A small crowd blocked my view of who she was screaming at. Liv was definitely spunky—and slightly crazy. But she wasn’t hot-tempered. If she was mad about something, chances were I was going to be livid.
“Hey!” I shouted, jogging over to the man restraining her. “Get your fucking hands off her.” I possessively claimed her from his arms and then breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed the Guardian Protection Agency pin on his lapel.
That’s when the proverbial record stopped.
Liv froze.
Dozens of eyes swung my way.
The crowd parted.
And Garrett fucking Davenport stepped in my direction.
Son.
Of.
A.
Motherfucking.
Whore.
“Quarry ‘The Stone Fist’ Page, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced with a slow clap that grated down my spine.
As much as my fist ached to greet his face, I didn’t respond. Not this time.
“Can someone go get Till? Or Slate? Or Flint? Or hell…anyone else? Please,” Liv begged as she stepped in front of me. “Walk away, Q. He’s only here to get a rise and you know it. Do not give that to him. Lock it down.”
I gritted my teeth but remained silent—my eyes trained on the coward in the fitted, black tux looking every bit as pompous and arrogant as I knew him to be.
“I heard there was a fundraiser going on to benefit youth boxing.” Davenport puffed his chest and then grinned. “Coincidence. I have funds and love boxing. What are the odds?” He laughed.
“We don’t want your fucking money,” Liv spat without ever turning to face him. “Walk away, Q.”
My jaw clenched as my hands flexed opened and closed at my sides. His appearance had absolutely nothing to do with the fundraiser and everything to do with the fact that the boxing commissioner had emailed over the contracts on his next title fight. I hadn’t shared with Liv yet, but I’d found out that morning that my name was finally back on the bottom line. His reign in the ring had been over the minute those contracts had landed on his agent’s desk. I knew it. And it gave me great pleasure that he knew it too. This whole confrontation was nothing more than attempt to get in my head. Little did he know that my head had been fucked years earlier. He was only adding fuel to my fire.
That title belonged to me.
I wouldn’t let him take this opportunity from me. Not again.
“Are you here to beg me to take it easy on you?” I asked stoically.
He barked a humorless laugh.
Liv squeezed my bicep. “Let’s go home.”
I ignored her and continued talking to Davenport. “No? Then what? You need my belt size? Routing number for my bank account?”
He took a threatening step forward, but I held my ground.
Liv blew out a loud breath of relief when Slate’s meaty paw landed on my shoulder.
“That’s enough,” Slate said. “Not here, Garrett. This is neither the time nor the place for you to stir up something. You want to make a donation? Mail it to the gym. The kids would be appreciative of your generosity. Besides that, you have no business here.”
Fucking Slate. All PC and shit.
“With all due respect, Slate.” He paused and smiled condescendingly. “Fuck. You.”
“You’re not really my type, son,” Slate replied with a chuckle, but his hand clenched painfully tight on my shoulder—his fist no doubt aching as well.
Flint’s voice came from somewhere behind me. “Get Leo’s ass over here. This is over, Garrett. Either you leave now or security will be escorting you out.”
Till stepped to my side. Bumping his shoulder with mine, he gritted out, “Do not react. Hold on to this moment for when you have him in the ring. You have your shot. Do not blow it by giving in to this prick.”
Shit, he was right.
“What’s wrong, Page? Nothing to say?” Davenport goaded. “You just gonna stand there and let your washed-up trainer and has-been brother take care of your shit?”
I sucked in a deep breath.
Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe.
Adrenaline surged in my veins, but it found no way out as I forced it down.
Liv wasn’t as successful.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she erupted.
I hooked a fast arm around her waist and yanked her back to my chest. She continued hurling insults.
Davenport laughed loudly. With an evil smirk, he lifted his eyes to mine.
Three words.
Three fucking words secured his fate.
I’d already wanted his belt.
But, with three fucking works, I wanted his blood.
“Control your bitch.”
The room exploded. Slate, Till, and even Flint jumped to restrain me.
I didn’t move.
Liv was a button of mine he’d never pushed before. It was the only one left that could send me nuclear. Clearly, everyone around us knew that, but I wouldn’t give him that knowledge.
That was mine. The last thing I needed was him launching a full-out attack on her just to set me off-kilter.
Every muscle in my body strained, but I didn’t budge.
Not forward to kill him.
And definitely not backward in retreat.
I was rooted in place.
Eyes locked.
Plotting his murder.
Electricity charged the air.
I. Did. Not. Move.