I didn’t know Rhett had a girlfriend, but then again, he doesn’t really keep me up-to-date with his personal life. If he hasn’t even mentioned her, could he be serious about this woman? I really hope Cara hasn’t missed her chance with him, because the two of them are truly meant to be, stubbornness and denial aside.
“You know this isn’t something I can bring up, Clo,” she says, swirling the ice around in her glass. “Because I don’t even know how I feel. What if he’s meant to be with this chick and really likes her? I’d never stop him from being happy.”
“No one could make him happy like you could. It’s been written in the cards from the beginning,” I state, giving her a small smile. “I think the first step is for you to be sure about what you want, because you can’t tell him about this and just change your mind. You’re either all in or you let him be. It can’t be one of those ‘you don’t want him but don’t want anyone else to have him’ things.”
“It’s not that,” she whispers, her head falling back and her eyes closing. “I’m not that selfish, Clo. I guess I’m just scared. What if things change between us and it ruins our friendship? We’ve always been best friends, us three; we’ve always had that bond that everyone wanted and was jealous of. I don’t want to ruin that. I can’t lose that.”
I want to assure her that she won’t, but I can’t guarantee that. Things might change, but that’s a part of the gamble that is love. Instead, I tell her, “You can’t go on always wondering what if though.”
“I know,” she agrees, glancing at her watch. “And he’s going to be here any minute, so you can’t say anything. This can’t be awkward. Nothing has changed, it’s just us all catching up like we always do. It doesn’t matter that I saw him on a fuckin’ date, holding hands with some bitch. Nope, it doesn’t matter at all.”
My stomach clenches. Rhett doesn’t go on dates.
Ever.
He’s just not that kind of guy. He’s the one who has women falling over him, with him putting in no effort in return. He never has to work for it, and I’ve never known him to take a woman out for a meal.
“Ugh, telling you just now made it real. He took her on a real date,” she grumbles, stretching her neck from side to side, as if trying to release tension. “I just happened to be walking past the restaurant—can you believe that timing? I saw him sitting there at a table, facing her, sharing a meal, and acting like a couple.”
I can see why she’s worried.
Before, nothing changed between them. Cara dated but never took any of the men seriously; she pretty much just dated and bailed, and Rhett slept with random women who never meant anything to him and also bailed.
What they were doing was safe, because everyone knew they weren’t going to catch feelings for anyone else.
But now?
Rhett has changed the game.
“I think I need to see it myself to believe it,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck and taking a sip from Cara’s drink. “I can now see why you’re day drinking.”
Things are about to change around here, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.
I’m going to cause a huge stir among the Wind Dragons when they find out what I’ve been doing for the last year, and the safe friendship Cara has relied on with Rhett is now rocky.
“I know, maybe we should buy a bottle on the way home,” she jokes, head turning to the door the second she hears the rumble of a motorcycle. “He’s here.”
“You know him by the sound of his motorcycle?” I ask her, widening my eyes. “Fuck, girl, you’ve got it worse than I thought.”
“Shut up.”
I grin. “Make me.”
Rhett walks inside, blue eyes landing on us instantly. He’s wearing his Wind Dragons leather cut proudly, ripped light jeans, and white sneakers. His eyes seem to smile as he beelines for us.
“Ladies,” he says, pulling me against his chest in a bear hug. “This place has been so quiet without you, shithead.”
I laugh and push at his chest for him to let me go. He turns to Cara, leans down, and kisses the top of her head. “Should have known you two would be up to no good. Day drinking?”
“Just a welcome-home drink,” I respond, pushing out the barstool next to me. “Every chance we get to see one another is a cause for celebration. You going to join us or judge us?”
“Join, always,” he replies, sitting down and flashing his white, straight teeth. “Another round?”
And while I may have this impossible secret, I can forget about it for the day to hang with my two best friends.
I glance around, taking in the new shooting range in front of me. I hate to be one of those people, but this has always been my favorite part: weapons training. When Banks suggested I join him at his favorite range for a little extra practice, I wasn’t going to say no. Although I should be offended he thinks I need the extra practice, he hasn’t seen me shoot yet, and I’m looking forward to showing off a little for him. When I’m handed the gun, I can barely contain my excitement.
“Don’t look so trigger-happy,” Banks whispers, chuckling under his breath. “You go first. I want to see what I’m working with here.”
I don’t bother to tell him that I own a licensed gun, a Ruger LC9, and that I happen to know how to use it very well, among an array of other firearms and weapons. People underestimate me all the time, and I like it. If they knew who my mother was though, I’d doubt they’d be very surprised. She’s made it her mission to excel in every kind of weaponry, even random things no one would ever think of, like star throwing and nunchucks. She’d even survive back in time, because her sword skills are insane.
“I might need a little extra practice; it’s been a while,” I lie, keeping a straight face.
He gestures to the target. “Take your time.”
I flash him a smile, then aim and shoot.
Every shot I take hits the bull’s-eye.
When I step back, my eyes go straight to Banks, and I grin.
Smugly.
