Dublin Nights Series Box Set: On the Edge & On the Line

by Brittney Sahin

  I shut the door and waited to see what she wanted.

  She glanced around the foyer of the apartment.

  “How’d you know I was at Kate’s?” I asked, folding my arms.

  Holly’s eyes flashed my way. “This was the address you listed at the office.”

  Oh yeah. I had changed it after I moved out of the hotel.

  “So, why are you here?”

  “Well, I was sitting around my flat staring at the clock. My nerves totally shot. I thought that maybe you’d be losing your mind, too. Maybe you’d want company.” She slipped a hand inside her enormous, brown and gold designer bag and produced a bottle of wine. “Looks like you had the same idea.” She tipped her head toward my wine glass.

  “Um.” I didn’t know what to say. Did she know Adam and I were, well, not so much an “Adam and I” anymore? Based on our last conversation, I was pretty sure we were done.

  We were done, right?

  God, how naïve was I to even question it? And yet some idiot part of me clung to the idea that Adam would apologize, explain, and all would be well.

  “Have you ever seen Adam fight?” I walked to the temporary bar that Kate had set up in the living room and grabbed a long-stemmed wine glass for Holly. I poured her a drink from my already opened bottle.

  “Thanks,” she answered softly as she dropped her coat on the couch. She lifted the drink from my fingers.

  I, too, reached for my glass. I was more in need of alcohol now than I had ever been.

  Holly’s nails tapped at the wine glass, and she looked up at me. “He almost killed my boyfriend when I was younger, but Sean stopped him. Good thing. But I’ve never seen him fight in the ring.” She cleared her throat. “Have you?”

  I sank to the couch, and Holly joined me a moment later, sitting next to me. “I saw him by accident.”

  Holly’s perfectly arched brows rose as she sipped her wine.

  “It was awful.”

  “Do you think he’ll be okay tonight? The other guy is undefeated, too, and I’m kind of nervous.” She lowered her glass and held it tight between both palms. “Okay, maybe a lot nervous.”

  “Me too.”

  “What if we—”

  I straightened, my shoulders rolling back. “Go?” Were we really discussing this? Adam might lose his mind if he saw me there.

  She sighed. “I think we should go. I think he needs someone in his corner. He’d never admit it, but . . .”

  I was already nodding my head. “I’ll find out where it is.” I jumped up and rushed to the kitchen for my phone. I scrolled through my contacts and called Rick. My fingers clawed at my thighs as I waited for him to answer.

  “Anna, hey.”

  I cut the pleasantries and sputtered, “I need you to call your brother. I need you to ask him where tonight’s fight will be.”

  “You okay?” Rick asked, his voice full of worry.

  “No, I’m not. So . . . can you help me? Please.” I peeked at Adam’s sister out of the corner of my eye, still not quite believing she was here.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Thanks, Rick. Text me the location as soon as you know it.”

  “You want to tell me what this is all about?”

  “No.” I hung up. It was rude, but I wasn’t ready to get into it.

  I clutched my phone tight in my hand as I waited impatiently for a response. “I should probably change.”

  Holly gave me a half smile and went back to her wine, her eyes seeming dazed as she stared at the coffee table in front of her.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll be right back.” I darted into my bedroom. What the hell do I wear to a fight that I’ve not been invited to, where the guy I’m falling for is about to pound the shit out of someone?

  I opted for jeans, boots, and a sweater. I started to turn but stopped.

  Adam’s leather jacket was hanging in my closet. He’d given it to me on Sunday before I’d left his home.

  I grabbed it and put it on. I shut my eyes and raised a sleeve to my nose, inhaling his piney scent.

  The sound of a text had my eyes opening, and I rushed to my bed.

  “I got the address!”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Adam

  I stood off to the side of the ring as the ref announced the winner of the last fight. It had only gone two rounds before the guy with blond corn rows had tapped out. Good. I fecking hated that guy.

  I peeled off my shirt and sweats, tossing them to the side.

  I wasn’t playing music this time to get me pumped up. I didn’t need inspiration for a win.

