Chapter 3

“I didn’t know there was fighting back here,” I mumbled.

His gaze slid briefly toward the cage again before returning to me. “Most people hear what’s happening back here and walk the other direction.”

“Most people?” I asked.

A faint huff left him, a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Yeah.”

Behind him, two men dragged the unconscious fighter out while someone sprayed down blood inside the cage like this happened often enough to have a routine.

That should’ve disturbed me more than it did. Instead, my attention drifted back to Cain. To the blood drying along his jaw. The tattoos that disappeared beneath his leather cut. To the silver barely threading through the dark hair brushing his shoulder, and my fingers itched to touch it.

Jesus Christ, Emery! Your best friend’s dad? Really? 

“You planning on staring all night?” he asked quietly.

My eyes snapped back to his as heat flared in my face. “I wasn’t staring,” I defended.

That almost-smile appeared again, knowing I was lying.

A woman brushed past him then, dragging long red nails across his shoulder. “You fighting again later, Cain?” she asked.

He never looked at her. “Yeah, probably.”

“Crowd’ll pay double tonight, if you do,” she cooed.

“I said maybe,” he stated, but something in his tone was enough the woman immediately backed off.

I watched her go. She was clearly interested in him, and standing here watching her make a play, sparked something ugly and irrational that had absolutely no business existing.

Cain noticed, his gaze settling on me again. “You still looking for a job?”

The question caught me off guard. “What?”

“You came looking for work,” he reminded.

“Oh.” I cleared my throat quickly. “Yeah.”

He studied me another second. “You worked something like this before?”

“A diner,” I answered truthfully.

He shook his head. “That’s not the same thing.”

“No,” I admitted. “Probably not.”

One corner of his mouth twitched again. “So why here?”

Because rent is due. Because my car can barely run. Because tuition doesn’t magically disappear because life gets expensive.

I tipped my chin defensively. “I need the money,”

Something unreadable moved through his expression. “You in school?”

I nodded. “Community college.”

“What for?” he asked.

“Nursing,” I answered.

That earned the first real reaction from him I’d seen, small, but real.

His gaze sharpened slightly as it moved over my face again. “Huh.”

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he murmured.

Definitely not nothing.

Before I could push it, shouting erupted near the betting tables. Two men were suddenly chest-to-chest while cash scattered across the floor.

One shoved the other hard enough a chair flipped backward. Nobody rushed to stop it, and the crowd simply moved around them.

Cain sighed softly beside me. “Think you can handle it?” His head nodded toward the fight that was quickly out of control.

Suddenly one of the men pulled a knife, and everything in the room changed instantly. The crowd moved back fast and somebody barked, “Cain.”

He moved before the word fully left the guy’s mouth. One second he stood beside me, the next he crossed the room with terrifying speed.

The knife-wielding man barely turned before Cain grabbed his wrist hard enough the guy cursed instantly. The knife clattered across concrete as Cain shoved him backward into the wall with brutal force.

“Enough,” he said quietly.

The entire room went silent, not fully, as music still played and glasses still clinked, but conversation stopped.

Everybody was watching Cain as the guy tried shoving back and Cain caught him by the throat, slamming him harder against the wall. “You wanna bleed in this club?” Cain asked calmly. “If not, take it outside.”

The man’s face reddened instantly beneath Cain’s grip.

“Cain,” another biker muttered nearby. “He’s drunk.”

“Then sober him up,” he growled, cold, flat, terrifying.

The guy nodded quickly, and Cain released his grip from the other man's throat immediately.

Two bikers grabbed him and dragged him toward the door leading into the bar area. Conversation slowly started again like nothing happened.

Cain glanced toward the knife still laying on the floor before looking back at me. “You sure about this?” he asked.

That question surprised me more than the violence did. I swallowed quickly. “Yeah.”

“Positive?” he pushed.

“I’ll be fine,” I managed.

His eyes held mine for a second longer before his gaze dropped toward my hands where my fingers trembled slightly.

One side of his mouth pulled faintly again. “First fight club, huh?”

I exhaled a soft laugh despite myself. “Is it that obvious?”

He smirked. “Little bit.”

A younger biker appeared beside Cain holding out a beer bottle. “Thought you might want this.”

Cain took it without looking away from me. “Thanks.”

The younger guy’s attention shifted between us once before he smirked slightly.

Cain noticed the look instantly and his expression hardened immediately as he turned toward the younger biker. “Problem?”

The guy straightened fast. “Nope.” Then he vanished back into the crowd.

Cain took a slow drink from the bottle before speaking again. “You always ignore survival instincts this easily?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I shot back.

His gaze sharpened slightly over the rim of the bottle. “You think this is the same?”

“No,” I admitted quietly. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Silence stretched between us. His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth again and my pulse stumbled hard enough it actually hurt.

Wrong. This was so unbelievably wrong. My best friend’s father. But I couldn’t stop noticing him. The rough scrape of his voice. The veins in thehand wrapped around the beer bottle. The dangerous calm in his eyes.

Instead I asked, “So do I get the job?”

That finally pulled a real reaction from him. A low exhale left him as he looked away briefly like he was reconsidering every decision that led to this moment, then his gaze settled back on me. “You have any idea what you’re getting into?”

I shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Smartest thing you’ve said tonight,” he stated.

I stepped closer before I could think better of it, barely half a step, but enough that I caught the faint scent of whiskey on his breath beneath the sweat and leather. Enough that his body went very still.

“You still didn’t answer me,” I said quietly.

His eyes locked onto mine. “You’re serious?” he asked.

 I nodded. “Yes.”

“About working here,” he clarified.

Again, I nodded. “Yes.”

Another long silence stretched, then, “You start tomorrow.”

My breath caught slightly. “Seriously?”

“One of our girls quit last week,” he returned.

“That’s your hiring process?” I asked.

One side of his mouth lifted faintly again. “Hasn’t failed me yet.”

I should have been excited, relieved. Instead, tension coiled tighter in my stomach