“Time to get up,” I tell Molly.

That’s all I have to say. My throat is dry, my voice is hoarse, and I don’t want to leave this bed. But we have to. I’m not sure how much longer I can look at Molly without going hard as slate all over again. We don’t have time for round three right now, which can quickly turn into round four after the evening we’ve had. What I need to do is put my clothes back on, get my head back in the game and make sure I have my shit together before we leave this room.

Clearing my throat, I pry my fingers from her hips and stand up. With a little fumbling, I manage to pull my jeans on, then I gather up Molly’s things and lay it on the side of the bed.

“You have somewhere to be tonight.”

“Yes. I need a quick shower,” she says, sitting up.

“You good?” I ask without making eye contact.

“I am. You’re all sorts of intense right now, Tate.”

“That’s on you.”

She sighs. “You’re the one who made me say…it.”

“I’ll wait downstairs,” I tell her and head out the door in a hurry, even though she’s right.

* * *

Fuck. My riding has taken a hit tonight. I use the oncoming lane to speed past a tractor-trailer. I’ve done this countless times before on the same stretch of highway. It’s second nature. But not today. I swerve too hard into the right lane to avoid an approaching car and almost wipe out. Molly’s arms tighten around my waist, the reminder that I have someone else to worry about, not just myself.

I just hope she won’t raise what happened. Ever. This isn’t the first day I’ve wanted to claim her. I’ve gotten close before, never this far. And what’s worse is the way her coerced admission tightened up my chest and squeezed all the air out of my lungs.

The devil made me do it.

Yeah, I guess that can work if I’m ever cornered.

I was acting on instinct.

But that won’t stop what’s going on in my chest, the proof that I want more, even though people like me aren’t meant to go down this road.

God, the universe, multi-generational karma, bad luck, whatever people want to call it, didn’t think I deserved to be raised with love like a normal kid. I barely remember my mother before she died. I don’t even have a picture of her face. That sort of shit fucks with a person’s head. After she passed, I didn’t get sloppy seconds with the foster family that the state put me to live with. Or the next foster home. Or the next. So how am I supposed to do a one-eighty and believe love belongs in my life when it was never there?

But keeping Molly distracted with freaky sex won’t work forever.

My guess is she’ll eventually figure it out and bail fast.

Hopefully before my gut falls in line with my brain. If that happens, it’s only a matter of time before I run in the other fucking direction, as far away from these complicated feelings as possible.

I make it to North Las Vegas off-ramp to her job before long. Slowing down, I grip the handlebars and steer off the highway. I park behind the converted warehouse soon afterward, and Molly climbs off and heads toward the entrance. If I can calm the fuck down, the simple plan to get the fuck away and fast wouldn’t be the only thought on my mind. Shoving my keys into my front pocket, I follow her inside. This is still a paid gig. Her safety is my responsibility.

The woman I can’t get enough of isn’t getting messed with on my watch.

“You think we’ll have a problem with Jett in there?” Molly asks as we wait to be let in the employee entrance. She trails her fingers down my leather cut near the middle of my back.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I answer. Then I blurt out, “I know you think you’re tough as nails, but I’m surprised you choose to work here with all that education under your belt.”

“You want to go there? I can still kick your ass.” She raises her fists and gets into a boxing stance. “Bring it.”

“We’ve sparred before, Moll. I know what you’re bringing to the table. I don’t need a recap.”

Molly continues to bounce on the balls of her feet. Her eyes narrow. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I cock my head to one side. “Talk to me after I get you out of that place without an incident with your ex.”

“Chicken shit,” she shouts, daring me.

I’m not falling for it. “Look, you patch up the bitches, and I’ll do my job and protect your ass from a fucking psycho. Besides, it’s not easy sparring with you when I have a boner the size of Texas.”

“Yeah, right,” she teases, turning her gaze downward to check.

“Don’t fucking tempt me or I’ll take you right up against this wall.”

That quiets her down. When the staff entrance bouncer finally shows up, I cradle her elbow and guide her into the warehouse.

She points out a room with a first aid sign on the door. “This is where I’ll be between fights.”

“Okay.”

