Anna

“I’m so sorry,” Jenna said softly.

I was standing outside of the hospital after having visited Abby with Jenna, Chloe, and Conor.

“We should have told you the truth about Abby as soon as you mentioned seeing her. I mean, we weren’t certain it was her, but still—”

“This is my fault,” Conor interrupted. “Abby and I were dating, and I broke up with her. She stopped coming after that.”

“You can’t blame yourself, Conor.” Chloe was so young but so smart. “Let’s just make a promise that we’ll always keep an eye out for each other.” Chloe’s eyes flashed my way. “And we’ll keep an eye on you, too, Anna.”

My heart was about to fracture at that moment. “I let you all down,” I confessed. “I’m the adult, and I should have gone directly to Adam. I got distracted—”

“Miss Drake, stop!” Jenna folded her arms and faked a scowl my way. “At least you noticed her. Most people wouldn’t.”

She sounded like Adam.

But just because I’d noticed her, that didn’t give me an excuse for having forgotten her in the first place.

I’d messed up. Big time.

“Not true,” I answered. “And don’t call me Miss Drake. Makes me feel a lot older than twenty-four!”

“Wow. That is old,” Chloe said, allowing the first smile of the evening to slip to her lips.

“At least you’re here,” Jenna whispered, her eyes growing dark. “And that counts for more than you know.”

Chloe and Jenna flung their arms around me, and then Conor joined in on the hug.

Oh God . . . how would I ever leave Ireland?

* * *

“You guys ready to experience something totally savage?” Rick waggled his brows as he rubbed his palms together. Narisa, Kate, Craig, and I were standing out on the sidewalk. The air was much colder than it had been last night. I wasn’t sure if I’d made a colossal mistake in coming tonight. Was I crazy to trust Rick again after he brought us to that horrible bar last night?

My purse vibrated, and I slipped my hand inside. As the group started down the sidewalk, allowing Rick to lead us to the unknown, I looked down at my phone.

I miss you, baby. Why won’t you forgive me? Please, please forgive me. I love you.

How many times had Jax said those words to me? Moments after his icy fingers had detached from my neck, he’d apologized and begged for my forgiveness. But by then I had realized . . . his “I love yous” had no meaning.

And I was stronger now. The distance between us had given me even more clarity, and the way Adam treated me was a reminder that there were good guys out there. Maybe Adam wouldn’t be the one for me, but at least I knew that not all men were abusive—not all men raised their fists.

“You coming, Anna?” I looked up to see Narisa heading back to me. Everyone else had made it all the way down the block.

“Um. Yeah.” I stowed away my phone. “Did Rick tell you what tonight is all about?” I asked as Narisa and I trailed behind the others.

“Rick just said that his brother knows of some secret spot that is always rotating from place to place. I assume it’s a club or something,” she answered.

“Oh.” The same brother who worked at the bar last night? I could only imagine what we were getting ourselves into.

“It’s just ahead.” Rick pointed to a building tucked away at the end of the street. It looked like a condemned factory building, with boarded windows, bricks lying in piles out front, faded paint, and no sign.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Kate rubbed her hands over her black leather jacket as we stopped in front of a massive brown door.

“This is the place. I promise.” Rick reached for the handle.

As the door creaked open, I took a cautious step back. “You sure about this?”

Rick nodded, his eyes gleaming like a schoolboy’s.

I had a bad feeling.

Strike that—I had a gut wrenching, gaping hole in my stomach.

Yet, I followed Rick into the building. A faint roar of sound filtered up from beneath the floor as we walked down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. Were we stepping onto the set of a horror film?

The noise grew louder, but it wasn’t music. It was people—cheering and yelling.

“Just down these steps and we’re in.” Rick pointed to a stairwell.

“No secret password?” Kate crossed her arms, scowling at Rick. Even the easygoing Kate looked nervous—if she was scared, what should I be?

“Apparently, there’s no need. This place is only known to a select few.” Rick waved his hand at us girls, who were huddled together like he might be leading us somewhere to have our bodies hacked into little pieces.

