Playing with Fire_Shen

by Shen, L. J.

  “Good talk. Next time Grace and I have an issue, I’ll come directly to you.”

  He rose up to his feet, took my hand, and pulled me into a bear hug. I shook in his arms and didn’t even know why. Something about what had happened was emotional for me. Maybe because West had told me he didn’t go down on women normally. That it meant something to him. I buried my head in his shoulder.

  “Do you know what I wanna do right now?” he murmured into my hair.

  “What?”

  “My girlfriend. I want to do my girlfriend right this second. Ready to roll?”

  “I was born ready.”

  West got out, wiping his glistening mouth with his forearm as he shot the stunned guy on the other side of the door an indifferent, go-screw-yourself smile.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. The tampons are in the bottom drawer. All yours.” He gestured to the open door mockingly.

  I followed behind him, and we dashed out, practically skipping our way to Christina the Ducati.

  West

  Max: Sorry, bro. Shaun says fight’s still on. I tried everything I could. I swear.

  Max: He said he’ll let you off the hook if you take the financial blow and compensate. Interested?

  Well, that gave the word fuck a whole other, less pleasurable meaning.

  I’d agreed to take the fight with Kade Appleton prior to hooking up with Grace. Now that I wanted to bow out of it to keep her ass pacified (and presumably myself alive), Appleton, who’d agreed to all of the rules I’d dictated to Max some weeks ago, called me out on it and came back to the negotiation table with an ultimatum: pay up the losses or fight.

  Nothing about what he asked made sense. We’d lost zero money since we hadn’t sold any tickets yet. Hadn’t even officially announced the fight. Still, reasoning with Appleton and his manager was like trying to teach a toad linear algebra.

  West: Tell him to go to hell.

  I tucked my phone into my back pocket at the food truck. The fight was getting closer, and I didn’t want to lie to Grace about what was going down, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to pay the bastard with money I didn’t have either.

  “What’s with you?” My girlfriend flashed me a crooked smile, rubbing my arm. We were closing up for the night. I dropped a kiss to her ball cap.

  “Nothing. Just Max being Max. Can Marla stay with Grams a few minutes more? I want to grab a bite before we head home.”

  Home. I was half-living with Grace at this point. Luckily, East was too busy dipping his dong in every other female on campus to mind my absence. I’d barely seen him at Reign’s party. I needed to sit Texas down and tell her what was up with the fight, with no interruptions.

  “I’ll check.” She moved from the open window to the fridge, putting away some containers. I’d leaned over to roll the window down when I noticed movement in the dark. Two pairs of eyes twinkled from behind black ski masks, staring back at me.

  Male.

  Large.

  And goddamn threatening.

  I heard the soft click of a gun as the hammer cocked back.

  “Unlock the door”—the cold barrel pressed against my bare wrist—“unless you want your precious arm blown off.”

  The mask muffled the voice, but the order was clear.

  I took a step back, holding my hands up. The desire to smash their heads together was strong.

  “I’ll hand you the money through the window,” I said evenly.

  And your ass later, when I figure out who you are.

  Grace stiffened in my periphery, her breath catching.

  “We know you’re not alone. Open the damn door,” the man said.

  “You want money, be my guest. You want access to the girl, you’re going to go through me. Friendly advice—you aren’t gonna like it,” I hissed.

  There was no point pretending Texas wasn’t there.

  The man raised his gun, firing one bullet. It grazed my shoulder and lodged into the metal roof of the truck like gum. Adrenaline pumped in my veins, and my fingers itched to take action. Not doing shit when provoked wasn’t in my DNA.

  I was going to fucking end them, given the chance.

  “Unlock. The. God. Damned. Door.”

  Grace saw the blood and cried out, rushing to the door and unlocking it with shaky fingers.

  Fuck, baby. No.

