Chapter 7

Cain hesitated only a second before crawling through the broken window of the abandoned meat-packing plant in a seedy part of town. It wasn’t that he was physically scared—he’d gone to war, for Christ’s sake. He hesitated only because he didn’t want to get arrested and this was the kind of event where people ended up behind bars.

He went inside anyway.

The putrid smell of sweaty men crowded into a small space that hadn’t been aired out in years was sickening. The fight had already begun, and Cain immediately saw two overweight men throwing sloppy punches. Because it was a bare-knuckle fight, there was blood everywhere. There was no ring or cage, only the crowd of men holding money out, creating a circle for the fight.

Cain immediately realized two things. First, these men were completely inexperienced fighters¸ and he hoped that the fight ended before one of them wound up dead from a stupid move. And second, when the man with the least amount of blood and broken bones won the match, he’d get a shit-ton of money from the amateur fight.

“Cain, my man!” Iggy slapped the back of Cain’s shoulder. “Easy money, baby!” Iggy held up a wad of cash.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Cain looked at the battered fighters still hanging around the center. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and saw Violet had sent him a text.

Thanks for the help today. You’re a good friend, Cain ;)

Was she on the date right now? Was her date looking at the outfit Cain had helped her choose? And that winking face, shit, what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Cain’s mind raced. Was she going to sleep with the doctor? That had not been part of the plan! He hated the word friend. But he needed to remember it—they were friends. Nothing more.

Cain read the message five times; his hand almost crushed the phone before he slid it back into the pockets of his cargo pants and hollered to Iggy, “I want in.”

Iggy handed him a sheet of paper with scribbled notes about the next fighter’s stats. “How much you throwing down? Hurry, ’cause once the fighters come out, they won’t take any more bets.”

“I want in,” Cain said again, but this time with a growl.

Iggy pointed to the paper. “I know. Look this over quickly and give me—Oh! You mean, you want in, as in you want to fight? Not just place a bet?”

Cain was already making his way toward a heavyset man with a goatee who sat on an aluminum chair surrounded by a small entourage of tough-looking men counting money.

Iggy put a hand on Cain’s shoulder. “Man, this isn’t the kind of shit you’re used to. You could get hurt. You have a career with IMC, and Jesus, you’re a professional fighter. You can’t fight in this shit. These Russians don’t mess around, Cain.”

Cain’s eyes narrowed, and Iggy let go of his shoulder and put his hands up in surrender.

The tallest Russian of the group noticed Cain first. He lifted a chin in question.

“Who do I have to talk to if I want to fight?” Cain asked. The man looked at him curiously and without looking away said something in Russian to the man who stood beside him. The second guy turned and mumbled something to the heavyset man, who was clearly in charge.

“Come. Sit.” The heavyset Russian motioned to Cain, who walked the three steps forward and sat as instructed.

“Name?”

“No name,” Cain said.

The man sat back, crossed his arms, and eyed Cain for a few moments.

“You come to my house and disrespect me? You want to fight and you no give me name?” His Russian accent was heavy and it was difficult to understand, but Cain got the gist of it and nodded. “You know who I am?”

Cain wasn’t sure, but he figured the guy belonged to the Russian mob. Likely not too far up in the ranks, since he was hustling money in an abandoned warehouse, but still, it was the Russian mob, and Cain hadn’t come here to make trouble. So Cain nodded.

“You have big American balls, boy!” The man howled a belly laugh. “You understand vale tudo?”

“I do.”

“You want to fight, you must fight tonight,” the Russian said.

“Fine.” Cain stood, accepting the challenge.

“Alexei, you.” The Russian pointed to one of the tough-looking men.

Cain walked off to wait his turn.

“You’re fucking insane!” Iggy hollered over the noise. “Man, if you’re that hard up for cash, I can spot you some—”

“I don’t want your money, Ig,” Cain yelled back as he took off his shirt and shoved it into Iggy’s hand. “Hold this.” Then he took out his keys, wallet, and phone. “This too.”

“Fuck man. You’re crazy.” Iggy rubbed the back of his neck. “And what the hell was that shit he asked you. Vale whatever-the-fuck?”