“Sounds like more than a few,” Narisa quipped before we began down the set of wooden stairs, which were lit only by a soft glow at the bottom.

Rick opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and a cold chill brushed across my face. My body grew stiff.

“What the hell?” Craig looked as surprised as I did when we entered a room filled to the max with people. It took me a minute to get my bearings. There were so many people, and they all appeared to be crowding around something in the middle of the room.

“What is this place?” Kate yelled at Rick as we were shoved and elbowed by the crowd. We squeezed tighter together as people brushed past us, moving toward the center of the room.

“It’s an underground fight club.” He smirked, and Narisa slapped his arm. Then her chest slammed against Rick’s as some guy with tattoos spiraling down both his naked arms bumped into her.

“You’re for real?” Narisa gasped, and my stomach turned.

No. God, no. Fighting was the last thing I wanted to see. “Why would you take us here?” I asked, panicked. I looked back around for the door that we’d come through, but several layers of people now stood between us and the door.

Rick probably couldn’t hear me over the noise.

There was a man holding a microphone at the center of the room inside a tall, angular cage. He was shouting something, but I could barely hear what he was saying.

I’d seen the movie Fight Club, but this looked more intense. A lot more organized, for one thing. And I didn’t anticipate I’d see Brad Pitt anywhere down here.

The guy at the mic, well, his voice was too accented for me to quite understand. The slang words were coming out so rapidly they started to blend with the murmurs and shouts of the crowd surrounding me. Not that I cared what he said. At this moment, all I cared about was getting the hell out of there.

I’d lost contact with my friends. I glanced around, seeking them out, but I was surrounded by men. On one side was a gentleman in a well-tailored suit that screamed money, and the other seemed to have stepped out of a catalog that sold athletic and biker wear. Every inch of skin covered in ink.

I spotted the group and shot my hand up in the air as I was scuttled around. I pushed and shoved, making my way to the center. I wanted to go the opposite direction more than anything, but I was also afraid to be alone.

As I neared my friends (although Rick was about to be booted to the enemy column after this stunt), I heard the people around the room begin to chant, “McGregor! McGregor!”

Well. It was a common name, right?

I looked closely at the ring and at the man whose back was to me as he squared off with another fighter. The tattoo on his back drew my eye, and all the blood rushed from my face. Adam? No! God, no!

“Holy shit,” I think Kate shouted, but I couldn’t be certain. It was hard to hear anything except for the pounding of my heart. It seemed to throb in my ears.

I wanted to leave, to run, and yet, I didn’t. It’s like my mind was trying to process what I was seeing as the crowd pushed me closer to the cage.

The guy fighting Adam was a tall redhead, but not nearly as well muscled as Adam. He had a slight bit of fat on his stomach, and he sported love handles. Adam was certainly more fit, but his opponent was so big. I wasn’t sure what would happen.

The man swung his arm at Adam’s core, but Adam deflected the shot with his left arm while knocking the guy in the chin with a hard uppercut. I remembered that move from my self-defense class, although it never looked quite like that.

Jax. I snapped my eyes shut as I remembered Jax’s raised fist. The memories hit me like fresh wounds. Jax was why I had taken self-defense lessons. And somehow, here I was in Ireland watching another man use his hands—the mark of violence.

But why was Adam doing this?

I slowly peeled open my eyes, flinching, as if I’d been hit by the fighter as he connected his right shin to Adam’s side. Adam took a slight step back and lowered his arms, shaking them out for a second. He then raised his hands, cloaked by black gloves, snapping them back into a guard in front of his face.

I inched even closer to the cage, my eyes widening as I observed Adam. I noted the way the muscles in his body were taut—his jaw strained. A slight sheen of sweat was on his spine and forehead.

But his eyes. Oh God, his eyes . . . my skin crawled with chills at the gleaming and dark look there as Adam circled his opponent.

I’d never seen the fierce look in Adam’s eyes before. It was as if he weren’t the same man I had come to know.

I gasped as Adam sprung forward. His arm reached out, which had me slapping a hand to my mouth as fear curled inside my chest.

