Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance)(82)

I can’t even watch. I can’t bear the thought of meeting eyes with him right now.

Out of the corner of my eye I see him fake a jab, spin around on a pivot, elbow Manic in the jaw. Manic goes down like a sack of bricks, and Duncan clambers on top of him, gets him into a Pace choke; a submission hold that stops all blood from going to the brain.

The crowd is erupting. Duncan drips with blood; both his and Manic’s. Tonight, they didn’t stop at the sight of crimson.

Manic slips loose, though.

The fight will go on.

I start to run, push past people in my way. I get to the exit of the hangar, slip out through the crack of the two huge doors, and I run off into the foggy night.

I know what I have to do.

I have to save my baby.

And I can’t let my mind linger on the fact that it breaks my heart to break another’s.

Duncan’s going to be looking for me after the fight, after he wins.

He has no idea he’s the father of my child, has no idea I’m even pregnant, and now he can never know. I can’t tell anybody. I can’t let it out.

If Dad ever finds out, he’ll send Frank after Duncan. He’ll kill Duncan.

This is the only way to save us all.

I dry my eyes, walk out of the airfield toward the road. I find a waiting cab, climb in. There’s not much time.

This is the only way.

I have to leave everything behind.





Chapter Twenty Nine





Manic is on the mat clutching at his shoulder. I felt the ball pop out of the socket, followed by his labrum tearing. His whole arm jumped out like a jack-in-the-box.

He tapped out.

I spin around in the cage, look for Dee’s face among the crowd.

I spot Glass at the table with the other mob bosses. He’s looking at me proudly, clapping his hands.

Blood drips into my eye, and I wipe it away, ignoring the searing sting I feel from the fresh cut on my forehead.

Where the hell is Dee?

There’s this feeling in the pit of my gut, like something has gone horribly wrong, like I’m about to fall through my own body.

My heart starts to race, and as the ref approaches me to declare me the winner, to lift my arm up, I push past him, throw open the gate to the fighting cage.

The crowd goes wild. Everybody gets up, girls rush toward me, rub their hands on me, try to clamber on top of me. Guys call me ‘bro’ and try to high-five or dap me. Men in suits just grin at me, counting the money they’ve made off my blood.

And Conrad Butler’s blood.

I turn around, look back at him quickly in the cage. He’s being tended to by the doc.

Glass’ guards quickly come to me, start shoving people off me, and I spin around until I spot Frank, go to him.

“Frank, where’s Dee?” I ask.

He looks down at the ground.

“Frank!”

He starts to speak, but stammers.

“Fucking tell me!”

“I don’t know, Duncan. She left in a hurry.”

“Was she upset about something?”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

“It’s not my place to say, Duncan.”

I narrow my eyes, tilt my head to the side. Not his place to say? What the fuck does that mean?

“Where did she go?”

“She just left.”

“The hangar? She left this building?”

He nods.

I weave myself around him, through the rest of the crowd, and into the back room. I throw on a t-shirt, pull up sweats, check for my car keys, and as I’m about to leave, I notice Dee’s phone still on the table. She must have taken it out and forgotten it.

I grab her phone, then rush outside onto the airfield where all the cars are parked down the runway.

I find the Volvo, gun the puttering engine, speed as fast as the car can out of the area, onto the highway. There’s this feeling of dread I’ve got, like a hole is inside me and sucking me into it.

It’s not like Dee to just leave a fight, and with Frank saying she was upset about something… it just feels off to me.

Something is off.

My phone starts ringing, and I answer it.

“What?” I snarl. It’s Glass.

“Where are you?”

“I’m going home.”

“Why?”

“What do you want, Glass?”

“Why have you left? You need to get back here now. I want to introduce you to some of my associates. They’re new in town.”

“Not now, Glass.”

I hear strain in his voice. “Get back here now.”

I hang up, chuck the phone onto the dash. It rattles about. I might have broken it.

My heart is racing.

Nothing else matters.

I screech to a halt outside my apartment building, just in time to narrowly avoid a taxi pulling out. I take the steps up two at a time, throw open the door.

“Dee!”

There is no answer. I switch on the lights, look around. The apartment is empty.