Page 101 of The Deceptions
He blinks several times before a chuckle erupts from him. It's low and rumbly, making my stomach swoop. But he's still on my shitlist. No matter how many cute smiles he throws my way.
"You'd better go back and get checked out. Medical is back there in an office waiting."
"I think their priority should be the asshole I knocked flat on his back." I take another step, determined to leave this conversation. I can't get too comfortable with them and let my guard down. No matter how many emotions it’s stirring inside me. I don't want to laugh with him. I want to take him down. It's all about pretending that I'm not the girl he abandoned.
Hux doesn't say another word before climbing out of the ring first and making his way toward the table in the corner. Once he's seated, Mack frowns at him, saying something I can't quite read on his lips. Hux's furious glare burns through Mack, and he pounds a fist on the table. Mack shrugs, grinning maniacally at Hux until they're in a heated conversation.
"Dude," Jordy says, putting a hand over my shoulders as he leads me back into the locker room. "You good?" he breathes,leading me to the back of the place for privacy. He forcefully sets me on the bench with a huff.
"Define good," I groan, rubbing my jaw. I can tell there's going to be a bruise there.
Jordy sits me on a metal bench, bending to look me in the eyes. He examines me thoroughly, shaking his head. "You could have fucking died," he hisses with worry.
"Um, yeah. I could have died at any fucking time," I groan, rubbing my temple. "I thought you had faith in me?" I raise a brow when his face slightly falls.
"I always have faith in you, Liv. But fuck. It was like watching my baby sister about to meet her end." His eyes widen, shaking his head. “Don’t do that shit again.” Like he could stop me from coming here on my own. I can take these motherfuckers. All at once. Well, maybe that’s a little too cocky for me. But still. I’m a badass woman.
"I'm older than you." I roll my eyes and lean closer. "I didn't really have a choice. Even if he knocked me out. I had to..." I trail off, darting my eyes through the empty locker room. The only sounds come from the far end, which I assume are the medical students eagerly awaiting patients.
"Fuck," Jordy whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. "I know you had to. I know we get into some shit situations, but I think you should stay away from this place." He gives me a pointed look.
"And why is that?"
"Because they're blood thirsty motherfuckers, and you just punched out an undefeated champion who will want revenge." He raises a brow to emphasize his point.
I shrug. "I go wherever the job takes me," I mutter.
"Let me see the damage." Jordy stands tall, waving a hand for me to raise my shirt so he can see where the big oaf got a punch in. "How do your ribs feel?"
"Like shit," I grumble truthfully. Which doesn't fare well for me. They're already aching from his punch, maybe they're deeply bruised or worse, broken. That would make wearing my bindings more difficult.
"Only you would get into this bullshit," he mutters under his breath as I slowly rise from the metal bench. My eyes dart around again when I turn my back to the large open space and stand before Jordy.
"Si is hanging out at the bar. It's just you and me right now." His eyes dart in the same direction. "But who knows for how long. So... show me your tits." He smirks and then grunts when I throw a fist into his arm too quickly for him to step back or block. His smile broadens.
"Stop it," I cringe, lifting my shirt and peeling my binder up, grunting when it attempts to stick to my skin and pushes on my injury. "Fuck.” I thank the skies for my binder, it does a damn good job of hiding my breasts, but it's so tight it's almost impossible to lift for him to examine my aching ribs.
"Oh, yeah," Jordy hisses, rearing back. "He got you fucking good. This is going to hurt like a motherfucker for a month or so." His eyes lift to mine, concern glistening through them. "Are you going to be okay? Oliver can have an emergency back home."
"I'll be fine," I grunt, shoving my bindings back into place and lowering my shirt before anyone gets a glimpse of what I’m hiding. "Maybe another drink or something?" Seriously, more drinks will help to dull the ache of that brute’s punches. Besides, I need to come to terms with my new reality.
Brutus is going to murder me for knocking him out. Plain and simple. Maybe I should have Jordy plan my actual funeral. One better than my last. With flowers, more tears, and people who actually love me in attendance.
"Liv," he groans, shaking his head, but stops when he sees the serious expression crossing my face. "I can't talk you into returning to your dorm, can I?"
"What are you, my father?" I quip, squaring my shoulders and ignoring the twinge in my ribs. No, scratch that. All over my damn body. Is it possible to already feel like I’ve been hit by a train? I mean, I guess that’s what Brutus is—a damn train. "It was just a little hit. I'll be fine." It hurts like a bitch, but I can tell by the way Jordy is looking at me protectively that he wants to argue, take me to my bed, and force me to rest. That's the thing about unblood brothers, they're really overprotective and compassionate when they aren't being pains in the asses.
My brows furrow when a noise like slamming lockers catches my attention. "That's our cue," I murmur, nodding toward the sound. “Cover me?” He nods, crossing his arms over his chest and turning on his heels. I know he wants to say more about me sticking around the fights. But I have more recon to do. Not to mention, Malic, Wilder, Hux, and Mack are all fighting each other—I can’t miss that.
Quickly, I get dressed back into my baggy clothes. They’ve become an odd comfort this past week, hiding who I really am. They’re my mask against Greenwood U’s weirdness.
"Well, this was definitely more fun than attempting to find a thief who doesn't want to be found," Jordy murmurs, walking beside me as we slowly make our way through the maze of the locker room. It still astonishes me that they've developed an entire fighting venue here, fit with power and everything, considering it sits on a hill in the middle of the woods. I wonder if Franco helped to fund this venture for them and if he makes a profit from their earnings.
"Any leads on that?" I press. He's been very tight-lipped about his case. Only indicating he was after a thief who stolemillions of dollars’ worth of paintings from a museum without getting caught.
"Nope. I think they might be a ghost or something. There's Nada on the surveillance footage. I’m going to have to recruit some newbie agents to come and help me infiltrate whatever they have going on," he says in a low voice, trying to keep it from echoing throughout the room. "Anything on your end?" He eyes me.
I snort, looking around before stopping. "It's weird here, right? Like… the vibe..."