  I was about to lose for the first time in my life. But I was only losing a fight, which was absolutely meaningless to me in the long run. Worse than that, I was losing Anna.

  “McGregor! McGregor!” It was like a chorus all around me when it was announced Frankie and I were coming up next.

  Dammit, I didn’t want to do this. I’d never wanted to not fight so much in my life.

  I still couldn’t forget the look on Anna’s face Wednesday night. She had seemed so betrayed—it had gutted me. I was the cause of her pain.

  She was better off without me, though. Everyone was.

  “You ready?” The ref was the same guy who’d called Leslie’s fight a few months ago. Now he was here to witness my demise.

  I glanced over at Frankie as they announced his name and he climbed the stairs into the ring.

  “Yeah. I’m ready,” I muttered. I stretched the black gloves on over my hands. I cracked my knuckles, and then my neck. I shook my limbs to loosen up.

  But what did it matter?

  Of course, Donovan didn’t want me to make it look obvious that I was throwing the fight. I’d at least get in a few good shots. But I needed to throw my jabs and elbows lighter than normal. I couldn’t very well afford to knock the bloke out accidentally.

  “Feck me,” I whispered as I climbed into the ring. The room went dark for a moment as a damn light show of our nation’s colors flashed around the room and Irish folk music blared. Sure, because Donovan Hannigan was so patriotic.

  I shook out my arms and bounced on the balls of my feet. People sang and cheered, acting as if they were actually in a professional arena and not at a fight hosted by a crime boss.

  When the lights came back on, I was staring into Frankie’s dark brown eyes, my chest inflating as anger filled me. If only Les hadn’t fought him that day . . . but then I’d never have gotten to know Anna.

  “You can touch gloves if you choose. And—”

  I didn’t even hear the rest. I couldn’t hear anything. The world had fallen silent. I looked around, and I could see people’s mouths moving. The crowd was making noise, but I was somehow outside it all. Nothing existed but Frankie and me.

  Frankie swung. He overshot, putting way too much weight on his right leg as he came at me. I blocked his punch and countered with a light tap.

  “Come on,” his lips urged.

  I allowed him to lunge forward again. A punch to my chin and a leg kick to my torso. I fell back and smacked hard against the ground. I had never been much of a grappler, so I wouldn’t have to pretend to give him the advantage on the floor.

  Frankie kneeled over me, and my head snapped to the left as he punched me, and I squeezed my eyes shut before I took an elbow to the face.

  There was the taste of metal in my mouth—blood on my lip. I opened my eyes and began to fight back, forgetting momentarily Donovan’s rules. I wrapped my leg around his and threw my own elbow, catching him in the side of the face, and then I flipped him off me and hopped back up.

  The crackling sound of his bone to my flesh inspired me even more, causing my fingers to twitch with anticipation. But shit—I wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Losing would be a hell of a lot harder than I’d realized.

  I dropped my guard a little, and Frankie plowed toward me. I slowly raised my fists as if to protect myself. Another punch to the face busted my lip completely.

  I
kicked his shin and jabbed an uppercut to his core. It had to look legit, right?

  Two more punches connected with Frankie’s face, and he stumbled back, blinking.

  Shit. Keep it together, Frankie.

  Fortunately, the man straightened and regained his composure.

  He came at me with a jab to my face.

  A punch to my core.

  A kick to the side of my head.

  The previous cut above my eye had been opened, blood clouding my vision. I closed the one eye shut and focused on my opponent with the other.

  The pain should have bothered me. I should have felt it. But instead, I was numb. I couldn’t feel a damn thing.

  I allowed Frankie to knock me back to the ground. It’d be more realistic if he won that way since he was a decent wrestler.

  He locked me in a choke hold, and I shut my eyes. I resisted a little for show, grabbing his hands near my throat, but I knew this would be it. I’d tap out, and it’d be over. Well, that would be it for now. When Donovan decided to pull my strings again, I’d have to oblige.

  Abby’s face came to mind, and my body stirred.

