To the Ends of the Earth (Stripped 5)

I manage a wan smile. “I guess you can swear now that Delilah isn’t here.”

“You don’t like it.”

It’s a shock to realize he knows that about me. That he can see right through me. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a shit—a bad habit. And the fact that I’m joining the fight this late in the game will make all kinds of news. People have been training for six months.”

My eyes widen. “And the fight is next week?”

He cracks his knuckles, looking like some kind of Spartan warrior. I can imagine him in gold and red armor, fierce in the face of catapults and arrows. “I’ve got some ground to make up.”

I blink. “But if you usually fight, why weren’t you already signed up for the fight.”

“I was looking for you.” He turns his head away, shielding his eyes. “Besides, I’ve been trying to fight less.”

My heart clenches. “You don’t like it anymore?”

Then he looks back at me, showing every vicious thought, every carnal desire for violence. “I love it.”

“Then why do you want to stop?”

He nods toward the bleachers, where a few other women have set up shop with shiny phones and smoothies in Styrofoam cups. “Have a seat. I’ll try to keep it quick today.”

“Wait.” I put my hand on his arm, amazed anew at the incredible strength that flexes beneath my palm. “You shouldn’t fight for me. It’s dangerous. And you haven’t trained enough.”

“Have a little faith,” he says, gently chiding.

“I lost my faith a long time ago,” I tell him honestly.

He sizes me up. “Yeah. I guess you did, little bird. Well, rest easy. Fighting’s in my blood. This is what I was born to do. And you’re the best reason I’ve ever had to do it.”

Chapter Fourteen

I’m no stranger to violence.

It’s still a shoc

k to see Luca in the ring.

There’s blood and sweat, maybe spit, some tears as his opponent’s nose makes a horrifying crunch. When Luca said training, I thought he meant push-ups and squats. Maybe some carefully contained pretend fights with protective padding.

Instead he’s wearing nothing but shorts slung low on his hips, gloves on his hands, and a mouth guard. The fight doesn’t seem to have rules. Trainers stand on either corner, hurling encouragement that sounds more like insults. Other fighters stop their training to watch Luca work. He takes out one man, then another. Then another.

“He’ll be okay.”

The voice startles me, and I turn to see a slender woman with brown hair and dark eyes. She’s sitting on the bleachers a couple rows back, a book folded open beside her.

“You look a little tense,” she says with a sympathetic smile. “Colin will take good care of him.”

I glance back at the ring, looking closer at the rough man outside Luca’s corner. “Colin?”

“He’s working with Luca. I saw you come in with him.”

“Oh. He’s a trainer?”

“Kind of. He used to fight. Now he trains fighters, but he’s real selective about it.” She grins. “None of the other trainers wanted to work with Luca, considering how little time he had. But that’s the kind of challenge Colin likes.”

My eyes widen. “I didn’t realize he’d be so far behind. Are you sure he’ll be safe?”