Adam’s hand slammed hard into the guy’s cheek, and the people around me started screaming, growing wild as the redhead fell back and smacked loud against the ground.

He was out—cold. And I was going to be sick.

I stumbled a step back, bumping into someone as Adam knelt down next to the redhead and placed a hand on his shoulder. He was saying something to the fighter—and then Adam looked up as if he sensed me. His eyes landed on mine, and he held onto me for a few moments, not moving or speaking.

I sucked in a breath of stale air, my body now trembling. I needed to get out of there.

I turned away, breaking from Adam’s eyes, even though it nearly destroyed me. “Please, move,” I cried, knowing no one could hear me. Still, I fought against the crowd, trying to ignore the reaching hands of men who groped me as I barreled through them.

It took me a minute or two, but I found my way to the stairs and tore out of the building. Once outside, I bent forward, pressing my hands to my knees, trying to catch my breath.

Adam was a fighter. What the hell!

The signs had been almost obvious. How could I have missed them? Bruised knuckles, the cut and bruise by his eye. The way his fists locked at his sides when someone upset him. The guys from outside Les’s apartment . . . even they had looked like fighters.

I flung a hand to my chest, trying to control my emotions. I didn’t want to cry.

I refused to cry.

I took off, thankful I’d worn flat-soled boots. I practically threw myself inside the first taxi that came into view.

My phone vibrated as the cab drove.

Was that really our boss in the ring? It was a message from Kate.

I glared at the message for a solid minute before shoving the phone back into my purse. I didn’t know what to say to her. I didn’t even know what to think.

By the time I had made it safe inside my hotel room, I was starting to feel surprised that Adam hadn’t once called or texted me.

I bit my lip, looking around my hotel room, trying to think about what to do. My hands trembled, and my heart was still racing like the hooves of a horse.

I rushed into the bathroom and peeled off my clothes. I turned on the shower and stepped inside, not waiting for the water to warm.

The freezing water cascaded over me like rain. My mascara burned my eyes, and then I felt the taste of it on my lips. I sank to a crouching position, wrapping my arms around my knees.

Jax. Adam. They weren’t the same people, but . . .

My mind flooded with images of both men. I tried to separate the two in my head, but they kept merging into something ugly and evil.

“No,” I cried and rose to my feet a few minutes later. I pressed my palms to the shower wall and hung my head.

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed in the shower, but when I stepped out, my fingers were like prunes and my face was a hot mess. The mascara had become like strips of icky black tar etched into my skin.

It was then that I cried.

I remembered standing in front of a mirror after Jax had hurt me, my mascara running, my face drowning in tears.

Angry at both Jax and Adam—angry at myself—I turned on the sink and began fiercely scrubbing away the evidence of my tears.

I wouldn’t be a victim anymore.

I was done with that.

But as I stared at my skin, fresh and pink from the rubbing I’d given it, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to Adam than the urge to fight.

“Anna?”

I lowered my head at the sound of his voice. I’d given him the second key to my hotel room on Wednesday.

My gaze flickered to the white hotel robe on the back of the door. I grabbed it and threw it on, then braced my hand against the door, trying to figure out how I’d face him.

“Anna, can we talk?” His Irish voice was soft, pleading.

As much as I wanted to cower in the bathroom, I knew I needed to look him in the eyes when he finally delivered the truth.

I stepped back and opened the door to find Adam sitting on my bed. His hands were clasped together, and his head was bowed. He was in sweats and a hoodie. I’d seen him similarly dressed two weeks ago on the night he’d come to my room with a cut above his eye. He must have been in a fight that night, too.

“What were you doing there?” He looked up at me. This time, there was not a mark on his perfect face. The fight had probably lasted no more than sixty seconds.

I crossed my arms and stood firm a few feet away. “That’s the first thing you’re going to say to me? Really?”

He rubbed a hand over his face and kept it over his mouth for a moment. When he stood up and started for me, I took an immediate step back, my hand outstretched between us.

Adam cocked his head. “Are you afraid of me?” He backed up, cupping his neck as a prickle of guilt wrapped around my spine.

