Fighting for Forever

by J. B. Salsbury

  “Elijah is dead.” A shadow passes through his eyes followed by resolve. “I killed him, and I’d do it again if it meant saving you.”

  Mason

  Saying good-bye to the Las Vegas County Police Department less than twenty-four hours after being taken there was better than I expected. I don’t know who pushed my case to the front of the line, but when I shove through the glass door and out into the desert sun, the grins on the faces of the three men waiting for me gives them away.

  “Baywatch, welcome to the LVPD Ass Rape Club.” Blake loops an arm around my neck and thumps my back. “Now you gotta learn our motto.” He stands up tall, puffs out his chest, and cups his crotch. “You fuck with the law; they fuck right back. Protect your junk and your ass crack.”

  I scratch my head, my lips curling. “I’ll pass on the membership, but if it’s okay, I’d like to transfer it to my brother.”

  Blake laughs just as Rex approaches.

  “Glad you’re out, man.” He shakes my hand but pulls me in for a quick hug.

  “Hey, I have one question.” I scowl between Blake and Jonah. “Was it just some crazy coincidence that Hodgeson and Blake have history and he’s the one who orchestrated the whole takedown?”

  I wait for them to fill in the blanks, to sate my curiosity.

  They share another look and I shake my head. “See, that shit right there. What do you guys know that you’re not telling me?”

  Blake steps forward. “Gia called us right after you two took off. I called Dave and he told me what was going down.”

  Jonah shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “Couldn’t let you face that shit alone, brother. Hodgeson told us to hold back, let them do their job, said they had a shit ton of undercover men with Elijah and Hatch’s crew.”

  No wonder that night didn’t end up a bloodbath. We thought we were outnumbered. But some of them were cops. Makes sense because none of us should’ve walked away.

  “I made it clear that wasn’t an option.” Blake shifts his gaze from me to Rex. “We have each other’s backs. Always.”

  Fuck if all this shit doesn’t make me want to cry like a pussy-ass baby. “So that’s why you guys kept holding me back that night. You knew the cops had a plan and—”

  “We didn’t want you to fuck it up by getting killed.” Jonah slaps me on the back of the head. “Looks like your official.”

  “Officially what?” I rub my injured arm as the wounds seem to flare with the reminder of that night.

  He crosses his arms over his chest, looking lethal. “One of us.”

  I absorb the warm feeling of belonging that seeps into my veins. All I’ve ever wanted is to be an equal member of the UFL Team, but from day one, I felt like an outsider, like a pledge who had to prove himself to be accepted.

  I mirror Jonah’s stance. “So that’s it? All I had to do is kill someone?”

  The air wires with tension, as if what I said was inappropriate or disrespectful. I’ll never regret what I did. Not a single day of my life will I feel bad for making it so Trix, her family, Drake, Jessica, and my niece or nephew, can all breathe easy knowing that evil bastard has been wiped from the earth. And if I serve time for that, I’ll gladly take it.

  The guys are still quiet, all of them darting eyes between each other.

  I shrug. “What? Too soon?”

  With that they burst into laughter and lead the way toward the parking lot.

  “Nice to see incarceration hasn’t changed you, Baywatch.” Rex slaps me on the back of the head as he passes.

  “Ow, fuckface! How ’bout you let up on the stupid nicknames.” I rub my head. “If I’m an equal, why the fuck do you piss-suckers keep smacking me?”

  “We like your hair.” Blake pulls open the back door of Jonah’s truck, ushering me in. “Come on, Hasselhoff. Quit being a bitch.”

  I pass him and into the back seat when another stinging slap comes to the back of my head.

  Fuckin’ hell, even though I’m tempted to whirl around and sink my knuckles into Blake’s chest, I don’t. Because brotherhood is about having each other’s backs, fighting for what’s best, and making sure your brother knows it.

  Way my head’s burning, I don’t think I could ever forget it.

  After the guys dropped me off at home, I took a long hot shower. Standing in the tiled space, my eyes closed, I remember the night Trix showed up in tears. How I wish I could go back, tie her up, and never set her free until she agreed to leave all that shit with Hatch alone.

