by E. M. Moore
“Don’t I know it,” I grumble, squeezing him back. “I’m glad to be here.”
He pulls away, grinning at my arm. “Looks like you have better use of the hand. I was worried since the last time we met you could barely open a window.”
I stretch my fingers out, flexing my wrist. “It’s healing nicely. The doctor said that since I was a boxer, it might heal up faster than others would, and I think he’s right. Mag hung a huge punching bag in my place, and I’ve been hitting it when I can.”
“When you aren’t in danger of dying, you mean.”
“Yeah, then,” I say, playfully punching him in the shoulder.
He chuckles, then looks behind us. “No boss man today?”
“Who? Johnny? Nah, he has business shit.”
Finn throws his arm around my shoulders and walks me toward the middle of the gym. Brawler is already hitting a speed bag in the corner, looking like he’s going to murder it, and Oscar isn’t here yet.
“What’s Brawler’s problem?” Finn asks, tilting his chin his way. “He’s been like that since he got here.”
“He didn’t tell you?”
Finn eyes me suspiciously. “No, what?”
I laugh with no humor. “Just you wait.”
Out of the back, Jax walks toward us, wrapping his hands with bright green wrap at the same time. He puts the end in his mouth as he tapes it up then bites the remainder off. When he gets to us, he places his hands on his hips.
“Is this okay?” I ask, looking solely at Jax. He’s always been the one who’s unsure about this arrangement, and he certainly wasn’t a fan of coming to see me at the PT place a couple of weeks ago.
“We’re good,” he says.
The bell above the door rings, and I stiffen. “What’s up, Princess?”
Oscar comes up on my other side, poking me with his elbow. “Same old stuff,” I tell him, having to shut my mouth before I drool. He’s wearing a tank top with overly large armholes. His tanned football chest muscles peek through the sides. He’s paired it with black athletic shorts that stop at his knees, showing off amazing calves.
“Just people trying to take you and kill you? That kind of thing?”
“You know it.”
“And spy on her,” Mag says, bringing the conversation around to Detective Reynolds and completely ruining the light mood.
“What?” Oscar snaps. The good humor that was on his face just evaporates.
“Let me get Brawler,” Mag says. He calls him over, having to yell his name several times before he catches his attention.
He lumbers over to us, and the strain in his body and face is apparent. I couldn’t comfort him enough yesterday. I couldn’t tell him everything was going to be okay as much as he needed. I hate that I couldn’t do that, and guilt lays over me.
“I have a feeling I’m about to eat my words,” Jax complains, looking between all of us. Lines form between his brows.
“Knock it off,” Finn chastises, pulling his shoulder-length hair around his ears. “They’re our friends.”
Brawler finally reaches us. “What’s up?”
I can’t keep my gaze off him. I want to go to him—hug him—but I can’t do any of that right now. Not with Jax and Finn here, and certainly not with Detective Reynolds spying on me. For all I know, he could be ogling us right now.
Mag launches into a spiel about what we witnessed on the car ride here, explaining why it’s a big deal though I think anyone with half a brain could figure it out. Everyone listens intently, Oscar cursing when he learns the news.
“So, you want to take back that invitation now?” I ask Jax. “I won’t be offended.”
“I’ll be offended,” Finn says, speaking up for me. “Nothing’s changed. The cops are trying to threaten you, and that doesn’t fly with us, does it, Jax?” His brother doesn’t respond, but Finn keeps going anyway. “We’ll continue like usual, only be more careful.” I admire his easygoing nature, and the lengths he’ll go to help me. He gives me a wicked grin. “Now, let’s hear it. Who are you fighting next?”
I lock gazes with Brawler, my tongue darting out to lick my lips. “Him.”
“Him?” Hesitantly, Jax and Finn follow my gaze, but return back to me. “Him, who?” Jax asks, gaze narrowed.
I shrug. “They’re putting me up against Brawler on Friday, and needless to say, both of us have to win for different reasons. We need a plan.”
