I nod to his chair and he does as he’s told and sits his stubborn ass down. “You see now why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“It’s worse than I thought, isn’t it?”
I nod my head. “Yeah, man,” I tell him. “So much worse.”
With that, I take a seat in his office and give him all the gruesome details. I don’t skip a damn thing and allow him to get the full story. His head hangs as I describe the way Jonesy’s body decomposed and the stench that went with it. He flinches as I tell him every last detail of the way I’d pass out, only to be woken by electrocution.
I explain the way the knife would slice through my skin so slowly I wanted to die.
I tell him how I would have to watch Ben scream as they tore his nails out with pliers.
I tell him how I would pray to whatever God was up there that death would come as I couldn’t take a single moment more.
Jace sits in silence as I recap the torture I endured at their hands. “How’d you get out?” he finally asks, allowing us to move on.
“Ben was sobbing and begging for them to kill him. They were about to do it until they had the bright idea of making me do it,” I explain. “I was unchained and handed a gun with only one bullet in it. A gun was held to my head and I was told to shoot him. If not, they’d kill me and then him.”
I don’t need to say much more than that. Jace knows I would have taken my chance. I’ve been in plenty of war zones with him to know that I don’t let a chance pass me by.
“You killed them?” he questions.
I nod my head. “Every last one of those bastards.”
“What happened after that?” he questions.
“Ben and I got out of there. We walked for a few hours until we collapsed on a road. We were too dehydrated to go much further and our injuries were slowing us down. We stayed on the side of the road for the night, having no fucking idea where we were. We were like sitting ducks, anyone could have come by and found us. I could see lights approaching, but I didn’t have the energy to get up and defend us. When they got out of the car and I saw their fatigues, I’d never been so happy.”
“We were taken back to base and they did their best to fix us up, but we were both flown out and hospitalized for a few weeks before being released. I came straight home after that.”
“You were in the hospital for a few weeks and you couldn’t tell me. I would have gone.”
“I didn’t want you to see me like that. Hell, I didn’t want anyone to see me. I was fucking ashamed of myself. You would have done exactly the same thing had it been you in my position.”
He goes to argue before closing his mouth. I see the understanding in his eyes, which is when he finally lets it go. He lets out a deep sigh. “You’re right. I’m glad your home,” he finally tells me.
“I know, man,” I tell him.
I get up to leave but stop when he rises out of his seat as well. He walks around his desk and pulls me into a tight hug. He claps his hand on my back and I finally feel completely at ease. Telling Lex about Iraq was one thing, but finally opening up to Jace allows me to completely move on. “Had you not come home,” Jace tells me as he releases me from his hug, “I would have gone over there and killed them for you.”
A smirk rips across my face. “Thanks,” I tell him before walking out the door and heading down to my office.
I sit there for a while before deciding to get out of here early. I only have one group session this afternoon which Caden will be able to cover. I don’t know what it is, but I feel as though I need some time to myself. So, I get up, grab my shit and head for the door.
I nod to Jace as I walk past his open door so he doesn’t worry and get out of there.
I get in my truck without a plan of what I’m going to do for the rest of the day, so I just drive.
I eventually find myself in the parking lot of the new Rebels Advocate in the city. I sit back in my truck and have a good look as the workmen walk in and out, preparing it for an incredible future.
I can’t help but get out and have a closer look. After all, we are paying these guys. The first thing I notice is the massive sign sitting just inside the door, which will eventually be hung outside, just above the door, declaring this place as Rebels Advocate.
I get chills just from seeing it. This is unreal. Building the first club was like a dream come true, but building the second club, that tells me we’ve made it.
I walk deeper into the building and check out the front check-in area. It still has a bit of work to go, but so far so good. I continue on as there’s much cooler stuff for me to be checking out.
As I walk past the entry, I’m reminded with just how big this place is. It must be at least three times the size of the other one. There’ll be space for at least four or five rings, and a hell of a lot of equipment. Shit, we’re putting three studio rooms in here for group and private sessions.
I walk down the corridor, and check out the changing facilities to make sure everything is coming together nicely. I find myself taking photos of all the changes from the last time we saw this place and sending them to the boys. They instantly reply, wanting more and requesting photos of specific areas, so I happily oblige.
So far, everything that was here before has completely been stripped, even a few of the internal walls to open it right up. All the exterior windows have been replaced and the floors are going in today.
Starting in the new week, it’ll most likely be painted, and as soon as that’s done we can start bringing shit in. There’ll still be a ton of work to get done once the place is physically together. We’ll have to have a kick-ass security system installed, computer systems and software.
Offices will need to be set up and staff are going to have to be interviewed and hired.
It’s going to look amazing and it’ll be the place to be. Every aspiring fighter and every professional one will want to be here.
I can’t fucking wait.
Feeling good about everything here, I get back in my truck and head home. It’s only about two in the afternoon when I pull up and as usual, I find myself gravitating towards the gorgeous little spitfire next door.
“Hey,” I call out as I walk through the door.
