“You have the police involved now, so that should help.”
“I hope. But until someone manages to trace where these e-mails are coming from, I don’t have much to go on.”
“Maybe the police will crack that.” Dean Sheffield stood. “I’ll let you get back to work. I know you have classes to teach today. Please, keep me informed, will you?” She held out a hand, and Conner shook it as he stood.
“I will. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know.” Conner left the office and made his way back to his building at a quick pace. His office hours started in five minutes.
As soon as he rounded the corner in his building, pulling out his keys, he found Angelica Hudson already waiting with a huge smile on her face.
Shit. He’d forgotten she intended to return this morning. She was the last person he felt like dealing with. The girl rubbed him wrong. It seemed lately she came to him for no apparent reason. All he needed on top of everything else was a student with a crush on him.
“Good morning, Dr. Bascott. I’ve got the first draft of my paper worked out.” She followed him into his office and took a seat across from him as he set his briefcase down next to his desk and plopped onto his chair.
“Good. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He needed to focus. This was his job. But dammit, this girl was not quite right. Her shirt was too tight, and her cleavage was hanging out for anyone to ogle. Conner had less than no interest in her chest. Again.
When she leaned forward and set her forearms on the corner of his desk, he was sure she was putting him on. Really? Who did that?
He ignored her and took the pages from her hand.
She had done the work. Maybe she just didn’t have good fashion sense.
“Do you have the outline with you?”
She pulled it out. “Sure.”
He needed to look it over. He hadn’t paid much attention to it the first time. “Need a refresher.” He tried to smile as he took the page and glanced down the front.
She wasn’t a brilliant student by any stretch of the imagination, but she did have a good premise. And the rough draft at least followed the guidelines.
“This is a good start. Make sure you’re backing up all your facts and you have enough to support your theory.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She didn’t move from the chair as he handed her both sets of papers back. “Are you okay, Dr. Bascott? You seem distracted.”
“I’m fine.” He smiled. “I’ll see you in class this afternoon?”
“Of course.” She grinned as she stood. Was it his imagination, or did she make an effort to adjust her breasts as she prepared to leave?
She stared at him for several seconds, her mouth opening as if she intended to say something else. But then she closed her mouth and pursed her lips as she turned around and left.
He exhaled as the door shut behind her. Jesus. He ran a hand through his hair. He needed to get a grip.
To distract himself before class, he opened his computer and worked on lesson plans for the next few weeks. When he finished, he opened his e-mail.
Fuck.
He recognized the sender immediately. The same anonymous address as he’d seen on the dean’s e-mail and also Sabrina’s. He hesitated a moment before clicking the button to open it.
Dr. Bascott,
You are treading on thin ice. You might want to reconsider some of the choices you are making, or you will find yourself losing everything you hold dear.
Sincerely,
A friend
“A friend, my ass,” he muttered. “Dammit.” What the hell was this all about? Who was trying to frame him and get him fired? And why?
His mind was preoccupied all afternoon as he taught two classes and then trudged to his car. He’d forwarded the e-mail to Sargent Jacobson to add to the file from yesterday.
As he folded himself behind the wheel, he caught the glimpse of someone coming toward him out of the corner of his eye. “Fuck,” he muttered.
Professor Chang approached at a near jog, waving her hands in the air. Just what he didn’t need today on top of everything else. She was out of breath when she reached his side and leaned both hands on the frame of his car to gaze at him where he sat.
“Tina, I’m kinda in a hurry. Can this wait?” Forever.
She shook her head. “I just heard the news. I’m so sorry.”
“What news?” Okay, so she piqued his curiosity. However, he for sure didn’t need any more news.
She shook her head. “Someone’s trying to get you fired.”
He gripped the steering wheel with both hands. Great. How many people knew about this? “You already knew this. You received the e-mails yourself. What’s new?”
“The rumors are growing by the minute. Conner. Be honest with me. Did you sleep with a student?”
Shit. “Of course not, Tina.”
“Listen, Conner.” She leaned into the car farther, her breasts at his eye level.
What is it with women and their damn breasts today?
“If you need anything… I mean maybe I can help.” She grabbed his tie and gave it a sharp tug. “An alibi or something.”
Shock didn’t begin to describe his reaction. Tina Chang was offering to say she had slept with him? His ears started ringing with anger. For all he knew, Tina set the entire thing up herself so she could rescue him and get in his pants.
He shook his head and grabbed his tie higher up to yank it from her hand. “I really have to go, Tina.” He actually had to shove her a bit forcefully to get her out of the way so he could shut the car door. And without looking back, he sped away.
His heart pounded as he made his way through the streets of Vegas toward the gym. He couldn’t possibly go back to Rafe’s yet. He was fuming with aggravation. If he didn’t burn some of it off, it would ruin the tentative hold he had on his relationship with Sabrina.
“Fuck.” Sabrina. He pounded a fist on the steering wheel. Maybe he should let her go? His world was insane. Somebody wanted him fired. And that same somebody obviously didn’t want her in his life.
