The Last Coffee Shop

Chapter 20: The Curse of Small Desires

A lot of responses raced through Mads' mind, but none of them were appropriate things to say in front of this man. Instead, she took a sip of tea. It was sweet and spicy, and it warmed her down to her toes. "I won't let Luc fight for me." She clenched the cup, hoping the Commodore couldn't see how her hands were trembling.

"It's my problem, my fight," she continued. "And I'm not some helpless kid like you all seem to think. I'm an adult, and I know my way around a boxing ring. Just set up a match, and I'll fight for myself. And if I die in there . . ." Mads met the Commodore's gaze, holding it and wishing she really could read minds. " I guess I just die," she finished with a shrug.

The Commodore studied Mads over the rim of his cup, his dark eyes sharp. "I suppose you told him you would do it?"

Mads nodded, scowling. "He dared to tell me no." She couldn't keep the outrage completely out of her voice. "Like it's his choice to make. So I came to you. They say you're the one who's actually in charge."

The Commodore's brows rose. "I think he's trying to be responsible. I think he made the offer because he thinks it's the right thing to do, not to insult you somehow. I don't know him all that well . . . but the Luc that wants to fight for you isn't the Luc I usually meet."

Mads' scowl deepened. She couldn't read anything but sincerity coming from the big man in front of her. He actually believed what he was telling her. "I didn't ask for that. My fight, my business. Now if only I could waste that Clubs creeper instead."

The Commodore laughed again. "You shouldn't say things like that in front of me, you know."

Mads jolted, almost spilling her tea, as she realized he was right. She had gotten far too comfortable. But still, whenever she looked at the powerful man, she couldn't feel any menace. Not aimed at her, anyway.

"Don't worry," he said, as if replying to her thought. "I'm not your enemy. But I do think you should watch your tongue. This is a cruel world and it takes more than strength to survive. You can't win just by being right. And are you sure you don't want Phelan to fight for you? Death is a big possibility, you know. You could get rid of him, for good."

Mads stared, feeling her eyes widen with shock. She tried to read the Commodore's expression, but it was bland and calm.

"I hate Luc," she said at last. "And I don't understand him. But I don't want him . . . to die." It was true. She didn't hate him because he'd kidnapped her, and she didn't want him dead. It was far more complicated than that. "I certainly don't want him dying for me. That's preposterous." She smiled at the Commodore. "He's just an arrogant jerk."

The Commodore's teeth flashed in a grin. "And you think getting yourself killed in the cages is better than putting aside your pride and letting him be an 'arrogant jerk'?"

Mads put down her cup and frowned at him. "I don't intend to die."

"I see." The Commodore rubbed his chin and stared into his tea. "I see . . . Okay. I'll let you fight. And I'll oversee the match myself, to make sure it's as fair as it can be. But if you die, your blood's on your own head."

Mads clenched her mug. "I won't die." And this isn't about him.

"Meet me here at the first bell, and we'll keep Phelan out of it."

Mads leaned back. "Thank you."

The Commodore raised a brow. "You won't thank me if you're dead."

Mads shrugged. "But I won't care either."

He smiled, but it was humorless. "Good point."

Mads drained the last bit of tea from her cup and rose. "Thank you for the tea, sir. And the conversation."