by Amity Cross
I wished there was a chair for me to sit on because my knees were wobbly like jelly.
“I want to believe you,” I whispered. “But… I went out with Justin tonight.”
His expression fell.
“If the story was a lie, then why did you let me believe it?” I asked. “Why didn’t you say anything when…”
“Because…” He took a deep breath. “Because…”
“Because?” I prodded.
“I didn’t do it, but maybe I deserved the punishment.”
“What are you talking about?” I scowled. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I was a jerk. I still am.”
I shook my head, not even knowing what to say to that. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand you, Mark.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone else, so I stay away.”
I snorted. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“You say you’re pushing people away to protect them, but who’ll protect you? Huh? You can care about other people but won’t let anyone care about you?”
“You sound like Lori,” he muttered.
My scowl deepened. I didn’t know who that was.
“It doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me,” I said. “Not outright but by omission. Now you’re asking me to take it on faith you’re innocent, and you’re admitting to hurting people to save them. From what? Being associated with that domestic violence story?” I shook my head. “This is fucking crazy, you know that?”
He lowered his gaze. “I know.”
“So what changed?” I asked. “Why did you come back?”
“I’d given up,” he muttered. “I’ve got nothing, but when I was with you…”
He trailed off, and I waited, my heart jackhammering in my chest. This was the zing I was hoping for all night. The snap, crackle, and pop of electricity that signaled I was attracted to someone. Like a sordid joke, it was a complicated, brooding, messed-up man like Mark. How could I survive this?
“Callie…” he whispered, taking a step closer. “You’ve gotta believe me.”
His chocolate eyes were sparkling. Were they tears? For real?
Before I could reconcile my thoughts, Mark strode forward and pulled me against his chest. When his lips met mine, I wanted to push him away, but I melted. He was the fire, and I was molten metal. His desire bent me to his will, and I was a goner. The trouble was, I wanted him.
His tongue ran along the seam of my lips, demanding entrance, but it was I who forced my way forward. I buried my hands into his scruffy hair and held him close, kissing him back just as deeply. My body reacted to his, my nipples tightening and my clit aching as his taste overwhelmed me. This was what I was hoping for all night. Justin wasn’t Mark. That was the problem.
His left arm was tight around my waist, the cast feeling strange against my lower back, and his right hand tangled in my hair, holding me in place as his lips caressed mine. What should I do now? Believe his story and give him a chance?
“How could this be wrong?” he asked, his mouth brushing against my swollen lips. “How could it be when it feels like this?”
“Like what?” I whispered.
His eyes were hooded, his jaw tight.
“Like what?” I asked again.
“Like nothing else matters.”
We stood in the middle of my shop, tangled in each other, for a long time. I studied the flecks of black in his chestnut-colored eyes, memorized the line of his jaw, traced the curve of his cheek, and took in the last yellow tinges of the black eye he’d shown up with on our second date.
He was deeply complicated and a puzzle I might never solve, but I found myself wanting to give him a chance. One final chance.
Finally, I sighed, cupped his face in my trembling hands, and spoke the words in my heart.
“I believe you.”
19
Storm
“Come home with me,” I said, holding Callie close.
She was trembling, her eyes downcast. The scent of fresh paint lingered in the air, her shop looking a lot better than the last time I’d seen it.
“I want… There are some things I need to explain about myself and…” I hated how I was lost for words, but I suppose it was meant to be this way. Fighting was tough, and even in the cage, an easy win wasn’t as satisfying as a hard-won battle.
“Mark…” She was hesitating even after she’d said she believed me.
“I just…” I swallowed hard. “The only thing that matters to me is you. Your opinion. Your feelings. I didn’t expect to leap into that fire, and least of all to find you. You could have been anyone, but you’re Callie.” I brushed my fingers through her hair and breathed in her sweet scent. “You’re Callie.”
Her entire body shuddered, and her grasp tightened. “I’m not ready to let you go.”
My heart twisted. “Then don’t.”
Her fingers uncurled from around my shirt and found mine. Grasping my good hand, she nodded toward the door. She didn’t have to ask me twice.
Outside, we walked through the streets side by side, barely touching. Something had changed between us, something I didn’t understand, and there was no telling if it was good or bad. She was willing to listen, and that was the first step. She would listen and then decide if she would leave me or stick around.
“What happened to your arm?” she asked as we turned into my street.
“It got stood on.”
“Stood on? During a fight?” She seemed outraged, but I knew the cost of fighting at The Underground. If this was the worst it dished out, then I got off lightly.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“That’s fucked up, you know.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” I retorted.
“I’m not even going to ask why.” She turned her face away but didn’t stop walking.
Callie was not impressed by my chosen profession, but I didn’t really have a choice unless she wanted to give me a job handing out cupcakes at her shop. Imagine that. A cage fighter wearing an apron.
Approaching the entrance to the block of apartments, I let us into the communal area and led her upstairs. I was number five, right at the end, and for the first time since moving in, the trek down the hall felt like a million miles.