A punching bag would do him wonders.
He whipped his car around every corner until he zipped into a parking spot at the gym and climbed out of the Mustang. Slamming the door, he rounded the hood and stomped toward the back entrance.
Joe glanced up as Conner entered. He paid the man no attention. Not even a nod. It wasn’t like him to ignore the gym owner, who was not only his trainer but his friend. But Conner didn’t have it in him to face anyone.
Not until he punched the fuck out of something intangible. And perhaps not even then.
In minutes, he had changed clothes and made his way to the back corner of the main room to tackle one of the enormous punching bags hanging from the ceiling.
No one bothered him. Thank God. There weren’t very many people in the gym at this hour. Most arrived later in the evening. It was only four thirty.
He didn’t know how long he fought against the bag before a hand landed on his shoulder. “Dude. Why didn’t you at least put gloves on?”
Conner jerked his gaze to find Zane staring at his hands. “Fuck.” Conner’s knuckles were a bloody mess, and he hadn’t even noticed. He was also breathing heavily. Sweat poured down his face.
Zane gripped his shoulder and nudged him backward. “Let me look at that.” He didn’t ask a question. The man was an EMT. When he used that tone with anyone, they didn’t balk. Including Conner. Besides, he was completely spent.
He staggered backward and dropped into a folding chair along the wall. “Did Joe call you?”
“Yep.” Zane kneeled in front of Conner and lifted his left hand. He had a bag of supplies next to him. He was prepared. How long had he been watching? “Hold this.” He lifted a shallow bowl up and nudged Conner’s other hand with it.
Conner winced as he took the edge and held it under his left hand.
Zane poured something clear over his knuckles. It wasn’t fucking water, either. It stung li
ke a mother fucker. Zane chuckled. “He lives.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I thought maybe you were a robot the way you were going after the punching bag. I was wondering how long you might continue the battle before you realized you were bleeding.” He dabbed at the wounds with a piece of gauze, not lifting his gaze and not asking any questions.
When he was satisfied with that hand, he switched to the other. “The shower is going to sting like a bitch, dude.”
Conner winced again as Zane poured more of the evil liquid over his right hand. The pain was actually welcome. It temporarily distracted him from reality.
When Zane was finished, he set the bowl on the floor and took a seat in the chair next to Conner. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really. You can get the gist of the story from Rider and Gage. I’m in no mood.”
“Yeah. I figured they knew what was going on with you, but I didn’t want to pry into it without your permission.”
Conner lifted his gaze. “We’re a team here. The Fight Club.” He gave a wry half smile. “Pry away.” He stood then and walked to the locker room. The shower called to him. And he needed to face Sabrina soon. Though what he was going to say to her was a mystery.
Chapter Twenty
“What happened to your hands?”
Conner tried to smile at Sabrina as he stepped into Rafe’s kitchen. He shrugged. “No big deal. I forgot to wear gloves.”
“You forgot? How is that possible, Conner?” She had a knife in her hand and a cutting board under her wrists. The huge wooden board was covered with vegetables. She immediately set the knife aside and turned around to wash and dry her hands.
Rafe sat at the other side of the island nursing a beer, apparently watching Katy and Sabrina cook.
Conner strode directly to his friends’ refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He downed half of it before he faced Sabrina again. She stared at him with a narrowed gaze. “We should talk,” she mumbled.
“Yes.” He took a deep breath. He wasn’t stable enough to face her yet. “But can it wait? I’ve had a long day. I need to catch my breath.”
Sabrina took his arm in her hand and squeezed. “No it can’t fucking wait,” she gritted out, tugging him toward the stairs.
Oh goody.
He followed her reluctantly down the steps, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t figure there was any way in hell they would be keeping their voices down, but at least the barrier would possibly keep Rafe and Katy from having to listen to their exact words.
When Sabrina spun around on him in the huge downstairs living room, she set her hands on her hips and nailed him with her gaze. Yep. She was livid. “You never even called the entire day.”
Shit. She was right about that. He had said he would call. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.
“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through today?”
He flinched. He hoped nothing. He hoped she’d been here in Rafe’s home editing quietly.
“I didn’t think so.” She glanced at his hands. “While you were off punching the fuck out of something—at least I hope it was something and not someone—I was at the police station half the day dealing with the next round of e-mails.”
He startled. Fuck. He stepped forward.
She held up a hand, palm out. “Don’t even think about it. I’m exhausted. Way too tired to fight with you, and I don’t want any part of you to touch me right now.”
He cleared his throat. “I know you’re pissed. You have every right to be.”
“Pissed? That doesn’t come close to how I feel.”
“Sabrina…” He backed up a few paces and fell into a giant cozy arm chair, downing the rest of his beer as he did so.
She didn’t say anything else.
“You do realize this is exactly what the person wants, right?” he asked.
“What person? What are you talking about?”
“Whoever is sending these e-mails. Hell, whoever is fucking with me at work. Jesus, even your keyed car might have something to do with this. Someone doesn’t want us together.” And that wasn’t the half of it. Someone wanted him fired. He just hadn’t yet put it all together to see how it was connected.
