You have got to be shittin’ me.
The fuck was she doing here?
I took the steps two at a time, pissed as fuck she was sitting at the bar flirting with my right-hand man. The same bar where she’d draped her legs around my neck while I ate out her pussy not too long ago. I hit the ground at a near run as the two of them smiled at each other, their faces close. The house lights dimmed as the announcer tapped the microphone, testing its frequency for the first fight of the night. They had yet to notice me approaching the bar. Rage slammed into my chest like a heavy weight. My body count tallied two tonight; the way my heart was pumping the closer I got to them, that number could easily change to three.
“Tell me, Odie. What brings you here tonight?” Ferdi asked.
A low growl rumbled from inside my chest. I stood toe to toe with my closest friend.
“She came for me,” I snarled.
Motherfuckin’ Mine
Otelia startled at that sound of my voice. Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. The dress she wore was a cheaply made knockoff, but she was working that shit to its fullest. Hours of standing on her feet serving plates of hash made her toned legs stand out the most. I could almost feel them wrapped around my back as I drilled her tight pussy with my hard cock. Ferdi, that bastard, raised a questioning eyebrow, but instead of moving away, he threw his arm over her shoulders. I wanted to take a bat to his head and wipe that arrogant smirk right off his fucking face. I might be in the market for a new second if he kept that shit up.
“Otelia Mae.” I used her full name.
“Mac.”
“I take it you two know each other?” Ferdi asked.
“You could say that,” Otelia explained. “I was invited to his penthouse once, as a guest, not as a kidnapping victim or anything. We dined on expensive food and wine, did each other’s hair, told a few bad jokes. Good times.”
“I see,” Ferdi replied, the cogs in his brain working overtime to figure things out. “Darragh here doesn’t invite too many friends to his place. What made you so special, Odie?” He leaned in and brushed his finger along her bare shoulder.
I had enough of his bullshit. My hand shot out and latched on to Otelia’s upper arm, yanking her sexy ass clear off the barstool. She stumbled on those high-as-fuck heels before I steadied her with a stiff arm. As soon as she was upright, I maneuvered her behind me and away from the asshole who wanted in her panties. He got the fucking drift. Flesh pounded on flesh as the two fighters squared off in the center of the ring, the brutal echoes the backdrop to my need to claim. The crowd’s boisterous cries for blood didn’t drown out the soft pants coming from Otelia’s lips. Her body radiated with heat, either from the closeness to my body or the action taking place in the ring. I’d told Ferdi she was there for me, and by the way her pulse had ratcheted up, I’d say my guess was spot the fuck on.
“Come to the office in about an hour.” I pinned him with a hard look. “There’s some shit we need to discuss after I take care of Otelia.”
“Maybe we should take care of her together, say, over a nice bottle of champagne? Two big heads are always better than one, Darragh.”
I stepped right up into his grill and bared my teeth. “Not now, not fucking ever. You got me?”
Something akin to understanding flashed in his eyes before he dipped his chin and took his leave. I was sure I’d be catching a lot of shit from Ferdi later. My refusal to share Otelia might be misconstrued, and he’d no doubt have a lot of questions. I just wasn’t so sure I’d be willing to answer them.
“That was rude, even for you, Mac,” Otelia bristled beside me.
“Did you come here for him?” I leaned in closer. “Or for me?”
She squared her shoulders. “I came for myself.”
Fuck, she was beautiful. That fire in her riveting blue eyes set my cock on edge. I remembered the kiss we’d shared the night of the bare-knuckle fight at Buck’s junkyard. The way her body melded against mine as she’d initially struggled against my assault. Then finally her acquiescence, the feel of her soft tits pressed between us. It was both heaven and hell to let her go. Selfishly, I wanted another taste of those pouty lips, a pleasure I wouldn’t deny myself.
I offered Otelia my hand. “Come. The view is much better from the front.”
