by Alexx Andria
But that wall of man was the only thing standing between me and an uncertain future.
And I knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.
I didn’t know why I knew it.
I just did.
I could feel it in my bones.
Damon was hardwired differently than most men I knew.
I mean, at first I thought he was pretty basic, a dumb jock who’d been punched too many times in the head, but now I realized Damon hid a lot beneath that rough exterior.
How did I know?
Hell, I couldn’t answer that.
But it was watching him in action, going toe-to-toe with a man equally as bad Davonte, putting it all on the line to save our asses that gave me a brief glimpse of clarity.
I didn’t know anything about him and I was stymied by my need to know more.
I didn’t know if he had brothers or sisters, a family somewhere.
A discomforting thought occurred to me, what if he was married? Did he have kids tucked away?
And what did I care if he was married?
I mean, the question raised more questions but that’s not why I was bothered.
I didn’t like the thought of Damon being attached to someone else.
Without realizing it, my face screwed into a frown and Terrance caught it.
“You got something to add, honey?” he asked.
Damon caught my gaze and I immediately shook my head, appearing to be the obedient pigeon.
Terrance chuckled, buying my act. “You’ve trained the bitch well,” he said with approval, nearly causing me to bite my tongue in half, before returning to business. “All right, lucky for you, your intel is in line with what I’ve been hearing as well through my own channels.”
To his credit, Damon remained chill and went with it, as if Terrance’s admission wasn’t a total surprise, seeing as we were spinning total bullshit on our end. “And? What are you going to do about it?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“How useful your source is.”
Everything hinged on Chantel unwittingly playing her part. Hopefully, Chantel’s thirst to be free of Davonte was stronger than her sense of fair play.
Not that Davonte was playing fair in any sense of the word if he was sucking up nearly half her profits each month.
But letting sleeping dogs lie and all that, was a powerful antidote to outrage.
Damon scribbled a number on a partially soiled napkin and slid it over to Terrance. “Call this number. Arrange a meeting. Her name is Chantel and she owns Pussywillow. She’s real interested in talking to you.”
Terrance accepted the napkin with a smirk, his shark gaze ever sharp, ever menacing. “We’ll see.” Then, he said, “You still haven’t said what you want out of this deal.”
“I want The Underground,” Damon answered and I could only stare in frozen silence. That wasn’t part of the deal. I wanted to burn The Underground down. Damon wanted to run it, apparently.
“With Davonte gone, I’ll clean house. You and me have no beef. I don’t want The Underground used to run drugs and shit. You can have all of Davonte’s territory, just leave me The Underground.”
My offer intrigued Terrance. “A businessman, huh? You got the chops to run a successful gym?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Terrance chuckled, intrigued by my offer. “A lot to think about.”
I struggled with my need to rip into Damon for throwing his curveball. I shouldn’t care what he did if we made it out of this deal alive but I did care.
And I hated the idea of him running The Underground.
As far as I was concerned, the whole motherfucking operation could burn to the ground and I’d dance as it disintegrated.
Damon rose and I followed his lead. “Let me know what you decide. Time is ticking.”
He didn’t wait to be dismissed, simply walked away knowing I’d remain close on his heels.
I don’t think I was actually breathing the entire time because the minute we cleared the building and were safe in his truck, I expelled a loud breath, sucking in oxygen wildly.
“What the fuck just happened?” I exploded, once we were clear. “You never said anything about wanting to run the gym. This is bullshit. I told you from the start I wanted to ruin everything associated with cage fighting. My brother fucking died on that gym floor. How can you possibly— I can’t believe that just happened. You motherfucker!”
“Cool it,” he growled at my hysterics. “I never said I was going to destroy The Underground. I was in on your plan to take down Davonte. Get it straight.”
I blinked back tears. He was right, he hadn’t said he was on board with that part but I, sort of, assumed he’d come around to my way of thinking. God, did I feel stupid.
“I guess you’re not the man I thought you were.”
“Princess, I’m the same man I ever was. Now stop acting like a spoiled brat and listen up. We got one shot to make this work and we got loose ends to tie up before it blows up in our face.”
I wanted to scream some more at Damon.
I was hurt for feeling betrayed and embarrassed for feeling anything at all for the man.
I mean, what was I thinking? So he had a talented tongue…it wasn’t as if you could build a relationship on a man’s ability to eat pussy!
But he was right.
We had one shot to make this happen so that meant I had to suck it up and move past his sudden left turn.
I closed my eyes briefly to regroup, bottling up my hurt and disappointment for another time. Reopening my eyes, I said, “If Chantel doesn’t back up our story…”
“We’re fucked,” he finished for me.
“Yeah,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Do you think she’s going to take the bait? I mean, how badly does she want out from beneath Davonte’s thumb?”
“Don’t know but it was the only card we had, so we played it.”
