Lena

Hell hath no fury like a woman pushed beyond her limit. It's time to go full stalker mode. Everything that's happened today came about because of two people: Erin and Karson. But Karson can't fix it, and even though I'd willingly go three rounds with him in my current mood, doing so wouldn't help. No, I need to direct my righteous anger at Erin. The one who started it all.

First, I drive to the gym. Jase is already here, so I slip in unnoticed and gesture at Gabe, who's the only one to look up when I enter. He glances at Jase, then crosses to me in lazy strides that defy the intensity of his eyes. Gabe Mendoza is a strikingly handsome guy in that quiet, brooding way. He's bigger than Jase, and has a darker skin tone thanks to his Argentinian heritage. He also never seems to smile. Including now.

"Thanks for bailing him out," he says. "Seth was going to do it, but you beat him there. I guess he had a harder time coming up with the cash."

The bail wasn't a problem for me. My parents are filthy rich and while I don't ever touch their money because it comes with too many strings, my family name is a powerful tool when it comes to getting a loan. After all, lenders don't need to worry about a LaFontaine failing to pay them back.

"No problem." I step closer and lower my voice. "Can I talk to you privately for a moment?"

"Yeah." He rolls his massive shoulders. "Just let me towel off. I'll see you outside." He pauses, as though weighing his words, then adds, "Think it's for the best if Jase doesn't see you."

The statement hurts, but I know he's right so I backtrack and wait near the gym entrance. When Gabe emerges, he's wearing a hoodie, shorts, and nothing on his feet. The tops of his feet are tattooed and I can't help cringing at the thought of the pain he must have endured to get them.

"You've got a plan," he says, as though he already knows all about it.

Crossing my arms, I hold his gaze. "I guess they call you 'The Mind-Reader' for a reason."

He doesn't seem to get the joke. "I don't read minds. I'm just observant."

Gee, I never would have guessed that.

"What are you up to?" he asks.

I don't quaver in the face of his question, delivered with absolutely no emotion. Would it kill the guy to give me a hint of what's going on in his head?

"Erin," I say, getting straight to the point. "What's her story? Do you know what actually happened to her? Because someone hit her, and it wasn't Jase."

He mirrors my posture, folding his arms over his chest, and his biceps strain against the fabric. "Why do you want to know?"

I tap my foot, impatient. "Because I'm going to fix this, but I can't without all of the information."

Gabe nods, and I think I see a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes, but it disappears so quickly I could have imagined it. "Erin started dating someone else not long after they broke up. His name's Will Jones. Nasty S.O.B. Couldn't tell you for sure, but he's probably the one who hit her. All Jase did was give her a safe place to spend the night. She went psycho on him when he didn't want to get back in the saddle. That enough detail for you?"

My brain is firing at the speed of light. "This Will guy, is he another fighter?"

Gabe's lips twitch. "How'd you guess?"

"Erin has a type. MMA bad boy." I pat his arm. "Thanks, Gabe. Take care of him for me."

His eyes widen at the contact, and I wonder how long it's been since anyone touched him outside of training. Unlike other UFC stars, he's never in the tabloids with women, and Jase hasn't mentioned him having a girlfriend, either. I'll have to ask. After I convince the hardhead to give us a chance.

He nods, and shifts from foot to foot. "See you around."

"Bet your ass you will."

With a wave, I return to my car. I drive home and I search for Will Jones on my phone. For the next hour, I pore relentlessly over his social media, traveling back a few days until I find shots of him with Erin. In some, they look happy, but in others, there's fear and uncertainty in her expression. It's not immediately obvious, but for someone who knows where to look, the signs are there. She's scared of this guy, which means he's probably the guilty party. If she wasn't such a heinous bitch, I might feel sorry for her, but I can't quite find it in me when she's responsible for our current situation.

Digging a bit deeper, I come across a picture of the couple timestamped with the date she alleges Jase hit her. I download a copy to my phone, then make a call to my contact Serene at the district attorney's office. A promise of tickets to an upcoming Las Vegas Thunder hockey game is all it takes to convince Serene to peek into Will Jones's police history. A few minutes later, she informs me that officers have been called to Jones's house several times following complaints from the neighbors about domestic disturbances. Each time the police arrived, and the women they encountered refused to speak with them.

Things are beginning to make sense. Erin must have been stupid enough to hook up with Will, and when he hit her, she went to the press. But why did she lay the blame at Jase's feet? Was it because she was truly misguided enough to think she could blackmail him into getting back together with her? Or perhaps she was simply too scared of Will to say a word against him. If it's the former, I can't blame her for wanting Jase back. He's caring and thoughtful and hot. He's also about to be a big name in MMA if he wins the championship fight. But what exactly is it that's driving Erin? Unrequited love? Money? A thirst for fame?

Several hours and a lot of favors later, I have the answer. Erin has credit card debt. A lot of it. Apparently her job at the salon doesn't pay enough to cover her lifestyle. Her rent is due, her cards are maxed out, and her utilities are soon to be shut off. She's in trouble.

And I have the leverage I've been looking for.

The bitch is going down.