Warnings and Wildfires

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “No it’s not. You’re trying to piss me off.”

  He stops goofing around and gives me a lopsided grin. “Only ’cause it’s so easy to rile you when it comes to her.”

  “Shut it,” I growl under my breath as Aubrey strolls over.

  “Hey, Jake. Did you just get here?” she asks.

  “Yeah, good thing. Looks like my brother’s in a mood today.”

  She gives me a shy smile that punches me in the gut. “Everything okay?” she asks. “You have been quiet all morning.”

  “I’m fine. Jake thinks he’s a comedian.”

  Jake slaps me on the back. “I gotta go. Got someone coming in at twelve-thirty.”

  After he leaves, Aubrey’s gaze lands on me. “Can I show you something I’d like to order?”

  “Sure,” I mumble, still staring at her legs.

  She fidgets and my gaze travels up, landing on her nervous face. “You should really wear pants to work,” I blurt.

  Her cheeks turn red. “Oh. Uh, I didn’t. It’s so hot out.” The more she stammers, the stupider I feel for opening my big mouth. My inability to control myself isn’t her problem.

  “It’s fine.” I nod to the equipment she never touches. “I just don’t want you getting hurt or something.” Never mind clients who actually use the equipment wear whatever the fuck they want.

  “Won’t happen again.” She hurries away and pushes the door to the women’s locker room open.

  I step into my office, planning to bang my head against the wall a few times. Maybe knock some common sense loose.

  Nothing comes to me, so I return to the floor.

  Aubrey storms out of the locker room—wearing long, loose black sweats and plants herself behind the front counter.

  Good job, asshole.

  I better fix this before it goes any further. “You didn’t have to—”

  “It’s fine,” she snaps, cutting me off.

  “What did you want to show me?”

  “Nothing. It’s probably stupid anyway.”

  “Aubrey,” I try again.

  We’re interrupted by students arriving for my one o’clock class. “Are you going to assist me?” I ask Aubrey.

  She won’t even look at me. “You’re the boss. If you want me to, I will.”

  One of my regulars, Shayla, slides up next to me and threads her arm through mine. “I’ll let you demonstrate on me.”

  “Thanks.” I force a polite smile and untangle myself from Shayla. “I’ll meet you ladies back there in a few minutes.”

  “Better make sure you tell Shayla and her buddies about your ‘no shorts in the gym’ policy,” Aubrey mutters without sparing me a glance.

  I turn and run my gaze over the women. “I didn’t notice.”

  She huffs out a sad laugh and shakes her head.

  I’m torn. Tell her the shorts were bothering me because I couldn’t think about anything other than bending her over and yanking them down her legs? Or let her continue to think I don’t find her attractive?

  Both options are damn unappealing for different reasons.

  I really wish Sully would go away and stop looking at me like I’m an annoying puppy he accidentally kicked.

  Of course, that would be easier if I stopped acting like one.

  But, damn he knows how to make me feel inadequate.

  Finally, he gives up to attend to his trio of tall, leggy blondes. Like hell am I going over there to help out.

  Jake saunters my way, leans over and places his elbows on the counter. “Anyone call for me?” he asks.

  “Not today.”

  He glances at the door. “Damn. This dude usually isn’t late and doesn’t blow off appointments.”

  “Sorry. Do you want me to call him?”

  “Nah.” He shakes his head and then stops and stares at me. “Why’d you change?”

  “Jesus. What is it with you and your brother? You two have some clothing fetish you need to tell me about?”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing,” I mutter. “Your brother informed me my shorts weren’t appropriate attire, so I changed.”

  Jake cocks his head toward Sully and chuckles. “Did he really?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll cover myself in a sack from now on. I know I don’t look like the Hilton sisters over there, but jeez.”

  His eyes widen. “Whoa. Whatever he said, I can guarantee it’s not because he thinks you’re unattractive.”

  “Whatever.” I tap at the computer and turn the screen toward Jake. “How is it Strike Back has like zero web presence? This site is pathetic.”

