Thank God.
I let out a huge sigh of relief. At least there was that working in my favor.
Dax called and asked to meet me to take a peek at my Lit notes for an upcoming test, so I headed to the student center.
I arrived and found him sitting in the back at a booth, looking as sexy as ever in a black band shirt featuring the Beastie Boys. I plopped down across from him and handed over my notebook. Seeing him reminded me so much of Declan that my heart ached. “You could have asked to see Declan’s notes, so why don’t you tell me exactly why you called me.”
He cleared his throat and settled in over the table with his hands folded, a serious expression on his face. He let out a deep breath. “I don’t know what kind of jacked-up thing you and my brother are doing to each other, but he’s bloody well gutted … and he has a huge fight on Halloween with some albino freak. Not good. If you still want him—and I know you do—then you better get it sorted and let him know. If you cock this up and ruin his fight, it’s all on you, love.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” I murmured.
He smirked. “That’s the fuck-all truth of the matter.”
I sat back in the booth, worry and fear settling in my gut. Halloween was two days away. I licked my lips. “You really think he might have trouble with this one? Because of me?”
Dax sent me a hard look. “I don’t know. I’m sick of both of you. Maybe if you’d two figure your shit out, he’d be fine.”
“Don’t manipulate me, Dax. We have issues to work through. Plus, I don’t like violence, and I can’t condone it,” I snapped. But even as the words came out of me, part of me yearned to see Declan use his body again. My mind flashed back to the night he’d hit Colby. While I’d been terrified at first, afterwards, I’d been in awe of his power and agility. And his alpha instincts made me hot as hell. I sighed.
Dax shrugged.
Fine. I changed gears. “What about Lorna? He was with her last night, and he didn’t seem to be pining for me when she was hanging all over him.”
“He isn’t with her, but he’s a fool ’cause I’d be shagging that in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t wait for you, but he is.”
My face must have telegraphed my feelings on that because he held his hands up. “Don’t get angry. One day he is going to pick someone else. He is my brother after all.” He exhaled. “So get over your past and get over the fighting and go after your goddamn man.”
I toyed with the scars on my wrists, avoiding his eyes. The standoff between Declan and me wasn’t really because of his fighting. Maybe it had been part of the reason at first, but mostly it was still me being afraid to take that final step and admit my feelings.
To open up myself up to potential heartache.
But didn’t you promise yourself you’d be brave? a small voice reminded me.
Yes, and I had in small steps, slowing climbing that mountain.
But isn’t it time to take a leap?
I stood to leave. I eased my necklace off, the one with Declan’s ring, and handed it over to him. “Will you give this to him? It’s the first piece I’ve created in two years, and it—it has a dragonfly engraved on the inside. He told me the significance, and I haven’t been able to think of anything but him, so I made it.” My voice trembled.
He studied it, then looked at me. He nodded, a solemn expression on his face. “I will.”
He stood up as well and wrapped me in a hug. “Two days,” he whispered in my ear. “Don’t forget.”
MONDAY MORNING I went to Lit class but neither Declan nor Dax were there. I assumed Declan was getting in last-minute training or rest. After working at the bookstore, I came home and cleaned out the fridge and then wiped down the baseboards while the television showed episodes of Downton Abbey. It kept me busy and my mind off of things I didn’t want to think about.
That evening, a knock came at my door.
I opened it and Declan stood there, leaning against the doorjamb, his stance tense, as if he were holding himself in check.
“Hey,” I said. “How are you?” I could barely breathe for taking him in, my eyes soaking in the broad shoulders and muscled biceps.
He nodded, rather formally. “Good. I don’t mean to bother you—”
“You aren’t. I’m just here … alone. Catching up on Downton Abbey. And cleaning. I need to do the kitchen and bathroom next, maybe my closets.” I stopped. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling.” I forced a laugh.
His face never changed.
“Do you want to come in?” My voice shook, and I coughed to make it stop.
