Circling him, I stretch my arms and joints. “Scared, Phantom?”
There’s no way in hell he’ll back down in front of the countless criminals gathered all around us. His reputation would be toast.
“What game are you playing?”
My eyes narrow in response to his glare. “You asked me to come.”
“I did, but that invitation wasn’t to fight.” Blaine lazily trails his obsidians over me, shoulders rising with each breath. “You look good, sweetheart.”
“I’m not here to flirt.”
“Too bad.” He cracks his knuckles. “Thought I owed you a drink.”
“You do. Perhaps not here, though.” I motion to our surroundings. “Is this what you do now?”
Blaine erupts in laughter that licks my alert senses. “Among other things.”
“Things like rescuing the family members of the people who put you behind bars?”
Sobering, he openly appraises me. “I told you before, sweetheart. Spoilers.”
“Right. Is that a second date kind of topic?”
“Depends on how the first date goes.” Blaine rolls his neck.
Clearly, he isn’t going to spill his grand master plan or provide any information about Gael so easily. I’ll have to bargain with him.
“You have two choices here,” I spell out. “Fight me or back down in front of your entire crew. But if I win, you’re going to answer all of my questions. Including how you found me.”
“That’s a tall order.”
“It’s a reasonable bargain. Take it or leave it.”
The referee looks to Blaine, then when he eventually receives a nod, he begins to call for bets. Suddenly, the murmurs around us erupt into blaring noise as everyone rushes to get a piece of the action.
“I suppose it would be un-gentlemanly of me to refuse your bargain,” Blaine acquiesces with a wink. “Though I doubt laying you out would win me any brownie points either.”
Stretching my legs, I can’t hold back a laugh. “What makes you think I’d let you?”
Blaine shrugs, rolling his lip piercing with his tongue. “I’ve never lost.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything. I’m going to enjoy ripping that inflated ego out of you by your throat.”
Lips parting on a chuckle, he halts in front of me. He’s close enough for the scent of peppercorns and bergamot to waft from his exposed skin and tickle my awareness.
Unlike Axel, Blaine isn’t completely covered in tattoos. There are a few odd pieces dotted here and there—a feathery pair of angel wings dipping into his jeans, a geometric design above his left pec, scrawling text along his ribcage.
The urge to trace each intricate piece with my fingertips overwhelms me. It’s quickly followed by a burst of irritation. This man threw me out of a van and abandoned me.
I’m not interested in him.
I just want his intel.
“This suits you.”
“Fighting in a dirty warehouse?” I spread my feet in preparation. “Gee. Thanks.”
“Standing by my side,” Blaine corrects. “Surrounded by my people. Inmyterritory.”