  Not offended by the criticism, he shrugs. “He keeps meaning to hire someone to fix up the website. Hasn’t gotten around to it.”

  “You guys need something to let people know the place even exists.”

  “We get lots of referrals from word of mouth.”

  I roll my eyes. “You two act like you’re seventy-year-old men afraid of technology instead of almost-thirty business owners.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “You’re exactly what he needs.”

  Heat spreads over my cheeks. “What Strike Back needs,” I correct.

  “Yeah, that too.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Almost closing time for Strike Back. Also, almost time for me to be at the fight to make my debut as a ring girl.

  So why am I parked behind the gym? Far enough not to be spotted right away but with a good view of the back door.

  What am I doing?

  I don’t have the guts to stroll inside and announce that I’m on my way to do something he expressly asked me not to do. Do I?

  Don’t put yourself in danger just to make a point.

  That sounds like something Sully would say and I hate that he’s in my head.

  Don’t do something stupid just to get even with him for rejecting me.

  That one makes me squirm. I glance down at my dress. Short, tight, dark red velvet. My heels are on the seat next to me because I can’t drive with them. The ballet flats currently on my feet are much more comfortable.

  Did I stop by with the stupid hope that he’ll talk me out of tonight? Maybe toss me over his shoulder and have his way with me over his desk instead?

  If I don’t make up my mind soon, I’m going to be late.

  Where does Sully go after work?

  Jesus, pretty soon if you flip to nutjob in the dictionary, my picture will be there.

  I blow out an exaggerated, heavy sigh. Sitting here reeks of bad decisions. I’ll be too mortified if Sully catches me to give him a piece of my mind. Worse if he tells me not to go, I’ll probably listen to him and I really do need the money.

  Before putting the car in drive, I reach into my purse for my makeup bag and my lip balm.

  It’s not there.

  My memory flashes to my locker.

  Shit.

  Well, now I have an excuse to go inside.

  A flimsy, ridiculously obvious excuse.

  I put the car in drive and pull up next to the back door. Just because I’m insane doesn’t mean I want to walk through a dark parking lot in my barely-covers-my-ass dress.

  After a few deep breaths, I open the car door and step out. I leave my heels in the car, because, come on, let’s not be completely obvious.

  Inside, the lights wink out one by one.

  I halt in my tracks.

  Should I leave?

  When have I ever done what I should do?

  I run up to the back door and rap my knuckles against the glass.

  It’s so dark, I barely make Sully’s form out as he approaches. I’m standing under a bright light, so I know he sees me.

  The door pushes open. “Aubrey? What are you doing here?”

  “I’m on my way out, saw the lights were on, and uh, realized I forgot something in my locker. Do I have time to grab it?”

  His gaze slowly travels over my body. The tension between us grows as neither of us speaks and he doesn’t move to let me i
n or shut the door in my face.

  “Never mind, I’ll grab it another time.”

  As I turn to leave, he pushes the door wider. “No, it’s okay. Come in.”

  “Thanks.”

  He doesn’t move, so I brush past him, ignoring the way my body tingles in all the places we touch.

  I hurry down the hallway, my flats whispering over the hardwood floors that gleam in the low light. The locker room door stands wide open with a trashcan keeping it in place. It takes a second to remember why I’m here.

  My fingers shake and I mess up the combination three times before the lock finally clicks open.

  Reaching in, I grab the small silk makeup bag and check for the gloss I wanted. I mean, if I came all the way in here for it, I might as well make sure it’s here, right?

  It is and I take it to the counter with the mirror over it and slick some over my lips.

  “Aubrey?”

  The tube of gloss clatters to the counter, rolls off the edge, and lands on the floor. I bend over, reaching for it and almost smack into Sully’s knees.

  I wish I’d put my heels on. Standing taller would make me feel less foolish.

  “What are you up to tonight?” he asks in a low voice, his gaze roaming up and down my body.

  “Uh,” I don’t lie well. “Stuff.”

