CHAPTER 31
Luna
I step onto the mat at the edge of the combat side of the gym and want to smile, because fucking finally! Some training!
I have been beyond frustrated the last few days.
His giant bear-dog is leading me in circles.
Marlon and I ditched her and finally found a back fence.
As soon as I did Tink showed up and lost her mind with loud barks until I finally turned around to head home.
Even with her excitement, the discovery was deeply disappointing because it was just a simple split rail fence.
I found the back edge of the property. I’ve walked the whole place and nothing.
Nothing!
So I’m eager to spar.
But Quinn is in a mood, I can tell. He stands across from me, muscles tense beneath his usual gear—a tight black athletic shirt, cargo pants and a blank face with a telling tick in his jaw.
He’s annoyed. Or maybe angry. I pushed hard for this until he caved. Which taught me that he can and will cave to me eventually, which is, I think, what he’s truly agitated about.
That and maybe, kind of, almost…kissing me last night by the door.
He wanted to.
Ugh.
I wanted him to.
Weak, Luna!
I shake my head and focus on the task at hand.
He seems even bigger right now than usual as I approach.
The lighting in his state-of-the-art facility is sectioned over each area, like boxing rings.
It casts long shadows over his scarred face.
Makes his huge biceps and hulking chest seem even more impressive.
Unfortunately, as much as I try not to think about it, he is, without question, unbelievably hot.
I have to force myself not to ogle him.
On the other hand, his eyes rake over me quickly, assessing before going back to the floor where he starts adjusting the mat.
His frown deepens like he doesn’t like what he sees.
I’ve stopped trying to wear anything alluring.
My sports bra shows I’ve got small tits and even though I’m wearing what some people call ass leggings that are supposed to push up your cheeks, there’s not much to push up.
Oh, well.
I’m not here to attract him.
I’m here to learn from him.
He’s mad I won this little battle. He’s afraid he’ll hurt me. He was jealous again, too. Or, maybe, he doesn’t want anyone else touching what’s his and he knows I won’t give up until I get some reps in. He surely has better things to do with his time.
To all of that I say, uh, too damn bad.
If I take one measly thing away from this time in Irish captivity it will be how to really hold my own in a fight.
First, though, a little recon. I heard a couple guys grumbling about the Italians coming to help. The Italians as in, my family, just like Papa promised when we got married.
“Heard my cousin’s coming to save your giant ass,” I start. Quinn huffs a bitter sound but doesn’t look up. “You’re not going to deny it?”
“No point, you’ll see him yourself when he arrives.”
So, Zeno is coming. At the thought of my blood cousin, one of my dearest friends since birth, here in this bizarre compound, something in me snaps.
“You better not get him shot, Quinn,” I spit. At that, his eyes jump to me but he still looks angry. “I mean it, he’s like a brother. And a good person, which is saying something in the shit world we live in. If you’re sloppy with your plans and something happens to him, I will actually kill you.”
“Huh. You’ll have to get close enough to me first. So,” he opens his stance. “Attack,” he orders, his voice flat. I hesitate, annoyed he already sounds bored. He adds, “Come on. Show me what your overpriced, secret trainer taught you.”
I clench my jaw and drop into a fighting stance, already pissed. I dart forward, faking a right jab then pivot swiftly into a leg sweep. Quinn barely shifts his weight, absorbing the blow without even a flinch.
Some men snicker off to the side, but I don’t glance away. Quinn could charge if I let down my guard.
“Out,” he calls loudly. As the men begrudgingly clear the room he says, “Your speed was decent, but your eyes gave every thought away. If I see it coming, you’re already dead. Again.”
I lunge again, trying for a wrist lock but he twists easily from my grip.
“Pathetic,” he spits, shaking his head. “Is this the Luna Mancini who was going to become Don? The woman who is going to destroy me? I don’t think so. Come on.”
Fury rises in my throat and settles on my cheeks and I hate it.
I hate being embarrassed. Any ember of friendship I thought we had has just been doused with his sneer.