She didn’t hesitate to place her small hand in my larger one. Such a brave little thing, my curious little kitty cat. All eyes were on us as I led her past the crowd of rowdy onlookers surrounding the ring. Security prevented anyone from getting within ten feet of the platform, but they damn sure made room for me, allowing us through before resuming their post.
AGHHH!
EEESH!
IMMHH!
This close to the action, you could almost feel every cracked rib, broken nose, and busted lip. Sheer savagery of two opponents wanting to kill each another and win the purse. Otelia’s eyes grew as large as saucers. Both thrilled and repulsed at the same time, she visibly flinched with every hard blow. I slid in behind her, my arms circling her waist at the same time pulling her closer against my chest. She shuddered, a desperate sound that spoke to her vulnerability at my intimate acquaintance. I ground my hardness against her tight ass and whispered huskily near her ear. Her breathing grew ragged.
“Fighting is so much like fucking, wouldn’t you agree, Otelia?” I peppered soft kisses behind her ear, the sweet spot, as I liked to call it. “You need stamina to go the distance if you expect a knockout. Strength to render your opponent quaking and boneless. More importantly,”—I pushed further into her, catching her earlobe between my teeth while splaying my palm along her ribcage just below her breast—“you need power and control if you want to give a pussy the proper beatdown.”
“Hmm…Darragh,” she mewled.
“Is this the real reason why you came to me, Otelia? You missed the feel of my cock? Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t want this.”
The little minx reached around and stroked my dick while I paid special attention to her exposed neck. We moved as one, in a crowded warehouse surrounded by people, but in that moment, it was just the two of us. The yearning to bend her over and fuck her ringside was strong, stronger than anything I’d ever felt in my life. Until she pulled away.
“I can’t do this, Darragh. I made a huge mistake by coming here tonight. I thought…”
I ran a frustrated hand down my face.
“This isn’t the place to look for love, Otelia. Now, run along to where it’s safe and sincere men will line up to do your bidding. You won’t find that here.”
One touch of her cheek was all I would allow myself before dropping my arms from her waist. I felt cold the minute she left my embrace and started to walk away. Her beautiful blue eyes had lost their luster. One glance, and she was gone. The background noise intensified as the announcer declared the victor of the match. The night’s winners congratulated each other with high fives and fist pumps while the losers ripped their betting slips to shreds and dumped them bitterly on the floor. After everything that happened tonight, I knew exactly where I belonged in that scenario—smack dab in the loser’s pile.
Knuckle up, motherfuckers…
CHAPTER 22
Otelia
I’D BEEN DOING really well, at least I thought I was, only listening to his voicemail message once, maybe twice, on any given day. Now, it seemed that once per hour wasn’t enough to bring me the much-needed comfort it always had in the past. I excused myself from the bustle of Nipsy’s dining room and stepped outdoors into the warm air and setting sun. Good thing the man himself wasn’t around; he’d have my ass for skipping out during a rush. My fingers trembled when I pressed the play arrow on my cell and waited impatiently for his voice to come through the speaker. The quiet timber of his drawl started the first wave of tears. There’d be plenty more before this was over. Eight fucking years, and my grief was as strong today as it was on the day he went away. My arms went around my middle pretending they were his, wishing I co
uld feel his embrace just once more. A breeze blew across my cheek, as light as a kiss, a whisper.
Good morning, my love.
I know I’m due to see you at school in less than an hour, but I just couldn’t wait to tell you this. I love you. I love you. I love you. You are my everything, Odie. You have no idea the depts of my feelings for you. I know, I know, it’s too damn early in the morning for this sappy shit, but I just couldn’t help myself. Meet me by my locker before first bell. Did I tell you that I love you? Alright, alright, see you soon.
