Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)(3)

“Ugh,” one of them mumbled. “You’re Till’s little brother.”

“Yeah. But don’t let that stop you. Come on. Get moving. The sooner you get in there and rat me out, the sooner I can get the hell out of here.”

“I heard you were only ten,” the other piped up.

“And?” Quarry asked rudely.

Ten? Holy crap!

He was huge. He definitely didn’t look like any of the boys I went to school with. However, he didn’t exactly act like them, either. I’d known this kid for less than five minutes and I had already heard him say at least ten cuss words. I might have dropped a “damn” or “hell” under my breath every now and again, but Quarry cussed like the words had been custom-made for his tongue.

“Now, go on. Get the hell out of here.” He took a menacing step toward them, which made them both flinch.

Quarry might have wanted to get kicked out of the youth program, but that was the very last thing I wanted.

If I planned on seeing this mysterious foul-mouthed kid again—and I definitely wanted to see him again—the gym was our only connection.

After dramatically clearing my throat, I announced, “My dad is Leo James. You might want to keep your mouth shut. If I tell him you messed with me, I’m not sure either of you would survive.” I shrugged as if I hadn’t threatened their lives.

I absolutely had.

They let out suffering groans, knowing they were in deep trouble. Of course they knew who my dad was. As the head of security for Slate Andrews, celebrity boxer and owner of On The Ropes boxing gym, my dad was a fixture at the gym. And, judging by their ghostly faces, they also knew he would have strung them up by their fingernails if he caught wind of what they had done. The best part was that he’d never believe what I’d done to them in return.

I was an angel in his eyes. I worked hard to keep that appearance up as much as possible; it was the only way to get away with all the stuff I really did. His wife, my adoptive mother, was the only one who knew the real me. And I adored her for keeping it our little secret.

“Okay. Leave her out of it, but get in there and tattle on me. Make sure you make it sound good when you tell them how I choked you out for no reason. Toss in that you think I’m crazy! I’m counting on you two dumbasses to really sell this shit.”

I cut my eyes back to the boys. “You say a single word about him and I’ll tell my dad that you hurt my back on the wall.”

They both grumbled.

Offended, Quarry shot back at me, “Hey! What the hell did I do to you? I’m trying to get kicked out of here.”

I smiled. “I know, but then we wouldn’t be able to hang out again.”

“Slow down there. You’re pretty and all, but if hanging out with you means cleaning the toilets as part of my required chores for being in the program? Thanks, but no f*cking thanks.”

My heart sped. He thought I was pretty! Well, I mean, I knew I was, but I’d never cared if a boy thought I was before.

However, suddenly, I didn’t care about anything else.

I tapped on my chin, trying to figure out how to fix this. Cleaning the toilets did sound like it would suck.

“Okay. How about this…” I looked back at the losers watching our exchange. “I won’t tell my dad, but you two have to take Quarry’s bathroom shifts for the next six months.”

“No way!” they shouted in unison.

Fisting my hands on my hips, I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Daddy!”

“Wait!” They jumped in my direction, halting when Quarry protectively stepped in front of me.

“Six months or I swear I’ll tell him.” I stepped around Quarry.

“This is so not fair. You were the one who got all crazy.”

The boy stomped his foot just as my father’s massive frame appeared in the doorway.

“Liv? ?Todo bien?” (Everything okay?) he asked as his eyes flashed accusingly around the group.

“Well…” I started, holding the boy’s gaze in question.

“Deal,” he mumbled under his breath.

Quarry barked out a laugh, and I smiled at my victory, innocently batting my eyelashes.

“?Me preguntaba si mis amigos podrían ir helado con nosotros?” (I was wondering if my new friends could come get ice cream with us?)

“Oh, baby. The boys have work to do.” He arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that right, guys?”

“Yes sir,” was echoed by everyone but Quarry—he was staring down at the ground, kicking rocks. One dimple revealed his hidden smile.

My dad collected my iPad and my earphones off the ground then extended his hand toward me. “See? Now, come on. You can read in Slate’s office while I finish up.”

I skipped over, intertwining my tiny fingers with his. “Okay. Maybe next time?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” His eyes once again lifted to the boys. “We need to find you some girls to hang out with.”

He guided me inside the gym, but just before the door closed, I peeked over my shoulder.

“Later, Quarry.”

His eyes lifted, and a wide grin covered his gorgeous face. “Later, Liv.”

For the following months, I used every possible excuse to travel with my father from where we lived in Chicago to On The Ropes in Indianapolis.