Chapter 5
Chapter Five
DALTON
Ibarely suppressed my eye roll when the asshole in front of me began to showboat, hopping around on the balls of his feet and lifting his arms in the air to pump the crowd up even more than they already were.
I’d been doing this long enough to know the people who came out wanted a show.
The longer I took to knock out the guys I fought, the more money I’d pull in at the end of the night.
People didn’t want to pay to watch a fight that lasted all of thirty seconds, so I’d let them get in a couple hits every now and then to drag things out.
But it never failed that some shit-for-brains would let a couple good punches go to his head and start dancing around the dirty cement floor that made up our “ring” like he was the next fucking Ali.
I’d given this prick two hits so far—one that made my left cheekbone throb, and another that had opened up my bottom lip—and if he didn’t stop with his dumbass shit, those were all he was going to get. Which was a goddamn shame because I was in need of a good fight.
I’d driven straight to the warehouse after leaving Charlotte in my rearview in the parking lot of Whiskey Dolls, needing to pound on something—and take a bit of a beating myself—in an attempt to alleviate the tension swirling around in my gut.
I’d hoped for a fair fight, but this guy wasn’t giving me a lot to work with.
He swung, trying to land a right hook that I easily dodged before throwing a jab to his stomach.
He hunched over, the wind knocked out of him, and I took the opportunity to drive my fist into his kidney.
I moved back, giving him a chance to catch his breath.
He came back more pissed, which made him even sloppier.
I ducked and danced away from each wild swing easily, landing punches of my own. Blood spurted from his mouth on a particularly nasty uppercut. He hit the ground a second later, knocked the fuck out.
Before the weaselly prick who ran the underground fights had a chance to scurry in and lift my arm, announcing me the winner, I moved out of the circle, pushing my way through the crowd that had gone from wild to completely insane.
As soon as I was clear, I spotted a few familiar faces standing against the wall near the back of the room. Hunter McCann, Trent Montgomery, and Bryce Dixon worked with me at Alpha Omega Investigations.
The fact that every man who worked there was former military meant there was a bond between all of us, a brotherhood that had extended from our time serving our country and beyond, but out of all the men, I was probably closest to Trent.
He knew how I felt about Charlotte, how her getting hurt and nearly dying on my watch had swirled inside my head, fucking me up for a good long while.
Hell, I was still struggling with it months later.
And he knew I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head since that last day in the hospital when she’d pulled away from that goddamn kiss, so pale, her bruised face still pinched from pain even though it had been nearly two weeks since she was attacked, and told me she didn’t want me in her life anymore.
I moved toward them. “How’d you guys know I was here?” I asked as I snatched my shirt off the bench beside them and pulled it on, not giving a damn if the sweat or blood misting across my chest left stains.
“Wasn’t all that hard to piece together,” Hunter replied.
His buddy Bryce spoke next. “When we figured out where you were, we swung by to put some money down.” He grinned and rubbed his palms together. “Had my eye on this badass beer fridge for a while now. Thanks for helpin’ the cause.”
“Glad to be of service. Pay me back by never doing that shit with your hands again. You look creepy as fuck.”
Hunter laughed while Bryce’s disturbing grin fell into a frown. “You just kicked that guy’s ass and cleaned up. Shouldn’t you be in a better mood?”
I looked at him, my expression blank as I asked, “Who says I’m not?”
Bryce’s brows lifted in bewilderment. “Well, your face for one thing.”
Through that whole interaction, Trent watched on silently, his gaze shrewd and calculating, like he was studying me to see if he could read what was going on inside my head. I knew he’d hit pay dirt when he spoke, correctly deducing why I was in such a foul mood.
“You went to the club again tonight, didn’t you?”
Instead of answering, I crossed my arms over my chest and pinned him with a look.
“Fuck, brother.” Hunter let out on a huff. “When’re you gonna stop beating yourself up over what went down? It wasn’t your fault she got hurt.”
I cut my eyes to him, feeling the muscle in my jaw tick.
“Yeah? A person you’re protectin’ ever get shot and nearly killed on your watch?
” His mouth pulled into a tight line, and his silence was all the answer I needed.
“Didn’t think so. That ever happens, then you can come to me, telling me what happened to Charlotte wasn’t my fault. ”
I could see in my friends’ faces that they wanted to keep arguing, but they also knew there was no point.