“Vale tudo. It’s an everything-goes Brazilian fighting style. They love that shit in Russia. Can’t bite, grab balls, fish hook, shit like that, but basically anything else goes. Bare knuckles. I already knew that when I saw the first fight,” Cain said matter-of-factly as he jumped up and down, warming up while he waited for the current fight to finish. “Russians prey on these small towns where there’s not much action.” He stretched his neck side to side and then his arms. The floor was bloodied and probably slippery. He’d noticed that between rounds two young kids mopped up the center. It wasn’t perfect, but at least it kept the fighters from slipping as soon as the match began.

“If you get yourself killed, the bosses from IMC are going to be royally pissed.”

Cain stopped jumping and put a hand on Iggy’s shoulder. “Relax.”

Cain was tall, the tallest fighter at Worth the Fight Academy, but Alexei was taller—much taller. The Russian likely outweighed Cain by at least fifty pounds, but in these underground bare-knuckle fights, there weren’t weight divisions or skill differentials. You fought whichever opponent was available. Alexei, the man standing in front of Cain, could’ve been a professional kickboxer or a complete novice, for all Cain knew. What was obvious were the tattoos on Alexei’s chest, neck, arms, and knuckles. They told a story of prison time and mob life.

The ref yelled something in Russian and then in broken English; the lack of rules drove home the point that there really weren’t any rules. A surge of adrenaline kicked in. All Cain could think about was survival. His heart beat faster, his mind emptied, and his muscles remembered the techniques he’d mastered years ago. The energy pumping through his veins was exactly what he needed. Why he fought.

As soon as Alexei threw the first punch, not two seconds after the bell rang, Cain knew he had the fight won. Cain sidestepped Alexei and let the man throw a round of punches and kicks in order to tire him out. Within two minutes, Alexei was breathing shallowly and had yet to land a punch. Normally, Cain’s strength was on the ground. He was a master at Brazilian jiu jitsu, but the blood-covered floor was not something he wanted to come in contact with. Noticing how tired Alexei had become, after the Russian took a final attempt at a jab Cain flung a right hook straight to the man’s temple, followed by a kick to the face. Blood streamed immediately out of his nose, and Alexei went down.

The crowd roared. Even though it felt euphoric to win, it would have been a hell of a lot better had his opponent known how to fight. The use of his skill was part of the sport’s draw for him, and with Alexei he’d needed nothing but good timing and a hard hit.

The heavy-set Russian stood and slowly walked to Cain. The crowd quieted down as the man counted a stack of money and handed it to Cain.

“Next time, you fight longer. Crowd like action.”

Next time? It felt good, the adrenaline still pumped through his veins, all his energy focused solely on staying alive. Yes, there would be a next time.

“Cain Sorenson, it is pleasure to meet you. I call personally for next fight. We make lot of money together.”

“You know my name?”

“I am Yuri Kovalenko. I know everything, boy.”

In five minutes Cain had made five thousand dollars and he’d barely broken a sweat. He didn’t like that the Russian mob was involved, but he liked the feel of winning. Of fighting. And the best part was that he hadn’t thought of Violet for the last five minutes. He felt invincible. Yes, he would definitely fight here again.

The next day he received a text from Violet about going to dinner. He sent a quick text back to let her know he was busy training. That was how it went for the next two days. She called and he quickly cut the conversation short with an excuse. By the third day, every muscle in his body ached. He was finishing his workout when he saw Violet walk into the Academy. She wore loose navy sweatpants, a tight-fitting ribbed tank top, and a huge scowl.

Fuck.

She walked straight to him, eyes narrowed. She was so damn cute even when she was trying to be intimidating. Her five-foot-nothing stature did nothing to make her seem any more menacing. “Are you avoiding me?” She shoved her finger in his chest.

He wiped his face with a towel, trying to stifle a grin. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he lied.

Her posture changed. “Sorry for that accusation. I just thought that…well, anyway, never mind.” She let her gym bag drop to the floor. “You’re working too hard, then. You want to grab dinner tonight?”

“Can’t,” he answered.

Hurt flashed briefly across her face.

“I’ll walk you out, though,” he said as he grabbed his gym bag.

“Huh? I just got here.” She started to walk toward the elliptical machine, and he followed.

“What’re you doing?”

She stepped on the machine and began touching the screen. “Working out. Obviously.”

He looked around. The Academy wasn’t too full, but there were a few young guys whose attention was no longer on the bags they were supposed to be pounding; instead their eyes had drifted to Violet’s plump ass. “You can’t work out here, Vi.”

