"More candy bars?"

"Knock it off."

She's blushing furiously and I finally get it. Girl stuff. "Sorry."

Even out of the corner of my eye, I can tell my apology shocks her. "Why are you being so nice to me tonight?"

"Have I been mean?"

"Are you serious?"

"Sorry."

"What for?"

"I'm sorry I've been such an asshole that you're shocked when I'm nice to you."

"Wrath-"

"I mean it."

"Okay." She's quiet for a while. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her twisting her hands in her lap. Obviously, there's something she wants to say. "Thanks for worrying about me before."

I'm not sure which time she's talking about. It seems like I'm always worried about Trinity.

"When I got to CB. I can't believe you think I'd ever get up and take my clothes off in front of a room full of people. I mean, in the dark, you know, with one or-"

"Trin, stop, please."

Christ, I don't need the threesome reminder. It hits me-she means the scarring on her hip. I've always thought she was one of the most beautiful women I've ever known and don't give her scars a lot of thought, so yeah, I thought she came down to CB to dance. It never occurred to me the scars bother her that much.

"You're one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen, Trinity."

"That's sweet, Wrath."

I can tell by her tone she thinks I'm just blowing smoke up her ass, and I hate it. "Trin, I'm not just saying that."

"Thanks," she says softly, this time sounding more convinced.

For the second night in a row, we're basically alone in the house. All the guys are either downstairs or at Crystal Ball.

"Wanna finish watching those movies?"

We'd only managed to make it through two of the Paranormal Activity movies. Just as I remembered, Trin is still a fuck lot of fun to watch scary movies with. She jumps at the scary stuff and pretends to cover her eyes. A lot of the time, she giggles. Maybe originally I'd picked them because I'd been hoping she'd want to cuddle up during the scary scenes, but what ended up happening instead? No contest.

Tonight, she does snuggle up against me, resting her head on my chest. She reaches behind us and pulls down a blanket. I settle my hand on her hip and wait for her to say something or move away, but she stays. After a while, I realize she's asleep. My hand inches under her shirt to stroke her soft skin.

Skin I've really missed touching.

We'd had what turned into an angry hookup the night of the party I held to celebrate the opening of my gym. Fantastic, explosive sex that ended badly because of my stupid mouth. But I hadn't been able to hold her or touch her like this. Not since our first three nights together.

"Wrath, I can't," she whispers, halting my exploration.

Right. The secret supplies she bought. At least I comfort myself with the fact she won't be sleeping with any of my brothers for the next few days either.

"Thought you were asleep, babe."

"I was. You're tickling me."

Oh. My fingers twitch over her ribs, and she giggles. "Stop."

"Okay." Pure lust burns through me, but I rearrange her shirt and lay my hand on top of the blanket. "Go back to sleep, Trin."

After a while, she drops off. I flip on the weather station and mute the television. Throughout the night, the sounds of my brothers and whatever girls they've brought with them infiltrate our quiet little bubble. Eventually, I fall asleep too.

In the morning, I wake up alone.

Because I'm a lucky fuck and shit always seems to go my way, Z and Teller are the two brothers who ride with me to the fight. Rock would normally be here, but he's somewhere balls deep in his bitch.

Teller's acting like a nervous mama around me. Considering he's one-third of the reason I'm here, I find that perversely funny.

The guy I'm fighting came in from the West Coast, where supposedly fighters take shit more seriously? Don't know; don't care. What I do know is I have a fuck lot of rage to unleash on someone. Since it can't be my brother, it's gonna be Cali.

"Just worry about your end, Mr. Treasurer. Let me handle the gritty stuff."

He storms off in a toddler-worthy fit.

"What crawled up your ass?" Z asks.

"Gee, I don't know, maybe him questioning my ability to win a fight about an hour before I have to go in the ring?"

"He didn't say that." Z cocks his head and studies me for a minute. "When did you schedule this fight anyway?"

"Last weekend. Why?"

"Just curious. Seemed like it came out of nowhere."

I hadn't been given the name Wrath at sixteen because I knew how to hold back, so little welterweight Teller, of all people, questioning me fucking pissed me off. Fighting gave me the outlet to unleash all my boiled-up, held-in, blistering rage. Rage that this time Teller unknowingly has caused.

The only form of fighting I could do was underground, where the rules were bendable. All the people who participated understood the need to keep their mouths shut.

I can't stop thinking about last weekend, after Trinity and I left Crystal Ball together. Time seemed to reverse, leaving us where we were eight years ago. Fuck, if I'm not dying to recapture that. Recapture her. Let go of the past and do shit right this time.

Once I get this fight out of the way, I plan to concentrate on her. Our two little movie nights hadn't been enough. I'd only seen her here and there all week. Although, she made a point of stopping to wish me luck before I left tonight. Her honest encouragement and soft smile shredded me inside.

