Fighting For Irish (A Fighting for Love Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (20 page)

Kat reeled. The world fell out of focus briefly…and then everything became crystal clear. So this was what it felt like to fall down the rabbit hole. The safe world she thought she’d been living in for the past couple of weeks was replaced by one where nothing was as it seemed. One where the man she loved was risking his safety and his career for
her
.

Oh, no. Just like Nessie tried to do. No, no, no.
She couldn’t let him destroy his future to save hers. It wasn’t worth it.

Releasing Xander, Kat turned back to the fight. The crowd seemed to have gotten louder, but maybe that was because now she needed to get Irish’s attention. She screamed his name as the men shoved off from each other and squared up in the center again.

“Don’t you dare lose this fight, do you hear me?” He did because his gaze flicked to her before returning to the brute across from him. “This was never your problem! I’ll leave town, and they’ll follow me!”

In a lightning-quick move that proved he hadn’t been fighting near his full potential, Irish threw a left-right combo that ended with his fist in his opponent’s groin. The audience empathized with a collective groan as the guy covered his balls and doubled over. The ref called a timeout, but Irish was already stalking in her direction.

He pulled out his mouth guard with one hand and used the other to point at her through one of the holes in the cage. “Don’t even fucking think about it. You leave town, and you’re as good as dead.”

“I dodged them once; I can do it again.”

“They have a tracker on you, Kat,” he yelled. “That’s what that thing is in your forearm.”

Chills tripped down her spine as she rubbed her thumb over the small bump. That they’d known her every step for weeks made her want to throw up. Instead she lifted her chin and tried projecting a determination she didn’t yet feel. “I’ll get it out.”

“Goddammit,
listen
to me.” Lowering to his haunches, Irish got as close to her as the cage allowed. “They know about your sister. They threatened to bring her in to Sicoli if you ran.”

All the blood drained from her head. If it wasn’t for Xander steadying her she would have collapsed where she stood. “Kat!” Irish hit the cage with an open palm, snapping her to attention. “Just stay with Xan and let me handle this, okay?”

She nodded despite the terror snaking its way up her spine. Satisfied with her agreement, Irish unfolded to his full height. Standing there in his shorts and fingerless gloves, fists and jaw clenched, he looked every bit the warrior she knew him to be. As scared as she was, she trusted him with her life—literally.

The ref called for the fighters. She watched him turn and walk to the center of the cage, every step taking him closer to the moment that would put an end to her trouble…and an end to his second chance.

Kat clasped her hands together and pressed them to her mouth. With Vanessa’s life on the line, she couldn’t afford to think of the down sides for her or Irish. Surely this underground tournament wasn’t the only way for him to regain his place in the world of MMA. Once all this was over, she’d do whatever it took to get him another shot. Then she’d only owe him a couple dozen more huge favors to make them even.

The fight resumed. Kat’s eyes darted in a continuous circle: Irish, digital clock, thugs. Repeat. This round wasn’t nearly as active as the previous two. The other guy was doing a lot of leg kicks to the inside of Irish’s knee and dancing around, but not much else. Less than two minutes remained on the clock. If something didn’t happen soon, the fight would be over.

She leaned into Xander. “Why isn’t anything happening?”

“The wanker’s not entirely stupid. He’s clearly won the first two rounds, so all he has to do is survive the third to win the fight.”

“Does his deal count if he loses by decision?”

Xander shook his head. “Has to be by knockout or submission in the third round.” As they talked, Irish started getting more aggressive. He pressed the fight, punched harder. At one point he even taunted the other guy. “He’s trying to make him throw something or go in for a takedown. To do that he’ll have to either piss him off or make him think there’s a chance he’s about to lose.”

Those sounded like long shots. Maybe worse than long shots. She’d have more confidence if Xander didn’t look just as worried. He had a shitty poker face.

Kat glanced at the clock. Forty-five seconds. Her stomach roiled and acid crept up her throat. She swallowed it down, wincing from the burn. Leaning back slightly she found Sully and Vinnie in the back. Scowls darkened their faces as they took note of the clock ticking down what little time was left in the fight. Sully said something to Vinnie and they started moving toward the aisle, keeping an eye on the fight, the clock…and her.

Shit!