She began to move on the machine, her tits bouncing with each and every step she took. “Yes I can. Francesca told me I could and Slade okayed it.”

Tony walked by at that precise moment with one of the new fighters in tow. “Tony, is it okay if I work out here today?” she said with a big smile as she moved up and down on the machine.

Who the fuck would deny her anything with that smile?

“Yes, of course, muñeca.” He walked on, but the fighter he was with swiveled his head to look at Violet. Tony chuckled and slapped the fighter on the back of the head, then grinned at Cain.

Cain closed his eyes and took a deep breath trying to control his anger. He had been ready to call it a day when Violet arrived, but he couldn’t very well leave her in a gym full of men. Okay, maybe not full of men, but one man looking at her like that was one too many. These testosterone-fueled guys had only one thing on their sick, perverted minds: Violet’s ass. Well, more than one thing: her tits too. He knew this for a fact because he was thinking the same damn thing. He dropped his bag and climbed on the treadmill next to the elliptical machine.

“I thought you were leaving?”

“No,” he said as he set the treadmill to the highest possible speed and began a mind-numbing run. Violet shrugged, slipped her ear buds on and tuned him out.

An hour later, Cain was using the speed bag and Violet was on a weight machine when Travis and Enzo showed up. They’d been there when Cain arrived earlier in the day, had left for a few hours, and were now back for a second round of training.

Cain grunted.

“You’re working out here now, Violet?” Enzo asked.

“I’m testing it out. Not sure yet.”

Enzo winked at her before he walked away.

Cain wanted to rip the man’s eye out. He knew he was being absolutely ridiculous, but he didn’t want anyone ogling Violet.

“Hey, sugar, how’re you doin’?” Travis said to Violet. “Nice to have your pretty little face in here. Tired of seeing all these guys’ ugly mugs every day.”

And why is Travis always so fucking talkative?

Out of the corner of her eye Violet saw Cain come over to where she was straddling one of the weight benches. “You’re doing it wrong,” he said gruffly, and, not bothering to ask, he took the pin out of the seat to readjust it, catapulting her forward.

“Hey!” Violet yelped. “I almost fell.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You don’t need to stick around, Cain. I’ve got this. I’m just doing a few arm reps, a few leg lifts…”

She lost her train of thought a moment later when he yanked the metal bar from her hand and started moving things around, fiddling with the weights, and adjusting her stance. “Cain.” His hands were everywhere—her back, her legs, her arms. “Cain!”

“What?”

“What are you doing? Stop manhandling me! Can you just…I don’t know, verbalize it?”

“You’re going to get hurt if you do it that way. You’re trying to use too much weight. You’re standing all wrong.”

Cain peeled his sweaty T-shirt off, used it to wipe his face, and then flung it to the floor. His body was breathtaking, and she nearly forgot to breathe for a moment as she took in all the hard lines and understated strength. He wasn’t bulky like Slade or Tony; he was tall, lean, and muscular. His gym shorts hung so low on his hips she could see the bunching of muscles on his lower stomach that looked like a perfect V pointing straight down. She shook her head. Mind outta the gutter, Violet! She cleared her throat and said, “It’s fine. It’s doesn’t need to be perfect. I’m just trying to do a little exercise. Stay healthy and—”

“For once just stop talking so much and just listen. You’re going to get hurt.” He adjusted the bar again and the seat.

She shoved his hands away. “You know, I’m really starting to get annoyed about that. If you don’t like my voice, you don’t have to stick around to hear it.” She huffed as she struggled with the heavy weight.

He grunted.

“What? You’re grunting? You can’t even be bothered to talk? You’re a jerk, you know that?” She let the weight go, causing it to clank loudly, and began to march away angrily.

“Where are you going?” he yelled, but she didn’t bother looking back. “Vi. Come back.”

“Man, you’re a real dick,” Travis tossed over his shoulder as he jogged after Violet.

Cain saw Travis say something to her and place a comforting hand on her shoulder before she disappeared alone into the small women’s locker room.

“Fuck,” Cain whispered as he ran his fingers through his hair. He was angry at himself for losing his temper. Angry at Travis for having a friendship with Violet that now included comforting her. And angry at…Well, he was just angry. He walked back to the punching bags and started hitting one.

“What’s going on with you?” Tony said.

Cain hadn’t even noticed Tony come over. He continued to punch the bag.

“Cain.”

Nothing.