He cleared his throat. “No, I was just popping by to tell you I asked a cop friend to investigate Colby. He said he’s living in some apartments on the south side of Whitman.” He sighed. “I’ve been checking out the carpark and your place from my balcony every night, and if I’m not here, I call the campus police and they’ve done some drive-bys. I know things have changed between us, but I’m here if you need me.”
Oh.
“Thank you. That means a lot.” Please come inside. I fidgeted with the door handle.
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket and checked what I assumed was a text message.
“Someone important?” I asked. I tried to keep the resentment out of my voice. I really did. I had no reason to be jealous. I’d had my chance.
He flicked his eyes at me. “My date.”
My heart dipped. “Is she pretty?”
He shrugged.
Pain ricocheted through me. Stop, just fucking stop it already.
I picked my broken heart up, dusted it off, and shoved it back in my chest.
I caught a flash of silver on his hand and froze. My breath snagged in my throat. “You’re wearing the ring I made you?”
He grew still, his thumb flicking at the sterling silver band on the ring finger of his right hand.
“It looks great,” I murmured. “I—I had to guess at the measurements, but it seems like I got it right.” I held myself together. Not letting him see how emotional it made me to know he was wearing it. Did he love it as much as I did? Did he think about me at all?
“Thank you for the gift.” He fidgeted. “I think about y—my mum when I wear it.”
“I—I didn’t expect you to wear it on a date.”
“Jealous?”
I stiffened. “No.”
“Liar.” He shrugged, a sad smile on his face. “Whatever. I don’t really have a date, not unless you count the gym. She can be a bitch sometimes.”
Yes.
“Declan, I—I want you to come in. Please. I need to tell you …” I stopped, afraid to finish the sentence. I swallowed.
He rubbed his cheek, the dark shadow there a testament to his virility, his maleness. His eyes were a stormy gray as he gazed at me, as if a thousand turbulent emotions churned inside him. “It’s late, Elizabeth. I need to prepare for tomorrow, and I didn’t come here to argue with you. Just to tell you about Colby.”
But I didn’t want to argue.
He took a step back from my door and sent me one final look, his gaze distant as it raked over me.
He was done with me. I’d waited too damn long.
I sensed it deep in my soul, that fragile connection between us being pulled taut until it was ready to snap. I wanted to bend over and cry.
And then he was gone.
HALLOWEEN ARRIVED.
I went to class in a daze and by three I was at the bookstore to work my shift. Rick had said we could wear costumes to work, so Shelley and I had done a quick power shopping trip to pick me up something at the mall. I’d ended up choosing a lime green Tinkerbelle costume with a shimmery tank and tutu and pointy ballet flats with a fluffy ball on the toe. Itchy and uncomfortable, I went with it. I didn’t care.
Weighing heavily on my mind was the fight, but the deal was no one knew exactly where and when it was unless they were part of some inner circle. Shelley and Blake weren’t, so we waited to hear through the grapevine.
Shelley and Blake had stopped by the store on their way out to a costume party at one of the frat houses. She’d chosen a zombie cheerleader costume and Blake was a zombie football player. They left to hit the parties, and I stayed behind to finish my shift.
Three hours after they left, my phone pinged.
Shelley.
CALL ME ASAP, her text read.
“Excuse me, I have to get this,” I told Rick and went to the back storeroom.
I texted her, What’s wrong? Still at work. Can’t call. Text me.
Declan is fighting in an hour!! was her response.
I called her quickly, my voice hushed. Rick had a strict no cell-phones-at-work policy. “What’s going on?”
“He’s fighting at a warehouse on Water Street, the one next to the old cotton gin.” She rattled off an address. Her voice lowered. “This place is going to be insane with music and drinking and all kinds of shit. I don’t know if you can handle it.”
My chest rose as I inhaled. I’d already forgotten the address. “Text me the address, and I’ll meet you there.”
