After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(53)

This is not the best night to take her to The Lab, but I’m getting antsy about telling her. I have to tell her before someone else does. But who says I have to take her there in order to show her what goes on…what I actually do with my spare time.

“You know what,” I begin. “How about instead of going to The Laboratory tonight, how about we go to your place and I show you what it’s like on my tablet?”

“Okay, I am kinda tired from all of the visiting. Plus, I have a ton of leftovers in the fridge we can eat for lunch and supper later.”

“If you’ll give me a minute to get my stuff, I’ll be right over.”

“Do I at least get to walk you home?” she says with a teasing smile.

I f*cking love that smile. “The visit with your parents did you good.”

We start walking again, heading up the stairs. Slowly.

She grabs the center of my T-shirt and pulls me close. “You do me good.”

“I can do you even better.”

“It is Sunday,” she points out and nips at my bottom lip. “My favorite day of the week with you.”

“Video first,” I say, forcing myself not to give in to her charms and race the rest of the way up the stairs.

Evangeline doesn’t let go until the last moment. “You’re such a tease.”

“Nah. I plan to make good afterward.”

Laughing at her mock glare, I head to my apartment and grab my tablet, then head over to Evangeline’s. She’s left her door open, so I can go right inside, quickly shutting it behind me.

“Bedroom or living room?”

She walks out into the living room wearing nothing but a smile. “Bedroom, for sure.”

I hand her the tablet and start tugging my shirt over my head. “After you.”





Chapter 20


Evangeline


By the time Hunter and I make it into bed, I’m boneless and craving more.

“That’s one,” he says, kissing a path up my back. “Two comes after the video.”

I glance at him over my shoulder. “You are so mean.”

He laughs, running a hand down my bare stomach. “Couldn’t help my reaction to all of this.” Rolling over, he grabs his tablet and I get into a comfortable position to watch it with him.

I don’t know why he wants me to watch the silly video, but if it means that much to him, I will. Although, I’m pretty sure he wants to make sure that watching two guys fight won’t scare me.

“They call that the cage,” he says, pointing to the middle of the screen. “That’s where all the matches take place.”

“Gotcha.”

A man comes out, dressed in only tight blue-and-white shorts. They’re not exactly tiny, but they’re not exactly what you’d see guys wearing to the beach or lake around here.

The crowd boos.

“They have favorites,” he says. The crowd parts before us like the Red Sea as another man makes his way to the cage. His hair is black, cut short, and his body is muscular, but not overly so.

My stomach gets that heavy feeling of dread in it.

“Ramos is favored to win tonight, but the guy he’s up against is not to be underestimated,” an announcer says.

“And he’s a crowd favorite,” another chimes in. “Ladies and Gents, we have a great match for you tonight.”

In the center of the cage, a man wearing a suit grabs the mike that has dropped down from the ceiling. He holds on to it and starts to speak into it, but I can barely make out every other word as the crowd goes nuts.

“Whatever he’s saying, they’re liking,” I muse, taking a peek at Hunter. He’s gone quiet. Only, he’s not looking at the video. I catch him studying me. The unease inside of me grows, so I focus on the tablet again. “I’ll be okay. It’s not like I’ll—”

Hunter swipes his finger across the screen, speeding up the action. “Here’s the part I wanted you to see.”

As if in a dream, I watch as Hunter’s face comes into focus, as it contorts into a murderous rage, as his large fist draws back and hits his opponent, opened fist, upside the face.

The room seems to collapse in on itself as my vision narrows. All I see is Hunter hitting another human being. Hunter playing to the crowd as he gets in a good shot. Blood runs down his opponent’s chest, while Hunter remains unmarked.

“Oh my God,” I croak. I barely register the arms coming around me, warming my chilled skin.

Flesh pounds against flesh, and I fight the urge to puke. Now blood is on Hunter’s face. There’s a gash above his eye and he’s kicking his opponent in the chest.

Ramos goes down like a sack of potatoes.

Hunter pauses the video, but I can’t stop staring at him as he stands over his opponent, his face triumphant.

“That’s really you?”

“Yeah,” he says gruffly.

“All your cuts, your bruises…your black eye?”

He nods. “All from legal fights.”

Like I care that they’re legal. “I…I can’t believe you’ve been lying to me.”

He gives me a pleading look. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to tell you, or how much of an * I felt like for not telling you sooner.”