He laughs, shaking his head as he climbs in after me. Before he’s even fully upright, I slam a right hook into his face. He stumbles back with wide eyes, stunned for half a second before swiping at the blood trickling from his lip, then grins.
“Well, all right then. Guess we’re skipping foreplay.” He squares up, rolling his shoulders. “Holy shit, you got it bad, man.”
He’s not wrong, and that only pisses me off more.
“If you dodged half as much as you talked, maybe you wouldn’t get hit as much.” I snap, circling him, fists clenched and ready to burn off every last ounce of this frustration.
He barely dodges the next swing, and just like that, we fall into a rhythm.
The first hit comes fast. A sharp jab to my ribs, but I don’t react, even though I can feel the sting. He knows where to aim, when to push, and when to shut the fuck up.Usually.And right now, he’s pushing me.
I counter hard, swinging for his head, but he ducks, landing an uppercut that rattles my jaw.Fuck, that hurt.
We keep going, back and forth. The sound of fists meeting skin and the dull thud of impact fills the space. It’s fast and brutal, and I can feel every muscle straining under the weight of the fight.
He’s watching me. Waiting. And I know exactly what he’s waiting for.
He dodges my next swing, then exhales sharply. “I have some information I think you’ll find interesting.
I pause, a second too long, but it’s all the opening he needs. His fist slams into my ribs, and pain explodes through my side. My vision flashes before I shake it off.
“Go on.”
Cam rolls his shoulders, staying light on his feet. “Security caught something near the east wing. Someone tried slipping past the outer gate. They were trying to get out, but they didn’t get far. We still don’t know how they got in.”
I throw a jab that he easily blocks, but the tension crawling up my spine has nothing to do with the fight.
“Who is it?”
“That’s the thing.” He shifts his stance, watching my reaction. “No ID, no clear motive. Just someone testing the boundary is my guess.” He throws a jab, but misses. “Could be tied to our new client. Could be something else.”
I grind my teeth, dodging another sharp left hook before landing a brutal hit to his ribs that I know he'll feel in the morning.
“What else?”
He bounces around me avoiding another hit. “Not much else to tell. Security handled it before anything happened, but the timing’s suspicious, don’t you think?”
I don’t reply because he already knows the answer.
It’s beenyearssince I’ve had a real incident, let alone someone actually breaking in, slashing my tires, and then trying to slip away unnoticed. There had to be a point to all of that.
Coincidence? Not a fucking chance. Clearly I've been distracted.
My fists fly faster with every hit, muscles and instinct drive me forward while my mind battles to hold the reins. Clarity and control. The two things that are slipping through my hands like water.
Cam staggers back, breathing hard, wiping sweat from his brows. “As much fun as I’m having kicking your ass,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “I’m starting to think we should be using, you know… words.”
My chest is heaving. He has a point, but it doesn’t mean I give a damn. “You might be right.” I admit with a smirk. Then I throw another punch.
He barely moves in time, cursing under his breath. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
“Glad you’re finally catching on.”
Right now, this is the only thing stopping me from hunting down every lead until I know who the hell is poking around my house.
“Besides,” I taunt, sidestepping a jab. “You’re just mad you’re not winning.”
He doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he goes for an uppercut that I dodge. Which is exactly what he wanted.Fuck.