“I don’t know what I am, but I didn’t expect—”

“I told you I was dangerous, that you shouldn’t get involved with me. I warned you.” Adam’s blue eyes devoured mine—pain reflecting off his irises. “I’m a fighter.” He pressed a fist to his heart. “But I’d never lay a hand on you,” he rasped.

And as I stared at the man before me, I realized that I believed him. At least, I wanted to believe him. But I’d never thought Jax was someone who could hit a woman, either. I wasn’t the best judge of character.

“Why do you do it? You run a billion-dollar corporation.” I leaned against the wall outside the bathroom door, needing the support to remain standing.

Adam sat back on the bed, propping his elbows on his knees. “I stopped fighting five years ago. But Les got into some trouble, as you know, and he made a bet on a fight. And he not only lost the fight and the money, but he wound up in the hospital.”

“So how does this involve you? If he’s your friend, couldn’t you front him the money?” That was reasonable—more reasonable than cage fighting. Wasn’t it?

“When I used to fight, I made a lot of money for the people who ran the fights. I was undefeated.”

The muscles in my body screwed tight, and my stomach was tied in knots with anticipation. With fear.

“The guy Les recently fought is also undefeated. And this arsehole, Donovan, who runs half of Dublin thought it’d be grand if I fought to repay Les’s debt.” He patted his thighs and rose, his hand back on his jaw, black stubble beneath his fingertips. “He wouldn’t take the money I offered, and he threatened Les’s life if I refused to fight.”

It took me a few minutes to process what he’d said to me. “I have so many questions that I don’t even know where to begin.” If Leslie had never gotten hurt, I’d probably never have gotten to know Adam. I wasn’t sure what to make of that revelation. “So was that it, the fight? Are you done?” I laced my fingers through my hair then pushed it to my back as I struggled to maintain control of my nerves. “Is that guy okay? You hit him pretty hard.”

“I can’t believe you saw that. I’m so bloody mortified.” He tucked his chin to his chest. “I never wanted you to find out this way. I don’t know what the hell you were doing there. Please, for the love of God, don’t ever go near one of those places again. It’s not safe.” He lifted his head, and his eyes found mine again as my nails bit into my palms.

“It was genius Rick’s idea. I didn’t know where we were going until it was too late. Believe me, watching a fight is not my idea of a good time.” He should know that.

I guessed I should have let him come clean about his life. I’d never have ended up at the fight tonight if I had.

“So?” I waited for my answers, impatience burning through me like fire on the short wick of a candle.

“The main event is in November. The fight tonight was sort of practice for me. And, yes, my opponent is okay. I waited until I knew he was okay before I left to find you. He’s probably just got a broken nose.”

Just a broken nose! “So you’re beating up other guys for practice?” I sat down on the bed, my knees tingling, my legs going weak. I looked up at Adam as he took my old position of leaning against the wall in front of me. “You’re a billionaire. Don’t you have enough money a hundred times over to pay this guy to leave you and Leslie alone? And, speaking of that, how’d you get into underground fighting? I’ve seen the UFC stuff on TV—my older brother used to watch it. Those guys do it for the money. What’s your excuse?”

“I told you that this guy, Donovan, didn’t want my money. He has a reputation he cares about, and he also likes the idea of drawing his biggest fighting crowd to date. There’s some publicity you just can’t buy.” He shrugged as if that would satiate my need for answers.

“And my other questions?” I folded my arms, glaring at him. Jeez, what had I gotten myself into? He was a billionaire businessman by day, and a fighter by night.

“This is a heavy conversation to be getting into right now. Can we take a moment to breathe?” His brows pulled together, and he unzipped his hoodie. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but then he lifted his T-shirt, and I stared in shock at his chest. There were flecks of red on it. “Could I at least wash the blood off me?”

Shit. “Uh, yeah, you can use the shower,” I muttered.

He dragged both palms down his cheeks, something he did a lot when he was around me, and I realized now that he did it when he was stressed or struggling with his emotions.

