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  “Not interested,” Diego told him immediately. His gaze shifted from Spider, to Weston, and back again, wondering what the two were playing at. Had McCready okayed this?

  Spider scowled. “You haven’t even heard the offer.”

  “If it involves working with you two, I repeat: Not. Interested.”

  Spider narrowed his eyes. “Look, I don’t know what your damage is, but I know you need cash. And by the rate you’re fighting, you need it fast. All I’m offering is a chance to earn that extra cash, fast.”

  Diego swallowed. He did need the money. And the faster he earned it, the quicker he could escape this life and move on.

  He’d never meant to get involved in these fights in the first place. But he’d done something in his old life—something that meant he needed to stay hidden. He’d left that place in a split-second decision with only the shirt on his back and no skills other than fighting from which he could make his money. There were only so many ways a guy in that situation could earn decent cash without putting himself on any radars. Radars led to him being dragged back to the life he’d left.

  “Illegal work, I presume?” he asked, feeling the pull of temptation from easy money.

  Spider shrugged. “Maybe. Point is, it’s money.”

  “I don’t do that kind of work.” Not anymore.

  Spider’s eyes turned crafty. “Is that so?” Diego knew he wouldn’t like whatever came next. Spider’s eyes dropped, landing on the tattoo Diego had never bothered to hide. Big mistake.

  “I recognise that,” Spider told him. “How long were you behind bars?

  Diego swallowed. “Too long. Long enough to know I’d be stupid to risk going back. Even for easy money.”

  Spider gave him a slow nod at the words. “I can respect that. But I can pretty much assure you it wouldn’t come to that.”

  “’Pretty much’ isn’t enough. Besides, why me? You’ve got access to all the fighters as McCready’s lapdog. Why single out me?

  Spider shrugged. “You’re perfect for what we need.” His eyes drifted back to the tattoo. “And you’ve got the skills and experience I require.”

  How did Spider know this? It was one thing to recognise the tattoo, but another entirely to know what he was in for. Was Spider fishing, or did he know Diego’s true identity? Shit, if he did, Diego was fucked, plan or no plan. He didn’t have quite enough money yet to leave this life, this country, and start again anew. He needed more time.

  “I can’t do it, man,” Diego said regretfully. He’d once earned his living doing stupid shit like whatever Spider was proposing, but he couldn’t do it. He’d risked too much to leave that life behind.

  Spider didn’t seem too put out by his declaration. “If you change your mind, you know how to find me. All I need is some muscle.”

  He turned and left the gym, Weston following in his wake. Diego blew out a breath of relief, feeling like he’d somehow dodged a massive bullet.

  His eyes shifted to take in Chen and Alexei.

  “Good call, man,” said Chen, then turned back to his own workout. Alexei nodded in agreement, but didn’t add anything. Diego smiled, but something inside him hardened.

  This life was getting too dangerous. He was getting too sucked in, too involved. If he wasn’t careful, he’d never get out.

  And that, he couldn’t allow.

  Chapter 4

  Three guys stood by a car in the far corner of the parking lot. It was a few hours after sunset, and the only light illuminating the space was the orange glow from a distant streetlight. No moonlight penetrated the cloud cover tonight.

  The fight wouldn’t start for another hour or so, giving Rosalyn plenty of time to get some interviews. These guys were clearly fighters—they all wore variations on boxing shorts and loose t-shirts, and one of them was strapping his hands.

  They all laughed at some joke the broad-chested one told them. None of these fighters were The Sexy One from last time, but that was probably for the best. She shouldn’t be lusting after her subjects, anyway. It would distract her from her work.

  But what had he said? Ask too many questions around here and you might get disappeared or killed. Surely that was an exaggeration? That kind of thing didn’t happen in real life. Right?

  Rosalyn steeled herself to go over, squaring her shoulders. She couldn’t have doubts now, when she was so close. So close to realising her dream and proving to herself that she could do this. So close to definitively escaping the life she’d been forced into.

