The Final Fight (Fighting Series Book 8)

by JB Salsbury

  Eight

  Braeden

  “You get your orders?” My roommate Deacon shoves me aside where I’m folding clothes on my bed.

  “Orders?” I stare at him with my eyes crossed. “Duh. What orders?”

  “Ha, ha, dipshit.” He drops to his bed with a Sports Illustrated in his hands. “Iraq. Again. We need to find a war at a tropical beach somewhere.”

  “Six months will go by quick; then you can take a vacation and fuck your way through the Bahamas.”

  He continues to flip through the magazine, knowing I’m right about his sextra-curricular activities. Deacon was born with the kind of face and body that chicks melt their panties for. He’s got the tall, dark, and fuckable thing going on in spades, and he uses his attributes to dick his way through every city he hits.

  “Good point. Besides, I’m a better Marine when I’m sexually frustrated.”

  Speaking of sexually frustrated . . . I snag my phone. Almost time to call AJ.

  We couldn’t connect on Friday night, and by the time I was up and no longer hungover on Saturday, I’d missed her call. Now it’s Sunday, and I’m afraid I’ll miss her again if I don’t get in touch with her between shows.

  I hit her contact and walk outside. The sun is setting, and the salty air blows in off the ocean like a cool slap to the face. I drop down on a nearby bench.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, muff.”

  “Ew.” She laughs and the sound shoots straight between my legs. “I didn’t think you could make muffin worse, but you did it. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. You know it’s become my daily mission to make you laugh.”

  “Oh, I’m not laughing ’cause it’s funny; I’m laughing because it’s gross.”

  “A laugh is a laugh; I call that a victory.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “I miss you.”

  A few seconds pass where all I hear is her breathing, and then she says, “I miss you too.”

  “I had an idea. I’m not crazy about you driving all the way from Vegas to Pendleton alone, but how would you feel about coming out here for a visit? I’ll get us a hotel room, and we can spend my day off together.”

  “I would, but I have shows all weekend.”

  “Shit . . . okay. I wish our schedules lined up better. I never have weekdays off and only a couple of weekends every few months.”

  “Any plans to come back to Vegas?”

  “Not yet.”

  A voice yells something in the background.

  “Shoot, I’m sorry, but I have to go. Stage call.”

  “Okay. Break a leg.”

  “I’ll try!”

  I hit end and stuff my phone in my pocket. There’s an ache in my chest that I’m becoming all too familiar with. I feel it every time I think too much about AJ, and it’s especially worse after every phone call.

  Why am I doing this to myself?

  It’s not like we’re in love. Hell, we spent two nights together. And yeah, she’s an amazing girl, but she lives in a different state. It’s only been a week since I last saw her, and already I feel the distance growing between us. We both have intense work schedules. She’s dedicated to staying in Vegas, and it’s not like I’m leaving the Marines anytime soon, so what the fuck are we putting ourselves through this torture for?

  Don’t overthink it, Braeden.

  One day at a time.

  AJ’s cool as shit.

  I’ll see her when I see her.

  ~*~

  AJ

  I huddle around the group of performers, and Cedric stands on a box in the center of us.

  William pushes up next to me. “Why are we stage-calling so early?”

  “No clue. I was hoping you’d know.”

  “Gather ’round, everyone! I have an announcement to make!” Cedric waits until the entire crew is bunched close around him. “I’m sad to announce that, in two weeks, we’re losing one of our own.”

  A collective aw fills the room.

  He goes on to explain how Miranda, one of the silk aerialists, auditioned for a Broadway show and got it so she’ll be leaving. Lucky bitch. Not that she didn’t earn it, she’s incredible at what she does.

  “No need to worry though. The show here will go on as I’ll be promoting one of our tumblers to take Miranda’s position.”

  A tumbler to a silk aerialist? What kind of a dumbshit would suggest that jump?

  “AJ Pines?”

  “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” William squeals at my side.

  I’m frozen. “Did he just say my name?”

  “AJ, where are you?” Cedric squints into the crowd of performers.

  William shoves me forward. “She’s here!” He pulls my arm from my side and waves it in the air for me. “Here!”

  I finally find my voice. “I’m here!”

  “Come on up!”

  The group parts so I can stumble through, and Cedric pulls me to stand on the box with him. “So? What do you say? Do you accept the job?”

  Holy fuck, this can’t be happening. I’d think this was one of the best dreams ever if it weren’t for my pulse pounding in my ears and my shaking hands. I’m nodding frantically before my mouth can even find the words.

  The crowd erupts in applause.

  “Alright!” Cedric wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Now, let’s have a great show people!”

  The performers go to their positions, and I shake myself out of the daze, knowing I have to get my head back in the game.

  I hop down off the box, but remembering my manners, I turn back toward my stage manager. “Thank you for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

  The good humor melts from his face. “Don’t thank me.” He hops down and passes by me with a shitty expression. “Thank the boss.”

  Andre got me this promotion?

  My excitement is doused in a wave of anger.

  There are a ton of people more qualified than I am for this position, who does he think he is interfering in my life?

