Fix You: Bash and Olivia, Book 3

by Christine Bell

  I squealed and launched myself at Matty, legs shaking with relief. To his credit, he handled the spontaneous display of affection well, hugging me back and patting my shoulder absently as he called his brother’s name and cheered.

  “He did it. He fucking did it.”

  Bash was led around the ring in a circle and then down the stairs. He pulled away from the handler amid high fives and congratulatory slaps on the back from now-adoring fans and headed our way. A line of blood still trickled from the cut above his swollen eye, but other than that he looked okay.

  Hell, who was I kidding? He looked amazing. Vital and alive and healthy and frigging amazing. He stopped a few feet from me and I let go of Matty to face Bash head-on.

  “Congratulations,” I murmured. Ignoring the blood and sweat, I leaned in and kissed him gently on the mouth. “I’m really proud of you.”

  The rest of that speech—the part where I ripped him a new asshole for scaring us and risking his health and safety that way—could wait until later. After I’d gotten past the just-grateful-he-was-alive stage and could feel anger toward him again.

  “I’m so sorry about earlier tonight. I’ll make it up to you,” Bash said into my ear right before Matty pulled him in for a half hug.

  His voice sounded suspiciously thick as he told Bash how proud he was of him. “We have to take care of that eye ASAP, bro,” Matty continued as he stood back and surveyed his brother’s injury.

  Bash raised his fingers to the wound and winced as he explored the area around the cut. “Yeah, it’s definitely swollen and needs a half dozen stitches, I think, but Mickey has a cut man here who can—”

  “Cut man, my ass,” Matty snorted. “Is he a pro, like your trainer out there? Fuck that. We’re going to the emergency room. You need a real doctor.”

  “The whole point of this was to make money. If you don’t want Mickey’s guy to do it, then you can do it at home, but I’m not going to the ER. It will cost a grand, easy.”

  The McDaniels boys faced off against each other, and it was something to see. They looked so different, Bash with his stubble of black hair and piercing blue eyes and that stubborn jaw, and then Matty with his close-cropped honey-colored hair and laser-green eyes and that just-as-stubborn jaw, but just the expressions on their faces were so similar, it was easy to tell they were brothers. Brothers who loved each other like crazy.

  The goon who’d led him from the ring wound up breaking the tension and ending the standoff by tapping Bash on the shoulder and gesturing behind him. “We gotta go. Mr. Flynn wants to see you.”

  "I'll be back in a few minutes. You guys can meet me by the exit—I shouldn't be long."

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Matty beat me to it, barking out a laugh.

  "You think I'm letting you out of my sight right now? You obviously can't be trusted." Matty faced the goon, a blatant challenge in his gaze. "We'll go see Mr. Flynn together. You have a problem with that?"

  The guy looked like he was going to argue but then shrugged his beefy shoulders. "Hey, man, I'll bring you over there. It's up to him if he lets you in.’

  I swallowed a sigh of relief and latched on to Bash's arm. We cut through the crowd quickly, although we got held up a few times by new fans wanting his autograph. I was still riding on the high of his victory and relative good health when a girl in a tank top stopped right in front of him and lifted her shirt to expose her boobs encased in a barely there lace bra.

  "Can I have your autograph?" She handed him a Sharpie with a flourish, and I was about to take it and jam it up her nose when he shook his head.

  "Sorry, I'm in kind of a hurry."

  She pouted her overly lined lips and ran a finger over his biceps. "Maybe later then?"

  He gave her a tight smile and went around her.

  "Is this what it's like?" I called to him over the chatter of the now-dispersing crowd.

  "What do you mean?"

  He glanced back at me with a carefully blank expression, and I was pretty sure I had my answer. So apparently, part of being Bash's girlfriend meant dealing with hos trying to hook up with him. Apparently that was a common occurrence in real boxing too. Groupies.