  If only.

  With strict instructions to keep my wounds as dry as possible, I reluctantly shut off the shower and grab a towel when my phone vibrates on the bathroom counter. I grab it and move to answer when the caller ID catches my eye.

  “Fuck.” I wrap my towel around my waist, hit “accept,” and head into my bedroom. “Got nothing to say to you.”

  “You answered, so there’s a start.”

  “I’m serious, Drake. I get that this was all planned and you needed an out, but next time, use your fucking woman as bait.”

  I’m met with silence and then throat clearing. “Fuck, brother—”

  “Don’t fucking call me that.” I stare across the room with the memory of Drake dragging my woman, blindfolded, cuffed, and gagged, to the desert for what she thought would be a slow death. “You’ve lost the right to call me brother.”

  “We’re family.”

  “Family isn’t dictated by blood. It’s determined by loyalty, and you proved you’re a selfish prick.”

  He huffs out a breath. “Alright, I deserve that.”

  “Fuck yeah, you do.” The memory of Trix, fear flashing in those violet eyes, her shirt soaked in blood, assaults me. Yeah, Drake deserves a lot worse.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry. If I thought there was a better way, I’d have done it. They were gunnin’ for Trix anyway. I knew she’d be safe as long as Hatch and I were with her. Elijah would’ve sent one of his goons if I didn’t volunteer. I’d never let anyone hurt her.”

  A feeling akin to regret rolls around in my gut, but I push it back, unable to fully accept his reasoning, even if on some level it does make sense.

  I run a hand through my wet hair. “Need time.”

  “I get that.”

  Silence builds between us.

  “Right well . . . Take care.”

  I hit “end” and drop back to the bed. Fuck. He’s right. I know he is, but even with time, will I ever be able to forgive him?

  Thirty-nine

  Trix

  No matter how many times I stare at the boxes in front of me, I can’t help but feel like I’m forgetting something. Amazing how the last four years of my life fit in a dozen boxes and a suitcase. I check each label, making sure the ones that need to go into storage are clearly marked and the ones that come with me are too.

  My stomach tumbles with excitement.

  After I left Mason in the hospital two days ago, he ordered me to pack my things saying, “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I want you with me until it does.”

  It didn’t take much reading between the lines to understand what he meant: he wants to be together until the day they lock him up.

  The thought of saying no didn’t even cross my mind. If this last week has taught me anything, it’s that life is fragile. From here on out, I’ll take advantage of every opportunity, and when it comes to Mason, there’s no place else I’d rather be.

  Turns out that my moving in with Mason isn’t only a comfort for each other, but it’s practical too, seeing as I’m jobless.

  I quit Zeus’s. I didn’t give notice, or even have to show my face. One call to my boss and he let me go and even said he’d give me a glowing recommendation. It ended up being a lot easier than I thought, but something tells me Detective Hodgeson had something to do with that.

  Hodgeson wasn’t aware of Santos’ involvement in my kidnapping. Although Drake and Hatch were working closely with the police,
Santos wasn’t and turned me over without the knowledge that I’d be safe.

  That information stung like a bitch.

  I still don’t blame him for what he did. Hatch’s guys did have Diane, and from what I hear, they beat Santos pretty bad after he turned me over to ensure he kept his silence, but betrayal is still betrayal.

  I move through the house one more time, ready to leave my old life behind and start a new one. The memories of this house will stay like ghosts searching for peace while I move forward without a backward glance.

  My phone chirps with a new text.

  Hope you’re ready. Once I get you home, I’m never letting you go.

  I grin and bite my lip, amazed that I can feel the sincerity behind his words by simply reading them.

  Even if you let me go, I’d never leave. No good-byes, remember?

  I hit “send” and hope that bringing up the breakup call Hatch insisted I make doesn’t hurt him—my phone chirps.

  Good-bye? What language is that? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.

  I let my fingers fly over the keys in response.