  Does it matter? You got a promotion!

  “Five minutes!”

  Shit.

  I’ll worry about him later. Right now I have a show to do.

  ~~~

  It’s close to midnight when I’m finally walking out to my car and completely exhausted. Miranda stayed late so she could evaluate me on the silks and determine how much training I would need before she leaves.

  Her pretty lips pursed every time I attempted one of the more difficult stunts and failed. But I refuse to let my own head be my worst critic. I will master the silks; there is no room for failure.

  We decided on a training schedule that starts at seven in the morning every single day until I take over her role. I can do this. I know I can.

  As I weave through the dark parking lot, the sound of slow clapping catches my attention. And there, leaning against my car, looking like some kind of dark angel, is Andre.

  He pushes up as I get closer. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  I stop a good couple of feet away and stare up at him, trying to sort out the right way to say, “Fuck you!,” without getting fired.

  He frowns. “You’re not pleased.”

  “No, Andre, I’m not pleased. It was you who got me that promotion, wasn’t it?”

  He glares as if it’s a trick question. “Yes.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  He steps closer, but I don’t back down. We had a pleasant dinner and discussed personal things like our families and our aspirations, and although I do feel more comfortable around him, he’s still intimidating as fuck. “You told me you wanted a better role in the show. I thought—”

  “I wanted to earn a better role in the show, not be given it because my boss thinks I have a nice ass.” I suck in breath and cringe. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “I see.” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against my car. I wonder how much that suit costs and if he cares
that my car hasn’t been washed in two months.

  “I appreciate it. I do, but it’s important for me to be deserving of a promotion.”

  “Who says you’re not deserving, Adeline? Your role is tiny, and yet when you’re on the stage, you command the room.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes. I didn’t put you up for the promotion because you have a fantastic ass. I did it because you deserve it. Miranda is good, but when she’s up there on the silks, all eyes in the room are on you.”

  My heart is at risk of beating out of my chest, and for some stupid reason, my eyes burn. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He pushes up and steps in close. “The next couple of weeks are going to be busy, so I suggest you get home and get some sleep.” He moves around me, and the sound of his retreating steps fades behind me.

  “Andre.” I turn and close the distance between us, and in an awkward move, I press myself to him and wrap my arms around his waist.

  His body stiffens, but he swings one hand up to my back.

  “It means a lot that you believe in me.”

  Then something presses to my head, his chin maybe? “Goodnight, Adeline.”

  I release him, and he moves swiftly back into the building.

  ~~~

  Ten days into my silk training everything hurts. My mornings are spent working through the routine until my muscles feel like mush, and every afternoon and evening I’m tumbling. Bruce has texted with open bar shifts, and as much as I hate passing up the money, the only time I’m not working with Eros is when I’m sleeping, if you could call what I do sleeping. When my muscles have finally rested, my mind kicks into overdrive, going over every move, making it impossible to get a second of rest.

  I never thought I’d hate performing, but I’m on the verge of despising it.

  “Don’t say that. You’re better than that.” Another thing I’ve started doing is talking to myself. As my lids fall heavily over my burning eyes, I pull my car into an open spot outside my complex. The only thought that motivates me with enough energy to get out is the knowledge that I’ll be in bed soon.

  I stopped wincing at the tightness in my thighs, back, and arms, having become accustomed to the pain, as I drag myself to the security door of my building.

  Locked.

  If I weren’t so tired, I’d laugh. The one time I need an easy entry and the thing is fucking locked. Fishing my keys out of my backpack, I notice the shadowed figure of a man moving toward me.

  In my weakness, I drop my keys. I crouch down and scramble to pick them up just as I hear his voice.

  “AJ.”

  I look up. His face comes into view, and seeing him snaps the last of my strength. “Brae?” My voice cracks pathetically.

  His long legs eat up the space between us, and when he steps to my crumpled form on the ground, his smile falls. “What’s wrong?”

  I open my mouth to tell him, but a hiccupping sob shoots from my lips.

  “What the fuck?” He squats, and when I catch the worry and concern in his eyes, it only makes me cry harder.

  He lifts me into his arms, and I bury my face into his neck as tears fall uncontrollably. “I haven’t talked . . . to you in . . . forever.”

  “We’ve been busy; that’s okay. But, AJ, what the fuck is going on? You look like you haven’t slept in a week.” He reaches for my keys. “Which one is it?”

  I show him, and he lets us into the building and then takes me to the elevator. I close my eyes and allow him to absorb my weight, which he does like I’m nothing more than a bar of soap.

  A couple of doors later and we’re in my apartment. He lays me down on the couch and flips on the light.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I choke out the words through coughing tears.

  He drops down at my hip and faces me, pushing a few strands of loose hair from my face, and he hands me a paper towel.

  “Thank you.” I sniff and wipe my cheeks.

  “What’s going on, muffin?”

  I don’t have the energy to reprimand him for using that stupid name, maybe because for the first time I love the way it sounds.

  ~*~

  Braeden

  What. The. Fuck.