  She adjusted her clothing as she walked towards the men, showing an extra inch of cleavage and thigh. It never hurt to use her sex appeal sometimes, particularly not with red-blooded men that would be more likely to help her if they also wanted to bang her.

  She managed not to roll her eyes at the thought.

  Not that it had worked on The Sexy One.

  “Hey there, guys,” she said as she approached, giving them her best flirty smile.

  The tall guy’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her. The broad guy spun around to get a better look at her.

  “Well, hello,” the broad one said with a smile that made Rosalyn feel even more naked than she was. She tried not to let her distaste show. “I’m Spider. How can I assist you this fine evening?”

  She almost snorted at his attempts at being gentlemanly, but managed to keep a straight face. “Well, Spider. I’m so curious about how this all works. I thought you might want to answer some questions to help me out.”

  Spider’s demeanour changed instantly. He straightened. “What kind of questions?” Even the faux-gentlemanly accent had disappeared.

  A chill ran down Rosalyn’s spine. Her instincts were prodding her, telling her it would be smart to extract herself from this situation, but maybe she still had a chance to turn it around.

  “I’m so curious about you. What made you want to be a fighter?”

  A fraught moment of tension, then Spider subsided a little. He still watched her warily, though. Rosalyn knew to tread carefully.

  “I’m good at it. The best,” he added.

  The tall guy whacked him on the shoulder with an offended look. “Hey, that’s not fair. I’m pretty good, too.”

  Spider scoffed. “Sure, Weston. Whatever you say.”

  Weston pouted. Rosalyn’s gaze shifted to the third guy, who was skinny and squirrely, but he said nothing, hovering in the background. Okay, so she wouldn’t focus on him. Maybe if she played on the clear competitive nature of the other two, she’d get some decent information. Since Spider’s reaction to her wanting to ask questions hadn’t been encouraging, she’d keep the fact that she was a reporter on the down-low for now.

  “Do you train lots? You guys have so much muscle.” She almost winced, convinced she was overplaying it, but the guys both puffed out their chest in pride.

  “Every day,” Spider told her.

  “Almost,” Weston added with a scowl.

  “And do you ever get hurt? What happens when you do?”

  “Doc patches us up pretty good,” Spider told her, as if this explained everything. She nodded as if it meant something to her, too.

  “Doesn’t happen very often, though,” Weston added, and Spider nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

  It was going well, the two men having relaxed against the car. Some of the suspicion had left their expressions, so Rosalyn thought—hoped—it would be a good time to test the waters a little with a more revealing question. “So how did you find out about this place? How does one get ‘in’ so to speak?”

  Spider’s gaze immediately shifted back into suspicion, coming off the car with a jerky movement. Weston gave him a surprised glance, then followed as Spider took a few steps towards her. Rosalyn held her ground, her heart beating rapidly in fear. She’d done it now.

  “I don’t think I like where you’re going with these questions.” He stopped a few steps away from her, far too close for comfort. His brows were pulled down in anger. Still only simmerin
g anger, but frightening nonetheless.

  Her gaze bounced to his bulging muscles and back, fear tightening her throat. This guy could kill her, as the other fighter had warned her last time. Why hadn’t she listened?

  “I’m just curious,” she told him, her voice an octave higher than usual. She swallowed, trying to wrest back control. Don’t show fear.

  “A little too curious,” Spider replied, shifting on his feet and seeming to grow taller.

  Rosalyn clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her palm to snap herself out of her fear. She could talk her way out of this. She had to.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would be an issue. I only wanted to know a bit more about you.”

  “About me?” he asked, taking another step forward. He was much too far into her personal space now, looming large. “Or about these fights?”

  “A little of both?” she tried.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw and his nostrils flared. Rosalyn knew instantly it was the wrong thing to say.

  “Are you a cop?” he spat.

  Rosalyn shook her head. “No, definitely not.”

