Chapter 5 #2
The smirk he offers me makes me wish I were standing in the ring with him right now. I would wipe that right off his face before he even had a chance to get his guard up. “That’s where I learned about this place. From your bartender…”
“Oh, cool!” Atlas swipes away sweat from his face with his forearm. “I’m really glad you stopped by.”
“Don’t tell me you’re done?” Gage asks the question playfully. “You could push at least one more round.”
Atlas shakes his head. “Nah, but I have to save some for her.” He tilts his head toward me. “And trust me, she’s worse in the ring than you. A total hellcat.”
Gage’s lips twitch as he fights a grin. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
Astrid laughs. “Did you know that on top of being a killer on the canvas, she also has a black belt in Jiu-Jitsu?”
What the hell is she doing?
The look she gives me tells me I should be thanking her for talking me up, but all I want is for her to shut her mouth and stop acting like she wants us to make a love connection.
Gage bites at the Velcro on his gloves and rips it off—one then the other. “Again, that doesn’t surprise me.”
It may not surprise him, but the fact that he’s here at all sure as hell surprises the fuck out of me. This man somehow got into what should have been an air-tight secure event and now just waltzed into the gym where Atlas trains and talked his way into the ring with him.
Who the fuck does that?
This man, apparently.
He definitely has an agenda that I can’t figure out.
I follow him from outside the ring as he walks around to the other side where his bag rests on one of the benches. Astrid leans in to talk to Atlas about something, and Gage climbs through the ropes and hops down, holding out his gloved hands to me.
“A little help?”
I scowl at him because he is perfectly capable of removing them himself now that he got the Velcro off.
They hang out in the air between us for a few seconds before he leans in. “They’re going to think you’re rude if you don’t help me.”
Casting a quick glance toward the twins, who are, in fact, scoping us out while they talk, I tug them free a little too forcefully. “You know there’s a word for what you’re doing, Gage.”
His brows rise innocently, but there’s absolutely nothing innocent about his grin. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“Stalking.”
* * *
GAGE
“Stalking?”
My bark of laughter carries through the gym, and Atlas and his sister’s heads whip our direction, their attempt to sneak peeks at us while pretending not to be interested in our conversation completely blown.
Astrid gives me a little half-grin, then returns to talking to her brother while keeping an eye on us in her peripheral vision.
She definitely heard Bishop’s accusation and finds it as amusing as I do.
But the woman in front of me doesn’t find it funny in the least.
Bishop stands with her arms crossed over her chest doing her best to look intimidating—and knowing what she’s capable of, she should be—but it will take a lot more than that to scare me off.
Especially when I’m certain she feels whatever this is too.
It would be impossible not to.
The strange buzz of electricity that crackles between us whenever we’re together is a physical manifestation of what I’ve been feeling inside since that first night at the club.
And how she’s acting now feels more like a defense mechanism than actual anger at seeing me again.
She may not fully trust me, but she’s also attracted to me.
That pisses her the fuck off.
Giving her my most innocent smile, I shake my head. “I’m not stalking you, Bishop.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I tug off my helmet, tossing it into my bag before leaning in toward her slightly, not even caring that I am dripping with sweat. “If I were stalking you, you would never know it.”
Instead of being shook or frightened by my half-joking statement, Bishop stands her ground yet again and merely raises a dark brow. “Pretty confident in yourself, aren’t you?”
You have no idea…
Confidence has never been my problem.
Mine lies in my self-control—or lack thereof. Standing here right now being a prime example of that.
Each time I see her, I promise myself it will be the last, yet I can barely make it a week without finding an excuse to be in her orbit.
I shrug as I turn away to dig in my bag and grab a towel to wipe off the sweat trickling across my brow and down my chest. Bishop’s gaze follows the movement, her eyes tracing over the ink covering my pecs, stomach, and arms, taking in every dot of it with rapt attention until they finally fall to where the V of my abs disappears into my boxing shorts.
“My eyes are up here, Hellcat.”
Her head whips up, her eyes narrowing and flashing with that fierce anger I’ve seen before and somehow crave. “What’d you call me?”
I smirk at her. “You heard me.”
She scowls, pointing a finger squarely in my chest. “You don’t get to call me that.” Her finger whips toward Atlas. “He barely gets to call me that while keeping his head. You sure as hell won’t.”
Chuckling, I retreat a step, instantly missing the feel of her skin against mine—even if it was only one fingertip.
I snag my T-shirt and tug it on over my head. “You are a feisty one, aren’t you?”
Her hackles only seem to rise more at my observation, but I don’t mean it in a bad or condescending way.
Far from it.
Bishop’s fire and the way she’s constantly throwing everything back at me only makes this little game of ours more fun. I push and she pushes back harder. It’s nearly impossible to walk away from the enjoyment it brings me, even if it does drag danger along with it.
I run my hand through my sweat-soaked hair. “If you want me to stop coming to the club, or here to work out, all you have to do is ask and I will.”
The twist of her perfect lips tells me she doesn’t believe me. “That easy, huh?”
I throw my bag over my shoulder and nod. “That easy.”
While flirting with Bishop has become a favorite pastime, I also know it would be far better for both of us if I stayed away.
Her asking me to do just that would make it a much easier proposition.
Because as it stands now, I keep drifting toward this woman despite the current of sanity flowing in the opposite direction.
Her gaze shifts over to where Astrid and Atlas are watching us intently. She inclines her head toward the ring. “He any good?”
Atlas leans on the ropes and laughs. “I’m kind of terrified to answer that question.”
“Why?”
He scoffs. “Because I’m afraid you’ll kick my ass if I tell you yes.”
