“No, she wouldn’t. And for some reason, she’s really taken a serious fucking liking to you.”

“I assume that was a compliment?”

The corners of Deacon’s lips quirked. “Yeah, it was a compliment. Willow doesn’t interact with anyone outside our club. And even though she’s spoiled fucking rotten here, she doesn’t react half as much with us as she did out there with you.” He shook his head. “And, man, the fact she was talking, too.”

“I’m glad she’s bonded with me. I care about her very much.”

“Enough to come here to this hellhole every afternoon?”

I nodded. “Yes. That much.”

Deacon rose out of his chair. Thrusting his hand at me, he said, “Well, I guess you have yourself a job, Miss Evans.”

Rising up to meet him, I let him take my hand in his. “I accept, Mr. Malloy.”

“Then let’s go tell Willow the happy news.”

As I followed him to the door, I could never have imagined in that moment how being a part of Deacon and Willow’s world was going to change my life.

“That’s it. Give me your best, you pussy!” I antagonized, dodging the punches that whirled at my head. Adrenaline thrummed through my veins, pumping energy through my arms and legs. No drug or drink ever got me as high as fighting. I dug the feel of my fists connecting with the hard bone of the jaw or the soft flesh of the abdomen as things escalated quickly into a whirlwind of hits.

My boots dragged across the canvas of the boxing ring as I made quick footwork. They didn’t make the best choice for sparring, but when I had come down to the Raiders Gym to check on business, I hadn’t expected to fill in as the chief second, or the head trainer, for Bishop.

While I’d learned to use my fists to survive on the streets, Bishop had honed his fighting skills in the ring. Before the Raiders bought the gym, Preacher Man had often brought us here to work off steam. It wasn’t long before Bishop was knocking out seasoned fighters. He’d won several division titles and probably could have gone pro, but the higher he rose in the sport, the more people wanted to stick their nose into his private life—primarily the club.

To the average onlooker, the gym, with its boxing and martial-arts training, looked legitimate, but it was all a front. For the club, it was a way to manage interstate gambling on fights and races. Bishop didn’t want to do anything that would bring heat down on the club, so he continued boxing in the lower divisions.

Even as stealthily as Bishop moved across the floor, deflecting my hits and throwing his own back at me, I could tell he was off his usual game. “This is turning into quite a walkover, little bro.”

“Easy fight, my ass! You’re panting and in a sweat,” Bishop challenged.

“These jeans and boots aren’t exactly lightweight.”

Bobbing and weaving in front of me like a cobra, Bishop anticipated my next move. When I remained still, he shrugged. “I just had a late night—that’s all.”

“Dumbass, you know better than to bang club whores the night before a major training day.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Then what kept you up?” I asked.

He dodged my unexpected jab and flashed me a wicked smile. “Guess you could say I’m hot for the teacher. I kept jerking off to Miss Evans.”

I froze on the spot. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Bishop’s laugh echoed around us. “Yeah, I’m man enough to admit I was jerking off rather than fucking some club whore ass.” When I continued staring at him, Bishop stopped hopping around. “Come on, bro. After you’ve seen a fine, white-bread piece of ass like that, it’s hard to take some sloppy seconds to your bed. I mean, I only got to see her for, like, five minutes, but you had your hands all over her.” He closed his eyes. “Can you imagine how fucking tight she would be?”

I threw a hard right hook to his jaw before I could stop myself. Bishop staggered back. Shaking his head, he rubbed his gloved hand along his reddened jaw. “Deacon, what the fuck, man?” he demanded.

“Don’t be talking like that about Willow’s teacher.”

“Well, I sure wouldn’t do it in front of her, but I thought you and I were on the same page when it came to pussy.”

Shaking my head, I growled, “Not about hers.”

Bishop leaned back against the ropes. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t think she’s hot as fuck?”

I closed the distance between us to where I was once again up in his face. “You got a hearing problem, little brother? I said don’t talk about her like that.” Shoving him, I said, “You got another thing coming if you think you’re going to turn on your sweet-boy charm to try and tap her ass. She’s fucking off-limits. Got it?”

Bishop’s blue eyes widened. “Oh yeah, I think I got it.” He stood toe to toe with me. “I get it loud and clear. But maybe next time you should piss on her leg to mark her as yours.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “That ain’t it.”

“You sure? ’Cause I sure ain’t never seen you get this fucking twitchy over someone sniffing around Cheyenne.”

My teeth ground together in frustration. “Doesn’t the old adage ‘don’t shit where you eat’ mean anything to you?”

“Suppose so.”

“For reasons I don’t even begin to fucking understand, that Miss Evans means a hell of a lot to Willow. If she gets scared off because some douche bag uses her, then that hurts Willow. Not to mention the fact that this bitch has me by the balls with CPS.”

Bishop processed my words. “Okay, okay. I’ll keep Miss Evans for my spank bank.”

Rolling my eyes, I cuffed the back of his head. “You’re a disgusting fuck.”

Just as we were about to start running through a few more combinations, Archer, one of the prospects, came sprinting up to the ring. “Prez just called an emergency church meeting. Wants you guys there in ten minutes,” he said, his words coming in wheezing pants from his exertion.

Snatching off the sparring mitts, I pushed away the feeling of overwhelming foreboding and hustled over to the ropes with Bishop on my heels. We slid underneath them and then hopped down. I thumped Archer on the back before heading outside to my waiting bike. I cut the usual ten-minute drive to the clubhouse into five. Bishop, followed by Archer, stayed on my tail.

When I threw open the clubhouse door, I found the inside as silent as a tomb. None of the usual retirees were lounging around the bar, throwing back beers. The pool table balls were racked and ready to go, but no one was around to play. Prez must’ve put the word out that we were not to be disturbed.