Page 21 of Heart Sick Hate

“Or, if you’d like to hang out after this…”

Derek reaches out and runs the back of his hand over my knee like I offered it to him. I hate that men are always touching. It doesn’t matter if I’ve given him no reason to think I’m interested, he’ll grab for it anyway.

I’m about to burn him with the end of my joint when a body passes between us and a shin kicks Derek’s hand out of the way.

“Fuck off, Derek. She’s taken.” Crew drops into the seat beside me.

He told me he was fighting tonight, but I kind of hoped the fact that it took me so long to get here after dinner would mean his fight would already be over, and he would have left.

Derek’s eyes skip to Crew, and he turns back around.

Crew is one of the few fighters who everyone is familiar with. Opponents fear him, but the crowd loves him. He’s vicious—violent. And as annoying as it is that people think they need to bow down to him, in this moment I’m thankful he cut off my conversation with Derek.

Not that I’ll share that with him.

“What? I’m not allowed to talk to friends?”

Crew crosses his arms over his chest, leaning closer to me, but not taking his eyes off the fight happening in the ring in front of us. “Since when are you and this douchebag friends?”

“Since I tatted his brother.”

We aren’t friends, but I don’t need Crew thinking he’s some knight in shining armor for saving me from that conversation.

“Interesting.” He chuckles.

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“Didn’t know you were in the market forfriends.” His gaze slides in my direction, and I don’t like that he’s insinuating Derek is something more than what he is. “My preacher boy brother not keeping you satisfied?”

If only my core didn’t clench every time his steel eyes made contact with mine.

If only his vicious comment wasn’t so on point.

My mouth falls open, and I almost let that slip. Almost make the biggest mistake I can by giving Crew Kingsley a peek behind the curtain. Luckily, the buzzer sounds and reminds me who I’m talking to.

“At least your brother cares about satisfying others.” Not a total lie considering what I heard him tell the random woman on the phone. “I doubtyourpartners can say the same thing.”

“They say lots of things.” The most devilish smirk climbs his cheeks. “Yes... Please...More. Want to hear what I do to make them beg for me?”

Heat floods my cheeks. My skin erupts.

Crew watches my parted lips, and I feel him focusing on every quick breath. I snap my mouth shut and try to bury the volcano bubbling inside.

“No.” A lie has never scalded my tongue the way that one word does. But I can’t say the truth, because wanting to hear his answer is wrong on every level.

Crew shifts back, but I don’t break his gaze as I hear a body fall to the mat in the ring in front of us. The buzzer sounds, and I can’t help that it makes me jump. Fury boiling as Crew notices and smirks.

He doesn’t say another word as he stands up and walks away, leaving the seat beside me once again empty. And I can’t take my eyes off him as he makes his way up the steps to the ring, peeling his shirt off and putting his tight, tattooed chest on display.

Crew doesn’t sit on the stool as he wraps tape around his hands. He’s calmly swaying back and forth with whatever he’s thinking while his opponent bounces in theother corner. His eye sockets are dark from where his nose is already broken, but in this light, I realize it’s not as bad as I thought it was.

Or maybe it’s that Crew wears bruises well. Proudly, like a badge of honor.

A girl in red star pasties circles the ring, swaying her hips with each step. Once more, the display of sexual confidence makes my stomach ache. She winks at both guys as she steps down to take her seat, but Crew doesn’t acknowledge her back. He’s too focused.

He’s a hunter, lasered in on the kill in front of him.

He’s smirking at his opponent for daring to think he might win.

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