REBEL: #4.5 The Beat and The Pulse (8 page)

I smiled. Until I got what I came for, she’d put up with it.

“And when I win the Championship?”

She shoved me hard, her tiny hands hardly making a dent. “Then you better get out, Kane Sturgess, because I want to start a new life with you. An
honest
life.”

A grin split my face nearly in two. “Fuck, yeah.”

I
’d made a mistake
, and I’d almost lost my life because of it.

I was lucky Rebel and Max had shown up when they did because even though I got the gun from Simon, there were no guarantees I would’ve been able to escape. What got me was the fact that even though I’d blatantly gone against my gut and put Rebel in danger by association, he didn’t seem to give a toss.

And two weeks later, he still wasn’t done with me.

The only people at The Underground who knew my real identity were Rebel and Max, and Max had made it clear that if I was found meddling again, there would be consequences. As long as I played the game, the game I should’ve been playing from the moment I fell for Rebel, they’d leave me alone.

Once Rebel was out, then so was I. I knew when I was in over my head, and that’s what made a good cop—knowing when to bow out.

He’d texted me that morning asking me to meet up with him for a little bit of training. Knowing him, I was prepared to be put through my paces big time. Standing outside of Pulse Fitness, the newest fighter gym in town, I took a deep breath.

He’d said it was run by a past Underground Champ, and he’d had starry eyes, so what could I say? Definitely not no, so I changed into my gym clothes and headed down to Abbotsford, in the daylight for once, and wondered how many ways he’d try to torture me. I’d done my fair share of training, including things like self-defense and cardio, but nothing like he did. MMA, boxing, heavy weight training…that stuff was beyond me.

Stepping inside, I took in the cavernous space filled with all kinds of gym equipment and breathed in the scent of leather and paint. How new was this place exactly?

“Charlie!”

I smiled as I heard my name on Rebel’s lips and found him at the far end of the gym waving me over.

“Hey,” I said as I came to a stop in front of him. He was half-naked as usual, wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts and a wife-beater that hardly covered his pecs. “Nice place.”

“I know, right?”

Dumping my bag against the wall and kicking off my runners, I asked. “So what are we doing?”

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” he asked with a grin.

“Me?” I retorted, pretending to be offended. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, buddy.”

“Game on.”

Squaring my shoulders, I stepped up to the plate. “Watch your back, Sturgess.”

With a smile, he cupped my face in his big hands and planted a kiss on my lips.

We now had the space to get to know one another without boundaries or unknowns between us and it was a heady thought. I’d never had it with another man and certainly not as fast. We’d fallen for each other and clicked instantly. Comfortable was something that now came easy.

“You got time to hang for a while after this?” Rebel asked.

I tilted my head to the side. “Hang?”

He laughed, looking more handsome every day. “By hang I mean go at it back at mine.”

I burst out into laughter, shaking my head.
Men
. “Shit, yes.”

Yeah, we had time.

A
mity Cross
isn't
her real name. That's no secret.

She is the author of wicked stories about rock stars looking for redemption, gritty romances featuring MMA fighters and dark tales of forbidden romance. She loves to write about screwed up relationships and kick ass female leads that don't take s**t lying down.

Amity lives in a leafy country town in southern Australia and can be found chained to her desk, held at ransom by her characters.

Don't send help. She likes it.

• @amitycross
  
• theamitycross
  

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