A few painful moments later, he turned and entered the bathroom, leaving the door open as he got out of the rest of his clothes. I tried to pull my gaze from his body as he stepped naked into the shower, but I couldn’t.

His head bent forward as he braced both palms against the tiled wall in front of him, his beautiful, raw, and powerful body on display through the clear glass shower.

He was a fighter.

And he didn’t do it for the money.

I wasn’t sure what that meant, or how I was supposed to digest it. And I probably couldn’t—not without more information.

After a few minutes, he stepped out of the shower. He swiped at his wet hair and wrapped a white cotton towel around his hips. Water dripped down his body as he came toward me, now smelling like my flowery soap.

I was still glued to the same position as before, my hands making permanent imprints in the plush comforter at my sides as I waited for him to make the next move. I didn’t want to press.

He sat down next to me and his hand slipped down and covered mine. The gentle touch was so different from what I had witnessed tonight in the fighting ring.

“I’m so sorry. After everything you went through with your ex, you shouldn’t have been caught up in this shit situation.”

“It’s not your fault. Well, not really.” I peeled my eyes from our hands to meet Adam’s intense, soulful eyes. “Am I in danger, though? Those guys who showed up at Leslie’s . . .” I never had told Adam about that guy at the pub.

He blew out a breath. “You’re not in danger. No.”

“So, when you texted me the next day that you handled it—it was because you gave into those jerks? You agreed to fight?”

“Aye.” His attention shifted to the inside of his forearm, to the black markings there.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

He pulled his hand from mine and traced the tattoo with his fingers. “It’s nothing terribly poetic.” His lips curved into a half smile as if he were trying to shrug off the inconvenience of emotion that might have bruised his insides. “This,” he said, while pointing to a line that had dashes going through it, “means family. And the other . . . means fight.”

“Family and fight? They don’t seem to go too well together.” My gaze flickered up his chest and to his face.

There was a darkness there. A pain. “That’s the point. It’s a reminder to myself so I’ll never forget. If I fight, I can’t have my family.”

The back of Adam’s hand slipped up to my cheek. “I don’t . . . I don’t want to be this guy. I don’t want to be a fighter anymore.” His voice was low, gravelly, pure—like a confession.

“Then don’t,” I whispered, our eyes locking, my body tight with a sudden need that seemed out of place. Of course, both my body and mind always reacted when I was around Adam. He did something unexplainable to me—made every inch of me electrified. Alive.

Maybe it wasn’t fair to compare him to Jax. Adam was fighting to help, not to hurt. But what the hell had possessed him to fight in the first place?

“It’s not so simple.” His hand fell from my cheek down to the bed between us. “Until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t stepped foot inside a gym that had a fighting ring in it. For five years I stayed away . . . but not because I wanted to, but because I had to.”

He was on his feet, his hands fisting at his sides, and I could tell he was angry at himself, although I wasn’t sure why. “When I step into a ring, it’s like fire in my veins, lighting me up. Charging me. The adrenaline and excitement.” He shook his head, tearing his fingers across his short dark hair. “There’s something feckin’ wrong with me. It’s like a drug.” He paused, his words slowing as if it pained him to speak the truth. “And as much as I don’t want to be that man—the fighter—I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop until I’ve lost everyone important in my life and it’s too damn late.”

“I’m here.” I was on my feet, and I reached for both his forearms, bracing myself as I found his eyes.

His chest moved up and down as my fingertips pushed harder into the flesh of his arms, worried I’d fall under the weight of my feelings.

“Anna . . .”

Maybe he was saying my name as a warning, and maybe I should heed it, but I couldn’t.

I let go of his arms and reached for the strap of my robe. I untied it, and then pushed the robe off. I looked up to meet Adam’s eyes, craving his touch. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, to have the pressure of his pain lifted, to let him know he had me, even if was only for two more months.

His arms were at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tight. He was trying to refrain from touching me, but why? Did he think he couldn’t, because of what I’d seen tonight?

“Touch me.” I reached down for his closed fist and brought it between us, unfolding each of his fingers, one by one. I traced my finger down his palm and then brought my eyes flickering up to meet his. “There’s more power in an open hand,” I whispered as I brought his hand to my chest.

