Page 62 of Fighting for Irish
Pulling him toward her, she spoke quietly enough so only Irish could hear. “But I want to hear what they have to say.”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble with Lou and I need you to ask Johnny to cover for me for a few minutes.” She opened up her mouth to argue, but he didn’t let her get that far. “Please, sweetheart, go inside. I’ll give you the highlights later, okay?”
Kat released a dejected sigh. “Yeah, okay.” Not only did she want to hear what the agents had to say, but she also thought it would be better if she stuck around to make sure Irish didn’t sell himself short to potential investors in his career. She didn’t think he’d totally bought in to the idea of getting back in the cage professionally, and she wouldn’t put it past him to subconsciously sabotage any second chances tossed his way.
“You know,” she said to them, “he’s been training really hard since entering the tournament and he’s only going to get better. I know Victor wouldn’t regret investing in him. Anyone who watches him fight can see he’s a born champion.”
Sully slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels. “Oh, I know. I saw him last Saturday. He fought like his life depended on it.”
Vinnie the Silent cracked a smile and eyed Irish. “Or like someone’s did, anyway.”
Taking her hand, Irish led her to the back door to the bar and opened it for her. “Thanks for the endorsement.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”
He looked down at her, the corners of his mouth tipping up just a bit. “I know.”
Kat placed a hand on his chest for balance and raised on her tiptoes. Pressing her lips to his, she hoped the kiss would infuse him with some of the confidence she had in his abilities. She pulled back, whispered a quick “good luck,” then walked into the back area of the bar.
The haze of cigarette smoke hung like a veil in the hall, stirring above her as she passed through it. She heard Lou talking to the bartenders in the main room so she slipped into his office. After hanging her purse in a locker, she unzipped Irish’s pack to get out the comm-link he used to speak with the other coolers. Just as she was hanging his pack on the hook, his cell phone started to ring.
Did he usually carry his phone with him while he worked? Kat chewed on the corner of her lip and waffled on whether to get it or not. The call went to voice mail, so she decided to take it to him so he could see if it was anyone he needed to speak with. As she pulled it out, she glanced at the lit screen. It read “Missed call from V. Maris.”
“Maris?” Why did that name sound so familiar to her? She ran it through her head over and over, waiting for something to click. “V. Maris. Victor Maris?” Oh, shit, it’s the manager! Now she knew he needed his phone. Victor probably wanted to hear what Irish thought about whatever his guys were telling him.
She palmed the cell, shut the locker, and turned to leave the office-slash-break-room when the phone rang again with the same Caller ID. Damn, she thought, it must be important for him to call again so soon. She’d answer it, explain that Irish was still outside speaking with Sully, and that she’d make sure he called as soon as they were done.
“Hello, Irish O’Brien’s phone.”
Silence.
“Hello?” she tried again. “Mr. Maris?”
“Kitty-Kat? Is that you?”
Kat forgot to breathe and had to steady herself with a hand on the wall. She didn’t understand. Couldn’t make the pieces fit to make sense. Why would her sister be on the other end of the line? Why would her sister have Irish’s cell phone number?
“Kat, if that’s you, please talk to me.”
The woman’s voice was tinny through the miniscule speaker, but it was most definitely Nessie. Kat had listened to that voice in hundreds of voice messages and a handful of calls over the years.
Unable to do anything else, she ended the call and stared at the phone. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there—a minute, an hour—but as soon as the shock wore off, Kat stalked back down the hall toward the back door.
Betrayal slithered through her mind, making her skin crawl, as she realized that somehow she’d been deceived by the only man she’d ever trusted. Throwing the door open, she stepped into the oppressive heat of the night. Irish rounded the corner and came toward her.
“Kat, what are you—”
She held up his phone. “Why in the hell is my sister calling your phone? Fuck that. How is she calling your phone?”
His face fell. “Let me explain.”
“That’s a great fucking idea,” she said, her words sharp as knives. “Why don’t you start with how you know her and why she’s in your phone as V. Maris.”
“I don’t know her.” The lie had her drawing her arm back to throw his phone at him, but he held his hands up. “I mean, not really! I’m friends with her fiancé, Jackson Maris.”
She lowered her throwing arm and let that sink in. That’s why that name had sounded familiar to her. It was soon to be her sister’s last name. “You know Jackson?”
“Yeah. Years ago he came out to my training camp in Boston for about six months and we hit it off. He helped me out one time, so I felt like I owed him a favor.”
