Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)

It was all I could do not to gag, and while the idea of puking on his shoes held a fair amount of appeal, I was late for dinner.

“You’re wasting your time. Quarry isn’t here,” I sniped, shoving my phone into my purse before pulling my keys out —including the mace my father had insisted I carry at all times.

“If I’d wanted to see Quarry, I would have gone to On The Ropes. I came to see you.”

My shoulders shook in disgust. God, he was slimy.

“Oh goodie. Lucky me.” I clicked the locks on my car and pulled on the handle, but then his hand suddenly landed firmly on the roof, blocking the door from opening.

His tall body menacingly loomed over me, but I refused to respond with fear.

“Fuck off, Garrett.” I tugged on my door again while secretly flipping off the leather strap on the top of my mace.

“I just came to offer my congratulations on your relationship with Page. It’s about time you two came out of the closet.” His hip shifted to lean against the door, the front of his jacket brushing against my shoulder and causing me to shudder.

“Back up,” I ordered, but he didn’t budge.

If anything, he leaned in closer. “Trust me. I get it. My whore has been aching for years to weasel her way into my spotlight.”

My back shot ramrod straight, but I didn’t even have a chance to act before my entire body went on an even higher alert.

Brushing the hair away from my neck, he whispered, “Oh, don’t look so upset, Livvie. You know the entire world is thinking the same thing.”

I had once read an article that suggested, after spending significant time with a person, you started to develop their personality traits. It said that that was how couples evolved together. It wasn’t until that moment that I believed it.

Because, as if I were Dr. Bruce Banner shifting into the Incredible Hulk, a loud roar escaped my mouth and then Quarry fucking Page came out in me.

“You sorry piece of shit!” I yelled, slapping him as hard as I could across the face.

His smile grew ominous as he lifted his palm to his cheek.

“You are a professional athlete. Not a fucking henchman for the mob. You don’t get to show up at my job, talking shit you know nothing about.”

He chuckled without humor. “Your reaction says otherwise.”

“What is wrong with you? You have millions in the bank, women throwing themselves at your feet, fans who think you shit gold, and you are standing here, trying to intimidate your opponent’s girlfriend? Really? Who does that shit? I mean, seriously.” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “For fuck’s sake. Man up. Stop acting like a sociopath and get to the gym. It won’t help you win, but it might at least give you a shot at being conscious to see Quarry walk out of the ring with your belt.”

His body hit me so fast that I didn’t even have a chance to brace. My back slammed into the car, jerking as the door handle bit into my spine. He propped himself on a fist, his other going immediately to my wrist. Gripping tightly, he roughly shook until the mace fell from my hand.

My heart was racing as he pinned me against the car.

“You dumb cunt…” He opened his mouth to continue, but I spit into his face.

“Get off me!” I shrieked, fighting against his painful grip.

His nostrils flared, and his gaze turned positively evil, which sent my courage running for this hills.

My body instinctively shrank under his icy stare.

Sucking in a breath, I turned my head and prepared myself for the physical blow that was surely on its way.

“Hey!” Don called. “Get the fuck off her.”

My breath escaped in relief. Don was no match for Davenport, but if I was going to die, at least I’d have a witness.

Much to my surprise, Davenport’s stiff posture melted into me. His hard eyes swung to Don, and he very calmly stated, “None of your business, old man.”

Don fearlessly stepped toward us, his eyes so angry that my body shrank even lower. “Let her go, Davenport. I swear to God this will not end well for you. If her man doesn’t kill you, I can promise you I will.”

Whoa! Don could be scary.

Garrett laughed. It wasn’t daunting or malicious. It was filled with honest-to-God humor, and it scared the shit out of me.

Garrett Davenport wasn’t just a coward—he was mentally unstable.

I closed my gaping mouth as I watched him lose himself in a fit of laughter. His body had slacked, but he still effortlessly kept me pinned to the car.

“It’s appears we’ve been caught, my love.”

Caught?

My love?

He dug for something in his pocket. I jerked, preparing myself for whatever weapon he was going to reveal, and I vaguely noticed Don reach to the back of his navy dress pants. We both froze when Davenport produced a hotel keycard and tucked it into the cleavage of my dress.

“Room two forty-seven, love. Don’t be late.”

Then he kissed me.

Hard.

Painful.

Vile.

Just as quickly, he released me and moseyed away, unfazed.

My knees shook, and my ankle rolled, almost sending me to the ground, but Don caught me around the waist.

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