Page 26

One of Kean’s men steps in and grabs my wrist, raising my hand in victory. The crowd erupts. Through the haze of victory and lingering adrenaline, I look over at Lucy in the crowd. My heart stalls when I don’t see her where I’ve left her. My gaze darts about, and fear gnaws in my gut. Did Kean’s men recognize her? Has some asshole hauled her off?

I catch a glimpse of blonde hair weaving through the crowd toward a restroom. She glances back and her face is chalk-white, reminiscent of just before she fainted.

Fuck. I didn’t even think that this situation would trigger her. Didn’t she say she only fainted at the sight of her own blood?

Kean’s man still has my arm raised. Some Kean soldiers nod with newfound respect. Any other time, I'd play into it. This is exactly the in I've been working toward. The smart play would be to let her go. Stay here, capitalize on my win, get closer to the Keans. That's the mission. That's what matters.

But Lucy…

I yank my arm free, exit the ring, and shoulder through the crowd. Someone calls out about my winnings. The money can wait. Everything can wait.

I follow Lucy's trail to the warehouse's bathroom. My knuckles still throb from the fight, blood crusting around the edges. Sweat drips down my chest, my boxing shorts clinging to my skin as I push through the door.

"Lucy?" There are two stalls but only one is occupied. I turn the bolt of the door to give us privacy. I go to the stall. She hasn’t locked the door. As I gently push it open, I see her leaning against the stall wall, taking in deep breaths.

"What happened?" Anger simmers inside me. "Did someone touch you?"

She shakes her head but won't look at me. Her chest rises and falls too quickly. She's either crying or having a panic attack. Maybe both.

"Lucy." I step closer, ducking my head to catch her eye. "Talk to me. You’re going to pass out again."

She sucks in a breath, making a valiant effort to calm herself down. “No one bothered me,” she finally answers my question. Well, that’s good. The rage lurking at the edge diminishes, leaving only my worry.

"Was it the fight?”

“It’s so brutal.”

I give her a lopsided grin. “I’m fine.” Maybe I should have checked myself before saying that. I could be dripping blood from my mouth.

"It wasn't just you." Lucy wraps her arms tighter around herself. "The fight before… is he dead?"

I don’t have an answer. He could be. Death isn’t the goal of these underground fights, but it certainly happens.

"And then you got in that ring." Her voice cracks. "That man sucker punched you, and…”

A smirk tugs at my lips again. "Aw, were you worried about little old me?"

"Don't." She jabs a finger at my chest. "Don't make this into a joke. You could have been seriously hurt."

"Says the woman who keeps chasing gangsters into dark places." I catch her hand before she can pull it back, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. "At least I know how to throw a punch."

Lucy tries to glare, but there's no real heat behind it. "That's different. I'm careful.”

I shake my head. “No, you’re not. Following O’Brian into a dark alley is not careful. Tracking Ronan Kean into dark warehouses is not careful.”

"I had backup." She tilts her chin up defiantly. "You were there."

I laugh. “Because you think I’m stalking you?”

"I can take care of myself."

"Sure you can, sunshine. That's why you're hiding in a bathroom having a panic attack."

"I'm not hiding," she protests, but her fingers curl into my bare chest, betraying her nervousness. "I just needed a minute."

I press closer, caging her against the wall. "You were worried about me." I trace my thumb along her jaw, savoring how she shivers at my touch. "Admit it."

Lucy's teeth catch her bottom lip. "Your ego doesn't need the boost."