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I shifted on the balls of my feet, bouncing from side to side. Then in one fast movement, I connected a sidekick to my sparring partner’s stomach.
“Again,” my partner encouraged, pounding his fists together, the leather of his gloves making a bright, snapping noise.
I obliged and caught him off guard with my left hook, my fist striking hard against the side of his helmet. Perhaps I should have worn one, too.
I’d been training nonstop for two weeks. I hadn’t been in the office, taken any calls . . . and I hadn’t seen Anna.
Not since the elevator.
But I couldn’t get her off my damn mind. And the more I tried not to think about her, the more I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t have her, and I was furious.
My fists snapped tight together, and I rounded back my arm and shot it forward, catching my partner in the head again.
“Damn, man. That one hurt.” He held his palms up and removed his helmet. “I need a minute.” He shook his head, his eyes blinking.
“Sorry, mate.” This guy was the least offensive of Donovan’s crew, and one of the only guys I sparred with whom I didn’t really feel a driving urge to destroy.
“Give me five, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Adam McGregor.” At the sound of Donovan’s voice, I lowered my head. I’d had to make small talk with him almost every day since I’d decided to come back to his gym, and my anger and disgust hadn’t weakened one bit. Today, he was flanked by two young girls—barely twenty, I guessed—all dolled up in leather boots, short skirts, and tight shirts that made their cleavage pop.
“Since all of Dublin is banking on you to win, and you’ve won over their hearts, like in the good old days, I thought I’d bring you a present in advance.” Donovan flashed me a wicked grin. “They’re all yours.” He glanced at his wrist watch. “Well, for four hours.” He laughed. Sick fuck.
Like I had ever needed to pay for sex. “I’m all set, but thanks.” I shifted away and scratched the back of my neck, checking around for my sparring partner so we could go at it again.
“It’s not very nice to turn down a gift.” Donovan’s voice was like an icy puff of air slapping me in the face. A warning.
I came to the edge of the ring and rested my elbows on the rope, looking down at Donovan and the two women.
“Or is it because of the girl?” Donovan’s eyes became thin slits as he studied me. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen her.”
Was he keeping tabs on her or me? Or both?
I took a step back from the rope, trying to rein in my temper. I was seven days from the fight with Frankie. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted when it was over. But if I did want out, it would be a very bad idea to mix it up with Donovan right now.
“Fine. Thanks for the gift,” I said through gritted teeth.
“That’s what I thought.” Donovan touched the back of his hand to one of the girls’ cheeks and leaned forward, whispering something in her ear. It took all my energy to restrain myself from decking the motherfucker.
I watched Donovan leave, then I climbed over the rope and hopped down. “I actually have somewhere I need to be soon,” I told the women.
“We can be as quick as you want.” The one girl rolled her tongue over her teeth as her hand slipped up to my naked chest, her long red nails pricking against my skin.
I gently grabbed hold of her wrist and removed her hand. “Well, this will be the quickest job of your life.” I snatched the wallet from my sweats, which hung on a chair outside of the ring. I grabbed a few hundred euros. “Here.” I held the money out. “Consider this your tip. Have a good night, ladies.”
The two women exchanged looks with each other before their eyes landed back on mine. I could see their hesitation. Perhaps they were afraid of Donovan, but what could I do about that? There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be going anywhere with them.
One of them finally reached for the money and nodded at me. Moments later, they were strutting out of the gym, garnering looks from the few men who were here training on a Saturday night.
I checked the clock that was positioned on the wall opposite me near the speed bags. Ma’s pleading voicemail shot to my mind. I had about thirty minutes . . . if I decided to go.
Despite the guilt that plunged deep inside me, I hollered out to my sparring partner. “You ready to go again?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
