The Fight for Forever

by Meghan March

  He shrugs. “The Jets lost. And the only ones winning this game are the refs. Besides, you’re family now. Shit like this is what we do.”

  And just like that, this big burly man melts my heart. “Thank you, Mr. Quinterro. I really appreciate it.”

  “Big Mike. Or Big Daddy, if Gabe’ll let you.” He scrunches his nose and winks at his wife, who is already reaching out to swat him on the arm.

  I break into a grin. “Thanks, Big Mike. I’ll get back to you on that.”

  Thirty-Seven

  Legend

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Francine, Rolo’s on-again off-again girlfriend, stares at me through the inch-wide gap between the door and the frame, her beady eyes just above the chain.

  “Why do you think? Looking for Rolo.”

  “He ain’t here,” she spits out, her voice full of venom.

  “Would you tell me if he was?”

  “Hell no. You bailed on him after you got what you needed. Real shitty, Legend. You know he thought of you like a brother? And then you turned your back on him. Not cool. Not at all.”

  “Listen up, Francine.” Q cuts in, stealing her attention. “Rolo’s got himself into some real bad shit, and it’s gonna bite him in the ass. Unless you want the next time you see him to be in a closed casket, you need to tell us where the hell he is.”

  Her mouth screws up into a tighter frown. “Yeah, right. You ain’t got the balls to kill anyone. You’re just Legend’s pussy errand boy.”

  Q smiles, and I’ve seen that ticking time bomb before—it’s taking everything he has not to explode. “You better back the fuck up, Francine,” he sings with an obviously over-the-top friendly voice and then waggles his eyebrows at her. Quinterros always seem to smile while they lose it.

  She jerks away from the door just as Q kicks out and busts the chain right off it, sending the door flying open.

  Francine screams curses at us as she stands back with her arms crossed over her chest. “You piece of shit. Both of you. And that old man with you too. You just breaking into people’s houses now?”

  I shrug as I walk right by her and check the kitchen before making a quick circuit of the rest of the apartment.

  No Rolo, and no sign that he’s been here in ages.

  I come back to the living room and break through Francine’s temper tantrum with a shout.

  “Hey. Listen up. You know where he’s at, you call him and tell him that he needs to get in touch with me. Bodhi Black says Rolo just tried to take out his knee to stop this fight, and Bodhi’s on the warpath. You’d rather have me find Rolo first, if you know what I mean.”

  Her hands fly in the air, and it’s clear from her bouncing tits that she doesn’t find bras necessary. “Like I give a fuck about some random dude’s knee. Get out of here before I call the cops. I’m gonna have to blow the fucking super to get this door fixed.”

  I shake my head at her. “Might want to clean up that crack pipe in your bathroom before you do any of that, Francine. And if you see Rolo, tell him we’re looking for him.”

  Turning on my heel, I walk out with Q and Hal at my back.

  My phone starts ringing as soon as the door slams behind us.

  “You think Rolo knows we’re here?” Q asks as I pull it out of my pocket.

  “No way.” I glance at the screen. “Besides, it’s Scarlett.” I tap the glass to answer. “Hey, ladybug. What’s going on?”

  “Well, I’m with Big Mike, and we’re headed to the Manhattan Detention Complex to bail out Flynn. If you’re not too busy, I’d appreciate you meeting us there.”

  All three of us freeze in front of the elevator.

  “Come again?”

  “Flynn got arrested. I’m going to get her out. You want to join the party?”

  I look up at Q, who is shaking his head, and I can’t help thanking God he already got some of his frustrations out on Francine’s shitty door. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

  “Nope.”

  “We’re on our way,” I tell her. “Meet you there.”

  “Thank you, stud. I love you.”

  “Love you too, baby.” I hang up the call, and Q’s eyebrows might as well blend directly into his hairline.

  “You’re fucking kidding me with this bullshit, right?”

  “Fuck if I know. Come on. Let’s go.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Scarlett

  Gabriel, Q, and Hal meet us on the sidewalk in front of “the Tombs,” which are made up of the four fifteen-story towers of the New York City Criminal Courts Building, and I pull an envelope of cash out of my purse.