“I’m not good for you.” His eyes flashed closed. The warmth from his palm and the awareness of my naked body made my skin tingle. “After a win—all of the energy—it can make me . . .” He opened his eyes. “I don’t want to be—”

“I won’t flinch when you touch me.” My other hand slipped to the towel on his hips, and I yanked it off. He tilted his head back as his hard length sprang free. “Be with me. Make whatever pain that’s hurting you go away.”

“Anna,” he cried, and then his lips slanted over mine. He hooked an arm around my waist and pulled our bodies flush against each other until my breasts smashed to his chest. A low growl escaped his lips as his hand parted my thighs and slipped to my center.

My head fell back, and our lips broke at his touch. With closed eyes, I savored every moment. The palm of his hand shifted up my chest, while the other delivered incredible sensations to my groin.

I was hanging on the edge. Maybe it was a dangerous edge, but I didn’t care. When Adam shifted me to my back, I knew that I was safe in his arms.

* * *

“Do you trust me?”

Adam was sitting on his black sports bike, the powerful machine between his legs. He was holding his arm out, a helmet in hand. I stared dumbly at his outstretched arm. Nervousness spiraled through me.

“Trust me, I would never let anything happen to you. I want you to experience the city the way I see it when I ride.” He pushed the helmet a little closer to me, and I unclasped my arms and reached out for it.

“What about you? Don’t you need a helmet?”

“Not if we don’t crash.” He smiled. “And I have no intention of doing that,” he said with a wink. He had ducked out earlier this morning to get clothes from his place, and when he came back, he had the bright idea to take out his bike.

After everything that had happened last night, was I crazy to be doing this? He still owed me a deeper explanation of how he became a fighter, and why he quit. I had let the truth of his past fall through the cracks last night because I needed him. And after our bodies had connected beneath the sheets, we’d both passed out hard.

“Okay,” I begrudgingly agreed. He helped me onto the bike and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. I secured the helmet and wrapped my arms around his body.

The day was beautiful. The morning sun splattered the horizon with soft shades of orange and pink. The temperature was cool, but not ice cold.

Still, we had been acting like last night didn’t happen. Was our cocoon still intact, or were we pretending?

No, the walls were flimsy and peeling. We had to talk about his fighting eventually.

“You ready, love?” He looked over his shoulder. I slipped the visor of the helmet down and nodded.

The engine purred, and I could feel its vibrations between my thighs.

Adam pulled away from the hotel and out onto the road. This was completely against my plan to keep hidden from public view. But my job was a whole other issue—one that I’d rather save for another day.

I realized we were heading out of Dublin after ten or so minutes, but where to? Adam, of course, hadn’t told me anything.

The bike hugged the curves of the road, angling to the side a little too much for my comfort whenever we turned. The water was off to the right and, as we came closer to it, the breeze picked up, imbuing the air with bitter coldness.

We drove past a blustery green sea coast, inland meadows with pops of wild fuchsia, seabirds whirling through the sky . . . it was stunning. And the fresh air was just what I needed. After the wide open spaces of the farm back home, living in a hotel room for three weeks had made me want to claw at my skin.

The craggy cliffs dropped down to the sea where the water roared up into foam on the rocks. God, I was so alive at the moment. Part of me wanted to peel my arms free of Adam and open them wide, to allow freedom to wash over me, to cleanse me of my past . . .

But I wasn’t an idiot, so I clung to Adam, noticing a red lighthouse in the distance.

I wanted to speak, to tell him how incredible it all was, but I doubted he could hear me.

We passed crumbling ruins of an old building, and then Adam began to slow down. He parked, and I lifted the helmet from my head, shaking my mass of hair free. He turned off the engine and reached for my hand, steadying me as I hoisted my leg over. I combed my fingers through my hair and smiled at his reddened face.

My fingers graced his cheek, which was like ice, even though the temperature was in the upper forties.

Over his shoulder, I could see colorful boats dotting the waters.