  It doesn’t concern us. What does concern us is that I’m anxious to see you after two days, and if you don’t pick me up soon I might explode.

  His response is instantaneous.

  Well then get your sexy ass out here. I’ve been sitting in your driveway for five minutes.

  My heart leaps in my chest, and I race to the door, swing it open, and find Mason halfway up the walk. We both stop, staring with wild eyes and devouring each other before I move. He must see it coming because he braces seconds before I launch myself into his arms.

  He grunts from what I assume to be his stab wounds, but he doesn’t let me go. One hand cups my ass, and the other digs into my hair, pressing my face into his neck. “Fuck, baby, I missed you so much.”

  “Me too.” I run my nose along his neck, drinking in his earthy sweet scent with the knowledge that I’ll get to do it every day from now until . . . I shake off the heavy feeling that comes along with an uncertain future and just hold on tighter. “Am I hurting you?”

  “Nothing hurts when I’m with you.”

  I smile against his corded neck. “I mean your arm. Does it hurt to hold me?”

  “Answer’s the same.” His hand slips up my thigh and under my cutoff shorts to grip my bare bottom. He groans, and his fist in my hair tightens. “Your roommate home?”

  I chuckle, and the sound rolls from my throat thick with lust. “No, but I don’t want to stay here for another second.” Leaning back, I fix my eyes on him. “The next time I’m naked with you I want it to be in our bed.”

  The fog of desire clears from his crystal-blue eyes for a second, and love like I’ve never seen shines from their aqua depths. Just like floating on that surfboard and staring out into the infinite sea, locked in Mason’s eyes I’ve never felt more a part of something. More needed, complete.

  And finally free to hold tight to my forever.

  Forty

  Trix

  The next few weeks pass in a blur. Mason and I have nothing but time to settle in to our new lives together. Mason’s back to training at the UFL; bypassing doctor’s orders to take four weeks off, he took one.

  I’ve started working part-time at the Youth Center until something full-time opens up. If there’s one look that could rival Mason’s when he came to rescue me in the desert, it would be the relief and joy on Denny’s face when I showed up at the Youth Center. His bright eyes and larger-than-an-eight-year-old-face-can-handle smile only solidified my purpose in life: to love kids who don’t get enough at home.

  Other than the occasional nightmares and Mason disowning his brother, I’d say life is good. Great even. Better than I ever expected.

  Turns out Detective Hodgeson was right. The DA didn’t press charges for Elijah’s death, and all the guys came out of that night as local heroes. We were able to put the night behind us and focus on moving forward.

  But, there’s just one last thing I have to do.

  I check the clock on the bedside table, waiting for the last number to click over from nine to zero when the strong arm that’s tossed over my body tightens around my chest. One big hand cups my breast, and I’m pulled back into the cradle of Mason’s torso.

  “How long you gonna stare at it?” His groggy voice at my ear sends waves of goose bumps across my skin.

  I sigh. “I’m willing it to freeze.”

  “How’s that working?”

  “It’s not.”

  His low chuckle makes me grin. “Shooting ice with your eyes, huh?” His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Been watchin’ too many Disney movies.”

  I turn in his arms, and he loosens his hold to allow me room before tugging my body flush with his. He slides his massive thigh between mine, and our legs tangle beneath the sheets. My body warms, and I’m amazed at how even the softest, most innocent touches feel erotic.

  He kisses my forehead. “Nervous about today?”

  I sigh and nuzzle into his neck. “I don’t want to go.”

  “Then don’t.” His tone is serious and laced with anger.

  “I have to. You know I have to.”

  He nods, but the way his muscles tense says it all. He doesn’t want me to go.

  After Hatch was released from the hospital and put in prison, his lawyer said they’d grant my parents and me a private meeting. I immediately turned them down, not interested in hearing what he has to say or bringing up the past that would only upset my mom and dad. But my parents insisted on going. And I can’t let them go alone.

  “It’s fucked up I can’t be there with you.”

  I peer up into the most loving and loyal set of blue eyes that soothe my frazzled nerves. “His lawyer set the terms. Besides, it’s probably best to keep you two separated.”

