Page 60 of Craving the Edge

“Gary’s here,” I told him. “The useless prick finally showed his face.”

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m doing my best not to punch him, but it’s a losing battle.” I watched Gary shift his weight, his gaze fixed on the rubble as if he could will himself invisible.

A low growl came down the line. “Don’t move. I’m five minutes away.”

Before I could reply, he hung up. I shoved the phone into my pocket.

“Char, I swear…” Gary swallowed hard.

“You swear what?” I clenched my fists, shaking. “That you ruined my life? That you took advantage of me? That you’re scum? You loaned money from criminals you couldn’t pay back! What do you think was going to happen?”

The roar of an engine cut me off as Declan’s silver Audi swung into the car park, tyres crunching on gravel as it braked hard. He was out of the driver’s seat in an instant, slamming the door shut.

He stalked towards us, his eyes locked on Gary with the predatory fighter’s gaze he was famous for. He didn’t glance at me at all. His focus was absolute. Gary took a step back, his hands held up again.

Declan didn’t say a word. He reached Gary, grabbed a fistful of his grimy shirt, and hauled him off his feet. With a brutal motion, he half-dragged, half-threw Gary towards the narrow alley that ran alongside the ruined building.

I followed them into the shadows as Declan moved with terrifying grace. He didn’t just shove Gary…he slammed him against the wall. Gary’s head hit with a dull crack and he slid down a few inches, whimpering.

Declan leaned in, one palm flat against the wall beside Gary’s head, penning him in. “Your time in this industry is finished,” Declan growled. “You try to open another gym, you try to weasel your way back in, I’ll find you and you will lose. Every single time.” He lowered his head, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “And if you do anything to hurt Char, if you drag her name through any more of your mess, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your miserable life eating through a fucking straw.”

“Please,” Gary sobbed, his hands clutching at Declan’s arm. “I’m sorry, I’ll fix it, I swear⁠—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Declan pulled out his phone, his gaze never leaving Gary’s pathetic face. He tapped the screen and held it to his ear. I stood at the entrance to the alley, the rough edges of the brick wall cold against my back, my heart pounding.

“Detective? It’s Declan Walsh. I’m at the scene of the Fighter’s Edge firebombing,” Declan said into the phone. “You’ll want to send a car. The owner, Gary Henderson, is here and available for questioning right now.”

He ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket. He didn’t move, just stood there, a formidable silhouette pinning Gary to the wall.

He was fighting for me. Again. A raw, protective force I’d never known was all for me.

The world narrowed to that dark alley and the sight of Declan standing guard on my behalf. My heart swelled and I knew I’d made the right decision.

I didn’t know if this was the moment I fell for Declan Walsh, but it was pretty damn close.

The clatter of the 24-hour diner on Sydney Road did little to soothe the tremor in my hands. I stared at the laminated menu, the photos of steak sandwiches and milkshakes a meaningless blur.

Declan’s thigh pressed against mine, his warm presence in the vinyl booth entirely welcome. He’d chosen to sit beside me, not across, boxing me in with his muscled body.

I kept replaying the image of the police car pulling away, Gary slumped in the back seat. The terror on his face was darkly satisfying. A small measure of justice in a world that’d gone completely sideways, but that wasn’t what made a coil of heat tighten low in my gut.

That was reserved for Declan. The sight of him moving with such brutal purpose. Hauling Gary into the alley, slamming him against the brick wall. The raw violence in his voice as he fought for me.

And fuck, it’d been hot as hell. I’d seen him train, get sweaty, saw the look in his eyes when he came, but nothing prepared me for the look he got when he was about to fight. Dangerous, raw, predatory… What would he look like when I saw him in the cage for real and not on a TV screen?

Well, I wanted to straddle him and go at it…and that was just for starters.

A hot flush crawled up my neck. I shifted on the seat, the cheap vinyl squeaking in protest as I squeezed my thighs together in a desperate attempt to contain the sudden thrum of arousal.

A low chuckle vibrated through Declan’s chest and I glanced at him. He hadn’t been looking at the menu either. Those same eyes I’d been fixating on were on me, a smirk playing on his lips. He saw it. Of course, he saw it.

He leaned in closer, his mouth hovering near my ear, his breath a caress against my skin. “Something on your mind, Char?”

“Plenty,” I murmured. “Where would you like me to start?”