by Quinn, Cari
That was probably an insult. I didn’t take it as one, though, because I’d worn those marks and scars as badges of pride. I was a fighter. A survivor. Not a victim.
Never a victim.
“Next time, try to be funny, okay?” I asked, rubbing the heels of my hands over my cheeks just in case I’d sprung a leak.
They were dry, thank God. Sometimes tears escaped when I didn’t expect them to, and in the mood I was in, anything was possible.
Carly finished toeing off her sneaker and sent it flying. Her aim must’ve been off, because it bounced off the plant and landed sole down on the arm of the couch. “I thought the lack of sibling interference last night meant you were getting some. Sure doesn’t sound like it from that eau du bitchy wafting from your ass.”
“My ass is freshly showered, thank you very much. And I resent your implication that if I’m being ‘bitchy’, it’s because I haven’t gotten sex. I’ll have you know that I get plenty, and it hasn’t improved my mood one bit.”
Somehow that had sounded better in my head.
“Speaking of sex,” I cleared my throat, “I’m assuming that’s what kept you out all night?”
Off went the other shoe. This one ended up on its side next to the coffee table. At least it was next to it and not on top of it. “It sure as hell wasn’t doing crossword puzzles.” She flopped down on the chair across from me. “Where’s Tray?”
“He left.”
“This early?”
I jerked a shoulder.
“It’s raining. He never gets up early on rainy days. Did he hit the gym?”
“Dunno.”
“Did he have work? I didn’t see it on his schedule.”
That was the last nail in my metaphorical mental coffin. My sweet boyfriend who’d even tacked up a schedule on the fridge to let us know when he would be at which job hadn’t even bothered to kiss me goodbye. He’d spackled the walls and gone off to places unknown while I imagined all kinds of horrible things.
Worst of all, he knew that I disasterized everything. It was just my nature—or it had been for the last eight years. Usually, he was so careful to allay my fears. But today, he’d just walked.
Deserving that kind of treatment didn’t make it hurt any less.
“I don’t fucking know where he is, okay? He left. He’s an adult and can come and go as he pleases. Just like you can.” Oh boy, I was on a roll now. A bad one. “You know, while we’re at it, don’t worry about sending your sister a text to let her know you’re not lying dead in a gutter somewhere next time. You’ve found someone to screw you so screw me, right?”
She reared across the table so fast that I didn’t have time to block her slap. Her palm hit my face with such force that the side of my head snapped against the wall, bringing a clarifying rush of pain to my skull.
My muddied thoughts cleared, washed away by the incessant throb in my head. Rather than checking to see how badly I was hurt, I turned to examine the wall. I didn’t want Tray to need to use more of his spackle.
If he came back.
Ignoring the twist in my chest, I faced my sister without cupping my cheek. She was breathing hard, and if I knew her as well as I thought, probably scandalized at what she’d done. Only one of us was bloodthirsty by nature, and it certainly wasn’t my happy-go-lucky, chef-in-training baby sis. “I like pain,” I said simply. “You would’ve hurt me more if you made me watch a Disney movie.”
“Got it.” She slumped back in her chair. “Next time I want to kick your ass, I should break out Mulan.”
A laugh slipped out before I knew it was coming. “Go with Lion King for the kill shot. That fucker always makes me cry.”
She laughed too, propping her elbows on the table and pushing her hands into her long red hair. I would’ve been jealous of that hair, had I ever coveted girly things. “So let me guess. Your bitchy ways drove Tray out, then you turned your Jedi skills on me.”
“Why is it being bitchy to tell the truth?” Something I’d wondered often.
“Your version of the truth. I didn’t call last night because I was having fun. I’m sorry. I lost track of time, then it was just too late. Yeah, I had sex with him. He’s cute, he likes me, he made me a Chef salad with extra ham.” She shrugged. “Why does it have to be any more complicated than that?”
“I don’t know.” I honestly didn’t. Who was I to tell anyone what was too soon? I’d had sex with Tray the first time in an alley a couple of days after we met. I certainly wasn’t fit to lead any relationship brigades.
