Page 33 of Ignite

"Maybe," I mutter.

It’s complicated. I work too much. This was a moment. A wild, beautiful night. But maybe that’s all it should be.

He grabs his clothes and yanks them on.

"Quickly put something on your neck, baby. I’ve left a mark. Something to remember me by."

I press my fingers to my throat, watching him go.

At the door, he looks back.

"Look after yourself, trouble. You know how to reach me."

Chapter 11

CONAN

Two whole days and nothing from Hallie.

I’m pining for her, and I’m pissed off at myself. Probably because I didn’t fuck her.

That’s what I tell myself. But the truth? She’s funny as hell. A firecracker with a soft heart and a stubborn streak that makes me want to bite.

I check my phone again. Still no reply from Declan. Oh, maybe my cell is broken?

I shake my head. Declan isn’t replying because he’s on his honeymoon with Charlotte this week. Drago’s watching their daughter, Isabella. But tonight, I’m on duty for Uncle Conan’s bedtime story hour.

My phone pings with a text and I nearly drop it from excitement. Which soon leaves me when I see Declan’s name, not Hallie.

Declan

I’ve sent the info to Enzo, and I’ll forward any reply. Who is he? Why are we looking into him?

Another text comes in.

Declan

Actually, don’t answer. My wife might stab me if I do any work this week. I’ll see you Monday.

One less thing to worry about. We’re looking into that slick bastard, Ben. I don’t trust him, and I sure as hell didn’t like the slimy threat he slid Hallie’s way.

Even if she never wants to see me again, she looked after me. She doesn’t deserve his bullshit.

I need to stop thinking about her.

After a quick cardio burn with the ropes, I head for my therapy—beating the shit out of the punch bag. Every jab helps bleed off the rage bottled in my chest. Keeps me sane.

My trainer quit on me last week. Said I wasn’t taking the title seriously. Then I may have accidentally punched him too hard in the nose.

He’s wrong. I’ve bled for this.

I’ve worked my ass off since we moved to the States. Yeah, I fucked up. I killed James Bowen in the underground cage. But that was then. Now, I’m clean. Undefeated. Ranked in the UFC top ten.

Win this next fight, and I’ve got a shot at the championship belt.

I pound the bag again, fists slamming harder. Kicks follow. Sweat slicks down my spine. My lungs burn. My mind still won’t shut up.

Caramel hair. Big eyes. That sweet fucking mouth.

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