Diablo's Throne MMA Books 1-3

by HJ Bellus

  “That was a first,” I whisper into her neck.

  “Shit.” Her arms wrap tighter around me. “Those were good Pop-Tarts.”

  I pinch her side and feel her squirm under me. “You’re an asshole.”

  Layla sits up and leans back until we are face to face. I feel her legs wrap around me, hooking right above my bare ass. The warmth of her palms cupping my face makes my fucking world perfect. I drop my forehead to hers and let my eyes shut. I should be freaking the fuck out about forgetting a condom, but the thought doesn’t scare me as it should.

  “Cruz,” Layla whispers.

  I answer her with a grunt, keeping my eyes closed as the rest of my body relaxes into hers.

  “I’m falling in love with you.”

  The words are sweet and tender, striking me with a force that I’ve never experienced before. It takes me long moments before I reply. Layla doesn’t tense up or freak when I don’t respond immediately.

  “Good.” I pause. “Because I’m already in love with you.”

  “Open your eyes.” Layla strokes my cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

  I listen to her and stare into her whiskey-colored eyes that have morphed into my entire universe.

  “Thanks for the Pop-Tarts.”

  “Thanks for the lick.” I wink.

  Chapter 16

  Layla

  The day has been chill, well, since our breakfast. That was intense. Best breakfast ever. After the epic Pop-Tart buffet of all buffets, we showered together, watched a few movies, then took a walk around downtown.

  Cruz insisted on buying me new workout pants that fit properly since I got to pick the movies we watched. I think I shocked him with my Bruce Willis fascination. He had a slight heart attack when I tried on skin-tight yoga pants and tried to convince me to get baggy sweats with a cinch drawstring. He even growled at the other men in the store, which made me giggle and wiggle my ass even more.

  He’s protective and obsessed with me. It’s a potent combination that makes me love him. Yes, love him. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine that I’d fall for a fighter, but I have.

  “Thanks for the amazing day.” Cruz leans down and kisses me on the forehead.

  “Anytime, mi amor.” I match his move and reach around and smack his rock-hard ass.

  “Going to get in the zone for a few hours.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip wanting nothing more than to have Cruz rip off my clothes and ravage me right here on the front steps of my childhood home.

  “If you must go,” I whine.

  “Stop, mi amor.” His voice is deep and husky doing all sorts of very naughty things to my panties.

  “We could make out in my room. It would be like we were back in high school sneaking around.”

  “I don’t need Boss neutering me before my match.”

  “Fine, officer fun cop.” I smile up at him and kiss his lips.

  Before I have the door open to my papi’s house, Cruz clutches my wrist. “Layla, be smart tonight. Don’t go anywhere you can be cornered.”

  “Are you threatening me, champ?” I put my other hand on my hip. “Like you’ll ravage me if you have the chance.”

  “I’m fucking serious.”

  Those three words vibrate out of his chest. His voice is full of menace and worry, creating a potent mixture of pissed off. I stiffen at the sudden mood change in Cruz.

  “O-okay,” I stutter out.

  “Ash and the Titans will be there. They’re fucking assholes. I don’t trust them.”

  His hardened features slowly morph into worry and despair. I can see his thoughts playing out across his face. It guts me. I let go of the doorknob and cup his cheeks, reaching up, so I’m nose to nose with him.

  “I promise, baby. I won’t do anything dumb.” I pause and correct myself. “Tonight. Because you know it’s me we’re talking about. Cruz, right now at this point in my life, you mean everything to me. You picked me up when I was down. You’ve made me smile, laugh, and live. I’m here for you. Get your head in the fight tonight.”

  Our lips seal together. An electric current runs through both of us as we open up to each other. Our tastes mingle becoming one. I take time running my tongue along his lower lip and open up further for him to explore. I pull away when I have the distinctive urge to reach down and grab his dick pressing into my lower abdomen.