Hell, for all I knew, maybe I wouldn’t even be in a relationship by evening.
“It’s just sex,” Carly went on, making me wonder which one of us she was trying to convince. “Just involves using my body, not my heart.”
“I’ve had my body used, and I can tell you this—my heart got touched even when I tried to stop it. Not in a good way either.” I jerked to my feet, stopping when Carly grabbed my wrist.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. That was stupid to say. I’m just… God, Ame, I needed to feel good for a change. He’s really into me, and I guess I’m that shallow that I wanted to let him be. We’re friends and that’s enough.” She sighed. “Not everything has to be some big, dramatic love story.”
“So you’re not interested in him, he’s just a penis with a face?”
She snorted. “Holy crap, I hope I’ve forgotten that image by the next time I see him.”
“I’m serious, Carly Ann. I get the whole wanting to feel good thing. Believe me, I do. And I know sometimes you’ll do crazy things to get there, but—”
“You should.” She smudged her thumb over my inner wrist. Bruises bloomed halfway up my forearm. Finger-shaped bruises. They matched the ones on my other arm. “You do this.” There was no missing the judgment in her tone. “Whoops, sorry. You have him do it to you. Does it make it okay if he takes your choice away?”
I easily yanked my arm out of her hold. She didn’t have my strength. “Say what you want about me, but I never give away my choices. No one will ever make me powerless again. I’ll die first.”
“Ame, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Horror tinged her voice. “God, why does everything have to go back to your—” She broke off, obviously not wanting to say it.
I understood, since I didn’t fucking want to live it.
“Rape?” I asked softly, waiting for her nod. “It goes back to that because I came from that. The Amelia you knew before is gone. Everything I am now formed after those three months I spent in Darren’s house. So excuse the fuck out of me if I worry about you or if I expect you to treat your body with respect.”
Her eyes flared hotly, the blue seeming even more pronounced because it was surrounded by so much eyeliner. “Who says I’m not? I’m not harming my body. I’m just using it.”
“Fine, use it, but don’t let it use you up. You’re more than beautiful eyes and a gorgeous figure. You’re so much more.”
She rolled her eyes. “Is it time for that speech already? Next, you’ll say someday some dude will want me for more than my tits.” She glanced down and gave them an obvious bounce. “Maybe I don’t care if he does. Maybe this is more than enough.”
Because I had no response to that statement, I ignored it. “I’m all for having a good time, and God knows I want you to be normal and have a regular life, but I just don’t want you to make any moves you can’t take back.” I tried to gentle my tone. “I wasn’t given the choice back then. You have choices.”
She leaped up and got right in my face—as close as she could, considering she was half a foot shorter than me. “What about your choices now? Why do you have bruises all over your body when I know you’re not fighting anymore?”
I turned my face away. “That’s none of your business.”
“It’s none of my business, but my sex life is yours. Nope, sorry, it doesn’t work that way. If you want to be all up in my bed, you can expect the same damn thing from me. If you even still have a sex l
ife. Maybe you’ve finally driven him away.” She stepped back and pursed her lips. “Isn’t that what you want? To be all alone so no one will look too close if you make yourself bleed?”
Without waiting for my response, she disappeared down the hall and slammed the bathroom door. A moment later, the shower came on.
I slumped in my chair and pressed my fingertips to my aching cheek. If I longed to be alone, why did it sting so much?
Four
“So do I have to pay extra for you, or are you part of my membership?”
I set down the weight bar and slid out from under it. It took a second to blink away the sweat in my eyes, but even when I managed to, the view didn’t change. A gorgeous brunette stood at one end of my bench. Loose dark curls framed a face dominated by a pair of straightforward blue-green eyes that never deviated from their open perusal of my body. I wore track pants and a sleeveless muscle shirt, pure workout gear, but I was pretty sure she wasn’t interested in being my spotter.
Sitting up, I mopped my face with my towel. “I’m not for sale, sad to say.”
