Branded(28)
Phina doesn’t acknowledge the fact that everything is all out in the open now that I know about her scumbag father. She has no reason to push me away and exclude me from this shit because she has something to hide. I put myself in her shoes and think about how I would feel if one of my darkest secrets was out there for everyone to know.
I would hate that kind of vulnerability. I would be pissed at everyone around me and take it out on anyone I could. More than ever, I want to just pull this damn woman in my arms and tell her to let me take care of her, but I know just by the look on her face that she’ll never allow it.
She laughs cynically at Collin and takes another step away from him.
“Don’t worry, my father doesn’t need anyone on the outside, he’s been released. All of this twisted shit is being done by his own hands. Stay out of it, Collin.”
With that, she turns and walks away. Finnley calls her name and goes running after her.
“I have to call this in. She’s going to fucking hate me, but I have to do it,” Collin tells me.
I nod and let out a huge sigh. “I have the number of someone you can call. He already knows about the notes and he’s been looking into things.”
Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I text the number to Collin before packing up my first responder bag.
I saved her life, but Dax is going to save the day.
Fucking Dax. I really should have beaten his ass when I had the chance.
Checking out my reflection in the windows on either side of the door to the firehouse, I briefly wonder if the outfit I chose is a bit much for Fight Night. The A-line, black leather skirt barely covers my ass and crotch and the knee-high black stiletto boots look great paired with it, but could easily be confused for hooker boots. Adjusting my dark green shirt that hangs down off of one shoulder and perfectly compliments my green eyes, I realize I don’t give a fuck if the outfit is too much. It makes me feel bold, sexy and in control, something I am in dire need of after this morning’s events.
Another note was taped to my front door when I got home from the fair, this time asking me if I enjoyed being the ‘damsel in distress.’ It was bad enough to faint in front of a park full of strangers, but to have DJ see me so weak and pathetic was just too much for me to handle. I know I should have thanked him for what he did. He saved my life. If he hadn’t been there to give me that shot of glucose, who knows what would have happened? I was too busy worrying that he saw my scars and what he would think of me to bother with thanking the man for making sure I didn’t die. A part of me wished he saw them, hoped his eyes roamed over the burns on my hips and realized just how incredibly fucked up I am. Maybe then he would leave me the hell alone and I wouldn’t have all of these conflicting feelings about him. I wouldn’t be afraid that he knew the truth about me and I wouldn’t be having second thoughts about paying him back for what he did to me in high school. My father is out of prison, sending me notes and trying to kill me. Clearly I have more important things going on in my life than worrying about what some guy thinks of me. Tonight, I’m going to waltz into this fucking firehouse and be the person I’m comfortable with: bitchy, in control and independent. I don’t need anyone to save me and I don’t need anyone to protect me from the big bad wolf. If they look close enough, they’ll realize I’m the one with the sharpest teeth. And I definitely like to bite.
Pulling open the door to the station, I head inside, following the signs through the reception area pointing towards the truck bay where Fight Night is to be held. Halfway down the hall, I hear clapping and cheers, indicating the fights have already started. I step through the open doorway into the bay and I have to say, I’m pretty amazed by what I see. All of the trucks have been removed and the wide-open space has been transformed into a boxing arena. Right in the center of the room is a large, professional looking boxing ring, and there are two men in the middle duking it out. Several rows of chairs are set up all around the ring, currently occupied by people sitting down to watch the fight while a hundred or so other people are content to stand behind them, screaming and giving each other high-fives. Walking over to the cafeteria table next to the door, I pay the twenty-dollar entrance fee and make my way through the crowds of people to the only quiet corner in the place. Pulling a flask out of my purse, I discreetly tip the small, stainless steel container back and swallow a few huge mouthfuls of tequila. I feel a hand tap my shoulder and quickly hide the flask behind me. Being that this is a government building, I don’t think they would take too kindly to me having alcohol in here. Turning around, my eyes meet the bare, muscular chest of Dax. Even though the sight of him does nothing for me, I’m woman enough to appreciate the fine specimen that he is. I trail my eyes up his chest to find him smirking down at me.