Beeepppp
My life was turning into a series of bad choices, one more fucked up than the last, with zero measure of relief in sight. When had I become this person? Jealous and bitter, angry at the fucking world because for once, I couldn’t get my own shit together. A case in point, the Monday after my run-in with Mac, I’d told Nipsy to only schedule me for evening shifts going forward. Why? Because I could no longer stand the sight of my best friend and her perpetually happy ‘look at me, I’m well fucked and in love’ smile on her face. I’d admit, it was petty and childish. I wanted nothing more than for Maribel to enjoy her newfound happiness. She deserved that. I just couldn’t get past the ‘why not me’ factor every time we worked together. Where was my promised love, my goddamn paradise, my fucking future? One thing was for sure: it wasn’t with the man who sparked a fire deep inside my belly every time I was near him.
If I kept things simple, as they once were, I’d forget about Darragh MacCabe in no time. Seeing him in his element, that illegal monster he’d created and exploited, was a huge mistake. I never should’ve gone there in the first place. I could still feel the weight of his possessive touch as he groped me haughtily in front of everyone. He gave less than that first fuck if we were discovered feeling each other up, and why should he? He owned the place. He made me feel weightless, floating on top of the ocean’s waves like sea foam, until the reality of life crashed me ashore. I never thought I’d say this, but the man was just… wow. Larger than life and still growing, he was the sort who sucked all the air out of a room simply by being in it. I went to those fights looking for something to stop my mind and body from acting on impulse. What I found was more than I bargained for. Danger, sex, dominance, hedonism, it was all there under the watchful eye of its benefactor. Mac was right—there was no love to be found in a place like that, only heartache and pain. So, I ran for my life, straight into the arms of nothingness.
Anger.
I felt it in my soul.
So strong it nearly took my knees right out from under me. He wasn’t supposed to leave me all alone. He’d fucking promised. Now he was gone. Forever. I’m so lonely. So fucking lonely I could hardly take a breath. He’d lied to me, and I’d believed him. I raised my head and looked to the heavens, hoping he’d send me a sign. My beautiful, beautiful boy. The love of my life. My everything. We’d had it all planned out, from graduation to college, careers, then finally marriage and children. Fall football practice ended those dreams in the cruelest way possible. My deprivation turned to rage, I cursed him and his stupid promise. I cursed his stupid love, and I cursed his retched torture.
Damn you, Gates.
Damn you.
“Hey, Odie? I could use some help in here. It’s getting kind of crazy.”
“I’ll be right in.”
I dried my useless tears and stowed the phone away in my pocket. I wouldn’t be needing it anymore tonight. Back inside, I fell easily into my normal routine of chatting up the customers, smiling pleasantly, flirting. Compared to the morning shift, the evenings were a breeze. Tired workers who’d spent too many long hours on the job and needed a cup of coffee just to make it home. Young families looking for a cheap wholesome meal while staying within budget. Seniors who preferred a little conversation before going home to bed. We were a sad bunch of misfits navigating our way through a world that was often cruel and unforgiving. Three more hours, I told myself. You got this, Odie.
Three hours till home.
The television blared from my living room with an old episode of The Golden Girls. The classic sitcom was supposed to relax me, take the edge off from both physical and mental exhaustion. So far, the only thing it managed to do was make me feel more antsy, unable to settle. I tried looking through the numerous Facebook posts from some of my friends. Mainly people I’d met at the diner and thought their lives were interesting. Tonight, they all just seemed sort of ordinary. Pinterest was a bust. Instagram sucked ass, too many pictures of smiling couples and their furry pets. Fed up with social media, I decided to scroll the contact list on my phone. Male companionship, that’s what I needed, a strong, hard body between my sheets till the wee hours of the morning. Someone to take my mind off he who shall not be named.
Darragh.
I flipped past the Aarons, the Bobs, the Coreys, and the Darrels until I reached a number I hadn’t called in years. Would they have changed it, moved to a different location, sold their home and started over? I knew the answer to those questions. They would never leave him, remaining close to their only child, visiting him as often as they could. My finger paused over the listing; hot tears sprang to my eyes as I contemplated what to do next. The hour was early enough that I wouldn’t wake anyone, but how could I contact them? What would I say? My heart was at war with my guilt, yet during all that reflection coupled with misgivings, my mind had been subconsciously made up.
“Hello?”