I wasn’t going to come around to their way of thinking, and there was no goddamn way I was letting myself off the hook.
At least not until I found out why the fuck she’d snuck away from me that day and intentionally went to meet a man who wanted her dead.
“It’s late,” I finally grunted, wanting to put an end to this cozy little scene. “See you at the office tomorrow.”
Without giving any of them a chance to say another word, I turned and started toward the exit, stopping just long enough to get my winnings for the night.
Then, with the thick envelope of cash shoved into my pocket, I hit my truck and took off.
I needed to wash this fucking night off my skin.
Then hopefully I’d be able to sleep without dreaming of Charlotte.
But I wasn’t holding my breath for that.
Charlotte
“I’m not sure about this, Charlotte,” Marin said nervously as she stared through the windshield at the little bungalow she shared with her soon-to-be-ex jackass of a boyfriend. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call someone to help us?”
I twisted the key in the ignition, killing the engine as I looked at her in the passenger seat. “Don’t worry. We’ve got this. Besides, didn’t you say he’d be at work until at least six?” She nodded her head while chewing anxiously on her bottom lip. “Then there’s nothing to worry about.”
Despite the copious amounts of coffee I’d had so far, I still felt like I was running on fumes.
I’d put on a happy face as soon as Marin knocked on my door the night before, and the amount of energy it took to keep up that facade for the hours it took us to stuff our face with junk food and binge a couple movies was exhausting.
However, once we’d called it a night, I hadn’t been able to find sleep.
No matter how badly my body screamed for it, I couldn’t get my mind to shut down.
I’d tossed and turned for hours, thoughts of Dalton invading every single spot in my mind. When I closed my eyes he was all I could see, and the few times I’d managed to doze, I’d been jolted awake only minutes later after dreaming about that kiss we’d shared months back in that hospital room.
But the memory that plagued me the most, making my stomach churn violently every few minutes, was the expression on his face when he’d called me a coward. I hated that look of disappointment and hurt, and I hated myself for being the one who’d put it there.
I’d only managed about two restless hours of sleep by the time the sun came up and Marin stirred awake from her place on my couch where she’d crashed for the night.
It had been a busy morning so far, but we’d managed to get Marin set up in an apartment two floors below mine, swing by the store for boxes and packing tape, and hit up Muffin Top for a much-needed caffeine boost and a couple of the best glazed donuts I’d ever eaten.
Now all that was left was to pack up Marin’s life and move it to her new, much happier home.
“Let’s do this,” I coaxed, “A quick in and out, then you’re home free.”
We climbed from my car, moving around to the trunk to grab the empty boxes, then headed inside. We split the rooms to make things a bit quicker and had made a pretty decent dent when, an hour later, I heard the front door open, followed by a loud, angry voice snarling, “What the fuck is this?”
Dropping the pile of clothes I’d pulled from one of the dresser drawers, I raced out of the bedroom and down the hall, rounding the corner into the living room just as Marin spoke, her voice strong as she declared, “I told you, Frank, I’m done. I’m moving out.”
The man—now known as Frank—curled his top lip back from his teeth in a sinister smile. “And I told you, you aren’t leavin’. Do I need to teach you another lesson?” He grabbed Marin by the arm and gave her a shake so brutal it made her head snap.
I moved fast when I saw my friend clench her teeth in pain as she tried to wrench out of his hold.
“Let her go.”
He kept his fingers in a vise grip around her arm as his attention shot to me. “Mind your own fuckin’ business, bitch. And while you’re at it, why don’t you get the fuck outta my house?”
Marin gave her arm another yank as she declared, “Don’t talk to her like that.”
Frank let out a bark of laughter. “What, you got your friend here, so you’re feelin’ tough? That’s a big goddamn mistake, Marin, and you know it.”
“I’m not gonna say it again,” I gritted in warning. “Let her go.”
He looked back at me, finally taking the time to size me up for the first time since I stepped into the room.
I could tell from his smarmy grin that he thought I wasn’t any kind of real threat, which was exactly what I’d been hoping for.
I’d been underestimated my whole life; it was something I’d gotten really good at using to my advantage.
“You gonna teach me a lesson?” he taunted.
“If I have to.”