Caged (Mastered, #4)(78)

The menu boasted fabulous food. She settled on the gorgonzola-and-pine-nut-encrusted tenderloin, with a side of lemon-finished asparagus. Deacon didn’t deviate from his training diet of lean protein and vegetables.

After the waiter departed, an uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Molly wished they had the noise and conversations from other diners as a distraction.

Deacon reached for her hand underneath the table. “So, Tag, what brings you to Denver?”

“Short answer? I need to talk to you face-to-face. We’ll have a breakfast meeting in the morning to discuss the particulars.” He smiled. “I wanted to enjoy a leisurely meal with you and your lady tonight.”

“You assume a lot.”

Tag shook his head. “You’ve known this was coming for months.”

Molly hated cryptic conversations. If they had business to discuss—which was none of her business—Tag shouldn’t have invited her. “Deacon hasn’t told me much about you, Tag.”

“That’s where we have a commonality; I was shocked—and delighted, of course—to hear my cousin has a girlfriend. So how about you tell me all about yourself?”

“That will kill two minutes of the evening.”

Tag laughed. “Indulge me.”

Molly gave him the basics.

“How did you meet Deacon?”

“I started with a self-defense class at Black Arts and moved on to kickboxing, which Yondan teaches. He tortured me endlessly.”

“So you’re a masochist to his sadist?” Tag mused.

“Something like that.”

Deacon squeezed her knee.

“You’ve seen him fight?”

“Twice. I haven’t decided if I can stomach seeing him exchanging blows with his opponent next month.”

Deacon looked at her crossly. “Fine time to spring that on me, babe.”

Molly shrugged. “It’s not the same thing to see my instructor fighting as it is to see my boyfriend in a cage with a guy who’s determined to cause him maximum physical damage. And it shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”


“Why’s that?”

“Ronin never let Amery see him fight. And Knox had to leave when Shiori fought.” She sipped her cocktail. “Dealing with the aftermath of injuries is hard enough without seeing how those injuries were received.”

“It ain’t a picnic to get hammered on and after the fight is done to realize there’s no one in your corner. So you will be there.”

That caused a pang of guilt and hurt her heart a little.

“Even if Molly can’t be there, your dad will be,” Tag said diplomatically.

“I didn’t know anyone in your family came to your fights. Have they ever come to the after-party?”

He snorted. “My dad is the only one who comes to anything. But the smokers don’t count. Real fights, like the one next month, he’ll show up. Look for the white-knuckled man in the back row.”

“Maybe I’ll sit back there too. We can hold hands.”

Deacon leaned over and brushed his lips across her cheek. “I’d like that.”

She lowered her eyes, basking in her man’s sweetness.

When Molly looked up, she noticed Tag watching them with undisguised interest. “Now it’s your turn, Tag. How did you get your name? Was it confusing when you were a kid to hear, Tag, you’re it.”

Tag let out an amused laugh. “Damn, Deacon. If I lived in Denver, I’d be pulling out all stops to lure this woman away from you.”

“Be wise of you not to throw fightin’ words at a fighter, cuz.”

“My first name is Taggart,” he said, ignoring Deacon’s snarling response. “It was my mother’s maiden name. Only time anyone used it was after I’d gotten in trouble.”

“Which he’ll now loudly proclaim was rarely,” Deacon tossed out.

Their ribbing seemed good-natured and not pure meanness like her cousins’ constant barbs.

The salad course arrived and they dug in.

After Deacon finished his beer, he switched to water. “Does Clive know you’re here?”

“No. He’d have to show his rat face at the office more than twice a week to know anything.”

“It’s not goin’ any better with him?”

“Worse, actually. It was goddamn blackmail that our fathers agreed to give him a position in the company.”

Blackmail sounded harsh.

“They could’ve said no. Instead they both bent over for Aunt Suzette just like she wanted.”

Tag’s posture went rigid. “Now we’ve got a chance to kick his worthless ass to the curb and cut him out, if you’d just—”

“We’re not discussing this shit tonight, Tag, so f*ckin’ drop it. Keep it up and we won’t be discussing nothin’ tomorrow neither.”

Molly tugged her fingers out of Deacon’s death grip. As she debated on whether to excuse herself and head to the ladies’ room, the door opened and the food arrived.

Every bite lived up to the hype. She moaned when the first bite of tender steak and sharp cheese hit her taste buds.

Tag’s phone rang and he excused himself from the room.

The second the door closed, Deacon placed a hot kiss on the side of her neck. “Word of advice.”