“How did I do?” I ask a little too sweetly.
I’m not a damsel in distress, and it would do well for him to remember that.
He shakes his head at me. “Nice to know you weren’t talking shit about your skills.”
“Let me know if you need any help,” I tell him, smirking.
“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” he asks me, watching as I put away the gun and safety equipment. “I know you didn’t learn all that at the academy. You shoot naturally, like you’ve been doing it all your life.”
I pause, wondering what the best way to answer this is, because there’s no way I can tell the truth. No one knows about my family ties to the Wind Dragons, and I want to keep it that way. Without knowing that little fact, it’s kind of hard to explain why I grew up being trained in different weapons, firearms, and fighting tactics. “I’ve visited a few shooting ranges in my time,” I decide on, with a nonchalant shrug. “I have good aim.”
I lift my eyes to see him studying me, as if trying to figure me out. Good luck to him, because I can’t even figure myself out sometimes. “You must have practiced a shitload to be so good.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “My parents wanted me to be able to protect myself, so they taught me at an early age. So I passed your test? No more second-guessing my capabilities?”
“We’ll see,” he murmurs. “Tell me something about you, Black.”
“You can call me Clover,” I say to him. I don’t know why, but coming from him, it’s weird that he calls me by my last name.
“Only if you call me Felix,” he fires back casually, like we didn’t just cross some invisible line.
“Deal,” I reply, watching him as he loads up his gun, ready for his turn. “Okay, something about me. Ummm. I remember my first day at the academy. I stood in front of the sign but didn’t know if I was going to walk in or not. I didn’t know if this was where I was meant to be.”
“And what made you decide to walk thr
ough those doors?” he asks, scanning my face.
“I don’t know—guess I followed my heart instead of my head for the first time ever. My parents didn’t really want me to be a cop, but I joined anyway,” I reply, quickly changing the subject instead of elaborating more on that one.
“What else . . . Oh, I have a business degree, and my friends call me Clo. How about you, Felix?”
“Only child,” he starts. “Athletic. I’ve played a lot of sports growing up and turned down a football scholarship to be here. I’ve always wanted to be a cop, for as long as I can remember.”
I totally knew he had this whole jock vibe about him.
“Turning down a football scholarship is a big deal,” I say, looking down at my hands. “But I think it’s nice that you knew what you wanted.”
“I always go after what I want,” he agrees, shrugging. “I’m not one of those people who believes fate is going to sort life out for me. If I want something, I have to go out and work hard to get it.”
I respect that. “Why have you always wanted to be a cop?”
“My dad was a police officer,” he admits, scanning the room. “Actually, he was friends with Officer Jones. They used to work together.”
I wonder if his dad ever arrested mine at some point.
“Following in his footsteps, huh?” I murmur, lost in thought as I can’t help but think what a good child he is, unlike me, going against anything my parents could possibly want for me.
“Something like that,” he says. “Why didn’t your parents want you to be a cop?”
I shrug. “I guess they think it’s unsafe.”
And because they see police as the enemy.
“Your life, your decisions,” he replies, studying me. “You deserve to be here, just like everyone else.”
“I think I’m beginning to see that.”
“So what other tricks are you hiding up your sleeve, Clo?” he asks after he finishes shooting the target, hitting every bull’s-eye as well. I don’t miss the use of my nickname, but let it slide. “You’re kind of mysterious, you know that? And you rarely give anything away.”
“No tricks here,” I say, ducking my head. “Well, maybe I have a few more, but you’re going to have to wait and see. I like to surprise people.”
“I can see that,” he mutters in a dry tone, then tries to mimic me. “I might need some practice, I haven’t had a shoot in a long time. . . .”
I throw my head back and laugh at the terrible high-pitched tone he used. “I did not sound like that at all, okay?”
“You sounded exactly like that,” he continues, then starts to bat his eyelashes. “I can’t believe you tried to play me like that.”
“I can’t believe you fell for it.” I smirk.
“Well, I won’t be doing that again, let me tell you. I won’t underestimate you again, Clo. Definitely learned my lesson there.”
We share a smile, a quiet moment where I realize how much I like his company. He’s funny, sexy as hell, but also has another side to him. You can actually talk to him. He’s approachable, and he has this vibe about him that screams that he will handle whatever situation is thrown at him. He may outrank me, but he’s my equal. I wouldn’t have to protect him; he can handle his own. He helped pull me out of the rut I was in, with no one giving me a chance to prove my capability, and slowly, he’s becoming someone I would consider a friend.
And yeah, there’s that whole attraction thing.
But I’m ignoring that.
FIVE
I HIT the punching pads harder and harder, trying to get rid of all my stress.
“Remind me never to piss you off,” Felix says as he holds up the pads for me while I make blow after blow. “You have some serious strength in those arms.”
“Thanks,” I grit out, punching each one a few more times before stopping and walking around in a circle, shaking my limbs out. “We should make this a thing. I’ve missed hitting the gym.”