“I get you’re not a talker. Lucky for you I am. You’ve been quieter than normal, and meaner too, especially to her. She’s a nice girl. Pretty. If you keep being an ass, you’re going to lose her,” Tony lectured him.

“She’s not mine. Can’t lose something that’s not yours to begin with.”

“Gringo estupido,” Tony said. “She’s not yours because you’re a dickhead who keeps pushing her away.” He playfully smacked Cain’s shoulder as Violet left the locker room and walked out of the Academy without so much as a glance at Cain. “By the way,” Tony went on, “I heard my wife yapping to Jessica about Violet going on a date tomorrow night. The girls are all on a mission to find her a date for that high school reunion. She’s going to find someone if you don’t man the fuck up soon, brother.”

Cain threw one last punch against the bag, knowing Tony was wrong. He’d lost Violet years ago to Jeremy and now it was too late. He needed to walk away.

John was just as sweet and funny as the last time she’d seen him. “I’m really sorry about our last date,” she apologized for the umpteenth time.

“Don’t worry about it. JL explained. How can I fault you for being emotional over seeing someone you thought had died in war?” Okay, so maybe JL hadn’t been exactly truthful.

She smiled, took a bite of her baked potato, then pointed her fork at the tattoos on one of his arms. “Can you tell me what those mean?”

“Well, this one, for example,” he said, pointing to a word wrapped around a heart, “is my sister’s name, Tawny, and this one…”

At some point she zoned out. The reunion was coming up soon, and there was no way she would find a guy who’d be willing to go all the way to Texas for a high school reunion. It was looking more and more likely she’d have to go without a date.

Since Jeremy had died, dating hadn’t been a priority, but for some reason, the thought of going to the reunion alone really bothered her. The thing about losing your fiancé so young was that so many dreams and hopes seemed to die with him. Ten years ago her future had centered on Jeremy: being his wife, being a mother to their children, living the life of a military wife. Truthfully, most of that had been his dream, but she’d been so crazy in love at the time, they had felt like things she wanted too. High school had been tough. The kids were cruel, and the last two years without Cain and Jeremy there as buffers were worse, even with JL and Travis there. With Jeremy gone, Violet never got the opportunity to do the typical high school things like parties, prom, and dances. Most people didn’t even believe she was dating Jeremy—he’d been so popular back in his high school days—and they would often call her a liar. There’d been a lot of teasing and nights spent crying, and she often fantasized that one day she’d come back and show everyone what a wonderful life she had with Jeremy once she graduated and they married. Except Jeremy was gone and her life was stalled.

It was as if life had sort of passed her by these last six years without him, and even though she’d gone to nursing school, which had been her dream, she felt as if something was missing. And the damn reunion was a reminder of a life she hadn’t been living. But, of course, she’d make the best of it, like she always did. Travis and JL were always great company, and she was grateful for their friendship.

“…you ever thought about getting inked?”

Huh? Was John talking to her?

“Oh, uh…I don’t know. Nothing ever felt important enough to have permanently on my skin.” She lied. No one knew about her tattoo. It was a drunken decision from years ago.

“I’m boring you to death,” John said.

“No! Why do you say that?”

“You keep yawning.”

She placed her hand on her mouth. “Oh. Really? Sorry. Was a long day. And I worked out longer than I should have. Sorry. You’re not boring me. Not at all.”

She made an effort to be present for the rest of the date, and they chatted for a little longer. Finally he asked for the bill and paid. She gnawed nervously at her bottom lip as he walked her to her car. Is he going to try to kiss me? Should I let him? Will he ask me out again? So when they got to her car and he leaned in, she had already worked herself into a panic. Quickly she turned her face and his lips met her cheek. She scurried into her car and fumbled to get her seatbelt on. “I’ll call you,” John said before closing her door and watching her smile shyly and awkwardly through the window. When he was out of sight she dropped her head on the steering wheel and groaned. Why are all my dates such disasters? Dating shouldn’t be this difficult, she thought.

She pulled out her phone and sent a text.

I suck at dating!

Cain texted back immediately. Maybe the guy was just a terrible date.

Nah. It was all me. I was awkward and nervous and overall stupid.

Doubt that. Where are you now?

She sighed and texted, Sitting in the car feeling sorry for myself.

You want to come by? You can tell me why you suck at dating.

Violet thought about it, then replied, I’m still mad at you.

