Undefeated Read online

  Busted.

  She cleared her throat and motioned to the stove. “I’m assuming you know how to boil water as well as you know how to make a girl’s cheeks blush.”

  It couldn’t have changed all that much since he last did it. Xander shrugged. “One of my top five kitchen skills.”

  With a resounding hmph, Gia filled the saucepan and lit the gas stovetop. In between trips to her room, she supervised his meal preparation and sneaked a bite as a car stopped in the driveway.

  She sighed. “Grant’s here. Lock the door handle behind you when you leave. See you in the morning.”

  Her heels clicked against the porcelain tile before the door thumped shut. Xander peeked out the window to catch a glimpse of her date, but his head was twisted as he reversed the car. Dinner date thief. An odd feeling of pride erased his jealousy. She’d trusted him enough to leave him alone in her house.

  Xander’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Had Gia forgotten something already? The number sported a Colorado area code, so he answered.

  “Xander, this is Andrea Harbinger. I mean Andrea Reed.” Her soft voice stumbled around as she searched for the right words and gave up in a chuckle. “I think you know who I am, right?”

  “Right. Hello, Andrea.”

  “Sorry to interrupt at dinner time, but I talked to my friend and I have a name for you.”

  Xander’s heartbeat tripped into double time. “About my mom?”

  “Yes. The hospital she checked into was Weathersfield Institute of Mental Health and her doctor was Dr. Cantella. That’s all I can give you. I think you know I’m giving you this as a friend, not as a professional. It could cost me dearly if word got out, so please don’t mention it to anyone.”

  “I won’t, Andrea. Thank you. This is a good first step for me. It means a lot that you believe me.”

  “Hope you find what you’re looking for, Xander.”

  Hearing her call him Xander twisted his insides. Her soft voice always had a lilt when she called him Alex in high school, but hearing her say Xander affirmed that his life wasn’t the same. He could control what people called him regardless of whether he could control their thoughts. And that was a start.

  But what was he looking for? Closure? Reassurance that his family approved of him and loved him? A chance at getting back the life he had before prison. Next would be finding out what Dr. Cantella would reveal. Every fiber in his being hoped he could charm information out of her.

  Chapter 8

  Grant excelled at planning perfect dates as if he had a manual on wining and dining, but Gia’s romantic enthusiasm didn’t subscribe to the e-match algorithms or Lucy’s desperate fantasy life that insisted Grant and Gia were meant to be together. He was the most perfect man in the world—for someone else. Their dates were entertaining but never had the explosive quality that made her crave more. Tonight was no different. They sat in downtown Denver on the rooftop patio grill known for pairing foods with the perfect dipping sauces—fondue with a twist.

  “So Mrs. Campbell came in first thing this morning smelling as if Joanna from Luscious Locks had set her hair on fire. With the straightest poker face I’ve ever seen, she said, ‘Mr. Harrington, my brakes are screeching like a pot-smoking hippie in a logging zone.’ Then she made the most horrible noise I’ve ever heard. Sounded like a tortured cat. I asked her how long it’d been happening and she said, ‘About fifteen minutes. I’d rather not die in a car that can scream louder than I can.’”

  Gia laughed. “You should put a hidden camera in your shop, blur out the customers’ faces, and send the videos to that famous comedy blog.”

  “I need my own reality TV show. We’ve got enough unscripted drama to keep America enthralled for an hour every week. And if your pretty face keeps showing up around the halls, the producers will be quick to sign the deal.” He winked at her, as the waiter placed their plates in front of them and disappeared to refill their drinks.

  Gia toyed with her fork and offered him a smile. “I think I’ll be hanging up my employment-finder hat for a while.”

  Grant’s brow furrowed. “Are you giving up on your latest project already?” He stilled her hand with his, brushing his fingertips along her fingers. His skin was surprisingly soft for a mechanic. “I haven’t heard back from any of the guys I usually ask. They seem to be fairly busy these days. I’m sorry I haven’t been more persistent.”