“That’s reassuring,” I grumbled. “That’s like throwing down a sixteen in Blackjack and staying, hoping to God Lady Luck wasn’t about to fuck you in the ass because you could feel in your bones that the next card coming your way was probably a queen.”
“Pretty much.”
My nerves were pulled tight. His staccato answers weren’t helping.
“Are you made of fucking rock? Don’t you ever show any emotion? I’m freaking out right now and you’re acting like we just made a grocery run. No big deal.”
That touched a nerve.
“What do you want me to say, Charlie? Yeah, we’re standing in gasoline and someone just tossed us a match? Because yeah, that’s the long and short of it, baby. The chances of either of us coming out the other side alive, is slim at best, but I ain’t going down without a helluva fight.”
Of course he would go down swinging. Damon didn’t know any other way.
And even though I was hella pissed at him for pulling that stunt back there, I was secretly grateful that he was one tough motherfucker.
“Don’t call me, baby,” I shot back, even though I shivered at the sound of that word on his lips. There was something so goddamn sensual about everything he said and did, even when he was being a royal asshole. “I never asked for any of this.”
“Neither did I, sweetheart.”
His caustic response did little to quell the tiny bubbles percolating in my blood. My whole body felt alive, electrified.
Tiny pulses danced down my exposed skin, drawing awareness to every square inch of my body.
Being near Damon was like sitting next to a live wire.
“So what do we do until we hear back from Terrance?” I asked.
“Head back to the motel, lay low. Maybe order pizza.”
I didn’t want to do that.
Locked together in an enclosed space…with a bed…I didn’t trust the set-up.
The tingling in my nerve endings was a warning sign that I wasn’t thinking straight and I didn’t want to do something stupi
d — like sleep with Damon.
My gaze shifted to the man. Yeah, because sleep is what he’d want to do with you.
“I could use a drink,” I said, desperate to avoid that motel room in my current state. “How about a beer or something?”
“We can’t afford to be seen together,” he said, deflating the hope in my voice.
“I can’t sit in that motel room for hours. I’ll go insane.”
“Are you always this dramatic?” he asked.
I balked. “Dramatic? Who’s being dramatic? And excuse me, for having an ounce of emotion when my life is on the line. Not everyone was born without the ability to emote.”
“You like big words, don’t you?”
I refused to respond. He was baiting me. “Is it your intention to piss me off so you can spend the night at the bar again? Maybe you want to snuggle up with Chantel and make sure she’s giving you more good intel.”
“Maybe.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re not even going to try and deny it?” Damn, if I couldn’t keep the disappointment from my tone but I quickly recovered with a flippant shrug. “Whatever. Maybe you should. I mean, some women are into guys like you.”
“Guys like me.”
“Yeah. Big, dumb and…well, just big. Has anyone ever told you that you have a tendency to suck the air from a room?”
“No.”
“Well, you do.”
“Thanks for the heads up.” Then he added, “I’m not dumb.”
I shot him a quick look. Had I hurt his feelings? I didn’t think it was possible.
But I guess it was rude to call someone stupid.
Even though I wanted to slap him silly, I offered a mumbled apology because my grandparents raised me better than I was acting. “I shouldn’t have said that. My nerves are on edge and I’m hungry.”
“You’re hangry.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “Yeah, I guess I am. Maybe that pizza isn’t a terrible idea.”
“I get not wanting to go back to the motel to hide out like rats but if someone sees us hanging out, word’s going to get back to Davonte and we’re both gonna be fucked.
Right now I’m supposed to be looking for you, not sharing a cozy, candlelit dinner.”
A sudden thrill arced through me. Damon in a suit? No, I couldn’t see that. Those broad shoulders weren’t meant to be caged. In fact, so far the best look on Damon had been naked.
And wet.
Okay, so I might’ve snuck a look when he’d exited the bathroom after his shower.
Sue me, I’m human.
“I can’t really see you in a suit,” I admitted, biting my lip from smiling too hard. “I mean, you’re so…”
“Big?”
“Yeah.”
His lips twisted in a brief sardonic smile that did weird things to my belly until he said, “Not since my ma died. She was real lady. Not sure how she got stuck with a beast like me for a kid.”
That one statement opened up a million questions. Should I ask? Was it my business?
Would probing into his personal space violate some unspoken agreement between us?
It was the first real glimpse into Damon’s private world.
Probably best to just keep my mouth shut and let that admission slide.
Fuck it, I wanted to know more.
“What was your mom like?”
“The opposite of me, in every way.”
I chewed on his answer for a minute. I didn’t have to ask for more details. Damon’s mouth seemed to want to share, even if he didn’t.
“Ma wasn’t from this life. She, uh, was sweet and gentle. Kind.”
I tried to picture that kind of woman giving birth to a man like Damon.
A flush of private shame heated my cheeks when I realized my vision of what Damon’s family must’ve been like was nearly caveman-ish.
My tongue was tied. Each time I opened my mouth to utter something — anything — I swallowed it.
