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REBEL
“We’re closed,” the man in the little office called out. “Open again at six in the morning.”
That might be so, but I could see Kian across the other side of the gym, and I was pretty sure he could see me.
“Let ’em in, Gino.”
Gino leaned over the counter to scowl at Kian. “I got a missus at home, Kian. It’s already late. I gotta close up.”
“Go home to Grace. I’ll close for you.”
Gino didn’t need telling twice. He was gone quicker than you could blink. Another man pulled on a business shirt and smart, Italian leather shoes. He gave Kian a meaningful look.
A little seed of jealousy kernelled inside me.
The man picked up a gym bag from a bench and then walked toward us, his gaze landing on Vaughn. He paused. “Vaughn, right? Luca Guerra.”
Vaughn frowned. “Sorry, have we met?”
The other man shook his head. “No. See you around.”
He slipped out behind Fang so Vaughn couldn’t question him any further.
“That was weird,” he mumbled.
But with the gym to ourselves, I didn’t want to waste any more time. I strode across the space to where Kian stood, quietly packing his bag.
Sweat glistened across his shoulders, and his biceps bulged from his workout. “Why are you all in my gym?”
I gave him a half-smile. “I wanted to do some cardio?”
The corner of his mouth flickered then flattened out again. “You’re wearing a skirt and combat boots, and I think your earrings are nearly as big as your head. Nice try, what else you got?”
I swallowed thickly and pulled a sheet of paper out from my back pocket. “Okay, so don’t laugh, but I wrote you a poem.”
Kian blinked. “Sorry, what?”
I waved it toward him. “A poem. So you’d forgive me.”
He scrunched his face up. “I’ve got a lot of questions, but maybe I’ll save them for after this little impromptu poetry reading.” He motioned to the ring. “Stage is yours, Rebel.”
My heart fell. He hadn’t called me Little Demon. I didn’t like the way Rebel sounded on his tongue. Not when it didn’t sound all warm and sweet like it normally did. But I needed to push on because I had things to say.
I cleared my throat and gazed down at the page, reading the words I’d scrawled across it earlier. “I wrote a poem to say I’m sorry. For all the things I said, good golly.”
Vaughn let out a snort of laughter.
Fang kicked him in the shin, and that shut him up. He hobbled over to sit on the bench seat beside Kian.
I gave him a dirty look before continuing. “I made you feel bad, and for that, I’m sad. You are so kind and nice, and you keep away the mice.”
Vaughn howled with laughter.
Oh, fuck him, asshole. “What? He does! I don’t see you setting any mousetraps at home, Vaughn!”
He doubled over on the seat, laughing so hard tears rolled down his cheeks. “I can’t breathe,” he wheezed. “I seriously can’t breathe.” He looked at Fang through watery eyes. “Don’t kick me again. I bruise like a peach.”
Fang pulled out a gun from the waistband of his jeans and cocked it in his direction. “Could shoot you instead if you don’t shut up and let her finish.”