  “I’m very serious about the part of getting your head right for the fight. I don’t date losers.” I tap the end of his nose.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat startles me. We both look down to see my papi standing on the steps. Cruz nods with a slight blush, showing his hand was in the cookie jar, then he discreetly adjusts his hard cock. God, how I wish his hand was in that damn cookie jar.

  “Boss.” He nods, stepping further back from me.

  “Cruz.”

  “Just heading out, sir.”

  “Good damn idea.” Papi passes me heading into the house.

  I turn to see Cruz has made it down the flight of stairs and is standing at the bottom. The man is a beast yet graceful as hell.

  “Bye.” I offer him a finger wave.

  He sends me a wink and shakes his head. “God, Layla, you make feel like a goddamn teenager.”

  “You love it!”

  “You know I do.” He turns and starts jogging toward his small apartment off the gym.

  The man is a fucking machine. He makes jogging goddamn downright sexy and panty melting. His body is perfection down to each sculpted muscle. I’ve seen him in the gym with a mask he wears when he’s in training and fighting mode. When he’s in that mode, the man is a beast with built-up aggression for days. To most, it’s not noticeable, but to me it’s obvious. His eyes grow a shade darker, the veins in his neck throb, and there’s no warmth surrounding him. He’s a machine.

  The shower is running when I close the door behind me. Score for me, no lecture from Papi. He may act all grumpy and pissed-off, but he’s all bark and no bite.

  I flop back on the bed, deciding not to shower and enjoy the scent of Cruz covering me. His woodsy cologne floats around me since he kept me tucked under his arm all day long.

  I decide to fire up my MacBook and cruise Facebook. I haven’t been on it much since returning home. If I think about it too long, it’s a damn sad fact. Facebook always reminds me about everything from my life before returning home. I don’t miss an ounce of it.

  At one point, I thought nursing and traveling would be the end game for me. Not anymore. I’m certain riding Cruz’s handsome dick is my end game.

  Yes, his dick is so pretty.

  I clench my thighs together thinking about it as the homepage loads. The man’s bulge is undeniable even when he’s not excited. It’s my favorite part to admire. I notice I have several message alerts and decide to go for them first. There’s over twenty; over half are from Tyler.

  Then the ugly bitch called guilt creeps into my life. Tyler and I were a no-strings-attached type deal. I know for a fact he’s a player, so why in the hell am I feeling this? Because at one point I thought I wanted more.

  Tyler: Hey, how’s it going?

  Tyler: Layla Lou Lou, are you there?

  Tyler: Do I need to send search and rescue?

  Tyler: I miss you so does my dick! I hope things are going well.

  They go on and on, coupled with dick pics that do him no justice. I can’t even call what Tyler and I did sex compared to the magic Cruz bestows. It takes several minutes and even more typed and backspaced messages before I decide on one.

  Me: Hey. Sorry been super busy with things. I’m good.

  I really should’ve typed, “Been super busy with a real man who treats me great and doesn’t fuck me for a no strings relationship. Thanks for the memories now buzz off. PS—He has a good six inches on you.”

  What the hell is wrong with me? I was a damn fool for a whole year with Tyler. I put up with disrespect and him using me because I didn’t know what true lov
e felt like. I cringe when I see the bubbles dancing on the bottom of the screen.

  Tyler: About time. I was ready to fly out there and get my girl.

  Is he serious? He knew about the funeral. I had posted a status update on the time and place to let local friends know and not one single fucking word or call. But it seems he had an ample supply of dick pics to send my way. I feel sick all of a sudden. It all hits me at once. Tyler didn’t use me. I let him use me. There’s a big-ass difference.

  Me: No need. I’ll be here awhile and am doing great.

  Tyler: Figured you’d texted me. My phone broke and haven’t replaced it yet.

  Um, no actually, I haven’t thought about texting you.

  Me: I’ve been super busy, Tyler. I’m staying here and wish you the best in the future.

  Tyler: Are you fucking serious, Layla?

  His harsh words catch me by surprise. I have no idea why. Hell, it’s Tyler in his full greedy mode. I blame it on being treated like a queen from Cruz. The bubbles explode at the bottom of the screen as he types and sends message after message.