I ROLLED MY shoulders and paced around the small area behind a screen that Nick, the fight organizer, had set up earlier in the warehouse, trying to block out the blaring music and flashing lights behind me. Max had counted over five hundred heads at the door earlier—the biggest turnout ever. I checked my wrapped fists and my cup. All was good. I let out a pent-up breath and air-boxed to keep the adrenaline pumping. I was ready to knock this out.
Dax popped around the screen. “This place is a bloody freak show. Students are here in costumes from the frat parties. Suits are everywhere. Fuck, it’s crowded.” He grimaced, his face torn as if something was bugging him.
I paused my boxing. “What’s going on?”
He fidgeted and scratched his head. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I figure it’s better coming from me than suddenly seeing her in the crowd—Elizabeth’s here.”
I stepped back from the screen, my eyes skating through the crowd. “Where?”
He shook his head. “I saw her when she came in, but then we got separated. This place is a madhouse.”
I exhaled. Dammit. Now I had her to worry about. “Make sure she gets out of here, okay?”
He nodded and looked over at Yeti. “He’s fucking huge, man. He looks like an albino rat on steroids … that’s very hungry.”
I slapped him on the back. “Relax, his reach sucks.”
He nodded, his face still unsure, but he gave me a fist bump. “Kick his arse, brother. I got money on you.”
“Done.”
He stalked off but stopped a few feet outside the makeshift ring—chalk lines on the ground—jostling around with some of the more hardcore students for a good view. He was never too far from me at a fight. Max came over and took up position in my corner.
Nick blew a bullhorn, signaling the start of the match, and the music grew louder as I stepped into the twelve by twelve ring. Fucking joke. This fight had no rules and no one ever stayed inside the lines.
Yeti came in like the monster he was, his beefy body circling mine as we sized each other up.
We started out slow, each of us testing, until about sixty seconds in when he launched himself at me. Crisp fists landed on my gut, and a powerful one hit my shoulder as I pivoted away.
I inhaled at the pain, sucked it up.
Now it was on.
I clenched my fists and ran for him and got in four hits to the chest, sidestepping back when he retaliated by striking heavy with his right, aiming for my throat and chin.
He missed.
I attacked again, my palm strikes ripping into his shoulders and gut, slicing up to get to his lungs to knock the breath out of him. Punch. Punch. Punch.
He grunted. Blood flew through the air. The crowd screamed.
Yeah. Go down, fucker.
He tore away from me and paced, his face red as he shook it off, but then he grinned, teeth showing. Apparently, Yeti didn’t wear a mouth guard.
A flash of blond hair in the crowd grabbed my attention, and his palm strike connected squarely with my ear twice, bam, bam, then he flipped around and elbowed me in the gut, his other fist connecting with my temple when I bent over.
Dots flashed in front of my eyes.
The room faded.
Wake the fuck up.
My chest heaved as I sucked in air and stumbled away from him.
He tossed back his head and let out a roar. The crowd egged him on, clapping and calling his name.
I shook the hits off, rose up, and went at him again, this time using an elbow strike combination with leg kicks. He took both hits to the chest and went down to his knees. Success. I pounced and we wrestled to the floor, the hard concrete grinding in my shoulder as we grappled for control. I used a forearm submission move.
I pushed him down and got in one … two … three quick punches.
Dir-ty Eng-lish! Dir-ty Eng-lish! the crowd chanted.
He goosed up with a head-butt as I pounded him; I swerved.
He bucked up again, this time stronger. My purchase slipped. Dammit.
Not yet.
He grunted and blood spurted from his face as I hit his nose with my palm.
I lowered him closer to the ground until his nose kissed concrete.
“Fight’s over, Yeti,” I muttered, and in the millisecond it took me to breath those words, he contorted, loosened the hold and jabbed with his knee, connecting with part of my upper throat.
I gagged and fell back.
Girls screamed. Guys yelled. Max yelled from the sidelines. No clue what he said.
Bugger!
