Page 41 of Filled

Eli knows too much.

The bar gets louder. More fighters trickle in. Two of the women’s team join us; Lisa, with her tattooed knuckles and her sharp laugh, and Reese, who could break me in half. Reese slides in next to Cruz and immediately starts giving him shit about his last sparring session. Cruz takes it the way he takes everything, grinning, agreeable, hand around his beer.

Theo appears at our booth like a vision, balancing a tray of shot glasses he definitely should have made a server carry.

“Brady, darling.” He kisses the top of my head as he sets the tray down. He smells like cologne and cigarettes and something sweet underneath. “You look devastating tonight. Are we okay?”

“We’re great, Theo,” I reply.

“You’re frowning,” he jests.

“I’m thinking.”

“Dangerous.” He winks at me. “Don’t do it for too long. Shots are on the house. Victor says, and I quote,if my fighters aren’t drunk by midnight I’m cutting all your fucking salaries.Charming, isn’t he?”

“He really is,” Cruz says, making Theo laugh.

We take the shots. Whatever it is burns down my throat like jet fuel and tastes like cinnamon. Jonah immediately wants another. Micah refuses politely. Cruz throws his back like water and slaps the empty glass down on the table.

“Right.” He stands. “I’m getting Coach away from Marco before Marco talks him into early retirement. Watch my beer.”

He weaves through the crowd toward Eli’s corner. I watch him go. He claps a massive hand on Eli’s shoulder and says something that makes Marco laugh and Eli’s mouth twitch in spite of itself. It’s a gift, what Cruz does. Pulling people out of themselves, even the man who tried to put him through acage yesterday. He hauls Eli up out of the booth like he weighs nothing, and Eli lets him, and they’re halfway back to us when the door opens one more time.

Dakota.

She’s wearing jeans and a black tank top, and her hair is down, falling past her shoulders. There’s still something wary in the way she scans the room before she steps in. I notice because I notice every fucking single thing about her.

Cruz sees her before Eli does. He doesn’t react, but his hand stays where it is on Eli’s back, steering. Eli sees her about half a second later and goes very, very still.

Dakota spots us. Her eyes skip across Cruz, across Eli, across Dante. They land on me last and stay there.

“There you are,” I say when she reaches the booth. “Thought you bailed.”

“Got lost.” She slides in across from me. Right next to Jonah, who shifts to make room with easy charm.

“Dakota, this is Jonah. Micah. Finn, Kai. Reese, Lisa. Everyone, Dakota.”

“The famous Dakota.” Jonah’s grin is wicked. “I’ve heard exactly nothing about you, which means these assholes are obsessed.”

“Christ, Carson.” Dante drags a hand down his face.

“What? I’m being friendly,” Jonah defends.

“You’re being you,” Dante replies.

“Same thing.”

Dakota laughs. It’s a real laugh, surprised out of her, and my chest tightens. I haven’t heard her laugh like that. Not once. Not in two weeks of training, not in any of the moments we’ve been close enough to count breaths.

Cruz arrives behind her with Eli in tow. Eli doesn’t sit. He stands at the end of the booth with his drink in his hand, lookingat Dakota like he’s trying to memorize her and pretend he isn’t doing it.

“Glad you came,” Eli says.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Coach,” she replies, her cheeks pink.

“Eli.”

“Eli.” She tries it out, looking up at him through her lashes. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous.”