  He cocks his head. “Pretty fancy for just ‘stuff.’”

  “For an employer, you spend a lot of time noticing my clothes.”

  “Hard not to,” he mumbles.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  Nervous from the way he’s staring at me, I wave my cosmetic bag in his face. “Well, I have what I came for. I’m running late.”

  “Date?” he asks.

  “Does it matter?”

  He closes his eyes briefly. “No. I shouldn’t have asked.” His gruff voice is laced with what seems like regret. “Go on.”

  I open my mouth to confess my plans, then shut it. He’ll only try to stop me.

  Jake: Is Aubrey with you?

  Me: No. Why?

  Jake: She’s late.

  I’d ask for what, but I have a sinking feeling I already know.

  Why’d I let her slip through my fingers?

  No wonder she was all dressed up.

  The ridiculous possessive streak in me was convinced she had a date. Asking questions I might not like the answers to seemed to be the smarter move.

  I stalk out the back door, but too late. She’s gone.

  To the Castle.

  Unfortunately, I know how to find the place.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The directions Griff sent weren’t the most useful, but eventually, I find myself driving down an overgrown dirt driveway. Ten-foot-high chain link fence with barbed wire spirals at the top define the grounds long before the decaying brick building comes into view.

  Large, portable floodlights—the kind usually only seen along the highway during night time roadwork—illuminate the circular driveway that loops around the building. The parking lot is full of trucks, motorcycles, and a lot of low-slung sports cars. Nothing too flashy.

  I tuck the car into a corner spot, praying no one damages it. Celia won’t appreciate me taking her car on this particular adventure.

  Threading my car key through a chain, I drape it around my neck and tuck it into my cleavage. My wallet stays in the glovebox. I stuff my heels, a hairbrush, and my makeup bag into a bigger tote and take a deep breath before stepping out of the car.

  The leering and low whistles from the guys standing around outside make me wish I’d worn jeans and a hoodie. Surely this place has a bathroom I could’ve used to change into my ring girl gear.

  At the door, a guy stops me with a hand in my face. “Name?”

  “Aubrey. Griff asked me to work tonight.”

  He scowls, but I scowl right back. No one told me I needed a secret password to enter.

  “Royal’s in the back.”

  “Royal?”

  “That’s Griff, but don’t call him that here.”

  “Whatever,” I mumble, already regretting tonight.

  Griff is nowhere in sight. And I’m not sure where “the back” the doorman referred to actually is since it’s one big circular room. Luckily, I spot Jake inside a circle of other fighter-types. He’s engaged in an intense discussion with a big, bearded red-headed guy who appears to be inked from neck to fingers.

  A bit of a hush falls over the guys surrounding Jake as I approach and he glances up. A welcoming smile spreads across his face.

  “Aubrey!” Jake calls out, waving me over. “You made it.”

  The guys surrounding him part, giving me room to approach. None of them say a word to me.

  Jake gives me a friendly squeeze. He seems to command respect here, so his acknowledgment makes me feel less out of place. Protected even.

  While Griff claimed he had no other ring girls for tonight, there are a number of scantily clad women milling around. I mention that to Jake and he snorts. “Ring bunnies. They’re here for a…different purpose.”

  “Oh.”

  His burly friend laughs, and Jake slaps him in the chest. “Aubrey, this is my buddy, Murphy.”

  He nods at me. “Sully’s girl?” he asks, raising an eyebrow Jake’s way.

  “No. Not Sully’s girl,” I snap. “His employee. Sheesh.”

  Murphy’s not offended. No, he laughs at me and holds up his hands. “I must’ve been given bad info.”

  One of the guys who’d whistled at me outside walks by and Jake glares, pulling me into his side. “Sully flip his shit when you told him you were coming tonight?” he asks once the threat has passed. Whether he’s feeling protective of me or that was his opponent, I’m not sure.

  “I didn’t tell your brother what my plans were. It’s none of his business.”

  Murphy nods toward the door. “Well, I’m guessing someone told him.”