  “I didn’t know how much to get out of the safe. Do you think ten thousand will be enough?”

  “What the hell did she do?” Gabriel asks with a look of incredulity on his handsome face.

  “I have absolutely no idea. She said she was on a date with a guy, and there was some kind of misunderstanding.”

  “Of course there was.” This comes from Q, who is raking his fingers through his jet-black hair. “That girl is a damned menace.”

  “Hey, she’s my sister. Be nice.”

  “I’m confused,” Big Mike says, breaking into the conversation. “I thought you said she was your stepsister.”

  “Ex-stepsister, but I’m claiming her as family anyway,” I say to clarify. “Thank you for the ride, Mike. You don’t have to stick around. I’m sure Joanie would be thrilled to have you come straight home.”

  The older man waves his hands in front of his big belly. “No way. I want to meet this little hellion for myself. You never know, maybe she’ll be exactly the girl I’ve been waiting to match up with Marcus. It’s not like I haven’t bailed him out a time or two. Isn’t that right, Inmate 3775?”

  Q’s head whips hard to the side. “Dad. That was ages ago. And fucking Christ. The girl’s only like eighteen.”

  “Twenty,” I say. “And very smart for her age. She’s put herself through college on her own dime.”

  “Street-racing cars,” Gabriel adds with a grin. “She’d make a hell of a daughter-in-law, Mike.”

  Q grabs Gabe by the sleeve and shoves him in the direction of the double doors. “All of you, shut the fuck up. Let’s get this shit over with.”

  I can’t wipe away my smile, despite the circumstances. Q’s face is way too red for me to stop grinning.

  We head inside. Apparently, the process is much easier than usual since I brought cash, and we don’t need to wait for a bail bondsman. Flynn is released a half hour later. I stand up as soon as I see her coming through the doors to the lobby wearing a black crop top, a little red skirt, and thigh-high black boots. A little risqué for a date, but okay.

  “Flynn!” I rush toward her and wrap her in a hug, squeezing hard. “Please tell me you’re okay. Nothing happened in there?”

  She squeezes me right back, just as hard. “Thank you so much for coming. God, I’m so glad your douche ex-boyfriend sent you to that sex therapist, because I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had to call my mom.”

  I wince, hoping not everyone heard her, but Flynn sounds as young as a twenty-year-old should, which is out of character for her. From the dark circles beneath her eyes, she didn’t get any sleep. “What happened?”

  She glances over my shoulder, and her eyes go wide. “Whoa. Did you bring everyone? And strangers to witness my walk of shame?”

  I twist to see Gabriel, Q, Hal, and Big Mike all standing a few feet behind us.

  “Flynn, meet Big Mike, Q’s dad. We were at a barbecue at their house this afternoon, and he brought me here. Gabe, Hal, and Q met us.”

  She nods at them with color rising on her cheeks. It may be the first time I’ve ever seen her embarrassed. “Nice to meet you. Sorry about the trouble. It was a big misunderstanding.”

  Big Mike waves her off. “Always is.”

  “What’d they pick you up for?” Gabriel asks.

  Flynn shakes her head. “Not here. Can we at least go out on the sidew
alk? Because I need some fresh air like now, and I never want to come back.”

  “Well, you’ll have to because I just paid your bond, and if you don’t show up in court, I lose it.”

  “Come on. Let’s go.” Gabriel holds out a hand to me, and I take it and follow him outside.

  Once we’re on the walkway, Q stares down Flynn. “They impound your car too?”

  Her shoulders go back, and her chin shoots up. “What makes you think this has anything to do with my car?”

  “It’s a logical assumption, considering what you’ve been doing.”

  Flynn shakes her head. “I don’t really want to tell you. God, it’s fucking embarrassing.”

  “What? I’m starting to freak out here, and I need to know what’s going on before I make some crazy guesses,” I tell her.

  Flynn’s gaze drops to the pavement. “They picked me up for prostitution. Okay?” Her head comes up, and her face is now completely red.

