Maybe it wasn't the most inspired of plans but cut me some slack I was thinking on-the-fly. So basically, from what I knew of men in this particular field, they were relatively simple.

Food. Sex. Train.

I couldn't do much about the training aspect but I could certainly appeal to his gut and his sex drive.

First, every fighter I knew ate gobs of protein and washed it down with water and coffee.

So while he was in the shower I hustled down the street to the small corner store and bought what I could to make a decent breakfast.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn’t Betty Crocker by any means but I knew how to throw a few things together.

You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to fry up some eggs and bacon.

I returned to the small apartment with the bag of groceries and ignored the odd leap in my stomach when I saw Damon standing there with nothing but a threadbare towel wrapped around his chiseled midsection.

"I… I bought breakfast." I managed to stammer, pulling myself together. "I thought you might be hungry."

But his expression was neither happy nor grateful, In fact, he looked annoyed.

So much for appealing to his gut.

His gaze bounced to the bag of groceries and his expression hardened.

"Look, don't get comfortable playing house. I'm not interested in whatever you're selling, honey. For reasons I haven't quite figured out yet, I put my nose in business that wasn't mine. So don't go thinking that I'm your knight in shining armor, because I'm the furthest thing from it. You can treat me like a king but that don't mean you're my queen. You belong to Davonte and I aim to see that you go back to him."

What a piece of shit. My disillusionment hit me hard. He was no different than most of the douchebag losers in this town, looking to use their fists to make them famous. Stupid sheep, all of them.

I dropped the bag on the counter, a muffled crunch told me the eggs had broken but I didn’t care.

No sense in playing the demure, little flower if the lug wasn’t going to play his part.

My tone held all the contempt I felt for men like him. “You're an idiot if you think you can waltz into Davonte’s office as if all is forgiven just because you throw me at his feet. If you think that he will forgive you, you're dumber than most."

I wasn’t pulling any punches. The man was a card-carrying idiot if he thought Davonte was going to shake his hand and pat him on the head after Damon had knocked his lights out.

That kind of disrespect was the killing kind.

And I knew Davonte didn’t have any qualms with dropping dead weight in the river, never to be seen again.

Although, Davonte would need four cinder blocks to weigh down someone as big as Damon, just saying.

But Damon didn’t even flinch. “That may be true but something tells me that he wants you bad. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to fix the damage.”

“Anything?” I sneered, my rage driving me to the lowest point I could go. “Funny, you didn’t even trip my gay-dar. I guess you’re pretty good at hiding the fact that you’re a tonsil-juggler.”

His face turned a florid shade of red. “I’m not fucking gay. I’m not sucking anyone’s dick.”

“Not even Davonte’s?” I threw back with a sweet smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I don’t know, I’ve heard he can be very generous if he likes you. Tell me, are all those muscles some kind of compensation for a lack of equipment elsewhere?”

In a sharp motion, Damon knocked the bag to the floor with a swipe of his hand. I yelped and jumped back but not before he managed to grab my arm in his meathooks, his fingers digging into my flesh.

“You’ve got a nasty streak for such a pretty mouth,” he growled, his gaze raking me up and down. I shivered against the open perusal. “I’m sure Davonte will put it to good use.”

“You’re a bastard,” I hissed, glaring up at Damon. “Do you have any idea what he plans to do to me?”

“Not my problem, princess.”

“Wrong. It’s your problem now because for whatever reasons, you stuck your fists in my business. Davonte is going to have you sliced and diced before lunch, I can promise you that.”

I wasn’t lying for effect. Davonte was a crazy, narcissistic sociopath. He didn’t suffer rejection, nor disrespect in any way.

Damon was as good as dead if he didn’t pull his head out of his ass and listen to me.

“You’re hurting me,” I said from between gritted teeth. I probably looked like a possum baring its fangs, ready to sink into flesh. “Let me go.”

But he didn’t.

Instead, he drew me closer and I sucked in a shocked breath, my eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

Then, he sniffed me.

What the…?

I shuddered at the low growl that seemed involuntary. The half-mast of his lids, the sudden parting of his lips caused my stomach to tremble.

And not with fear, exactly.

But just as the moment stretched between us, the inexplicable heat building, he released me abruptly with a terse order. “Stay put. I’m going to get dressed and then we’re leaving.”

I released the pent-up air in my lungs, gasping as if I’d been deep-sea diving.

Fuck that, I thought, shaking. Fuuuuuck that.