  She laughed and pulled her hand away from his touch under the guise of digging into her food. “It’ll cost you that second date I promised. I came up with a better solution for the person I’m helping. I’m really excited about it.”

  The silence dangled in the air like an unsecured cross beam. Grant edged forward in his seat with a speared piece of steak on his fork halfway to his mouth. “Should I beg you for the details?”

  “That’d be nice, yes.”

  Grant sucked in a huge breath and slapped a hand to his chest. “Will you please tell me your exciting news, lovely Gia? I can’t wait a moment longer.”

  “Your begging is pitiful.” She squinted at him. “The construction company I’m working with on the refugee project is being sued by an environmental group who’s asking for twelve percent of the building site waste to be recycled.”

  “Twelve percent seems extreme.”

  “It is, but this human project of mine has an eye for re-purposing things so he’s going to help out the construction company.” Well, she sure hoped he would.

  “How exactly would he re-purpose trash?”

  Gia tsked. “I can’t tell you the details until it’s all finalized, but it’s going to be really cool, if we can pull it off.”

  “I look forward to that.” Grant checked his watch. “Not to rush your dinner, but we need to leave in fifteen minutes if we’re going to make it to our next destination on time.”

  “Where’s that?”

  His lips turned up into a wicked smile. “I can’t tell you the details, but it’s going to be really cool, if I can pull it off.”

  Gia grunted. “Cheeky, aren’t you?”

  When she pushed her grits and shrimp a fraction of an inch away from her, Grant threw cash on the table and grabbed her hand to guide her from the restaurant at an awkward trot. Gia stifled her sigh as Grant closed the car door behind her. She loved surprises but being rushed to get to the surprise on time made her itch to call the whole date off and go home. She was trying to give Grant more of a chance, but right now she would rather be on her couch with a bowl of popcorn watching TV next to Xander.

  That wasn’t a good admission to make to herself or anyone else. Xander was a criminal. She shouldn’t like him more than she liked Golden’s Golden Boy, Grant.

  After ten minutes of silence, Grant stopped in front of the Denver Art Museum and handed his keys to the valet. He opened her door and took her hand as she stepped onto the sidewalk. The titanium-shingled building had pinnacles and edges all over, architecturally complex with sloping planes and angles. He tucked her hand into his elbow as they strode through the door. Tickets materialized from his jacket pocket seconds before they reached the attendee. It was all so precise, in true Grant fashion.

  In the lobby, the thunder of applause reverberated around them. At the top of a winding stone staircase, Grant ushered her to a seat next to a glass balcony railing overlooking an orchestra set up below. They’d slipped in just in time. The conductor lifted his arms to pump out a rhythm and the musicians jumped in on an invisible cue. As the music settled into Gia’s soul, her annoyance with Grant melted into disgruntled pleasure. For the moment, she didn’t mind that his arm rested around her shoulders.

  The evening disappeared to the musical poetry of Vivaldi, Debussy, Offenbach, Tchaikovsky, and Verdi. In college, instrumental music was all she listened to while she hunched over her computer drawing board—analyzing, measuring, structuring, bringing a project to life. The music portrayed beauty without the messiness of words interfering.

  When the applause died down after
the final song, Gia pried her eyes open. Grant leaned against the railing with a giant smirk on his handsome face. The fire that ignited in his gaze asked for permission to take what Gia wasn’t ready to give. She stepped into the aisle to join the throng that filed toward the stairs. A horde of people engulfed her as they shuffled along. The warmth of Grant was replaced by jostling bodies eager to make it to the ground floor.

  A hand pressed lightly into her lower back. Her muscles stiffened. Three years, five months, and a handful of days had passed since she’d allowed a man touch her lower back without a scolding.

  Bronc.

