After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(6)

“You—you…arg!” I can’t say anything to that. I don’t know why I’ve engaged in conversation this long with him as it is. “Stay on your side of the street, Hunter.”

A slow grin appears on his face. It’s both sexy and infuriating. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a little growl, I check both ways before storming across the street.

“You forgot to look right again,” he calls out. “That’s not very safe, angel.”

“I got your angel.” I flip him off, uncaring who sees me. Uncaring that he’s a cop who could probably find a reason to arrest me for being a jerk to him.

His laughter follows me almost all the way back home.





Chapter 3


Hunter


I head in to work that afternoon with Evangeline on my mind. Once she stormed off, I didn’t see her again. Not that I expected to, but her car didn’t move all day. There was no movement within her apartment, either. To be fair, we don’t share a wall, and besides that, our apartments have thick-ass walls with extra insulation between them so that they’re extremely energy efficient and keep our electric bill down.

Keeping my bills down is what spoke to me the most when I decided on moving to Rose Haven. The name reminds me of an old folks’ home, but the manager of the place insisted it was named for the large rose garden in the back.

Regardless of the lower utility bills or the name of the place, I screwed up this morning by touching that beautiful woman. Pure panic had entered her gaze a beat before she ordered me to not touch her.

I won’t make that mistake again.

Besides, I’d rather have her telling me off. Or even better, flipping me off. That show of sass was damn hot. Almost as hot as when I caught her staring at me. Again.

Earlier, I thought she was staring to show me she wasn’t frightened or intimidated by me. But now I know she likes what she sees.

Not that it will do me any good.

“Sloan, Holcomb, get in here,” the captain calls from his office.

Dwight shoots me a look and I shake my head in response. “Looks like it’s going to be one of those nights,” my partner says as we make our way to the captain’s office.

“Shut the door behind you,” he says as we walk inside.

Yeah, it’s really going to be one of those nights.

—

When I was a kid, my father liked to take me to underground fight clubs. He liked to put me in the ring with guys who were twice my size. I was a scrapper, he’d say with pride. Of course, he never went into the ring, preferring to beat up on my mom and me when we pissed him off for breathing or some shit like that. I used to hope and pray that he’d go into the ring, that he’d start taking his first-world problems out on men his own size, but that never happened. That kind of thing never does.

Back then, underground fighting was strictly illegal. But now…

I dodge a left hook and nail my opponent in the face with a quick jab.

Now it’s popular. A thing, if you will.

He gets me with a sharp blow to the side of the head, and I see stars. The crowd boos and hisses as the stars fade away. Apparently, I’m the popular one tonight.

Shaking off the pain and dizziness, I dig in deep to finish off this punk.

Dude’s got a long reach, but mine’s longer. I pull back my left arm and let it fly, clipping him square in the chin. He goes down like a ton of bricks, landing on his side. Blood flies from his mouth, spattering on the floor in a grotesque half halo.

The ref grabs my hand, yanking my arm in the air while I suck in all the oxygen I can get. Blood and sweat run down my body, my side hurts like a son of a bitch, and I think I broke one of my toes.

All in all, not a bad night.

“Winner by KO.”

The crowd goes wild. They like the show, the blood, and they like a quick fight even more. I blame it on social media, really. Most people have an attention span the size of a gnat.

The ref lets go of me and Hayden comes out onto the floor. He’s kind of like my manager and takes care of the business end of things. Either way, trying to work out a schedule that is good for both our jobs is a bitch. We make it work and I give him twenty-five percent of the purse.

“You killed it tonight.” He hands over a bottle of water and I drink most of it up before we’re out of the cage.

I glance over my shoulder at my opponent, who is being dragged across the floor by his manager and an assistant. He lifts his head, pinning me with a snarl.

“Better watch that one. He’ll be back and he’ll want revenge. He’s not just here for the purse,” Hayden warns.

“What a surprise.” You can always tell when fighters are here because they like the violence of it. They love the blood and bruises. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no f*cking angel, but I don’t revel in the gruesome. Fighting like this is a way to make sure I never become my dad. I hit on guys who pay entry fees and willingly step into the cage.

My chest heaves as I make my way to the locker room in the back.

“Think I broke a toe,” I say as we step inside.

Hayden sucks in air through his teeth. “Hope not. That’s a bitch to heal.”

The door shuts behind us and the noise of the crowd dims. Endorphins that had flooded my body during the fight are almost gone, and the pain that I could barely feel before is steadily rising to son-of-a-bitch levels.