When Irish noticed the thugs making their way to the front, rage flashed over his face. Spitting out his mouth guard, he held his arms out wide and shouted at his opponent. He was clearly antagonizing him, although with the crowd’s deafening shouts it was impossible to hear what he said. The other fighter continued to bounce on his toes, and then winked at Irish with a smug, plastic-filled grin.

Irish roared and threw a right cross that had his target spinning around, his face leading as the rest of his body attempted to untwist itself before falling in a boneless heap at the ref’s feet.

Time slowed to a crawl. She prayed the man would get up and counter with something even remotely convincing so Irish could fake a believable loss. But her prayers went unanswered. The man didn’t move and the ref called the fight, raising Irish’s hand as the winner.

Then all hell broke loose.

The crowd went wild and some of them rushed the cage to celebrate with the winner. Irish was stuck in the sea of fans that now resembled a mosh pit at a grunge concert, but he still had his height advantage that allowed him to see the same thing she did: the bad guys closing in.

“Kat, run! Go! Get out of here!”

She never shook her head so hard in her life. “I’m not going anywhere without you!”

He shouted a string of curses and used his broad shoulders to shove his way through the throng. Kat looked over her shoulder. The thugs were now pushing people out of their way. Xander picked up Irish’s duffel bag in one hand and grabbed onto Kat’s arm with the other.

At last Irish emerged, his gloves already off. He jumped and hauled himself up onto the padded top of the fence, then dropped over to the outside. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he dug through his bag as Xan held it for him.

Kat gripped his arm. “What are you doing? We have to go!”

His still-taped hand emerged holding her gun, which he pointed straight into the air and shot off twice. The mass of fight fans panicked. They pushed in every direction for the nearest exit only to tangle themselves up more and more.

Irish leaned in to say something to Xander, then grabbed onto her hand and said, “Don’t let go and don’t look back!”

She nodded, but she didn’t think he noticed. He was too busy pulling her in the direction of the hall they’d come from earlier. Once they reached it, they broke into a dead run. Their steps echoed in the cement tunnel, making it sound like a posse was hot on their heels. They burst through the metal door at the end, into the gravel parking lot that had already started filling with the panic-stricken fans.

“Where’s your car?”

Kat pointed off to the right. “Over there in the very back.”

They took off running again, but they didn’t get far before they heard the men following their lead. Her heart jackhammered against her ribs so hard her chest ached. A second later a gunshot sounded and struck a car next to them. Kat ducked and screamed.

“Come on!” Irish pulled her up and wove them through the maze of cars. “I see it. Almost there!”

The pandemonium spread over the parking lot. Shouts and screams mixed with slamming doors and spinning tires. Fear had a death grip on her throat, severing her voice. She couldn’t get a full breath. Several more gunshots rang out and peppered the ground and vehicles around them, and still she ran with her eyes locked on Irish. Her protector. Her lifeline.

With only one more row separating them and her car, he ordered her to go on ahead, get into the passenger seat, and start the engine. The thought of leaving him behind scared the hell out of her, but the fact that he planned on driving the car said he had no intentions of not catching up. Bolting ahead, she grabbed her keys from her purse and unlocked the passenger door as fast as her shaking hands allowed.

As she yanked it open, she heard more gunshots. Unable to stop herself, she looked back to see Irish running toward her with Sully and Vinnie close behind. He yelled for her to start the car, effectively ending her frozen-in-fear moment. Seconds later, she watched Irish slide across the hood and then fling himself around the drivers’ door she’d opened. Throwing the car into gear, he pushed her head down and took off.

They didn’t speak for several minutes. The only sounds were that of the car and their panting as they both tried to catch their breath. When he finally lifted his hand from her back, she eased herself up and looked over at him. Both hands gripped the wheel tightly, the muscles in his arms twitching from tension. Determination and seething anger warred on his face in the set of his brow and the clenching of his jaw.

She noticed he never once glanced at the rearview or side mirrors, whereas she wanted to turn full around and watch for any tails. He appeared so wrapped up in his thoughts that Kat wondered if he remembered she was there. She was almost afraid to speak, but she had to know what he was thinking.

Glancing at the side mirror, she asked, “How long do you think it’ll be before they catch up with us?”