“This place is spectacular.” He secured the helmet to his bike, and I guessed he trusted that no one would steal it. He grabbed hold of my hand and our fingers laced together.

“I thought this would be a better place to talk. A heavy conversation inside a hotel room didn’t seem fitting, ya know?”

“Agreed.” We began walking down a path alongside the boats. The water softly lapped against the concrete to my left. “So. How are you feeling this morning?” We’d barely spoken at the hotel before he’d whisked me away.

“I’m not sore at all if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m a little sore,” I said, trying to keep the conversation light. “You wore me out last night.”

He tightened his grasp on my hand. “And I’d be happy to wear you out again tonight.”

“Why wait so long?” I teased, raising a brow.

“You drive me mad, woman.” His free hand shifted to his jeans, and he adjusted himself. Had I made him hard with just a few words? I tried not to laugh.

He stopped walking and faced the railing, looking out onto the sea of boats. “It seems crazy that I’d never seen the sea before I came here. Hell, I’d never been to a beach.” The thought made me claustrophobic, now. “How can I ever go back to a life where I live in the middle of nowhere and never experience the world?”

Our hands unlocked as he gripped the railing. “Don’t.”

“I don’t think working at your company is going to happen for me when this is all over.” I knew well enough by now that I wasn’t meant for the corporate world. All that student loan debt had been for nothing.

What would I do? Work on my parents’ farm for the rest of my life?

“Because of me?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

I copied his move and wrapped my fingers around the black metal, which had grown warm from the clear sun hanging unobstructed in the soft blue sky. “No, because I don’t get any satisfaction from it. And I know a lot of people work for a paycheck, and that’s the way life is, but—”

He faced me, his hand touching my hip as he looked into my eyes. “You’re not going to be one of those people. I don’t want you to be.” His brows were pulled together, and he released a lungful of the crisp air. “I want you to do something that makes you happy.”

“The only thing that I have really enjoyed so far is working at the center. Well, that and riding horses, but—”

“So do that.”

“Do what?” I shifted back away from him and looked out at the water.

“Do something that involves working with kids and working with horses.”

He made it sound easy, but was there such a job? “I don’t know. Do you enjoy what you do?”

“Yeah, I guess, but I never had a choice. I was raised to run the company. Besides, if the company doesn’t turn a profit, then we wouldn’t have the foundation.”

“How do you fight?” I hadn’t meant to verbalize my thought, but I needed to know, eventually. “I mean, you’re such a good guy—it’s hard for me to understand why you would ever hit people . . . on purpose.”

I stole a glimpse of him as he scratched his chin, his eyes on the ground. “It started at the end of high school. My friend and I decided to join a gym in the city, and we spotted two guys sparring in a ring while we were working out. We were standing there watching when one of the guys called out to us—he told us to come up. He showed me how to throw my first punch.” Adam’s hands turned to fists in front of him as if he were reliving his memories.

I kept quiet, not sure what to say.

“The next time I went to the gym I saw the same guy there again. Donovan Hannigan.”

Hannigan? That was the name of the bar I’d gone to on Friday. Coincidence?

“Donovan taught my friend and me to fight. I didn’t tell my parents because I knew they wouldn’t like it. At first, it was for fun. I’d spar with some of the guys at the gym. Donovan told me he’d never seen someone with such natural talent.”

I reached for his arms and grabbed hold of his wrists, holding them between us.

“Donovan kind of took me under his wing. Da was always out of town, but Donovan was there. The day of my nineteenth birthday, he said he had a surprise for me—it was a fight. A real one. There were crowds of people, and I was almost too afraid to go through with it. But Donovan convinced me to do it, and I won. It had been so easy, too. I wasn’t sure if it’d been dumb luck, at first. But after that fight, I won every other one.”

“Did your parents ever find out?”

“Of course. The bruises, cuts, a few fractures . . .”

“What’d they say?”

“Da threatened to disown me, to kick me out of the business. When I told Donovan about it, he was more than eager for me to move into one of the flats he owned. When I told my parents I was going to move out, they were terrified I’d go through with it, so they basically dropped their threats. I went to college, worked at the company . . . and at night, I trained. I fought.”

