Pas de Deux: Part Two (A Cross and Pointe Novel Book 2) (16 page)

The guard lifted his hand immediately, and Cillian grabbed her around the waist, picking her up and swinging her over the barricade like she weighed nothing more than a child. Her feet had hardly touched the ground before he immediately swept her away down a long concrete corridor.

His angry silence was almost scarier than the raging crowd.

Safe now,
she chanted to herself.
Safe now. Calm down.
Her heart stuttered in her chest as unpleasant tingles of stress fluttered rapidly through her body. Sweat beaded her forehead, and her hands were clammy and cold.

Carl trailed behind them silently. Cillian glanced over his shoulder at him, his eyes narrowed to slits, before turning around and tightening his hold on Sammi.

She winced a little as his hand pressed down unknowingly on her developing bruise from the water bottle. He frowned at her, not missing her flinch.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

Cillian scowled, and Sammi swallowed. He turned her around a corner sharply and she almost tripped, but he pulled her along, holding onto her firmly until he came to a long hallway lined with doors. He stopped in front of one with a sheet of paper taped to it that bore his name and turned the handle, pushing the door open to a small dressing room.

Cillian pushed her gently inside and stepped in after her. Sammi glanced around; everyone in the room stared at her, their faces screwed up with worry. She offered a little smile to put them at ease.

“Fuck, no.”

The words spitting from Cillian's mouth made her head whip around to see his hand splayed on the door. He was pressing it shut against Carl, his brow creased with fury and his jaw tightly clenched. Carl shoved against the door, but Cillian refused to budge.

“C'mon, Cillian. It was an accident. You saw the crowd out there. Anyone could've gotten lost.”

“You had
one
fuckin' job.” Cillian's voice was blade-sharp. “
One
. You were supposed to look out for my family.”

“Bro. We lost her in the crowd, I thought she was with your dad and sister, I didn't—”

“You didn't give a fuck!” Cillian raged. “You left her to deal with those fucking assholes alone so you could go chase some ass for tonight. Do you know what could've happened?”

“Killy, look, I'm sorry.” Carl shrugged, his brows drawn together in annoyance. “Sammi—we're cool, right?”

Sammi turned away.

“She gets the best of the best, right?” Cillian said, his voice low and dangerous. “That's what you told me?”

“Killy—”

“You're fired.”

Carl's face changed, his brow lowering. His voice suddenly became as low as Cillian's. “Cillian. Think about what you're saying here.”

“I know what the fuck I said. You're fucking fired.”

Carl stared at him steadily. “You're making a mistake. A huge mistake.”

“Get the fuck outta here.” Cillian slammed the door in Carl's face and resumed pacing.

“Sammi, are you okay?” Melody asked. “We tried to come back for you but the guards kept moving us this way. We just got here and told Cillian you were left behind.”

“Carl wasn't even lookin' for you,” Cillian muttered. “When I got out to the entrance he was just coming back from the other way, talkin' to some chick.” He shook his head and glanced at Sammi. “You all right?”

“I-I'm okay.”

Sammi didn't want to say otherwise. The truth was, her nerves were rattled, her blood pressure was up, and her back ached with the onset of a bad bruise from having a solid object thrown right at her from close range.

None of that is going to calm him down and get him to focus. So...you're fine.
She forced a smile for him. He didn't return it.

“Killy, you sure that was smart?” Basanta asked quietly. “He's a shit manager, but he's also your boss. This could be a problem when we get home.”

“Fuck him. He's a disloyal snake, so
fuck
him. He's trying—” Cillian broke off, his eyes meeting Sammi's.

She shook her head.
Do not say it, not now, not in front of everyone...

Cillian took a huge breath through his nose and said nothing.

Basanta held up his hands. “All right, bro. Whatever you want. Let's just focus on what we came here to do.”

Murphy frowned at Sammi, his eyes, so much like Cillian's, full of concern. “You okay, sweetie?”

