Page 15

He's only saying that to try to pique my interest, dangling her in front of me like bait.

We both know I'm not coming back here to fight.

Getting in another underground match would go against the promise I made to my sister and Dash, and although I'm still salty that they don't seem to hold the same standards as me when it comes to integrity, considering how they started fucking behind my back, I won't go back on the promise I made after the last fight.

Blood pact and all that shit. I've also got a contract to keep with the Anglerfish.

If they find out I'm taking part in illegal fights, I could lose everything I've worked for my entire life.

Gone in one headline: “Hockey Prospect Caught Cage Fighting, Career Over Before It Began.”

I turn my body so I’m facing the stage and relax my elbows against the bar before throwing Luke a grin. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? A guaranteed win means more money for you.”

He shrugs. “You’d benefit too. I always pay my staff well.”

Staff. The thought annoys me to no end. Just like Savannah, I’m treated as staff. As a means to an end. The only thing he cares about is how much money we can bring in.

“But who knows, this new guy I got…” He whistles, shaking his head. “Damn, I mean, I thought you were a good fighter, but this guy has been working his way through the underground circuit, beating everyone he comes in contact with. It might not be as guaranteed a win as you think.”

Ah, now he’s changing tactics. Challenge my dominance as a fighter and maybe, just maybe, I’ll bite.

“You do realize if I fight again and get caught, I could lose everything, right?”

“Yeah, but one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars can go a long way.”

“That it can.” I turn away from him, surprised that he thinks the money will sway me. One hundred and twenty-five thousand is pennies compared to what I’ll make in the NHL.

“Why don’t you think about it while you watch your girl?”

I’m not about to correct him. Savannah being called my girl sounds right.

“Please welcome Scarlett Cherrywood to the stage.”

The mere mention of her stage name makes my body prickle with interest. Every nerve is suddenly alert because she’s definitely here.

When I look over to the stage, her slender leg pokes out of the curtain first. It’s only a teasing glimpse, but it’s enough to make my mouth go dry.

My fingers itch to run down it and rip off those ridiculous rhinestone-covered torture devices she calls shoes.

How the hell does she walk in them? Is that why her moves are so terrible?

Another step out of the curtain reveals the curve of her hip and the white sequined teddy I saw her in the first time here.

The same outfit that haunts my dreams and makes cold showers a necessity.

I walk away from the bar without acknowledging Luke and head toward the stage, looking for an empty seat at the front.

Not close enough that the lights will out me.

No. I need to stay hidden. To lurk in the shadows as I watch my girl, because yes, she’s already mine in my head, and figure out what the hell kind of hold Luke has over her.

The men cheer lowly when she finally reveals her face. Blood-red lipstick emphasizes lips that should be whispering secrets against mine and the exaggerated winged eyeliner makes her look like some exotic creature.

Her deep green eyes remain stubbornly closed as she walks across the stage, somehow knowing exactly where the pole is without looking.

Surprisingly, her moves are more fluid than I remember. She’s still awkward, but she’s clearly been practicing, which pisses me off. How many fucking nights has Luke forced her onto this stage? More importantly, what kind of leash does he have around her throat that she’s doing this at all?

I clench my jaw so hard I can hear my molars grinding. This isn't right. She doesn't belong up there with dollar bills being thrown at her feet. She belongs next to me, wearing my jersey, screaming my name for entirely different reasons.

Some idiot throws something on the stage, making her flinch her leg. Her nose crinkles, but besides that, there’s no obvious tension in her movements. I know, though. I can tell she hates this. There’s got to be a reason she’s still working here.

Her hand lifts over her head to the pole, and something feral burns inside me when the same guy in the audience calls to her. I memorize his face, knowing we’ll have a good ‘talk’ after this.

She strides past me and opens her eyes for the first time, staring straight at the bar.

At Luke, more specifically.

It’s not a loving glare. There’s something hard as granite in her expression.

Her lips press into a thin line, and I know that look intimately.

I see it every time I’m on the ice laying someone out, or in the ring drawing blood.

It’s the look I give my opponents. Savannah fucking hates him, and that piece of knowledge shouldn’t send a jolt of satisfaction through me, but it does.

I glance over at Luke, unsurprised he’s looking right back at her with a challenging glare that screams ownership.

His elbows rest on the bar as he tracks her every move, her every curve, like he’s mentally calculating how much each inch of her skin is worth to him.

It takes everything in me not to cross the room and introduce his face to the bar top.

What the hell has Luke got on her?

She ignores the remarks from the men as she walks by, flicking that red wig over her shoulder before she wraps her delicate hand around the pole again, dipping low and opening her legs in the process. I nearly have a heart attack because that’s new. She’s not about to dance around that, is she?

She pops back up, spinning around so her back is against the pole.

Fuck me.

It’s only when she flips her hair up from a particularly vigorous move that I realize her eyes are closed again and she’s expressionless. I don’t watch her performance; I watch her face the rest of the time.

