Unspoken Vows (The Unspoken Love Series)

by H. P. Davenport

  “We’re paying for your wedding, so you don’t have to worry about that. The two of you are to use this money to buy a house or a condo in the city. Whatever you wish. There is enough there to pay for it in full,” my mom elaborates.

  This is unreal. Jamie and I have enough money to buy the home of our dreams. A home that we can raise a family in. A stab of guilt lays in my throat that my Nana and Papa aren’t here to experience this with us, but I know they are with me. Just like the letter says.

  With shaky hands, I hand Jamie the tear-stained letter to read.

  After a few moments, he hands the letter back to me. His own eyes bordering with tears.

  “I’m sorry that your grandparents aren’t here,” Jamie whispers in my ear.

  I nod. “They are, babe.” I place my hand over my heart. “They’re right here.”

  Swallowing the despair in my throat, I lean back to look at the man I love. The man who holds my heart.

  “So, where do you want to live?” I ask with a huge smile on my face. “Nana and Papa just bought us a house.”

  Jamie

  The lines at the airport aren’t too bad, since it’s only six o’clock in the morning. People are bustling around at the check-in counter at the curb. The shuttle pulls up outside the terminal for international flights. The driver exits the car and walks around to the passenger side to open the door for the girls to exit the van.

  Camryn laces her fingers with mine kissing me slow and thoughtfully. Burying her face in my neck, she breathes a kiss there. She pulls back and smiles. “Have fun with the guys.”

  “I will, you do the same.”

  She scoots across the seat and exits the van.

  The girls are heading to Punta Cana for Cami’s bachelorette party, or shall I say girls’ weekend getaway. Camryn had rules the girls needed to follow before she agreed to go on the trip. Absolutely no strippers. I laughed when she told me that she wanted a relaxing weekend away with the girls. Did she not know who her friends were? Knowing Morgan and Lindsey, her little getaway will be anything but relaxing. I can only imagine what trouble they will get in. I had one rule: DO NOT GET ARRESTED.

  I hate thinking that I won’t see Camryn for five long, agonizing days. But she needs this time with her friends, just as much as I need this time with the guys.

  I step out of the van and gather Camryn in my arms, pulling her snugly against my chest. She stands on tiptoe, touching her lips to mine. “I love you.”

  My lips brush against hers as I speak. “Love you, too.” Leaving her mouth to nibble on her earlobe, I whisper, “Make sure you call me when your flight lands.”

  “It’s only a few days,” Christian yells from the van. “I’m sure the two of you will survive, for Christ's sake.”

  “Why is he my best friend?” I take a deep breath and turn to look at him over my shoulder.

  Christian gives me the middle finger.

  “Just ignore him,” she whispers against my lips and kisses me again.

  Camryn relaxes, sinking into my cushioning embrace. She takes a deep breath, inhaling my scent. “What are you doing?” I ask curiously.

  She laughs. “I wanted to make sure I get a good whiff before I leave.”

  “You’re crazy, you know that, right?” My voice holds a rasp of excitement.

  Camryn withdraws from my arms, turns and walks slowly, her hips swaying. “You love me and all my crazy,” she calls over her shoulder.

  “That I do. Please, call and let me know you landed safely.”

  “Will do, Mr. Banks,” she says in a sexy voice.

  Smothering a groan, I step back. I want to reach out and pull her back into my arms, but Camryn disappears quickly into the crowd heading toward the rotating door to enter the airport, flanked by Karsen, Lindsey, and Morgan.

  “Jamie,” I hear Camryn's voice calling before I get into the shuttle. Turning blindly, Camryn’s standing by the door waving her hands to get my attention.

  “I love you,” she yells, raising her right hand to her lips and blows me a kiss.

  I lift my fingers to my lips.

  Why did I let Christian pick a departing fight so early? His reasoning was that we could get a full day in Vegas when we arrived. I didn’t agree with him at the time, but I went along with it. Now, I’m glad we did this his way, as we sit at the pool, adult beverages in hand.

