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Romero was at least fifteen
years his junior and had the cocky attitude Nate remembered having himself when
he was younger. He lifted his gloves and danced around his opponent.
    The
first punch came to his stomach. He grunted, irritated for himself for
tightening up, he swung with his right, and popped Romero on the chin. Shit,
that felt good.
    Adrenaline
fueled him forward. This is what he lived for growing up. Working up a sweat,
hitting some flesh, and thinking there was nothing in the world that could take
him down.
    Pain
whipped his head around. He shook the hit off, punching his way out. One, two,
three. Romero's uppercut clipped him under the chin. Flashes of light filled
his vision and he moved forward, hitting low, until arms circled his upper body.
    He
threw Romero off him and jabbed. He didn't need Addy.
    She
could stay in the house, denying her attraction to him all she wanted and her
rebuttal couldn't touch him. He swung a roundhouse before delivering a kidney
punch that took Romero to his knees. He needed no one. He never had.
    He
continued swinging. Fuck Addy.
    Over
and over, he proved how he could do without her. He could have anyone, use
anyone, and kill anyone. It was all about beating the darkness back, and he
always found ways to let loose. Professor was wrong. One person wouldn't change
him. He needed to cause pain, and anyone would do.
    "Rafferty!
End it." Dawg threw a metal chair in the ring. "You're out."
    He
stepped back, breathing hard, and stared down at his opponent. Romero hung his
head, resting on his hands and knees. Blood dripped onto the matt.
    Nate
rubbed his arm across his mouth. A streak of his own blood left a trail on his
skin and the sweet taste filled his mouth.
    He
ripped off his gloves, threw them out of the ring, and jumped down. He ignored
Dawg cussing him out, and swept up his clothes. This was who he was.
    He
enjoyed causing pain, blood, and seeing someone cower at his feet. Nothing
compared to surviving.
    He'd
forgotten himself the last couple of days. Thought he could be happy hanging
around Addison when he knew he was only pretending. She'd run from him if she
could she him now. Hot from the fight, hanging out in a part of town known for transients
and drug houses on every corner.
    Out
of the building, he walked straight to his car and climbed in. His phone rang
on his seat, and he picked it up without looking to see who was calling.
    "What?"
he snapped.
    "Um,
Nate?" Addison asked. "I'm–"
    "Are
you at home?" He put his keys in the car and started the engine.
    "Yes,"
she whispered.
    "Stay
there." He disconnected the call.
    If
she wanted to play games, he'd show her who Nathan Rafferty really was. A thug
from the wrong side of town. A man who'd rather beat her than love her. Maybe then,
he could get her out of his head and get his life back on track.

 
    Chapter
Six
    At
the sight of Nate walking up to her door, Addison closed the curtain and blew
out her breath. What am I doing?
    She
pressed a hand to her stomach. Maybe she should've waited to call him.
    Nate
banged on the door instead of using the doorbell. She wrapped her sweater coat
around her tightly, and moved over to let him in. Too late now, he was here.
    Looming
in the doorway, Nate's gaze assaulted her. She gasped, pulling him inside.
"What happened to you?'
    He
remained silent, his upper lip encrusted in blood. She reached up and stopped
herself from touching his face. His cheekbone swollen under one eye seemed to
make him even scarier. She guided him to the chair in the living room.
    "Sit."
She hurried out of the room.
    In
the kitchen, she grabbed two dish clothes. As she let the faucet run, she
scooped a handful of ice from the freezer and placed it in one of the towels.
Then she ran the other towel under the warm water and rung the rag out.
    She
returned to him and kneeled at his feet. "Did you get in an
accident?"
    He
shook his head, or maybe he flinched away from her she couldn't tell until he
said,