Hearing the dreaded pet name, I cross my arms over my chest. “I take it back. You aren’t sweet at all.”
“Too late. You already admitted you think I’m sweet.” His mouth hits my cheek. “I wonder what else I could get you to admit.”
I feel a blush working its way up my neck. “We’re going to miss the fight.”
“You sure you’re up for it?” His voice is soft. “I don’t want you drunk in a crowd. These things get rowdy under normal circumstances — on New Year’s Eve it’s going to be a madhouse in there. I don’t want you getting swallowed up.”
“I’m not five.”
“Zoe, darling, I don’t care if you’re five, twenty-five, or a hundred and five,” he rumbles. “You’re my girl. I’m always going to worry about you. Always.”
“You’re being sweet again,” I say, feeling my eyes prickle suspiciously. “Stop it.”
He laughs. “Okay, I’ll say something terrible.”
“Good. Do that.”
His stubble scrapes my ear. “You look beautiful.” He plays with a blonde tendril that’s escaped my clip. “I like your hair like this.”
I whip my head around to glare at him. “That’s the opposite of terrible.”
“Fine.” He thinks about it long and hard. “Nope. Can’t come up with a damn thing.”
I sigh. “I see I’m going to have to lead by example.”
“Ah, yes, because you’ve never insulted me before. This will be a fresh experience for me. Uncharted waters.”
I giggle. “Shh. I’m thinking of insults.”
“Very serious business.” He forces his face into a somber mask. “I’m ready. Hit me with your worst.”
“Okay…” I narrow my eyes. “You snore.”
“Ah!” He throws a hand over his heart, as though gravely injured. “I’ll never recover from that one!”
“And!” I point a finger at him, in case he thought he was getting off easy. “You have bad breath in the morning.”
“No! Not bad breath!” He gasps. “You mean to tell me I have bad breath before brushing my teeth? That is just shocking information. Truly revolutionary.”
I stifle a laugh. “Fine. You want me to play rough?” I make a show of cracking my knuckles, like I’m going into battle. “You once used the word aggravate wrong in a sentence. Technically it means to intensify not to annoy. Just for the record.”
“Did you just correct my grammar?” he whispers lowly.
“…Maybe.”
“Shit just got real.” His eyes narrow. “There’s no going back, now.”
I bite my lip so I won’t laugh. “Bring it.”
“Oh, I will. This is war.”
“I’m hearing a lot of empty talk, playboy.”
“Fine.” He drops his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I hope every time you charge your phone at night, the cord doesn’t go all the way in and you wake up with a dead battery!”
I gasp. “Well… I hope the next chocolate chip cookie you bite into is actually oatmeal raisin.”
“I hope you pick the slowest line at the checkout every time you go grocery shopping.”
“I hope every prime parking space you find actually has a motorcycle in it when you start to pull in!”
“Wow. That’s just… evil.” He shakes his head. “I had no idea I was falling for such a sociopath.”
“This is the worst fight ever,” I say, laughing. “You’re terrible at this.”
“At fighting with you?” His eyes get warm. “Maybe that’s because I’d rather be doing other things with you.”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asks innocently.
“Like you know what I look like naked.”
“But I do know—”
“Parker.”
“Fine, fine.” He reaches for the key and turns over the ignition. “Let’s get this damn fight over with. There are several creative methods I had in mind for ringing in the New Year with you. Shockingly, none of them involved watching two sweaty, bare-chested dudes wrestle.”
I roll my eyes. “Just drive the car, drama queen.”
He sighs as we jolt away from the curb, one hand gripping the wheel tightly as we merge into traffic. His other hand is twined tightly with mine on the console between us, which only adds to the warm glow spreading inside me.
Lancaster is in custody.
Christmas was actually kind of amazing.
Five kickass women befriended me against my will.
And it’s all because of this amazing man, holding my hand and simultaneously holding my whole world together.
I don’t know if it’s sheer force of will or pure stubbornness driving him to try to save me from everything — even myself. Frankly, I don’t care.
So long as he keeps being here, holding my hand and leading me through this mess called life, I think I’ll be okay.
Does that scare the shit out of me?
Of course. I’ve never been one to willingly depend on another person.
Does that mean I’m going to run?
No fucking way.
* * *
There’s a line around the corner outside the gym when we arrive. It takes an eternity to find parking nearby and by the time we make it down the narrow side street to Scythe Gym, there must be a hundred people waiting to get in.
More than a few boos and grumbles emanate from the crowd as I lead Parker to the front of the line where Colton is standing with several large bouncers, collecting cash cover charges and shamelessly ogling the girls at the front of the line who are wearing a shockingly small amount of clothing, given the fact that it’s about twenty degrees outside.
“Colt!”
“Babe!” Colton reaches out a beefy arm and grabs me in a bear hug. He spins me around in a circle before setting me back on my feet. “Happy New Year.”
“Put me down, you oaf.” I elbow him and glance at Parker, who’s glaring at the buff fighter with a look I’ve only ever seen him use around Luca.
I swallow. “Colt, meet Parker. Parker, meet Colton.”
Parker gives a stiff nod to Colt.
Colt returns the nod with narrowed eyes.
Idiots.
“Oh-kay. Now that we’ve gotten those warm introductions out of the way, maybe we can go inside? It’s fucking freezing out here.” I glare at Colt and gesture at the doors.
“Go ahead.” He sweeps an arm toward the entrance. “I’ll see you in there.”
“Okay. And don’t forget, I have a group of friends coming, too. You’ll get them in, right?”
“Depends.” Colt looks contemplative. “Are they cute?”
“Well, one’s married with kids, one’s knocked up, one’s freshly engaged, one’s soon to be divorced, and the other is already half-in-love with Luca.” I tilt my head. “So…”
“Babe.” Colton shakes his head. “Never tell me the odds.”