  “Criminal” by Disturbed blasts through the speakers as I relax by the pool. Lincoln sits next to me in a lounge chair while Parker and Christian are talking it up with a few chicks in the pool. I take a mouthful of my beer and set it on the ground next to me. Reaching out, I grab the towel to wipe the sweat off my forehead. It is hot as balls here. Everyone says the temperature is high, but swears there isn’t any humidity. I call bullshit. I am sweating my balls off in this heat.

  Christian’s powerful hands yank me to my feet causing me to kick over my beer.

  “Dude, watch the beer.”

  He shrugs his shoulders, “Whatever, I’ll buy you another. Come check this guy’s tattoos out.”

  Turning to follow Christian, the heat of the ground is causing my feet to burn. Quickly I jump in the pool and follow Christian to where a group of guys are standing waist deep in water.

  Christian nods his head at a bald guy with some badass tattoos on both his arms. “Eric, this is my buddy, Jamie.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand.

  He firmly grips my hand and shakes it.

  “Nice work you got there,” he says eyeing my arms.

  “Thanks. Yours is pretty badass yourself,” I say.

  Eric squats down in the pool, water covering his shoulders. “I own a shop off the strip. One of my guys is the only one I trust with a needle near my skin. Dude does great work, but I’m better,” he says with a smirk.

  “We’re in town for a few days. I’ve been thinking of getting a new piece, I’ll have to check it out.”

  “Stop by. Today’s my only day off. I’ll be at the shop the rest of the week. I’m sure I can ink whatever you have in mind.”

  One of the guys in the group is telling Christian where the best spots to gamble are in Sin City. I hope to throw a few bills on the blackjack table while we’re here. A few of the guys are discussing the upcoming UFC Championship fight and asking if we have tickets for that. I’m just loving life right now and along for the ride, even if we didn’t have tickets, this trip’s going to be amazing.

  “You ready to get out of here?” Christian asks.

  “It was nice meeting you. I’ll try and stop by the shop if we have time.”

  Eric nods. “Sounds good.”

  I turn and pull myself out of the pool, preparing myself for the hot dash back to my chair. Reaching for my towel, I dry my arms and chest off, then lean down to wipe the dripping water from my legs. Christian is right behind me when I turn around.

  “This trip is just what I needed, ya know,” I tell him. “The buzz for the fight is all everyone is talking about. I can’t believe you scored tickets for the event.”

  “I called in a few favors. I not only scored tickets, but they are in the third row.” Christian jokingly pats himself on the back. “It’s good to know people in high places.”

  I knock my fist against his chest. “Whatever, dude.”

  Christian reaches down and grabs his towel and water bottle from the ground.

  “Lincoln and Parker already headed up to the room to shower. Get a jump start on tonight,” I say.

  He nods. “I’m gonna stop by the box office and grab the tickets from will call. I’ll meet you in the room.”

  I don’t know who Christian managed to get the tickets from, quite frankly I don’t give a shit. This fight is going to be brutal. McIntyre is defending his title against Cruz and we have third row seats ringside. My boys went all out for this weekend trip and I can’t wait to get this party started.

  The arena is packed. A long-legged, sexy brunette in an American flag bikini holds a large number
card above her head as she sashays around the ring in her heels.

  “Check her out,” Parker says sitting next to me.

  I nod, “You like that type?” I ask.

  Parker is the quiet one in our group. He keeps his thoughts to himself, never one to elaborate too much about himself. I think he does that, so no one questions him about his past.

  When we met, he was living on the streets. I offered him a place to shower and a hot meal. He became one of my close friends. Parker started practicing with Side Effects, and the rest is sort of history.

  “Nah, she’s too skinny for me, but she’s nice to look at,” he shouts, so I can hear him over the crowd.

  The crowd roars and are on their feet when “Down with the Sickness” by Disturbed blasts through the speakers of the arena. No introduction is needed. The spectators know McIntyre is entering the ring. The fighter strides down the aisle like he owns the place.

  Lincoln’s seat is on the end next to Christian. He leans forward and yells “This fight is going to be sick, dude.”