  The masked men didn’t waste time. They burst into the trailer, flipping everything that wasn’t drilled into place upside down. I shoved Grace behind me. She dug her phone out of her pocket. While I handled asshole number one, asshole number two grabbed it from her hands and tossed it to the driver’s seat. Asshole number two then headed straight to me. Neither of them made a move toward the register.

  My attacker tried throwing in a punch. I dodged it, crouching down. I sent a jab from hell to his torso. The sound of his rib cracking filled the air. He folded in two, saliva dribbling from his ski mask.

  “Motherfucker!”

  I grabbed his friend by the collar of his shirt and hurled him across the trailer, away from Grace. There were too many people inside the truck. But I knew the guy I tossed around had the gun. I pounced on him, prying the gun out of his hand and throwing it out the window. I raised my fist, about to knock his lights out, when his friend grabbed me by the back of my shirt and smashed me against the fridge. They both climbed up to their feet, throwing me down, and started kicking me in the ribs, shoulders, and head.

  Texas’ shriek pierced through my ears. I had a flashback to when she’d told me it was her grandmother’s scream that made her find the Samsonian strength to fight back.

  She jumped on one of them, trying to shove him away from me. “Leave him alone!”

  Why didn’t they take the fucking cash and leave? But the answer was clear—they weren’t here for the money. They were here for me.

  I grabbed one of the guys’ legs as he was about to smash it into my face and pulled him down with me. He struggled to clamber up, and I used the opportunity to bracket him with my thighs. I grabbed a can of refried beans and smashed it against his face. His nose broke with a pop.

  Crack.

  I hit his forehead next, watching as his ski mask soaked with blood.

  Crack.

  Next, I smashed the can against his mouth, hearing his teeth cracking. Soon, I pounded into his face with the can so furiously, I was pretty sure there was nothing behind that mask but a pool of blood. All I saw was red—and the threat of someone hurting a person I cared about.

  Not again, bastards. Never again.

  The guy he’d come with was trying to crawl out of the trailer, moaning in pain. Somewhere in the distance, I heard Texas yelling hysterically. At first, I thought she was upset about my getting injured, but then her voice became sharper.

  “You’re killing him! West, stop! Please! Lord, stop this!”

  Her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me away from the bastard. She collapsed on top of me, her forehead sticking to mine. Our hair matted together with sweat. She was sobbing.

  I pushed to my feet and gathered her into a hug, kissing her cap.

  I knew she was frightened, and that a huge reason for that was my reaction. The guy underneath me was unconscious—maybe dead—lying in a pond of his own blood. The other guy was grousing, reaching for his phone.

  I kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Gimme one sec.”

  I turned around and walked over to the moaning attacker, pressing my boot over his fingers around his phone and hearing them snap. He wailed. I tore the ski mask from his face in one go. Two brown eyes blinked back at me. I recognized the guy. He’d been with Appleton’s entourage the night we’d fought.

  Taking off the other guy’s mask would achieve nothing, other than freaking Grace out even more. I already knew who they were and why they came here.

  The man shook all over, his teeth chattering. I leaned forward, whispering in his ear, “Tell your boss I said hi, take your fucking friend with you, and never, ever come back.”<
br />
  I threw the ski mask over his face, turning around back to Grace to give them time to get the hell out. Having them here when she called the police—and she undoubtedly was going to do that—wouldn’t do me any good. Just uncover my list of highly illegal actions, including the fight I was still preparing for.

  Grace struggled in my arms. “Wait, let me get my phone. I need to …”

  I held her tighter. “You need to calm down first.”

  Idiot One carried Idiot Two out to the dark, his uneven stumbles on the gravel giving away the fact they were both going to be in crutches tomorrow morning.

  “We should call the police.” Grace frowned, fighting against my grip.

  “You sure?” I bought more time, letting them run away. “They didn’t take a dime.”

  “Are you kiddin’? We have to tell the cops. Or at the very least bring it to Mrs. Contreras and Karlie and see what they want to do about it. Look at you. You’re all banged up.”