“I saw their Caddy as we were running, so I shot their tires out. It should give us a good enough head start until we can get rid of everything they can use to find us.”

She rubbed a finger over the bump in her forearm. “Like my tracker,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” he agreed reluctantly. “Like that.”

He grunted as he shifted in his seat. And that’s when she saw the blood.

Chapter Seventeen

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “You’ve been
shot
.”

Aiden didn’t bother looking at the gash in his side again. The thing stung like a son of a bitch, so he wasn’t likely to forget it was there.

“It’s just a graze, sweetheart.” He slid her a wry grin. “I’ll live.”

“But it’s from a
bullet
and— Oh my God, you need a doct—”

“Hey,” he said, cupping her chin and holding her gaze between glances back at the road. “Don’t go getting hysterical on me now. It looks worse than it is. I can fix this myself. I’m gonna be just fine, all right?” Kat’s eyes were wide and misty, but she blinked back the tears and nodded. He dropped his hand to her lap and threaded his fingers through hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“So now what do we do?”

Her voice sounded small and uncertain like she had when this whole thing started. Over the last couple of weeks, when she’d thought the danger was gone, Kat had shed that scared persona and become a vibrant woman who smiled easily and laughed often. And now that woman was gone as though she’d never existed. Just another reason to end every motherfucker who had a hand in threatening her.

“We’re meeting up with Xander to trade cars. He’ll drive yours in the opposite direction and stash it somewhere so they’re thrown off our trail. We’ll hole up in a motel for the night.”

She nodded again and remained silent until they met Xander at a busy truck stop on Highway 10. Xan had followed Aiden’s instructions and stopped at Kat’s to grab her some clothes and Murphy. He didn’t know how long they’d be on the lam until he could figure out how to rectify the situation for good, and the last thing she needed was to worry about the kitten.

Xander got out of his Nova holding Murphy. As soon as she saw his gray fur, she flipped into Mom-mode and scooped him into her arms. While she was busy cooing over the fur ball in the passenger seat, Aiden and Xan moved to the trunk where Aiden’s duffel was stored.

“Holy shite, mate, what the fuck happened to you?”

Aiden unzipped his bag and took out the pair of athletic sandals and the black wifebeater he’d worn to the arena earlier. Reaching into the front of his shorts, he removed the protective cup from the crotch of his compression shorts, essentially turning them into nothing more than boxer briefs, and dropped it into the bag. Then he carefully slipped his feet into the sandals and tried to ignore the stinging from the cuts he’d gotten by running full-speed over gravel.

“Bullet grazed me. Mostly their aim sucked, but I let them get too close when I made a detour to shoot out their tires.”

Xan whistled and opened up the large first-aid kit to grab the things needed for a quick patch job, something fighters were used to doing themselves instead of going to the doctor for every little thing. Once the blood was wiped clean, they smeared the wound with antibacterial ointment and taped a bunch of gauze over it. He’d have to do better than that later, but it’d do the trick until then.

Aiden pulled his tank on, hissing through the pain when he lifted his right arm too far. He gathered more alcohol wipes, ointment, and a big Band-Aid, then tossed the kit in his duffel before taking it with him.

Xan closed the trunk. As they rounded the side of the car, he said, “Your wallet is in the glove box along with an envelope of cash. There’s a couple grand in there, so don’t go doing anything daft like using your credit cards.”

“Thanks, man, I owe you.”

“Just don’t get yourselves killed.”

“What a coincidence,” Aiden muttered. “That was my plan, too. Do me a favor, will ya? Grab some bottles of water and snacks. I don’t know if she’ll feel faint after this, but if she does, maybe getting something in her will help.”

Xan clapped him on the shoulder and headed to the gas-station-slash-diner. Aiden took a deep breath then slid into the driver seat, setting his duffel next to him.

Kat looked up from petting a napping Murphy in her lap. The peaceful grin melted from her face when she spotted the supplies he held. He resented the need to bring her back to reality, but every minute they delayed put them that much closer to being caught.

“We gotta take out the tracker, sweetheart. You ready?”

She swallowed hard but nodded bravely. He riffled through his bag and retrieved a large pocketknife and the towel he would have used to dry off with after the fight.

