Page 32 of Ruthless Deliverance

“Fine. Here,” I toss my tape to him as he drops it back on the bag and replies, “Don’t need it.”

“Of course, Mr. All-Powerful can’t show weakness.” I step to the center of the mat, raising my arms to shield as I watch him, letting him make the first move. It’s a defensive move Gus said is good for someone I’ve never seen fight. Let them show me what they have before I jump in, balls to the wall. Although, that’s how I feel everything has gone with Creed.

He bobs back and forth on his feet, his arms coming up. “No, I just wasn’t trained with my fists taped up.”

Fuck. “Trained?”

“Yeah. Martial arts. Ethan and I joined together when we were kids and stuck with it until football training got more demanding our freshman year.”

I have to work to maintain my focus because I wasn’t expecting personal details. But that doesn’t give me insight about his fighting style. What does is the left hook he throws as I quickly move back, surprise evident on his face. “You’re fast.” Then he throws another as he surges forward. Ducking, I miss the punch, swing my fist, and barely miss his torso. Shit. He’s gonna be a challenge all right. Whether he’s holding back or not, I don’t know. But I won’t.

“Why’d you train?” he pauses for a second. “The truth. Not your bullshit cover story.”

Damn it. Even with him knowing the truth, it feels odd revealing more to him but there’s not much reason to lie at this point. “It was inevitable. I spent more time at the gym than at home, and I fell in love with the place and people. It was my first job.” Okay. Maybe a little too much information. But it is the truth.

“First job? How many have you had at the ripe old age of twenty-three?”

Asshole. It doesn’t exactly surprise me, but it’s another reminder that he has way more information than he should. “Two. The gym, then I joined the force. But you already knew that.” Swiping forward, he dodges my swing, then moves behind me as his arm fastens around me.

“Too eager, Puppet. You lose control when your temper gets the better of you.”

Swinging my head back, it connects with his nose, and he releases me. My elbow jabs back to make purchase with his side as he steps away, and I do the same, putting some distance between us. I watch him casually step around the mat, his eyes blinking as he rubs his nose.

“You’re testing me. You’re seeing if I’m going to lie to you. And I don’t like it. Either trust me or don’t, but don’t try to bait me.”

“Fair enough.” His arm strikes out in a swing, but he stops mid-punch, just as I’m going to sidestep, his leg swipes mine out from beneath me. My back hits the mat and he’s on me, his body covering the length of mine. My hands reach up, pushing against his chest as he remains over me. His arms are at the side of my head, pinning me in place. He’s not making a move; he’s simply demonstrating that he has me at his will.

“Get off of me and fight, or I’m done.”

His smiling lips move over mine, “You’re not fighting me either. Have you finally conceded to what you want?” His hips shift forward, his hard dick leaving nothing to the imagination of what he wants. And damn, I hate to admit I’d given it a thought or two. Or maybe a hundred. Because there’s no doubt in my mind that his commanding confidence carries over to the bedroom. Somewhere my mind shouldn’t be with him. But I can’t say I’m not curious after the less-than-exhilarating sex I’ve experienced. It always felt more like I was doing what was expected rather than what I craved. And fuck, I don’t want to crave this jackass but I am.

His mouth covers mine, his tongue parting my lips, as his need reveals itself fully. One hand drops to my thigh, squeezing as he shifts the majority of his weight on his other arm. But there’s enough on me, pinning me down, that I know being with him would be everything I’d imagined, plus more—because I usually stop the thoughts before I let myself finish. And I need to stop now too. We’re on the freaking mat at the gym, making out like two hormonal teenagers. Not exactly what one hormonal teenager and an undercover agent should be doing.

Gripping his shoulders, I push him away enough to maneuver slightly to the side as I try to get out from under him. “I’m done.”

“Forfeit. Then I win.” His triumphant grin spreads as he keeps enough of a grip on me that I can’t get up.

“No, you don’t.” Using the room I have, I pull my arm back, swinging my fist to connect with his mouth. He finally moves back as I get to my feet, then he does the same. “That’s for kissing me. We’re supposed to be sparring, not fucking in middle of a gym.”

Turning away, I go to get my bag. How the hell had I let this happen? Rolling around with a damn jerk who’s still in high school and not in any way aware of what’s really at stake—what an idiot I’m being. And he proves my point. Because out of all the things he can do, he laughs. It shouldn’t surprise me, but I thought he’d at least be a little ticked off for the cheap shot.

“Come back out here. I’ll give you the point.”

He’s enjoying this way too much. Me. I’m less than amused and sure as fuck more stressed than when I arrived. “No. I’m finished with this shitshow because I’m gonna lose either way. My job. My career.” My dignity. The standards I’d set coming into this job were blown out of the water on day one. And things just keep getting more complicated.

My anger rises, but I push it down because it’s to the point where I feel it coming on in frustrated tears. That won’t happen. Because it has nothing to do with Creed and everything to do with just wanting to be at my gym, not this one, and sure as fuck not Creed’s.

Grabbing my bag, I walk off and notice there’re a few gymgoers who are paying way too close attention to Creed and me. But I can’t blame them after the ridiculous show we just put on.

“Dani.” His shout of my name sounds more desperate than usual, but I still hesitate before I turn to look at him. “Never pegged you for a quitter.”

“You don’t know anything about me. But I don’t have to worry about quitting. I’m sure I’ll be fired before all of this is over.” This isn’t me quitting. This is me walking away from a hopeless situation. And it is a hopeless, pointless dead end. Walking away from the entire operation now would be a wise decision. Because there’s no backup or weapon that can help me deal with all this shit, even if I had the option.

29

DANI

Saturday night, ten o’clock, and I’m in bed. This is my usual Saturday night. My pre-undercover-assignment Saturday night. This or hanging out at Gus’s with the night owls. I’d be there if I could, but this was second best. The one thing I knew I wasn’t doing was heading to the field party. After the gym earlier, and Creed screwing with my mind some more, I needed a break from it all. And when his message come across the screen of my phone asking (or more like telling) me to meet him at party, I knew not going was the best option and shut my phone off.