The Landry Family Series: Part Two

by Adriana Locke

  I give her time to read it, process what I’ve seen, before I look at her. “I don’t care who that bastard is, I’m going to dismantle him.”

  “He couldn’t whip his way out of a wet paper bag,” Camilla sighs, sinking back in her pillows. “So if that makes you feel more like a man, go for it. Just know if I wanted to beat him up, I probably could.”

  “That was Barron, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  Exhaling a long, shaky breath, I look at the doorway again. “He really asked you to Paris.” It’s not a question, although I questioned it before. I know it’s true because I read the text. “Some dumb shit asked you to another country.”

  I could never take her to another country. I can barely take her out of this county. Who is she hanging out with where invitations to France are tossed casually around and why did this Barron Monroe think she was fair game?

  “As you can see, I told him no. Which is more, I might add, than you told Red.”

  “Damn it, Cam,” I growl. “I needed the help.”

  “She looked handy all right.”

  I twist around the best I can. “I’ve known her for years.”

  “I’ve known Barron since we wore diapers. Does that make a difference to you? Barron also didn’t touch me tonight—”

  “You better hope he didn’t,” I say through clenched teeth, the mere thought of it making me want to come unglued as I turn to look at her.

  There’s a shift between us that wasn’t there before tonight. I don’t know what caused it or how to fix it, only that I won’t be sleeping and I won’t be saying anything that will be helpful tomorrow. And by the look on her face, she won’t either.

  Standing, I grab my shirt off the floor and pull it over my head.

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “Home. I have a bunch of shit to do and I’m not going to sleep anyway.”

  She sits up, her gown barely covering the tops of her breasts. “I’m sorry, not about Barron because I can’t help that. But I am sorry about the Red stuff. I need to let it go.”

  “Yes, you do.” I bend over and give her a simple kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  She starts to say something, but I keep walking. It’s probably better than me sticking around. We’re both irritable and it’ll end in a fight. There are no two ways about it.

  Thirty

  Camilla

  “Here they are in green,” I say, holding up a pair of yoga pants. “I think she said she has them in a grey now too.”

  Joy and I search the racks of Halcyon, looking through Ellie’s new arrivals. Her business is really picking up, and she and her business partner, Violet, have hired a couple of people to help them. They especially need it now that Ellie’s going to be a mama.

  “I didn’t know you were here,” Ellie squeals, coming around the corner from the back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were stopping in?”

  “It was a last-minute decision,” I tell her. “We were having lunch down the street and decided to come in for yoga pants.”

  “I love hers,” Joy gushes. “I need them in every color.”

  “There are a bunch in the back that we haven’t put out yet. Let me go see what’s back there.”

  She disappears, leaving the two of us milling around with a few other customers.

  “How are thing with Dominic?” Joy asks.

  “Good.”

  “And the lie detector reads that’s a lie.”

  “It’s not a lie. They aren’t bad. They’re just … not as great as they have been.”

  “What’s going on?”

  I shrug again, flipping through a rack of shirts. “I’m mad that this little gym rat keeps hitting on him. He’s mad that Barron asked me to Paris.”

  “Barron Monroe? Ew.”

  “I know,” I sigh. “I’d never go. But it’s enough to make Dom frustrated and ready to kill.”

  “Pardon me for saying this but that would be … oh my God.” Her eyes bug out as she looks over my shoulder. Just as quickly, she goes back to the rack of clothes. “Who in the hell is that?”

  Looking back, I laugh. “Hey, Nate!”

  “What’s up, Priss?”

  “You know him?” Joy hisses. “Introduce me.”

  “Nate, this is my friend Joy,” I say as he gets closer. “Joy, this is Dom’s brother, Nate.”

  He stutter-steps as he takes her in, a slow grin splitting his cheeks. “Nice to meet you, Joy.”

  “Same here. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Not really,” she giggles. “But isn’t that what people are supposed to say?”

  “Excuse me for butting in,” I say, laughing. “What on Earth brings you here, Mr. Hughes?”

  “I saw your car and knew this was your family’s place. It’s driving me crazy hanging on to this check and I wanted to give it to you and not be responsible for it anymore.” He takes an envelope from his pocket and extends it to me. “Thank you again, Cam.”

  I take the envelope, but he pulls me into an unexpected hug before I get my arm back. “You are a great friend,” he whispers in my ear. “And you’d be an even better one if you told me Joy doesn’t have a boyfriend. Not that I really give a shit, but I need to know which angle to come at it.”

  Laughing, I pull back and shake my head. “Free,” I mouth, watching his eyes light up.

  “Joy, do you have any plans for this evening?” he asks, jumping right to the point.

  “No. And if I did, it would be nothing I can’t move around.”

  He grins. She swoons. I can’t help but giggle.

  “Would there be any chance we could hook up and grab some dinner or something?”

  “I’d love that.”

  I leave them standing by the yoga pants and make a beeline for Ellie as she comes back into the room. “I love watching love,” I sing-song.

  “What did you do now?” she asks.