She scowls at him, then turns back to me. “I won’t keep you from coming to train with my cousin, because this is his career. I don’t interfere with that. But…”
I knew there was a but coming…
“But what?”
There are so many things she could ask of me, that she could demand, and most of them, I would probably do without even thinking about it.
She releases a little sigh, averting her gaze and shifting on her feet as if whatever she is refusing to say makes her uncomfortable in a way I haven’t seen her yet. “Just…”—she throws up a hand dismissively—“never mind.”
Whatever she was about to demand still sits on the tip of her tongue, and she shifts uneasily, wincing, as if holding it back physically hurts her.
I lean in, disregarding the fact that I stink from the workout and the twins are still watching us. Because something tells me she won’t say it when they might hear. “But what, Bishop?”
“Just…”—she glances toward me, then away again—“stop looking at me like that.”
There it is.
Heat flares through my blood, my cock stirring to attention with the admission underlying her words. That the way I look at her is actually getting under her skin.
“Like what?”
Bishop presses her lips together firmly, her hands fisting at her sides. If steam could shoot out of someone’s ears like it does in the old cartoons, it would be from hers right now.
She hates that she admitted it. Despises the fact that she’s given me anything that might spur me on. But the longer we stare at each other, the longer I wait for her response, the more confident I become that she is going to break.
When it finally comes, it’s because she glances over at Astrid and Atlas and realizes they’re watching us and she has to do something.
With a huff, she leans closer so they won’t hear. “Like you want me to pin you again.”
I can’t help the smirk that pulls at my lips. “That I can’t promise you. I told you I’m a bad liar.” And I would most certainly be lying if I said I was going to stop looking at her like that, or that I don’t still mean my offer. I wink at her again. “See ya around.”
She watches me walk over to Atlas and Astrid but doesn’t make any move to follow.
I hold out my fist to bump with Atlas.
He grins at me. “Thanks, man. That was a great workout this morning.”
“Anytime. You have my n0 now. Give me a call and we can set up a schedule.”
Being the same weight class as Atlas means that we can actually spar in a way that he can’t with people in his family.
Based on what he told me before we started in the ring, the Hawkes have a long history with the sport and have all spent time in here at some point.
But none of them give him the type of competition he needs—save for Bishop.
This is the perfect opportunity to get in a good workout and work out some of my frustrations.
Hopefully often.
Though, the main source of one of them stands staring at me and watching me carefully from the other side of the gym right now, so maybe not.
Astrid smiles, leaning against the side of the ring. “It was nice to meet you, Gage.”
“You, too.”
Shifting a little closer to me, she drops her voice so only Atlas and I can hear. “Can I ask…what’s with you and Bishop?”
I raise a brow, pretending not to know what the hell she’s talking about when it would be clear to anyone in the same room with us that there’s tension. A lot of it. “What do you mean?”
She laughs lightly. “Come on now. I’ve known that woman my entire life, and she has been rattled ever since the moment she walked in here and saw you, so spill.”
Rattled.
It’s a good word to describe it, but I want Bishop more than just rattled.
I want her to give in to this attraction. Allow this tension to pull her to me. I want her to want to pin me again, in a very different setting.
Not that I would tell her cousin any of that.
“We had a little run-in at the club the other day, and I don’t think she liked it very much.”
One of Astrid’s blond brows rises. “Why is that?”
“Because I stepped in to help one of the girls.”
They both wince and Astrid nods. “Yeah, I could see how that wouldn’t sit well with her. She’s under the impression that it’s her sole responsibility to ensure everyone with the name Hawke on this planet remains safe.”
I nod. “I kind of gathered that.”
Atlas reaches up and rubs at the massive scar on his shoulder from when he was shot. The newspaper articles and news broadcasts gave a lot of details of the attack, enough to know that Astrid almost died from her wounds, too.
I can only imagine how Bishop must have felt after that…
“Was she with you guys when…”—I incline my head toward his hand, and it freezes—“that happened?”
Astrid’s back stiffens, and the color fades from her face as she clears her throat and glances away. She shifts on her feet, pressing her hand over her abdomen as if she can still feel the wound there.
Clearly uncomfortable discussing the shooting, she keeps her gaze diverted on anything but me, which is completely reasonable considering I’m a stranger and it was likely the most traumatic event in her life.
Atlas shakes his head. “She was downstairs in the building lobby and chased after the gunman but couldn’t find him.”
“That must have been very frustrating for her.”
He nods, his hand falling away from his shoulder. “You have no fucking idea.”
I think I do.
It’s clear Bishop has a sole focus. One thing she allows herself to think about day in and day out. And that’s her responsibility and her role in the Hawke family.
Her protective instinct is so ingrained that she doesn’t know how to turn it off, doesn’t know how to stop worrying, even now.
She doesn’t trust me and is running through all the potential reasons I would have to be here, all the ulterior motives. Making a threat assessment and planning what action she would need to take to secure them if she needed to.
That shouldn’t be so fucking hot.
It should be a warning to put as much space between us as possible.
But just like a moth drawn to the flame, her fire and spark light up my world in a way that prevents me from doing anything but walk straight into the conflagration. Damn the consequences.
Even now, I have to force myself to keep my focus on Astrid and Atlas and not allow my eyes to drift over to her. “Well, thanks again, guys.”
Atlas grins. “I’ll call you. We’ll do it again soon.”
“Perfect.”
Because something tells me I’m going to be needing that kind of release and relief from the conflict raging in my head and heart.
With my bag slung over my shoulder, I move toward the front door and the rain outside that’s finally starting to let up.
And it’s getting harder and harder to do without looking back at her.