All thoughts left my brain as I stepped into the makeshift ring and focused on my opponent. The rage I kept locked down bubbled through me, further narrowing my focus.

Glaring at the punk-ass bitch who'd flown in from Cali to fight me, I follow him around the ring, assessing his skill. For his heavyweight frame, he moves with grace and speed; I'd give him that. I'm also surprisingly quick for a guy my size. I've got strength and power.

And a fuckload of fury.

Tired of fucking around, I move to take his ass down for good.

Kicking out, I land a solid hit on his thigh, then connect my fist with his chin. A fist to the kidney and punch to his temple, and he hits the floor. After a few ticks, the ref blows the whistle and calls the match in my favor.

I shake off the tingling in my hands and limp out of the ring, barely out of breath.

"Waste of a fucking plane ticket," I growl at the ref, who laughs back.

Z and Teller meet me with grins on their faces.

"Nice job, bro," Teller says with a slap on my back. I suffer a minor bit of guilt for being so pissy with him before.

Couple people in the back room give me shit about how quick the fight ended. Fuck 'em.

People bitch about the money they lost because they bet against me. Fuck them too.

I stay in lethal shape. My life and the lives of my brothers depends on it. Not that any of them are pansies. Every one of my brothers could fight. Even dickhead Teller who used his smaller size to his advantage.

I'd trained them all to some degree. It's in our by-laws that everyone needs to keep in fighting shape. No fat, beer-bellied, sloppy slobs allowed. That was a good way to get yourself killed. I never understood how any true outlaw could let himself get soft. We shunned society's conventions, so our fists, our strength was sometimes all we had. Something these punks never understand-I would fight to the death to protect what belongs to me.

So some little underground match like this?

Bitch, please.

The clubhouse is in an uproar when Wrath walks in. Arms stretched over his head, cocky grin in place, he asks for a Jack and Coke the minute he sees me.

Raising an eyebrow and cocking my head to the side, I answer, "Only if you won."

Grinning back at me, he winks. "I always win, babe."

"Cocky fucker," I tease, handing him his drink.

He downs it quick. "Fuck, that's good. Missed ol' Jack."

Club girls swarm around him, and I swallow down my jealousy as he turns around to talk them up.

Prez stays long enough to congratulate Wrath, then takes off. To see Hope, I assume, and the thought makes me happy.

After watching him spend time with skank after skank for years, the way he pants after good girl Hope is pretty adorable.

Teller slides up next to me and runs his fingers up my arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Should'a seen him. He made it look like it was nothing."

I suck in a painful breath. Wrath has never wanted me to come to one of his fights. "I can imagine."

"Want some help back here?"

Glancing up, I see Wrath and Roxy getting cozy. God, I hate that little bitch. Cookie slides up to him next, and he slips an arm over each of their shoulders.

God-fucking-dammit. After hanging out last weekend, I thought maybe he was willing to let the past go and we might start again. But I see now how fucking stupid that was of me.

His head turns slightly and his eyes narrow. Suddenly, I'm overly aware of how close Teller is standing next to me and what it must look like to Wrath.

I step back to put a little distance between us. But it's too late. Wrath's leading the two of them to the couch. I know what's about to go down, and I just can't watch it again. He's still paying me back for every time I fucked one of his brothers.

But I can't do this anymore.

"Actually, yeah. I'm not feeling too well. I'm going to go to bed."

Teller cocks his head with concern. "Do you need me to get you something?"

A gun so I can put a bullet in Roxy and Cookie would be nice.

"Nah, I'm just exhausted."

"Okay."

Fighting tears, I push my way through the crowd. I'll still be able to hear the party, but at least in my room, I can be alone. I've got some things to work on anyway. If I slip in my headphones while I'm working, I'll never know what's going on out there.

I'm in the bathroom washing my face when someone knocks on my door. Ignoring it, I slip on my nightshirt.

Whoever's out there is a persistent asshole, though, because they knock again.

Opening the door a crack, I find Wrath looming in my doorway. I poke my head out, looking left and right. "Where's your fan club?"

"You in there alone?"

I close the door and step into the hallway with him. "You know I am."

He eyes me up and down, and suddenly, I'm self-conscious in my pink nightshirt with the little gray poodles dotted all over it.

"Cute," he says with a cocky smirk.

"So what did you want?"

His face turns serious. "Teller said you didn't feel well. Do you need anything?"

I'm not sure what to do with that. "I'm okay. Thank you, though."

He looks like he has more to say but isn't sure about it. I wait for a second, but his head drops. "Night, Trin."

"Night, Wrath."

I only catch a glimpse of Trinity leaving the bar area. Her head's down as she pushes her way down the hall. Roxy and Cookie are busy making out in my lap and trying to draw me into their clinch.