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Shit, I’m late taking my meds. Quickly, I down the bitter pills that keep my brain from short-circuiting and eat a few crackers to settle my stomach. I pick up my phone and delete my mother’s messages. My finger hovers over the delete button for Max’s voice mail, but for some reason, I push play instead. His voice is hurried and parts of the message are muffled so I can’t tell what it is he wants.
“Britt, it’s… ummmm, well…. it’s Max. I…. Killer. Anyway…. so maybe…. I can’t help……”
I stare at the phone, puzzled. No way do I have the energy to decipher Max’s bizarre voice mail right now, and I am not calling him back to find out either.
My mind wanders to last night, that moment before Keller stepped into the cage. Something was there between us, I know it. I have no idea why he won’t admit that we work, that we need each other, that we both have demons to fight and fight them better together.
Screw it.
I pull my laptop out of my work bag and fire it up, impatiently tapping on the table as I wait. Once it’s on, I click through folders until I find the one with Keller’s most recent pre-fight physical. It’s my job to collect all medical paperwork and submit it to the AFL. On the top, below the name Keller Bishop, is exactly what I was looking for. I jot it down, shove my feet into my shoes, and too impatient to wait for a cab, I grab my keys.
Fifteen minutes later, I pull into the underground garage of one of the newest high-rise buildings in Midtown. All modern design and sleek glass, this luxury condo complex is far from what I expected for a man like Keller Bishop. I blink back my surprise and push the button for the elevator. Seventeen stories later, I’m standing outside of a large gray door.
Taking a deep breath, I lift my hand and knock.
11
Killer
Knocking. Someone is knocking on my door. No one ever knocks on my door so I ignore it. It gets louder.
Persistent motherfucker.
I haul my sorry carcass to my feet and dump my empty beer bottle in the sink as I walk by. Instead of joining Dad at his celebration of the worst fucking day of my life, I stayed home and drank. Actually, that’s not true. I started drinking last night after the fight and just kept going when I woke up. Because I stuck to beer, I’m pleasantly buzzed, not shitfaced like I would be with hard liquor.
The knocking starts again right as I yank the door open. My eyes widen when I see who’s standing on my threshold.
Maybe I should have drowned myself in hard liquor.
“Britt?”
My head spins as the small woman who turned my world upside down pushes past me into my home. She stops a few feet in and her pert nose wrinkles, her jaw jutting out defiantly.
“Are you drunk?”
What the—?
I slam the door closed and spin to face my accuser. “What difference does it make if I am? But for your information, no, I’m not drunk. I’ve been drinking, it’s not the same thing.”
Britt crosses her arms over her chest, her confidence waning. “Oh.”
Jesus. Today of all days, pure temptation shows up on my doorstep, literally. The one day of the year, besides Kinsey’s birthday, that I allow myself to fall the fuck apart. Frustrated, I thread my hands through my hair, tugging on it.
“Why are you here, Britt?”
Her face colors, those blue eyes shimmer wetly, and I know exactly why she’s here. I hurt her. On purpose. Because I’m a selfish fucking bastard.
“I just…” she sighs, her gaze dropping to her feet. “I’m having a really bad day and…” Her lips tremble and she shifts from foot to foot. “And I missed you.” Those thick lashes flutter as her eyes flick back up to mine, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.
Fuck.
I close my eyes and inhale slowly through my nose. I can’t do this. I can’t let her get close again. Facing reality is too painful for Keller, for the man she needs me to be. Besides, Britt deserves so much more than a walking corpse, someone who goes through the motions of living without feeling any human emotions except anger and violence. And guilt. Lots of goddamn guilt. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, concentrating on staying strong. On not pulling her into my arms and kissing her until I rob her of her breath, her kind heart, her very soul, sucking them into my body, leaving her empty.
“Britt…” She takes a step toward me and my pulse kicks up a notch. “What are you doing?” Without answering, Britt steps forward again, now close enough for me to smell her sweet, citrusy, feminine scent. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off her perfect, unblemished skin. Skin I’d love to mark with my teeth and the tight grip of my fingers on her hips. The thought makes my cock harden and I curse under my breath.
“Keller,” she whispers, her soft breath caressing my neck.
“God, Britt. This is such a bad idea.” My hands are twitching, aching to reach out and pull that sinful body against mine, to do unspeakable things that would have us both shouting in ecstasy. Sinking into her tight, wet heat would make me forget about today, the anniversary, and all the bullshit that I carry on my shoulders every day. The relief would be euphoric. “I don’t want to use you, Britt.”