Even if he’s just saying shit to get me emotional, to push me, I’m over this hot and cold bullshit.
His verbal jabs are hitting way too close to home.
I step back and try to keep my voice from quivering, “You and I both know, when I take you down, it’s not going to be with hand to hand combat.”
“Why train at all then?” he smirks, so damn above it all. Above me. He motions with his fingers for me to advance again.
I circle slowly, “Because something is seriously wrong with this place, and when an attack comes, which I’m positive it will because you’re so smug out here with your acreage and your walls, just begging to be taken down a notch.
” He huffs a laugh but I go on, “So when that day arrives and you all go down in flames, and I have to fight my way out of this hell hole, I’d prefer to live. ”
My circle purposefully baits him into relaxing his guard. Without warning, I feint high—a convincing right hook—but I drop sharply instead, sliding into a quick scissor sweep, my legs slicing toward his ankles.
It almost works! Quinn stumbles slightly, a flicker of surprise in his night-black eyes, but his reflexes are too fast. He shifts, pivots, and immediately counters by hooking his foot under my leg, sending me sprawling onto my back. I hit the mat hard, the impact rattling through my spine.
“Better,” he mocks coldly. “But just barely. Still amateur hour.”
“Then quit insulting me and fucking teach me,” I snap, my voice tighter than I want.
His eyes darken as he replies, “This is me teaching. Move faster. Quit broadcasting your moves and use a hell of a lot more strength, or this is just a waste of my time.”
I swallow what’s left of my pride, eyes stinging, and channel my embarrassment into rage. I clench my teeth, pushing quickly onto one knee. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me get emotional.
Without hesitation, I surge upward, hooking my arm under his elbow, twisting sharply into an arm bar. For one brief second, I’ve got him! Tension locked perfectly in my grip—
But in less than a breath he effortlessly reverses my hold, spinning me around and pulling my back flush against his chest. His arm bands like steel around my waist, trapping me. I squirm uselessly then scream out in frustration.
“Come on, Mancini,” he chides against my ear. “Anyone could read that move from a mile away.”
“You think you know me so well?” I grunt. He doesn’t respond so I huff, “Yeah I know you too, Quinn. I know you’re no psycho maniac. I bet you don’t even decapitate people.”
“Such a beautiful little liar, my wife,” his warm breath barely touches the skin of my neck, and even though I hate him, my body betrays me.
A violent shiver runs down my spine. Furious at my involuntary reaction, I jam my elbow backward, aiming for his ribs.
Quinn catches my wrist easily, locking my arm tight against my stomach, pulling me even closer into him.
“You fight like you’re in a class,” he growls. “A real enemy won’t take any turns, follow any rules. Won’t show an inch of restraint..”
I twist again, desperately frustrated, but Quinn’s hold tightens until there’s nowhere left to go. He’s hurting me a little and I think he knows it. He’s everywhere—muscle, heat, raw intensity. My breath hitches, betraying me.
“And you? Are you showing restraint?” I say with a crack in my voice because damn it, I am going to be sore from this.
Suddenly, his grip softens, hand spreading against my abdomen, a gentle pressure where his touch was harsh moments ago.
“Fucking miles of it,” he whispers roughly.
We both know he’s not talking about the fight anymore.
“Let me go,” I say, but my voice is breathy and weak.
His hand moves lower, just barely.
I…
I can’t help it.
I expose my neck to him because I want more. My back arches, my insides turn to lava and run directly south.
More more more.
His lips touch my skin, and he hums, lighting up my entire body like a chain of explosives. His hand inches down once more as he says, “Tell me I can trust you.”
“Sure,” I squeak, trying to sound sarcastic but sounding like a pained animal instead.
Quinn chuckles and lets me go.
I’m frozen, actually cold without his heat around me. I’m trying to remember how to breathe, as I hear him leave the mat. I will myself to loosen up, to turn, to say something bitchy. But before I can, he calls back, “Again, tomorrow morning.”
Then I hear the gym door slam shut.
And I stand there looking down at my body wondering…
What the hell is going on?