by HJ Bellus
“I’ve got you, Mack. You just tell me when it’s too much.”
“That won’t be any more awkward than I already am. I just want to be normal.”
“Let’s make up a code word or action if you need a breather. Nobody will ever know. You can make a bird noise or flap your arms like a bird.”
A strange and beautiful noise comes from me. It’s the genuine melody of sweet laughter. “Are you serious?”
“Okay, I got a bit carried away with the bird theme.” Trick’s hands roam down to my ass, cupping it. A tingle races through me. It’s delicious and dangerous. “How about you wink at me?”
“Can’t wink,” I respond.
“Let me see.”
“I’m warning you.” I give him my best wink.
Trick bites down on his bottom lip as I try to wink a second time. Then he full-out laughs at me.
“I told you.” I smack his chest.
“Okay, okay. Don’t wink. Someone might think you’re about to have a seizure.”
“Rude.”
“It was adorable.” He kisses my forehead.
“Yellow. I’ll put yellow in a sentence,” I offer.
“Perfect. I want the story behind that color one day, baby.”
“Thank you for fixing my bike,” I get out before forgetting one of the main reasons for coming here tonight.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m serious. Thank you.”
Trick opens his mouth to speak, but I continue, feeling freedom with this man. All imprisonment of anxiety and shyness vanish the longer I’m around Trick.
“Besides Gene, no one has ever gone out of their way for me. I have no idea how you fixed it in the middle of the night, but Trick—it means everything to me.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll fix all your flat tires, Mack. The opportunity to do so would mean the world to me.”
I nod, knowing exactly what he means. He wants me. It scares the shit out of me. It’s the craving for more that pushes me just far enough into Trick.
“Yeah? You telling me yes, baby?”
I nod again.
“You won’t regret it, Mack-A-Bee.”
That’s the one thing I know for sure. I may come out of this adventure with a broken heart. I make a promise to myself to appear on the other side regret-free.
Trick eventually coaxed me out into the gym. It took a good forty minutes for me to adjust to the sound of hitting from fighters training in the background and the chatter of the self-defense students.
Even though groups of women are rotating, Trick keeps me by his side at his station. It hasn’t stopped Jag from coming by and making crude gestures with his hands and pelvis. It pisses Trick off and makes me giggle. Jag should scare the shit out of me, but he’s just too damn funny.
Trick’s lost the attention of his current group of elderly women. They’re infatuated with Jag doing cartwheels. He’s stripped down to spandex shorts.
“Want to try?” Trick steps up behind me.
His solid chest presses into my back. His breathing tickles the nape of my neck.
“A cartwheel?” It comes out as a whisper. My spine tingles with an unfamiliar wave of emotion with the closeness.
Trick’s deep chuckle vibrates off my skin. “No, baby, what I was teaching in my group.”
I turn around when Jag reaches behind his neck and peels off his shirt. Trick didn’t make me participate in the class, which I appreciated. The self-defense skills they’re teaching are intense, exposing your weakness.
I take a deep breath in and let it out. “Yeah, I think I can.”
“I know you can.” He winks then bends down to grab a pad. He places it between his legs. “If your attacker is coming right at you, what do you do?”
Shit. There’s been punches, kicks, and different tactics to get away.
“Knee kick.” It comes out more of a question than an answer.
He nods his head and without saying a word advances on me as he did with every other student. Even though it’s Trick holding the padded barrier between us, it freaks me out. Once he’s within a few inches of me, I react, hoisting up my knee until it hits the black pad.
Trick drops the pad. “Your form is good, Mack-A-Bee. If someone wants to get you, that won’t stop them. You have to put all your force into it. Give it your all. You won’t hurt me. This could be the one thing to stun your attacker enough to give you time to get away.”
I catch my trembling lower lip between my teeth and fight to focus on my breathing. I mean to reply in a confident voice, but it comes out in a damn hushed whisper again. “Okay, again.”