  I tightened my fingers on his arm and he gave my hand a squeeze. We had more important things to worry about right now, but once this was all settled, I was going to have to do some serious soul-searching. I refused to be one of those whining, simpering women who lived in constant fear and paranoia of their man cheating. Bash had done nothing but prove time and time again that he was honorable and loyal and a true gentleman. We couldn't control how anyone else behaved, and with everything we'd already been through, I sure as hell wasn't going to let some silly trick get between us.

  Bash pulled up short as Mickey's muscle stopped in front of a door.

  He knocked three times and swung it open, waving us in. "These two insisted on joining us. You want I should take them outside, or…?" He leveled a questioning brow at his boss, who smiled.

  Oddly enough, I’d imagined him being bigger, for all the trouble he’d caused us, but in reality, he was small enough that the giant chair he sat in dwarfed him.

  "Nah, they're okay. I'm sure they won't be any trouble now that we're in business together, am I right?" He aimed the question at Matty, who stiffened beside me.

  "I don’t know about being in business, but I have no plans to cause any problems," Matty said, but his tone was icy to say the least.

  That clearly didn't worry Mickey any, and he gestured to his boy to go.

  Once the door was shut, he leaned back in his chair and clapped his hands together three times. "Bravo, kid. Bra-fucking-vo." He shook his head, a bemused grin splitting his face. "I didn't think you had it in you. I'd heard about you around town. They said you were slick and smart. You proved that tonight."

  He leaned down to tug open a desk drawer and reached in. Bash and Matty both took a step in front of me, at which point Mickey laughed. "What? Like I'm going to shoot you? What am I, an animal? I got your money, is all."

  He tossed a pile of bills bound with a rubber band onto the scarred desk and it landed with a thunk.

  "Five grand."

  He said it and sat back, waiting. Like he was waiting for the argument.

  Bash didn't disappoint. "Bullshit," he spat, and stepped forward to smack the desk with a taped hand. "You know I gave them a hell of a show out there, Mickey. I earned more than that."

  "That's debatable, kiddo. See, my line of work requires more than a few fighters coming out there with a fancy move or two. It was only a couple rounds. We need four or better to really make it worth people's while. You fought for a total of six minutes. Where else can a guy without a college education make five g's in six goddamned minutes?"

  "In a fucking boxing ring, that's where," Matty said, stepping up to stand next to his brother. "He could've gotten killed out there. We all know this isn't a per-hour gig. The money has to be enough to make the risk worthwhile." His voice was getting louder by the second and the dread in my stomach was getting worse the louder he got. This wasn't going to end well.

  Bash put a hand on Matty's now-heaving chest and pushed him back with a murmured word in his ear that I couldn't make out. When he faced Mickey again, he seemed calm and in control. "Let's be reasonable here, okay? We both know you made out huge here. The money you let Matty borrow is in your possession to loan out again at your usual rate, and you had to have made a killing on that fight. No more money needs to exchange hands. You keep that, wipe his debt from the books and we all walk away happy, okay?"

  Mickey's eyes took on a cunning glint that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He looked to me and tipped his head. "You the girlfriend?"

  I wet my lips and nodded slowly. Bash stepped closer to me and took my hand.

  "She's got nothing to do with this, Mick. Let's keep it between us."

  He waved him off and kept his gaze locked on me. "What do you think would happen, missy, if I just let them
back out on a deal without there being any consequences? People would start to call me soft. Think I'm a sucker. I can't be nobody's sucker, doll. That's suicide in my business. You understand?"

  I swallowed hard and looked away, hoping that was a rhetorical question, but then reconsidered. "Well, I wouldn't think you were a sucker. I'd think you were a fair man and I'd want to do business with you." My voice cracked on the end, but not bad, all things considered.

  He nodded approvingly and turned his attention back to Bash. "She's a keeper. She's got big balls, like the two of you. I'll tell you what. Take the five grand and I’ll think this all over, look at the numbers from tonight, then I'll give you a call tomorrow. At the very least, you've bought yourself a little more time to get the rest of the cash. If I can do more for you, I'll let you know."

  He stood and walked to the door, swinging it open wide. Matty seemed to hesitate, but Bash gave him a shove and he started walking. There wasn't much else to do at that point. Now we'd have to wait, and odds were pretty good this whole thing wasn't over.

