Page 78 of On the Edge

I looked closely at the ring and at the man whose back was to me as he squared off with another fighter. The tattoo on his back drew my eye, and all the blood rushed from my face. Adam? No! God, no!

“Holy shit,” I think Kate shouted, but I couldn’t be certain. It was hard to hear anything except for the pounding of my heart. It seemed to throb in my ears.

I wanted to leave, to run, and yet, I didn’t. It’s like my mind was trying to process what I was seeing as the crowd pushed me closer to the cage.

The guy fighting Adam was a tall redhead, but not nearly as well muscled as Adam. He had a slight bit of fat on his stomach, and he sported love handles. Adam was certainly more fit, but his opponent was so big. I wasn’t sure what would happen.

The man swung his arm at Adam’s core, but Adam deflected the shot with his left arm while knocking the guy in the chin with a hard uppercut. I remembered that move from my self-defense class, although it never looked quite like that.

Jax. I snapped my eyes shut as I remembered Jax’s raised fist. The memories hit me like fresh wounds. Jax was why I had taken self-defense lessons. And somehow, here I was in Ireland watching another man use his hands—the mark of violence.

But why was Adam doing this?

I slowly peeled open my eyes, flinching, as if I’d been hit by the fighter as he connected his right shin to Adam’s side. Adam took a slight step back and lowered his arms, shaking them out for a second. He then raised his hands, cloaked by black gloves, snapping them back into a guard in front of his face.

I inched even closer to the cage, my eyes widening as I observed Adam. I noted the way the muscles in his body were taut—his jaw strained. A slight sheen of sweat was on his spine and forehead.

But his eyes. Oh God, his eyes . . . my skin crawled with chills at the gleaming and dark look there as Adam circled his opponent.

I’d never seen the fierce look in Adam’s eyes before. It was as if he weren’t the same man I had come to know.

I gasped as Adam sprung forward. His arm reached out, which had me slapping a hand to my mouth as fear curled inside my chest.

Adam’s hand slammed hard into the guy’s cheek, and the people around me started screaming, growing wild as the redhead fell back and smacked loud against the ground.

He was out—cold. And I was going to be sick.

I stumbled a step back, bumping into someone as Adam knelt down next to the redhead and placed a hand on his shoulder. He was saying something to the fighter—and then Adam looked up as if he sensed me. His eyes landed on mine, and he held onto me for a few moments, not moving or speaking.

I sucked in a breath of stale air, my body now trembling. I needed to get out of there.

I turned away, breaking from Adam’s eyes, even though it nearly destroyed me. “Please, move,” I cried, knowing no one could hear me. Still, I fought against the crowd, trying to ignore the reaching hands of men who groped me as I barreled through them.

It took me a minute or two, but I found my way to the stairs and tore out of the building. Once outside, I bent forward, pressing my hands to my knees, trying to catch my breath.

Adam was a fighter. What the hell!

The signs had been almost obvious. How could I have missed them? Bruised knuckles, the cut and bruise by his eye. The way his fists locked at his sides when someone upset him. The guys from outside Les’s apartment . . . even they had looked like fighters.

I flung a hand to my chest, trying to control my emotions. I didn’t want to cry.

I refused to cry.

I took off, thankful I’d worn flat-soled boots. I practically threw myself inside the first taxi that came into view.

My phone vibrated as the cab drove.

Was that really our boss in the ring? It was a message from Kate.

I glared at the message for a solid minute before shoving the phone back into my purse. I didn’t know what to say to her. I didn’t even know what to think.

By the time I had made it safe inside my hotel room, I was starting to feel surprised that Adam hadn’t once called or texted me.

I bit my lip, looking around my hotel room, trying to think about what to do. My hands trembled, and my heart was still racing like the hooves of a horse.

I rushed into the bathroom and peeled off my clothes. I turned on the shower and stepped inside, not waiting for the water to warm.

The freezing water cascaded over me like rain. My mascara burned my eyes, and then I felt the taste of it on my lips. I sank to a crouching position, wrapping my arms around my knees.

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