Chapter 3
M alachi
Outside the skeleton crew’s headquarters, I pulled up in my all-black 4X4 and leapt down, landing heavily on the tarmac with a thud. My eye was still swollen from last night’s fight, but at no point had I considered calling off my appointment.
Fuck no. I needed this. I wanted it more than I understood.
A hefty security guard met me at the door. “Name?”
I raised my split eyebrow. “Take a guess.”
He didn’t budge. “No name, no call down to the boss.”
I held in annoyance. “Malachi Hunan.”
He appraised me then let me inside, retreating to the desk where he made a call to someone. He came back to me. “Nice fight on Friday, Warrior.”
I propped up the wall and ignored him.
I never used to be an arrogant fuck, but I’d cultivated it like armour. Just like I’d learned to defend myself from those who would’ve done me harm as a lad.
The inner door opened, and another man appeared, this guy with a skeleton bandanna tied around his lower face. Instantly, I stood to my full six-five height.
He jerked his head. “Hunan, follow me.”
We travelled up a set of steps and through a darkened corridor, the faint scent reaching me of alcohol, cleaning products, and whatever fucking chemicals made the smoke they used in their nightclub. I’d been there once or twice, and in the strip club, though women taking their clothes off for money did nothing for me.
I’d visited because I’d heard the rumours about this place. About Arran Daniels who owned the building and operated the game that had caught my attention. Fuck, even imagining chasing down and claiming a woman had the side effect of making me hard. I needed to know everything.
We arrived at the closed door of an office. From the shelf, my escort handed me an iPad and a stylus.
“Read that while you wait. At the end of your meeting, sign it if you still want in.”
I squinted at the legal terms I’d never be able to work out. “Can’t I go in now?”
“Someone else is already being interviewed. Your turn after they’ve left.”
He stepped back and took a watchman’s position. I glared down the office door. Though I didn’t know the finer details of the game, what I’d heard had primed me. I’d be in competition with a big group of men. I’d have to fight to make my claim.
I’d win a lass who had every chance of being as obsessed with me as I’d let myself be with her.
So long as no one else got in my way.
Adrenaline bristled through me. One-on-one in a ring, I could take a man down in a single round. But in a mass brawl, I’d have to go out swinging. I’d need to use every bit of strength and cunning I possessed. Including intimidating them before the game even began.
Once the door ahead of me opened, I’d get first sight of one of my competitors.
And he’d see me.
Under my very gaze, the handle twisted. The door swung inwards. My muscles bunched, and my heart pounded, readying me to lay it on thick.
But it was a woman who appeared in the frame. Tall and elegant, she had a phone clutched to her ear and auburn hair up in a tidy bun that I immediately wanted to mess up. I catalogued her features. Slender legs and a tight waist. Her arms were bare of tattoos and her pencil skirt and white blouse pristine. No piercings. Barely any make-up. Shy-looking. A world away from the type of woman I was usually around in my arena of fights and training.
A goddamned angel.
Still talking to whoever else was inside, she said in a panicked rush, “So sorry. This is such bad timing. I’m on call for emergencies and I have to get back to the hospital.”
Fuck, her voice was soft. It shot lust to my dick as if she’d slid one of her hands around it.
“We can continue the appointment over the phone,” a man inside replied.
She gave a hasty nod then turned.
Our gazes collided.
A sucker punch of attraction almost floored me. If it did the same to her, she didn’t wait around to say. With a hitched breath and a flurry of heel clicks, my angel was gone.
“Mr Hunan, come on in,” the voice inside ordered me.
For a beat, I stared in the direction the lass had gone, inundated with the strongest urge to chase her down here and now. My dick begged me to move. My brain told me I’d be arrested if I tried.
Interesting which one I chose to listen to.
“One minute,” I said and set out after the woman.
I caught up as she left the warehouse at the back reception, her polite murmur to the guy holding the door for her music to my ears.
That voice would feature in my dirty dreams.
She didn’t notice me track her to the exit, or barging the doorman out of the way so I could watch her retreat to a little blue car in her hurry. I snapped a picture of her. Another of the licence plate. She still didn’t look up in her hurry to get to the emergency that summoned her.
No worries. I’d see her later.
She sped away, one of her tyres squealing on the road, and reluctantly, I forced myself inside the building and to my interview.
The red-brick office was sparse, with filing cabinets, a wide black desk, and a spotlight on me so I could barely see the interviewer. Only that he wore the same mask as my escort had.
I reached out a long arm and tapped the lamp down so it didn’t shine in my eyes. Fucking intimidation technique could kiss my ass.
“Who was the woman?” I asked.
The man tilted his head. I had my share of inkwork, but he was a walking tattoo parlour with designs down his arms and even on the backs of his hands.
“I’m not at liberty to identify a client.”
Holy fuck. She was a contestant then. My mind replayed her words. Something about a hospital and an emergency. Was she some kind of medic? That would make my angel whip-smart to go with a knockout face and killer body.
Just as quickly as my interest arose, I locked it down. One of my greatest assets in a fight was my ability to create a strategy and telegraph none of it. My opponents never knew my next move. She hadn’t anticipated me. This asshole wouldn’t either.
I’d sign up for their game. I’d write my signature against any terms and conditions they wanted.
I was going to get that woman if it fucking killed me.