A shrill voice cracks through the lobby. “Damian!”
Tension thickens the air and I take a step back, looking between the woman and Damian. His lips pull into a scowl and he pushes off the wall, grabbing the woman by the arm and pulling her around a corner.
Trouble in paradise, I muse.
Pushing Damian from my mind, I turn my attention back to Jack. I don’t know how long I wait on the far side of the cavernous room just watching him, but eventually he grows alert. His shoulders stiffen and he swivels his head around, peering around the gym equipment and sweating bodies. When he finds me, he smiles and it wipes away any lingering discomfort from my trip to New Orleans.
Jack jumps down from the ring and winds his way through the competitors and spectators. “You’re back,” he says, scooping me up into his strong arms. I hold on to his shoulders and tuck my face into his neck. “How was Tulane? Did you love New Orleans?”
“Amazing,” I lie against his warm skin. “Just like the fifteen times you asked on the way home.”
Laughter rumbles in his chest. “I wish I could have gone with you.”
I squeeze him tighter, wishing he could just go with me permanently. “I told you I understood.”
He pulls back, grinning so wide he shows his perfectly straight teeth. “That’s not why I wanted to go.”
Heat curls low in my belly. “It’s not?”
He pulls me closer with an arm around my waist. “I think I promised you a bed,” he murmurs.
My breath shortens. “So you did.”
His nose traces a path of lightning down the skin of my neck. “I’ve only got about an hour left here. Why don’t you get changed and I’ll take you out somewhere?” He finishes his tour at my face, rubbing my nose with his, and then kisses me on the forehead.
My eyes slip closed and I nod. “That sounds perfect.”
“I’d say let’s blow this place off because it’s just that one match, but Alvarez kind of bombed tonight and Dad’s on a rampage.” He pulls back a little, dispelling the illusion of our own little cocoon.
I shake my head to clear my brain of fluff. “Yeah, I’ve gotta shower anyway. Meet you here in about an hour?”
He gives me a long, drugging kiss. “Can’t wait.”
When I regain rational thought, I give him a goofy smile and walk away feeling lighter than air. I can feel Jack’s eyes follow me out the doors and into the parking lot. I cross the empty spaces to my parked car and hiss out a breath at the sight of a flat tire.
“Great,” I say, my mood dampening. Maybe the drive to New Orleans and back was a little too much on the poor old car.
“Need a little help?”
I peer into the darkness and find Damian strolling up. My hackles rise for a second, then I relax and manage a small smile, in spite of my hesitance, because yes, I do.
“Looks like it,” I say. “You know how to change these things?”
“Sure. Piece of cake. Why don’t you hop in and pop the trunk so I can grab a spare for you?”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” The car is about fifteen years old, so it doesn’t have fancy button on the keychain to unlock it. As I fold myself into the front seat and reach for the release lever for the truck, I hear the resulting pop, followed by a peculiar slam. I peer toward the back to see if it opened.
I manage to get a glimpse of Damian rushing at me with what seems like preternatural speed when his hand slaps over my face and nose, stifling my scream. Panic and vomit explode into the back of my throat.
“Don’t make a sound,” he says, jabbing something into my ribs.
Pain explodes in my midsection as the blow connects with my ribs. “Jesus, you tryin’ to kill me?”
Logan grins. “Sorry, Jack.”
“This is a warm-up not the championship match,” I tell him, rubbing my ribs. If he wasn’t one of my best friends, I’d enjoy breaking the rules and punching him right the fuck in the face. When my side twinges, I give the thought some serious consideration.
“Couldn’t resist. Your dad has talked so much shit about you, I had to see what’s up.”
My dad grins across the ring where he’s advising one of the competitors. I throw up a middle finger in his general direction, but my ribs twinge. Fucker has a hell of a right hook.
“Go find another punching bag,” I tell him and hobble off to find some ice.
I press the bag against my ribs and glance at the clock above the ring. A half hour until we shut this circus down and I can go out with my girl. It’s been too fucking long.
And the thought of being away from her while she goes to school for the next four years kills me almost as much as the pain in my side. At least this will go away in a couple hours. When I wake up tomorrow, she’ll still be going to school hundreds of miles away.
“You look like shit,” Dad says.
“Thanks to you, asshole.”
He chuckles. “You looked so sad, I thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”
“Well fuck you very much. Don’t do me any more favors.”
“Sure about that?”
I look up at him and gesture with my free hand. “Damn right.”