  All four men near me choke. “What?”

  Q bursts out, “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re hooking now too?” He begins to pace.

  “No! It was all a misunderstanding.”

  “Want to tell us what happened?” Gabriel asks, his tone gentle and not the least bit judgmental. I’m tempted to kiss him right here just for that.

  “I went out with some guy, and we ended up at a frat party. I don’t usually do frat parties, but I was bored and didn’t have a race, and I don’t know how to sleep at night much anymore. So I went. And when we were there, the cops busted the party because they got tipped off that prostitutes were there . . .”

  “And they thought you were one too?” I stare at the tiny crop top she’s wearing, and the skirt and thigh-high boots. Although they’re designer and definitely not hooker wear, I can see how cops who are intent on scooping up everyone possible made a mistake.

  Flynn shrugs. “Yeah. Talk about humiliating.”

  “What about this fucking guy who brought you?” Q demands, his expression like a thundercloud. “Didn’t he vouch for you?”

  Flynn presses her lips together and shakes her head. After a beat of silence, she says, “He ran. Left me there to get arrested with the actual hookers and a few other girls.”

  “Didn’t they look at your student ID?” Gabriel asks. “I don’t get how they could fuck that up so badly. They can’t just raid a party and accuse all the females of prostitution.”

  “I didn’t have it on me, and they didn’t believe anything I said to them. They treated me like a criminal. It was awful.” Flynn sounds defeated, which is light years away from her bubbly, confident self.

  “Maybe you should remember how that feels the next time you decide to go racing,” Q says, his tone sharp.

  Flynn pins her shoulders back once more and glares at him. “Go fuck yourself. I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life.” She looks to me. “Can you give me a ride home? I really want a shower and to fall into bed and pretend the last fourteen hours of my life didn’t happen.”

  “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” I ask, aghast at the thought of Flynn sitting in a cell for fourteen hours.

  “Take it up with the justice system and apparently every hooker in town. I got my phone call when they gave it to me. It was a really busy night up in this joint. Can we go?” She looks like a lost little girl, and I nod.

  “Absolutely. Let’s get you out of here.”

  “At least give her your damn sweatshirt, Marcus. For Christ’s sake, the girl’s probably freezing. Did we not teach you manners at all?” Big Mike says, looking at Q disapprovingly.

  Q peels it off and hands it to Flynn. “Here. Keep it.”

  Flynn takes it from him with a quiet thank-you before slipping it on over her crop top.

  Gabriel holds out his arm to point us in the direction of wherever Hal must have parked. “This way. Q, you want me to drop you off at the club, or are you going back to Jersey?”

  Q’s gaze is glued to Flynn in his sweatshirt, and he has to yank his attention away to meet Gabriel’s eyes.

  “Uh . . . I’ll, uh . . . go with my dad. I got some shit to do at home.” His focus returns to Flynn and hangs there for a long moment before he finally nods at his dad. “Let’s go to Jersey.”

  “See you tomorrow, man. I’ll call you if I hear anything on Rolo,” Gabe says, and Q gives him a salute in return. As he and Big Mike take off down the sidewalk, we go in the opposite direction.

  But as we’re walking, I notice Flynn glancing over her shoulder.

  Hmmm . . . I’m not sure what to think about that.

  Thirty-Nine

  Legend

  An hour and a half after we leave the slammer, we finally make it back to Curated, which seems empty with Roux still in Jersey with Bump.

  Scarlett took her time getting Flynn settled at her apartment, which I would have done too if she were my sister. To say the normally ballsy girl was shaken is probably an understatement. But Q had a point—what she does on a regular basis is dangerous, and if she didn’t like being locked up, she probably should reconsider her stance on street racing.

  I’m not sure whether that’ll happen or not, but regardless, Scarlett and I will both be here to answer the call if she needs us again.

  “You think they’ll drop the charges?” Scarlett asks as she twists her hair into a messy bun.

  “If she gets a lawyer on it. They’ll be able to prove she’s a student, no problem. And with her grades and her family’s good name, hopefully it’ll be an easy case.”

