Anna

Seventy-one hours until the fight.

I had a timer of fear ticking in my head. I was going to lose my mind.

I’d called Adam and texted him a few times since Sunday, but he never answered his phone or responded to my messages. I had assumed he would want some space, but I didn’t expect total radio silence.

He could have sent a one-word response, at the very least.

When we parted Sunday night, I’d had that sinking feeling that I was losing him.

“I don’t think you should go through with the fight Saturday,” I had pleaded into his voicemail last night. I have a bad feeling about it, Adam—a real bad feeling, I had texted him this morning.

And now I was two blocks away from Hannigan’s gym where Adam had been training the last few weeks. I just couldn’t give him the space he had asked for. In my heart, I didn’t believe he needed it. What he needed was someone in his corner, whether he went through with the fight or not.

I fastened the straps of my coat as a cold breeze beat against my shoulders. My teeth clicked together, but more from nerves than from the cold.

My heart tapped inside my chest like the feet of an Irish folk dancer as I neared. Through the clear glass walls of the studio, I could see him—Adam.

I remembered my first morning in Dublin when I’d encountered him standing shirtless in Les’s kitchen. I’d been mesmerized by his body. Now, seeing him face off, shirtless, against another fighter, a part of me feared the powerful ripple of his muscles.

I couldn’t believe it had all come to this. I’d left Kentucky to escape Jax and to follow my dreams, and now I was standing twenty feet away from a man who made me feel more than I could ever bottle up.

Just go in. Jesus. I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of confronting the man who had been avoiding my messages the last few days, or afraid of seeing any more of the jerks who were affiliated with Donovan. My cold fingers trembled as I wrapped them around the metal door handle.

Adam had his guard raised.

I swallowed as I approached the ring, aware that the men were all looking my way as I passed heavy bags and workout mats.

But my eyes never left Adam.

He circled his opponent, and the movement brought me into his line of vision. His guard lowered as his brows furrowed together, his blue eyes on me. “Enough for now,” I heard him say. He ducked under the ropes and climbed down.

My eyes found the base of his throat as he closed the gap between us. I was too afraid to look him in the eyes.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low.

I dragged my gaze up to his strong chin and finally met his cool blue eyes. They were the color of the water—like the water from the day we’d taken his bike out for a drive. God, that felt like years ago.

“We need to talk,” I whispered before tugging my lip between my teeth. “I know you said you needed space this week, but I’m freaking out.”

He swiped a gloved hand over his head and looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

He reached for my elbow and angled his head toward the door. “Come on.”

“You must be Anna Drake. I’ve heard so much about you.”

The voice was deep and raspy.

“And you are?” I looked up at the man that had come up next to Adam. Adam stiffened and arched his shoulders back, but he kept his hand wrapped around my elbow in a possessive—or maybe protective—way.

“Donovan Hannigan. Pleased to meet you, Miss Drake.”

Donovan? Oh God. Oh God.

“She was just leaving,” Adam grumbled.

“Why in such a hurry? Stay for a while and watch Adam fight. It’s a thing of beauty,” Donovan said with a grin.

“It’s late, and she needs to go.” Adam hadn’t given me time to think, let alone respond. “Come on, Anna.” He gently pulled at my elbow, nodding toward the door.

“Goodbye, Miss Drake,” Donovan said as I allowed Adam to guide me away.

The cold air slapped me in the face, but it was what I needed to snap out of panic mode. “That was him?” I croaked once we were safely on the sidewalk.

Adam released his grip and rubbed his thin gloved hands down his face. Jeez. He would freeze out here without a shirt on. Of course, he didn’t seem the least bit affected. What the hell?

“Adam . . .”

“This was a stupid idea, coming here. Not safe at all.” He crossed his arms, which made me feel a little better. Maybe his biceps would keep him warm.

“I know, but I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left your house Sunday. I’m worried about the fight. I know you’ll win, but I’m afraid of what happens after. I’m afraid you may not be able to stop fighting . . . or that you might not want to.”

There, I’d said it.

I waited impatiently for him to reassure me, but he didn’t speak. He only stared at me with parted lips.

“Adam, please,” I said, hating the silence.

He raised his arm out in front of me and pointed at something or someone inside the gym. “You see that guy in the blue shirt? Well, he’s Garda. Police. And the guy he’s wrestling is a politician’s son.” He lowered his arm and stared down at the cobblestone pavement.

“What are you trying to say? What’s your point?”

“Donovan’s protected.”

“You were able to get away from him before.”

“Things are different,” he rasped.

“Then you’ll have to do it differently,” I insisted. “You have to get out of this. I’m so afraid that if you step into that ring on Saturday, I’ll lose you. I said I trusted you, but I—”

“You shouldn’t trust me. I tried to tell you that.” When he looked at me, his eyes were blank, his face an unreadable mask.

I didn’t recognize the hollow eyes looking back at me.

“You can’t have both, remember?” I pointed to the tattoo on the inside of his forearm. “Did you lie to me Sunday?” I took a step back, my body shaking. “Did you never plan to find a way out?” I shook my head. “You want to give up everything just to do that bastard’s bidding?” I yelled, my own voice surprising me as I pointed to the gym.

Adam bent his head forward and shoved his hands in his sweat pockets.

“Say something. Please.” I reached for his arm, scared now that he was already gone. Hadn’t our reconciliation last weekend meant anything? It was starting to feel like a sick joke. “Tell me I’m wrong,” I begged, my eyes welling with tears.

