But he must have heard something because his head whipped my way for the barest second. I clenched my fist and touched my knuckles.
When he looked back at Anton, I hoped he got my message.
Anton swung, but Cole moved so fast I gasped. He was like liquid.
He spun around his opponent, out of reach of those deadly brass knuckles. When he landed his next punch, I sucked in a breath, and realized that he’d been holding back.
And now, he wanted this fight done.
Cole unleashed. More blood splattered the mats. Anton tried to get a few hits in but failed. He lifted his fists to shield his face, but Cole just continued. He hit Anton’s gut, side, face.
I risked a glance at my dad. His craggy features were twisted in fury.
I felt a little spurt of glee. I glanced up at Goodyear’s private box. I hoped he was raging.
Cole kept at Anton. I let myself feel it—rising hope.
Another brutal punch, and Anton went down to his knees. Cole rammed a knee into his face, and Anton’s limp body smacked to the mats.
“Annnnnd, that’s it, ladies and gentlemen. Our winner is the Wolf!”
The spectators screamed and cheered.
Cole spun and strode toward me. My heart hammered against my ribs. His gaze was locked on me, and he wasted no time shoving out of the ropes.
“Looks like our winner is eager to claim his prize.” The announcer chuckled.
Cole reached me. He had blood smeared on his arm and I hoped it wasn’t his. His chest gleamed with sweat. He held out a hand.
Without hesitation, I put mine in his.
Rough, calloused fingers closed around mine. He helped me off the platform and spun. Then he was dragging me, moving so fast that I could barely keep up.
“Cole, thank?—”
“We’ll talk later. Once we’re out of here.”
“Are your ribs okay? You took a big hit.”
He grunted. “They’re fine.”
I stumbled, then he shocked me by spinning, leaning one shoulder down, then tossing me over it.
Oh, my God. He carried me into the corridor and I held on, hoping to hell the dress was still covering my ass.
He carried me into one of the locker rooms, then set me down. He grabbed a black duffel bag off the floor.
He yanked out a black jacket, then wrapped it around me. I clutched the lapels, pulling it over the skimpy dress. A spicy, masculine scent hit me and I breathed deeply. Next, he pulled a black T-shirt over his chest.
I clutched at the jacket. “I can’t thank you enough?—”
He swung the duffel bag over his shoulder, then took my hand again. “You don’t need to thank me. Now, let’s get out of here.”
I bit my lip. I’d been so focused on the fight, I hadn’t thought about what was supposed to happen afterward. “I…I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Brilliant-blue eyes met mine. I’d never seen the ocean, but that blue was what I imagined the water looked like. They didn’t make me think of sunny skies or pretty lakes, they were stormy and turbulent, like the deepest ocean.
“You’re coming with me.”