  Had he found her? He was resourceful. Regardless, she suppressed the urge to grab the hand and toss the offender to the other side of the packed staircase. Her picture and name had showed up in the paper. It couldn’t be coincidence. Surely, he’d be more obvious if he’d come for her after three years. Then again, he did enjoy the subtle power plays.

  No time to find out.

  Gia squeezed through a gap. The crowd was too much to handle right now. Everyone was too close together and walking too slowly. A hollowed ringing buzzed in her ear. She didn’t dare look back, not at a smirking Bronc or a bewildered Grant. With mumbled apologies, the crowd parted allowing her an easy escape route. When she made it to the ground floor, she sped-walked to the women’s restroom.

  No one said a word as she cut the long bathroom line. She only dared sneak a glance over her shoulder when she was standing in front of the mirrors. Massaging her temples, she moved into the corner and pressed her back against the cool tiles. Toilets flushed. Doors slammed. And she was hiding from someone who may or may not have even been in Denver.

  After three years of relative privacy, one article spotlighted her and threw her life into a panic. One unwanted touch to her back and she lost her mind. Bronc’s presence would be nothing short of catastrophic. She’d been blind to Bronc’s faults when they dated, but the truth of who he was had inspired her to pick up her whole life and run from New Orleans. If Bronc was in the lobby, she couldn’t wait him out. He could follow her to the car.

  Crowds had never stopped him from making a scene before, but she’d hate for poor Grant to get shoved in the middle of this. His soft hands would probably break at the mention of a fist fight, but he would defend her, right?

  “Migraine, honey?” A hand touched her shoulder.

  Gia lifted her gaze at the wrinkled face of sympathy in front of her. She blinked, searching for a response. “They hit at the worse times, don’t they?”

  The lady’s eyes widened as she nodded slowly. “I was a nurse for thirty years and I never once met a convenient one.” As the lady leaned in, the smell of cloves and peppermint assaulted Gia’s nose. She pressed two pills into Gia’s hand. “Take these bad boys and in five minutes you won’t feel a twinge for at least eight whole hours.”

  There was no doubt in her mind that the horse pills the lady had slipped her would make all her pain of any kind disappear and potentially her consciousness. “I appreciate your generosity.”

  The lady winked. “Oh, it’s no problem. I can get more. I know exactly what you’re going through. Swallow a good amount of water with those. Don’t want to choke to death if they get stuck. Now that would be ironic, wouldn’t it?”

  Gia had to laugh. She turned on the sink and pretended to toss the pills in the back of her throat, then drank some sink water.

  The lady patted her arm with a chuckle. “Feel better.”

  Gia waved and slipped into an open stall. Her phone buzzed.

  Grant texted. “Are you okay? Should I call EMS?”

  Her viable stalling time had run out. On any other date, she’d feel embarrassed for staying in the bathroom this long. Not tonight. After dropping the pills in the trash, she strolled out of the restroom. She couldn’t hide forever, especially from something she wasn’t even sure was there. Her quick scan of the lobby revealed no sign of Bronc which was good or really bad. Grant leaned against a pillar nearby absorbed in his phone.

  “Hey, ready to go?” Her voice pitched higher than she’d intended.

  Grant glanced up and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Are you all right? You bolted to the bathroom pretty quickly.”

  “Ready to go home.”

  He studied her for a few moments longer before grabbing her hand and tucking it under his arm again. The touch grated on her nerves instead of soothing her. On the car ride home, Grant turned on some soft jazz and glanced at her every few minutes from the side of his eyes.

  If she didn’t say something soon, he would. “How’d you know I would like a classical concert?”

  Grant huffed out a quiet laugh. “We’ve been on dates before, Gia. I pay attention.”

  She’d never shared her enjoyment of the fine arts with him. That was for her private moments of pure focus. “So were the last two and a half hours sheer torture for you?”

  With a big smirk, Grant winked at her. “Actually, watching you enjoy it was all the entertainment I needed.”

  Grant turned into her driveway.

  “Thank you for tonight. I had a lovely time.” Mostly.