You should be. I’m an asshole.

You are. A big one.

But you still love me.

Always, she texted back, a little smile on her face.

After a few moments she got another message from Cain: I’m sorry.

Holy shit. Did you just apologize? she thumbed.

Holy shit, did you just say shit?

LOL, she texted. I’m coming over.

Inviting her over was more proof that he was fucking out of his mind. Clearly I’m a masochist, he thought.

Twenty minutes after she’d texted him to say she was on her way, Violet was sitting comfortably cross-legged on his couch, her shoes off, her hair in a messy knot on top of her head, as she went through the details of her date. “…so the date the other day with the doctor was a disaster and he hasn’t called, so, that’s not going anywhere. And today, I started to freak out toward the end, mostly. Although I tuned him out for the better part of the date. I did mention that, right? Anyway, by the time we were by my car I was having a full-blown mental breakdown. What if he asked me to go home with him? Should I say yes? And if I said yes, what if he’s into…I don’t know, something kinky, like porn? I’ve been out of it for so long I don’t really know what to do.”

Cain snorted. “Porn’s kinky?”

She shrugged. “Okay, then, I don’t know…what if he wants to pee on me or something?”

Cain’s eyes widened and he just stared at her for a moment before bursting out in a fit of laughter. “Who the hell have you been talking to? Peeing? I don’t think that’s something you have to worry about. Anyway, you should feel safe enough with your partner to stop anytime you begin to feel uncomfortable. If you’re that incompatible when it comes to sex, maybe he’s not the right guy for you. But you have to be open to different things.”

“I will not be open to being peed on.”

He laughed again. “Okay, no. I would agree with you on that one. Peeing is a hard no. But watching porn? It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh—”

“Unless it’s peeing porn.”

She snorted. “Oh my God, I’m so out of my league. I can’t believe that’s even like a thing.”

“Watching porn with your significant other could be erotic.”

“Uh…yeah, no, thank you very much. I can’t watch other people having sex.”

“Have you tried it? How would you know?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I just do.”

“As your dating coach, my job’s to get you to open up and show you the kinds of things men want. I’m not saying men want you to sit and watch porn, but you just can’t cross your arms and say no to something you’ve never tried. So long as it’s a reasonable request, of course.”

“And watching porn is reasonable?” she huffed.

“I think so.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never watched porn.”

“I haven’t. Not ever.” Her cheeks blushed. “I swear.”

“Okay, so lesson for the day.” He took the laptop from the table, then grabbed her hand, led her to the couch, and sat down next to her with the laptop on his lap.

“What? You’re just going to pop a DVD from your collection into the drive? What if I don’t like your particular kind of porn?”

“First, I don’t have a porn collection. I’m a thirty-year-old man, not an eighteen-year-old boy. Second, I don’t think that’s how it works anymore. There are websites. And last, you wouldn’t know what your particular kind is, since you’ve never seen porn, nor would you know what my particular preference is. Just sit back and relax. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, just say so, and I’ll stop it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Cain fiddled around with a website until he finally pressed play. At first it seemed innocent enough, except for the obviously sexy clichéd nurse. “A nurse. Har. Har.” She nudged him in the ribs.

“Let’s try this first. We can do a different genre or something else if you don’t like this.”

Violet didn’t say anything. She just leaned forward and watched as the nurse walked over to the “patient” and began to check him. Obviously, that’s not the way a trained nurse would do an examination on her—oh! Violet tilted her head to the side and then back as the “nurse” removed the man’s clothes and then dropped to her knees. Violet inched closer to the screen. The man was definitely getting a thorough checkup. Cain was quiet, which was no surprise.

As the woman on the screen went to work on her in-depth checkup…with her tongue, the man’s hands inched between the woman’s legs and disappeared underneath her panties. Violet’s breath hitched. “Oh,” she whispered as she sat back, her eyes glued to the screen. The pulse of desire hit her hard and fast, setting her nerve endings on fire. The moaning on the screen became louder, and so did her pulse.

She could felt the tension radiating off Cain. She snuck a peek at him and saw that Cain’s blue eyes weren’t looking at the screen, they were looking at her. His Adam’s apple bobbed in and out as if he was trying to swallow. He shifted on the couch, carefully holding the laptop so it wouldn’t fall. She tucked some hair behind her ears and looked at him through her eyelashes, feeling very embarrassed yet very aroused. She cleared her throat. “You’re not watching,” She whispered.

