Down and Out(37)

“Where do you think you’re going?”
He pauses. “To the bathroom?”
“Oh.” I feel like an idiot as I stammer, “Uh, do you need help?”
His dimples are in full-force as his mouth twists into that sexy smirk I’m starting to see more and more. “Unless you want to hold it while I take a leak, I think I’ve got it.”
My face feels like it’s on fire. “You’re an ass.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
He goes to move again, his body tense and slow, and I spot the bottle of painkillers on the nightstand that Blake left. I forgot about those, too.
“Wait.” I crawl on my knees and reach in front of him. Right as my fingers wrap around the orange prescription bottle, my chest brushes his and his hands go to my ribs, practically engulfing me with their size. I hadn’t realized I’m all but sitting in his lap, but here we are, so close that if I move my head an inch to the right, our noses will be touching.
His bright green eyes slip to my mouth, and I know we’re having a “moment.” I’ve never had one with anybody before, not really, and certainly not like this. I don’t know what to do with it.
Swallowing, I lean back and hold the bottle between us, the pills rattling inside. “Blake left these for you.”
He nods, watching my lips move as his hands remain firmly planted on my sides. I reach up, barely grazing the tips of his butterfly bandage over his eyebrow.
“Your eye looks better.” It’s still a nasty shiner, but it’s not swollen shut anymore. The dark purple actually makes his impossibly green eyes more vibrant.
My heart thumps unevenly as he leans in infinitesimally, looking at me like he just wants to devour me, body and soul, until I’m nothing more than a residual pile of boneless, satisfied woman. Declan carries himself with the swagger of someone who knows his way around the female body, and oh boy, does he.
A knock at the front door shoves reality back in my face, and I scramble away from him and off the bed.
Was I seriously about to kiss him? What the hell?
I toss the pills to Declan, who looks as surprised as I feel, and head for the front door.
It swings open and I come face-to-face with the guy I’ve seen sparring with Declan this week, and I finally put two and two together. “Marcus, right?”
He’s a little shorter than Declan, and leaner, but there’s an air about him that gives me chills. I have no doubt he could hold his own in a fight.
Dark brows pull tight over chocolate-brown eyes as he stares at me, looking none too pleased to see me standing in Declan’s doorway. “Yeah.”
I try not to take offense, since it’s not what he probably thinks, and say, “Declan’s back in his room,” as I open the door wider and step aside. The flash of bright sunlight over the parking lot catches my eye, making me panic.
Crap, what time is it?
I look over my shoulder, to the clock on the stove. Shit. The gym should’ve opened two hours ago, and Declan’s in no state to work today.
Looks like I’ll be working a double.





As soon as Savannah darts out of the room to open the front door, I’m wincing as I try to stand. My body’s rejecting the painful movements with every fiber in my being. I’m actually glad she’s not here to see my tortured expression as I slowly and feebly make it onto my feet.
Dark, angry spots might litter my body, but the only bruise that really hurts is the one to my ego.
I don’t want Savannah to see me like this, all beat up and bloody. It makes me look weak. I’m a fighter for Christ’s sake—a damn good one at that—and I got my ass handed to me. I don’t care if there were three of them and a baseball bat. My testosterone-fueled brain equates getting my ass kicked with weakness, and for someone who’s never even so much as lost a fight before, it’s a hard pill to swallow.
Jesus, it hurts to even blink.
If it wasn’t for that damn baseball bat to the gut, I might’ve stood a chance at fighting them off, three guys or not. They weren’t that big and it was pretty obvious they didn’t have proper training. Hell, I might’ve even been able to take the blow to my stomach with a little warning. It’s a matter of tensing your abs and absorbing the hit, exhaling as you bend forward slightly. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still going to hurt like a bitch, but it’ll at least keep the wind from getting knocked out of you.
Marcus appears in the doorway, halting as he sees me. His brows pinch as he looks me over. “The hell happened to you?”
I pop the top off the pill bottle and toss a white, oblong pill back. “Kerrigan’s boys paid me a little visit last night.” I reach for the glass of water on the nightstand and grimace at the way it forces my muscles to stretch. Who the hell decided to make nightstands so goddamn short?
“Motherf*cker.” Marcus slams his palm against the doorframe, his face screwed into something ten shades past livid. I’ve never seen the guy look so lethal.
I take a sip of water, washing down the painkiller. I’m about to set the glass back down when I think better of it. Picking it up killed my ribs, so I’m not about to put it back. I’ll carry this bitch around with me until the meds kick in if I have to.
Marcus pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through it. “No way is that piece of shit getting away with this. When Jimmy hears about this. . .” He shakes his head, laughing darkly. “Kerrigan’s a dead man walking.” Pressing the phone up to his ear, he says to me, “You know Jimmy’s got connections to the mob, right?”