She takes out a small over the shoulder first aid kit from her medical bag and leaves everything else in the room. “Let’s go. I’m supposed to be ringside in five.”

In the main fighting area, Molly goes over to the organizer, a five foot nothing shady-looking sleazebag of a guy. I take a quick look around. Beyond the fluorescent lights of the ring, the place is dark, dirty, dingy and outdated. A loud as fuck shithole filled with men and women, screaming and shouting although no one is fighting in the ring yet. I cough from the scent of stale cigarette smoke hanging in the air. And something’s burning in frying oil. The idea that they might serve food in a dump like this screws with my iron stomach.

A slight headache presses against my temples. With four exits and a crowd too large for the space, it’ll be near impossible to manage all the risks. The only way for me to keep an eye on her is by staying at her side the entire time. Which means I have to be ready if anyone tries to approach us from behind.

It’s chaos.

There are definitely some bikers in the crowd too. I see patches belonging to Satan’s Saints, Los Diablos, and a few Mongols around. On a regular day I’d eat this up for breakfast and ask for seconds, but as a bodyguard, shit just got a fuck ton harder. Everywhere I look, there are spots and nooks for someone like Jett to hide in plain sight, which is no help at all.

A match starts as I catch sight of Molly standing ringside, so I head over to her through the dense crowd. Her eyes are glued to the fight already going down.

“Can you do your nursing stuff in the first aid room tonight?” I shout across to her, but it’s not near loud enough. I get closer, close enough to smell the fruity body wash she showered with, and ask her again.

“Can’t,” she answers, shrugging me off without a second thought or backward glance, and shoves off the throng of people crowding the ring. Her makeshift nurse’s station is a spot on the bench filled with female fighters waiting for their turn in the ring. I knew this job wasn’t going to be a cake walk, but for all I know, this Jett motherfucker could be a few feet away, watching and waiting for an opening. Knowing that’s a possibility, I stand directly behind her, dwarfing her tiny frame. When she senses me there, she leans back into me pressing up against me from her hips to her shoulders like the temptress that she is.

Then she turns and glares up at me. “Can you focus when I’m doing that? Because I can’t do my job either, if you’re on my like white on bread.”

“I’ll have to make do,” I tell her frankly. “The place is packed, and your stalker friend can make an appearance anytime, if he isn’t already right under our noses. You get to stick to my hip until I tell you to do otherwise, got it?”

Molly rolls her eyes. “I have a job to do.”

“Same here.”

“For fuck’s sake, Tate,” she shouts. “I still have to work here. You can watch my back from six feet away…as in get the hell over there and give me some breathing room.”

I’m not about to leave her on her own, but the organizer waves her over to the cordoned off section beside the steps leading up to the ring. One of the women from the first fight is hit so hard in the face, she’s cut above her eye and is bleeding everywhere. The blood covers half her face. When it starts to look like the bleeding won’t stop, the referee calls the game in the other fighter’s favor.

Another bell goes off in the ring, signaling another fight as Molly pulls supplies from her over the shoulder bag. She works with clear expertise and confidence as she swabs and dabs and cleans up the female boxer covered in blood. She crouches down and speaks to the woman as she works. From where I’m standing, I can’t make out their conversation, but my guess is she has a protocol for verbally assessing possible concussions. It’s clear to me that Molly knows what she’s doing.

After a few fights, someone taps me on the shoulder. My gaze flicks back. I’m not interested in having anyone take my focus off of my job.

“What’s up?” I ask without looking around, but glance down when the persons’ fingers trail around my upper arm. A petite, red-headed ring bunny looks up at me, wearing next to nothing in a bare it all bikini.

“Hi,” she says to me.

“You need something?”

She blinks up at me. Her bright smile wavers. “You don’t remember me?”

I look closely. “Sorry I can’t say that I do.”

“We did that session at the Sobrevivir Club about a year ago?” She raises her hands over her head and touches her wrists together. “Remember the red ribbons?”

I vaguely remember, but does she really expect me to remember her from a year back? I used to pay regular visit to that sex club. Maybe I did a bit of bondage play with this redhead but that was ages ago, a long time before Molly and I started hooking up.

