Page 55

"The windshield. You're supposed to look through it when you're driving, not constantly stare at the person in the passenger seat."

"I got you here in one piece." I reached to mess up her hair.

She ducked out of my reach with wolf-like reflexes. "Mess with my hair and I'll tell Dad you're not a safe driver."

Astrid pulled open Rosalind's door and handed her out, wearing a smug grin as she did. The two women continued their conversation as I trailed behind them. Rosalind glanced over her shoulder and winked at me.

That little minx. She'd run from me in the woods, in the bedroom, and now she was using my own fucking sister to keep me from getting my hands on her. She'd be in serious trouble when I finally caught her; and I would catch her.

The Lupetto gym took up most of the block. Calling it a gym didn't do the place justice. The public entrance led to the legitimate operation. Boxing. MMA. Personal trainers who charged more per hour than most people made in a day. I'd sparred here plenty of times. But fight nights happened below.

We descended two flights of stairs, and the building changed. The air was warmer. Sweatier. Testosterone had a smell, and the place reeked of it. Sweat. Alcohol. Blood from whatever preliminary fight we'd missed.

I cast a worried glance at Rosalind, but she was doing fine.

The bass from the music vibrated through the concrete beneath my feet. The Lupettos hadn't skimped. The fighting ring sat at the center of the room beneath a bank of lights, surrounded by tiered seating that rose almost to the ceiling. Private boxes occupied the upper level. Bars lined two walls. There were no cheap folding chairs or sticky floors. Leather. Steel. Dark wood. Everything polished.

A modern-day Colosseum. The Lupettos had built a place designed to make men feel like warriors while they sat comfortably drinking thousand-dollar bottles of liquor and watched other men bleed.

There was a poster of the gym's prize fighter. Casanova Lupetto. I'd sparred with him enough times to respect him. He packed a punch. More importantly, he thought before he threw one. Most big men relied on strength. Casanova understood angles. Balance. Momentum. He watched an opponent's feet and shoulders and adjusted before the punch ever came.

He made me work. I was looking forward to watching someone else make him work tonight.

"Oh, fuck no."

I looked down at Astrid. She'd stopped walking.

"What?" I asked, ready to break the neck of whoever threatened my little sister. Weapons weren't allowed in the gym. But I had claws beneath my skin.

Astrid's attention was fixed across the room. I followed it. Vidar stood near one of the private sections with Addie tucked against his side. Beside them stood Elias O'Shea.

Ah.

"Is this a setup?" Astrid turned on me. "You knew he was going to be here."

"You should've asked who was coming before you invited yourself into my car."

"Fuck you." She huffed and marched away.

With my cock blocker gone, I tucked my wife's hand into the crook of my elbow and led her farther into the room. I'd walked into this room dozens of times. Usually, I was looking for threats. Exits. Who was armed. Who was drunk. Who was angry. Who owed us money. Who might decide tonight was the night he wanted to prove himself against a Blackwood.

Tonight, I was aware of the woman on my arm. I felt like I was escorting Cleopatra into the Colosseum. Every man in the place could look. Didn't matter. She was mine. And she was the most beautiful fucking woman in the room.

"The lights are low," I told her. "Shouldn't bother your eyes much."

Her fingers shifted against my arm. "The glasses go with my outfit."

"Your eyes are beautiful."

She hesitated another second before reaching up and pulling off her sunglasses. Those pale eyes appeared. My dick went even harder.

I grinned. "There she is."

"Stop grinning so hard. Your dimples are showing."

I pressed a kiss to her temple, making a conscious effort to keep my lips from pursing at her last comment. If my wife could hardly see details, how the fuck did she know my dimples were showing? Another inconsistency. Another moving part that didn't fit where it was supposed to.

"Blackwood."