  Then I remembered Conor. And Chloe. Anna, of course. The visit to the horse farm jumped front and center to my mind. A pain worse than any blow from Frankie struck me hard thinking about them. There’d never be another trip.

  I snapped back to reality, to Frankie’s hold tightening around my throat. I was losing too much oxygen. If I didn’t tap out soon, I’d pass out. My eyes flashed open and my fingers loosened around Frankie’s grip . . .

  And then I saw her.

  Anna was standing outside the ring. Her fingers were wrapped around the chain fence, clinging to it as if she were going to actually climb it, to come in and rescue me.

  Stars started to scatter before my eyes, and a flash of blackness became a veil before me.

  And then I did something completely stupid. To be honest, I’m not sure how it was even possible.

  But still, I fought back.

  Somehow, I twisted out of Frankie’s hold and managed to get to my feet. I could hear the roars of the crowd now. I could hear every sound, including Anna’s voice.

  “Adam,” she cried, gripping the wire.

  And at that moment, I knew what I had to do.

  Frankie stood with his guard raised—eying me cautiously.

  I brought my hands back up and curled them in front of me. I flicked my wrists, waving him on. “Come and get me,” I mouthed.

  Frankie barreled toward me, but I caught him with my right fist and followed hard with a left hook. I jumped up into the air with all my strength and my knee connected with his jaw—a flying knee knockout.

  Frankie flew to the ground—lights out. Game over.

  The ref waved his hands in the air as his whistle blew.

  I stared down at Frankie for a moment, and then I looked over my shoulder at Anna. Her hands covered her mouth as she stared back at me, her eyes a liquid green.

  The crowd was hollering. Roaring.

  Too bad their joy wouldn’t last.

  I snatched the mic from the announcer as he came into the ring, ready to declare me as the winner. I tipped my head at him in apology and then looked out into the crowd, tossing my bloody mouth guard to the floor as I searched for the strength to do what needed to be done.

  “I need your attention,” I shouted as Frankie staggered to the stairs and exited the ring.

  My heart raced in my chest, and I prayed to God that this would work.

  “Donovan Hannigan”—I said his name slowly—“is a lying, thieving sack of shite.” I pointed out to where Donovan had been standing before.

  He was gone. He’d just lost millions, thanks to my win.

  “Looks like Donovan has already taken off—and with all of your money.” I shook my head as the crowd murmured. “You see, I was supposed to lose this fight.” I touched a gloved hand to my blood-streaked chest. “Since most of you all bet on me to win, well, Donovan stood to make a hell of a lot of money if I lost.”

  I heard shouts and cursing from the crowd. Open mouths. Shock.

  “I was going to do it because he threatened to hurt people I care about. And not just my friends and family.” I swallowed back the emotions in my throat. “Children.” My eyes connected with Anna, and she took a step back from the cage, her eyes widening.

  As much as I wanted to hold her eyes with mine, I needed to stay focused. I needed to direct this angry group if this was going to work.

  “I know some of you out here are Garda. And you enjoy betting on a good fight, even though it’s illegal.” My fingers curled into my palms, becoming a fist near my heart. “But I’m asking you to go after him. Get your feckin’ money. Take the bastard down!” I moved with slow steps, coming closer to the side of the ring where Anna was standing.

  “We can’t let him run this city anymore. There will always be fights, but you don’t need Donovan for that.” People were moving, pushing—fighting their way to the exits. Others stayed, looking at me, listening.

  “I couldn’t lose tonight. I was planning on it, though. I mean, if I didn’t lose, what would happen to the kids? To the people I care about?” I looked back at Anna again, and the understanding—the forgiveness—on her face, almost shredded me. I wanted to sink to my knees.

  But I tried to remain standing. To remain strong. I unfurled my fist and showed Anna my palm—a message to her. I saw the recognition in her eyes.

  “So, please, go after that sick fuck and get your money back. Go after him for threatening to hurt the children of our city for the sake of his own greed. Go after him so no one has to live in fear anymore!”