“No? I swear my membership offered exclusive members only bennies. So far, all I’ve seen are cramped showers in the ladies, way too much testosterone, and you.” She cocked her head and studied my weights. “Two-twenty, huh? Impressive.” She leaned forward and pinched my biceps. “These too.”
I swung my legs over the side. “Thanks.” I couldn’t say I minded the attention, especially since I’d been lower than the grime under my shoe all morning. But that didn’t mean I intended to cross any boundaries. Nor would I let her cross them for me. “So you’re new to The Cage?”
“Very new. I signed up earlier this week.”
“Well then, let me welcome you.”
Her gaze dropped to my mouth. “Here’s hoping that’s phase one.”
“Phase one and only.” I held out a hand. “I’m—”
“I know you. “ She pumped my hand in a firm grip, then held on when I would’ve pulled back. “Fox Knox. Fighter dude.”
I eased away and slung my towel around my neck. “No longer a fighter.”
Her gaze ventured downward again, though this time, my mouth was nothing but a pit stop. “Still a dude though,” she said, unabashedly studying my groin.
“Are you here to use the machines?” Strictly professional all the way. “Maybe take a class? I can help you figure out what might suit your interests.”
“No, I have a gym setup at home. I came here predominantly for something else.”
I stood and turned my back on her to clean up the bench. No matter how far I’d sunk emotionally, I wasn’t about to lead anyone on. Mia had me, heart and balls.
I could say that for sure, because both hurt like a motherfucker.
Leaving her alone in bed that morning had been hard as hell. I’d even forgotten to leave her a note in my haste to get out. Despite knowing how much she didn’t like to cuddle on most days—or maybe she liked it too much and hated what she saw as a weakness—I’d wanted nothing more than to wrap myself around her and ask why she’d needed to get that tattoo when she knew I was waiting for her. Why she was pulling away more each day.
And who the hell’s calls were blowing up her phone.
But I didn’t. Because even having to ask felt like a weakness I couldn’t stand. Trusting her was still new, and maybe I was failing a test. As much as I wanted to support her, always, I needed some fucking support too. I’d made a long overdue break from my parents and was changing where I lived, my job, and so much else, and I needed to know she had my back. That if I called her about something more important than leftovers, she wouldn’t ignore me to go get inked. Or…worse.
I didn’t think she was cheating on me. Didn’t want to think it. She’d never string me along. But that didn’t explain those calls on her cell or her distance.
And it also didn’t change the fact that a gorgeous woman was sucking me up with her saucer-sized eyes while a knowing little smile played around her mouth. She thought I was fantasizing about her. Instead, I was ruminating—again—about Mia.
Yeah, I was a chump. A faithful one, but still a chump.
“If you have a gym setup at home, what are you looking for here, exactly?” I yanked out a handful of wipes. I’d done so many reps that I’d practically sweat through my clothes yet the brunette kept licking her lips like I was dinner and she planned to eat with her hands.
“Coach Timmins told me yesterday that I’d get to meet my MMA trainer today. I stopped by the office and no one was there so I came here. Timmins said I’d be working with Tray—”
“Tray is me,” I interrupted smoothly, cocking a brow as I looked her up and down. Not as a man would examine a woman, but as a coach would study a fighter. She was fairly tall and seemed about average weight with definite biceps under the cap sleeves of her T-shirt. Beneath the tied-off hems of her capris, her calf muscles looked strong enough to do some damage.
If you ignored the hot pink nails and the perfect makeup job that would’ve made my girl roll her eyes hard enough to cause a strain, she passed for a fighter.
Which I said in not so many words.
She crossed her arms over her breasts. “I do not pass for a fighter, thank you very much. I am one. I used to fight professionally overseas. So you know, maybe stuff the judgment until you see what I’ve got, hey?”
Overseas. Well, that explained the faint British accent that had risen along with the temper in her voice. “My apologies.”
“Yeah, well, you can stuff those too.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “I see the fighter in you now.”
