by Tess Oliver
I looked up at him. “Shut up.”
“Yep.”
People were still pouring into Tank’s Gym. The crush of bodies and smell of sweat, cheap after-shave and whatever other gross odors a room full of men could produce made me rethink my decision to take Dray up on his invite. “Hey, nosy friend, put on your human periscope hat and check the room for Dray. I haven’t seen him since we squeezed into this sardine can.”
Clutch looked around. “Don’t see him, but he’s hard to spot in a crowd like this unless he’s in the middle of a brawl. And since he’s running the joint now, those spontaneous fights seem to have taken a backseat to his managerial position. Got to say, I kind of miss those knuckle bruisers.” He glanced over at me. “Fuck, we’re turning into those guys.”
“Who are those guys?”
“Those guys who sip fucking vodka on the rocks and who take their women to reservation-only restaurants and who don’t get into any good bar fights. I sure hope they make dress slacks in size thirty-eight long.”
I lifted a brow at him. “Dress slacks?”
“Yep, can’t sip vodka unless you’re wearing fucking dress slacks.”
I laughed. “The day you wear a pair of slacks, and Dray stops throwing his fist at the slightest provocation, is the day I turn Freefall into a tea shop.”
“There’s Rett,” Clutch said. “And it looks like Dray is following him over here.”
I scooted forward and away from the dude who was talking super loud to his friend about a threesome he was in the night before. His friend didn’t look too inclined to believe him. I was tired of listening to him and having his stale breath cross my face every two seconds. “Don’t know why the hell I thought this would be a good place to hang tonight.” My mood had shifted from feeling completely lost and heartbroken to completely pissed and frustrated, and I had no idea which way to look next. My work day had been busy, but it had been hard keeping my mind on the tattoos. When Cassie, my extremely devious and highly skilled photographer friend, had sent over the incredible picture of Scotyln laughing and cuddling baby goats, I couldn’t stop looking at it. That bittersweet feeling of knowing there was no one in the world for me but her, and at the same time not understanding what was happening between us, threw off my concentration for the rest of the day.
“Hey, glad you guys came,” Dray said. “Place is fucking packed.”
“Yeah, what the hell?” I asked. “You better hope the fire marshal doesn’t make a surprise visit.”
“Thanks, for that,” Dray said. “Like I’m not already fucking stressed enough. These fights were supposed to take place across town, so the place is crawling with douchebags who aren’t locals. And some of them look less than reputable. Just hope I don’t have to put on my bouncer uniform tonight.”
The loudspeaker crackled on overhead. “Dray, we need you at the ticket booth.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “We’re about to start. See you later.” Dray pushed back through the crowd.
Rett was wearing a blue bandana around his neck that his brother zeroed in on instantly. “Hey, Billy the Kid, finished rustling cattle already?”
“As a matter of fact, yeah. You got a problem with my attire?”
Clutch shook his big head. “Nope. Really, Barrett, good job. I’m glad you found something you like to do.”
Rett held back a grin. Recognition from his older brother was like gold to the guy.
We pushed closer to the octagon, but with the press of bodies behind us and the bobbing heads and stretching necks in front of us, it was going to be tough to get a good view of the fight. Clutch usually came in handy for carving a clear path, but even he wasn’t having any luck tonight.
The side doors opened, and we waited for the first pair of fighters to emerge when Dray’s voice came through the loudspeaker. “Would the giant with the oversized head please duck down? No one can see over you.” Dray was up on the catwalk over the office that Tank had built to keep an eye on the place during occasions like this. He was holding the microphone as he smiled down at us through the clutter of heads.
Attention around us spun to Clutch. Clutch’s big arm lifted in the air, and he lifted his middle finger to Dray.
“Would the giant with the big head like to come up here and show me that gesture again?” Dray asked.
