His playful grin dissolves. “I didn’t.”
Disappointment collides with hope and attempts to strangle every bit of it. Yet, I still press on. “Do you still talk to your dad? Did he ever change his ways and apologize?” I shouldn’t ask this. None of it’s my business. And it’s not like I want Penn back. It’s not even a possibility he’s changed.
“No.” His eyes grow sharp. His voice tight. “He’s dead.”
“I’m…I’m not sure what to say.” Is the only way a victim can ever get justice, ever get peace, in death? While Penn suffers from PTSD, he’s an otherwise healthy guy in his early thirties. Barring accidental death, he should live for a long time.
Hunter leans back in the booth. “There’s nothing to say. He finally got what he deserved.”
“Were you happy?”
“Evangeline,” he begins.
“Look, you know every sordid detail about me, about my marriage. I know you read my case file. I know you took a special interest in me because Piper told me before I moved into my apartment. I thought I could handle living in the same place as you. That maybe, just maybe, I could play dumb and you wouldn’t bring up my past. But you did. The very least you owe me is honesty.”
He wipes his face with his napkin, grabs his wallet, and leaves enough money to cover the bill and give our waitress a tip before pinning me with a look of hot fury. “I was fucking thrilled. I danced on his grave and hoped like hell he suffered.” He scoots out of the booth, tossing his keys on the table. “I’ll find my own way home.”
I bite my lip, trying to keep back the tears so I don’t make a mess of things even more by crying. “Okay.” Fingers trembling, I grab his keys and shove them into my pocket while he marches outside.
I slump down in the booth, mentally fussing at myself for pushing him. For expecting more of him than I would of myself.
How could I be so insensitive? It was obvious from the get-go that he didn’t want to talk about it.
Misery coats my insides.
“Stupid girl, you ran him off,” I mutter. For once, the phrase has a whole new meaning for me.
Chapter 11
Hunter
“This is a surprise,” Hayden says as he steps down from one of the large fire engines. The pavement is wet, there’s soap everywhere, and a bunch of kids are running around with sponges. Laughter fills the air.
Obviously, Hayden is either hosting a birthday party or doing a community-involvement event.
“Is this a bad time?” I ask.
Before he can answer, a kid zips past him, little legs going faster than the rest of his body. One foot comes way off the ground and he starts to fall backward. Hayden easily grabs the boy and sets him down on his feet.
“Whoa, buddy. Better slow down. The ground’s slippery.”
The kid looks at him with hero worship written all over his face. “Thanks, Captain!”
A smile kicks up the corners of Hayden’s mouth. “Anytime, Cecil.”
Cecil speeds away, although he isn’t as much a hell on wheels this time.
“Guess that answered my question.” I turn, ready to walk all the way to Dwight’s house on the other side of town.
“You could always stay and help,” Hayden suggests.
I like kids. Can even envision having a couple in the near future, but right now I’m pissed at myself for my reaction to Evangeline’s questions. “Not exactly in the best mood.”
“Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll meet you in my office.” Hayden walks away, presumably to hand over the reins to his second in command.
I make my way to his office, bypassing squealing kids and parents taking pictures with their phones.
Closing the door behind me, I effectively silence the sound of festivities. I’m so on edge that instead of sitting to wait for Hayden, I begin to pace and think about Evangeline instead.
There’s so much in my head right now that I can’t gather my thoughts properly. It’s all one big jumbled mess in my brain. Jumbled mess or not, I know I’ve royally fucked things up with Evangeline.
Yeah, I left her with my truck keys, but that won’t make up for leaving her in the middle of brunch in the first place.
“Shit,” I mutter, and start for the door, but Hayden opens it before I get there.
“Leaving?”
“Yeah, I screwed up and I need to fix it.” I move past him.
He grabs my arm. “Anything I can do?”
“No. This is all me.”
Letting go of me, he grins. “Still on for tonight’s fight?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
He walks with me to the front of the fire station. “You can always invite your girl.”
“I don’t have a girl.”
Hayden levels me with a look. “When a man gets this worked up, it’s always over a woman.”
I exhale. “Fair enough, but I won’t invite her to a fight.” There’s no way Evangeline would be interested in one. Too violent. Too bloody. I can only imagine how she’d react. No way I’ll keep her if I show that side of myself—at least for now. I can ease her in, eventually, and if it’s a problem for her, I’ll stop.
“As long as you can concentrate on the match, I don’t care who you do or don’t invite.”
I tip up my chin at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your share of the purse.”
Pounding me on the back a couple of times, he says, “Go apologize.”
“See you at five.” I take off, stopping at a street vendor’s cart. It’s filled to the brim with flowers. Quickly picking out a bouquet of wildflowers, I pay for the bundle and haul ass back to the diner.
My truck’s still there, and as I pass by the glassed-in front, I see that Evangeline is, too. Her head is down, her fork poking at her food.
I’m such an asshole to leave her like that. I just walked out with no thought to her. While I have a lot of issues when it comes to my dad and his death, that’s certainly not Evangeline’s problem.
Her head jerks up and her eyes round. Her sweet lips part.