When Felix asked if I wanted to go and work out with him after our shift, it couldn’t have been better timing. I had all this energy I needed to get out, and some company after work actually sounded nice, considering my only socialization is when Cara and Rhett visit me every now and again.
“We could make it a thing. I’m usually here about five times a week,” he admits.
“Okay, I probably won’t come that much, but a few nights a week isn’t so bad. Your turn,” I tell him, picking up the pads and putting them on. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I notice him hesitate.
“What’s wrong? You know you can’t hurt me right? I’m just holding them up for you to punch, and I could probably kick your ass anyway, so don’t make this a sexist thing.”
“You’ve got a healthy ego, you know that?” he mutters as he winces and punches with his right arm, but it’s the weakest punch ever, and I know he’s uncomfortable with even pretending to hit me.
Is there a gentleman hiding underneath all that brute?
“All right, how about we do some weights or something?” I ask him, rolling my eyes.
Relief fills those baby blues. “Sounds good. I wouldn’t want to hurt you, or make you look bad.”
“How kind of you,” I reply in a dry, sarcastic tone. “In that case, maybe we should head to the mats and spar?”
Taking me off guard he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. “Does the sass ever end?”
“Nope,” I reply, unsure how to handle this playful side to him. “Put me down, you caveman. Stop showing off. And don’t try to distract me from the ass kicking you’re about to get.”
He carts me around like I’m nothing; he’s so big and strong, and my mind goes to the gutter, imagining him throwing me around in the bedroom. Not that I have that much experience in that department, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about it. I have a pretty dirty mind, but none of that ever gets played out. At least not yet, anyway.
“When I’m showing off, Clo, trust me, you’ll know it,” he replies, putting me back on the ground and leading me toward the weights.
I’m more of a cardio girl, but I just want to watch him lift, you know, supervise and all that. Make sure his form is correct.
“I believe it,” I murmur, watching him get into position, fixing the weight to more than I’ll ever be able to lift in my life, and lying down on his back. If only he were shirtless. He starts to lift the weights, arms bulging, and I take the moment to enjoy the view.
If my aunt Lana, who is a romance author, needs any inspiration for her books, she needs to be here right now. She writes under a pen name, and she’s actually really talented. Uncle Tracker, her husband, even used to appear on a few of her covers and was actually quite the hottie back in his day. You know, before he got old.
I notice a few of the other women in the gym watching Felix too, which annoys me. They should use a little self-control and keep their eyeballs to themselves. Feeling annoyed, I get on the treadmill and run it off. Apparently one of the women takes that as her cue to zoom in closer on Felix, now standing next to the weights and starting up a conversation. I can’t seem to look away, watching her body language as she tries to make her move. I slow the speed on the treadmill to a brisk walk, knowing if they did exchange numbers or something, there’s nothing I could do about it. Felix and I are only just becoming friends, and even that’s a loose term of the word. Besides, we’re partners.
I don’t know what this tightness I feel in my chest is, but if I didn’t know better, I’d think it was jealousy.
No, it can’t be.
Have I ever felt this before?
Fuck.
This is not a good sign.
When Felix is done, he gets up and straightaway he’s scanning the gym for me—which I secretly enjoy—and completely ignoring the other woman. I want to jump for joy, wave at her, then give her the finger, but I stay contained, knowing that from the outside no one would know that anything was wrong. I don’t like to let my emot
ions control me; that’s a weakness I won’t allow. Especially for something like this. I don’t even know how I feel about the man, and either way, I know that I’m not going to act on it.
Felix smiles over at me and steps onto the treadmill next to me, starting off at a slow walk, head turned to me.
“Race you?” I say, flashing him a smile.
He sighs exaggeratedly. “Not everything is a competition, Clo.”
I put up the speed on my treadmill.
“That’s what people who lose say,” I reply with a flick of my long dark ponytail.
“The sass,” he mutters under his breath. “No wonder Jenks got rid of you.”
“Hey.” I reach out and slap his shoulder. “Jenks got rid of me because he’s boring and I refused to be his doughnut slave.”
“Did you just assault an officer?” he asks, trying to keep a straight face.
I start to lose my breath, but he keeps talking as normal, like his stamina isn’t affected by mere jogging. He’s much fitter than I am, but I try to pretend like I’m not dying. I’m also trying to pretend like I’m not seriously enjoying the banter between us. I knew Felix was good-looking, and badass, but I didn’t know that he was actually a really cool guy too.
I look forward to my shifts now, and it’s only getting better.
I lower the treadmill to a fast walk, and then turn it off, lost in my thoughts.
“Clo,” Felix says, glancing over at me.
“Yeah?”
“I won.” He grins triumphantly.
Damn.
“Clover!” a familiar voice calls out to me as I’m about to unlock my front door.
I spin around, eyes widening when I see Rhett jogging up the stairs to me.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask, smiling.
“I thought I’d surprise you,” he says, coming to a standstill, just watching me. “I haven’t put in much effort to visit you, and Cara has, so I didn’t want her to make me look bad. What the fuck, Clo?”
Fallen Princess Page 3
