Page 30 of Falling for the Forbidden Fighter
Catherine glances at me, legs bouncing. “How are you so calm?”
I shrug. “You forget I was court-martialed recently. You think I’m a stranger to getting chewed out?”
“Anyone try to hit you during your court-martial?”
I meet her soft green eyes.
“I don’t know if I can stop them from going ballistic,” she says as we turn into the gym’s parking lot. “Just be ready to get those hands up.”
“Always am.”
If I tell her what I’m planning, she’ll never let me out of this car.
The gym is busy, the usual morning rush, but everyone is standing around listening to Ricky squeal in the office. All eyes fall on us.
Some of them shake their heads. A few laugh. That old guy who’s mastered the speed bag gives me a look that saysI told you.
Everyone is ready to enjoy the show.
I walk with my head held high, meeting every set of eyes until they dodge me. Half of these dudes are just jealous that Catherine never gave them the chance to break her father’s Golden Rule. They’re happy to see me finally get mine.
Catherine steps in front of me like a shield.
Through the office doorway, I spot Ricky, hands on Don’s desk, body heaving like a monster in convulsions. He turns, spots me, and charges.
I’m a heartbeat away from hurling Catherine out of the way when Don’s voice snags Ricky like a leash, “Stop.”
Ricky freezes, nearly stumbling with his momentum. His fist is shaking, ready to fly.
Catherine hasn’t moved.
Don’s chair groans as the big man gets up, rounds his desk, and walks slowly out of his office.
The gym sighs. I feel everyone take a step back.
Before he reaches us, I step in front of Catherine.
Here is the man who’s tortured me for the past month. Every bead of sweat I’ve poured out for this gym was produced by his command. All the blood, the pain, every ounce of suffering was of his making.
And I cherished it all—I still do. I crave it. He’s made me better than I ever was, and I don’t want it to stop.
But I’d give it all up for the girl standing behind me, the girl who keeps trying to muscle between us to shield me from whatever comes next.
I’ll make him understand.
“Louis,” Don says.
Normally, Don Winters looks a little angry. It’s like every day he accidentally bites his cheek. There’s always something tugging on his temper, like he’ll blow at any minute but never does. I’d grown comfortable with that.
Right now, he looks calm.
That scares me.
“Coach.” I nod, trying to stay relaxed. “I guess Ricky had some news for you.”
“Damn right I had some fucking news—“
“Shut up, Ricky,” Don says, keeping those hard eyes on me. “You got something you need to tell me, son?”