  I’m close enough to feel Jake vibrating with laughter as he watches his brother. “Bastard hasn’t come to one of these in years,” he mutters.

  Sure enough, Sully’s striding in the same entrance I used and surveying the vast circular room. I turn away, hoping he’ll miss me.

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with me.” My denial sounds weak even to me. I lift my chin at one of the pretty blondes pacing in front of the bathroom. “Maybe he came to pick up a ring bunny to bring home with him for the night.”

  Jake laughs even harder. “Nah, my brother doesn’t bring girls to his house.” He raises an eyebrow, waiting for my reaction. I shrug not sure what to make of the information.

  Griff waves to me and I wriggle away from Jake. “I better go. Griff wanted me to talk to him first thing.”

  “Kiss for luck?” Jake asks.

  I rear back. “Um, no.”

  He screws his face into a mask of outraged surprise. “Not even one little kiss?” He touches his hand to his chest as if he’s heartbroken. “What if I get hurt in the ring and your good luck kiss is the only thing that could’ve prevented it?”

  Murphy bursts out laughing. “Laying it on thick, bro.”

  “Well, I guess you should be extra careful then.” I narrow my eyes. “What makes you think I’d kiss you for luck or anything else?”

  He flashes a cocky grin. “No reason.”

  “Why would…wait, what did your brother tell you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re infuriating.”

  “He’s special,” Murphy agrees, patting the top of Jake’s head.

  “Are you fighting too, Murphy?” I ask.

  “Maybe. I mostly came to scrape Jake off the ground after he gets his ass handed to him.”

  “Bullshit,” Jake shoots back.

  Underneath their growly man-teasing, I get the sense they’ve been friends for a while and Murphy’s here as some sort of protection for Jake. I also notice some of his tattoos are similar to Sully’s friend, Wrath.

 
Maybe Sully’s not as clean-cut as he wants people to think.

  “Better run, Aubrey,” Jake says, tilting his head to a determined Sully weaving his way through the crowd.

  I pat his shoulder and wish him luck before hurrying away to find Griff.

  He meets me halfway and shakes my hand. “Thanks for showing up.”

  I can’t tell if he’s sincere or being sarcastic because I’m late.

  “You can store your stuff back here,” he says, pointing to a metal desk in the corner. He runs his gaze over my dress. “I guess that’ll do.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  His mouth quirks. “I like you, Aubrey. You’re totally worth getting an ass-kicking from Sully.”

  I roll my eyes as I slip my heels on and stuff my bag in the bottom desk drawer. “That’s ridiculous.” I turn and face him. “So, what exactly does a good ring girl do?”

  “Follow me.” He waves me closer and I trot after him. We end up in a locker room and I avert my gaze from the half-dressed guys getting ready for their fights.

  He stops so abruptly, I almost slam into him. Tottering in my heels to stay upright. I throw out my hand, bracing myself on the wall of lockers to my left.

  “Easy, girl,” he says, grabbing my shoulder until he’s sure I’m steady. “Nervous?”

  “Maybe a little.” My gaze drifts over the guys crowded in the back. “Are you a fighter too?”

  “Not tonight. Remy and I never fight on the same night.”

  “Your sidekick?”

  “More like brother from another mother.” He whistles loud enough that the whole room quiets and points to me with both index fingers. “Aubrey’s helping Myra out tonight,” he shouts with authority. “Treat her nice.”

  A few of the guys nod my way, but most of them go right back to their conversations with their crews.

  “Who’s Myra?” I ask Griff.

  He nods toward a tall, pretty blonde hurrying over. She’s graceful even in her five-inch heels and I feel like even more of a clod for almost tripping in mine.

  “Hey, Griff.” She tries to plant a kiss on his cheek, but he brushes her off.

  “Show Aubrey the ropes tonight,” he says.

  Myra and I couldn’t be physically more opposite. She’s so tall she has to stoop to talk to me. Her platinum blonde hair is a mass of wild corkscrew curls down her back. She’s friendly and waits to make sure I understand everything she explains before moving on.