  “What, then? Why do you want to know so much about us? If you were an invited guest, you’d probably know all this stuff already.”

  Oh dear. She’d exposed that she didn’t belong. Not a smart manoeuvre. Her chances of getting out of this were getting slimmer by the second.

  “How about we forget I asked, huh?” she said, her voice shaking.

  Spider tilted his head, then stepped forward again. This time, Rosalyn didn’t stop herself from stepping away, wincing as his sour breath hit her nostrils.

  “McCready would want us to deal with you. Can’t have people nosing about our business.”

  Rosalyn swallowed. “Really, there’s no need. I’ll just—”

  “But I think I might need to frisk you first,” Spider said, his gaping smile telling her he’d enjoy the act. Rosalyn’s heart thumped against her ribcage, adrenaline rushing through her. Every atom in her body was screaming at her to run. But her feet were frozen in fear.

  Spider grabbed her upper arms so hard she could already feel the bruises forming. She sucked in a breath of surprise at the movement. It took her a minute to process what was happening—that this man was actually laying a hand on her—but as soon as her mind cleared, she gathered her courage.

  “Let go,” she hissed.

  “Not until I check you for a wire.”

  She squirmed, but his grip was rock solid.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said.

  “Why not, cop?” he spat.

  “I’m not a cop, I just don’t like strange men touching me.” She wrenched her body, trying to escape his hold but it was no use. He was far too strong, with muscles upon muscles.

  “And here you were moments ago fawning all over us. Pretty suspicious, no?”

  Rosalyn cursed herself. She never should have flirted like that if she couldn’t follow through. Too late for regrets.

  Her gaze bounced from Spider, to Weston, but both looked to be enjoying themselves far too much. She glanced over at the third man by the truck, but he’d disappeared, not even offering to help her.

  “Weston, hold her still,” Spider told his friend. Weston took a step forward. Before he could reach Rosalyn, Spider let go, clearly not concerned that she’d escape.

  Rosalyn took the chance, turning and sprinting back the way she’d come. But two steps later, she slammed into a hard male chest, blocking her path.

  Diego didn’t know why he stepped in. He should have let it go and ignored it. Rosalyn had got herself into this mess by ignoring his advice. He’d tried to warn her, he’d done his duty.

  But then he’d seen her struggling, at the mercy of Spider. And Diego knew exactly what Spider was capable of. The long dormant part of him—the chivalry and decency that had been beaten out of him years ago—roared back to life, and Diego knew he couldn’t let this woman be assaulted.

  It was the second time this had happened in the last year, and the first time had resulted in him killing a man, faking his own death, and escaping into this fighter’s life that was little better than the one he’d left.

  He hoped—not very optimistically—that this saviour’s act wouldn’t have the same life-destroying effect.

  “Leave her alone,” he told Spider, keeping his voice level. He wrapped one arm around Rosalyn’s shoulders and pulled her close to his chest. His bare chest. He could feel her shaking palm press against his skin and protective urge swelled up inside him.

  She didn’t pull away, either. Her soft body pressed against his hard chest. Diego glanced down, only to see her looking up at him in shiny-eyed gratitude. He got lost in her eyes for a moment, caught in the seductive lure of being seen as a hero. But it was a false heroism. She didn’t know the truth about him, who he really was and what he’d done.

  Still, he didn’t let go, just tightened his grip and returned his gaze to Spider.

  Spider smirked. “What, you want her all to yourself?”

  Diego grinned. “She’s already mine. So leave her alone.” Not the truth, not even close. But Spider didn’t know that. And men like Spider only respected a superior claim on a woman, cretin that he was. Diego may not be a good guy, but he knew what ‘no’ meant.

  “You’re taking responsibility for the nosy bitch?” he asked incredulously. “Did you hear the questions she was asking?”