“I am,” he said, his eyes never wavering from hers. His voice was low and rumbly and all sorts of hot. The woman on the screen moaned louder as the man flipped her over, shoved up her tiny dress, and pulled her panties off. Violet shifted and clenched her thighs together; she was so turned on, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. The thin sheen of sweat that had formed on her brow and her neck would surely give her away.

If she moved again, Cain was going to come in his pants like a sixteen-year-old kid. The skin on her arm, brushing against his, was soft and warm against him. Even worse, he knew exactly what she was thinking. It matched his thoughts exactly—thoughts the neither of them should be having.

If he wanted to, he could slide his aching cock right into her warm pussy right now. Watching her watch the screen had been the stuff fantasies were made of. The reddening of her cheeks went down past her neck and down to her cleavage, where her nipples were pebbled out in two pointy and enticing nubs. Her chest heaved up and down and he could see the vein on her neck pulse. When she had turned and looked at him almost shyly from under those long eyelashes, he’d almost thrown the laptop aside and attacked her lips.

She probably didn’t know what a turn-on that innocent look she gave him was. She wasn’t doing it on purpose; she really was that innocent. And he was going straight to hell, he had no doubt about it. His dick was so hard at the moment, he was afraid it would jut out and cause the laptop to fall down.

The small room suddenly felt smaller. The air was thick with sex, lust, and want. And like a moth to a flame, he continued the delicious torture by asking, “What’s turning you on?”

She took a deep intake of breath. “I’m not—”

“Do not lie to me.” His tone came out gruffer than he planned, so he reached for her and ran the back of his hand down her cheek in an effort to make her understand he wasn’t trying to be harsh. Her eyes were focused on the screen, where the man now had two fingers inside the woman and his mouth on her nipple. God, how he wanted to be doing that same exact thing to Violet right this second. “This is what you would do with your partner. Watch. Talk. Act.” His hand dropped to her thigh. “Your skin’s burning up. Don’t lie to me. I know you’re turned on,” he said in a softer voice.

“I guess it’s everything. The noises she makes, what he’s doing. You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You looked turned on too.” She looked up at him with those big brown eyes.

“Lesson one: you don’t need to be shy. If you’re doing something like this, you don’t have to be shy. You look like you have something to say. Say it.”

She swallowed and began, “Are…” She stopped, looked at the screen, then turned her gaze back at him, this time her spine a little straighter. “Are you as turned on as I am, Cain?”

Her voice was low, raspy, and seductive as fuck. He wasn’t sure what the boundaries were.

“Yes, I am.”

“What are we doing here, Cain? Because honestly, I feel like we’re about to cross some sort of line.”

“Why would you say that?”

She closed her eyes.

“What is it? Tell me.” He looked back to the screen. “How does that make you feel? Do you want that?”

She opened her eyes and nodded.

“Say it.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I want that.” She pointed to the screen. “What he’s doing to her.” Her eyes never left his as she spoke.

He took the laptop and placed it on the coffee table. He turned to her, their knees touching, and took her hand and placed it on his rock-hard cock. “Does that answer your question? I’m so fucking turned on, if you so much as move, I’ll come.”

“Oh my,” she said with a gasp. “So what happens next?”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her neck, his cheek feather light against her skin, his lips inches from hers. “I think you like porn, Violet. I think that any guy you date will be a lucky man.” He closed his eyes tightly, then said, “I also think it’s time you went home.” He ran his hand over his face and adjusted his jeans.

“Yeah. I think you’re right.” She stood up quickly, nervously adjusted her shirt, and tucked her hair behind her ears. Then he walked her to her car.

“Text me when you get home. Drive safely. It’s late,” he said by her car door.

She nodded, kissed his cheek, and climbed inside. She looked as shocked as he felt.

Holy shit. I’m definitely playing with fire.

He was halfway back to his house when she called through her open window, “Cain?”

“Yeah?” He jogged back to her car.

“The other day you asked me if I was over Jeremy. I don’t think I ever answered you.”

“You don’t need—”

“Yeah, I do. I want you to know that if you are worried about me being over Jer so that you and I can…I don’t think I’ll ever be over Jeremy the way people are over someone they break up with. He died. It’s different, you know? But I’m not thinking about him or anything when you and I are…you know. Ugh! This is coming out all wrong.”