Closed. Her eyes never open.

Her fingers grip the cold metal tight, and even though her shoulders are tense, there’s an eerie calmness across her face. There’s no emotion there, just… emptiness.

She’s here, but she isn’t. It’s almost like she’s locked the real Savannah away somewhere safe and her body is going through the motions.

That thought hits like a sucker punch to the gut, knocking the wind from my lungs, and I know with bone-deep certainty that I can't let her continue to face this nightmare alone.

When the music finally fades out, only then do I catch the faintest twitch of a smile on her face.

Relief. It's quickly masked as she bends over, bowing mechanically.

A few pathetic dollar bills get thrown onto the stage, which she ignores completely, in favor of rushing off like the building's about to collapse around her.

When the lights come back up, I stand and make my way back to Luke. “When is she on again tonight?”

“You know I was kidding when I called her your girl, right?” He doesn’t look at me as a worker throws down some dollar bills, ones that I assume are from the stage just now. Guessing those tips won’t end up with Savannah. I had similar treatment when I ‘worked’ here.

“Was that her last performance?”

Luke lets out a humorless chuckle and shakes his head as he takes me in. “You obsessed with her or something?”

“Or something.”

He looks behind him at a piece of paper that I can’t read from here. “She’s got two more performances, but if that’s not enough for you, then you can always book a private room with her. Will only cost you a thousand dollars for thirty minutes.”

My jaw clenches and I curl my hands into fists in my pockets. Private rooms? A thousand dollars? Is that all he thinks she’s worth?

“Does she do that often?”

Luke’s not focused on me anymore. He just continues counting the measly dollar bills from her performance.

“You’d be her first. I don’t usually like to hire her out, but you might be a good option to break her in.”

“Why? Are you dating her?”

“Something like that, but I’d be willing to share with my champion fighter. I’ll even give you a discount. Fifteen minutes for five hundred bucks.”

“How many knocks to the head do you think I’ve taken?”

He chuckles. “Should have known I can’t get anything past you. I’m sure she’d love to see you. What’s a thousand bucks when you’ll make thousands more winning for me in the ring next week?”

If he thinks this is softening me up, then he’s dumber than I thought.

“How about this? I’ll give you five minutes free with her.”

Yeah, I doubt Savannah would appreciate seeing my face in one of those private rooms for the first time, especially since she seems to be living in complete denial that I know exactly what she does here. That or she's hoping I'm blind enough not to recognize her.

“I’m good. I’ll just watch like everyone else.” I rasp my knuckles on the counter, fighting the urge to put them through his face instead. “Another beer, please.”

I stroll back to my seat and relax back as I wait for my girl to come out again.

He lied.

Luke lied to me when he said she was doing two more dances tonight.

I stayed the entire time, and she didn’t come out again.

What a fucking waste. Now I’m sitting in my car, waiting in the parking lot for her to come out, feeling pathetic.

It’s been two hours since the place closed.

We’re way past midnight and I don’t see her car here.

She’s gone. I just haven’t admitted it to myself yet.

My phone buzzes. “Not again,” I mumble.

I scroll through the incessant messages Madison has sent me.

All of them have attachments, and I frown at the digital assault.

My poor dog has been subjected to countless photos and videos of him dressed as a goddamn polar bear tonight.

Does he look distressed? No. His tongue is hanging out like he's having the time of his life, and his tail is wagging hard enough to generate electricity.

The traitor. My biggest concern is that his haphazard, eager-to-please demeanor is only going to serve to encourage my sister more.

By next week, she'll have him in a full Broadway costume with backup dancers.

Cade: I think it’s time you let Stanley sleep. Are you staying at mine tonight?

Madison: When are you coming home?

I look up at the bar again, making sure I haven’t missed her.

Nope. No one is there. I’m still out here alone.

When I see Luke walk out of the bar, my stomach sinks.

She’s gone. There’s no way she’s still in there.

He’s locking up. Did she leave straight after her first performance? Maybe she does have another job.

What a waste of my fucking night.

I sigh, typing a message back to Madison.

Cade: I’ll be back in an hour. Won’t let Stanley be on his own for too long.

Madison: Then I might get Dash to come and pick me up.

I hope one day I won’t retch when I think about my sister and Dash together.

Today is not that day. I stop myself from responding with anything other than thanks because there’s no point creating any tension between them.

She’s just trying to help me out, and I know she wants me to forgive her. I’m not sure I’m there just yet.

I start my car, ready to turn out of the parking lot. It’s only then I notice the familiar sedan parked opposite at the chicken joint.

Savannah’s.

The headlights are off, and it’s only when I see the flicker of a light coming from the back that I realize she must be in there.

I can’t let this opportunity go to waste. I need to talk to her and if trapping her in her own car is the only way I’m going to get her to listen, well, then I guess that’s what I’m doing. Rock bottom has a basement, and I’m currently taking the express elevator straight to it.