“Well, whoever it is can have their way. I’m done.” She threw up her hands and stomped into the bedroom she’d used last night before coming to him.
He gripped the empty beer can so hard it crumpled, cutting his fingers in a few new places. Finally, he pulled himself to standing and strode over to the doorway where she was stuffing her belongings into her overnight bag. She didn’t pay any attention to him.
“You’re right. You should go.” It took every ounce of courage he had to say that. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. He would give anything to storm across the room, throw her on the bed, spank her ass for doubting him, and then fuck her senseless.
But for now, he needed to let her go. And he needed her to think it was over. It was the only way he could deal with this shitstorm of a world he’d fallen into without taking her down as a casualty.
He knew if he let her go home and didn’t follow her or contact her in any way, whoever was stalking her would leave her alone. It wasn’t about her. It was about him.
He had no idea why, but somehow he needed her to think this was over so she would be safe. “This isn’t going to work between us. All we do is fight. It’s how we started out.”
She inhaled sharply, her fingers hesitating as she jammed her clothes into her bag. A sniffle made him stiffen. If she started to cry…
She held it together, sort of. Though he hated the thought of her driving. He would get Rafe to take her to his house to get her car. His chest literally hurt. Is this what it felt like to have a broken heart?
No, he realized. Whatever Sabrina was feeling was a broken heart. Not him. He knew he was totally head over heels for her. Falling so hard that those three little words he’d never said to a woman in his life hovered on the tip of his tongue.
But this was for the best. For now. All he could do was hope when the storm settled, he could crawl back to her and beg for forgiveness. If the damage wasn’t too extensive. If he came out on the other side unscathed.
Sabrina grabbed her bag, hefted it over her shoulder, and stomped by him as he jumped out of the way. If he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to go through with this farce.
She headed for the stairs.
“I’ll have Rafe drive you.”
“I’ll talk to him myself. Don’t bother.”
“I want to help.”
She spun around to face him, meeting his gaze. “Fuck you, Conner Bascott. Fuck you and your spinelessness. Rafe can take me to my fucking car, and I’ll drive myself to my own fucking house and live happily ever after without your help, thank you very much.”
And with that she was gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sabrina buried herself in her work. For the rest of the week, she stayed inside her house, hovered over her computer, wearing sweatpants and only showering occasionally.
She allowed herself to glance at her e-mail two times a day. Sure enough, as she’d expected, nothing else arrived to threaten her.
She still hated that so many pictures of her naked body in compromising positions were out in the ether floating around. But she couldn’t do anything about it. The police were investigating. All she could do was wait and hope they caught whoever had been stalking her.
They got what they wanted, so she prayed they held up their end of the bargain too and didn’t let her face leak out all over the Internet.
One good thing was her work. She could stick her head in a manuscript and escape into the fictitious world of the characters, blocking out the ache constantly tightening her chest every time she came up for air, to eat or sleep or bathe.
She didn’t hear from Conner. And by Friday she was pretty certain she never would. Obviously he didn’t have the balls to face whatever this t
hreat was at her side. Which pissed her off and fueled her anger.
She missed him. She missed sparring with him verbally. She missed his mouth on her body, his hands on her ass, his cock in her pussy…
The need to see him grew by the day. She knew he was fighting at the same arena she’d followed him to a few weeks ago. Had it only been two weeks? It seemed like a lifetime.
In a split-second decision, she jumped in the shower, put on clean jeans and a T-shirt, and left the house. The arena was big. She could watch him from some corner. At least she would get to see him, even if he didn’t see her.
The thought of staring at his delicious chest covered with the gladiator tattoo over one shoulder made her mouth water.
One last indulgence. That’s what she told herself. She just wanted to see his face, even from afar, soak in his sexiness, and then she would know he’d moved on. It would kill her to do this, but she needed the closure.
At eight thirty, she slipped into the arena and made her way to a far corner, nowhere near where she’d watched him the first time. She could see Emily and Kayla standing near the spot where she’d met them. She smiled. They were both on their tiptoes. Rider was in the ring. The tattoos on his shoulders were as impressive as Conner’s—wings. He looked like he could fly. The announcer referred to him as “The Enforcer.”
She smiled again, thinking about the play on words. The man certainly enforced the law, both inside and outside the cage.
She knew Conner was next. His fight was all she wanted to see, and then she would slip back out. Rider won in the middle of the third round when the other man tapped out.
Sabrina held her breath as she waited for a glimpse of Conner’s fine body.
It didn’t take long. In a few minutes the announcer was at it again. “…And in the red corner we have Conner ‘The Gladiator’ Bascott. Weighing in at one eight-four, this middleweight champion of the arena has never lost a fight…”
She tuned out the rest of the speech, focusing on Conner’s fine frame as he stepped into the ring. Her breath caught in her throat. His brows were furrowed in concentration—or aggravation. She couldn’t be sure.
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