“Yep.” Sammi made her voice bright. “Just fine. All's well that ends well.” Cillian openly glowered at her, and she shifted uncomfortably.

Okay. Maybe the last part was too much.

“All right. See, Killy?” Murphy lightly patted her cheek, and then his son's shoulder. “She's fine. Why don't you guys go take your seats, get a drink or somethin', and Baz and I'll work on our prize fighter here—”

“I wanna talk to Sammi alone,” Cillian said evenly. “Can you guys wait outside, please?” It wasn't a request.

Once they were alone, Cillian shut the door and turned to Sammi. She felt like she was in trouble.

“What happened out there?” He folded his arms.

“Which part?”

“All of it. How'd you get separated from them?”

“I was following Carl, and then these reporters surrounded me and it took a second to get away from them. By the time I did, I'd lost everyone. Then the guards treated me like I was just some groupie, and then the girls were trying to start shit with me...” She trailed off and shook her head, taking a deep breath. “But it's okay. Right? You came and got me.”

“Anyone touch you?”

“Those girls pushed me around a little. I'm fine, though.”

“Pushed you around?”

“No big deal.” She shrugged. “I just wish I had the chance to push back.”

“Why'd you act like I hurt you earlier? When I had my hand on you. You flinched.”

Sammi played with the sleeve of her jacket. “Don't worry about it.”

“Don't worry about
what
?”

Sammi sighed. “It's—it's just a little sore back there.”

“Sore
why?
”

She didn't want to tell him, but it was clear he was quickly running out of patience. “Some girl standing behind me threw a frozen water bottle into my back.”

Immediately, his hand closed around the waistband of her jeans as he gently pulled her forward, turning her around. “Let me see.” He pushed her jacket to the side and untucked her tank top. “Jesus.”

She flinched when he lightly brushed his fingers over the bruise. Even the slight touch irritated the sore, tender skin, making her bite hard on her lip and wince.

Cillian maneuvered her over to the mirror on the wall and turned her so that her back was to it, pulling her jacket to the side again. Sammi looked over her shoulder at her reflection and gasped. The right side of her lower back was swollen and red, dark purple in some areas.

“Yeah.” Cillian's voice was tight as he carefully pulled her jacket back in place.

She cleared her throat, meeting his eyes in the mirror, and laughed weakly. “I bruise like a peach. This is not as bad as it looks.”

“Oh, really?”

Cillian brushed his fingers lightly over the area again, and Sammi yelped and jumped, instinctively trying to pull away from his touch. He moved his hand away and took her waist, tugging her closer as he shook his head. He touched his forehead to hers.

“I promised your dad you'd be okay. I promised you you'd be safe with me. We haven't even started the tournament yet, and already you've been hurt.”

Sammi brought her hands to his face. “Cillian, I'm fine. No big deal.” She smiled at him as he glanced up at her. “Most of those girls were out there to see you, I think. It really burned their butter when you came to get me.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “'Burned their butter'.” A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “What the hell's that mean?”

She laughed and leaned in to lightly kiss his lips. “Listen, I'm sending Murphy back in here. I'm gonna go grab a brew and a seat. Okay? I'm ready to have a great time and see some ass-kicking.”

Cillian chuckled, and Sammi felt pleased relief at the sound. At least he didn't look like he hated himself anymore. “A brew and some ass-kicking. All right, then.” He tightened his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. “Let me get a real kiss.”

Sammi wrapped her arms around his shoulders, bringing her lips to his. His mouth opened for her, and their tongues met, teasing and stroking. He sucked the tip of her tongue gently, then nuzzled her cheek.

“Can't stop thinkin' about bein' with you.” His lips grazed her cheek then slid to the pulse in her throat. “Think you unleashed the beast.”

Sammi closed her eyes as the sensation of his lips on her skin banished any lingering unpleasantness. “What a coincidence. I was going to say the same thing to you.”

“Oh?” His lips latched lightly to the other side of her neck, the tip of his tongue tracing the surface. Sammi held onto him tighter, her legs suddenly wobbly. “I unleashed your beast?”

