After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(34)

Son of a bitch—the f*cker used another deliberately illegal move. Now it’s no longer about fighting to win the purse, it’s about beating the shit out of this *.

He smirks at me.

I tackle him and send us both crashing to the mat. Quickly forcing him into a submission position, I squeeze my thighs around his midsection. He gets one arm loose and manages to punch me in the back of the head again.

Stars appear.

My rage goes from simmering to furiously boiling over. “What the f*ck’s wrong with you?”

“You arrested my brother after his bitch of a wife called the cops on him.” His words are muffled but I can make them out.

“If I arrested him, then he deserved it.” I don’t remember his brother. It’s possible that he just has a vendetta against cops in general. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Fuck you and your whore of a mother.”

Almost as in a dream, I raise my arm, making it a straight line from the tips of my fingers to my elbow. However, something’s holding me back from giving him a twelve-to-six elbow in the midsection.

“Do it.” Spitting out his mouth guard, he bares his teeth at me. “Do it, you coward.”

It would be so easy to end him. So damn easy. I can arc my trajectory a little to make it completely legal to hit him like this. Sure, I’d probably fracture his ribs, maybe even puncture his lungs, but it would be worth it. So worth it.

My elbow heads his way.

Eyes widening, Caley grabs the fence and attempts to buck me off. At the last minute, I swing my arm downward, landing a blow to his side with my fist.

He groans in pain.

The ref comes to stand over us. “I’ve already warned you twice, Caley. You’re done for the night. Sloan wins by default.”

I unlock my legs from around Caley and stumble to my feet.

A mic is lowered in the middle of the cage as the ref grabs my hand and pulls it up into the air. “Winner,” he shouts.

Fans surge forward, crowding the cage as they celebrate or criticize the ref’s decision.

“Next time, Sloan. Next time.” A couple of guys drag Caley out of the ring and carry him to the locker room facilities on the opposite side of the building.

A wise decision, in my opinion, since I still want to kick his ass.

“We’ll have to develop a different strategy for next time,” Hayden says as he meets me halfway to the locker room. “He has a weak core and possibly a glass jaw.”

“There won’t be a next time.” I hold up my hands.

Hayden cuts the tape away, then tosses it into the trash. “You didn’t win that fight because you were such a badass tonight. You won by default. There will be a rematch.”

My body protests as I fumble with my locker. Muscles I didn’t know I have ache. “There might be a rematch, but not anytime soon. I’m getting too old for this.”

“Twenty-eight is practically ancient,” Hayden agrees. “Better pick out your assisted-living home.”

“You’re twenty-eight.”

“I’m in my prime.”

I sit on a bench while Nora examines me and cleans me up. “You did a good job out there.”

“Tell that to my manager.” I glare at Hayden.

Nora glances at him, then back at me, and changes the subject. “How are things going?”

I know what she’s asking. “Better than expected.”

“Damn,” she mutters, then laughs. “I was hoping that I’d be the one to help you get over her.”

“Appreciate it, but we’re good.”

Hayden joins us. “Look like shit, though.”

“Feel like it, too.”

Nora finishes her examination. “There’s a small bump on the back of your head. If you were planning on celebrating with a drink, I’d advise you to go home and rest instead.”

“Then that’s what he’ll do.” Hayden grabs my shoulder and squeezes it lightly. “Dwight and I can catch you another time—unless you need one of us to drive you home.”

“I’ll manage.” Sometimes, it feels odd to have them worry over me like they do. Whenever my dad would get tired of beating up on my mom, he’d start in on me, slapping me around for not bringing his beer fast enough. Or for supposedly losing the remote. The only person who worried about me was my mom, but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it.

Until the day she finally made sure he wouldn’t hit either of us ever again.





Chapter 12


Evangeline


“Want to come over for pizza?” I ask, then make a face at myself in the mirror. “I sound like a deranged chipmunk.”

Saylor all but cackles at me from her spot on the sofa. She’s flipping through an issue of People and every so often she’ll read about some celebrity doing something stupid. In a weak moment, I invited her over for dinner. Okay, so it wasn’t a weak moment but rather my attempt at an apology and to make a friend.

“You’re trying too hard. Be natural,” she advises.

I puff out my cheeks and make my voice unusually high. “This isn’t natural?”

“Only if you plan to date a guy who works in a helium balloon factory.” The serious look on her face gives me pause, but then I catch the twinkle in her eye. Saylor is very good at making people believe she’s batty.