  “Baby.” I took her hand in mine. The floor was slippery with blood. The place was going to be a bitch to clean up. “They were just a couple punks looking for trouble.”

  “They had a gun, West.”

  “They didn’t use it.”

  “They shot your shoulder.”

  I glanced down at my shoulder, pulling at my collar to see the damage. The skin was red and angry, but my guess was the bullet hadn’t even grazed my flesh properly. It was just heat.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not takin’ this seriously. Is there something you know about this that I don’t?” Her eyes narrowed at me.

  The more she knew about Appleton and his doings, the more she was involved. And she couldn’t be involved. It was my shit to fix. From now on, I was going to keep the thing with Grace even more under wraps. Both for my sanity and her safety.

  Canceling the fight wasn’t an option anymore, but as long as Appleton didn’t know of her existence, he couldn’t hurt her.

  I was going to see it through, thrash the jackass, take the money, and push him out of my life for good.

  “You’re right. Let’s tell Karlie and Mrs. Contreras. They need to know.”

  By the time I said that, the bastards were gone anyway.

  It was just semantics.

  But it bought me more time.

  A couple hours later, I was in Grace’s room, freshly showered. That wooden chair Texas had put in the shower for her grandmother turned out to be mighty handy tonight. Every muscle in my body screamed in pain when the scorching needles of water pounded over my flesh.

  I lay down half-naked on her bed, which smelled like honey and shampoo and her pure, unique scent, texting Reign and East in a group chat. There was no point adding Max. Sucker was about as helpful as a bag of Skittles during Armageddon.

  East: It’s Appleton. Of course he’s behind this. It’s got his name all over this kind of operation. I told you not to take the first fight, @West.

  Reign: You can’t not-retaliate. You’re going to look weak.

  East: @Reign are you high?

  Reign: Of course I’m high. We’re off-season. What kind of question is that?

  East: Why poke the bear?

  Reign: Because it’s already wide awake and tried to put its dick in West’s wife.

  Reign: (I’m paraphrasing here, West. Nobody is trying to put their dick in Grace. Thought I’d clarify, since you’re supremely pussy-whipped these days).

  There was nothing I wanted more than to go directly to Kade Appleton’s house and smash everything within sight, including his goddamn face. As it happened, I couldn’t even TP his front yard. I couldn’t do jack shit. I needed to keep my head down and make sure Grace remained a secret.

  Because Grace was my weakness.

  And Appleton thrived on exploiting others’ weaknesses.

  West: No retaliation. He’ll answer to me in the ring. Which reminds me—Grace cannot know about the fight with Appleton.

  Reign: How can you keep this from her? Shit’s gonna sell out in a day.

  East: Your friend here is not wrong, Westie.

  West: I’ll tell her closer to the date. She’s got a lot on her plate. She doesn’t need to worry about this too.

  Between finding a caregiver for Savannah, and potentially failing a semester, Texas didn’t need to worry about me. My plan was to spring it on her the day before the fight. Explain why I had to do it, even though I’d tried to get out of it, and assure her it would all be over in less than twenty-four hours. That way, she’d worry about me for a day, not weeks.

  East: I’ll tell Max to keep the ticket sale on the DL.

  West: Appreciate it. How’re things going with Tess, @Reign?

  Reign: They aren’t. Her lady boner is still firmly directed at you.

  East: She’ll come around.

  Reign: And on my face.

  East: Amen.

  I wasn’t Tess’ number one fan after she’d been bitchy to Tex, but I was all for her hooking up with Reign. The faster she landed in the idiot’s lap, the less she’d bother Tex.

  East: Talked to your folks recently, @West?

  West: Negatory.

  East: You’re the worst.

  West: But I’m the best at being the worst.

  I’d just sent them a few pictures of my new shiner and welts when Grace entered the room, patting her blonde hair dry with a towel after coming out of the shower. Her face was full of makeup, as always. I’d been with this chick for a while now and still didn’t know exactly what she looked like under all the foundation.