Finally, we reached the door, and I unlocked it. Inside, I flicked on the light and held the door for her, closing it once she’d stepped across the threshold. Noticing her shiver, I turned on the central heating.
“This is yours?” she asked, looking around.
“This is mine.”
The loft-style apartment was unique for Melbourne, the brick feature walls and industrial-style windows were a feature of the original building. It was a renovated warehouse some developer had converted into five separate two bed, two bath, open-plan living, and small outdoor terrace apartments. Below us were lock-up garages and a two-minute walk to Brunswick Street.
“When I got back to Melbourne, I was crashing on couches,” I said, watching her wander through the place, her fingers brushing over the furniture I’d gotten some stylist to choose for me. “I was skint…and broken.”
“Then how…” She stopped by the leather couch, her hands gripping the back.
“Cage fighting.”
She glanced at me. “You earn that kind of money there?”
I nodded.
She snorted and shook her head. “And here I am doing it the hard way.”
“The honest way,” I said firmly. “If I could, I would be doing the same thing, but I’m stuck.”
“Right…” She didn’t say it, but it was written all over her face. No one wanted to hire a guy accused of bashing a woman regardless of guilt.
“Can I get you a drink?” I asked lamely.
“No. I think you had better start explaining.” She rounded the back of the couch and sat gingerly on one end. “I can’t… I’m not sure how this is going to go. I can’t promise you…”
&n
bsp; “I know,” I murmured. “I get it, Callie. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want, but…I want this. I want you.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she patted the couch beside her. “Then tell me all about it. Tell me why I should believe you and not them.”
Her words cut, and I almost fell back into old habits. It was easier to walk away and marinate in my own misery than to stand up and fight. Not with my fists but with my words. My heart had been closed for business for a long time, and I wasn’t quite sure how to use it anymore. I wanted to…it was just… It was rusty as fuck.
Sitting beside her, I tossed my phone and keys onto the coffee table. Shucking off my jacket, I lay it over the arm of the couch and nursed my broken arm in my lap.
“I started out fighting at The Underground,” I began.
“What’s that?”
“It’s where I fight now. It’s this warehouse in Abbotsford. The whole thing is illegal, from the bar, the betting, the fighting, and a great deal of other shit that no one talks about. A fighter can make good money there. Hundreds of thousands, even millions.”
Callie’s eyes widened. “But it’s criminal?”
“No rules. No accountability,” I replied with a nod. “I had a talent for fighting, and when an opportunity came up to train for an opening in the UFC in America, I took it. Money was great, but I wanted fame. I wanted to be in the big leagues so bad I did everything in my power to get there. Anything.”
“Anything?” She swallowed hard.
“I double-crossed, I cheated people out of money at The Underground, I bragged, I…” I ran my good hand over my face. “Lori was my ex. I cheated on her.”
Callie visibly stiffened.
“I’m not proud of it,” I went on. “I regret treating her the way I did, but she’s happy now. She moved on with this guy Hamish. He fights at The Underground, too.” I lifted my left arm. “I used to think he hated my guts. Well, he did, but he took me to the hospital.” I shrugged.
“It sounds like… People don’t like you very much.”
“They don’t. I didn’t give anyone a reason to think otherwise. I thought it would be easier if everyone went on hating me. If no one got close, then I couldn’t drag them down with me. I never thought it was possible to be dragged up.”
“Tell me about the woman,” she said.
“I was naive,” I said, gritting my teeth. “When I first got to the States, I smashed my qualifier and was set to be the next big thing. People were all over me, offering me endorsements, money, cars, inviting me to parties, offering me drugs… Women wanted me, guys wanted to be mates… I realized too late it was all empty. They wanted to get in on the ground floor. You know what I mean? Ride me all the way to the top, sucking me dry like a pack of leeches. That woman, that ring girl…she was the biggest leech of all.” I glanced away, the memory of the cops knocking at my door clear as day. “We went out for a couple of weeks…” I glanced at Callie. “Do you really want to hear all this?”
Her eyelashes fluttered like she was fighting back tears. “Yeah,” she said. “I need to hear it.”
Sighing, I continued. “Every time we met up, she would have a new bruise. I didn’t think anything of it because she trained as well, you know? They have to keep their bodies in top shape, and at the time, she was learning MMA. Bruises happen. They’re part of the job. She also… She also liked being rough…in bed. She never once said no or stop. It was always yes. Always.” I shook my head, the humiliation of my downfall washing over me. It was as raw as it was the first time around. “I wasn’t the nicest guy, but I never hurt her. The first I heard of the allegations was when the cops knocked on my door and arrested me.”
“You choked her,” Callie whispered.
“She asked me to.” I shoved down the urge to shout it at her. “She asked me to, so I did. It was her word against mine. The evidence was against me, so it was either serve time in an American prison or settle out of court. So I settled and came home.”
