He tilted his head in question.
I lifted my chin and looked him directly in the eye, confident he could read my thoughts.
Beck smirked even as his chest puffed out slightly and lifted the ropes to step into the ring.
The canvas dipped under his weight. The sound of it carried, soft but solid, and something in my chest answered it.
He glanced in my direction once more, not to see if I was scared, because he knew better than that, but to see if my plan was ready.
I gave him nothing but a steady stare, not wanting to alert anyone that might be looking at me.
Then the bell rang.
Parker was fast.
Lighter on his feet.
He darted in and out, testing Beck’s guard. The crowd roared in approval, pressing closer to the ropes. Money changed hands near my shoulder.
The noise in the warehouse was amplified.
Metal walls turned shouts into thunder. Boots striking concrete felt like drumbeats. It seemed like every surge of noise rolled outward and bounced back, thicker, louder.
Red swayed behind me.
Each burst of shouting made his shoulders twitch. His breath came shorter now, faster. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the back of my chair.
I leaned forward, not wanting the fluid to touch my skin.
Bubba barked at a man near the betting tables holding a wooden baseball bat, and Red flinched.
Interesting.
The louder the room got?—
The worse he looked.
Parker landed a quick jab, and the crowd exploded.
Red sucked in a sharp breath as if it hurt him, then his jaw tightened. I noticed his eyes lost focus for half a second.
George leaned down near my ear. “Your boy better start looking tired, or you’re going to be mine,” he licked the side of my face.
I couldn’t hide my flinch, but I didn’t say anything.
I was busy watching Red.
Watching the way his hands flexed at his sides.
Watching the way, every spike of aggression rippled through him.
This wasn’t random.
It was reactive.
Noise.
Stress.
