The Detective and Her Bachelor

Chapter 25

I was never left surprised. When you learned to read people, the world stopped surprising you. People were still interesting, and motivations still had to be analyzed, but overall, the challenge was finding the right box for each person.

I used the "box formula" when tackling the struggles of the human mind to learn where someone belonged in a story of lies. It was a math equation made up of emotional motivation and internal strength of deception to determine how much of a threat someone could be.

You just had to determine how much someone hurt others, and how much they allowed others to hurt them back. The answer was in the details of the trail of pain they left behind— in the margins of someone's life, where they bared their own mistakes— much like someone struggling through a math problem on a piece of scrap paper.

With so much analyzing used to determine who someone was, I was never left surprised— until Andrew Walker moved, forearm blocking my first punch in the fighting ring, never breaking eye contact with me— then I remembered that feeling, unable to stop my eyes from going wide, uttrly surprised.

His sharp greenish-blue eyes, glistened with an unspoken challenge, leaving us both in a moment of suspended animation. Frozen for a single heartbeat as the air crackled, changing something vital. Revealing truths that would have otherwise remained dormant.

Ace suddenly had a box. He was deadly. Hidden under layers of suits and charming smiles. The pause passed, and he moved again, fist racing forward, forcing me to slide to the side, narrowly avoiding his strike.

I couldn't help but smile at the challenge. An opponent I wouldn't have to be careful with. Swinging, I brought up my foot and aimed for the side of his head. Ace blocked again and pushed my foot to the side, throwing me off balance.

I allowed gravity to pull me down before tucking and rolling backwards, fighting my own surprise at his speed, refusing to show that his level of competence was not what I had expected. He had already left me shocked for a moment longer than he should have.

Bouncing to my feet, I had just enough time to bring up my arms and block before his first fist came into contact with my block, his other fist moving for my ribcage. In the split second before he could land a blow, he had left himself open, both arms away from his body, leaving me with a clear shot at his chest.

I itched to strike, but ignored the easy shot and I jumped to the side, causing Andrew to stumble forward, hitting air where I used to be. I registered the surprise on his face, relishing in the hint of irritation in his eyes. He had left himself open on purpose. He was baiting me.

Good. Underestimate me.

I swung, kicking him square in the back. But my victory was short-lived when Andrew turned as he fell, grabbing my leg and pulling me down with him. We hit the mat in a mess of limbs, rolling, each trying to gain the upper hand until we reached the far end of the ring.

Andrew began to slip over the side of the ring's edge, and in a moment that lacked all self preservation, I yanked us to a stop before he could fly off the side onto the concrete below, getting myself pinned below Andrew.

Before I could raise my fist to knock him off, he pinned my hands on either side of my head, trapping me in place.

Adrenaline roared through my veins, my heartbeat forming its own steady fight soundtrack that demanded retribution.

Andrew stared down at me, black hair falling into his face, caging his dark gaze, heavy breathing mixing with mine. I didn't want to be looked at, I wanted to fight. To pummel, to strike, to do anything other than look and be looked at so openly in such a close proximity.