“And I see the asshole in you. Too bad the center is so crusty and hard, because the candy shell is so pretty.”
With effort, I managed not to sigh. I hated when people called me pretty.
She spun on her heel, took two steps, then turned back. “Bollocks to this. I’m not walking out. I’ve dealt with plenty of your type since I’ve been on the circuit. My former coach warned me coming over here would be like starting all over again. So we’ll just call you the first level.” She snapped a band off her wrist and tied her hair back, revealing a surprisingly long scar that curved along her hairline to her jaw. It nearly made me do a doubletake. Not because of the severity of the injury it represented, though that was significant, but it made me assess her in a whole new way. “If you’re done with your workout, we’ll get started.”
I smothered a smile. She must not realize I was well used to alpha females and wasn’t cowed by her commands. Rather, I found them amusing. “What’s your name?”
She blinked. “Evelyn Pierce.”
The name Pierce sounded familiar, but I didn’t know any fighters with that name. Looked like I’d be checking out the European roster for the past couple of years. “And your fighting name?”
“Evie.”
“Evie, great. Nothing else?”
The faintest blush stained her cheeks. “Hummingbird. And I don’t see what this has to do with—”
“Evie, let’s get a few things straight, shall we?” Finished cleaning, I tossed away the wipes and pasted on a bland smile. “Sometimes people think I’m an easy touch because I don’t growl more than breathe. I also smile now and then. What that means is if you piss me off, I won’t refuse to work with you. You’ll probably wish I had by the time we’re through.”
She crossed her arms and smirked as if such a thing was patently impossible. “Why is that?”
“I’ll exact my payment for your smart mouth by making you hurt like you’ve never hurt before.” My smile grew. “All for your own good, of course.”
Her lips twitched. “Naturally.”
“So I’d advise you to cut the attitude if you want to work with me. If you don’t, Timmins can assign you to another trainer. Like, oh, Mia. She’d just love you.”
“Mia? Who’s she?”
“You’ll meet her soon enough.” I was already picturing the snarl when Mia laid eyes on Evie.
Mia made up for my lack of growls times ten.
“I’ll stick with you.” She puffed up her chest. “No offense to Mia, but I prefer to spar with men.”
My grin caught me by surprise. “Where have I heard that before?”
As if on cue, the door to the workout room clanged open. Mia swaggered in, her shields fully in place. Love and lust coiled inside me, as they always did.
Mine. She was all fucking mine.
I opened my mouth, but my greeting stalled in my throat as I glimpsed who was behind her. Giovanni Costas, all machismo and gleaming eyes. Sweat splotched her T-shirt and dripped off his bare torso, as if they’d been going a round.
Together.
Something kicked in my gut, as hard as the butt of a gun. I shouldn’t have cared if they’d been using each other as practice dummies. As a trainer, Mia was required to work out with any member who needed assistance. It was her job. Plain and simple.
Too bad the odds of Giovanni admitting he needed assistance from an Anderson sister for anything other than sexual satisfaction ranked pretty damn low.
And they hated each other. Or they had, once. What the hell did I know anymore?
Before I could rein in the red haze creeping in around my vision, Mia stepped forward. A smile curved her mouth. It resembled a wolf’s expression before it took the first juicy bite out of your throat. “The dojo’s cleared out for your eleven o’clock appointment. If you can spare the time,” she added, her gaze centering on Evie.
“Excellent, since you’re looking at my eleven o’clock.” I headed past them toward the exit, shooting Evie a glance over my shoulder. “Let’s get started with some mat work so I can see where you’re at. Then we’ll talk specifics about what you’re looking for.”
“Oh, I’ve already spotted what I’m looking for, darling,” Evie said as she followed, her British accent thicker than ever.
As was her snark.
“Excuse me?” Mia’s voice dripped acid, all pretense of pleasantness gone. “Who the fuck are you talking to like that?”
“Easy,” I said to Mia, hoping my relief that she was jealous wasn’t as evident as the smirk I wanted to punch right off Giovanni’s face.