  Tyler: Thought I meant more than just a fuck buddy to you. Jesus, at least thought we were friends.

  Tyler: You know what? Fuck this. I’ve been there for you over the last year. If you couldn’t get a fucking clue, I wanted more than have a nice life.

  My fingers strum with energy to rip into his ass. Is he delusional? He never wanted more; in fact, he was always shoving me out of bed after he got his rocks off. That escalated quickly. I click in the message window to let the ass know I read the messages.

  My Latina temper is dying to come out and play. Tyler is way out of line. He bought me coffee on occasion and picked up my dry cleaning once. If the man thinks that consists of coming onto a person or committing to a long-term relationship then he needs his fucking head checked.

  “Good riddance, Whack-a-doodle,” I whisper.

  It takes me a matter of seconds and no guilt or shame as I block his ass on Facebook and from my life without a second thought.

  “Layla.”

  I look up to Papi who’s a handsome old fox. He’s decked out in his fancy gym gear all ready for fight night. His salt and pepper hair gleams in the light, his stoic stature in force. He’s ready to lead his boys in war.

  “Papi, I think you’ve reached silver fox status.”

  He shakes his head then runs his hand through his hair. He’s a looker if he’d put himself out there. I don’t think that will ever happen; his heart was permanently shattered.

  “You ready?” He leans on the door jam.

  “I’ll be down in about twenty minutes.”

  “Don’t want you going alone.”

  “Papi.” I roll my eyes. “Ash and his crew are just dicks. They’re not going to hurt me right out in public.”

  “Let me rephrase this then.” He saunters over to the bed taking a seat. “I want to walk into the gym tonight united. You haven’t been around the gym in forever. I’ve missed you. With Madre gone…”

  I reach over and grab his hand, cutting off his words. The hurt in his voice kills me. “Nothing would make me prouder, Papi. Give me a few.”

  I make quick work of changing, forgoing a sexy outfit. Tonight is about Cruz and his need to focus. I check myself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, smoothing out my black Diablo’s gym shirt and tugging down on my shorts. My white Converse and out of control messy bun set off the outfit.

  We walk down to the gym in silence. The spring night air is refreshing with so much stress floating around us. I clutch Papi’s hand, letting him know we will get through this together one step at a time.

  The gym is already bustling with excitement. The fighters who aren’t scheduled tonight are manning the tickets, concessions, and seating area perfectly as we walk in. It’s a well-oiled machine. All heads turn when Papi clears his throat. I see his chest swell with pride. This man has dedicated years, blood, sweat, tears, and his life to his legacy, making it even a sweeter redemption.

  Even though I know he’s back in the locker room, it doesn’t stop me from scanning the room for Cruz. He has a dozen more fights like this before he gets a shot at the title in Vegas. That’s if he wins all of them.

  Nerves are real. Like a storm threatening to take me down. Now it’s Papi gripping my hand trying to comfort me. We stride side by side to the edge of the cage. I don’t see her until it’s too late, but we stroll right by the woman who gave birth to me, and Ash’s dad.

  The scent of her perfume hits me hard. It’s the exact smell I remember from when I was a little girl. I used to think it was the sweetest smell in the world and would sneak into her bathroom to steal a spray. Now it makes my stomach churn in disgust. I can tell myself all day long that I hate her. And I’d be a liar. A little girl, no matter how ugly the story is, will always have some love for her mom.

  Papi leans over and plucks a curl from my face. “We are doing it.”

  I look at him and whisper, “Te quiero.”

  Her laughter floats around the gym causing tears to form in my eyes, but I fight to swallow them down. Focus. Focus. Focus on tonight, Cruz’s fight, and Papi’s hard work. I can feel her stare drilling holes into my back. I react before I think better of it. I turn to her and find her staring at me. I never let go of Papi’s hand. I sense his body turn to me.

  “How dare you?” I grit out, no forgiveness in my tone.

