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“Don’t be such a goddamn pussy.” Donovan’s eyes gleamed with something that bordered on excitement. He was itching for this.
“I can’t fight again.” I tried to keep my words steady as I spoke, but I worried the tremble erupting through my body would betray the message. “You know I can’t.”
Donovan tipped his shoulder up. “Then Les fights again, and he keeps fighting until he earns enough to pay me back every penny he owes me. Because I don’t want your money. I want blood money.” Donovan sneered. “You never fought for the money. You did it because you loved it. It was a thing of beauty, watching you fight. You were the best, Adam. But you turned into a pussy.”
“Shut the feck up.” I turned from him and dragged my palms down my face.
“You want it. You know you do. You can’t even step into a room where there’s fighting because you’re too afraid you won’t be able to stop yourself from getting inside the cage.” Donovan was behind me now.
I spun around and threw my hand into the air, holding my fist near his face. My jaw strained, my body tense—I wanted to knock the grin off his face.
Donovan’s lackey rushed to his side, prepared to defend him, but Donovan motioned him away with a wave of the hand. “He won’t hit me, relax. I taught him everything he knows.”
I stepped back and lowered my hand. “I won’t do it, Donovan. I’m not that man anymore.”
I had to keep telling myself that.
“Hey, when you saw Les in the Octagon Friday night, tell me you didn’t wish it was you instead. Tell me that being there didn’t excite you. That you don’t regret your decision to quit.”
“Go feck yourself.” I jerked my chin up. “I’m done with this conversation. Les isn’t fighting. I’ll give you a hundred thousand euros, and you’ll keep away from him.” I stalked past Donovan and his thug and moved toward the sliding glass doors of the hospital, ready to blast my anger at Les. What had he been thinking, betting money he didn’t have?
“What about the pretty girl staying at Les’s apartment?” Donovan barked out from behind, and my body trembled at his words. “American, right? Smoking hot. I’d like to see how she—”
I turned back around in a flash, storming toward Donovan, but the blond arse stepped in front of him. “What’d you say?” I gritted my teeth.
Donovan moved in front of his lackey. “Maybe you should go see her. I think she’ll be getting visitors soon.”
My heart jumped in my chest as I stared into his beady eyes. “If anything happens to her—”
“Sure, because threats work so well with me.” Donovan’s eyes glimmered with amusement.
I reached for my helmet off the ground.
“I’m guessing we’ll be talking again soon,” Donovan called as I rushed back to my bike.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANNA
I was losing my mind. Okay, so maybe my past was influencing my paranoia, but my spine tingled, and my skin was dotted with goose bumps as I walked down the street and to the apartment.
I peeked over my shoulder again at the two men in biker jackets that stalked with quick steps, trailing twenty feet behind me. When one of the guys—the uglier of the two, with a bulbous nose and swollen, inflated ears—made eye contact with me, I gasped and looked back ahead.
I debated ducking into a store or pub, but the street was busy enough to keep me safe. It was Grafton Street, after all. A tourist spot. Even for a Monday, the street was hopping. Men with guitars played, wailing Irish tunes drifted down the street, and people stood outside the row of pubs up ahead, enjoying happy hour. What can happen to me here?
I was being stupid. Just because the guys had been back there since I got off the bus didn’t mean they were following me.
I turned off Grafton and started down a slightly less busy street. I was only two blocks away from the apartment. I had memorized the route to and from the bus stop yesterday, to make sure I would have no hiccups getting to work on my first day.
As much as I wanted to steal another glimpse over my shoulder, I kept my head straight, looking forward.
I rounded the last corner.
I was almost there.
I pulled my arms across my chest and attempted to pick up speed. Why hadn’t I brought sneakers or boots to wear for the walk? My heels kept jamming in the cracks of the cobblestone pavement.
When I spotted the steps leading to the apartment building, I inhaled a lungful of air. I was so ready for this day to be over. It had been mentally exhausting, and mostly because of Adam. I still couldn’t believe I was going to work with him. It had taken all of my restraint to pull my gaze from his corded forearms at the office today. What were those markings? I’d never been one to be drawn to tattoos, but for some reason I couldn’t take my eyes off of Adam’s. Even thinking of it sent a strange warmth to my stomach.
