Page 38 of Until You're Mine
Finn smacked Liam’s shoulder and then jerked his chin toward the bar. “We might have a situation.”
“Shit,” Liam said.
I automatically glanced that way, and my blood turned to ice when I noticed the guy talking to Brooklyn. She was waving her arms, clearly not happy, and I was out of my seat the next second. I didn’t realize Finn and Liam had also stood until Liam placed a hand on my chest.
“I think it’s best if you stay out of—”
“I’m coming,” I said, the muscles in my body coiled tight.
“Fine, but you make sure to keep your fists to your fucking self, or this could get ugly fast. None of us need an assault with a deadly weapon charge on our record. It’s hard to fight in the cage while you’re in one with prison bars.”
It was something I’d worked hard to engrain in my head ever since I learned that being a trained fighter upped assault charges to the “deadly weapon” level. No more street fights or brawls for me. I nodded to show I understood, and then we made long strides across the bar.
Both Brooklyn and the guy she was talking to glanced our way as we approached, and it took me a second to place his face with his name. Conrad “Croc” Rochenski, a guy who was making a run at the same welterweight title I was, but he was way ahead of me.
“Wow, that was record fast,” Conrad said. “We’re just talking.”
My mind scrambled to find the connection. He didn’t live in San Francisco, so he couldn’t be the boyfriend. He was local. There’d also been extra buzz around him lately, since his opponent had dropped out of their upcoming bout due to an injury.
“You were talking, I’m leaving.” Brooklyn turned away from him, and he caught her wrist and jerked her back a few steps, making her stumble on her heels.
Red flashed through my vision, and Finn grabbed on to my arm and held firm. “We gotta resolve this calm-like,” he said. “None of us want to screw up our careers over a bar brawl.”
I clenched my teeth so hard I was surprised one didn’t crack. “Then he better fucking let her go.”
A stupid smirk spread across Conrad’s face. “Who’s the new guy?”
Brooklyn wrenched her arm out of his grip. “Don’t you recognize him? Shane Knox, the guy you’re too afraid to fight.”
The veins and tendons in his neck popped out as his fists clenched at his sides. My muscles stretched tighter as I forced myself to go against my instincts and hold back—if he touched her again, all bets were off. “I’m not afraid to fight him. I’ll go right now.” Conrad slammed his fist into his open palm, and if that was his intimidation tactic, it needed work. I’d show him just how hard a fist could slam into him.
“Not here, dumbass,” Brooklyn said. “In the cage. But you’re too scared to take on a real opponent because it might mess up the record you got by only stepping into the octagon with cake guys.”
“He’s not up to my level, sweetheart. He’s just a washed-up has-been.”
The “sweetheart” and the intimate way he used it grated my frayed nerves, and I could see why Liam warned me against throwing a punch—a few seconds around the guy and it was impossible not to want to.
“Well, I’ve been watching him train, and if you actually had the balls to fight him, you’d see that he’s far from washed-up.” Brooklyn backed away from him, moving toward us, and I stretched out my hand for hers. As soon as she took it, I pulled her to me. Instead of keeping space between us the way I’d expected her to, she put her hand on my chest. Her eyes met mine and then she moved her lips next to my ear. “You want a big fight? One in the octagon with this asshole?”
I nodded, not completely following, but then she looped her arm around my neck, her body fitting to mine, and I didn’t care about any of the other details.
“Then just go with this,” she whispered. She ran her free hand up, into my hair, and raised her voice. “We’ll get you a bigger, better fight, baby. One that’ll entertain the crowd and have them begging for more. None of the yawn-fests Conrad’s fights have been reduced to this past year.”
I slipped my hand into her back pocket, hauling her tighter against me. Desire heated my blood and the resulting endorphin rush from having my hands on her tempted me to take it a step further and claim that sassy mouth while I could get away with it. I restrained myself to nuzzling her neck and then nipping at her ear. “God, you’re sexy when you get all feisty.”
Her eyes fluttered and she looked up at me through her lashes, almost as if she’d forgotten where she was, then the vixen, for-show smile returned. She ran her hand down my arm and linked her fingers with mine. “Come on. Let’s go finish our drinks and leave the pussies to rehash their glory days with the bartender.”
Not that I ever had any doubts that she could crush someone, butdamn.It should make me hesitate to even think about getting involved with her, but it only succeeded in making me want her that much more.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brooklyn
Obviously I’d lost my temper and my control and pretty much anything else you could lose. I hadn’t expected to run into Conrad here, but I should’ve known once I’d seen his BFF behind the bar that he’d rush to tell him I was here.
The Fainting Goat was notorious for fighters. I’d been coming for years, even before I could legally drink. At seventeen, I’d felt like I was old enough to break the rules and imbibe a little, but not a single one of the guys would sneak me so much as a beer. Funny enough, that was around the same time I’d met Conrad, proving I’d made a lot of sketchy choices that year.
I should’ve seen this coming.Old habits died hard, especially when you forgot why you’d started to avoid a certain place, regardless of the good memories you had there.
