Playing with Fire

Fuck, I missed That Taco Truck’s food.

“I’m not against you soiling yourself if it means it’d stop the fight,” East gritted.

“Nothing will stop this fight,” I said flatly. “And don’t you fucking try.”

“Why is it so important to you?” Reign crouched beside me. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but you ain’t gonna win this, not in your sorry ass state. Damn, I could put you against a cheerleader right now and you’d still lose.”

“A dead cheerleader,” Max pointed out helpfully.

“I don’t lay a hand on chicks,” I murmured. Unlike that idiot Appleton.

“It’d never come to that. You’d confuse her for a cardboard box before she throws the first punch.” Reign clapped my shoulder reassuringly.

Sometime later—an hour, a week, a freaking minute, I wasn’t sure—Max clapped his hands together and announced, “Okay, the moment of truth has arrived. I can’t postpone this any longer. I’m an event organizer, not a magician.”

“You’re a class-A cunt, and you’ll be paying for tricking him into a fight he can’t back out of.” Easton bared his teeth, offering me a hand. Max visibly winced. Reluctantly, I let Easton hoist me up to my feet. I glanced at the stairway leading up to the ring, as footfalls pounded on the concrete.

“Hey.” Tess put her hand on my chest. I slapped it away. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to the person who’d made this shit snowball into a fucking storm.

“Hands off, Tess.”

“I’m sorry, okay? Look at me.” She bracketed my cheeks.

Even through my state of drunkenness—which was a goddamn lot—I could still see the regret swimming in her eyes.

“I never thought it would go down this way. I was bitter and jealous and couldn’t understand why Grace was getting every single thing I’d wished for myself. I wanted a little crisis, not a full-blown catastrophe.”

I grabbed her wrists, shoving her hands away. “Sorry my tragedy is not tailor-made for your ass.”

I turned around, about to go upstairs and get the fight over with, when my pecs collided with someone else’s.

I looked down.

Appleton.

He was sweaty and bare-chested, his face smeared with enough Vaseline to lather the Statue of Liberty.

“St. Claire. Heard you have a girlfriend and that she is into … toast.”

He oinked out a rancid laugh, showing off his crooked teeth as he pushed me. Shaun and another clown from his team stood on either side of him, cackling evilly.

Not that I expected anything better from three people with the combined IQ of twelve, but I found myself unable to resist throwing a punch square to his nose, making him tumble backwards as blood shot out of his nostrils in two thick streams.

“Dafuq!” Appleton whined, pinching the bridge of his nose. He waved a hand in my face. “He is doing it again. Getting a few punches in before the bell rings.”

“You sent people to my workplace, asshole.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“I can prove that I can kill you.” I bared my teeth.

“All because of a chick.” He tsked, blood dribbling down his chin. “Talk about pussy-whipped.”

I was about to correct him in saying that Grace wasn’t my girl—not anymore, anyway—but held back. It was part of the reason why Grace had always had her doubts. I never owned up to our relationship. Never held her hand in public. Kissed her when everyone was watching. Showed the world how I felt about this girl.

I also knew that Kade Appleton wasn’t going to leave Grace alone. That sooner or later, he was going to get to her, because she was linked to me, and I was a sore subject for him.

Unless …

Unless I lost. Monumentally. Unless I had my ass handed to me in the ring. Unless I threw the fight. It was all clear now.

Everyone had a phoenix moment.

This one was mine.

I started for the stairs, breezing past Appleton.

“C’mon. Let’s get this shit show over with.”

He chased me, leaving a trail of scarlet drops in his wake. I stormed into the makeshift ring, pushing through the dense, rabid crowd. Appleton followed closely. Behind us, Shaun, Max, East, Reign, and Tess were trying to keep up with our pace.

I turned around to face him. “Come at me.”

I knew I wasn’t going to win.

Wasn’t going to let myself win.

I’d never thrown a fight in my life, but for Grace Shaw, I was willing to bite the bullet.

Max looked between us, uncertain. I was still far from the realm of sober, but dangerous nonetheless.

“Ready?” Max asked.

“Hell yeah.”

I zeroed in on Appleton, pretending to give a shit about what was going to happen next.

It was showtime.

I only remembered fragments of the fight.

Appleton throwing a sucker punch to my jaw, sending me flying and crashing over a pile of wooden boxes.

Pretending to try to dodge him as he directed a roundhouse kick straight to my abs.

Appleton elbowing my side. The sudden gush of pain when I realized he’d managed to fracture a rib or two.