I scratch my head. “Oh, okay. Nice seeing you.”

“I have my break now, and you looked like you might be bored. Want some company? Maybe we could meet up in the back?”

Her fingers brush the front of my cut, gliding down my chest and pulling at the top of my jeans. This forwardness isn’t a first, but I’m reminded yet again that I don’t feel the slightest interest in taking up a random sexy stranger on an offer for a quick fuck. Before Molly, I would already be out the door with this ginger’s skinny ass, shoving those bikini bottoms to the side for a one and done. Tonight, I’m not interested.

Shit.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m actually working.”

“Rain check?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I say to get her to stop distracting me.

“Okay!” she chirps, brightening up that hope is still alive. “You come around here often?”

“No.”

“I don’t normally do this, but I had fun that night. We should hook up again.”

“Sure,” I say, but I only want Molly. Which tells me that something is fucking wrong with me. That last bone I throw the redhead’s way must do the trick. She waves her hand in my line of sight and eventually goes away with a smile on her face.

I notice Molly organizing her bag while she speaks with the organizer. The idiot motions her toward the ring and shoves a pair of gloves into her arms. Uh, no. Molly can’t be thinking she’ll fight. Not tonight, or anytime soon.

I push past people in the crowd, step over the roped off area beside the steps, and put a hand on her shoulder. “What the hell’s going on, Moll?”

The organizer has the nerve to step up to me. “Do we have a problem over here?”

Molly shakes her head and waves off the little guy. “No. We don’t have a problem at all. Just give me a second.” She turns to face me and smiles up at me. “I’m going into that ring. You’re not going to stop me,” she announces.

“You’re not getting in that ring. Forget about it.”

“I already agreed to the fight.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Who’s gonna stop me? You?”

“If I have to, yes,” I tell her.

She seems to soften at the firmness in my tone and stern look on my face. “I just need to blow off a little steam. Go on back to keeping an eye on me. I’ll be fine in there.”

“Give the guy those gloves back.”

She shakes her head.

“Do we need to have another chat about Jett, or do you want to know what it’ll feel like to have me throw you over my shoulder to get you the hell out of that ring?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything. I’m filling in for a no-show.” She tries to pry herself away from me, but I rest both hands on her shoulders. I’m not letting her move another inch. “Come on, this fight’s a no-brainer. Do you know how much money is on the line? Plus, I can take her. You’ve seen all the girls who’ve gone up so far. It’ll be over in the first round.”

“No. Fucking. Way. Not on my watch. You’re not getting in that ring to get your ass kicked, or to advertise to Jett that you’re here, if he’s around.”

“I won’t lose.”

“I get that you believe you can take on anyone who steps into the ring with you. That’s not the fucking point. I need to do my job.”

“You can do your job while I fight.”

“It’s not up for discussion. You’re not getting in that ring. Keep it up, and I’ll seriously throw you over my shoulder caveman style, if that’s what it takes to get you out of this hellhole. If you’re not doing the nursing gig, you don’t need to be here.”

“We didn’t hire you to stop me from earning a living,” she shrieks. “Do your job.”

She wrenches out of my grip, pushes me backward, and runs up the steps into the fucking ring. I try to follow her, but meatheads appear with the organizer. While I’m busy with them, I see Molly strip off her clothes to reveal the same tiny matching short-shorts with a bikini top that the other fighters have been wearing all night.

She’s been planning this all along.

She leans over the ropes and reaches her hand out to mine. “So, I fight here sometimes. I probably should’ve mentioned that.”

I look behind her at the shadow of a figure she’ll fight. The crowd erupts, cheering their asses off when her opponent steps into the middle of the ring. The woman’s a fucking giant. She’s probably taller than me and twice my width.

“Are you fucking nuts? You’re fighting her? She’ll annihilate you in there.”

“I’m doing this.”

“Step out before you get yourself killed. Right now!

“I beat you, Tate. I can take on this bitch,” she says.

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Do me a favor and go back to the first aid room for my bag, will you?” she asks as the girl with the clipboard steps into the ring and pops a mouth guard over her teeth.

This fight can only end one way.

Bad. Very bad for Molly.