I lost steam. Fast. I couldn’t fucking breathe.
He grinned maniacally and came at me, jabbing at my face. He got my right eye. I kept moving. Avoiding. Dodging. Trying to breathe.
Using all the strength I had, I rolled my hips and retaliated with a jab-cross. The left hook went straight for the liver and the right aimed for the area under his heart. I yelled as it ripped out of me.
He stumbled backward into the crowd, who shoved him back in.
I growled and tore into him, swapping messy blows and kicks, neither of us willing to give in. I scanned the crowd as I paced, looking for blond hair.
I found Elizabeth. And Blake was with her?
Slam! His knee did a punching stab and hit my liver. I crumpled as pain ricocheted through my lower body. Gasping for air, I arched back just as he missed nailing me with a high left leg kick. I swayed around the ring.
Shit-motherfucking-hell.
“Fight’s over, English,” he taunted as he landed another jab to my gut.
Again.
Again.
Air whooshed out and the room spun. My bare feet fumbled around the ring and I tripped and fell to my knees.
Air. Needed fucking air.
Sirens reached my ears first. Then the screams of the spectators as they ran for the exit doors.
“Cops are coming,” a mummy screamed as he ran past and then climbed out one of the windows that lined the south side of the warehouse.
Now it was a madhouse.
Yeti did a crude gesture with his dick and then pointed his finger at me. “This isn’t over. You got lucky this time, English. Next time, I’ll kill you then I’ll fuck you.” He rocked his hips and laughed. As I watched him, he jogged over to his manager and then darted out a door that led to a myriad of offices in the back. I had no clue if there was an exit back there.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Max yelled as he grabbed my arm and tugged me toward the main doors of the warehouse.
“Wait,” I wheezed out and pulled loose from him. “Where’s Dax?” I scanned the room, looking for his build. “And Elizabeth? She’s here somewhere.”
“Don’t be an idiot. You’re the one they’ll arrest,” he yelled at me.
The sirens blared loud now, the flashing blue lights ricocheting into the cracked windows.
I turned to him. �
�Go on. I’m coming right behind you.”
He groaned and gave up on me and ran for the door.
I stood in the middle of the chaos. Most of the place had emptied except for the people who’d been on the top level and were trying to maneuver the rickety stairwells.
No blond hair. No Dax as far as I could tell.
“This way!” a voice called from across the warehouse, nearly thirty feet away.
Dax stood at a broken window, poised to crawl through. Elizabeth stood next to him, her eyes like saucers. She motioned with wild hands for me to come on.
The squeal of tires came to a stop outside the warehouse. Car doors opened. Voices yelled.
I sprinted toward them. Dammit, I was too far away.
“Push her out first,” I yelled. “Cops are right behind me.”
He got what I meant and hoisted her up, careful to avoid the jagged shards of glass. Her legs disappeared over the edge.
“Go, Dax!”
He shook his head, a pleading look on his face as he watched me run through a group of girls who’d had too much to drink and were trying to get out.
He sent me one final look and jumped through the window. Through the panes of the glass, I saw his shadow grab Elizabeth’s and run for a neighboring building’s ally.
I ran hard toward the window and dove headfirst through it. Hitting the ground, I rolled back to my feet and kept moving.
Shouts came through the window from the interior of the warehouse.
Shit. The cops had come inside.
Go, go, go, I told myself.
I turned the corner of the building and darted down the dark alley where I was hoping Dax had gone. They weren’t there, so I kept running between buildings and calling their names. My fear was the cops would spread out, but with five hundred people going in every direction, I hoped they had their hands full.
Where were they?
I turned down a small side street nearly a block over when I saw them waving at me as they waited next to a dumpster in an alley.
I jogged over to them.
Dax sent me a wild look. “Cops? What the hell? That’s never happened—and my car is parked over there,” he wailed as he bent over to catch his breath. “Fun times, bro.”
Dirty English Page 19
