“Frost,” he drawls, leaning a shoulder against the cinderblock wall. “You’re staring off into space. Your head isn’t in this fight. You sure you’re good?”
“I’m fine,” I say, which is the universal code forback the fuck off.
Vegas narrows his eyes. “You’re off. Wanna tell me why?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll guess.” He smirks. “Woman?”
I freeze for half a second, and that’s all the confirmation he needs.
His grin spreads wide. “I fucking knew it. You’re looking at me like a man who had a five-minute conversation and lost his damn soul over it.”
I glare. “Wasn’t like that.”
“Sure,” he says, clearly entertained. “She got a name?”
“Hope. Didn’t get her last one.” Hell, I barely know anything about her. I don’t even know if she made it home okay after I walked out of that cafe. The idea of something happening to her makes my pulse spike and my breathing quicken.
Vegas lifts a brow. “You don’t know her last name, and you’re this distracted? How’d ya meet her?”
“At a coffee shop on my way here. Some asshole was hassling her, wouldn’t leave her alone. I intervened.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. “She offered me a cup of coffee and a seat. We chatted for a bit.”
“Must’ve been some conversation. What does she do?”
“Do?” I ask, confused.
“For work, dumbass.” Vegas shakes his head. “Or didn’t you exchange the bare minimum information?”
I hesitate. “Writes romance novels.”
Vegas barks out a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. The coldest bastard in New Mexico taken down by a woman who writes lovey, dovey, happily-ever-after shit.” I glare daggers at him, which only makes him laugh harder. “Damn, she must be something to have you this distracted,” he wheezes.
Is she?
She is. Way more than I realized, but I shove that thought down, focusing on the cage. Right now, I need to worry about dropping the guy inside who is waiting for me. I’ve got no business thinking about some romance writer whose smile keeps messing with my brain.
Vegas claps me on the shoulder. “Look, whoever she is, she’ll still be there after the fight, if she’s meant to be. Right now, you give me your head in that cage. Understood?”
I nod, but even as I walk toward the entrance, her face lingers in my mind. The cage door slams behind me, and the familiarclangsnaps me back to the present. All the noise from the crowd, bets being shouted, and Vegas barking orders fades behind me. My opponent is already in the center of the mat, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
He’s a big bastard, easily six-four with a thick neck, massive shoulders, and tree-trunk arms. He’s the type of guy who thinks his size will intimidate his opponent and send him running instead of being ready to trade punches. He grins when he sees me, like he’s being handed an easy victory. Poor asshole has no idea who he just stepped into the ring with.
Speakers buzz in the corner of the warehouse. “Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the main event… In this corner, we have Tank.”
I bite my tongue to keep from laughing.
Tank… Really? How fucking original.
Tank narrows his eyes. I guess I didn’t hide my amusement as well as I thought. I snicker, and the vein in Tank’s head pulsates.
The announcer continues. “And in this corner we have Frost.”
The ref steps in between us. “I want a clean fight, understand?”
I smirk. “Sure.”
The ref gives the signal, and the crowd surges to their feet. I can tell from the sluggish rhythm of his footwork that Tank’s slow. He’s built like, well, a tank, and should easily be able to bulldoze over his enemy, but he has no finesse. Me? I’m a fucking shark. I stalk my prey. They’ll see me coming but never know when I’ll strike.