I give her a sheepish smile and point to the flowers in my hand, then motion for her to stay where she is. I don’t expect her to come to me.
Striding into the diner, I blaze a path directly for our booth. Evangeline’s slightly turned, watching as I draw closer.
Plump lips part before a smile kicks up the corners.
Wait a minute? She’s happy to see me?
I stop beside her, handing over the flowers. “I’m sorry for leaving. You didn’t do anything wrong…and when I saw these, I knew they belonged with you—whether you forgive me or not. My gifts to you come without conditions.”
There are a few sighs and aws from other customers.
Shifting my weight from one leg to the other, I rub my thumb along my jaw a couple of times. I didn’t mean for anyone but Evangeline to hear me.
Evangeline’s brows rise and she bites the corner of her mouth. “That’s a really good speech.”
“I really meant it.”
Setting the flowers beside her, she gestures across the table. “You’re welcome to join me again.”
Worried that she might change her mind, I plop my ass in the seat across from her. My meal is probably ice-cold by now, but I don’t give a damn. So I tuck into my eggs like a starving man. Oh yeah, cold and rubbery as hell, but it’s a punishment I’ll gladly take for hurting her.
The waitress comes by, winking at me as she refreshes my coffee. “Went to all that trouble just to buy flowers, huh?” She grabs my plate. “I’ll have Travis make another omelet for ya.”
I’m definitely going to add more money to her tip. “Thanks.”
“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Evangeline asks in a cheerful tone.
“I have some casework to go over, hitting the gym, and then night out with Dwight and Hayden.” Guilt sucker punches me right in the gut, but I ignore it. I do have plans with Dwight and Hayden at Bohannon’s, but it’s for after m
y match.
“Sounds very busy.” She leans back in her seat, her light brown hair flowing over her shoulders and brushing the tops of her breasts. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Because you’re a beautiful woman.”
She blushes. “You’re really laying this apology on thick.”
“I rarely say what I don’t mean.” After a beat, I ask, “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“Nothing.”
“Sounds not busy at all.”
Her head cocks to one side. “You’re the one who called in sick for me.”
I take a drink of coffee. “What would you like to do?”
“Take a bubble bath in the claw-foot tub in my bathroom. I wish I could watch a movie while I soak.”
Rubbing my chin, I say, “Might be able to help you out with that.”
“You’re going to hold the television up for me?”
“Not a bad idea. You get a show. I get a show. Sounds like a win-win for both of us.”
A burst of laughter escapes her as the waitress reappears with a new plate of steaming hot food, setting it on the table without a word.
I thank her before she walks away. She gives me another wink.
“You really impressed her,” Evangeline whispers, but there’s no jealousy or censure in her voice.
“She’s not the woman I was worried about impressing.”
Her eyes widen.
“Is that so hard to believe?”
She nods. “Absolutely.”
I can’t help but notice how very still she sits. How she barely moves her hands when she talks. How, when she smiles, that adorable dimple of hers rarely makes an appearance. It makes my heart ache that she holds herself back like she does.
“Why don’t you ask Saylor to go out with you for a ladies’ night out? There’s a great bar near the apartment that I can recommend.”
Her forehead creases. “You don’t want to take me there?”
“Yeah, but I already have plans tonight…at the bar I can recommend.”
I can see the wheels turning as she tries to figure out my game plan. Finishing my last bite, I wipe off my face with a napkin. “Ready to go?”
“Yes.” She grabs the bouquet of flowers and stands, then digs into her pocket and hands my keys over to me.
I join her, making sure to leave more money for the tip first. “After you.”
Allowing her to walk a couple of feet ahead of me, I take time to admire her curves, the way the back pockets of her jeans seem to cup her ass…the gentle sway of her hips.
My fingers itch at the thought of touching her again, of exploring her body even more with my hands and mouth. Of making her come undone. Giving her orgasms. If she wants me to pleasure her every day of the week and then twice on Sundays, I’m completely up for the job.
“Are you coming?” she calls from over her shoulder.
No, but you will be soon. “Just memorizing the view before I have to drop you off at home.”
“That has got to be the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard,” she says, waiting for me to unlock my truck.
“Won’t use it again.”
She steps up into my truck and sits down, arching her brow as she looks at me. “I said it was the cheesiest, not the worst.”
Very carefully, I lay my hand on her thigh. “Does that mean you want more of them?”
Evangeline inhales sharply before saying the most beautiful three words in existence. “I want more.”
—
Tonight, my opponent, Horace Caley, is a tough one. A hell of a bruiser with a long reach and quick feet. It’s all I can do to get close enough to hit him without being mercilessly pounded.
“Stop dancing, Sloan,” Hayden shouts.
“You stop dancing,” I mutter around my mouth guard.
A trickle of sweat hits my eye. I swipe at it and wince. Not sweat, blood.
He comes at me again, long arms swinging like a clock pendulum. Well, a pendulum with a block of concrete hanging off the end.
I barely keep out of his way by spinning around. My head snaps forward, sharp pain blooming from the back of my neck.
“No punching to the back of the head,” the ref warns as he jogs to me. “Time to recover?”