“Forget how to knock?” she calls back from deep inside her home.
I walk further and find her in the bathroom, on her hands and knees, chipping away at the old bathroom tiles that don’t seem to be coming up very easily. I walk straight in and lift her off the ground. I put her down on the bathroom sink and instantly claim her lips.
She kisses me back and gives me that sweet little moan that I’ve come to adore. “I’ve got work to do,” she tells me.
“Uh huh,” I murmur as my lips travel down her neck.
Her body starts to melt into mine, but I know her better. She’s far too stubborn to let me have my way with her just now. “You know,” she starts. “The only way you’re going to get laid is if you crawl up a chicken’s ass and wait.”
I chuckle as I pull back and look at her with a growing smirk. “Where the fuck do you come up with this shit?”
She shakes her head and looks at me with sparkling eyes. I push myself in between her legs and grind myself against her. She groans and those sparkling eyes become pleading. “No,” she groans. “I really have to get this done.”
“Really?” I question as my lips come back to her neck.
Her legs wrap around me and she pulls me in tighter. “Yes,” she pouts.
“What if I helped you?” I murmur against her neck. “Then can I have my wicked way with you?”
“Mmhmm,” she moans. “The second the tiles are off the floor, you can have your wicked way with me all night.”
I grin as I step back from the dazzling beauty. “Right,” I say as I grab the tools out of her hands. “This means business.”
Chapter 19
Lexi
I look around my completed bathroom and finally feel content. I mean, it’s fucking amazing
. I finally have somewhere to wash my hair without feeling like I’m standing in someone else’s mess.
It’s nothing short of beautiful. I’d have to say it’s probably the best bathroom I’ve ever done. It was hard work, though, but it’s definitely paid off.
I’ve been here for four months now and the only room left to do is the kitchen. If I’m smart, I’d take my time. The thought of finishing this place and having to sell it, kills me. I don’t want to move out of here. This house has actually become my home. I’ve found a life here that I couldn’t possibly leave.
Not to mention, I have a neighbor that I’m very quickly falling in love with.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s still heaps to do. I have only furnished the guest bedroom and I haven’t even touched the outdoors, so maybe I’m getting ahead of myself thinking about leaving.
It’s a Thursday afternoon and with the bathroom now complete, I’ve sent Mick home. He’s been working his ass off getting everything done. He’s always so quick, but I worry about him. He must be pushing mid-sixties and he’s been keeping up with everything I’ve asked of him.
I must admit, the bathroom has been a little easier on him seeing as though I had to hire a tiler. Tiling is way out of both of our leagues, but he was able to do the installation of the rest of the bathroom. Not to mention, Luke has been popping over every now and then and just silently walks through the front door, picks up a tool, and starts helping Mick out. It absolutely warms my heart when he does it. Especially when he sends me one of those panty melting winks, waiting for Mick to finish for the day before he takes me up against the wall.
God, just thinking about it gets me hot. The man is an absolute god.
With the weekend right around the corner, I’ve told Mick not to bother coming in tomorrow. He deserves a break, and to be honest, it will give me a chance to start removing the old kitchen before he gets in on Monday. Besides, he should take his wife out on a date. He’s always telling me how she keeps asking for a day out together.
I’ll have the whole weekend to take my time with the kitchen removal and if I time it well, I’ll also have a chance to catch up on a little Game of Thrones on my iPad. I’ll have to be careful, though. The last time I watched that, I ended up binging on the whole series and lost way too much sleep.
With my afternoon myself, I get comfortable on my new timber hardwoods, which run right throughout the house. Apart from the bedrooms of course, which are now finished with a lush, squishy carpet that feels like clouds beneath my feet.
I get myself hooked up to my drip and start flicking through the online catalogs of every furniture and homewares store in the area. I’ll have to furnish this place eventually, but I’m trying to decide between hiring the furniture for show or buying it and selling the house fully furnished. Too many questions that I just can’t be bothered to answer.
Naturally, I get distracted by my phone and start scrolling through Facebook when a crash outside steals my attention. My eyebrows furrow and I get to my feet.
I take hold of my drip and make my way over to the window to peek out. The sight before me has my teeth grinding together.
God, I’m ashamed to admit that I ever had anything to do with this man. He’s the biggest lowlife I’ve ever met. Like, get your shit together, dude. How many times is he going to hit rock bottom before he finally decides to do something about it?
My d-bag ex-husband struggles with the door handle of his car, which is parked diagonally across the curb with my mailbox right underneath. It’s as clear as day that he’s been drinking again. Though, I don’t know why I’m always surprised by it. It’s just the way he is now. Especially when he decides to visit me. I don’t think I’ve seen him sober once since before I left.
I let out a breath and shake my head as I watch his appalling performance. That dumb jackass. What the hell is he doing here? When will he learn that there is nothing here for him?
I look up at my drip and notice that I still have a few minutes left before I can unhook myself, and decide the fucker can wait. I flick the lock on the front door and head down to the back to do the same.