“Yes, the giant would,” Clutch yelled back. The exchange was entertaining an otherwise restless crowd, who were now hot, sweaty and anxious for some action. The locals knew that this was just a joke between friends, but the out-of-towners seemed to think an awesome brawl was about to explode between the manager and the oversized spectator.
Clutch shook his head at me. “He sits up there sweet and pretty on his cute, little catwalk while we’re stuck in this festering pool of stink. And if he doesn’t get those fights started soon, shit is going to fly in here.”
“Hey, giant, get your ass up here, and bring those two pretty boys with you. Especially the blond with the bandana.” More laughter. Dray motioned for us to walk over. He lifted the microphone to his mouth. “Unless you prefer to stand down there,” he said in a tone that seemed to be just for our ears, but a room filled with people could hear it. Amused looks turned angry as we made our way through the crowd to the best seats in the house.
Rett smiled back at me. “I guess it pays to know people in high places.”
“Literally.”
We reached the rickety ladder that led to the platform where Dray sat on a metal chair. He’d pulled a second chair and bench up there. “These are the expensive ticket seats,” he said. “Hopefully this rusted sheet of metal will hold all of us, otherwise we could end up flattening an entire row of people underneath.”
He yanked out a small ice chest. “Even brought some refreshments.” He pulled out beers and tossed one to each of us.
“I feel like a goddamn VIP at the Super Bowl,” I said. “This is better. Thanks, man.”
“I take care of my own,” Dray said. We lifted our cans and tapped them together. “Let’s drink one for Nana.”
“For Nana,” I said, and Clutch and Rett followed.
***
The evening had been going smoothly, but Dray had been keeping his eye on a sketchy looking group who’d come from across town. Their guys kept losing, and a cloud of tension was rising over them like a cloud of hot stink. Each one was carrying a flask, and they were taking as many swigs as their fighters were taking hits. Two of them had shaved heads that were covered in some pretty shabby looking ink. Their two buddies both looked like the kind of assholes who would eat kittens for lunch.
Dray leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. His hands were tight in fists, which was never a good sign. “I’m fucking glad to be getting out of here for a few days.”
“Are you going with Cassie up to Yosemite for that photo shoot this week?” I asked.
“Yep, she talked me into it. Tank said he had the week free. I need a break from this place. And something tells me, after tonight, I’ll really need it.”
As the pair of fighters entered the ring, the four assholes elbowed their ways through the spectators to get a better view. Angry looks and cussing followed them, but most people got out of their way.
“I know they walked in with this fighter. Hope he has some skills,” Dray said. “Otherwise, this ain’t going to be pretty. Last time I guest host for another club. We’ve got some regulars here at Tank’s, who sometimes need their asses straightened out, but it never goes further than that.”
Rett looked over at him. “That’s because they know the manager.”
Dray nodded. “True. My reputation as being a bit explosive does help.”
“A bit explosive?” Clutch repeated. “Shit, if you were Mount Vesuvius this place would be buried under layers of ash already.”
Rett and I laughed. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out. It was a text from Scotlyn. Just seeing her name sent a rush of adrenaline through me.
“What
time will you be home?”
“Not sure.” I typed back.
“I think we need to talk.”
“Yeah.” I had no idea if her suggestion to talk was good or bad. I’d always known what Scotlyn was thinking or how she was feeling, but I’d lost that thread. I had no idea what was going on in her mind, and it was fucking with my head plenty.
“I guess I’ll see you later,” she wrote back.
“All right.” I returned the phone to my pocket.
Clutch looked over at me. “Everything all right?”
“Wish I fucking knew.” There was no way I was going to be able to pay attention to anything now. I leaned forward and looked over at Dray. “You know, I think I’m going to head home. Things haven’t been too smooth this week, and I need to see what’s going on.”