  “Nothing too suspicious, I’m sure.” If they were anything like the questions she’d asked him, that was. He didn’t trust her, not for a minute. She was too nosy, too curious, too obviously didn’t belong. But that didn’t mean she deserved whatever Spider wanted to do to her.

  Spider frowned, his eye going blank as he clearly thought back on the conversation. He opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut again.

  “Boss,” Weston said. “Let’s fuck them both up, to be sure.”

  Spider’s eyes lit. “Not now. McCready would kill us.”

  “But—”

  “Let it go,” Spider ordered. He turned to Diego. “I hear her asking one more question—one—and she’s gone. You understand me?”

  Diego nodded. He understood all too well.

  Spider stalked off. Diego followed him with his gaze until both he and Weston made it inside the warehouse. That had been too easy. He couldn’t trust it was over.

  “Thank you,” Rosalyn whispered into his chest.

  Diego reluctantly disentangled himself from her and held her away from him. The soulless part of him wanted to pull her closer, keep her warm and soft against him. Run his fingers through her hair and—

  He cut off that line of thinking.

  “You need to leave,” he told her.

  She blinked, the admiration fading from her gaze. “Now?”

  “Well, the best time would have been last week when I told you to the first time. I didn’t want to say ‘I told you so’, but here we are. Second best time is now.”

  “I’m not leaving,” she declared.

  Diego blinked in surprise. “What the hell? Yes, you are. Do you know how close you came to being assaulted, even killed?” She swayed a little, and he tightened his fingers around her, keeping her upright.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, voice urgent.

  She shook her head, maybe trying to clear it, maybe telling him she wasn’t. He wouldn’t take the chance. With one movement, he swept her up into his arms, next to his heart. Then, he carried her towards the warehouse, where Doc would be waiting to treat the fighters.

  She didn’t struggle.

  “You’ll be all right,” he murmured. “I promise.”

  It felt suspiciously like a vow.

  Chapter 5

  “She’ll be okay, it’s shock,” Doc told him. “The adrenaline will fade in a minute.”

  Diego breathed a sigh of relief. His heart slowed to a more normal rate. “Thanks for checking her over.” He watched her through the office window as she took deep
breaths, shaking her arms to get the nervous tension out. She did seem better, but it never hurt to have an expert opinion. Or as close as he could get to one in this world.

  Doc shrugged. “No problem. I’m not surprised Spider would terrorise a woman like that. I am surprised he let you step in, though.”

  Diego shrugged. “Maybe it’s not over.”

  Doc blinked. “Who are you fighting today?” he asked after a moment.

  “Weston, apparently. Just got word.”

  A worried frown creased Doc’s brow. “Be careful out there. Some things I can’t treat.” He stared through the window, too, at what now passed for a surgery. A wistfulness crossed his face. “Especially not now.”

  “I will,” he promised Doc, but he had no idea how he’d keep that promise. If Spider and Weston cooked something up, particularly with McCready’s support, Diego was toast.

  A movement behind Diego made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He spun around but it was only Alexei.

  “Fight in ten,” the Russian said in his thick accent.

  Diego nodded. “Thanks.”

  Alexei acknowledged the thanks, then left the way he came.

  Diego stepped inside the office. Rosalyn looked up as he entered, a slight smile on her face.

  “Sorry for getting woozy out there.” Her gaze drifted over his bare chest, heating his blood. “Not that I didn’t appreciate the white knight routine.”

  Diego ignored the way she affected him, reminding himself of the trouble she’d already caused him. He couldn’t allow himself to become distracted.

  “Now we know you’re okay, you definitely need to leave.”

  She blinked. “So soon?” Her gaze drifted to the door behind him. He glanced there, too, but Doc had already disappeared.

  “We can’t risk what happened before happening again. It’s not worth it.”

  Rosalyn shook her head. “But—”

  Diego shook his head. “I don’t have time to argue with you. I need to get ready for my fight.” He needed time to prepare, to get his head back in the game. If he was facing Weston, he had to be focused like a laser. God knows what the man might try.