?

I had a fight every week that I could manage it, which was why I worked out so much. My part-time job at the Boys and Girls club teaching martial arts to the kids didn’t take up much time because it couldn’t. With my training schedule, I had to practically live in the gym. And if I was going to move up in the Andrettis ranks as fast as I wanted to, I had to keep fighting.

Until my body fucking gave out, if necessary.

“Yeah,” I said reluctantly. Something was going on Thursday, but hell if I could remember what.

Then it came to me. Carly. Always right back to frigging Carly.

She’d swapped shifts at the club, she’d said, and would now be dancing Thursday night. I hoped she changed her mind about quitting, but since she was as stubborn as two mules—like her older sister and her older sister’s boyfriend—I highly doubted it.

If I came to dinner, I was going to make sure she didn’t go anywhere near the club that night. I might not be able to control her behavior long-term, but I’d damn well exert my influence where I could.

Her women’s libber rights weren’t worth her risking her life, whether or not she realized it was on the line yet.

“Fine.” I wrapped my fingers tighter around the bar. I had a feeling I’d be working out even harder and longer today, just to try to kill my sexual frustration. And frustration, period. “I’ll come to fucking dinner.”

“Christ, don’t sound so thrilled,” Fox panted between reps.

I wasn’t thrilled. I also wasn’t going to back out.

Carly needed my protection, and she was going to get it. One way or another.

Seven

All week, I stewed. The subject of my stewing changed from hour to hour, but usually circled between the club and Gio, Gio and the club. Then there was that ridiculous check he’d offered me, and the fact that we’d had sex three incredible times after the back room incident and he hadn’t called.

All right, that was a lie. He did call, in the middle of the night Sunday night when I was dead asleep. Knowing how crafty he could be, I had to figure that had been his intention.

The voicemail he’d left had been full of contrition and concern.

I hope you’re okay. I know some people you could talk to, if you’re not doing well with what happened. If you’d like their contact info, give me a call. Take care of yourself, Carly.

Carly, not tesoro. Because he wouldn’t even throw me that bone after he’d boned me.

I didn’t care. We’d had a night together, and I wasn’t chasing after him.

Especially since that club flashback I’d had while going down on Gio had turned out to be the first of many.

I wasn’t doing well. Not at all. I jumped at shadows, and spun around every time I heard a creak. I’d gone from being a carefree teenager who tended to do stupid things to a girl who trembled when cars backfired and couldn’t watch a horror movie without every light blazing in the apartment.

It had only been days. Not even a week yet. I knew it would take time, so I was taking it. No one knew what had happened besides Gio, and he would keep it between us.

I could never, ever tell Fox or my sister. They’d want to kill me for being in the club in the first place, then Gio for his part. They’d probably go after Marco and the rest of the guys and likely get themselves killed. No way would I have their actions on my conscience.

The secret was locked inside me, where it would stay.

At least I had distractions. I had my culinary classes, and my regular shifts at the salad shop. And I had lunches with Jenna, and a workout or two at the gym—not The Cage, lest I be accused of trying to spy on Gio—plus studying. There was so much to learn. I’d thought I would be in good shape coming into the Institute, since I’d been preparing meals almost since I could talk. But nope. It was the second month of classes and I hadn’t scratched the surface at absorbing all there was to learn.

I was managing. Maybe not awesomely, and maybe a couple times I’d almost weakened enough to call Gio for the contact info for his supposedly “helpful people” just for the reassurance of hearing his deep voice. But I didn’t. I had some pride left, even if it had been dented and banged up lately.

Then my sister dropped the bomb that they were having people over for dinner Thursday night. And, oh, would I mind whipping something up quick? Nothing fancy.

Never mind I hadn’t even decided if I was going back to work at the club that night. I’d promised Nancy to take her shift, and I didn’t want to renege. I also didn’t want Marco and his buddies to think they’d sent me running with my tail tucked up where the good Lord had split me. I wasn’t a coward. They could bend me over a table and try to debase me, but they’d never break me.

In that way, I was very much my sister’s sibling. I’d fight to the death, then keep right on into the afterlife.

Even if I decided to work Nancy’s shift as promised, I’d have to come up with a good cover story for my sister. I could always use the old standby of spending the night with Jenna. She’d cover for me if for some reason Mia checked in with her, though there should be no reason for her to go that far. My sister wasn’t that overprotective. She knew I was eighteen. She didn’t like it, but she knew it.

Tags: Cari Quinn Tapped Out Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net