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I shake my head. Of course, Sara told her that. I turn away from her and finally hail a cab. It’s clear that Sara brought her here in some misguided attempt to force my hand, probably tired of watching me stare after Kirsten at the bar every night. I’ll be having a not-so-friendly talk with my dear cousin soon.
A cab pulls up to the curb, and I reach over to guide her into it. “Let’s get you home.”
“I’m not leaving,” she says stubbornly, digging her heels into the ground and refusing to budge when I lightly push her. “If you don’t want to help me, then I’ll go back in there and find someone who will!”
Like hell, she will. “Kirsten,” I warn.
“I’m not leaving without an answer.”
“Fuck,” I curse, combing my fingers through my hair. “Fine, who do you need to fight? Tell me who it is, and I’ll knock his teeth out for you.”
“No one,” she lies, her eyes shifting from mine. “I always work late, and I need to know how to defend myself in case someone tries to harass me on my way home.”
That’s the last thing she needs to worry about. I follow her home every night to make sure she arrives safely. But she doesn’t know that.
How is it I never noticed this stubborn side of her? The need to turn her around and spank the petulance out of her makes my cock throb behind my fly and confuses the hell out of me. It’s not a reaction I’ve ever had to a woman before.
A part of me knows there is no winning here. Not against her at least.
Chapter Three
Kirsten
A million dollars couldn’t get me to walk back into the fight club, but I can’t tell if Hawk is buying my false bravado.
He seems to be taking my threat to storm back in there seriously, and . . . I know I should be terrified of this man, but I’m not. Tonight, I watched him punch someone into unconsciousness and send fierce-looking men jumping out of his way. Hell, there are blood stains on his jeans and bruises on his knuckles, but oddly enough, I don’t feel the fear I should be experiencing.
Perhaps, it’s because I have seen a different side of Hawk. A much quieter version of him that walks into the bar every evening and sits alone by the door. I’ve always been curious about the color of his eyes, and now, I know.
I stare into those sharp dark eyes—they’re almost black—and the way they stare down at me . . . the way Hawk watches me shouldn’t send a heat pulsing between my legs, but I can’t help myself. The man is half-naked, his muscles so firm they look like they are carved from stone and adorned with perfectly designed tattoos. This close, I can practically feel his warmth, even when he’s not touching me, and it’s driving me insane.
A car honks, and I jump back, my heart fluttering like crazy as I look around for the source of the sound, and my cheeks flush when I realize we have an audience. It’s the cab driver Hawk stopped earlier. Jesus, I forgot all about the guy.
“Kirsten, all this could be made simple if you tell me who it is you need protection from. I will help you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I have my reasons,” he says. “If someone is bothering you, let me handle him.”
My heart warms at his words, but I shake my head stubbornly. “I want to do this myself. Please, just teach me a few moves. It doesn’t have to be anything big. Just show me something that’ll help me defend myself when . . . I mean, if it comes to that.”
Hawk grits his teeth, and I can tell my non-answers frustrate him. He stares at me for a long time before breathing out a sigh. He waves for the taxi to move on and the car takes off, leaving me to stare eagerly up at the giant in front of me.
“Fine, I will do it, but I have a condition,” he says, stepping into my space, and I resist the urge to back up.
“Anything,” I breathe, which is a stupid response, but in the heat of the moment, it’s all my silly brain can conjure.
“I don’t want or need your money,” he responds, his voice deep and raspy. “I’ll collect my payment in another form.”
“What do you mean?”
“You will find out in due time. Now follow me, angel,” he says, pushing away from me and starting to walk down the street. I shake myself out of my stupor, and for the second time in a night, I follow someone down an unfamiliar street. This time, however, the walk is not spent in total silence.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, falling into step beside him.
“My place,” he says, crossing the street. “I’m taking you back to my place for your first lesson.”
“T-tonight? Right now? I mean it’s . . .” I tap my phone’s screen and let out a gasp when I see what time it is. “Oh my God, it’s almost two in the morning.”
