“Get dressed for the gym. We leave in ten.”
I stop mid-step and grab the hand railing. I peer down the flight of stairs at Cross, who is staring up at me with a look that should scare me. Instead, it does the opposite. For a brief second, I let down my guard and allow that hot glare to do what my body wants it to do, and I regret it almost immediately when heat washes over me.
I quickly put my back to him. “Or what?” I snap, irritated at him and his stupid glare.
“Or I’ll come up there and dress you,” he threatens. “Ten minutes, Scarlett.”
I run up the stairs and rush toward my bedroom to get dressed,but little does he know, I’m actually running from him.
[ 17 ]
CROSS
I don’t knowwhy I’m fucking panicking about Scarlett not knowing how to defend herself, but seeing that SUV–and her split second of fear that then dissipated when she realized it wasn’t that bag of dicks—twisted me up. And thenIsaw who was in the driver’s seat, and I was back in Stanley’s office while he fucking threatened her.
Because of my idiocy.
Damn it, Tyler was right. Iama dumbass.
“Where are we going?”
I glance over at Scarlett, sitting shotgun in the car I used fighting money to buy last year. I had saved up for, like, fourteen months to pay cash. And then my mother marries a guy who would’ve bought this for me without batting an eye–or notice the missing cash from his bank account.
In reality, I should’ve told my mother the truth when she called. I should’ve thrown Scarlett under the bus.Instead, I said I wanted to upgrade my car and asked if Robert could front me some cash.
Lie. But how the fuck am I going to come up with fifty thousand otherwise? Scarlett thinks I only owe twenty. Stanley has already texted me details about the fight in the next townover. It’s not cage fighting. It’s more like scrapping with no rules. Like the movieFight Club. It’s no wonder I hadn’t heard about this ring. First rule of fight club, after all…
The money is decent if you win, but Stanley made some vague claims about it being damn hard to actually win. The fighters are bigger. They’re full-blown adults who will not take kindly to a college kid walking in and trying to claim their prize money.
Whatever.
“Cross.” Scarlett’s tone is impatient.
I smirk. “Yes, dear?”
She tenses. “I asked–”
“You should recognize this route.” I make the final turn, and the abandoned warehouse comes into view. “You drove it once with Sawyer, and again with me.”
“Fucking hell.” She eyes me. “I don’t want to be here. I thought you said we’d go to the gym.”
“It’s better no one knows,” I reason. “If they suspect you have some knowledge of self-defense, they’re going to come at you differently.”
“You haven’t saidwho.” Her eyes widen. “Are you talking about Nick?”
I grimace. “No. Well, sure. Maybe.”
I throw the car into park and hop out. The side door is still unlocked–I’m shocked it’s even closed all the way, honestly–and the hinges squeal when I shove it open. The bottom scrapes across the dirty concrete.
“I don’t like this place,” she says softly, right behind me.
Jesus, maybe being a ghost could be one of her talents.
I motion for her to go ahead of me into the dark, objectively creepy hallway. Her phone’s flashlight comes on, and she steps ahead of me.
I follow and shove the door shut behind me, enveloping us in darkness.
“What’s your plan? Tackle me in the dark?” her voice quivers. Her flashlight is pointed down, illuminating her shoes.