“Helllooo, anyone there?”
“Hi…um…hello, Mrs.—” She’d always told me to call her mom, but that was before. “It’s Odie.”
“Praise the Lord!” she screamed, calling for her husband in the background to pick up on the other end. Of course, they’d kept their landline. Gotta love old people.
“How are you? Where are you? When are you coming for a visit?”
They pummeled me with various questions, not waiting long enough to hear the answers, until we finally settled into the ebb and flow of a normal conversation. I told them all about Nipsy’s, my best friend, Maribel, and the quaint small town of Remington. They, in turn, filled me in on Mrs. Gates’ volunteer work, her sewing club, Mr. Gates’ trouble with gout that’s been giving him hell. His words, exactly. And all the things in between. Before long, an hour had passed without a single mention of the one thing that was on all of our minds since the beginning of the call.
I wanted to get it over with, say his name and conjure his memory, but to what end? To share in the often-told stories of a life lost too soon? To have a big old cry fest, leaving all of us feeling like shit until the next time we talked? My stomach tightened with knots of uncertainty, the plausibility that they’d never forgiven me for being weak, too frail to give them the last connection to their son they were ever going to have. Tapping at my front door interrupted my thoughts. I startled the longer it continued. It wasn’t as heavy as an actual knock, more akin to a woodpecker building a new home at my expense. I rose from my seat on the couch and stalked towards the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of who could be outside my house, uninvited. Nothing but darkness as far as I could see, yet that incessant tapping remained constant. Begrudgingly, it was time to say goodbye and wish them well
“Don’t wait so long to call us next time, child. You are a part of our family, always will be.”
“Thank you, that means…more than you’ll ever know, both of you.”
“He would have made an excellent father, and you…” She tried to hide her sniffle. “A deserving mother. I’ll keep you in my prayers, Odie.”
Now, it was my turn to hide my sorrow. “Goodbye, Mom and Dad.”
I took a few moments to gather myself before approaching the door. If they waited this long to see me, another few minutes wouldn’t hurt. The lounge pants and camisole I wore covered all of my lady bits, so I didn’t bother with a robe.
“Who is it?” I yelled before releasing the locks.
No answer.
Strange.
I made a show of unl
atching the six deadbolts. “There better be a Publishers Clearinghouse representative with a big fucking check, banging on my goddamn door this time of night. Do you know…”
Whatever else I felt like shouting was caught on a panicked gasp and morphed into a strangled scream. I corralled my beating heart long enough to read the message written across my doorway in blood.
Dirty Slut.
Off to the left, a dead fish hung from the outside light, its eyes glazed over and staring right at me. A wave of nausea gripped me by the throat as my body broke out in a blast of sweat. Motherfucking, shit-ass fuck. I knew the person responsible for this mess. Somehow, someway, he was the cause. I grabbed my phone and purse and ran blindly towards my car, not bothering with important stuff like a pair of shoes. If Mac thought he could get away with this shit, he had another think coming. It was time I went to the mattresses on his ass.
CHAPTER 23
MacCabe
I MET WITH Ferdi inside my office an hour later. Otelia had fled by then, much to my disappointment, or perhaps it was for the better. Another second with my hand on her tits while her ass was grinding against my cock, and I would’ve embarrassingly come in my pants. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected her to show up here, at an underground fight club, looking like a walking wet dream. It had been three weeks since the bout at the junkyard and the last time I’d set eyes on her. Pissed as hell, spouting bullshit about how much she hated me and wished my dick would fall off. The feistiness in her tone after the thrill of victory made my balls tighten to the point of explosion. I’d released her with a single kiss, a farewell, or so I’d thought. Watching her flirt shamelessly with Ferdi bought it all back like a tidal wave—the need, the want, the fire. Her escape didn’t help my mood any. Leaving me with a hard dick and no outlet was not conducive to the bad news Ferdi reported. One name was all it took for the bottom to drop out and for shit to go nuclear.
48 Mac (A Junkyard Boys Novel) Page 13
