Kept from You (Tear Asunder 4) - Page 8

Police raiding seemed like a big deal to me, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “So, where do we go?”

“You wait for me or Sculpt. We’ll get you out.”

“What if you can’t get to us?”

“One of us will,” Killian replied.

“But you might not.”

He groaned. “Yeah, if you leave this fuckin’ spot, we won’t. So stay here and don’t panic if anything happens.”

I rambled when I was nervous, and I opened my mouth to do just that and go on about the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to get to us if the crowd blocked him. I was also going to point out that he wasn’t Superman and able to fly over everyone to get to us.

But I never said anything because Mars knew exactly what I was going to do and latched onto my arm, shaking her head.

“We got it,” she said.

Killian briefly glanced at her, back at me, then nodded just as a guy announced the fighters.

Before Killian walked away, my fingers curled into the back of his T-shirt and tugged. He peered over his shoulder at me. “Are you fighting tonight, too?”

“No.” He stared at me a second then added, “I don’t fight for money.” His shirt stretched, my fingers slow to react as he strode away toward the ring.

We were at the back wall, near a storage closet and only a few people lingered near us. Most hovered and jostled one another to get closer to the ring.

“Kite likes you.” Mars bumped me with her shoulder, grinning.

“What? Are you insane?” I blurted loudly because Sculpt and the guy, appropriately called Hannibal, got in the ring and everyone cheered.

She shrugged. “Just sayin’. Sculpt doesn’t look at you like Kite does with those incredible green eyes.”

“He’s looking at me like that because he’s mad that I took the job.”

“Exactly. He’s worried about you.”

I didn’t have time to process that when I heard the first punch. The sound was like a paddle slapping the surface of the water.

My gaze shot to the ring, as did Mars’s and the conversation about Killian liking me dropped as we stared transfixed on Sculpt and Hannibal.

I didn’t know whether to be mortified or fascinated by the fight. My heart pounded and knees trembled as I leaned against the wall for support.

The atmosphere was electric and deafening as they went at each other. I knew nothing about fighting, but it was obvious Hannibal was getting tired as he threw punch after punch at Sculpt, who easily dodged them and threw in the odd fist to the side of the head or gut.

I winced, and the crowd hissed when Hannibal got a good shot into Sculpt’s cheek and sent him back a few steps. He lifted his head and blood dripped down his cheek from the cut Hannibal just wielded.

But it wasn’t the blood that had me worried; it was Sculpt squinting his eyes and staggering. The next blow Hannibal dealt to the side of his head sent Sculpt sideways, then to his knees.

“Oh noooo,” I cried.

My stomach curdled, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

“Look,” Mars said, “he’s getting up.”

I grabbed her hand and squeezed, holding my breath as Hannibal approached the downed Sculpt.

But he never got a handle on him because Sculpt swung hard and fast as he leapt to his feet and didn’t stop.

Hit after hit.

I looked away, and my eyes darted to Killian instead standing next to the ring, his expression calm and focused on Sculpt.

I hadn’t expected to see him calm, especially during a fight. But it was as if the crowd, the blood, the excitement, everything vanished and there was a quiet stillness in him.

And it was beautiful. He was beautiful.

I realized that the anger he carried with him ate away all his beauty. Physically he had it, but this was different. This was the beauty inside him.

I released my breath as I watched him and then as if he sensed my eyes on him, he turned.

Our eyes locked, and there was an intense craving to have him next to me. I’d never had it before, but I knew what it was.

I liked him. Shit, I liked Killian Kane.

“Police!” There was a horrendous bang as the doors of the basement burst open.

I gasped, eyes widening.

Screams wrenched the air.

My eyes shot back to Killian and he mouthed, ‘Stay,’ and then he headed for us. But within seconds, the crowd swarmed him as they scrambled to get out of the basement.

“Oh, my God, Sav. Shit. My parents will kill me if I’m arrested,” Mars yelled. “We have to go.” She yanked on my hand.

“Killian. He said to stay here,” I argued, but she was already dragging me into the herd of spooked people.

“Yeah, well he doesn’t know my parents.”

She didn’t know his. I could only imagine what Mr. Kane would do if his son was arrested for being at an illegal fight. It would be the talk of the country club.

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