“You have no idea, champ,” she murmured, tilting her head to claim his lips.

His hands slid over her hips to possessively grasp her bottom, pulling her close so she could feel the growing bulge at his front.

“Guess you'll have to show me exactly what you mean later on.” He smiled against her lips. “All that pent-up aggression I'll have.”

“Better stop.” It was hard to talk, and even harder to breathe. Her heart beat swiftly in her chest. “Otherwise you're not gonna be able to focus.”

His hands squeezed her bottom. “Who says I can now?”

Sammi bit her lip. “Seriously. Otherwise I'm not gonna leave.”

“Don't want you to.”

There was a knock on the door. “Killy,” Baz called. “C'mon, bro. Hate to break up the love fest, but we got work to do.”

“Shove it up your ass, Baz,” Cillian muttered into her skin.

Sammi chuckled. “Listen to him. You have work to do, he said.”

Cillian sighed and let her go, cupping her face tenderly. “I'm gonna see you later.”

She stared up at him breathlessly. “I'll be waiting.”

He leaned in and kissed her again. “Stay with my family. Be careful out there.”

“I will. I l—” She bit her lip hard, her heart kicking into overdrive. Blood roared in her ears.

What the hell were you about to say?

Cillian stared down at her, his eyes bright and intense. “What?”

“I said...I will. Good, um, good luck.”
Christ, Samantha.
Her head spun.

He nodded slowly, his eyes fastened to hers. “Thanks, beautiful.” He tipped her head forward gently so he could kiss her forehead. “Better get outta here. I'll talk to you later.”

Sammi sent Murphy and Baz back in, and followed Melody, Matthews, and Jess through the maze of concrete hallways to the arena. They stopped to buy beers on the way, before heading to their cage-side seats.

They had just seated themselves when a man ambled past them, wearing a press pass on a lanyard around his neck and holding a smartphone and a notepad. Sammi recognized him from the day before.

Marty Brown. Wonder if he knows his little buddy got fired...

His eyes cut over to Sammi. “Hey, there. We met yesterday, didn't we?”

Sammi nodded. “Yeah. Marty, Mr. Wilhelm's friend.”

“That's right.” Marty's eyes scanned her up and down. “Sammi, right? Cillian Ronan's friend? He blew me off yesterday.”

She frowned. “That doesn't sound like him.”

“No? I was scheduled to interview him, give him a nice write-up on my blog. He was supposed to show at four-thirty, and...nothing.”

“I'm sure it was a mistake. He's not irresponsible.”

Marty smiled thinly. “Perhaps. It seems he's set to do pretty well this weekend.”

“He's ready.” Sammi busied herself with a sip of her beer.

“Hope he'll be ready enough without Carl.” Marty's words turned sharp and Sammi looked up at him. “Heard you got yourself into some trouble this afternoon, and Cillian fired him on the spot after a temper tantrum.”

How can he already know about that?
Sammi frowned. “That's not exactly how it happened.”

“No? I'd love to hear your side a little later. I've gotta get going.” He winked at Sammi. “Can't wait to hear what you have to say—I've found your life story to be terribly interesting so far.” He smiled and ambled off.

Sammi's stomach lurched.
My life story? What the fuck does that mean?

“Sammi, you okay?” Melody glanced over at her. She'd been on her cell phone during their conversation. She frowned and nodded after Marty. “Who was that guy? What'd he want?”

“A reporter.” Sammi tried to relax, swallowing hard against the sick feeling in her chest and gut. “Trying to get the scoop on Cillian, that's all. I wouldn't give him anything.”

“Good.” Melody patted her arm.

As the lights started to flicker and the music started to blast, Sammi tried to focus on the upcoming fights.

He was just talking shit. He doesn't know anything. He can't know anything.

But for some reason, her stomach still couldn't unknot itself.

“Havin' fun?”

Basanta loomed in front of Sammi, drawing her attention from the cage. The fifth fight had just ended. He had to shout over the deafening crowd.