Dray looked at Clutch. “Do you fucking believe this? The Heartbreak Kid—” He pointed at me and then at Rett. “And his heir to the heartbreak throne. One is running home to the girl to see how he can beg his way back into her panties, and the other is wearing a fancy neckerchief just to make his lady happy.” Sometimes Dray didn’t know when to shut up, but he was always good at sensing when he’d crossed the line. He noticed my face. “Look, bro, I’m just kidding. This is a lousy bunch of fighting marshmallows tonight anyhow. Go home and make nice with Scottie.” He looked at Rett. “You and your fancy bandana— I’ve got nothing to say.”
Rett shrugged. “That’s because you are fucking clueless.” He reached up to the bandana and gave it a tug. “If you knew some of the things I’ve done with this handy square of cloth, then you’d be shutting your big trap and begging me for ideas.”
Dray’s eyes went wide. “What? You tying her up?”
Rett didn’t answer, but a smug grin crossed his face.
Dray got down on a knee and bowed low. “My lord, you have not disappointed me after all, and later, I want to be filled in on techniques.”
Clutch rolled his eyes my direction. “What do you want to bet the next time we see Dray, he’s got one of those damn bandanas around his neck?”
I looked at Dray. His eyes were gleaming. It seemed Rett had set his dirty mind into full motion. An angry shout from below carried our attention back to the floor.
Dray and Rett stood. A grunt of sympathy rolled through the crowd. “Shit, their fighter is out. I better get down there.”
Clutch looked up at him. “Do you want us to come along?”
The people below seemed to vibrate with agitation suddenly, and the first shove match had begun. “What do you think?” Dray asked.
We got up and followed him down to the floor. I looked back at Clutch. “Don’t bother looking for those extra long slacks. We aren’t those guys, yet.”
Dray shook his head as we reached the edge of onlookers. “It’s like those unwanted relatives at Thanksgiving. You work hard to plan a nice, cozy event, and they come in and fuck things up.” He looked at us. “If we get those four out, then I think things will calm down.” He whistled to a couple of Tank’s regulars, big dudes with knuckles that nearly dragged the cement floor. They lumbered over with hungry looks in their eyes. Dray took a deep breath. “Let’s go.” He plunged through the flurry of fists and elbows and we followed.
Chapter 10
Scotlyn
After a long day at the barn, we were beat. Cassie and I stopped off to eat on the way home. The active day in the fresh air and the talk with Cassie had helped restore some of my appetite.
I’d showered, pulled on a long t-shirt, that I had basically stolen from Nix, and dropped onto the couch with my class notes. Nix hadn’t been super enthusiastic in the few texts he’d sent back, but I knew he was in the middle of watching fights. I was anxious for him to get home, and even though I tried to concentrate on studying, I seemed to be reading the same lines over and over again, and everything was bouncing off my muddled brain. I stretched out on the couch, and with a full stomach for the first time in weeks, I drifted off into a deep sleep.
An hour later, the front door lock clicked open. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I placed my books and notes on the coffee table and stood from the couch just as Nix stepped inside the house.
“Your face,” I gasped. There was a cut running parallel with his eyebrow and his bottom lip was swollen. He didn’t say a word but watched me through long lashes as I assessed the damage. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Dray just needed help bouncing a few guys from Tank’s. I met a flying, ring-covered fist somewhere in the confusion.”
“Sit on the couch, and I’ll get the first aid box and some ice.” I turned to leave, but he took hold of my arm. Slowly, I faced him, and immediately, traitorous tears filled my eyes.
“Scotlyn, what’s going on?”
I bit my bottom lip. He shook his head. “Don’t you dare suck in that bottom lip, baby. Talk to me.”
I took a breath. “Let me at least get something to clean that cut and then I’ll talk. I promise.”
I hurried into the bathroom and reached beneath the cupboard for the kit I’d put together for occasions like this. It seemed they happened often whenever Dray was involved. My hands shook as I took out the antibacterial ointment, sterile gauze and bandages.
Nix was sitting on the couch when I returned. The anguish in his face did nothing to bolster my courage. I knew he wanted to understand why I hadn’t brought up the proposal again, but I would start with the easier, silly subject of me acting like a jealous fool.