  I dropped the mic as I watched the audience disperse—hopefully listening to me. I waited a minute then approached Anna. I finally kneeled to the ground, and I slid my fingers up the cage to meet hers. “You’re here.”

  “I’m here,” she murmured.

  “I was going to lose,” I said. “But I saw you, and I—” I released my grip from her hand. “What the hell am I doing?” I dragged a gloved hand down my cheek, still in shock. “Let me come to you.” I tugged off my thin gloves and tossed them, the room emptying as I left the ring.

  I moved fast in Anna’s direction, but Frankie stepped up in front of me, blocking my path.

  I stiffened at the sight of him, my hands snapping into fists at my sides. What the bloody hell did he want?

  “I’m sorry, McGregor. I didn’t know.”

  I tipped my head at him, surprised by his reaction.

  “Good fight.” He reached out to shake my hand. If Frankie could shake my hand, then maybe everything would turn out okay.

  “Adam,” Anna cried, and I craned to look past Frankie to where she was.

  I patted Frankie on the back on my way to her. She flung her arms around my neck, and I pulled her tight against me. “You’re going to get all bloody.”

  “I don’t care.”

  It took me a good minute to finally release her, but when I did, my eyes flickered over to discover Holly standing at her side. “You’re here, too?”

  “Hi, big brother.” Holly forced a weak smile.

  “What’s going on?” I looked to Anna.

  “We thought you’d need someone in your corner. Two someones,” Anna said before biting her lip.

  “You still came, after how I treated you?” I almost couldn’t believe it.

  She tipped her chin up and looked at me in the eyes. “You fought for them.”

  I knew what she meant. “Yes, but when I saw you tonight, I fought for us.”

  “You want there to be an us?” she softly asked, her voice breaking.

  I cupped both her cheeks with my hands and rested my forehead against hers. “Of course,” I whispered. We remained there for a moment until I took a step back.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fresh. No worries, love.” I nodded. “And you’re here, so yeah. I’m more than okay.”


  Anna’s eyes damn near glittered as she looked at me, and I wondered if she really was some sort of angel—a bright light seemed to flood everything she touched—but no, angels weren’t alive. Anna was my real-life miracle.

  “That was a risky thing you did!”

  I turned at the sound of Les’s voice. “You came, too?” I faked a laugh.

  “You think I was going to miss this?” On his crutches, Les stopped before Anna and me. “Hi, Holly. You’re looking as lovely as ever.”

  Holly rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Typical. She hated that he’d continued to fight after I had given it up, hated that I still had that connection to Donovan’s world. “Hi, Les,” she mumbled. “I could kick your arse for putting us through all this.”

  “Oh. It’s you,” Anna said, louder than she probably anticipated in the nearly empty room.

  “And you must be the woman that Adam’s been keeping to himself all these weeks.” Les winked at me and reached for Anna’s hand. “Did you just sign yourself a death warrant with Donovan?” Les shifted his focus back on me as I reached for a towel that someone had left on the bench near the outside of the ring. I slowly wiped the blood off my face and chest.

  “I’m pretty sure that once the crowd catches up with him, I’ll be the last of his worries.” I glanced at Anna. I sure as hell hope so, at least.

  “I can’t believe he wanted you to throw the fight,” Holly said softly, rubbing her arms.

  “There was a lot of money to be made.” I tossed the towel. “It’s over.” I reached for her hand once again and pulled her back to me where she belonged. I tipped her chin up and stared into her eyes before covering her mouth with mine.

  “Eh hem . . .” Holly said, and I took a step back, breaking the kiss.

  “You sure it’s really over?” Anna asked.

  “Donovan dug his own grave tonight. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but when I saw you—I knew what I had to do, and I couldn’t let him own me forever.”

  “And you wanted me to stay away?” Anna forced a smile to her face, but I knew how scared she still was.

  “Thank God you’re smarter than me. And thank you for trusting me—for not running away even when I pushed.” A broad smile met my face, but I grimaced a little and brought my hand to my cheek where the pain began to throb—pain I was officially now feeling.