Finn’s brows shoot up just shy of his hairline as he gawks between the both of us.
“A plan?” Jax asks, scoffing. “Two people can’t win the same fight. If that’s the case, you need a goddamn miracle.”
Yeah, that would help too. I wouldn’t turn one of those away, but I already know God doesn’t listen to me.
21
Brawler sits out during training. Hugging the sidelines like a spectator. Well, I guess what we’re doing is called training even though it isn’t hardcore training. I take it easy for the day, only hitting the pads with fifty percent force to make sure I don’t injure my hand. In between rounds, Jax insists on massaging my wrists and lower arms, his tattooed fingers working over my skin in sure movements.
We both sit on the bench just outside the ring as Oscar decides he’s going to get in with Finn and try to go toe-to-toe with him. It’s not that Oscar isn’t badass. He one hundred percent is. He just doesn’t have the training Finn has. Though, he does have the power, strength, and force necessary to be good, along with that straight-up brutality instinct he learned from growing up in the Heights. I watch the show as tension pours off Jax while he works his fingers over me. He doesn’t care for me very much. Well, maybe it’s not even that, but he definitely doesn’t like the affiliation I have with the Crew.
He shouldn’t like it, and I don’t blame him one bit.
I glance down, watching his hands. I have my arm lying lazily over my knee while he works, and since I’m this close, and his hands aren’t flying through the air at my face, I can finally see what’s tattooed on his knuckles over one hand. FREE.
“What’s that about?” I ask, nodding toward his tat.
He stiffens and turns his hands to the sides to hide his tattoos. “You ever heard of the expression nunya?”
My forehead crinkles. “Um, no...”
“Nunya business, Princess.”
I glare at his hard features. I guess that’s what I get for trying to be conversational.
Jax drops my hand and sighs heavily. He leans his elbows on his thighs, dropping his hands between his knees. “Both of you can’t win the fight,” he says, changing topics.
“Obviously,” I snap back.
“Why do you both have to win?”
I shake my head. “Once, a very sarcastic, very miserable fighter told me a saying...” I smile in his face. “Nunya.”
His gaze sparks like he’s going to rage at me. Instead, the corners of his lips turn up into a slight smile. Hardly noticeable. In fact, I don’t know if it can even be called a smile at all. Maybe a cross between a grimace, a sneer, and a reluctant compliment. He purses his lips. “Let’s just say at one point in my life I wasn’t free. When I got free, I decided to tattoo it on my knuckles to remind me to fight for my freedom every damn chance I got.”
Goosebumps skitter up my spine. The sentiment is one I know all too well. I don’t know how or what happened to make Jax feel trapped. There are so many ways you can feel that way, and freedom is always the better option. It’s something to fight for.
That’s why I’m here.
I mirror his position, leaning over with my elbows on my knees. A drop of sweat rolls down my spine. He told me a truth, so now it’s my turn. “I won’t go too much into it because I know you don’t want to get involved in Heights Crew business, which I think is extremely smart and important that you don’t get mixed up in it, by the way,” I tell him, locking gazes. “But I need to win the fight so shit doesn’t go downhill for me. Brawler needs to win it for the same reason.” I glance over a
t Brawler while he sits in the corner by himself. He has his feet pulled up in front of him on the wide bench, his arms wrapped tightly around them. The hood of his sweatshirt is up, hiding his face. He’s been sitting there with his back against the wall ever since we broke off to start training.
“Or else?”
“Or else we’re fucked.”
Since Brawler’s recruiting into the Heights, he needs the win. If he doesn’t get it, we don’t know what the punishment might be, and I don’t even want to think about it. As for me, K is already fed up with my existence. If I lose this fight, therefore losing the fight audience, he may not have a use for me. Not even Johnny’s feelings can save me now.
“I take it this is Big Daddy K’s doing?”
It doesn’t surprise me that Jax knows K’s name. Everyone knows it.
I nod.
