Page 73 of Dirty Love

“I didn’t want that. I wanted him.”

Without warning, he backhands me across the face. I’m stunned silent, which maybe was his goal. He’s never hit me before.

“Come on,” Spencer bites out from behind me. “We don’t have much time.”

Grant gives me a hard look. “You’ve got a fight to get to, baby girl. Big, tough man thinks he’s going to save you from me. You’re going to set him straight.”

—thirty-five—

Wilson

Cole: En route. He looks…edgy.

Wilson: Acknowledged.

Twenty minutes later, I’m trying not to look for Grant in the crowd of anonymous faces filling the warehouse. After dropping Grant off in his role as a driver, Cole isn’t going to come inside—he’ll stay outside, with Jason, providing perimeter eyes and ears.

Tag should be in here, too, but he’s on my radio frequency, so he could just say something if he wanted to let me know they’d arrived.

So far, radio silence.

Part of me doesn’t want to be distracted. I’m last up for the fights tonight—and if the Feds bust us up before that, I won’t be disappointed—but I take the bouts seriously and just in case Nix is going into the ring, he’ll come out with his undefeated record intact.

I do a quick check of my phone, and Grant just placed his first bet. Except that was my my bot, as scheduled. It tells me nothing.

I should have tried to get Tabitha to put a GPS tracker on him.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda. No place in a plan for any of that.

I type in her number to check in, but before I hit call, I see him. I slide the phone back into my pocket and start to track him.

He does look edgy, and he’s searching the room quite deliberately.

My pulse picks up. He’s not confused or overwhelmed by the scene. Damn it. His gaze shifts closer, and I tense.

I see it, the moment he recognizes me. His pace slows, his jaw sets.

I’m not pretending this is a coincidence. Fuck it all to hell.

On the far side of the crowd, I make eye contact with Tag. He gives an imperceptible nod.

Grant stops ten feet from me. We’re on the outer edge of the circle of people, but they’re all facing the ring.

Nobody is really paying us any attention—yet.

“Whatever you were planning tonight, it’s not going to work,” he says, raising his voice enough for me to hear him over the din.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Bold statement if you aren’t sure what I’ve got planned. I’m just here to fight.”

“Lies!” He screams it at me, wide-eyed and unhinged. “You think you’re saving her. She’s not worth saving. Joke’s on you.”

I growl and step closer to him. “Watch what you fucking say about her. I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”

He laughs. “Too late. What’s the point? She’s already gone.”

Blood rushes to my head. “What did you do?”

“Me?” He shrugged. “Nothing. My brother, on the other hand, noticed some suspicious monetary transactions yesterday. Called me about it. Gave me shit. Thanks for that, motherfucker. I had no idea what he was talking about. So he flew down.”

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