  “Psht. Guy deserves to get his ass—”

  I press my lips to his and hold them there until his muscles unclench and he exhales. “Let’s not talk about him.” I check the clock over my shoulder then turn back to the handsome and nearly naked man in my arms. “I have twenty-five minutes before I have to be in the shower.” I slide my hand beneath the elastic of his boxers and tease him with my fingertips.

  He groans.

  “There has to be a better way to spend the next twenty-five minutes that doesn’t involve talking about Hatch, right?” I bite my lip to keep from smiling as he flashes me a crooked grin.

  He grinds the long and hard muscle of his thigh between my legs, his hands moving to my ass. “I can think of a few things.” He falls to his back, pulling me with him so that I’m straddling his leg. “But it’ll take a fuckuva lot longer than twenty-five minutes.” He nips at my mouth, dragging my lower lip between his teeth.

  “Okay, I won’t wash my hair.”

  He runs his smooth lips down my jaw to my neck, sucking gently.

  “Mmm . . . or wear makeup.”

  He smiles against my throat. “So how much time do we have now?”

  “Almost an hour.” I bite my lip as his mouth glides against my throat.

  “Oh, I can do plenty in an hour.”

  “Give me all you’ve got. I’ll need it to get through today.” My hips roll on their own accord, seeking out friction.

  “Mmm.” He sucks at my lips. “I’ll leave you aching, baby. Sore and needy.” He lifts his thigh, his hands on my ass, rubbing me to him. “Only thing I want you feeling today is me.”

  “It’s not too late to back out.” I watch through my rearview mirror as my mom worries her hands in her lap, her gaze fixed on a lot of nothing outside the car window.

  She must know I’m looking, because she simply shakes her head. Her hair is pulled back in a low, loose bun, and the circles under her eyes speak of lost sleep.

  “Dad,” I whisper. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  He reaches over and pats my hand. “We already endured the worst of the pain when we lost Lana.”

  “I know,
but”—my eyes dart from the long stretch of highway to my mom, who’s still gazing out the window—“is rehashing all this good for you guys. I mean I don’t know if mom can handle reliving it.”

  “We’ll see.” He turns his gaze out the window, and in minutes, the signs for the State Prison of Nevada come into view.

  I pull into the lot, remembering to breathe, not looking forward to being reunited with Hatch, and wishing like hell Mason were here with me.

  We walk silently through the lot, and I can’t help but notice the lack of color. The buildings are all the exact same shade of beige as the earth that surrounds them. The pale brown gives it a non-threatening look; like the desert, it appears benign, abandoned of life, when it’s anything but.

  We move through the screening process, and once we’re deemed safe, a guard leads us to an empty room. The floors are concrete, and nothing is inside but a metal table and chair bolted to the ground, surrounded by a few foldable ones.

  “Have a seat.” The guard is all business as he motions to the flimsy plastic chairs. “Prisoner will be in shortly.”

  The door shuts behind him, and I jump as the sound echoes through the room. My dad takes the middle seat, and my mom and I the ones on the outside. His jaw twitches beneath his beard, the only sign of nerves or anger I’ve seen on him. Minutes morph into an agonizing wait until finally the door opens. My mom sucks in an audible breath, and my dad grips my hand and pulls it to his thigh.

  A slender guy wearing a tan suit and glasses, with dark hair that’s thin on top, steps into the room first. “Mr. and Mrs. Langley.” He nods to my parents and turns to me. “Miss Langley.” Another nod. “I’m Charles Yarner, Mr. Dusinsky’s lawyer.”

  Okay, so Hatch’s last name is Dusinsky. Not the most threatening biker name, I have to admit.

  Neither my parents nor I do more than give a quick acknowledgment.

  Two guards move through the door followed by two others. The last two flank a shackled Hatch. His face is still riddled in fading yellow bruises from the beatdown Rex delivered, and it looks like his nose is at a different angle from what I remember. His bright orange suit makes his large frame less intimidating, and his shaved head and face make him almost unrecognizable.