  “Me too, Gia. Let’s do this again.” He turned off his car and got out as she did.

  No cars had followed them for the last mile to her house, yet she scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary. Maybe she should check in with Xander. The movement sensor lights on her house clicked on, illuminating the area like small suns as they walked up. She suppressed a laugh as Grant stumbled at the brightness.

  “Don’t think I’m going to let you forget about telling me about your new venture. I’m interested to see if your friend pulls off such a massive task.”

  “I think he’ll do really well with it. He’s really talented.” Gia stuck her key into the door and twisted around to say goodbye. Grant was inches from her face.

  Too close.

  Grant grabbed her head in his hands. His lips crashed into hers, throwing her off balance. Her hand slapped into the siding. He mistook her momentary balance as agreement and moved his hands to her thighs, pinning her arms to her side. Grant’s weight pressed her against the door. His fingers grabbed at the bottom of her dress pulling it upward. Panic roiled through her. She seized his fingers and twisted as she threw her bodyweight against him. Cracking mixed with his wobbling backward footsteps.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” She widened her stance, daring him to come at her again. Her breath came in spurts. “You think you can take me by force on my doorstep?”

  Grant shook out his fingers. Anger swept across his features followed by shame before he tucked his chin to his chest. “Gia, I’m so sorry. I—I got carried away. I’ve wanted to kiss you so badly all evening. Please forgive me.”

  His humility dumped a cup of ice water on her rage. Had she led him on? She didn’t mind a goodnight kiss, but he’d practically jumped her. These fun dates had gone on too long. That was obvious. All at once the exhaustion from the past few days slammed into her.

  Lawsuits, newspaper articles, Bronc.

  It was all too much.

  The exhale started from the depths of her soul at finally having a legitimate excuse to tell him no for future dates. “Go home, Grant. Thanks for the evening, but our dates are done.”

  He started apologizing again as Gia opened the door and then shut it firmly behind her. If that didn’t send a message, arming all the locks on her door did. From the kitchen the muffled slam of the car door was music to her ears. The headlights flashed in her front windows as he backed out of her driveway. With the way his fingers cracked, she wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of them were broken.

  Before she left the kitchen, Gia washed two smaller pain pills down with a glass of water in hopes she didn’t have to feel anything for the next eight hours. On her way to her bedroom, she stopped by her home office to turn up the sensitivity on the flood lamps and security cameras. Bronc was mean and smart. And with any luck, she’d catch him outside her home
instead of inside. The last time that she caught him standing over her bed, she swore she’d kill him if he ever tried that again.

  Gia liked to keep her promises.

  Chapter 9

  In the dark of his room, Xander gripped the window frame so tightly that he was milliseconds from dislodging it from the wall. The pressure behind his eyes hammered around his skull, the aftereffects of watching Grant manhandle Gia. When she’d shaken him loose, his head sagged against the glass with a quiet thunk. The car pulling into the driveway had drawn him to the open window and left him in a foul mood. Gia wasn’t Xander’s to claim, but she definitely wasn’t Grant’s victim either. Once again, she’d proved her ability to defend herself as she’d so aptly threatened Xander that first night.

  Dare he check on her now? Or address his eavesdropping in the morning? She was locked safely in her home for the night. Besides, he was a guest on her property, so the odds of his presence being considered helpful tonight were minimal. When the outside lights clicked off, the roaring in his head dampened to a soft thud and his muscles relaxed. After his stints in solitary, bright lights were too loud and did nothing to improve his anger. That was his new reality and he relished the dark of night. Problems seemed easier to deal with in the dark.

  *****

  A banging on his door startled him from his deep sleep. It was Sunday morning. He stumbled to the door, opening it in a haze. In the growing morning light, Gia paced the doorstep wearing brightly colored workout gear with her hands on her hips staring at her neon blue shoes. It was far too early to look that put together after such a late evening.

  Her gaze dragged from her shoes to his face. “You run, right, Xander?”