“I understand.” He leaned in through the window and kissed her cheek. “Go home, sunshine.”

“No wait! I need to get this out before I lose my nerve. I’m attracted to you. I think I’ve always been, actually. I mean, how can I not be? You’re really hot, Cain.” She shook her head. “Ugh! Why can’t I stop babbling? Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m attracted to you. Life is too short to play games—I think I learned that with Jeremy. So, I know this may be weird or whatever, but I just wanted you to know that. I feel things when I’m with you that I’ve never…my body gets…well, anyway, you get the point.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Anyway, I hope that even if you don’t feel the same way about me, you still want to help me with the whole awkwardness thing with the dating.”

Her eyes were downcast, as if she was expecting a harsh rejection. But he couldn’t resist her. And he couldn’t leave her unsure.

He opened her door, tugged her out, and cupped her face with his hands. “I know I shouldn’t do this. I know this is wrong. But, fuck, sunshine…” He released a low, guttural sound as he searched her eyes for permission. “I need you to know how much I fucking want you.” And he crashed his lips onto hers.

If this was the only kiss he would ever have with her again, he was going to make it count. It would be a kiss they’d remember for years to come. It would be the kind of kiss that both of them would measure future kisses against. He devoured her. She didn’t hesitate to give his tongue access, opening her mouth to him almost instantly. His tongue speared her mouth with reckless abandon. This was not the kiss of twelve years ago. This kiss was wet, messy, and wanton, fueled by years of pent up desire.

As she sucked his bottom lip, her hands tightened around his wrists. He pushed his body closer to her and she whimpered with need. He wanted to be inside her.

“Oh, God, Cain,” she whispered into his mouth. She couldn’t get close enough, it seemed. Her hips undulated against him, and she clawed his neck as he continued his assault. He released her face, then gripped her hip and roughly pulled her closer. Her hands went to his hair. Clawing, kneading, and pulling. He couldn’t get enough, and he feared they were ten seconds away from stripping and fucking outside by her car.

“Violet,” he breathed. She didn’t stop kissing him, her nails digging into his scalp. “Violet, baby. Stop,” he said, pushing back slightly. “Sunshine…,” he said once they weren’t attached any longer. “We have to stop.”

Her hands went to her lips. They were both breathless.

“Why?” She tried to reach for him.

“We…I…” He closed his eyes. They couldn’t do this. They crossed that line. It was his fault, but it couldn’t happen again. She was Jeremy’s fiancée. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” He kissed her cheek and then opened her car door. Her eyes were wide, and she looked as if she was about to cry. Without a word she got in the car, looked at him one last time in disbelief, and left.

It was dark out and Cain was tense when he walked into the gym of the elementary school. The school was under construction and unused. He needed to blow off steam in a big way, and when Yuri had called about a big fight, he hadn’t hesitated to take it. The kiss five days ago had left him frustrated, not just with desire, but with insurmountable amounts of guilt. She hadn’t called him once, and truthfully, he would understand if she never spoke to him again. He was throwing out all sorts of mixed signals; he hated himself for it. She seemed to want some sort of physical relationship he wasn’t able to give her.

Thoughts of Violet played in his mind. He was tormented. The rational part of his brain understood that it wasn’t his fault that Jeremy had died. It wasn’t his fault that they’d been blindsided halfway through the mission. It wasn’t his fault that Jeremy had decided to reenlist. Cain, though, would never have left a woman like Violet alone for a second tour. The Rangers were his family and he loved them like brothers, but he’d kill to have a woman at home waiting for him with open arms. Not just any woman, but a woman like Violet. But Jeremy was career military through and through. Leaving the army, changing careers—that would have made him miserable. But Violet never would’ve insisted he leave the military. She’d accepted his proposal knowing he’d be gone for God only knew how long. Every goodbye could be the final goodbye.

Cain could’ve gone to college after high school, he could’ve gotten a job, but Jeremy had convinced him to enlist with him. He spoke of honor, of duty, of pride for one’s country. Jeremy was a fucking commercial for the armed forces, and since it wasn’t as if Cain had any other goals, he went with Jeremy and they enlisted together. Once he got through boot camp and was eventually picked for the Rangers, he was grateful for Jeremy and maybe even his father, because the army had taught him a lot and made him the man he was today. Loyal through and through. Which was why he couldn’t be with Violet.