Trick doesn’t say another word as he backs up. This is my reality more than I’d like to face. I walk or ride a bike everywhere. The crime incidents are low around here, but that doesn’t mean they don’t happen. And as of now, I’m a damn sitting duck in a pond of water. I square my shoulders as Trick advances on me.
My knee rears back, and I kick it up with more force. The contact leaves behind a slight sting on my kneecap.
“Better.” Trick’s eyes light up with pride. “Harder next time.”
We repeat it over and over until I feel confident enough. My energy and confidence grow each time. Trick loops an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his chest in a one-armed hug.
“You’re a lot stronger than you think, Mack. Don’t hide anymore,” he mumbles into the top of my head.
“Mack.” My name rings out through the air.
I look up to see Layla waving me over. “Come try this station out.”
I step back, glancing at Trick. He nods to me, giving me his silent support. He drops the bag to the floor and laces our fingers together. I’m thankful he’s going with me even though I didn’t ask him.
“You’re looking amazing over there, Mack.” Layla wipes stray hairs from her face. “You’ve got a nice set of trunks there.”
I tilt my head, confused at her compliment.
“Your legs, baby,” Trick leans down and whispers in my ear.
“Thank you.” I glance down at my sneakers.
Trick squeezes my hand, reminding me to look up. Anger heats up inside of me. It hits me all at once. These are horrible habits I’ve formed over the years, and it seems breaking them will be damn near impossible. I’m safe and having fun yet still falling back on old fixations.
I look up to Layla and smile. It’s not a forced one, either.
“Okay, over here we are practicing the bear hug. I’ll demonstrate, then you can try it out if you’d like to. No pressure.” Layla steps back and gestures to Cruz.
Cruz comes up from behind her, wrapping her up in a bear hug.
“Okay, once you’re in this position, your natural reaction will be to grab your attacker’s elbow or wrists and try to break free. They have the element of surprise and more than likely will have more force and power to keep you there. So instead, you’re going to drop low as you can and squirm out of the hold.”
Cruz steps back for a moment then advances again. Layla drops her hands without thinking, drops low, and wiggles like hell until she falls out of the hold. Using her palms, she jolts up into a standing position and begins to run. She only gets a few steps away before stopping and turning back to me.
“Want to try?” she asks, stepping back up to us.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. The skin on my lips is tender from my nervous tendency to chew it. I step up to the center of the mat without putting too much thought into it. Trick is not too far behind me.
“This isn’t your station, macho man.” Cruz shoves his chest. “She’ll be fine.”
My eyes go wide at the action. These men are barbaric yet gentle all at the same time. I have no words to explain the oddness of it. And it’s not just the fact I’ve been so sheltered and have never been around men like these. No, it’s much more. These fighters at Diablo’s Throne are a special type of men.
“Don’t,” Trick growls.
&
nbsp; Cruz grumbles something back, and this goes on for a few minutes until Boss steps up.
“Get both of your asses off the mat. All you’re doing is wasting time.”
Trick begins to argue. His possessiveness over protecting me is clear and evident. My fingers tremble. Each of my words comes out in an emotion-choked voice from the warm heat coursing through me. “It’s okay, Trick. I can do this.”
His neck stiffens, and his eyes grow hard. It takes him a few moments before taking a few steps back. Trick’s balled-up fists disappear into his pockets. I offer him a warm smile, letting him know I can do this.
“Okay, little lady, we are going to do the same thing Layla showed you. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, tap my arm.”
“Okay.” I don’t look down; instead, I look right into the kind and caring coffee-colored eyes of Boss.
Tingles spring up from the tips of my toes when Boss steps behind me. The anticipation of waiting creates panic inside me. I gulp, feeling pain in my dry throat. Massive arms wrap around me from behind. Boss’ hands lock in front of me. I freeze. My mind goes blank. Tears spring up in my eyes with the thought of how easily someone could restrain me. Boss squeezes me gently. I catch Trick stepping to me from the corner of my eye. It gives me the power and determination to carry on. I remember what to do.
I drop low. My knees pop as I do. I wiggle and writhe until I hit the floor. I’m not as fast as Layla but manage to stand up. My knees are weak, and my legs have the consistency of Jell-O.
