Chapter 8

Quentin

"What are you doing here?" Knox spins a chair around and straddles it. Whether on purpose or by chance, he makes sure to keep his face in shadow.

"Last I checked, this was a weekly poker game where all Davenports are invited." It's not my first choice of where I want to be. But when not even work can distract me from thoughts of her, I decided to accept Arthur's invitation to join the poker game.

"Thought you'd be at your woman's place."

"Woman?" Sinclair Sterling, a business associate turned friend whose home I've been to for dinner many times, looks between us. "You have a woman?"

"Or should I say, girl?" Knox twists his lips. Which causes the scars on his features to bunch. Combined with his larger-than-average height and a physique honed by his military stint, as well as his regular workouts, I wouldn't like to meet him in a fight. He"s one scary-looking motherfucker. No wonder he likes to keep his features hidden as much as possible.

"Girl?" Sinclair frowns. "What am I not getting here?"

"What Knox is trying to point out is that she's younger than me."

"More than two decades younger." He smirks. "And she's his son's ex," he adds.

I expect Sinclair to do a double-take, but instead, he appears thoughtful. "She's you son's ex?"

"He stood her up at the altar."

Sinclair whistles. "I assume that means your son is no longer interested in her?"

"About that—" I shuffle my feet. "He apologized to her, and it didn't look like she wanted anything to do with him, but it means?—"

"It means, it's a bloody shit-show," Knox drawls.

"Why her?" Sinclair looks at me with curiosity.

"Why not her?" I growl.

When he stays silent, I sigh, then loosen the tie around my neck. My mind"s not in the right place… And is not going to be until I convince her we belong together. It's less than twenty-four hours since I met her and there hasn't been a minute when I haven't thought about her. I rub the back of my neck. I need her in my life.

"Quentin?"

I glance at Sinclair. "Have you ever looked at someone and realized exactly what was missing in your life? Have you seen her and known you'd do anything to be with her? To have her in your life… by any means necessary?"

Sinclair seems taken aback, then his features soften. "Like that, eh?"

Knox chortles. "No idea what you two are talking about but take it from someone who's never felt that way and who never plans to feel that way, it seems like a load of crap."

Sinclair smirks "Don't say that too loudly. Fate has a way of creeping up on you and pushing you to do things you swore you"d never do. "

"Not gonna happen." Knox grabs a cigar from the humidor and offers it to me. When I refuse, he shrugs, passes one to Sinclair. Then he takes one for himself, snips off the head and lights up.

Sinclair and I exchange looks. "The more confident they are, the harder they fall," he murmurs.

"What-fucking-ever. Meanwhile, I'm happy to follow along with the drama, also known as your life." He nods in my direction.

"The drama is a distraction. Nothing can change the fact that she's mine."

Sinclair puffs on his cigar. "Does she know it? More to the point, does she accept it?"

"She will."

"And your son?"

I shake my head. "When Felix's mother left, I knew it was my fault. I couldn't stop her, but I told myself I'd make it up to my son. Each time I left on a tour of duty when he was a child, that was my intention, but I never made it back for more than a few days at a time." I look down at my hands. "I assuaged my conscience by making sure my aunt was there as his caregiver, so he never lacked for the necessities. He got the best education money could buy. When I couldn't make it to his graduation ceremony because I was leading another mission, I sent enough money to cover the celebrations for him and his friends. I told myself I'd compensate the time I didn't spend with him, but… I never did."

"And now?" Sinclair holds the cigar in between his fingers. The ash builds before I speak.

"Now? I've hurt him in a way I'm not sure our relationship will recover from. It hurts, and I know it's wrong, and yet"—I lower my chin— "I'm compelled to push through with my decision to marry her. I"ve made a lot of mistakes in life, but when I met her… It feels like I"ve been given a second chance. And this time, I'm not making promises I can't keep. Not to him; not to her, not to myself. This time, I'm going to reorient my life so that I can keep my word to the people who matter most to me."

Sinclair looks like he's about to speak, when Ryot, my other nephew, stalks in. He spots me and hatred spreads across his features. He spins around and is about to leave, but I jump up. "Stop!"

I head after him, shoot out an arm to grab his shoulder, but he turns, knocks it aside, and throws up a fist. I feel the breeze whistle past me, not because I ducked, but because he stops mere millimeters from connecting with my face. He clenches his jaw, muscles pinging at his cheekbones. His eyes dart anger at me. And it's justified. What happened isn"t exactly my fault, but he holds me responsible.

"I understand now," I offer.

He frowns.

"I understand how it is to lose the woman you think is your soulmate."

His gaze widens. The anger fades, and in its place is regret and sadness, and a tortured wistfulness that tells me how much he misses her. How much he yearns for her. How much his life is not worth living anymore, now that she's no longer in it.