If he thought I was going to sit like an obedient puppy so that he could take me to my death, his head was filled with rocks.

But the very thought must've flashed through his own pea brain because he stopped and turned, eyeing me warily. “Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way? Because I don't have any qualms with delivering you trussed up like a Christmas turkey."

And if the gleam in his eye was any indication, he rather liked the idea of me tied up, helpless.

Inside, I quailed but I wasn’t about to show weakness. I jutted my chin with all the stubbornness of my Scottish heritage and fairly spat back at him, “I’m not going back to Davonte so go fuck yourself.”

“Yes, you are."

I grabbed a pocketknife lying on the counter and clicked it open, the blade glinting in the morning sun. “Go ahead and try, see what happens,” I hissed, white-knuckling the knife. “I won’t go down without a fight.”

If he had no qualms with delivering me to that bastard, I had no problem with cutting him like a pig.

I grinned with malice. “So what's it going to be?”

I never expected a man of his size to move so quickly.

Maybe I thought the towel would slow him down.

Maybe I thought a guy built like a brick wall would lumber like a bear, not sprint like a jaguar.

But fuck, it happened so fast, I didn’t even know how it’d gone down until the knife was squeezed out of my hand and he’d thrown me over his beefy shoulder.

His towel dropped to the floor and forgotten, my face was dangerously close to that firm, muscled ass as he strode into the bedroom. His skin smelled masculine and spicy, a scent that made my body soften against my will.

I bit back a cry as he tossed me to the bed roughly.

He stood there, naked as a jaybird, his cock bouncing as it hardened. I averted my gaze as my cheeks flushed with embarassment.

“You belong to Davonte. Best get right with that and just accept it because otherwise, you’re in for a world of hurt,” he said flatly as if he wasn’t signing my death warrant, too.

“I don’t belong to any man,” I shot back, fighting the tears that threatened. “I’d rather die than let that asshole between my legs.”

Something flashed behind his eyes but it was gone before I could question.

“Don’t move.”

Fear of another sort snaked into my brain. “Don’t touch me,” I said, the tremble in my voice genuine. “I swear I’ll turn you into a eunuch if you try.”

The disgusted look on his face was an unexpected slap. “Girl, that pussy ain’t fine enough to risk my life over. Get over yourself. I ain’t like most men who see a pair of big tits and lose their fucking mind over the idea of sticking my dick between them.”

“You’re lewd and disgusting,” I said, scrambling away, putting as much distance between us as I could. “No wonder you’re alone. I can’t imagine any woman putting up with you for longer than it took to listen to two words falling from your mouth.”

“Talk is overrated,” he said by way of a grunt as he jerked his jeans on, tucking his cock behind the fly without benefit of underwear.

Damon grabbed the nearest shirt and sweatshirt and within seconds he was dressed. His curt gesture told me it was time to go.

“He’ll put a bullet in your brain the minute you step into his office,” I said, desperate to drill some sense into the big idiot. “Do you have a death wish? Davonte doesn’t forgive and you broke his fucking nose. What do you think he’s going to do to you for that insult? Take you out for dinner?”

I knew my words gave Damon pause, probably because he’d wondered the same, but he seemed stubbornly stuck on track. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing my hand and yanking me toward the door.

I screeched and tried to pull away but it was like trying to free my arm from an alligator once it’d clamped down.

“What kind of man are you?” I demanded, struggling as he dragged me toward the door. “You would knowingly take a woman to a man who planned to rape and God-only-knows-what to her? Where’s your fucking conscience?”

“A conscience is a liability in my line of work.”

I stomped on his insole but his grip didn’t loosen, if anything, he tightened his grasp around my wrist until I thought my bones might crack. I bit back tears, refusing to cry out. “You’re a monster, just like Davonte,” I managed to say before he shoved me out the front door, his hulking mass right behind me.

“Yeah, well, a guy’s gotta make a living,” was all he had to say.

And I knew I was screwed if I didn’t get away because this mother fucker was right — he was no hero and I was a fool to think otherwise.

Risking everything, I kicked him as hard as I could right in the nuts.

“Fuck!” He grunted as he doubled over, giving me a hair’s breadth of time to run like my life depended on it — because it did.

Even though he’d proven he was fast, the need for air worked in my favor as he dropped to his knees, cradling his nuts, sucking oxygen.

I flew down the street, putting distance between myself and that muscle-bound idiot.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t stop until I was blocks away and my lungs threatened to cave in.

Survival mode was officially switched on.