Page 69 of The Boss
He’s mad I won this little battle. He’s afraid he’ll hurt me. He was jealous again, too. Or, maybe, he doesn’t want anyone else touching what’s his and he knows I won’t give up until I get some reps in. He surely has better things to do with his time.
To all of that I say, uh, too damn bad.
If I take one measly thing away from this time in Irish captivity it will be how to really hold my own in a fight.
First, though, a little recon. I heard a couple guys grumbling about the Italians coming to help. The Italians as in, my family, just like Papa promised when we got married.
“Heard my cousin’s coming to save your giant ass,” I start. Quinn huffs a bitter sound but doesn’t look up. “You’re not going to deny it?”
“No point, you’ll see him yourself when he arrives.”
So, Zeno is coming. At the thought of my blood cousin, one of my dearest friends since birth, here in this bizarre compound, something in me snaps.
“You better not get him shot, Quinn,” I spit. At that, his eyes jump to me but he still looks angry. “I mean it, he’s like a brother. And a good person, which is saying something in the shit world we live in. If you’re sloppy with your plans and something happens to him, I will actually kill you.”
“Huh. You’ll have to get close enough to me first. So,” he opens his stance. “Attack,” he orders, his voice flat. I hesitate, annoyed he already sounds bored. He adds, “Come on. Show me what your overpriced, secret trainer taught you.”
I clench my jaw and drop into a fighting stance, already pissed. I dart forward, faking a right jab then pivot swiftly into a leg sweep. Quinn barely shifts his weight, absorbing the blow without even a flinch.
Some men snicker off to the side, but I don’t glance away. Quinn could charge if I let down my guard.
“Out,” he calls loudly. As the men begrudgingly clear the room he says, “Your speed was decent, but your eyes gave every thought away. If I see it coming, you’re already dead. Again.”
I lunge again, trying for a wrist lock but he twists easily from my grip.
“Pathetic,” he spits, shaking his head. “Is this the Luna Mancini who was going to become Don? The woman who is going to destroy me? I don’t think so. Come on.”
Fury rises in my throat and settles on my cheeks and I hate it. I hate being embarrassed. Any ember of friendship I thought we had has just been doused with his sneer. Even if he’s just sayingshit to get me emotional, to push me, I’m over this hot and cold bullshit. His verbal jabs are hitting way too close to home.
I step back and try to keep my voice from quivering, “You and I both know, when I take you down, it’s not going to be with hand to hand combat.”
“Why train at all then?” he smirks, so damn above it all. Above me. He motions with his fingers for me to advance again.
I circle slowly, “Because something is seriously wrong with this place, and when an attack comes, which I’m positive it will because you’re so smug out here with your acreage and your walls, just begging to be taken down a notch.” He huffs a laugh but I go on, “So when that day arrives and you all go down in flames, and I have to fight my way out of this hell hole, I’d prefer to live.”
My circle purposefully baits him into relaxing his guard. Without warning, I feint high—a convincing right hook—but I drop sharply instead, sliding into a quick scissor sweep, my legs slicing toward his ankles.
It almost works! Quinn stumbles slightly, a flicker of surprise in his night-black eyes, but his reflexes are too fast. He shifts, pivots, and immediately counters by hooking his foot under my leg, sending me sprawling onto my back. I hit the mat hard, the impact rattling through my spine.
“Better,” he mocks coldly. “But just barely. Still amateur hour.”
“Then quit insulting me and fucking teach me,” I snap, my voice tighter than I want.
His eyes darken as he replies, “This is me teaching. Move faster. Quit broadcasting your moves and use a hell of a lot more strength, or this is just a waste of my time.”
I swallow what’s left of my pride, eyes stinging, and channel my embarrassment into rage. I clench my teeth, pushing quickly onto one knee. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me get emotional.
Without hesitation, I surge upward, hooking my arm under his elbow, twisting sharply into an arm bar. For one brief second, I’ve got him! Tension locked perfectly in my grip—
But in less than a breath he effortlessly reverses my hold, spinning me around and pulling my back flush against his chest. His arm bands like steel around my waist, trapping me. I squirm uselessly then scream out in frustration.
“Come on, Mancini,” he chides against my ear. “Anyone could read that move from a mile away.”
“You think you know me so well?” I grunt. He doesn’t respond so I huff, “Yeah I know you too, Quinn. I know you’re no psycho maniac. I bet you don’t even decapitate people.”
“Such a beautiful little liar, my wife,” his warm breath barely touches the skin of my neck, and even though I hate him, my body betrays me. A violent shiver runs down my spine. Furious at my involuntary reaction, I jam my elbow backward, aiming for his ribs. Quinn catches my wrist easily, locking my arm tight against my stomach, pulling me even closer into him.
“You fight like you’re in a class,” he growls. “A real enemy won’t take any turns, follow any rules. Won’t show an inch of restraint..”