I put the supplies on the table and knelt next to him. He turned to face me, and almost instantly, his hands went around my bare thighs. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths as his palms smoothed over my legs.
I put some ointment on the gauze. He winced as I wiped it over the cut. “It’s almost deep enough to need stitches.”
“No stitches.” His hands trailed up to my panties, and a low groan rolled up from his chest. “Shit, it has been so fucking long since I’ve touched you, I’m aching all over from it.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I lied to you the other morning. Believe it or not, I was planning to climb into bed with you before you’d even suggested it.” I reached for some more gauze.
“What stopped you?”
I smiled. “It’s something really stupid, and I’m embarrassed about it now.”
While he waited for my explanation, he dragged my panties down and caressed my naked bottom. I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes as he leaned forward and kissed my neck. “This makes first aid a little tough.”
“Your story,” he said, as his mouth moved along my neck.
“I picked up your sweatshirt. It smelled strongly of a girl’s perfume.”
He pulled his mouth away and peered up at me.
“It’s all right. Cassie told me the new girl at the shop wears a lot of perfume and that she ran into you as she came around the corner.”
He lowered his hands. His expression hardened. “You thought I cheated on you?”
I tried to laugh it away. I lifted the bandage to his face, but he blocked it with his hand. “Scotlyn, did you seriously believe that I would cheat on you?”
The words were getting stuck again, and his harsh expression wasn’t helping. I swallowed the dryness in my throat. I had to stop shrinking into silence every time things got rough. It frustrated Nix, but it was even more aggravating for me.
I met his hurt gaze with mine. I took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Nix. What would you do if you picked up my shirt and it smelled of another man’s aftershave?”
“I’d go out and fucking kill the man who touched you.” He shoved the coffee table away with his foot. He had obviously just come from a testosterone, adrenaline pumped evening, and all of it was still coursing through his veins. He walked to the center of the room and raked his fingers through his hair as if he was deciding what to punch. He turned back to me, and the look on his face made me sit back hard on the couch. “But I wouldn’t be pissed at you, Scotlyn, because I wo
uld never think that you cheated on me.”
I blinked back tears and stood up. “That’s because you’re so fucking confident, Mr. Heartbreaker, that you think no girl would dare cheat on the always loved and admired Nix Pierce.” I hadn’t meant any of it, of course, but I’d found the courage to fight back, and now stupidity flowed to widen the river bed between us. “I don’t have that much confidence. After everything that’s happened to me, I’m always expecting the worst. I figure what’s another layer of heartbreak when I’ve already endured everything shitty life has to offer.”
He pointed at me. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to pull out your ammo of ‘life has been bad to me’ to cover for the fact that you don’t trust me. I’ve never done anything but love you, Scotlyn. I’ve never given you one fucking shred of reason not to trust me.”
Earlier in the evening, I’d practically laughed this off, and I’d been sure he would too. I’d always known Nix so well. How could I not have seen that this would hurt him. “I’m sorry, Nix. I don’t know how to take it all back.” And that was it. My throat filled with sand like it always did when silence sucked in around me. I couldn’t utter another word. I ran into the bedroom and shut the door behind me. I slid down against the wall and wrapped my arms around my knees and brought them to my chest. At least the unhelpful rivers of tears had stopped. I just didn’t have any more to shed. I thought this was going to be the night that Nix and I started to mend what we had, but I seemed to have only succeeded in ripping us further apart.
Chapter 11
Nix
I peeled myself off the couch. The fight the night before had left me with cuts and bruises, but the argument with Scotlyn had hurt way more. I’d heard her leave the house, but I didn’t get up to talk to her. I was still sorting shit out, trying to decide if I was the one being the asshole or if I truly had a reason to be pissed. I could only assume she’d gone to the coffee shop to meet her study group. There was a text from Clutch to call him and a voicemail from Stormy.
