Free Kissing the Canvas (Fighting For Love Book 3) by Evelyn Glass

into Adriana’s couch, wishing that he could turn back time, back to when everything wasn’t so messed up.
     
    “If there’s one thing that Morrison cares about it’s himself.” West lets the rest of his thought dangle in the air.
     
    “We get hold of him at the fight.” Grayson nods as West’s plan starts to take shape in his mind. “We take hold of him and make sure that he realizes that his life is in my hands…and if anything happens to Adriana, things aren’t going to end well for him.” His voice is grim with certainty. He had killed a man in the ring ten years ago by accident, but this is the first time he was actually prepared to kill someone. There’s no doubt in his mind that if Morrison has hurt Adriana—he doesn’t allow himself to think or worse—Grayson will squeeze the life out of him, without a second thought and without losing any sleep over it.
     
    “Careful, Grayson. It’s a slippery slope.” The warning in West’s voice is loud and clear. He’s worked with Grayson for years, trying to get him out of the mental hole that he’d put himself after that first fight. He doesn’t want to see him go back down that road. “Now try to get some sleep before the fight tonight; you’re going to need it.” West pauses before he hangs up, not wanting to ask the question that he knows he has to. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
     
    “I’m going to do whatever gets Adriana back to me in one piece, West. Whatever that is…that’s what I’m going to do.” Grayson ends the call, bowing his head and wishing for the hundredth time that he had driven Adriana home that morning instead of putting her in a taxi. If he had been there, then none of this would have happened.
     
    He’s so wired he doesn’t feel like sleeping, regardless of how tired he is. It almost seems wrong to sleep, knowing that Adriana is out there somewhere, frightened and alone. It feels selfish. However, his body doesn’t understand that. All his body understands is that he feels like he’s been through the wringer over the past few days. He’s exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally—the holy trinity. He lets his head drop back onto the couch and closes his eyes, letting his body drift away, hoping that he’ll dream, and knowing that’s where he’ll see Adriana.
     
    He’s woken by a buzzing, like an irate mosquito. He blinks a few times, looking around him, remembering where he is. The buzzing stops and then all of a sudden it starts again. He’s completely disoriented, but the flashing screen of his cell brings him back to the present. It’s a number that he doesn’t recognize, probably another one of Morrison’s burner phones. He goes to answer it and then thinks better of it.
     
    It’s as if those few hours of sleep have given him the clarity he’d been lacking since Adriana disappeared. Let him wait, he thinks, as the call ends and his screen goes dark. Grayson has let Morrison lead him around the garden path, letting him threaten and blackmail him for years. This is his one shot at getting Adriana back, and he needs to regain some control. Tommy had called him Morrison’s puppet, but he refuses to be that guy anymore. It is high time that Grayson puts him on the back foot and pushes his buttons for a change. It is the only way he is going to get Adriana back. Now, he knows exactly what he needs to do. He has to play Morrison just like Morrison has been playing him.
     
    He resists the urge to answer the phone as soon as it starts vibrating against the soft leather couch again. He counts slowly to five and then picks up, hoping that his acting skills are up to scratch. He’s not a born manipulator like Morrison, so he just has to do the best he can.
     
    “Grayson.” He answers the phone, yawning, as if he could care less who’s on the other end of the line.
     
    “Sorry, did I interrupt your afternoon nap?” Morrison’s amused tone is only half-concealing his anger