Page 33 of Four Cards Exposed

Beast looked in her direction as well, distracted for a moment—and James took that chance to strike, catching Beast on the right temple with a solid hook. While Beast was still reeling, James pressed his advantage. He was furious, relentless—a machine—careful to keep his upper body far from Beast’s reach.

Beast blinked once, twice, three times in quick succession. That was the first sign that something was wrong. His large arms swiped across his body, grabbing at air, and for a moment Susan didn’t understand what he was aiming at—until she realized the man couldn’t see where James was.

James must have noticed at the same time. He jumped back, landing quietly on the balls of his feet, and circled around Beast. His hands were up, inches away from Beast’s kidneys, but he held back, looking at the referee.

And then it was over. James was declared a winner. Beast was helped to a seat by a very pale man who might be his brother.

James approached the corner and said something to him, too quietly for anybody else to hear. Beast nodded and raised his fist for a brief bump.

The crowd parted to let James through. He walked past his boss and straight to where Susan was standing.

“Get me a drink, sweetheart,” he drawled, putting his elbow on the bar. One of his hands still held on to his ribs. There were stains on the tape covering his wrists and palms. She could understand why the fighters would choose black tape.

Before she could bring him the drink, he leaned over and vomited inside a small trash can.

“Jesus,” Moore said, coming up behind him, but there was an excited gleam in his eye. This was good for business. “That was a good fight, Jay.”

Rivulets of sweat ran down James’s neck and chest, some of it stained pink with blood. The sweat made his muscles stand out, and for a moment, she imagined what it would be to reach out and touch those strong muscles.

Something tugged inside her.

He’s hurt.

He’d just puked into a trash can, and looked like he might need to do so again. She shouldn’t be enjoying the view. But she couldn’t help herself. The other men, even the fighters, they could take off their T-shirts anytime, and she wouldn’t even notice. But with James—he affected her in ways that were hard to explain.

She realized the men were still talking to each other.

Jay nodded and took the envelope the man offered, stuffing it inside his shorts. He looked like he was going to say something else, but then eyed the trash can warily again and swayed.

“Let me get one of my guys to walk you home—“

“I don’t trust your guys,” James growled softly.

Moore laughed. “Always cautious, Jay. I like that about you.” He looked around, and his eyes came to rest on her as she approached with a beer.

“You. Leave that. Get him out of here. Make sure he gets home safely. I need him in prime fighting form next week.”

She set the glass down and came around to the other side of the bar. Her arm went around James’s waist—low, to avoid what she was sure were cracked or broken ribs. James passed an arm around her shoulders and transferred his weight from the bar to her. She struggled for a moment, wishing she weren’t wearing these stupid heels, then straightened her spine.

“You can’t stand, can you?” she asked softly.

He gave her a mild look—as if all the aggression had been pulled out of him, or as if he were getting ready to throw up again.

“I won’t let you fall,” she promised, and took the first step forward with him.

12

* * *

James

"You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?” she asked in a worried voice as they stepped out of the warehouse.

James breathed in the fresh evening air, testing his ribs. It felt like he was breathing through broken glass, but he could breathe without feeling like he was going to pass out, so the ribs must be cracked, not broken.

He looked behind them to make sure they were alone, then took some of his weight off her. Although he felt like shit, he wasn’t as badly off as he’d made it look in there, and he didn’t want to crush Susan.

“You can lean on me,” she said, misinterpreting his move. “I’m stronger than I look.”