I didn’t know why he was sharing something so private about himself but I wasn’t going to cheapen the moment but saying something flip or cruelly blunt.
Maybe it was his way of making up for that curveball.
I didn’t need to ask to know that his mother was dead.
I wanted to know more but I wasn’t going to push.
Besides, my curiosity would only lead to more trouble.
Damon and I may have fostered some sort of relationship out of necessity but we both knew that as soon as that need was gone, so was our strange alliance.
Against my better judgment, my gaze darted to the man driving silently through empty streets, his mind elsewhere, his thoughts private.
Old scars marred his face from past fights in the cage.
His knuckles bore the same damage, though I could only imagine the true ruin beneath the skin.
Most men didn’t stay in the cage for as long as Damon.
It was a young man’s game.
Damon was like an old bull, battle-worn but still mean as fuck.
Cranky because his bones ached.
But the layers of muscle cording his body were still hard, steel beneath the battered flesh.
And even though Damon didn’t remember charging through Davonte’s men like a hot knife through butter, I did.
It was imprinted in my memory — a thing of terrible wonder.
I’d never seen the beauty or elegance of violence until that moment.
The truth was…I was struggling to remember why it repulsed me.
Damon…what have you done to me?
23
Damon
I wasn’t a sharer by nature.
I preferred to keep to myself.
Better that way.
I hadn’t meant to tell Charlie about my mother.
That shit was sacred.
But I guess walking the razor’s edge of fuck-all made a person share more than they might otherwise.
We could both die choking on our own blood by morning.
Chantel could fuck us both and decide that the devil she knew was better than the devil she didn’t.
Davonte was ass-fucking her business but at least she always knew what to expect.
Terrance could be ten times worse for all she knew.
I understood the risk.
I knew it was a gamble with crappy odds.
But like I said to Charlie…it’d been the only play we had so I took it.
While I’d said that returning to the motel seemed safest, that’s not where we ended up.
I didn’t relish the idea of sitting in a tight space with Charlie for hours either.
The girl made my insides vibrate.
I could smell her skin and taste her sweetness.
My fingers itched to spread her legs and feast again.
Instead, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, determined to keep my distance.
But something inside me squirmed and thrashed in protest, banging around until I thought I might lose my mind if I didn’t feel Charlie pressed tightly against my skin.
I didn’t deserve someone like Charlie.
Neither did Davonte.
Charlie reminded me of Ma in that she was better than this lifestyle could offer.
Ma had fallen in love with a fighter and it’d been her downfall.
Disowned by her family, thrown into the rough life of the Detroit slums, often bewildered by the violence and chaos that made up each day in a world owned by poverty, Ma had been a rare flower trying to survive through a crack in the pavement.
And I wanted to tell her story to someone.
No, not just someone…to Charlie.
I guess that’s how we ended up in Ma’s old neighborhood, eating convenience store hot dogs that’d been rolling in their own grease for likely hours because they were chewy and disgusting but we were starved and they tasted incredible.
“Where are we?” Charlie asked, realizing we weren’t anywhere near the shitty motel we were staying at. She
wiped the grease from her hands and mouth with a paper thin napkin. “Good God, the houses here are monstrous. Can you imagine having money like that? It’s almost obscene.”
I grunted in agreement but kept driving, winding through the tony neighborhood, my beat-up truck nearly screaming that I wasn’t a resident.
After my dad died, Ma used to drive me here, to where she’d grown up, but we never stopped, just drove through like hungry visitors, tourists who didn’t belong.
Fuck yeah, we didn’t belong.
Mansions lined the street.
It was like walking into a parallel world where nothing made sense.
Ma had walked away from all this? For my dad?
I couldn’t make heads or tails of such a sacrifice.
Because of the rift, I knew nothing of my mother’s side of the family and they seemed fine with knowing nothing about me.
No one had shown up for her funeral.
It’d just been me and the priest.
Quiet.
As if Ma had never existed.
I wanted to tell Charlie my mother grew up in this place, that she’d been among the obscenely rich that she and I knew nothing about but that would raise questions I couldn’t answer.
Would reveal soft spots I’d spent a lifetime protecting.
Besides, it wasn’t my world.
Never had been.
Never would be.
Diamond stars punctured the night sky and a nearly full moon bathed everything in a milky glow.
A few moments later, with my mother’s childhood home behind us, I pulled up to an empty park and shut off the truck.
Children’s play equipment gleamed in the ghostly light as the temperature continued to drop, slowly freezing any moisture that remained on the cold metal.
The park was older, probably one of many forgotten by city planners.
Gang graffiti marred any surface big enough to tag and no one had bothered to clean it up.
“Why’d we come here?” Charlie asked.
I shrugged. “You said you didn’t want to go back to the motel just yet.”
She acknowledged my answer with a nod. “Why this place?”
“My mother used to bring me here sometimes.”
“To this park?”
“Yeah.” I shifted in my seat, my gaze drifting over the eery decay. “It used to be nicer.”