  “I didn’t do anything. Fate just swung by and—voila! Dates are being made.”

  “Nice,” Ellie giggles.

  Nate says something and Joy throws her head back and laughs. His face is lit up like I’ve never seen it and it warms my heart for them both. They exchange numbers and Nate heads for the door, stopping short of leaving.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell Ellie. Making my way across the store, he waits for me. “How’d that go?”

  “Lord, she’s beautiful. And funny. We’re going to dinner at six.”

  “She’ll love you.”

  “Hey, take it easy,” he jokes. “I’m just looking for a lay.”

  “You are not, asshole. You need a good girl to settle you down, and Joy might be the one to do it.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll see.”

  “Yes, we will.” I toe at the rug. “So, how’s Dom today?”

  “You haven’t heard from him?”

  I look at the ground, my heart sinking with it. “He’s irritated with me. I’m irritated with him. I don’t think we’re in full-blown avoidance, but the communication isn’t flowing either.”

  “I heard about Hannah,” he cringes.

  “I hate her.”

  “I won’t fuck her anymore, just for you.”

  “You’re such a jerk,” I say, but can’t help but laugh. “But Dom?”

  He shrugs. “He’s good. A little grouchy, but he usually is before a fight. And with that rib …”

  “He shouldn’t be fighting, Nate.”

  “I agree, but he’s going to regardless of what we say, so it’s always better just to support him and try to help him not get hurt.”

  “Is that what you suggest I do? Just support him?”

  “Always, Priss. Always.” He looks at his watch. “I gotta go. I have a few errands to run and then I take over for Liz at the bar. Need anything, call me.”

  I watch him walk out and jog to his truck. As I watch him climb in, I take my phone out and type a quick text.

 
; Me:I miss you.

  Dom:Going into gym. Talk soon.

  Thirty-One

  Dominic

  “What the hell is this?” I breathe in the steam radiating off the tea in the china cup in front of me.

  “Chamomile.” Cam places another bag in a cup that matches mine, all dainty and painted in light pink flower petals, and then pours water on top. “It helps sore muscles, spasms, and inflammation.”

  “So does whiskey,” I offer, taking a sip. It’s grassy and flowery and nothing I’ll hopefully ever drink again. “Not bad.”

  “I don’t care whether you like it or not, I want you to drink it.”

  She sits at the table across from me and watches me. I don’t know what to say, the weirdness between us from the whole Hannah and Barron bullshit still fresh and heavy. It’s stupid. I know it and she probably does too. If I was in this situation with anyone else, it would be so much easier. I’d just walk away.

  Fact of the matter is that I’m in this situation with her, Camilla Landry, the woman that is the epitome of what they call a “catch.” She’s the catch of a lifetime, the best thing in the world you could possibly haul in. But then I look at the line I reeled her in with, the boat I’m captaining, and I have to consider that I’m a jackass for doing this to her.

  “I can feel it healing me already,” I joke, needing to dissipate the stress in the room somehow.

  She smiles proudly. “See? I fixed you.” She knows I’m kidding, but is playing along with the same need to stop the tension.

  It’s been two days since the charity event. I don’t know why we aren’t communicating, but we aren’t. Part of it is this upcoming fight—both because she doesn’t want me to do it and because I’m focusing on it just to keep from getting hurt. It’s the nature of the sport.

  “You’ll be interested to know,” I say, setting the teacup down, “that Nate called off seeing Chrissy tonight. And he told Hannah he was busy.”

  “Really?”

  “He’s been very … joyful,” I wink.

  “Ah,” she squeals. “This makes me so happy!”

  “She seems nice and I think Nate likes her. At least enough to want to see her again tomorrow night.”

  “Did he tell you he paid me back?”

  “Yeah,” I say, taking another sip of the tea. “Did you tell your brothers to fuck off?”

  She grins, pulling her legs up on the chair. “I did, actually. I just sent them a group text and told them I had the money so they could stop being worried about me being scammed.”

  I shake my head, my annoyance rising. “Maybe they’ll see us for what we are and not what they think we are.”

  “I think you’re wrong about them.”

  “Oh, really?” I laugh.

  “Yeah, really. I talked to my mom about Paulina and Raquel.” She bites her lip to keep from smiling. “She said they were jealous.”

  “Of course they were. Have you seen me?”

  “Oh my God,” she laughs. “You sound like Lincoln.”

  “Don’t do that to me.”

  She laughs again.

  “I’ve missed that,” I admit.

  “What?”

  “That sound. Your laugh,” I sigh. “Right now, you look carefree and happy. Like you used to.”

  Naturally, the look falls from her face at the mention. Her feet go back to the floor and her forehead mars with evidence of how complicated things have gotten.

  “What’s wrong between us, Dom?” She looks at her teacup, twirling it around on the table. “I hate this.”

  “I hate this too. I hate it most because I’m the cause of your missing smile.”

  She frowns, then catches herself and leans forward. “It’s not you, Dominic.”

  “Really? What else is it?”