“First a gun then a knife. You really come prepared, don’t you?”

He smiled, hoping it appeared more genuine than it felt. “Recent events have had me thinking more like a Boy Scout, I guess.” After laying the folded towel on the bag between them, he got to work sterilizing the blade with the alcohol wipes. “Okay, put your arm on the towel. You want something to bite down on?”

She shook her head. “Just hurry and get it over with,” she said through a clenched jaw. “I want the fucking thing out.”

Aiden steeled himself as he peered at the small bump on the underside of her forearm. He wasn’t typically squeamish when it came to blood or gaping cuts, but that was when they were on him or his friends. They were used to sucking up the pain and dealing with shit like that. But the idea of the woman he loved having to deal with it, much less that
he
would be the one to inflict the pain, was enough to make his stomach twist in knots.

“Okay, baby, listen to me. I want you to keep your eyes on Murphy. I’ll do this as fast as I can, and then we’re outta here. Deal?”

Again she nodded and then cast her watery gaze downward to where the kitten was still snuggled in her lap. He used the fingers of his left hand to hold her skin tight over the oblong tracker no bigger than a grain of rice. Then he guided the tip of the knife to make a small incision over the top. A tiny whimper escaped her throat, but he wouldn’t let himself look up to check on her. If he did that, he’d want to stop, and that wasn’t an option.

Setting the knife aside, he used his thumbs to press in on the sides of the incision. Rivulets of blood ran out from the cut to soak into the towel below, but a moment later the tracker slid out rather easily. He set it in a gauze square, then quickly cleaned and bandaged the cut. When it was over, he slid across the bench seat and gathered her into his arms. She buried her head in his neck where the wetness on his skin from her tears felt like she’d turned the blade on him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, kitten,” he whispered at her ear. “The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you like that. I’m gonna make those bastards pay for everything they’ve done to you. I swear it.”

She sniffed and pulled back to wipe her face and offer him a weak smile. “I’m fine. A few ibuprofen, and I’ll be as good as new.”

Unable to help himself, he kissed her and reveled in the softness of her lips and the way she melted into him. A knock on the window by Xander broke them apart and set their plan in motion once again.

Aiden accepted the plastic bag of waters and snacks and gave the tracker to his friend, who tossed it into Kat’s car.

“Right,” Xan started. “I’ll go stash the car. I’ve already set it up with Anders to come and collect me and Murphy. He said we can stay with him for a few days, no questions asked.”

“Sounds good. With any luck, if they show up at the house, Ally’ll put that bad temper to good use.”

“Aye, that would be something, wouldn’t it?” Xander walked around and leaned in through Kat’s open window. “Come on, lass, give ol’ Xan a hug.”

She did, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing. “Thank you so much, Xander. For everything.” When she finally released the rough-and-tough Yorkie, his eyes looked suspiciously misty.

“It’s been my pleasure, pet.”

Kat gathered Murphy in her hands, kissed his little nose, and handed him over to Xander. Feeling the urgency tugging on him, Aiden moved his duffel to the backseat and started the Nova. The engine roared to life, strong and steady, promising to carry them as far as they needed to be safe for the night.

Xander had crossed back around to his side. Leaning down, he pinned Aiden with a somber stare. “You know, Aid, maybe you should think about ringing Joey. I know the local law enforcement isn’t an option. Maybe he’d be able to help, or at least tell you of someone else who can.”

“Forget it, Xan,” he said tightly. “I’m not opening that fucking can of worms. I’ll figure this out on my own.”

Xander’s disappointment showed, but he didn’t press the issue. Aiden didn’t like leaving on a sour note with the man who’d been his best friend for the last several years, but he didn’t have time to fix it. He needed to get Kat the hell away from that tracker. And with that single thought riding him, he said good-bye to his friend and drove away.

…

“Who’s Joey?”

They’d been driving on the highway in silence for the last twenty minutes since leaving the truck stop. Kat was exhausted and her arm hurt and she’d reached her limit of playing the Alphabet Game as a means of mental distraction.

“We were best friends from the time we were in diapers. Our moms were friends, and we grew up on the same block.”

Irish may have decided to appease her need for conversation, but the way his left arm tensed as he gripped the wheel a little harder made her think he wasn’t all that thrilled about it. Unfortunately for him, her curiosity was piqued enough to push for any information he would give her about him and his past. There was so much she wanted to know, to understand.

