SCOUT

"Hey guys!” Kira skipped her way over to us, linking arms with Alex.

We were heading out for food, our usual thing to do before Alex went to football and I went to training. Normally I didn’t mind when Kira and her group tagged along. But that was only because they left me alone. She’d been after the triplets more this year, finally letting go of her target on me. Which I was down for.

Kira liked boyfriends. If she didn’t have one, she was freaking, and when she did have one, she was already looking for the next one. Just how she was.

“We’re heading for food. You want to come?”

Kira’s gaze jumped to me. We were going to Carby’s, a popular fast food franchise in town, and going there was never my choice. I hated the place, but everyone else fucking loved it. I lied, “We’re going to Cohen’s for tacos.” Her eyes went flat.

Not because of the tacos or because she thought we were going to Cohen’s but because Kira and her friends did not get along with Cohen’s mom. Maybe it was because Cohen was friendly with Theresa Garcia. Theresa and Kira did not mix, and if we were at Cohen’s, damned sure Theresa would show up with her friends, who really didn’t like Kira. It was almost like a turf war.

But again, I was lying and wasn’t surprised when Kira let loose of Alex’s arm and gave a smile before waving.

“I think I’m going to catch up to the girls, see if they want to hang.” She caught Alex’s hand just before we were out of arm’s length and pressed up against him, smiling. “Call me later, okay?”

Alex nodded, and then she was off, making sure we were watching as she went. And Cohen and Alex were, so she walked slower, swinging her ass a little more than normal.

“Damn. I want to hit that. Badly.” Cohen whistled under his breath, shaking his head. Alex laughed before frowning my way. “We’re going to Carby’s.”

We were at my truck and I swung in, tossing my bag in the back. The guys followed suit. Alex took the front. Cohen liked the back when someone else was riding with us, and as I reversed, I shrugged. “Can’t talk if she’s there.” That got Cohen’s attention. His head lifted, and he leaned forward. “You talking about this afternoon?”

I was eyeing Alex, who was watching the other students leaving as we drove past them.

I answered, “Your cousin.” Alex looked my way, settling back in his seat. He got more grim, more guarded. “What about her?”

“She knew what we did. Girls have big mouths.”

“Not Ramsay.”

“She’s your family.”

He wasn’t liking where I was taking this. “I already told you. Ramsay won’t say shit. I get what you think of chicks, but she’s not like that. She’s one of us.” I met Cohen’s gaze in the rearview mirror. He was slowly sitting back again, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. No chick was a part of us. And they all talked. It was a matter of time. But I dropped it, and we went to Carby’s. Since I had a fight coming, I had chicken and broccoli.

RAMSAY

My cousins lied to me. Fully and outright lied to me.

Clint called me, said they’d pick me up for food, and nope. We were outside a warehouse in the neighboring town, standing in the middle of a crowd of people. These people weren’t normal we’re-going-to-a-concert or we’re-going-to-watch-a-movie type of people. These were heavily muscled, heavily tattooed, heavily scary type of guys and girls who were barely wearing any clothes. Bikini tops with underwear was not that uncommon among some of the women. Some at least had tank tops and miniskirts on, but that didn’t help with how seriously underdressed I was. Throwing on a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers sounded appropriate to wear to grab some food with my cousins. Because that was what I was wearing, and by the time we hit the front doors, I knew where we were going.

I smacked Clint on the arm. “You lied!” He laughed, putting an arm around my shoulders and jerking me to his side. “Come on. I didn’t really.” Alex laughed, angling his head to see me. “Yeah. He said food and we’re planning on getting food inside for you.”

Trenton had to put his two cents in, bumping his arm into mine. “Clint just didn’t say where we were getting food. No lie.”

“Assholes. All of you.” We were at Scout’s fight, and I didn’t know if I was ready to watch him get all hot and sweaty and dirty and rough—good Lord, the sweatshirt needed to go. Plus, this place was heated with the amount of bodies inside along with heaters set up in the corner.

“My man. My men. Hello!” Cohen approached us, giving Alex a fist bump before pulling him into one of those half-hugs guys do. He did this with my other two cousins before stepping back and giving me a reserved nod.

“Female Maroney. How’s it going?”

Clint laughed. “Ramsay. Do us a favor and call her Ramsay or she’ll skin our dicks off.” Cohen’s eyebrows shot up, but he gave a tight nod, also reassessing me. “Noted.” They talked more, and we headed to the concessions first. Clint made a big deal out of buying me my food and saying, “Promise fulfilled.” Alex and Trenton were laughing. Cohen looked confused. No one explained to him that the joke was on me. Once the guys grabbed their food, we headed off. Cohen led the way to a section elevated above the others. We climbed up. It was weird, I thought as I looked around.

Girls were walking around, wearing Scout’s name on their shirts. Some had his name spelled out on their faces or cleavage. A lot of guys were drinking, all talking, laughing loud, and pointing to the ring, which was smack dab in the middle of the entire warehouse. The place just kept getting fuller and fuller, which made me thankful to be standing where we were. A few people tried climbing up, but Trenton and Clint weren’t letting them. A few shared words with them, but knowing Clint liked to get into trouble and Trenton had a little bit of a crazy switch in his head, I figured neither boy cared. They were welcoming it. There was one situation that I thought would come to blows, until another guy pushed in, tapped one of the men on the shoulders, and said something to them. Whatever he said worked wonders because the other guy shared with his buddies, and then he yelled up, “You’re Raiden’s friends?” Clint smirked. “My brother’s his best friend.”

That settled them and they moved along.

When the announcer climbed into the arena and grabbed a microphone, Clint got close. “You okay with this?”

