Page 27 of Unexpected Temptation

Soon, I’m standing on the other side of the cage again, my hands freshly wrapped, the blood cleaned from my body. Maya is leaning against her friend now. I can’t tell if she’s asleep. Maybethat’s for the best. Then she won’t have to watch me do this again, watch me become this again.

In the center of the ring, a man in a purple suit stands, addressing the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, for our final event, we have our famous Mystery Box! Who is our esteemed Marine fighting, you all ask? You won’t know until the lights come on. Ha!”

Suddenly, all the power dies. A few people gasp, and then laughter spreads through the room. Around thirty seconds later, the lights flicker on with a harsh buzz. I squint against the sudden brightness, my eyes adjusting to reveal three figures standing before me. They’re not what I expected.

Three wiry street kids, no older than fourteen, in makeshift MMA gear that looks too big and worn for their small frames. Their faces are smeared with dirt and defiance, but I catch a glimmer of fear in their eyes—a fear they’re trying hard to hide behind tough exteriors.

The first, a goddamngirlwith wild, unruly curls of fiery red hair, wears a patched-up sports bra and baggy shorts. Her arms are crossed defiantly, but her fingers twitch nervously at her sides.

Next to her, there’s a boy who reminds me of myself at his age. His hair is the color of mud, and he’s lean. He’s covered in scars, but his eyes are alert. He grinds his teeth and takes a terrified step forward, trembling all over. The third wears a thick hoodie like armor, glaring from the rear.

They’re kids. They’re scared down to their bones. This is sick. But I read the situation with my military instincts.These combatants are ready to fight.Whatever the Mob is blackmailing them with or using to threaten them, it’s working.

There’s no damn way I’m letting this happen. “Are you kidding me?” I roar up at Raffie. “I’m not fighting these kids.”

“Get him, Bronx,” the one with mud-colored hair snaps, and I can just imagine being that kid looking up to the girl, confident she was going to make this mayhem work out somehow.

“Yeah, Bronx, get him,” the one in the hoodie says, staring at the girl.

The girl looks at me with her eyes wide open, tears glimmering. But she reaches into the baggy fold of her shorts and takes out a small blade.

“I’m not fighting kids,” I growl. “Put that shit down, kid. This is over.”

“You have to fight,” Raffie calls down. “You keep saying you’re drawing lines, T, but there’s no drawing lines in this life—only blood. This will be a lesson. Your first real night as a Trentini.”

I turn to the kid. “We’re not fighting. Put it down.”

“Get him, Bronx,” the boy says again. “We’ll have a life, then. Remember? Sunsets and sherbet. You said we have to remember that.”

“Yeah,” the girl whispers, passing her knife from one hand to the other, getting herself ready. It’s goddamn heartbreaking. “We can do this. Then we never have to be scared again, right?”

Bronx lunges at me. I duck aside, grab her wrist as gently as I conceivably can in this situation, and quickly take the blade from her tiny hand. When I gently push her toward her friends, she cowers against the cage wall. All of them move away, their hands raised.

I hold the knife up, raising my voice. “This is over. I’m not fighting. It’s done.”

“You have to,” Raffie calls down. “You agreed.”

“I don’t have to do a goddamn thing,” I snarl. “I’m leaving.”

I duck my head and walk toward the exit where the three kids are standing. I know there’s little chance I’ll get my winnings now. Hell, I might have just severed all ties with the Trentinis or, worse, started a battle I can’t win. But no world exists where I beat on a bunch of kids.

I need to get Maya and her friend out of here, then get home and hope I haven’t just ruined my whole life.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TRISTAN

“I’m sorry,” Maya’s friend moans in the back of the car, crying as she holds tightly onto Maya.

I try not to let panicked concern slither into my mind as I think about what I’ve just done. I’ve embarrassed Raffie in front of his pals. I’ve put a stain on the event. That’s how he’ll see it. The fuck! It makes me sick that I even have to worry about what a lowlife like him will think, but this is about the dogs, not me. He’s dropped plenty of hints-slash-threats about Tails. And yet sometimes, I can’t help but see Raffie as the kid he was, not the man he is today.

“It’s not your fault,” Maya replies, seeming slightly more lucid now, maybe because she didn’t drink before that prick slipped her, or pricked her, or put powder on her skin, or whatever fucked-up method he chose.

“I said I’d keep you safe …”

“Wearesafe,” Maya says. “It’s not your fault he was a creep. Just get some sleep, okay?”

They hug again, and then Riley leaves and walks toward her house. I wait until she’s inside and then drive away, heading toward Maya’s house. My body feels taut with being so close to her, alone suddenly, but there’s so much else clashing through me.

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