  “What if they ask about the money she’s been using to pay her tuition?” Scarlett asks, concern creasing her features. “Wouldn’t large cash deposits suggest she could’ve been engaging in illicit behavior?”

  “Hire her a good lawyer. I doubt it’ll even get that far. They’ll take care of it. I promise, ladybug.”

  Scarlett bends her neck from side to side, and I move across the room to stand behind her and press my thumbs into her traps.

  “Oh God, that feels so good.”

  “Makes my dick hard when you moan like that.”

  She twists to look over her shoulder. “Really?”

  I lean forward to nip at her lips. “Of course. Damn near every fucking thing you do makes my dick hard. Taking your hair down. Putting your hair up. Watching you walk. The way you chew on your lip when you’re working through a problem.”

  She turns in my arms, and I resettle my palms on her shoulders. “So . . . I know it’s been a long day, but . . .” Her gaze dips to my mouth.

  “You asking me if I’m up to making you scream my name when you come? Because the answer to that question is always a yes, ladybug.”

  A smile tugs at her lips as she leans in for a kiss. “Good. Because I could really go for a few orgasms right now.”

  “As you wish.”

  I take her mouth, deepening the kiss and tilting her head to the side. The first taste of her always sets me on fire and clears my mind of anything but Scarlett.

  Dropping one hand to her ass and burying the other in her hair, I maneuver her toward the kitchen counter. My dick jerks against my zipper when she spears her fingers through my shaggy blond mane.

  “I could kiss you forever,” she whispers against my lips, and I pull back.

  “Good, because that’s the plan.” I lift her up onto the countertop and get lost in her. Her scent. Her sounds. Her shallow breaths that turn into whimpers when she wants more.

  She’s greedy, reaching for the hem of my T-shirt and tugging it upward, scraping her nails across my abs, which are more pronounced now that I’ve been training like a madman and neurotic about my nutrition. Her moan of appreciation as she glides her fingertips across the planes of my muscles makes every fucking minute of work completely worth it.

  As soon as my shirt clears my head, she stares at what she’s uncovered. “I told myself I’d make this last. That we’d go slow. But . . .”

  “You want it hard and fast,” I say, my voice de
epening, turning husky with the need she unleashes in me.

  Scarlett catches her lower lip with her teeth and nods before releasing it. “At the gym . . . when you were all sweaty . . .” She squirms on the counter.

  “You liked that.”

  Her needy gray eyes answer for her.

  “You wet now, thinking about it?”

  Another slow nod.

  “Damn, baby, that is so fucking hot.” I grip the edges of the countertop on either side of her legs and fit myself between her knees. “Don’t know why I’m surprised. You’re a five-alarm fire every damn time I get my hands on you. I’d let you burn me alive.”

  Her pupils dilate, and I have to clench my teeth not to rip her off the counter and take her on the kitchen floor.

  “I’ll fuck you like that anytime you want, ladybug. Including right now.”

  I tuck my fingers into the belt loops on her jeans and yank her to the edge before freeing the button and tugging down the zipper. As I peel the denim down her legs, I press my face into her pussy, breathing deep.

  “Goddammit, but you smell so fucking sweet. I’m gonna eat this pretty little cunt of yours first before I fuck you.”

  Scarlett releases a shuddering breath, and her head rolls side to side.

  I toss her jeans to the floor and scrape my teeth over the lace of her panties. Lavender. So fucking innocent and sweet. The exact opposite of what I’m going to do to her right now.

  “You like to wrap that sweet pussy up pretty for me, don’t you?”

  “Just for you,” she whispers.

  “I fucking love it, but they’ve got to go.” I tug her panties aside, revealing her plump, slick pussy lips. It’s only been a few days since I’ve had my hands on her naked, but it feels like a lifetime.

  I drag my tongue up one side of her slit and groan at her taste. “Like fucking whiskey. You go straight to my head.”

  I give the other side the same treatment before circling her clit as Scarlett tries to buck against my face. I reach out and snag a wrist in either hand before flattening her palms out on the counter.