  “It’s fighting. And Red,” she snarls, then grins so I know she’s not completely serious. “It’s my brothers and charity events and self-absorbed heirs that invite me to Paris.”

  “I’m still busting his ass.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I want things fixed. We have to figure out how to navigate all of this before it causes real problems.”

  “Can we fix it at all? I mean, really, Cam. How much of this will just keep coming back over and over again because of who we are and what we do?”

  “You aren’t fighting after this though, right?”

  “No,” I concede, “but I’ll still go down there and train. It’s my therapy, and God knows I need therapy. I’m tight with Percy; he’s like family to me. You’re still going to do charity work because that’s who you are. It’s … us, Cam, that’s the problem. Not something we can just say we won’t do anymore.”

  Her eyes get watery. I feel like a dick, although I’m trying to be honest. I don’t want to hurt her—that would be the last damn thing I do on purpose. But these aren’t things we can ignore and we may as well get them out there.

  She stands and comes around the table. I scoot back and she wastes no time sitting on my lap. I rest my head on her shoulder, breathing in her perfume with the scents of the body wash she uses just underneath.

  “Tell me we’re going to be okay,” she demands, swaying slowly back and forth.

  “We’ll figure it out after the fight.” I sit up and touch her cheek. “I can only do one thing at a time and I fight tomorrow. I have to focus on that.”

  “How are you feeling? Honestly?”

  “Better. Not great,” I add when she starts to call me out. “But I’ll be fine. It’s just three rounds.”

  “Just three rounds,” she scoffs.

  “Three. Rounds.” I take her face in my hands and kiss her, knowing it will be our last kiss before I fight.

  Breaking the kiss, I stand and look down at her. “I’ll text you tomorrow before I go in the ring. But don’t call, okay? I need to get you out of my head or that’s all I think about.”

  “I’m going to be a nervous wreck,” she says, wringing her hands.

  “Then I’ll text you as soon as I win. Promise.”

  She walks me to the door, that stupid wedge apparent between us.

  “Don’t forget to text me,” she says.

  “I won’t.” I can’t help myself. I kiss her again, this time longer and deeper. “Talk to you soon.”

  “Not soon enough.”

  Thirty-Two

  Dominic

  The lockers behind me were once painted black. Before then, they were red. You can tell by the layers of paint peeling away on each and every one of them.

  A faucet drips in the shower room next to the locker area I’ve been put in while I wait my turn in the ring. The room on the other side of the showers is a little nicer and most fighters pick it … and that’s why I pick this one. I’m alone.

  Not talking to Camilla last night or all day today seemed like a good idea. But I’m starting to wonder if it was a mistake. I thought I could focus on the fight, but all I’ve managed is a knot in my stomach that I can’t get to go away.

  Winning this fight is a must-do. I’ve trained for it, battered myself for it, and I could use the money. Why I can’t block everything else out and feel good about my strategy not only confuses me, it pisses me off.

  I trained through the police investigation when I was a kid. I trained through work lay-offs and break-ups with girlfriends and working two jobs. I even managed to focus when I was working towards my HVAC certification. Now, the final fight of my life, and I’m losing my edge.

  The crowd roars outside and I hear the announcer over the intercom tell the fans to settle down. It’s insane out there, bottles being thrown and brawls starting in the crowd. The energy in this arena, an old warehouse, is all jacked up. That is a distraction in itself.

  Voices come down the hall and I listen as they echo. I make out Nate and know it’s his fist that slams on the metal door before he opens it.

  “Hey,” he says, his head sticking in. “How you doin’?”

  “Ready to roll.”

  �
�Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” He steps in, but still blocks the door. There’s something in his face that causes that knot in my stomach to twist harder. “This will excite you some more. Look what I found.”

  His arm comes off the doorframe and Camilla walks around the corner. She’s working her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at me with wide, curious eyes.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I yell, springing to my feet. “Damn it, Camilla! Can’t you fucking listen to anything I say?”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you I was here,” she whispers.

  “Oh, because that makes it okay. Fuck!” I groan, throwing her what must be a death stare because she flinches, her face paling, but she holds her ground.

  She walks to me, her chin up, posture straight, and puts her hand on my arm. I just look at it.

  “You do realize I’m expending all the rage I need to be spilling out there, right? When the other guy is trying to kill me?”

  “I just wanted to support you.”

  “You could’ve done that from home,” I seethe.

  “Yes, I could’ve. But I wanted, needed, to make sure you’re okay.”

  “There are a thousand people out there just dying to do something stupid tonight and now you are in the mix. How in the hell am I supposed to concentrate when I’m going to be worried about you?”

  “How was I supposed to be sitting at home and not worrying about you? Damn it, Dominic! Don’t you understand?”

  I force a swallow, my eyes trying not to see the emotion in hers.

  “This is important to me. You are important to me.”

  “You are important to me too,” I gulp. “That’s why I don’t want you here.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she insists. “I’ll stay out of the way.”

  I look at Nate. He understands. He shakes his head in frustration with Camilla, but knows better than to get involved.

  “Are you alone?” I ask her.