“Why?” he asks. For someone who doesn’t want to get caught up in my shit, he’s asking a lot of questions. “It doesn’t make any sense. Finn follows the underground fights more than I do, and he says you guys are the best fighters the Crew has. I don’t know why he would put you up against each other so quickly.”
I pull my shoulder blades back to stretch then test my neck, working it from side-to-side while I figure out how to answer or how much information I should give him. “I think it has to do with me,” I tell Jax finally. “He’s not very pleased with me at the moment.”
“So, he’s doing this to fuck you over?”
“Or to test me.”
“And the problem is…you like Brawler.”
His gaze seers me like a hot press. I push my tongue against my teeth as I figure out what to say. “He’s my friend,” I say finally. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
Jax studies me for a little longer before standing to stretch. The bottom band of his tank pulls up over his abs, and I look away to see Oscar and Finn still trading friendly blows amidst laughter. It’s good to see Oscar so carefree.
I peek over my shoulder to find Magnum still staring out the glass double doors leading out to the parking lot, but when I look away, my gaze stops on Brawler again.
“I’m going to need a little break,” I say to Jax. “Mind if Brawler and I talk privately somewhere?”
Jax cocks his head toward the back of the gym. “You can talk in the office.”
I nod, stand, and make my way over to his sullen form. He lifts his gaze when he sees me approach. His sad eyes stand out the most, and I just want to crawl into his arms, but I have to be mindful of where we are and what I’m allowed to do. “Let’s talk,” I tell him, motioning toward the back.
He stands, and I turn to lead him toward the office. Oscar watches us, but then Finn throws a punch he almost eats, so he’s immediately pulled back into the pretend match he has going on.
When we get into the back office, a cracked leather two-person seater that looks as if it could have originally come from a doctor’s office that went out of business awaits us. A huge steel desk sits in the middle of the room. One side neatly arranged while the other is a complete mess with paperwork and receipts strewn everywhere.
I close the door behind us. The blinds over the small window in the barrier bounce off a couple of times until they still again.
I reach up, pulling Brawler’s hood back to reveal his full face. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he says.
I told myself I was going to be smart about being with each of the guys, but I’m truly a goner for all of them. The desperate look in his eyes beckons me forward. I press against him, kissing him on the lips. A soft brush at first, tentative, exploring, until my baser instincts take over. This is the guy who’s fought for me from the beginning. The one who threw caution to the wind first, despite Johnny’s public claiming, and I’ll be damned if I let him swim in turmoil over this.
He pushes me away, tearing his lips from me. “How can you even kiss me after what I did? I fucked this up. Fight you? You?” He slams his fist into the wall by my head. “I won’t.”
“You will,” I tell him. “And it’ll be okay.”
“God, I fucking hate him,” he growls.
“I don’t want to talk about that. We’ll figure out something, and even if we do have to get in the ring together, it won’t matter. I’ll pretend your punches are kisses.”
He drops his head at me, looking as if I’m completely insane. Brawler’s fists aren’t lips. That’s for damn sure. But they can have the same effect on my body. Both want to tear me apart.
“I’ll let you pummel me over and over,” I tell him, trailing my hand down his taut torso. His body locks up when I get to his hips like he wants to pull away, but he doesn’t. I explore lower, palming his hard dick through his athletic shorts. “Every hit I take will be worth it.”
He moans as I stroke him. He’s on the border of giving in despite the conflict written all over his face.
“Or maybe I’ll just let you take me out,” he says, voice betraying all the emotions he’s trying to keep back.
But he can’t do that, can he? He’s committed to the gang. I’ve had the answer in the back of my head this whole time. No one else is saying it out loud, so neither am I. Brawler has to win. There’s no point in arguing about it. He has the most to lose at this point.
I drop to my knees in front of him, and his gaze darkens. “Don’t.”
I reach up to his shorts, slowly removing them, pulling them out and around his erection as it levels in my line of sight. The sight of his cock turns me on even more. I push his shorts to the floor and inch closer, my hands reaching up the backside of his thighs. I press my fingertips there, and he jerks forward. I take him inside, moaning at the feel of him in my mouth.
