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“I think he’s ready to see me gone.”
“Really?”
I nod, the knot in my throat betraying my calm.
“He told you as much?”
“No. But he’s an ass—or was an ass. I don’t know. He’s been a dick to me for years, then incredible after… After. Lately, he’s been distant. I told him I was looking for a place. He didn’t say anything.” Literally. Not. A. Word. “I’m sure he’s ready to get his life back.” I scan the house. “I’ll only cramp his style.”
She laughs again, tossing her purse in the car. “He’s always been an ass, particularly to you. I think that says something right there. You’re his kryptonite. Even Superman has his Lois Lane.”
“But she wasn’t his kryptonite. Kryptonite was his kryptonite.”
“Whatever, you know what I mean. Maybe Superman was a shit analogy, but you’re Gabriel’s Achilles heel. Without you, he walks for shit.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “You’re really bad at this.”
“But you got my drift?”
“Yeah, I feel ya. I just don’t agree. He couldn’t care less. He’s barely even talking to me.”
“That’s because he’s too busy fucking you in his head.”
“God,” I groan. The ideas she puts in my head. It’s too soon to even consider moving on with someone. I need to find my own footing. Besides, I don’t think I can trust my feelings when it comes to Gabriel. He swooped in to save me, but that’s not his norm—at least not when it comes to me. Mr. Asshole will come out. I have no doubt. He makes me feel safe, even in his home when he’s not here. Which is why I need to move out. I need to feel safe on my own.
“Truth, babes. It sucks sometimes.” She hops in her car, turning it on and rolling down the window. “Think about my offer, but think about staying here even more.” She drives off with a, “Wings out, bitches!”
Lili is as crazy and bold as they come, but she’s got it bad for Donovan. I’m happy for them. I kinda wish I knew her in her single days. She was a wild one, I’m sure. But Married Mommy Liliana is a rock star.
Something to aspire to.
I head inside and turn on the TV, setting it up to watch Gabriel’s fight when it starts. The knot in my stomach I used to have before Austin’s fights is present, but I don’t fear the face of Gabriel when he fights. He is—was—Mr. Asshole all the time. There’s no hidden monster with him. He’s as alpha as they come, and he wears it proudly. Gabriel is who he is with no apology, no pretenses. Though, he’s shown me his gentle side, something I never thought I’d see directed at me. It’s been amazing… And confusing.
With an hour before it starts, I take a shower, donning yoga pants and an oversized shirt, sans bra, and set off for the kitchen. I think Gabriel made another batch of beef stew. I squeal when I find it—thank God I’m alone. My elation over Gabriel’s cooking would be an endless tease-fest if anyone else were here. Setting the pot to warm on the stove, I check the time and the TV, confirming I’m all set.
The fights start, one right after the other, but it’s the heavyweight match I’m waiting for. My nerves kick into high gear when “Bawitdaba” by Kid Rock blares through the arena—it’s Gabriel’s entrance song. It’s not the one Lili was listening to a few weeks ago, but it’s good. Effective. The crowd goes crazy, their roar nearly overpowering the heavy beat of the song.
Gabriel’s menacing mug comes on the screen. His blue eyes—electrified from the strobing lights—flash to the screen for a split second. In that second, I feel his gaze on me like he knew I’d be watching. A smirk slips free before he banishes it with a clenched jaw and a punch in the air. He mouths something, kisses his wrapped fingers before raising his hand to the heavens. I’ve watched Gabriel fight, and I’ve never seen him do that.
Over his shoulder, I spot Coach, flanked by Jonah and Walker. They look ready to spit fire, demons escorting the devil to hell. They’re all ex-military, including Coach. This is nothing compared to what they endured while fighting for our freedom. The MMA universe may be tough as nails, but these guys know they’re the powerful nail-gun who will spit out the competition like the hunks of metal they are. These men know fear and death—and beat both, tirelessly. An MMA match is like a church social for them.
Gabriel tops the steps at the octagon entrance. Arms raised as if he’s already won, he turns, giving the camera a full view of his impressively muscled back, but it’s not the muscles that has them clamoring, it’s his tattoo. It’s Gabriel, the avenging angel whose dark shadowy wings span the breadth of his back. The figure is dark yet glows with inner light, a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. Gabriel may liken himself more to the devil, but his back says otherwise. He’s Gabriel the archangel.
With a quick look to his corner, he enters the cage.
Music for his competitor begins to play. The main camera pans to the entering fighter, but a picture-in-picture display on the bottom right of the screen stays on Gabriel. My eyes don’t leave him. I step closer to the TV as if my motion could make the camera zoom in. He bounces, light on his feet, too light for a man his size and weight: 6’6” and 240 pounds. All muscle. All man. Dipped in testosterone and rubbed to glistening perfection.
“You never looked at me like that.”
I scream, pivoting to find an angry-faced Austin taking up space in the arch between the entryway and the living room, hands fisted at his sides, his fight face, his intent to cause harm radiating off him—focused on me. “Austin.”
He steps forward, pointing at the TV. “You never fucking looked at me like that!”
THE TRIP TO LA WAS UNEVENTFUL. The guys tried to get me to go out last night, but I wasn’t interested. They were out to get laid. There’s only one woman I want, and she’s home—at my house—waiting for me. At least, I hope she is. Donovan said Frankie and Liliana were going apartment hunting today. I prayed she didn’t find anything. It’s a shitty prayer, but I’m King Asshole. Whaddya expect?
The Russian dude I’m fighting tonight tried to intimidate me at the weigh-in. I all but laughed in his face. Now, if he had a rocket launcher in his hand or was disemboweled by an IED, and I was expected to put him back together, then I’d be sweating. But as it stands, he’s got nothing on me. He’s no threat. It’s only a fight. An important one for the key invite I need, but still, it’s not life or death.
I texted my Angel right before my entrance. It was stupid. Who the hell let me have my phone? She didn’t answer. Of course. I kept glancing at the screen.