Callie didn’t say anything. She just stared at her hands as her fingers worried the hem of her shirt.
“I lost everything because of that woman. My reputation, my money, my career, my relationships. It was all gone. The only place I had left was The Underground. I fought there under an alias, but my downfall soon caught up with me. Soon, the entire world hated me for something I didn’t do. It was still my word against hers. Nothing will ever change.”
I stood abruptly and strode over to the window. Staring at the street below, I tried not to dwell on the awful thought going through my mind. Maybe I should just end it. But that would be too easy.
“So why do you push everyone away?” Her voice was quiet. Tentative.
“Because I’m tainted,” I replied, not turning around. “Everyone who touches me gets hurt. Either by my hand or by association. This is my karma.”
I wasn’t smart enough to think of a word to describe the sadness in my heart, but it ached worse than my broken arm. It was…darkness.
“I’m a self-destructive piece of shit,” I muttered, knowing she could hear every word. “I can’t promise you easy.”
Leather creaked, and a moment later, Callie appeared beside me. Her arm slid through mine, and her emerald eyes burned into the side of my face.
“So?” she asked. “What are you going to do now?”
I glanced at her, my brow furrowing. What was I going to do? Bow down at her feet and lick her shoes pretty much.
“Try,” I replied. “All I can do is try.”
“I’ve never felt like this before,” she began, her voice wavering. “I’m not sure what to do either, you know.”
“I don’t believe it. A woman like you?”
“Like me?” She scowled.
“Yeah. A woman like you,” I said more firmly. “Intelligent, driven, successful…beautiful.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes.
“I want to live up to that,” I murmured. “For the first time in my life, I want… I want to be a better man. For you. For your heart, Callie.”
Her eyes sparkled as she turned to face me completely. “You really believe those things about me?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
“Then listen to me,” she declared. “You deserve to be loved, Mark Ryder.”
I froze, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
“I don’t know what’ll happen next,” she went on. “But all I can do is try. Are you with me?”
“You believe me?”
“I believe you.”
My heart soared. “I’m so with you I’m already there.”
Sliding my hand over her waist, I tugged her against my body, and the moment our lips touched, I was a goner.
20
Callie
When the sun rose the next day, things seemed different. Like I’d gathered a ton of life experience points and had leveled up.
I went on a date with a nice man—that didn’t really do anything for me—then went home with another on the same night. When did I become so…in demand?
I was torn in three very different directions. Mark was complicated and broken, but I was attracted to him to the point of agony. Justin was nice and considerate, and I might come to like him more than a friend given enough time. My business was demanding most of my time, and the dream I’d had since a child was finally manifesting.
But the promise I’d finally made was to Mark.
After a night asleep in Mark’s arms—with no added funny business—I cabbed it home all bleary eyed. It had been years since I’d crawled in at seven a.m. Not since my late teens and early twenties when I used to go out all night clubbing and seeing live bands. My tolerance for lack of sleep was completely shot. I was the walking dead.
Opening the front door, I shuffled down the hall to the kitchen, desperate for a little caffeine to kick-start the synapses in my brain. Macy was sitting at the table finishing her breakfast, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, dressed and ready for work. Ug
h, sometimes her perfection pissed me off, but at least she was dwarfed by my Twister heartbreak cake that took up three-quarters of the table.
“You’re getting in late,” she said with a wink.
“It’s not like that,” I mumbled, shuffling toward the coffee machine. Grabbing a pod, I popped it into the top, shoved a cup under the nozzle, and pressed the button that made magic happen.
“Then what’s it like?” Macy asked, hiding a grin. “Did you bag the firefighter?”
“No.” Opening the fridge, I took out the milk and topped up my coffee. “He was as much fun as a dirty dish rag. Ugh, I’m such a bitch. He was really nice and polite and all of those things, but there was just… Nothing.”
“Hey, that’s not always an indicator, you know. Sometimes relationships take time to build, especially when you don’t know the guy very well.” She raised her eyebrows. “Unlike the fighter…”
“Speaking of Mark,” I said with a scowl.
“Shit, Callie! Has he been harassing you?” She practically stamped her foot. “I knew it!”
“No, he hasn’t been harassing me.” I blew on my coffee and took a sip. “I stopped by the shop last night to check the progress, and he found me there.”
Macy’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously? He’s stalking you now?”
“It’s not like that. Just listen, okay? We had a long talk and he explained everything.” I stared into the mug, breathing in the scent. “He said it was all a lie. What that woman accused him of.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“He was pretty convincing,” I went on. “Extremely detailed. Though, you were right about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s got a ton of broken happening. A real shitload. You know he turned up last night with a broken arm?” Remembering the cast and his explanation—it got stood on—I winced a little.
“He fights illegally,” Macy said warily. “And has had all these accusations made against him. It sounds like bad news to me. He probably broke it fighting some other bastard for money. Are you sure you want to get mixed up with him?”
