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“And, what? Feel better about fighting again?”
“No, but—”
She waved her hand in the air. “Sorry, but any situation that doesn’t involve Adam backing away from fighting is a no in my book.”
“So you’d rather he lived in pain?” I stared down at my lap, my hands trembling as emotions rolled through me.
“Of course not, but I don’t want him winding up in jail again, or . . . worse.”
I thought about Jax, how he could have died at Adam’s hands. But Adam had stopped at the sound of my voice. He wasn’t the dark monster he made himself out to be.
I wanted to defend Adam even more to his sister, but clearly, Holly had her concerns. She had known him all her life—who was I to argue with her? We sat in a blisteringly awkward silence.
When we pulled up in front of Adam’s home, my legs were trembling a little, my body on edge.
“His Porsche is here. I’ll unlock the door and let you in. You want me to come with you?” Holly turned off the engine.
“I think I’d better do this alone.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” We got out of the SUV, and I followed her to the front door, petrified of how Adam would respond once he saw me. When she unlocked the front door, I nodded goodbye and stepped inside the dark foyer, closing the door quietly behind me.
I should have called out for him. I should have let him know I was there, but the words were stuck in my throat.
The house was dark and music was coming from somewhere. At the back of the house, maybe.
Deep breaths. I followed the music down a hall and stopped outside a door, which seemed to vibrate from the sound. Memories of the night I’d seen him in the fighting ring flashed to my mind, and my hand hovered in front of the door handle. I tried to relax my shoulders, to remove the unease that had curled inside me, but the anxiety still rose, thick and syrupy.
When I finally opened the door, I saw Adam crouched on top of a blue mat, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. His arms were extended in front of him, moving in slow motion. Then he rose and shifted on his feet in movements that looked almost like a dance. It was stealthy and graceful, but you could also see the power as his biceps flexed, as the muscles in his back came together.
It was beautiful, actually. I wasn’t sure what kind of martial arts he was doing, but the swift movements didn’t match the loud, techno music that blasted throughout the room.
He bent forward, a hand going to the mat, his legs rising above him as he did a handstand with one arm.
Just . . . wow.
But as he brought his feet down I could tell that he would come up facing me, and I was already taking a step back.
His brows pulled together in surprise, and he studied me with tight lips.
“Hi,” I whispered, although he probably couldn’t hear me over the music.
He lowered his head and walked away. My heart galloped in my chest, and then I realized he was turning down the music.
He crossed back through the room and stopped a foot shy of me. I dragged my gaze from the glistening streaks of sweat that glided down his chest and his abs, and then my eyes were drawn back up to his firm lips.
“Your sister brought me here.”
His face remained a blank mask, but I didn’t let it stop me. I fidgeted with my fingers in front of me as I said in a low voice, “Holly tried to get me to leave Dublin.” I forced out a laugh. “Hell, she offered to pay me.”
“What?” I had known that would get him talking. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But don’t you go running after her—she’s already left.”
He crossed his arms, and his corded forearms drew my eye. I wanted nothing more than for him to wrap his arms around me . . . but his protecting me was what had gotten us into this mess in the first place.
“You see,” I said, daring to step closer, “she told me that you aren’t just fighting to keep Leslie safe. She said you’re doing it for me.”