And lastly, Cain understood that it wasn’t his fault that he and Jeremy had had a huge fight the day Jeremy died. But the irrational part of his brain couldn’t understand that. The irony was that the two men, who rarely argued, had fought over Violet. And just a few hours later his best friend was dead. The guilt Cain felt over that sometimes made it impossible to breathe.

Inside the unfinished school building, the crowd was just as thick as last time. With a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, Alexei, the same man he’d fought a few days before, frisked Cain. “No guns,” the man said.

Cain looked at Alexei’s SIG hanging from his shoulder and lifted an eyebrow.

“Me, gun. You, no.” He handed Cain’s weapon to another man behind him and said, “After fight we return weapon.”

Cain grunted.

“Boss wait for you.” He pointed to Yuri.

“Cain Sorenson. You return. You hungry for pain?” The man shook his head. “You are up next. Extra thousand dollar if you last five minutes.” The Russian laughed.

A Hispanic man who looked like he’d just gone three rounds and lost limped into the circle. The black letters tattooed in Old English font that went across his chest spelled out the name Raymundo. He wore bloodstained white track pants with black stripes down the sides. A bandage over his ribs oozed blood, and he had two black eyes. Cain looked at the man, surprised. Was this mess his opponent?

Cain felt sorry for Raymundo for a moment, but then the man started talking smack in Spanish. Cain recognized some of the words from his time training Tony. Upon further inspection, Cain saw that the guy’s eyes lacked focus. He was clearly on drugs of some sort. Before the ref could say anything, Raymundo charged at Cain. Cain ducked and grabbed the man’s midsection and tried to lift him up, but the man kneed him in the eye. Cain grunted. It felt as if his eye was pulsating out of the socket. Blood trickled down his face; he wiped it with his forearm and put his guard back up. When the man charged him again, this time Cain sidestepped him and threw a kick that connected hard with Raymundo’s torso. The man fell over and grumbled incoherently, then stood up, angrier than before.

What the fuck?

It already felt as if they had been fighting for an hour, but Cain knew enough about being tired and in pain to know that they had just begun fighting. Raymundo once again charged at Cain, and Cain began to understand the man’s technique.

Charge.

That was it. Nothing complicated. Nothing technical. He was just an angry ape of a man who charged head-on. Cain needed to get through about two more minutes without actually getting killed. He wanted that extra thousand dollars. He didn’t need the money, but he wanted to prove he could do it. And also, every minute he was fighting not to die was a minute he wasn’t thinking about Violet. So this time when the man charged, Cain simply moved and the man fell right into the crowd of people holding money up in the air.

The crowd cursed, pushed, and fought Raymundo off them and back into the circle. From the corner of his uninjured eye, Cain saw that Yuri was pleased. Cain wiped the blood from his face again, and this time when Raymundo charged, Cain punched him square in the face, and his nose began to bleed. Raymundo grunted, lost his footing, and fell back against the crowd of spectators again. But this time, the bandage on his midsection ripped open, and blood trickled from his wound. The crowd moved away, cursing Raymundo. Cain hoped his opponent was planning to stay down.

The crowd chanted, and when the man didn’t make much of an effort to move, another man wearing vinyl gloves ran over and flashed a light in Raymundo’s eyes and checked his pulse. He said something in Russian to Yuri that Cain recognized from his time in Ukraine as “alive.” Yuri yelled something back. There was some commotion as his opponent was lifted onto a gurney-like contraption and taken away, and then the ref proclaimed Cain the winner with a lift of an arm.

The crowd yelled and roared. Yuri handed Cain thirty-five hundred dollars, patted him on the back and said, “Well done. See you soon, son.” Son? Cain didn’t like the sound of that. He took off his shirt and pressed it against his eye to stop the bleeding as he walked out.

As soon as the warm night air touched his skin he flinched. This was the first time he regretted having a motorcycle instead of a car. He carefully mounted it and blotted his eye with his shirt as much as possible before taking off. He’d never driven slower in his life.

Once he got inside his apartment, he walked into the kitchen, grabbed a few ibuprofens, and downed them with a cold beer. Then, he went to his bathroom to assess the damage. First he washed his face with warm water, wincing when the water touched the gash under his eye. He didn’t think he’d need stiches, so he took a quick shower, threw away the bloodied shirt, and placed a bag of ice on his face before he fell asleep on the couch, his mind void of anything except the pounding headache and his aching ribs.