Oh God.

“It became addicting, the winning. I was always chasing after the feeling it gave me, wanting more and more. I loved having so many people chanting my name, supporting me. But the deeper I got into it all, the more I learned who Donovan really was.” He dropped his hands from mine as if he were too ashamed to touch me. “But once Donovan gets his grip on you, it’s hard to get out.”

“Did you try to quit?”

“I want to say yes . . .” His eyes darkened, a pain there.

“But you didn’t?”

“Da tried to offer Donovan money to get him away from me. A lot of money. But as I mentioned, Donovan cares more about his reputation than a check. He liked making the money off my fights.”

I struggled to comprehend what he was saying. It felt like there were two Adams. But which one was standing before me now—the fighter or the businessman?

Spine-tingling chills skated down my back as Adam’s eyes caged me in his gaze. His story was going to get worse.

He bent his head forward . . . and I lost him. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I finally crossed my arms, almost hugging myself to maintain composure.

“Five years ago, I quit. And I didn’t step near a bloody ring since—well, until two weeks ago.”

“Why?” I whispered, the breeze carrying the word from my lips.

“Owen.” He stiffened and looked back up at me. “I should never have been in the ring with him. He was nowhere near qualified enough to fight me. I should have refused to fight him.” He swallowed, the lump of emotion evident. “It only took one left hook—and the way he fell.” His eyes flashed shut. “Something happened to his spine.”

I cupped a hand to my mouth.

“I visited him in the hospital after the fight, worried about him, and they said he’d probably never walk again. The cops were there . . . I spent the night in jail.” He touched his wrists. “And I wish Da never bailed me out. I wish he’d let me feckin’ rot there. I deserved it.”

“But it was an accident! This guy chose to get in that ring with you.” I couldn’t help but come to his defense, despite how I felt about the fighting.

“The Garda—the police—tried to turn me against Donovan. I knew a lot about his business dealings, but I also knew that I couldn’t rat on him. I knew he wasn’t past hurting the people I cared about . . .”

“Jesus.”

“Since I wasn’t allowed back at the hospital to see Owen, my folks went—they told me that Owen was paralyzed. He’d be in a wheelchair forever. And it was my fault. My parents gave him a big settlement, and then I talked to Donovan. I threatened him—demanding that he leave me be.”

“Wow.”

“Donovan hated me for walking out on him. He had a few of his guys hold me down and beat the shit out of me. And I let them. I deserved it after what happened to Owen.”

“And now you’re back?” My shoulders shrank as sadness overwhelmed me.

“I’m not sure if there will be a way out this time.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “My family might have money, but Donovan has power. He owns half the city. And I’m honestly not sure how I managed to escape him for so long.”

“That’s why you created the center? To try and keep the kids out of his clutches?”

He nodded. “Redemption.”

“You can’t blame yourself—”

“I can, and I do. I remember what I did to Owen every day. And it has kept me from fighting, until now.” He shook his head, and a flash of anger lit his eyes. “You see, Anna, we all make choices. I made mine a long time ago. Now I must suffer the consequences. Now you understand why I’m dangerous for you, why you can’t be with me.”

Adam started to walk away, and I stood there, watching him leave.

“No,” the word escaped from my lips in a whisper. “No,” I said louder and finally moved to catch up with him. “No, Adam.” I touched his shoulder.

He spun to face me, his hands locked at his sides.

“I refuse to accept that,” I cried.

He shook his head, his eyes hard as steel. “Last night was it for us. We can’t—”

“If you don’t want this to continue because you don’t give a shit about me, that’s one thing. But if you’re the man I think you are, then don’t back down. Fight. Fight for yourself! Fight to be the man you know you are, the man you are when you’re with me. Fight for the kids at the center.” My body trembled as his eyes seemed to melt into a blue like the sea. “Do what you have to, to save your friend, and then get away from Donovan and never look back.”

Adam’s chest rose and fell in deep breaths. Then he closed the gap between us and pulled me against him. “Jesus, Anna—who the hell are you?”