“Fuck...” Brawler grinds out. He leans against the wall, peering at me with hooded eyes.
Here, I’m his. He can say he won’t hurt me, and maybe that’s what this is. A desperate need to tell him it’s okay. To tell him it doesn’t matter what happens next. We’ll still be each other’s.
I suck hard and pull back, letting him pop out of my mouth. I wrap my fingers around his base, stroking him again, eyeing the pre-cum that’s seeped out greedily. “Do you remember that day you wrote on my mirror? I saw it you know.”
I lick the salty liquid with the tip of my tongue, and he shudders.
“Fucking beautiful,” I say reverently, letting the sparks fly over my skin just like they did when I first saw his message. He had some huge balls to go against Johnny then. To tell me he’d help me get out.
He reaches down with one hand, pulling his fingers through my hair. He fondles a few strands before I move my mouth over him again. This time, he doesn’t hold back. He places his hand on the back of my head fisting a handful of my hair, but I’m the one in control. The one making Brawler lose his resolve. This is what he needs.
“I keep thinking about you,” he confesses. “I want to be inside you every night. To feel you under me, hear your cries.”
Intense heat settles in my core, which only spurs me on. I take him in further, pressing my lips against him tighter.
“Everything about you is fucking beautiful, Kyla. Everything.”
He tightens his grip in my hair as he rocks in and out of me. He starts out slow until a strangled cry releases from him that has more liquid heat dampening my panties. “Let go,” I urge, and then I’m right back on him again, stroking him toward the back of my throat.
I sink my nails into his ass as he fucks my mouth. The masculine noises of pleasure he makes coats me with pure need. Without warning, he rips my mouth from him as he places his hands over the tip of his jerking cock. Cum spills into his hands as I sit back in satisfaction. Watching my big man lose control thrills me. He took what he needed, and I let him. He doesn’t always have to be the knight in shining armor. He can be the one who defied everything despite the consequences.
Do I think he should’ve sacrificed himself to keep me safe? Fuck no.
I understand why he did it though.
He reaches behind him to the desk and grabs a few tissues to clean up with. He holds them tightly in his hand while he pulls his pants up and then helps me stand, pushing me against the concrete wall at my back. He kisses me, this time throwing himself behind the kiss until I’m in a daze, captured by the full force of his feelings. He doesn’t seem to give a fuck that he can taste himself on me, and my pussy throbs.
“Johnny’s a damn fool if he won’t share you with us.” He breathes heavily. He waits until I lock gazes with him until he asks, “What happens if he says no?”
I blink at him. Worry lines his features as if this question has kept him up at night. “If you’re asking if I’ll give you up, the answer is fuck no. You and Oscar are a part of me. Magnum, too. He won’t like the answer if he makes me choose.” My mouth dries. Fear coats me, and I look away, trying to keep my breathing under control. Just the thought of losing any of them sends me into a spiral.
“That’s if he doesn’t kill us first.”
“He won’t kill you,” I promise, gritting my teeth.
It’s a dangerous thing to promise, but if Johnny cares for me like he says he does, he won’t kill the people I care about. If he wants someone to rage at for what’s happened, he can rage at me. He can take his anger out on me. I’m the one who deserves it. I’ll gladly take all the punishment before he even faces the others.
“He doesn’t deserve you. Hell, none of us do, but he claimed you like you were property. He hacked his way into your life, and you know damn well what he did to you in the beginning.” I open my mouth to say something when he cuts me off. “He hurt you, Kyla. Don’t you remember that? The bruises I saw. The bandages I had to apply.” His body shudders in thought as I wince. “I get when you say he doesn’t know any better, but if he decides he wants in on this... You, me, Oscar, Magnum. We’re having words with him. He doesn’t treat you like that. If he does it again, I don’t care who he is, he answers to us.”