  Last time I saw AJ she looked healthy, happy, and energetic. I come back to surprise her, and she’s lookin’ more like a crackhead—a sexy-as-fuck crackhead, but still. Her eyes are bloodshot, her skin pale, and when I picked her up, it was obvious she’d lost weight.

  I don’t know what has caused this change, but I do know, if there’s a person responsible, I’m going to kill ’em.

  “Enough with the tears, AJ, talk to me.”

  She sits up and puts her fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. I’ve been so busy.”

  “Is that what this is about? You feeling bad that we haven’t talked in a while?”

  “No, I mean I do feel bad, but I got promoted—”

  “You did? That’s great, not that I’m surprised; it was bound to happen eventually.”

  “Thank you, but . . . my skillset was lacking, and I’ve been training every day for hours and then doing the show, and I don’t have time to eat or sleep.” The hysteria in her voice comes back. “I just want to do a good job, but I’m so tired, and my head hurts all the time. I can’t”—another sob rips from her throat— “do this. I can’t.”

  I pull her into my arms, dragging her over my lap and then falling back to get comfortable. “Shhh . . . it’s okay, baby.”

  Another hiccup as she soaks my shirt with tears.

  “You’re exhausted, AJ. The body can only handle so much.”

  “I know, but I can’t fail.”

  “You won’t, but you need to be mindful of your health. Shh . . .” I run my hand up and down her bare thigh, loving the feel of her smooth skin, but not digging the way her muscles jump and shake with fatigue.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “Sleep.”

  “No, you’re here, and I missed you. I want to—” She yawns so hard her jaw pops. “Spend time with you.”

  “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  “You will?”

  There’s no place else I’d rather be. “I promise.”

  ~~~

  I’m cleaning the last of the dishes when AJ comes stumbling out of her room. She’s still wearing the shorts and shirt she came home in last night. I did take off her shoes for her, but other than putting her in bed, I didn’t touch her.

  I wanted to.

  But I didn’t.

  The only other time I’ve seen a person have a complete emotional breakdown because of physical fatigue was in boot camp, and those were grown ass men, not a tiny female who has been at it for days straight.

  She blinks at me with tired eyes.

  “Good morning.” I set a plate on the drying rack. “Sleep okay?”

  “My face hurts.” She rubs her cheek with her fingertips.

  “Yeah, that’s probably because you slept on it.”

  “Oh, wow.” She covers her face with two hands and groans into her palms. “That had to be so attractive.”

  “It was.” I hang the wet dishtowel over the lip of the sink. “So was the snoring.”

  “Stop it! I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be.” I pull her in close and love the way she collapses against me. “You needed a good cry and a good night’s sleep followed by a good meal.”

  Her arms come around my waist and she moans. “I’m so hungry. I think I have something in the fridge I can whip together for us.”

  “Nope. I got you covered.”

  I grab her hand and lead her to the refrigerator, then open it and motion to the fifty different Tupperware containers.

  “What is all that?”

  “That is called meal prep.”

  She peers up at me, slides her gaze to the stacks of clean dishes, then back to the fridge. “You cooked all that?”

 
“Don’t sound so surprised, jeez. Yes, while you were playing Sleeping Beauty, I hit up the grocery store and whipped this up for you. The top shelf is breakfast, middle is lunch, bottom is dinner, and your drawers are snacks. All high protein, healthy carb, and a ton of green shit.”

  “Brae, I can’t believe . . .”

  “I know how bad you want to succeed, AJ, but you won’t get there without a little help. Take care of that body, baby, and it’ll take care of you.”

  She swallows hard and continues to stare at the food. “I don’t know what to say.”

  I shut the door, and finally she looks up at me. “Nothing to say. I’m happy to help.”

  A palpable heat expands between us, and fuck, I want inside her so badly, but she still looks tired and malnourished, so I clear my throat. “I need to swing by my brother’s house and then head back to base.”

  “What? Why so soon?”

  “I took advantage of an early shift yesterday and a late shift tonight. I had to see you.”

  She rubs her forehead. “And I totally ruined it. I’m so sorry. Do you have to leave right now?”

  “No, I can squeeze in breakfast, but then I really have to get going. I’ll have to haul ass to get there on time, and if I’m late, my CO will feed me my balls.”

  “Sounds . . . painful.” She cracks a tiny smile, and it hits me right in the chest.

  “Sit down. I’ll cook.”

  “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  The sultry sound of her sleep-heavy voice drains my brain of blood as it all pools in one place. “AJ . . .”

  She lifts an eyebrow and seems to slide across the linoleum floor toward me where she gets close enough to shove both her hands in my back pockets. “I’ll make it fast.” She squeezes two little fists full of my ass, driving my hips forward.

  “I . . .” What was I going to say? There was something on the tip of my tongue, but now all that’s there is the taste for her. “Maybe I could skip out on seeing my brother.” I fork my fingers through her hair and nip at her chin, making her moan. “He’s probably not home anyway.”

  She releases my ass and pushes her hands up the back of my shirt, raking her nails up either side of my spine. “I’ve missed you.” Her soft lips press against mine before she takes my lower lip in her mouth and sucks it deep.