His body was like steel—he didn’t budge an inch.

“Adam,” I cried.

“I have to fight, Anna,” he finally said, his voice raw.

“But you don’t.”

“But I do.” He jerked his arm away from me and stepped back. My hand fell to my side as I looked up at him.

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else. The words died on the edge of my tongue.

* * *

My stomach lurched, and my skin grew clammy. Adam would be stepping into the ring tonight. This might be it. Maybe he would fight this last time, and that would be it for him.

But I doubted it.

I hadn’t tried to reach out to him again after our confrontation at the gym. I knew better. Still, I couldn’t get him off my mind.

What if he got hurt?

I thought about what happened to Owen, the man he’d paralyzed five years ago. What if Adam killed someone this time?

I circled my fingertip around the rim of my wine glass and stared down at the burgundy liquid. I’d barely touched it, but I needed to drink something if I was going to survive the night. Kate was out on a date, so I had the large apartment to myself.

I glanced at my wristwatch.

Nine o’clock. Adam’s fight was at ten.

I raised the wine to my lips, hoping to calm my nerves, but a sudden knock at the door had me lowering my glass.

My heart raced in my chest. Was it Adam? I knew I was stupidly hopeful, especially since he seemed to have changed his tune between Sunday and Wednesday.

I set the glass down on the coffee table in front of me and rushed to the door. I didn’t bother to check the peephole—I swung it open as fast as I could. A glimmer of hope glided through me. It was a McGregor.

But not the one I’d wanted.

“Hi, Holly. What are you doing here?”

Wearing skinny jeans, brown boots, and a cream-colored sweater, she looked like she’d stepped out of a catalog. I dropped my gaze to my outfit. Ugh. I was wearing sweats and a graphic tee.

Holly pushed her long locks to her back and cocked her head to the side. “Can I come in?”

I’d been standing like a statue in the middle of the doorway. “Sorry. Come in.” I stepped back, and she slowly walked past me, her coat draped over her arm.

I shut the door and waited to see what she wanted.

She glanced around the foyer of the apartment.

“How’d you know I was at Kate’s?” I asked, folding my arms.

Holly’s eyes flashed my way. “This was the address you listed at the office.”

Oh yeah. I had changed it after I moved out of the hotel.

“So, why are you here?”

“Well, I was sitting around my flat staring at the clock. My nerves totally shot. I thought that maybe you’d be losing your mind, too. Maybe you’d want company.” She slipped a hand inside her enormous, brown and gold designer bag and produced a bottle of wine. “Looks like you had the same idea.” She tipped her head toward my wine glass.

“Um.” I didn’t know what to say. Did she know Adam and I were, well, not so much an “Adam and I” anymore? Based on our last conversation, I was pretty sure we were done.

We were done, right?

God, how naïve was I to even question it? And yet some idiot part of me clung to the idea that Adam would apologize, explain, and all would be well.

“Have you ever seen Adam fight?” I walked to the temporary bar that Kate had set up in the living room and grabbed a long-stemmed wine glass for Holly. I poured her a drink from my already opened bottle.

“Thanks,” she answered softly as she dropped her coat on the couch. She lifted the drink from my fingers.

I, too, reached for my glass. I was more in need of alcohol now than I had ever been.

Holly’s nails tapped at the wine glass, and she looked up at me. “He almost killed my boyfriend when I was younger, but Sean stopped him. Good thing. But I’ve never seen him fight in the ring.” She cleared her throat. “Have you?”

I sank to the couch, and Holly joined me a moment later, sitting next to me. “I saw him by accident.”

Holly’s perfectly arched brows rose as she sipped her wine.

“It was awful.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay tonight? The other guy is undefeated, too, and I’m kind of nervous.” She lowered her glass and held it tight between both palms. “Okay, maybe a lot nervous.”

“Me too.”

“What if we—”

I straightened, my shoulders rolling back. “Go?” Were we really discussing this? Adam might lose his mind if he saw me there.

She sighed. “I think we should go. I think he needs someone in his corner. He’d never admit it, but . . .”

I was already nodding my head. “I’ll find out where it is.” I jumped up and rushed to the kitchen for my phone. I scrolled through my contacts and called Rick. My fingers clawed at my jeaned thighs as I waited for him to answer.

“Anna, hey.”

I cut the pleasantries and sputtered, “I need you to call your brother. I need you to ask him where tonight’s fight will be.”

“You okay?” Rick asked, his voice full of worry.

“No, I’m not. So . . . can you help me? Please.” I peeked at Adam’s sister out of the corner of my eye, still not quite believing she was here.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks, Rick. Text me the location as soon as you know it.”

“You want to tell me what this is all about?”

“No.” I hung up. It was rude, but I wasn’t ready to get into it.

I clutched my phone tight in my hand as I waited impatiently for a response. “I should probably change.”

Holly gave me a half smile and went back to her wine, her eyes seeming dazed as she stared at the coffee table in front of her.

“Okay. Well, I’ll be right back.” I darted into my bedroom. What the hell do I wear to a fight that I’ve not been invited to, where the guy I’m falling for is about to pound the shit out of someone?

I opted for jeans, boots, and a sweater. I started to turn but stopped.

Adam’s leather jacket was hanging in my closet. He’d given it to me on Sunday before I’d left his home.

I grabbed it and put it on. I shut my eyes and raised a sleeve to my nose, inhaling his piney scent.

The sound of a text had my eyes opening, and I rushed to my bed.

“I got the address!”