AINSLEY

"Alright, I'm back, with minutes to spare. You done being pissy?"

I turned around, unsurprised to find Lloyd leaning against the bar right behind me. He'd snuck up on me, probably hoping to spook me—the guy was scary silent, and took a lot of pleasure in sneaking around. He never managed to startle me as much as he wanted to, though. He might've been quiet, but I heard everything.

"No," I replied curtly, but my blooming smile ruined it.

Lloyd smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, what did you need me so urgently for?"

I shrugged. "Nothing. I was just fucking with you."

He sighed loudly, but didn't seem too upset by that. "Figures."

I shot him a look. "What? Were you enjoying having your ass handed to you?"

"Not particularly." He snorted. "Fine, I'm not too upset you pulled me outta there. Hart was about five seconds away from stomping my face in."

I doubted kicking a man when he was down was Tristan's style, but didn't comment on that. Just like I never commented on Tristan.

Even though I didn't say anything, Lloyd wasn't dumb. He must've caught the look on my face.

"So? Are you still playing hard to get?"

"Hard to get?" I frowned at Lloyd.

I wasn't playing anything because I didn't have time for games—or for relationships, for that matter. And that was why I avoided Tristan Hart like the plague. I barely knew the guy, but I'd seen enough to know that he was the real deal. The kind of guy that once you were in, you couldn't just walk away from. And I couldn't put myself in that type of situation. Toby and I needed to be ready to pick up and leave at a moment notice; there was no room for connection of any kind.

He held up his hands defensively, reminding me of the stance he'd taken in the ring with Tristan. "Sorry. Don't get all butt-hurt. I was just fucking with you, too."

I relaxed. I deserved that. Lloyd might've worked for Toby and me, but he was the closest thing to a friend that I had. And we'd spent the past four years relentlessly messing with each other. It was a game we played hard and a game we played well.

"Maybe you're not playing with him," Lloyd went on when she didn't say anything. "But he's certainly interested in going a few rounds with you."

"Oh?" I forced the burst of excitement down. "Well, hopefully he gets used to playing with himself."

Lloyd sputtered, my comment taking him by surprise.

I couldn't help but smile. "That was good, right?"

"You usually are." He was still laughing quietly when he peeled himself away from the bar. "Alright, I'm going to start setting up tables. You wouldn't, by chance, be interested in helping me, would you?"

"No chance of that," I said, picking up a dish rag so I could wipe down the perpetually sticky counter.

"Figures. Let me do all the grunt work." He rolled his eyes at me as he hopped over the bar.

I tossed the rag at him, catching him square in the face. "I hate to be the one to tell you, Lloyd, but you are the grunt."

"That's low," he said, but he was smiling as he threw the towel back.

I caught it in the air and dropped it onto the counter.

"I've got some paperwork to fill out. I'll be in Toby's office if anyone needs me," I said as he started pulling the tables out from against the walls.

He didn't reply, but waved to let me know he'd heard me. I paused in the doorway, watching him grab a stack of chairs, before I let myself into the hallway.

Lloyd was better company than most of the guys that hung out around the Man, and although that didn't mean much, because there weren't that many great men around, Lloyd was a good man. Despite all the crap I talked about him.

And that's why it royally sucked that I couldn't form as much of a connection with him as I wanted to. It sucked I couldn't connect to anyone, really. Good guys like Lloyd...like Tristan...

I shook that thought from my head. He was a good guy; Toby talked highly of him, and that meant a lot, since Toby didn't talk much about any of the fighters. But that didn't mean much in my world. Being a good guy didn't get you anywhere where Toby and I came from, except maybe the bottom of the ocean.

And there was no chance in hell I'd let anyone get close to me and end up hurt. Especially guys like Lloyd and Tristan. They deserved to be protected from my mess of a life, even if they didn't quite understand why I did it.

Still deep in thought, I found my brother in his office, pouring over a stack of papers on his desk.

He didn't look up as I entered. "How's it going out there?"

"Fine," I said, plopping down in the chair opposite of his desk.

Normally, it was where I'd sit to do my share of paperwork. Sometimes it doubled as the hot seat for fighters that were in trouble. It was endlessly amusing to see giant, muscular, tattooed bad-asses sitting here, cowed before my brother, like they were twelve years old and being called into the principal's office.

He flicked his gaze up for a moment before refocusing on his papers. "Is Dwayne here yet? He promised to spar with Tristan."

I leaned back in the chair. "I didn't see him anywhere."

"Did you see Tristan?"

I hesitated just long enough in my answer to catch Toby's full attention.

He dropped the paperwork on his desk. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. When he continued to stare, I sighed. "Really, it's nothing. Lloyd and Tristan were playing around in the ring and I was watching and I noticed..." I trailed off, unsure if I should go there.

My brother frowned. "What?"

"I know I'm not a fighter or a trainer—"

"—you know more about fighting than anyone in this damn building, Ainsley," Toby cut me off with a growl.

"—but," I continued, ignoring his interruption, "Tristan seems to be favoring his left side. I don't know if he was just going easy on Lloyd and trying to hold back, but he kept his left hand close to his body and almost seemed to be protecting it."

Toby considered this, letting my words mull in his head as he sat there, silent. A man of few words, that one. I knew I was almost as bad as he was, though, so I didn't have any room to poke at him.

"I'll talk to him," Toby finally said. "Thanks for keeping an eye out for him."

I shrugged. "It's what I do."

That was true enough. To most people, the only thing I did in the Man was run the bar and keep the alcohol flowing. But Toby and I both knew differently. I kept my eyes on all the guys—I assessed their weaknesses, their strengths, kept a running tally of all their vices and possible problems that could rear their heads in the future and I reported everything back to my brother. It wasn't exactly an official job, or a fun one, but I knew I'd do it whether or not Toby wanted my input; I'd always had sharp ears, and even sharper eyes.

"Would you do me a favor and track down Dwayne before you start on paperwork?" Toby asked. "I really need Tristan to get a work out in before five."

"Sure." I hopped out of the chair. I didn't mind playing gopher sometimes—especially since the bar paperwork wasn't exactly pressing.

I stopped in the doorway though, hesitating for reasons I couldn't explain. I turned back to my brother and cleared my throat to get his attention.

He finally looked at me, his expression creased.

"Tristan—he's...what's his life like?"

"His life?" Toby echoed.

"Yeah, like outside of here. What's it like for him?"

Toby tilted his head. "He's had a tough life, Ainsley, like most people who find themselves in the ring. But he's tough."

"I know." I shifted on my feet, not sure where I was going with this. "It doesn't matter. Sorry. I'm just curious, I guess."

"Curious." I couldn't figure out what the look on Toby's face was.

"Don't worry about it." I waved my hand at him. "It isn't a big deal. Just...a general curiosity. You know me. I like to know everything."

"You sure do." This time, I knew the look on my brother's face well. He was suppressing a grin.

"Jerk," I said, marching out of the office and slamming the door shut behind me. I heard his laugh even through the shut door.