“Good.” Boss pats the top of my shoulder. “Faster this time, okay?”
“Yeah, I panicked for a bit,” I respond.
“It happens, but the more you practice, the better your odds.” Boss takes two long strides backward. “Have you ever seen a cat put in a tub of water?”
“On a video, not real life.” I pull down my top, straightening it out.
“That’ll do. I want you to react like a cat in a tub of water. Fight until you get loose.”
I nod. I can do this. I shake out my shoulders, realizing there are several sets of eyes studying me. It doesn’t make my skin crawl. I feel empowered in a way. Boss comes up from behind me and does the same thing. This time I react faster, and moving like a frantic, panicked cat, I get out of his hold much quicker this time. When I hit the ground, I’m up and moving.
A chorus of cheers serenades me, causing me to flinch and stutter back. It’s not until I find Trick’s handsome face that I relax. His full mega-watt grin framed by his perfect dimples shines right back at me.
Chapter 9
Trick
A newborn calf doesn’t get up and walk without stumbling. Its legs are shaky and uncoordinated. It’s their mother’s loving nature, patience, and encouragement that finally gets the newborn moving. At first, it’s not a pretty sight, but before long, the calf is up on his steady feet, running.
I’m watching something very similar happen right before me. It’s all Mack needed—a little encouragement to break out of her shell. She fist-pumps the air a few times in the midst of the cheers. Good Lord, it’s almost as horrendous as her wink. Somehow, she pulls off the awkwardness, making her all the more sexy and intriguing.
Boss gives her a slow clap. The familiar pride lingering in each of his expressions makes me proud. Once Boss’ respect is earned, it’s all over. And trust me, it has to be earned. Nothing is given for free here at Diablo’s.
It’s all about baby steps with Mack. That’s the only thing keeping me from striding right over to her and wrapping her up in a hug followed by a long lingering kiss. I’d consider today one giant leap in the right direction for my Mack-A-Bee.
Mack shocks the shit out of me when she makes a move toward me. She’s confident and sure with each step. Her arms sling low around my waist as she pushes her cheek into my chest.
“Thank you.”
I find the low of her back, pulling her closer to me. She repeats the two words over and over in a hushed whisper. What just went down here is a huge fucking accomplishment for Mack. Emotion clogs my throat. This shit is getting out of control real fast. I don’t react to shit like this. I train, fight, and remain laser-focused.
“See you next week, Mack.” Layla pats Mack’s shoulder, causing Mack to pull back.
“Yes.” Mack runs her hand over her hair and adjusts her glasses. Those damn glasses fucking turn me on.
Her cheeks are painted a bright pink from the adrenaline of everything. Layla turns and begins walking away with Cruz at her side, his hand roaming dangerously close to her ass.
“Layla.” Mack steps out of my embrace. Her voice is pitched a tick high. “Thank you for inviting me. I had a really good time.”
“Anytime. Our gym is now yours.” Layla smiles and continues on her way.
I step up behind Mack, wanting to hold her to me as if she was my woman. It takes all my self-restraint not to, so instead I lean down and whisper in her ear, letting the tangy lime and coconut scent of her shampoo wash over me.
“How about dinner, Mack-A-Bee?” We begin walking side by side to the door.
“Can’t. I eat with Gene every Tuesday night. It’s our thing.” She glances up at me.
“What about the center?” I ask, pushing open the door.
“We don’t go on Tuesday nights. Tuesday nights have always been special in Gene’s house. When his wife was alive, they’d have me over every Tuesday night. As he aged, we never stopped the tradition.” Mack places a hand on the cracked leather seat of her bike.
“Wow. That’s impressive. Gene is quite the cockblocker.” I smirk, stepping closer and cupping her cheek.
“That’s embarrassing.” She tries to duck her head in hopes of hiding from me.
“No, baby, it was a joke.” I stroke the pad of my thumb along her cheek.
“I know. I do watch lots of Netflix even though I’m a hermit.” The metal bike frame clangs against the brick wall.
