Uppercut Princess (The Heights Crew #1)(21)

I lick my lips. I loathe to admit it, but he’s right. Rocket’s made a public declaration. To go against it, is to go against him and the Heights Crew.

I can’t afford to do that.

Brawler swallows, taking one last look at me and then spins to walk away, jaw tight. A minute later, a shower kicks on somewhere in the back of the locker room.

This isn’t the way I wanted to buddy up to the Heights Crew, but I won’t turn it down. I can’t. In fact, this could give me easier access to Johnny’s dad, and that’s all I want.

I can practically feel my fingers on the trigger now.





8





I scrub my skin until it's raw. Not because I want to make sure I look good for Johnny Rocket, but because I’m procrastinating getting out of the shower. Once I get out, I have to play the game. I have to pretend I’m all about the guy who shares DNA with the fucker I hate most in this world. Just because I know I have to do this doesn’t mean I want to. I grip the side of the shower while my stomach heaves. There’s nothing in it. I can’t eat before a fight. I learned that the hard way after puking all over the clothes I was due to wear in my first match a couple of years ago. Now, though, I grit my teeth, waiting for the feeling to pass.

“Princess, I didn’t take you for someone who spends hours in the shower.”

I close my eyes and swallow. “I didn’t take you for someone who stands outside creeping on a girl while she’s in the shower.”

Brawler’s silent for a few moments. He’s not that guy. Not at all. He’s just doing as he’s told. He stepped out of the room while I undressed, and for the majority of the time I’ve been in here, he’s been outside, but I must be taking too long. Rocket’s probably getting antsy.

I reach down to shut the water off. While I squeeze the excess water out of my hair, Brawler says, “There're clothes out here for you. Rocket sent them.”

I snap the curtain open so just my head peeks out. “Are you serious?”

Brawler immediately averts his gaze. “He thought you’d look good in them.” He takes a deep breath, his muscles taut like he’s ready to spring. He motions with his hand to a stool that’s been placed by the shower. “There’s a towel for you there, too. I’ll wait for you outside.”

He slips through the door, leaving me by myself. Every time I’m around Brawler, he surprises me. Averting his gaze like I’m a virgin maiden. Helping me ready myself for Rocket, when he certainly could’ve—and should’ve—ordered someone else to do it, so he could focus on the fights happening out there. That’s not to mention the conflicting emotions in his gaze or the way he held me protectively for a brief second the instant after Rocket claimed me. Like he didn’t want to give me up to him.

Then again, I could’ve been on a fight high and misinterpreted everything.

The towel is surprisingly lush as I dry myself off and pull on the clothes Rocket thinks I would look good in. To my utter surprise and dismay, they fit. Like a glove. There’s no bra or underwear, but with how tight the clothes are, I don’t think I’d want to be wearing those pieces anyway. The shirt has an open back that ties around the neck. Extra material drapes over my chest, giving it a flouncy look but the rest is skintight. It looks like something Cherry or Nevaeh would wear, so I guess this is exactly what I should be wearing now that Rocket owns me—or thinks he does.

The excitement of the fight still flows through me as I comb my fingers through my wet hair to get rid of the tangles. When I finally pull the door open, Brawler’s there, leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting for me for a while. “Where do you train?” I ask him. Now that my secret’s out, I need to jump back into the gym life. I started boxing and martial arts at the suggestion of a shrink who thought it would be a great way to release my aggression. Soon after, I started taking it seriously, so I could carry out my vengeance plan one day. From the second I stepped into the gym, I loved it like nothing else. Nothing calms me more than hitting pads or feeling the satisfying thwack of my fists against something hard.

“Excuse me?” Brawler asks, his eyebrows inching up his forehead.

“Train? You know, for fighting. You must train somewhere. You don’t expect me to think you just someday woke up with those muscles, do you?”

His lips thin, and his gaze narrows as he takes me in. He stops at my shoulders like he wants to graze my entire body but doesn’t dare. “When I was a kid, my brother taught me. He took lessons when we were little, but he learned most of it on the street. After him, I trained by myself.”

I try not to show the surprise I feel. I didn’t know Brawler had a brother. “Do you ever fight here?”

He laughs. “All the time.”

“Are you fighting tonight?”

He shakes his head. “No, just running it tonight. Or supposed to be. Now, I’m babysitting you.”

My hackles rise. “I don’t need to be babysat.”

A smirk crosses his lips. “You’re going to long for the days when you were just Nevaeh’s punching bag, Princess.”

“Stop calling me that,” I grind out, instead of focusing on what I should be. What does he mean I’ll want to be Nevaeh’s bitch again? Just how bad is Rocket?