Page 67 of Fighting for Irish
“Why are you here, Kat?” he ground out.
“Because I’m tired of others deciding my future for me. So now I’m going to fight for what I want. And what I want”—she placed her gentle hands on either side of his face and held his gaze—“is you, Aiden Murphy O’Brien. All of you.”
Ah, hell, he knew he never should have given her his middle name. He blew out a breath and lowered his forehead to hers, keeping his eyes closed for fear of her seeing the coward he truly was if she looked too closely. “Kat, you don’t know what—”
Fingers pressed against his lips cut him off. “Don’t you dare patronize me and say I don’t know what I want. That’s bullshit and you know it.”
He couldn’t help the crooked grin from cracking his stoic mask. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a force to be reckoned with, Katherine Terese MacGregor?”
She rewarded him with a brilliant smile and hooked her hands around his neck. His arms instinctively wrapped around her trim waist and he pulled her against him. “Not even once,” she said, “but I like the way it sounds.”
Aiden chuckled, losing himself to the drug of her happiness. A hard knock on the door yanked him back to the present as a pit bull of a man entered the room. He looked like he’d been in the cage more than his fair share back in his prime and had an attitude to match.
“O’Brien, you know who I am?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. McManus, I do.”
“Good,” Victor said with a satisfied grin. “I’ll be watching your fight. If you manage a repeat of last week, I’d like to talk about your long-term options. I’ll be in touch.”
Aiden barely had time to get out a polite “thank you” before the manager punctuated the almost-conversation with a terse nod and left as quickly as he came.
Kat turned to him, excitement shining on her face. “Oh my God, that was so awesome! I can’t wait to see what he has to say after you win again tonight.”
Nothing like reality giving him a swift kick in the nuts to remind him of why he didn’t want her at the fight. Not only did his ego balk at her witnessing such a shitty fight, but he had no idea if the Sicoli boys would want their cannoli and eat it, too, and he didn’t want to serve her up on a silver platter.
“Kat, listen to me,” he said, bringing her hands down in front of him. “I want you to go home, and after I’m done fighting I’ll come over and we can talk then, okay?”
“Absolutely not. I’m here to support you and cheer you on. End of discussion.”
Xan’s voice bellowed through the door. “Two minutes or you forfeit, mate. Let’s go!”
Damn it, he had no time to argue, and to say she was in rare form would be an understatement. Fuck! “Okay fine, but you stay close to Xander, you hear me? I don’t trust anyone in this joint. Promise me you’ll stay with him. No matter what, Kat.”
Crossing her heart with a finger, she said, “I promise I’ll stay with Xander.”
He wasn’t nearly satisfied with that, but it would have to do for now. He had a fight to lose if he wanted Kat off the hook and safe to move on with her life. Whether it would be with him or without remained to be seen.
“Then let’s go,” he said, opening the door for her.
Before stepping into the hall, she stopped in front of him with the sort of confidence that only came from one thing: love.
“You’re going to win. I can feel it.”
Bending down, he kissed her lips and savored the tingling sensations curling through his body he thought he’d never experience again. “I hate the thought of disappointing you, kitten.”
“It’s not possible,” she said, offering a reassuring smile.
Though he knew it wasn’t true, Aiden held onto the thought for as long as he could. Apparently no one had taught her not to count her chickens before they hatch. Placing a hand on her lower back, he guided her toward the arena floor and tried not to think about how disappointed in him she was about to be.
…
Kat peeked through the fingers she’d been holding over her eyes for the last… She glanced at the huge digital timer on the wall. It felt like they’d been at it for an hour already. Holy shit, only a minute had gone by in the second round? An agonizing minute of watching Irish barely survive inside the black octagonal cage in the center of a howling, bloodthirsty crowd.
She didn’t understand it. She wasn’t a total imbecile when it came to the sport. She’d caught it on TV a handful of times before she’d even met Irish and watched him train and asked him and Xander a million questions. So why did it seem like something wasn’t right? Not only did Irish look like his heart wasn’t in the fight, but Xander wasn’t even coaching him. The other guy had a couple different people shouting tips and encouragement.
As Aiden was slammed up against the cage yet again, Kat turned to yell into Xander’s ear so he could hear her above the din. “Something’s wrong with him, Xan!”
The bell signaling the end of round two interrupted any answer she may have gotten. Xander picked up a stool and a bucket holding a water bottle, ice bags, and a few other items and raced into the cage. Irish plopped down on the stool, but it didn’t appear as though it was from exhaustion or weakness. He looked…defeated.