  Best. Night. Ever.

  My head pounds, my neck is stiff. My mouth is so dry, as if I swallowed a cup of sand. I struggle to open my eyes. Where am I? Looking around, I realize I’m lying on the shower floor, covered with a blanket. What the hell happened last night?

  There’s pounding at the door, or is that a knock, I can’t really tell. Before I can yell at the person on the other side to come in, the door opens. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” someone says from the doorway.

  Grumbling, I ignore the person. Maybe they’ll just go away.

  “Jamie, get up, dude. You need to take a shower.”

  “Ten more minutes,” I grumble, pulling the blanket over my head.

  The blanket is snatched off of my body. “Get up. You’re not sleeping all day. Party hard, pay the price.” I rub the sleep out of my eyes and see Lincoln standing over me. He tosses the blanket to the side and walks out the door.

  Slowly, and on shaky legs, I manage to strip out of my pants without face planting the floor. Poker chips fall out of my pocket and roll across the marble tile. I turn on the shower and step in closing the door behind me. When the water hits my body, a hiss escapes my lips. The water scalds my body, the pounding of the water like a jackhammer in my brain.

  Last night is fuzzy. I remember the fight. McIntyre kicked Cruz’s ass, securing his second win against the fighter. I remember going to the casino and playing blackjack for a while, then we ventured to Hakkasan, one of the top night clubs in Vegas. The line was ridiculous but Lincoln knows the owner, so we got VIP treatment. I consumed more liquor last night than I have in my entire life.

  Memories of last night are extremely hazy. I don’t recall leaving the club, or even how I got back to the hotel. The water streams down my body, loosening up the tight muscles I have from sleeping on the hard-tiled floor. What the hell is this? On my chest is a giant dick drawn in red marker.

  Squirting some shampoo in my palms, I massage it into my scalp, then try to furiously scrub away the one-eyed snake that’s staring at me from my sternum. After scrubbing my body for five minutes straight, my skin is raw. The outline of the dick is still visible on my chest, though, just lighter. Whoever is responsible for this is dead when I get my hands on them. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back, letting the water stream down my body rinsing the suds and the fog away. Opening the opulent shower door, I step out of the shower and dry off quickly wrapping the towel tightly around my waist.

  When I exit the bathroom, Parker and Lincoln are sitting at the table near the window eating breakfast. In that moment, realizing I’m starved, I snatch a French toast stick off Parker’s plate and a hash brown off of Lincoln’s.

  “Do you mind? That was my breakfast, you ass,” Lincoln growls over the rim of his coffee cup.

  “We ordered you your own platter. It’s over there on the tray. It just got here,” Parker nods in the direction of my food.

  With a nod of my head acknowledging him, I nearly collapse into the chair where the tray of food is. I settle in and devour the entire plate. My stomach growls in protest. I need something to absorb the alcohol in my body and these carbs are the magic pill.

  “What time did we get home last night?” I ask.

  “You mean this morning,” Lincoln retorts.

  “Yeah.” I grumble.

  “Around four. We left the club, then hit the strip to grab something to eat at Secret Pizza,” Parker answers.

  I swallow and raise my eyebrows, “We had pizza?”

  Lincoln shrugs, “The Uber driver told us about it. Took us to the Cosmopolitan where that little hidden secret exists. Good New York-style, hand-tossed pizza, just like back home.”

  I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t remember shit about last night. Last thing I can remember is leaving the club.”

  Pointing to my chest, “Who’s responsible for this artwork?”

  Both men keep their heads down and refuse to make eye contact with me.

  A knock at the adjoining door draws my attention. Christian walks in with his swim suit and sunglasses on.

  “Ready to hit the pool,” he yells loudly. His voice bounces off the walls, making my head pound even worse.

  He places his sunglasses on his head and stares at me. “Dude, you look like shit.”

  “Shut up, I’m not in the mood,” I growl.

  His laugh echoes throughout the room. “Our boy here wants to know who is responsible for the artwork on his chest.” Lincoln gloats and points in my direction.