  She stands up, throwing her long hair over her shoulder and clears her throat but doesn’t answer me.

  “Ahora no, Layla,” Papi whispers to me.

  “You. Are. A. Coward.” I spit out each word, not missing a beat.

  I’m pulled back by Papi and another fighter, but I don’t stop. “You are trash. How do you sleep at night?”

  “Layla.” It’s the one word that slips from her tongue.

  “Don’t you dare!” I step closer to her, not backing down. “I hate you. Every single night when your head hits your pillow, I hope you picture the little girl you shattered. You bitch.”

  I could go on forever and ever. She’s not worth it. My mistake sinks in with a rapid force. I’m not a trained fighter with discipline and should’ve kept my head held high but failed.

  “I’m sorry, Papi. I’m so sorry.” I turn to him. “I’m done with her. It is too much having her here ruining your big night.”

  He shocks me when his two thick arms wrap me up in a hug, burying my face in his solid chest. The same one that’s caught so many sad tears over the years. The one constant in my life never changes. I feel him kiss the top of my head, showing me his love even though I fucked up. He backs us up, walking away from the cage.

  “They call you the damn Boss, and you can’t control your damn mutt. Put a muzzle on her.”

  I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Monty Chandler, Ash’s dad, the devil in disguise who uses his deep pockets to get whatever he wants. Those words coming from anyone else would destroy me. The fact he’s spewing them means nothing. He may be unethical, but he’s smart; he knew exactly where to hit Papi right where it would hurt most.

  Papi’s head pops up from mine, his arms around me tense, and his breathing picks up to a rapid pace. I know his years of training is about to crack wide open in his gym. His men can’t see him do this. It’s not who he is.

  I step back and push on his chest. “Papi, no. He’s not worth it.”

  He doesn’t budge. I push harder, and the same thing happens. The fighter who was by our side grabs Papi by his elbow, pulling him back.

  “Coach—heart, fire, and desire.” He pats his chest. “Heart, fire, and desire.”

  It’s the motto of the gym and painted in bold, block letters. All the fighters live and fight by it. The words seem to calm him down for a bit. Jag races over to us, sending a cocky chin jerk to Monty Chandler and his crew before throwing his arm around Papi’s shoulders.

  It does the trick. His feet move. I’m disappointed in my actions.

  “Layla
.” Dad enters a small equipment room and signals for me.

  I follow his orders with no mouthy retort. I drop my head as I close the door, having no courage to look in his eyes.

  “It’s what they do. How they operate. They win by playing fucking head games.”

  I wince at his language. He has the mouth of a sailor but rarely directs it toward me.

  “Look at me, mi hija.” He pauses until I do. “Titan’s Tribe can and will only beat us if their head games work. They have no talent, dedication, or raw power. They rely on their fucking slimy ass games. You play into their hand, they win.”

  Papi steps closer. I’m expecting him to walk right back out the door. But he doesn’t. He hugs me again, kissing the top of my head. “No crying. No regrets. Chin up and enter the battle.”

  I wrap my arms tight around his waist, hugging him with all I have. I was on the verge of tears and breaking down until his words fueled me. He’s right. I knew this but let my feelings and anger cloud everything I know.

  I break the hug first, stepping back and squaring up my shoulders. There are no words needed, so instead I pull open the door and walk out with my head held high. My only job tonight is to make sure everyone has what they need. I’d worked my ass off making sure everything was prepared and ready to go.

  After checking on the ticket line and concessions, I glance around the gym with pride swelling in my chest. The earlier encounter is wiped clean and out of my mind. The first few matches warm up the crowd. Diablo’s Throne fighters are winning every match they’re in. None of them are qualifying bouts for the big championship in Vegas.

  Trick’s the only fighter who has to take on a Titan’s Tribe fighter. It’s not a coincidence when over a dozen of Trick’s teammates follow him out of the tunnel. He’s bouncing from foot to foot shaking out his arms. His black hoodie over his head conceals his face from the crowd. His signature song is vibrating throughout the gym.