Getting comfortable, I watch out the window as the idiot stumbles up the pathway, managing to trample the only flower I have in my dodgy little garden.
After what feels like forever, he finally makes it up onto the front porch. He heads straight for the door and tries the handle. He wiggles it once, then does it again. It’s his fifth time when he realizes it’s actually locked and it’s not going to magically open.
“Alexis?” he calls through the door. “Open the damn door. I know you’re in there.”
I let out a huff but ignore him as he attempts the handle again.
For fuck’s sake.
I hear his heavy boots cross the porch as he makes his way to the window and peers in. The second I see his face, I recognize the angry set of his eyebrows. Just great. I let out another huff. This really isn’t what I wanted to deal with on my first lazy afternoon in months.
His eyes search me out and the second he sees me sitting here and ignoring him, he calls out. “Alexis,” he demands. “Open the fucking door.”
I point to my drip as though he can’t possibly see it. “I’m on my drip,” I call back. “You’ll have to wait a few minutes.”
His eyes narrow on the drip and then move back to me. He knows I’ve just given a bullshit excuse. After all, he used to be the one to help me out. He’d bring me a bowl of ice cream and a magazine every time I was on it, but that was a long, long time ago. He knows perfectly well that I’m more than capable of getting myself around with this thing.
“Fuck, Alexis,” he yells. “Open the door or I’m going to bust it down.”
“You mean like you just did to my mailbox?” I call. “You better be fixing that shit.”
“I didn’t touch your fucking mailbox,” he slurs.
“Right,” I groan, “It just magically appeared underneath your piece of shit car?”
He turns around and I watch as he squints towards his car and notices the mailbox buried beneath. I can practically see him thinking of something smart to say, but we all know he’s got nothing. He turns back to the window and tries to jimmy it open.
“For fuck's sake, Jeremy,” I yell as I get myself up and head towards the door. “You’re going to break it.”
“Then open the door.”
“Are you fucking blind?” I yell. “What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”
His heavy boots practically run across the porch and the second he hears the flick of the lock, he barges through the door. I step back out of the way to avoid being hit by the door and give him plenty of room. I don’t want any repeats of last time, so I’ll be playing this one smart.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
“You know exactly what I’m doing here,” he spits. “I want my fucking money back.”
I resist groaning at the douchebag. “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t have your money. I never had it. You drank every last cent we had. You left us with nothing and that’s exactly what I went with.”
“You’re a fucking liar, Alexis,” he growls, taking a step towards me with his finger pointed out.
“I’m not lying, Jeremy. I don’t owe you a damn thing. If anything, it’s the other way around. I left you four years ago so I didn’t have to deal with this bullshit anymore. I even paid off all your fucking debt.”
“You can’t talk to me like that,” he demands. “You’re still my wife.”
“Yeah,” I grunt. “Only because you refuse to give me a divorce. You know that costs me every time I send you those papers.”
“Then stop fucking sending them,” he snaps. “You’re my wife whether you like it or not and that’s not about to change. So you can shove your divorce up your ass.”
Agghh. This man is easily the most infuriating person on the planet. I had assumed that Luke easily took that position with his irritating little pranks, but
this shit with Jeremy is a whole new level. He boils my blood and I can’t stand it.
“Jeremy, I haven’t got your money and I don’t owe you a damn thing. So, now that we have that cleared up it’s time for you to get out of my house.”
He holds his hand up and points to the ring he still wears on his finger. “You know what that means?” he starts with a sick grin. “It means that this is my fucking house too. So, why don’t you go right ahead and pack up your shit.”
My hands ball into fists as my teeth clench down hard. “Over my dead body,” I scream at him as I push myself forward. I raise my fists and bang them against his shoulders, making him stumble back a few steps in his drunken stupor. “I’ve worked my ass off to build a life after you tore it down. It’s not my problem that you’re a drunk and keep wasting your money away. Stop coming after me.” I push him again. “Everything you see here is mine and you will never get your greedy hands on it.”
He goes to say something, but I’m not nearly done.
“Here’s an idea,” I tell him. “Why don’t you sober your miserable life up, stop acting like such a fucking loser, and get your shit together. You could have had all this and more if you knew anything about self control. Look at yourself, you’re a loser, Jeremy. You don’t have a cent to your name, you’re a drunk, and a lowlife. I’m embarrassed to even admit that I used to be married to you.”
His face scrunches up in anger, but I don’t care. Finally getting the words out feels amazing. I might have taken it too far, no one deserves to be yelled at… Nope, stuff it. He deserves it.
I mean, who does he think he is coming here and trying to take my home away from me?
“You little fucking bitch,” he growls before storming forward. “You’re going to regret that.”
“I highly doubt that,” I grunt. “Now, get your sorry ass out of my home.”
He attempts to tower over me and scowls down at me. He raises his fist, but we both know he’s too chickenshit to hit a woman. Though, I might have just pushed him a little too far this time.
I want to taunt him, tell him that he doesn’t have the balls to do it, but then, this man is very different from the one I used to know. Taunting him might actually push him to do it.
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