Twenty-four hours ago, I wouldn't have understood the full extent of his agony. But having met my ‘one', having felt that instinctive connection with her I know won't come with anyone else, I have a better understanding of why Ryot is so livid. If I were in his shoes… I'd be… Heartbroken and want revenge. I'd want to find a way to take out my anger on the person I thought was responsible for her death. I'd be maddened with grief and pain. I'd need an outlet. One I could provide. I allow my lips to twist.

"A fight," I offer.

The fold between his eyebrows deepens.

"You and me, in the ring?" I incline my head.

Ryot glares at me, then turns to Knox. Something unsaid passes between the brothers.

Knox stiffens. He seems like he"s about to say something, then nods in his brother's direction. "Can you give us a second?" Without waiting for his reply, he pulls me out of earshot. "Have you lost your fucking mind? Not only are you not going to be able to defeat him, but he's going to pulverize you."

"I'm aware"

"Are you?" Knox regards me with skepticism. "He's fast and he's built like a tank. He's got at least twenty pounds on you, most of it muscle. You realize, he won the Royal Marine's flagship boxing tournament three years running? If he hadn't joined the Marines, he might well have competed professionally. You, on the other hand?—"

"—fought in the finals and won the title one year, but never made it past the semis again," I state.

Knox looks at me closely. "You realize, you can't win? In fact, you're setting yourself up to be injured."

"Good," I say under my breath.

"The fuck?" He scowls. "What are you up to, old man?"

"The fuck does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't. In fact, it"s better for me if you're out of commission. It sends a message to Arthur that I'm more reliable than you when it comes to taking on a position of responsibility in the company. But it seems, not even I can stand by and allow another man to plan his own funeral. Apparently, I have a sliver of conscience left that insists I point out the inevitable injuries that will follow this offer."

When I stay silent, his gaze narrows. "Unless…" He snaps his fingers. "That"s your plan… To have him beat you up? You want to give him a chance to get some of his antagonism out of his system?"

I bark out a laugh. "You think?"

He nods slowly. "You'll never be able to make up for your actions that got his wife killed. Apologizing for it can never be enough. But you can offer him the chance to beat you, fair and square. A symbolic defeat in a fight which might go some way toward helping him find some resolution…"

"It's the least I can do." I raise a shoulder. "I always thought of what happened to her as collateral damage. I made the choice to prioritize the lives of thousands over that of a few. It's the way of war. But it doesn't lessen the personal impact of my actions. She died because of the decision I made. I have to live with that on my conscience. And he must live with a broken heart." I look past Knox's shoulder to where Ryot stands. His shoulders are tense, his fingers curled into fists at his side. His gaze is locked on the two of us.

"Does this have something to with the woman you proposed to?"

I jerk my attention back to Knox's face. "What do you mean?"

"You're competing for the love of someone decades younger than you. Perhaps you want to prove a point to her, and to yourself, that you still have the mojo?"

"Don't be stupid. I don't need to prove a point..." my voice trails off. Or maybe I do?

Knox nods knowingly.

I rub the back of my neck. "Perhaps you're right. But that's not the only reason to take on this fight."

"Pray, explain that to me, Einstein." Knox smirks.

"It was my actions which indirectly caused Ryot's wife to be killed in action. It's why he's angry with me. I've tried to speak with him about this, but he refuses to engage in conversation. If this is the only way to communicate with him then I'll take it." If this is the only way to get some kind of redemption, then I'll take that, too. I deserve to be beaten up by Ryot for the grief my actions caused him. "It'll force a conversation, at the very least."

"There are better ways to build bridges with Ryot."

"But none that will give him a chance to get some of the frustration out of his system."

Knox begins to speak, but I brush past him and toward Ryot.

"You're going to lose," Ryot's voice is gravelly from un-use. Since his wife's death, he's retreated into himself. He's taken to speaking only when absolutely necessary. I'm responsible for that. My heart seizes up. My stomach pitches like I've been caught in an automobile pile up.

"Ryot." I curl my fingers into fists at my sides. "I'm so fucking sorry for what you went through."

"Yet, you maintain that you wouldn't take back your order for anything?" he snaps.

"I had to make a split-second decision between saving a few lives and saving those of thousands. You'd have done the same if you were in my position."

"Don't compare yourself to me. We are nothing alike." His gaze turns venomous.

"Fucking hell!" I grab the back of my neck and squeeze. "It's why we need this fight. You need to take out your grievance against me?—"

"I'll kill you." There's a note of finality in his tone, which sends a chill down my spine.

"Probably,"—I set my jaw—"but I'm willing to take that chance if it helps clear the air between us."

He scoffs.

"You're right, probably unlikely, but I have to try." I take a step forward, he growls. But for the first time since his wife died, a gleam comes into his eyes. Some of that despair in his gaze fades.

He looks me up and down. "You're old."

"That your excuse?" I taunt him, not because I want to sharpen his pain, but because I need him to fight me.

He bares his teeth. "It's your funeral, asshole. Pick a date and time."

"How about tomorrow night?"