“But you aren’t friends anymore?”

The muscle in his jaw jumped. “No.”

Tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled in warning. Something was telling her to shut the hell up. Maybe it was her intuition, or maybe he was silently praying she’d stop prying. Either way, she ignored it.

“Why not?”

“It’s hard to maintain a friendship when you kill a guy’s little sister.”

Kat sighed. “Damn, Irish, even I know you’re not supposed to date your best friend’s sister. How badly did you break her heart?”

“I didn’t
break
it, Kat,” he said, his voice razor sharp. “I stopped it.”

“Yeah, but…you mean that metaphorically. Right?”

“I mean for the last five years, she’s been six feet underground, and I’m the one who put her there.”

“Irish, no.” She shook her head. There must be some mistake. “You could never.”

Kat stared at his profile as it blinked in and out of the streetlamps shining through the windshield. He didn’t respond for what seemed like forever and when he did it was flat, lifeless. “Just because you don’t want something to be true doesn’t mean it isn’t.” He glanced in her direction and softened his tone. “You know that.”

She did know it. How many times over the years had she wished her reality was something better? Hundreds. And yet it remained just as ugly as it had been the day before.

“I don’t understand. How?”

“It doesn’t matter how.”

Kat turned her body, resting her left arm along the seat back. “Of course it matters. Are we talking something like a stabbing? Or something like you gave her a bite of your cashew chicken not knowing she was deathly allergic to nuts?”

Irish dragged a taped hand down his extra-scruffy face. Suddenly he looked exhausted. But not the kind he’d have from a long day or a tough fight. The bone-weary kind a person gets when he’s been carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders for too damn long.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Nothing can bring her back.”

Scooting into the middle of the bench, she used her left hand to lightly massage the base of his neck. “I know, but it’s not her I’m worried about. You’ll be joining her before too long if you continue to live with this guilt you don’t deserve.”

He scoffed. “I deserve every fucking drop of guilt I have.”

“It must have been an accident. You would never hurt a friend intentionally.”

“Not for nothing, sweetheart, but you don’t know that.”

“I see,” she said stiffly as she resumed her position on the passenger side. The man had a knack for firing her blood, only this time it wasn’t with desire. He was pissing her off. “I guess I have to wonder how much of what you’ve said to me is total bullshit, then.”

Irish cut her a sidelong glance. “What are you talking about?”

“You said I should trust my instincts when I recognize the goodness in others, but clearly you didn’t mean it.”

“The hell I didn’t.”

“Then you need to acknowledge that I recognize the goodness in
you
. And, unless you can tell me why I should feel differently, there is
no way
I’ll ever believe you killed that girl.”

He jerked the wheel to the right, barely making the exit they’d almost passed. If not for her quick reflexes, she’d be facedown in his lap right now. Pulling onto the shoulder of the off-ramp, he cut the engine and turned to face her, anger edging his features.

“You sure you wanna hear this?”

She banished the trace of uncertainty from the back of her mind and met his challenge with a lift of her chin. “Absolutely.”

A hint of sadness flashed through his eyes before the hardness returned. “Fine. Like I said, our mothers were close friends, so Janey was like my third sister and Joey felt the same about mine. We didn’t live in a great neighborhood, so there were plenty of times when we had to protect ourselves and our sisters. But no matter what, Joey and I never ran scared. We dealt with every bully and badass. Only his way of dealing with things was different from mine.”

Kat’s pulse picked up speed, making her cut throb with every beat and her breathing shallow. She dared not move or ask any questions. Irish had finally decided to open up to her. Regardless of whether the decision was borne of frustration or not, she wasn’t about to look the pissed-off gift horse in the mouth.

“Joey preferred to talk his way out of things. Not that he was afraid to fight, ’cause the guy could throw down if he had to. But fighting was always his last resort. Cool as a cucumber, that was Joey.

“Then there was me. I had a short fuse with heavy hands, and I never hesitated to use them. Everyone knew, they fucked with me I’d fuck with them right back. Joey was the peacemaker and I was the brawler, so it was no surprise that he became a cop and I became a fighter.”