I glanced at him, then did a double take because there was serious concern there. “Are you okay?” “It’s—” His mouth got tight, and his shoulders hunched forward. “I didn’t think. We didn’t think. It’s violent . . .” I shook my head, touching his arm. “I’m good. I promise.”

“We just didn’t think, then I realized maybe this isn’t a situation you want to be in.”

“It’s fine.”

When the announcer finished announcing and a guy got into the ring, I stopped thinking altogether.

This guy was huge. I knew they did the same weight classes, but no way was he the same weight as Scout. Fear trickled through me, but that shifted quickly to something else. Something way more distracting because Scout had gotten into the ring too.

He wasn’t wearing anything but shorts, and oh my God, the tats. The tattoos. They were everywhere on him. Not in a bad way, but in a very-hot and so-not-legal hot way. The crowd was going nuts, but I was dumbstruck. On both arms, there were tattoos of wings, and as he turned and lifted his arms, they were wings. The detail was incredible, even from where I was standing, I could see it, and down the middle of his back was an eagle. When his arms were up, the wings were stretched out, intertwining with his tribal tattoo on his one arm. When they were down, it looked like a normal tattoo of an eagle. He had other tattoos on him. They were perfect. My heart was pounding.

Good gracious, this attraction to him was going to kill me. Maybe literally. It was annoying, and distracting, and I wanted it to go away. Seeing him like this was like lust had been injected with three shots of adrenaline.

His eyes were dark, stormy. His face was fierce. The other guy was jeering at him, trying to get a reaction, but not Scout. He wasn’t there to put on a show. He was the show, and everyone knew it. The crowd’s volume was incredible when they said Scout’s name, and then—they rang the bell.

The match was on.

I totally understood why people thought violence was hot. Because it was. If it was controlled. If it was a spectator sport. If the guys looked like Scout and his giant opponent as they swung on each other. Jabbing. Dodging. Kicking. The guy tried to kick at Scout’s head, but he took the opening to tackle him. It was a takedown, his arms and legs wrapped around the guy, and the other guy was trying to twist free. He was struggling, struggling, until a whistle sounded.

I didn’t know what happened, but they were going again. This time, the guy came straight at Scout. He was pissed and sloppy. Even I could tell. Scout capitalized, ducking and then bam! He gave him an uppercut, then another, and another. He had the guy against the ring’s cage and was pummeling him. Scout knew how to move. He did it effortlessly. With perfect precision. He darted when he needed, danced back when it worked, and then moved in for the kill ruthlessly. He did it over and over again, and the crowd was loving it. They were eating it up.

They wanted more.

He was going to win. That was obvious from the first big move, and the opponent’s giant size no longer worried me. My pulse was racing. I was breathing fast. I lost time because I was locked in on watching Scout. They went three rounds before Scout delivered a hit that the guy didn’t get up from. He was declared the winner, and everyone went nuts.

The guys were yelling next to me. Cohen was clapping and then turning and high-fiving my cousins and me. I stepped away from the intensity because it was overwhelming, and jarring, but it was also a reminder where I was. At a fight. Watching a fight. With strangers, and my cousins, and I’d completely forgotten everything else until that moment. I’d been so enthralled with Scout, and my gaze went back to him.

His eyes were on me.

They were piercing.

He wanted me in that moment. I knew it, like his eyes darkened at seeing me because he knew I wanted him as well.

Fuck.

Fuck!

The ache was there, right where he’d thrust inside. Him moving in me. Him touching me. Tasting me. I wanted to feel his arms around me, his sleek muscles holding me in place as he pounded me, and I wanted it bad.

God.

I ripped my gaze away, physically aching. Aching from looking away from him, from seeing what I was feeling reflecting in him, and aching from the total and complete throbbing that was going through my entire body.

“You ready?”

I startled, rounding on my cousin. “What?”

Trenton was the one who asked, and I looked around for everyone else. Clint in the corner, talking to some girls, but Alex and Cohen were gone. After another second, I spotted them winding their way to the cage to talk to Scout. I couldn’t endure that, standing there, listening to the guys talk to Scout, not being able to touch him. And knowing he would know the torment that’d be on me. It was humiliating in a way because I had no doubt he’d have his needs checked by then. Or hell, he’d literally have them fulfilled by someone else. Someone not me. No matter how much my wanton body wanted to do it, I couldn’t. No way. He was Alex’s best friend. He and Cohen were friends with Clint and Trenton. I was their cousin.

It’d be wrong.

I coughed, my voice coming out hoarse, “Could we leave? Like now?”

Trenton blinked, his grin fading. “Are you okay?”

“Could Alex get a ride back with Cohen? This whole situation was a lot for me. I thought I could handle it . . .” I was lying. I needed to stop and just let it be where I left it because my cousins could tell when I lied. They’d always been able to tell. They were human Ramsay lie detectors, but Trenton’s gaze had darkened. He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah. We can go.”

Relief hit me hard.

We started down, and I heard him yelling at Clint, “Gotta go, doofus.”

“Don’t call me doofus, doofus. Hey, wait. What’s going on? Is something wrong with Ramsay?” He caught up, zeroing in on me and getting a good look at my face. I let him see how bothered I was, masking the other emotions. He cursed under his breath. “I’m sorry, Rams. I thought—”

I shook my head. “Let’s just get home. I had fun, but it got to be a lot by the end.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He ran a hand over his face, sharing a look with Trenton. “We’ll head home.”

Right before we stepped outside, I glanced back and saw Scout watching us as if he knew the truth.

His gaze was almost mocking as I ducked my head and kept going.

Kept running from him.