  Christian shrugs matter-of-factly.

  “Did you do this?” I ask and point to my chest.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he taunts.

  “I will rip your dick off if you did this to me,” I bark at Christian.

  “Well, if you weren’t a dick and talked about fucking my sister, then I wouldn’t have to remind you not to be a DICK,” he emphasizes.

  I lean forward, placing my head in my hands. This cannot be happening. My best man, my best friend, drew a dick on my chest. Not only a giant dick, but two balls, as well. He even went so far as to put specks of hair on the balls. He is definitely no Picasso, but his artistic talent speaks volumes right now. "How the hell am I supposed to go to the pool with a giant cock on my chest?”

  Christian laughs. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you you’re an asshole?”

  “I’ve been told that a time or two. Especially when it comes to my sister.” Christian laughs and shrugs his shoulders. He places his sunglasses back on his smug face.

  With that, he turns and heads toward the door. With his hand on the knob he turns before he exits and says, “I reserved cabana five for the day. So, be ready to drink up, boys. It’s a thousand-dollar minimum for the day.”

  My stomach turns when he mentions the words drink up. I don’t think I can handle another drop of liquor today.

  “Please, tell me why he drew this on my chest,” I ask Lincoln.

  Both men laugh. “You were drunk and felt the need to tell us how good Camryn is in bed,” Parker adds.

  I groan and rub my hands through my hair. “Please, tell me I didn’t.”

  “Oh, you did,” Lincoln nods his head.

  God, please kill me before Camryn does.

  “Where to, boys,” the Uber driver asks.

  “Omnia,” Christian tells him.

  Turning right toward the Vegas strip, we head to Caesars Palace. The lights illuminate the night sky, providing an incredible backdrop.

  We’re stuck at a stoplight, Lincoln turns from the front seat shaking his head. “Everyone knows Vegas is the place to go for epic nightclubs. This is one of the high-end clubs in town. A friend of mine owns the place. He hooked us up with a private table on the upper level,” Lincoln says.

  The car pulls up to the drop off point outside of Caesars Palace.

  “From what I hear, the place has multi-levels with a ki
ck ass main level. Each part of the club has different types of music and set ups. The upper level has private rooms, not to mention a roof-top patio overlooking the strip.”

  This is our last night of hitting the strip. Our trip wasn’t quite as long as the girls. We flew out on Friday and head back late tomorrow, which totally blows because, well, it’s Vegas.

  We walk through the casino in search of the club. Signs hang overhead pointing us in the direction of the center of the casino.

  Lincoln bypasses the long line already forming and walks ahead of us to speak with the security guy standing outside the main door. They exchange a few words and the guy steps aside allowing us to enter.

  The rhythmic heart-pounding music blares through the speakers. Immediately I notice the expansive dance floor, mirrors hanging on the walls reflecting the crowds, and leather seats surrounding the outskirts of the place.

  Slipping our way through the crowd, we make our way to the upper level.

  “I heard the DJ roster here is epic. Calvin Harris, Krewella and Afrojack have all been here,” Lincoln yells over the music for us to hear. “At least that’s what Morgan says. You know how she is up on all the club shit and all.”

  “Good choice tonight. This place is on fire,” I yell over the music.

  Throughout the night, the drinks continue to flow. After having already consumed the thousand-dollar requirement by the pool, I’m sticking with Jack and Coke. I plan to keep far away from the shots that Lincoln, Christian, and Parker are tossing back. They all raise their shot glasses and I raise my tumbler. “To Jamie. May you never lose your balls. Not even to Camryn,” Lincoln hollers.

  I tap my glass to Lincoln’s and take a mouthful. “I promise to go into my marriage with my balls intact.”

  Christian shoves Lincoln’s chest. “Dude, really.”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and swipe my screen. Camryn sent me a few pictures of Morgan in a cage hanging from the ceiling. What the hell?

  Under one of the pictures, the caption reads. ‘Things just got quite interesting. Love ya, hope you’re having a blast in Vegas.’