  And still? Bash was okay. I could deal with anything that came my way now. As we walked down the hallway toward the exit, I was already thinking of where to take my car to get the best price for it when Bash tugged me to a stop.

  "We'll meet you back at the apartment," he said to Matty. His brother nodded and made his way through the door out toward the parking lot.

  "Let's just go, Bash. I don't want to spend another second here," I said, leaning closer, soaking in his warmth. He pulled back, his intense gaze captured mine, and I forgot everything else for a second as the world fell away. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and dipped down until his face was level with mine.

  He kissed one corner of my mouth and then the other before whispering, "Thank you. Thank you for caring enough to come. Thank you for realizing you couldn't stop me. Thank you for being you." His beautiful face was so sincere, my heart nearly exploded. "Mickey's right. You got balls, doll."

  The words comforted me from the inside out and I offered him a hard-won smile. "You should've seen me earlier. I broke away from this guy and kicked him in the nuts just like you showed me. Hard, too. You would've been proud."

  His eyes clouded with worry, but I shushed him before he could grill me.

  "It was fine. A silly thing, but I was glad you taught me those moves. I feel stronger every day I'm with you. But if you ever keep something like this from me again, you're going to see exactly how tough I can be."

  He nodded and bent to give me one last kiss, this time on the mouth. "Roger that."

  He slung his arm around my shoulder and we stopped off at the locker where he’d stored his street clothes and keys, and then headed out to his car. I felt a thousand pounds lighter without the weight of his possible impending doom on my shoulders. Now to go back to his apartment and watch Matty stitch him up.

  "Do you guys ever, like, I don't know. Go out for ice cream? Kick back and watch a movie? I'd kill for a few days without gangsters and cops and bloodbaths. What do you say? Can you pencil me in for one night of normal? Just to recharge our batteries."

  He laughed and winced, holding a hand to his eye. "Sure thing. I'll get right on it."

  We got into the car and as I settled into the worn seat, I realized that I'd take a night like tonight over a night of wining and dining and dancing…so long as it was with Bash.

  If someday the two things intersected? Well, that would be gravy.

  ***

  Bash

  Searing pain lashed through me and I tried not to flinch. "Fucking cocksucker!"

  "Stay still, asshole," Matty muttered, pursing his lips as he leaned back to admire his handiwork. "If you didn't keep moving this would go a lot faster."

  He could say that, but considering someone was sewing me up like a prom dress, I was staying pretty still, in my opinion. Plus, it might have been me being paranoid, but this wasn't the first time Matty had stitched me up, and he was being rougher than usual. It felt a little like payback.

  "Hurts, huh?" he asked with a grin as he slid the needle in again and tugged the thread through.

  I gritted my teeth and scowled. "Yeah, and you don't have to sound so happy about it." So apparently I wasn't being paranoid. Matty was definitely enjoying himself.

  "This is why you shouldn't go off on your own and pull shit like this. It was my mess, and I was getting it cleaned up."

  I snorted and rolled my eyes at him. "Actually, it was my mess that had you going to Mickey's in the first place. Nice try, though."

  Liv, who had been a little green around the gills and silent through the procedure, piped up then. "Actually, it was my mess with Andy that started this whole thing, so can the two of you cut the shit? You're not making me feel any better. Stop with the blame game and let's get this over with. I'm pretty sure if I have to watch this for another minute, I'm going to blow chunks."

  I'd told her for the past twenty minutes that she could go in the other room, but she insisted on staying by my side and holding my hand while Matty “operated.” She'd been squeezing my fingers so tightly that my battered knuckles protested, but I wasn't about to complain. Fact was, she was the only female who'd ever cared enough to sit through something like that for me, and I kind of liked it.

  “Done,” Matty said and snipped the thread with a tiny pair of scissors. He sat back and handed me the mirror he’d set on the kitchen table. “Looks good.”