  She was still freaked out, but fairly pacified since we’d called Mrs. Contreras and given her the rundown of what happened. We’d had to wait for the cops to arrive to give a bullshit statement before being promptly sent home. Mrs. Contreras was there, too. She went back with Sheriff Jones to the station to file an official report.

  Texas collapsed beside me, kissing my wounded shoulder. I tucked her under my arm and gave her neck a soft bite.

  She closed her eyes, her little breaths tickling my jawline. Her fingers trailed circles around the tattoo on my inner bicep.

  “Who were you texting?”

  “East and Reign.”

  She cleared her throat. “That it?”

  “Who the fuck else?” Had she missed the memo that I wasn’t exactly a social butterfly?

  “Tess?” she asked quietly.

  I snorted, stroking away ribbons of gold hair from her face. She looked so much like an angel, sometimes I wanted to run a hand over her bare back just to make sure she didn’t have wings.

  “Green looks good on you, Tex.”

  “Remember the first time we met?” She strummed my hair with her fingers, like I was a violin, her head tucked under my arm.

  Of course I remembered. It was the night I’d lost the bet to Tess and bought everyone slushies and tacos. Tess and I had probably looked chummy that night. It was the same night I’d bent her over the Ducati and fucked her raw in the junkyard, barking at her to mind the paint. It made sense that we were cool with each other. That was how guys operated—we were nice to chicks we wanted to bang, until we banged them.

  The morning after I’d twisted Tess’ gymnast ass like a pretzel, I gave her a ride home and got rid of her number. I was crude enough to make a stop at the food truck for the job interview, to make sure the position wasn’t taken.

  “Vaguely,” I lied, mostly because it was pathetic to admit most of what I remembered from that night included Grace, not Tess. “Why?”

  “Tess asked you what the tattoo on your bicep meant while I served you.”

  My heart stopped beating for a second. She proceeded with caution and determination.

  “What does the tattoo mean, West?”

  I knew I had to tell her. That if I didn’t, she’d think she and Tess were in the same category. They weren’t. Tess was a one-night stand, and Grace … Grace was an every-night lay. A girlfriend. The first girl to mean something to me in a long wh
ile. She ought to have known that.

  “A stands for Aubrey. My baby sister.”

  “You said you’re an only child.” I felt her eyes fluttering open, her lashes flapping over the side of my chest like little butterflies.

  I sucked in a breath. “No. I said I have no siblings. And I don’t. She died when she was six. I was seventeen at the time.”

  “Oh.” The quiet around us was so loud, I wanted to rip down the walls with my bare hands just to hear the crickets outside. “I’m so sorry.”

  What could I say to that? Thank you? I hated thanking people who didn’t help me. Being sorry for my loss didn’t bring Aubrey back.

  “How?” she asked.

  I felt my split lip reopening as I bit down on it. “Car accident.”

  “Were you in the …?”

  “No,” I snapped. The wound of her death was too raw for me to pick at it. “There you have it, Tex. Something you know and Tess doesn’t. No one does. Well, other than East. Can we stop talking about it now?”

  She didn’t answer. Rightly so. I was being a prickly sonovabitch again.

  A ten-minute silence stretched between us. I hoped to hell she’d never bring Aub up again, but knew that in all probability, she would.

  “You okay?” I asked finally, when I felt her going under, surrendering to sweet slumber.

  “Yeah.”

  I knew it was a lie.

  I still took it.

  Grace

  A for Aubrey.

  It didn’t mean anarchy or asshole or any of the things I’d guessed as I’d tossed and turned in the nights we were just friends, trying to read the impossibly mysterious West St. Claire.

  Aubrey. What a beautiful name. The pieces were finally clicking into place, creating an exquisitely tragic picture.

  West had gone through one of the greatest losses one could experience. His parents were broken after losing their daughter, possibly being in the car when it happened, possibly even being the reason why the accident occurred in the first place.

  West was trying to help them back on their feet financially, but he still hadn’t forgiven them for Aubrey’s death.