When Perfect Meets Crazy novel Chapter 21

“You’re unusually aggressive today.” He panted, retreating under the force of my blows.

“I’m feeling aggressive today,” I ground out, catching him in the side with perfectly aimed kick.

He stumbled backwards, clutching his side even as a smile spread across his face.

“You’re also unusually careless today,” he pointed out.

To illustrate his point, he dropped into a crouch and swept my feet out from under me in one smooth calculated move. I fell with an audible thud, air escaping my lungs in one swift whoosh.

“Ahh.” I grimaced, rolling onto my side, waiting for the pain to subside.

I filled up my lungs with a deep breath and braced myself for the pain that would come with getting up.

“What’s wrong?” Parker asked, offering me a hand up.

“Nothing.” I slapped the hand away, forced myself to my feet and fell into position. “Let’s go again.”

He blinked, one part surprise and two parts amusement blossoming on his face. “Really?”

I responded with three quick consecutive blows. All of which, infuriatingly enough, he managed to dodge.

“Something is definitely up.” He grinned, dancing just out of my reach. How I had never noticed how annoying he could be was beyond me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this keyed up.”

“Well, enjoy your front row ticket.” I hissed, launching myself at him.

How infuriating. I was on the mat again in less than two minutes.

“You’re being sloppy,” he stated, helping me to my feet.

I gritted my teeth.

“And for the love of God, your footwork is better than that. Stop giving yourself away and stage your attacks better,” he added, falling to sparring stance again.

“I did not come for a sparring lesson. I came to vent so thank you, but kindly lay off the advice,” I snapped, baring my teeth in a snarl.

As soon as the words were out, as soon as my brain properly processed what I said, I gasped, slapping a boxing gloved hand across my face.

“Dammit.” I raised my face skyward, roughly brushing away the tendrils that had escaped my bun as I drew in a deep centering breath. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

“Hey,” he said, lips curing upwards in a smile. “I’m not offended. Chill out.”

I looked at him. Really looked at him. At his short blond hair, his electric blue eyes, his pretty boy jaw and the fond, open smile on his lips. There wasn’t a single hint of malice on him. I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled back, the tension in my shoulders easing just a little.

“Clearly, I’m not having a good day so tell me, what’s been going on with you?” I asked.

“The downtown robbery cases have the whole station on edge but the mood has improved a little recently.”

“Big bust?”

“Yeah, members of an illegal gambling circuit. Apparently, they bet on unsanctioned boxing matches but, other than that, it’s been pretty quiet at the station,” he answered. “Want to go again? Maybe tell me what’s bothering you while we’re at it?”

My brain completely stopped processing his words after ‘they bet on unsanctioned boxing matches.’ A sudden chill took hold of me.

“Unsanctioned boxing matches?” My voice sounded hollow and far away, even to my ears.

I prayed he wouldn’t notice.

“Hmmm.” He nodded and gestured for me to come at him.

I swallowed, frozen in place.

“Boxing matches?” I stupidly repeated. “Like illegal boxing?”

“Yes,” he answered, cocking his head to the side as he regarded me curiously. “What?”

I blinked.

“Nothing.” I stiffly fell into position, pasting a smile on my lips even as my imagination mentally ran away with my common sense.

Masked Idiot. It had been over a week now since I last saw him. He just disappeared. Him and the creepy gaze I always felt following me on the days he wasn’t physically within my sights. I had assumed it was because he finally got the message; that I wasn’t some spy. He definitely could’ve informed me of the revelation before wilfully disappearing but what if he wasn’t gone because he believed me? What if it was because he got caught? Because he was in jail? What if that was why he had been MIA?

I swallowed.

For some reason, the idea offered very little comfort or relief. I, oddly, was more comforted that he hadn’t stayed away of his volition than I was by the fact that his incarceration would mean he was no longer a problem for me.

I needed a good blow to the head. Clearly some screws up there weren’t properly keyed in.

“That’s crazy,” I said as casually as I could manage. “How old were they?”