  I examined the cut and had to agree. He might have been a little heavy-handed, but the result was optimal, with a neat little row of stitches closing the wound tight. He’d pressed out the swelling beforehand and it was already looking way better. I’d have a shiner by morning, but all things considered, not too bad.

  If I was really careful with it and kept it nice and clean, it would be hardly noticeable by the time I got back in the ring, assuming the Spada fight didn’t get canceled while I did hard time for assaulting Olivia’s ex. The grand jury hearing was in ten days, and until then, it was all up in the air. Liv had gotten me a lawyer who was supposed to be aces, and if he had his way, my case might never even go to trial. In any case, that was a problem for another day.

  As Matty packed up his kit, I could feel Liv tensing up. The fight had been with Stan The Tank tonight, but I was pretty sure I was headed for another battle and this one could be just as brutal. She’d been great so far, but Liv’s good humor about the whole thing was wearing off, and I knew the second she got me alone, I was in for an earful.

  I cleared my throat and yelled after Matty, who was heading for his bedroom. “Where are you going?”

  “To bed,” he called back over his shoulder. “It’s four a.m. Plus, I figure you guys need some time to talk.”

  Thanks for nothing, asshole.

  “Oh, I meant to tell you, Reid texted me earlier,” he said, pausing mid-step. “He won his fight.”

  “Excellent.”

  A surge of pride ran through me. That was awesome news. Matty was supposed to have been with him in New York for this match, but had to come home early when Mickey’s boys broke into the gym and trashed the place. I hated that all this shit had resulted in Reid’s having to fight without one of us in his corner, so the fact that he’d pulled out the W anyway went a long way to making me feel better.

  Now if Mickey would call tomorrow and work with me to get this whole matter settled for good, we’d be in business. Slow and steady, getting back on track, all of us.

  Including Liv. She was eyeing me now, like she knew what I was about with the stall tactics, and I called out a quick good-night to Matty before facing her.

  “Look, I know I fucked up.” Best to get it right out there in the open. Maybe she’d appreciate my humility and let me off easy.

  She stood and pulled her hand from mine to glare down at me. “Damn straight you did.”

  And then again, maybe not. I opened my mouth to explain, but she shut me down with a finger to my lips.

  “Never
again, Bash. That’s all I want to hear from you right now, is that you will never lie to me about something like this again.” Her cornflower eyes were full of fire. “We’re either a team or we’re not. It’s your decision, but I’m not going to be pushed into a corner like a child every time things get tough. If you can’t handle that, then let me go now.”

  Even the words made my stomach clench. The thought of letting her go again was unfathomable. But that meant I’d have to change my ways, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy.

  I took her by the wrist and pulled her gently down onto my lap in spite of my aching muscles. She was stiff at first, but I rubbed her back until she settled against me as I tried to put my feelings into words. Explaining how I got to be this way didn’t absolve me of my sins, but maybe it would help her understand why I was the way I was.

  “My dad died of an overdose when I was ten.” She shifted in my arms, trying to face me, but I couldn’t get it all out with her looking at me…seeing the pity on her face. I held her in place until she took the hint and stilled again. “Even before that, he was a shell of a person. My mother was in charge of the house. Of us. Of him.”

  Memories of days past ran through my mind on a loop, none of them good. How to explain Sherri McDaniels to a person who had never seen something like that in real life?

  “When I was five, I spilled a glass of milk on the living room rug. She beat me with the cord from an iron and then locked me in the closet overnight.”

  I said it like I was reading from the back of a cereal box, hoping the matter-of-fact delivery would lessen the shock of hearing it, but Olivia’s whole body went stiff. I pressed on, desperate to get it over with so we could move forward and never have to talk about it again. “Matty sneaked down in the middle of the night to bring me a peanut butter sandwich, and she caught him. So she went into his bedroom and made him watch while she cracked his pet turtle open with a hammer, and then she threw him in the closet with me.”

  “Jesus, Bash,” she whispered and turned, despite my efforts, until she was cradled in my lap and could wrap her arms around my neck. “I’m so sorry that happened to you guys. God, I’m so, so sorry.”