Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“I’m shocked you don’t want to get back at me for that, No Rust,” Cain says. “Or maybe you know I’m gonna ragdoll you like the limp-dick motherfucker you are.”
“You beat me by decision,” I tell him. “I’m going to choke you out, knock you out, or break your fucking arm.”
The audience erupts. Mary smiles even wider. For the first time since I can remember, a thrill of something moves through me. I feel proud because my Mary is, and I sit up straighter, letting emotion into my voice, just like that night, the call with Dad.
“I’d happily do it now, but we both know the security would get involved. With no police and no security, I’d shatter your bones and leave you unconscious and half dead. I survived three rounds with you. You won’t survive five with me. You’ll be lucky to survive one.”
I thought the audience erupted before, but now it’s mayhem. People are cheering and clapping, but all I feel is this new power and fierceness. I wonder where it comes from. Then it hits me harder and with fiercer intent than a punch ever could. It comes from the fact Mary is carrying my child. I’m going to be a father. It’s a new protective instinct. The mother of my child. My child.
“Yeah, yeah,” Cain says lamely, and then the press conference continues, the regular bland questions. I spend the time trying not to drink Mary in with my eyes, but it’s so difficult, especially when we share a quick look.
She looks away, smiling as if she can’t help it, knowing we can’t stare at each other for too long. Brad grins beside her, thinking I’m looking at both of them, I bet. He has no idea the savage thoughts barreling through my mind.
“I see you looking over at your friend there,” Cain says later, toward the end of the conference. I look at him coldly, that big grin on his face, handlebar mustache freshly trimmed. He’s wearing a cowboy hat, tilted back. “The only friends you ever had, ain’t that right, Rust? Bradley and Mary Allen.”
Hearing him use their names almost sends me out of the seat, sprinting past the podium and the security. I’ve never fought with emotion guiding me, but after last night’s training, when this new fire made me brutal, I’m confident I’ll tear him to pieces. It’ll be his punishment for daring to talk about my lady. She belongs to me, not him, nobody else.
“Little Mary made quite the stir yesterday, didn’t she?” he goes on because the prick can probably see he’s getting to me. “But at least her knight in shining armor was there to save her.”
Right on cue, two people walk to the front of the stage and hold up giant placards. Security rushes toward them, but not before Mary sees, gasps, and puts her hands over her mouth. Cruz is laughing and chanting into the mic. “Lovers, eh? Lovers! Lovers!” He’s trying to get a chant started, but nobody joins in. It falls flat, but not for Mary.
When his hired goons drop the placards, they fall to the floor, one landing facing us and the stage. It’s a blown-up photo from yesterday when Mary threw herself at the swarm of people. It was the moment I had my arms around her, the first time that day. Cruz has painted hearts all around a freeze-frame of me holding her. We’re looking at each other, and hell, it’s not like I’ve got much experience, but we look in love.
Brad is laughing, shaking his head. He raises his eyebrows at me as if to say, Nice try, right? I try to smirk, but it hurts to pretend. Cruz doesn’t know. It’s just another stupid stunt, but this hurts more than anything he could do to me in the fight.
“Does Brad know you’re cheating on him with his baby sister, huh?” Cain cackles into the mic.
I’m not sure what happens. It’s like when I was a kid, before I found martial arts, hitting the wall until my fist bled. I black out. When I wake up, I’m so filled with rage, with the urge to keep them safe—my woman, my baby. I’ll never let assholes like this speak their name. I dodge past the security and get my hands on Cain, hauling him off his feet, almost throwing him off the damn stage before security is all over us.
“You’re a dead man,” I roar as the audience screams and yells. “A fucking dead man!”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
MARY
I wait backstage, the atmosphere as tense as it can be. Marquis leans against the wall, chewing on a toothpick as he fiddles with his mustache. Brad has a slight grin on his face, shaking his head at the antics. I try to play along. We haven’t spoken about yesterday, the bombshell. There’s an uneasy truce. I know he’s waiting for me to be ready to talk about it, about Mom, what she did, and who she really was.