Blinking hard, I shake off the pain and dizziness. “I’m good.”
The crowd cheers and groans as a point is deducted from Caley’s total as we take fighting stances again.
He holds up his taped-at-the-knuckles hands. “Accident, but I’ll take the penalty.”
“Just don’t do it again.” I know I need to get him on the floor. He’ll flail around like a turtle stuck on its back if I do. That’s the only way I’ll beat him.
I sweep out my leg at the same time he goes to block it, except he’s not blocking me. The heel of his foot barely grazes my junk.
“Groin—that’s strike two.”
Caley tips up his chin at the rep and smiles as blood runs down the side of his face. He shakes his head, sending blood everywhere. A few people in the crowd shout their disgust while it inflames others.
Son of a bitch—the fucker used another deliberately illegal move. Now it’s no longer about fighting to win the purse, it’s about beating the shit out of this asshole.
He smirks at me.
I tackle him and send us both crashing to the mat. Quickly forcing him into a submission position, I squeeze my thighs around his midsection. He gets one arm loose and manages to punch me in the back of the head again.
Stars appear.
My rage goes from simmering to furiously boiling over. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
“You arrested my brother after his bitch of a wife called the cops on him.” His words are muffled but I can make them out.
“If I arrested him, then he deserved it.” I don’t remember his brother. It’s possible that he just has a vendetta against cops in general. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Fuck you and your whore of a mother.”
Almost as in a dream, I raise my arm, making it a straight line from the tips of my fingers to my elbow. However, something’s holding me back from giving him a twelve-to-six elbow in the midsection.
“Do it.” Spitting out his mouth guard, he bares his teeth at me. “Do it, you coward.”
It would be so easy to end him. So damn easy. I can arc my trajectory a little to make it completely legal to hit him like this. Sure, I’d probably fracture his ribs, maybe even puncture his lungs, but it would be worth it. So worth it.
My elbow heads his way.
Eyes widening, Caley grabs the fence and attempts to buck me off. At the last minute, I swing my arm downward, landing a blow to his side with my fist.
He groans in pain.
The ref comes to stand over us. “I’ve already warned you twice, Caley. You’re done for the night. Sloan wins by default.”
I unlock my legs from around Caley and stumble to my feet.
A mic is lowered in the middle of the cage as the ref grabs my hand and pulls it up into the air. “Winner,” he shouts.
Fans surge forward, crowding the cage as they celebrate or criticize the ref’s decision.
“Next time, Sloan. Next time.” A couple of guys drag Caley out of the ring and carry him to the locker room facilities on the opposite side of the building.
A wise decision, in my opinion, since I still want to kick his ass.
“We’ll have to develop a different strategy for next time,” Hayden says as he meets me halfway to the locker room. “He has a weak core and possibly a glass jaw.”
“There won’t be a next time.” I hold up my hands.
Hayden cuts the tape away, then tosses it into the trash. “You didn’t win that fight because you were such a badass tonight. You won by default. There will be a rematch.”
My body protests as I fumble with my locker. Muscles I didn’t know I have ache. “There might be a rematch, but not anytime soon. I’m getting too old for this.”
&
nbsp; “Twenty-eight is practically ancient,” Hayden agrees. “Better pick out your assisted-living home.”
“You’re twenty-eight.”
“I’m in my prime.”
I sit on a bench while Nora examines me and cleans me up. “You did a good job out there.”
“Tell that to my manager.” I glare at Hayden.
Nora glances at him, then back at me, and changes the subject. “How are things going?”
I know what she’s asking. “Better than expected.”
“Damn,” she mutters, then laughs. “I was hoping that I’d be the one to help you get over her.”
“Appreciate it, but we’re good.”
Hayden joins us. “Look like shit, though.”
“Feel like it, too.”
Nora finishes her examination. “There’s a small bump on the back of your head. If you were planning on celebrating with a drink, I’d advise you to go home and rest instead.”
“Then that’s what he’ll do.” Hayden grabs my shoulder and squeezes it lightly. “Dwight and I can catch you another time—unless you need one of us to drive you home.”
“I’ll manage.” Sometimes, it feels odd to have them worry over me like they do. Whenever my dad would get tired of beating up on my mom, he’d start in on me, slapping me around for not bringing his beer fast enough. Or for supposedly losing the remote. The only person who worried about me was my mom, but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it.
Until the day she finally made sure he wouldn’t hit either of us ever again.
Chapter 12
Evangeline
“Want to come over for pizza?” I ask, then make a face at myself in the mirror. “I sound like a deranged chipmunk.”
Saylor all but cackles at me from her spot on the sofa. She’s flipping through an issue of People and every so often she’ll read about some celebrity doing something stupid. In a weak moment, I invited her over for dinner. Okay, so it wasn’t a weak moment but rather my attempt at an apology and to make a friend.
“You’re trying too hard. Be natural,” she advises.
I puff out my cheeks and make my voice unusually high. “This isn’t natural?”
“Only if you plan to date a guy who works in a helium balloon factory.” The serious look on her face gives me pause, but then I catch the twinkle in her eye. Saylor is very good at making people believe she’s batty.
After We Fall Page 10