“I’m going to kiss you, Mack.”
“Okay.” The word ghosts off her lips.
“I’m really going to kiss you this time. No quick peck on your forehead. You better tell me to stop now because I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” I’ve moved my thumb to the raised scar that runs down her jawline, tracing soothing circles on it.
“Kiss me, Trick. Make me feel alive.”
I don’t say another word. In slow motion, feeling each second tick by, I lean down—inhaling her sweet scent and imprinting each of her innocent features to memory. I graze my lips along her plump perfect ones once, twice, and then a third time before sealing us together.
It starts out slow as I memorize the feel of Mack’s lips on mine. My free hand goes to her hip, clutching it as if it’s an anchor grounding me. I graze my tongue along the seam of her lips until she parts them. I don’t waste time in exploring her mouth, soaking up her sweet taste. Mack melts underneath me. I feel her knees buckle the moment they do so. I release her hip and wrap my arm low around her waist, keeping her tiny body melded to mine.
Mack brings her hands up to my face to frame it, then her tongue dances with mine. The action is hotter than any wildfire known to earth. It takes everything inside me not to haul her ass over to my apartment and kiss every inch of her perfect creamy skin.
A thundering boom pulls us out of the moment. I drop my forehead to hers. Both of our chests heave in unison in the most mind-inducing song. I run the pad of my thumb over her swollen and love-bruised lip.
“I—uh…I—uh…need to get going.”
“I know,” I say but don’t move.
Mack’s fingers cling to my face, letting me know she does not want to move either. I break the contact first, stepping back and running my hand through my hair. Frustration knots in the back of my neck as my shoulders tense. It takes everything inside me to remain two feet away from her.
“Let me drive you home. I can toss your bike in the back of my truck.”
“It’s okay. I want to ride home.”
; “Mack, it’s nearly dusk.”
She steps up to me, her hands cupping my cheeks. Her wide, caring eyes analyze the cuts and bruises on my face. She stands up on her tiptoes and peppers light kisses over a few of them.
“Another quirk of mine, Trick. I don’t ride in cars, and before you say you have a truck, it’s the same thing. Maybe one day, but my rebel introvert self is tapped out for the day.” She ends the last word with a lingering kiss on my lips.
Mack steps back, grabs her rusted-out bike, and throws a leg over the seat. I cross my arms over my heaving chest, not sure if I like this confident, ornery side of Mack. It’s sexy as fuck and equally irritating.
She hikes her worn yellow sneaker on the pedal and winks at me. “Save me a seat in class, Trick.”
Then she’s off. Her perfect ass disappears into the landscape of the city. Her flowing raven hair is the last thing I see before her silhouette vanishes. I reach down and give my dick a hard squeeze through the athletic material of my shorts. It’s going to be a long fucking night. I reach for the door handle of my truck when I freeze. The deafening sounds of screeching tires and metal colliding send chills up my spine. It’s the devil’s song, sent straight from the depths of hell from Satan himself.
Chapter 10
Trick
I strum my fingers on the desktop, tapping out the same nervous rhythm with my foot on the cold, harsh tile. The air in the room reeks of sterile disdain. I watch the clock on the wall, counting each second that ticks by. Fucking three more minutes, that’s it, and I’m going to lose my shit.
“Hey.” A palm comes down on my shoulder.
I crane my neck to the side and relax in my fucking seat. Mack. She’s here. No shit, she’s here, dumbass. You followed her home last night. The wreck in the intersection that Mack narrowly escaped by five seconds rattled me to my core. It left me panicked and cold. Without thinking, I jogged to her house. Of course, she beat me by a handful of minutes. The sight of her piece of shit bike leaning against the garage was all I needed to see.
I had stood there, hunched over with my palms on my knees, catching my goddamn breath. Like a damn lunatic, I walked over to the bike and ran my hand along the rusty handlebars, making sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me, then I jogged back to the gym and my truck. I decided not to put in an extra workout session. Instead, I went directly to my apartment, fired up my MacBook, and messaged Mack.