I laugh. “You’re insufferable.”
“Hey, what’s a guy to do? I spent ten years pining over you, and you never even blinked at me. Had to move on eventually.” He ruffles my hair until my clip falls to the pavement. His voice drops to a whisper. “Still secretly holding out hope though.”
“Oh, shut up, you big buffoon.” I roll my eyes. “You’ll get them in?”
A dimple pops in his cheek. “For you? ‘Course I will, babe.”
“Thanks, Colt.” I sigh and reach for Parker’s hand. “Come on, playboy. Let’s head in.”
The men exchange another set of frosty nods, which makes me sigh deeply. Parker’s fingers engulf mine as we walk into the gym, leaving a grinning Colton on the street. I shake my head disapprovingly at him before we disappear inside.
“What is it with you boys and your macho posturing?” I ask, staring up at Parker as soon as the doors shut behind us. It’s pretty crowded inside — not full to capacity yet, but certainly getting there. The crowd pulses like a living organism as money and alcohol are passed around, charging
the air with adrenaline.
“Another one,” Parker mutters.
“What?” I yell over the roar of the crowd.
He looks down at me. “Another guy, in love with you.”
“Colt was kidding.”
“No, Zoe.” Parker’s eyes are serious. “He wasn’t kidding at all.”
“That was just his sense of humor. He likes his girls tall, busty, and brainless. Basically the opposite of everything I am. He’d never be interested in someone like me.”
“Zoe.” His voice is incredulous. “You seriously think any guy wouldn’t trade his left nut for a chance with a girl like you, over some bimbo? You’re fucking crazy, darling.” He pulls me toward the wall, where it’s a bit quieter, and cups his hands around my cheeks. “You’re the kind of girl men spend a lifetime looking for. And you’re mine. So forgive me if I’m not super fond of watching some random dude who admits to being in love with you run his hands all over your body.”
“Don’t be jealous.” I wrinkle my nose at him. “There’s no foundation for it.”
“I’m not jealous, babe. I don’t do jealous.” He leans down and kisses me. “I’ve told you before — I don’t want to make your decisions for you. I have no interest in controlling you.” His voice goes soft. “You don’t fall in love with a bird and stick her in a cage. You let her fly free and hope like hell she comes back to you.”
“You know what?” I ask, kissing him back.
“What?” he murmurs.
“Tinkerbell and Peter Pan both knew how to fly.”
He grins as he deepens the kiss.
“Gross!” I hear a familiar female voice yell, interrupting us. “Get a room, you two!”
We break apart to find Phoebe and Gemma glaring at us. Chase and Nate are standing behind them, arms crossed over their chests, looking amused.
“Get over it,” Parker tells his sisters.
“When’s this shindig starting?” Lila yells, appearing on the fringes of the group with two beers in hand, one of which she passes to me. Shelby and Chrissy both trail in her wake with drinks of their own, waving hello when they join the group.
“Should be any minute now,” I call back. “I doubt they can fit another body in here.”
“Come on!” Phoebe’s eyes are sparkling. “Let’s get closer to the stage!”
“It’s not a ballet recital, little bird. It’s called the octagon.” Nate’s voice is warm.
She waves away her fiancé’s words. “Whatever.”
I grin and sip my beer as we push our way through the crowd, Parker’s heat at my back.
“Who is Blaze fighting, tonight?” Lila leans close so I can hear her.
“Jack Forrester. Really giant dude from Maine. Built like an oak tree. They call him Lumberjack. He has a killer knock-out punch.”
Lila swallows. “Doesn’t that worry you?”
“Every damn time,” I admit. “I pray for the girl who ever falls for Luca. With what he does… you’d never get a good night’s sleep so long as he’s fighting. And I don’t see him stopping anytime soon. There are UFC scouts here, tonight. If he wins…” I glance at her and see thoughts turning over in her eyes. “He’s going all the way.”
She nods slowly and sips her beer, but says nothing else.
Lila is a conundrum.
On the one hand, she’s blunt and bold and funny as hell. On the other… she’s a total mystery. Even her closest friends aren’t exactly sure what she does for a living or how she spends her free time. I have a feeling there’s a lot more lurking behind those glossy brown eyes than she lets on.
When we reach the ring, the girls engage in a heated discussion about which octagon girl has the best outfit as we watch them parade around, hyping up the crowd. (The one in the black leather lace-up bikini is winning by a landslide.) The men adopt carefully blank expressions and refrain from commenting on our debate.
Apparently, they’re smarter than I gave them credit for.
Chase, Nate, Parker, Owen, and Theo form a towering wall at our backs, keeping the crowd from pushing in on us as the overhead lights start to flash, a telltale sign that things are about to begin. I’m laughing at something Parker’s whispered in my ear when a young guy in a Scythe Gym t-shirt appears in front of me along the inner railing.
“You Zoe?” he asks, his brown eyes nervous.
I feel Parker and Nate both shift into high-alert mode.
“Yeah,” I say, eyebrows lifting.
“Blaze wants to see you.”
My face screws up in a confused mask. “But he never wants to see me before his matches. He’s in his zen mode.”
“Apparently he changed his mind tonight.” The guy’s expression is anxious — it’s clear he doesn’t want to let down the hulking, two hundred pound wall of pure muscle who sent him out here to get me. “He said he needs to talk to you before he fights. Alone.”
Shit.
If Luca wants to see me, he must be more worried about this fight than I thought. I suddenly feel like the worst friend on earth — I didn’t even check in with him today.
“I have to go,” I say immediately, looking up at Parker. “I’ll be right back.”
“You’re not going anywhere alone.” His voice is totally serious.
Nate shakes his head, seconding Parker’s statement. “Agreed.”
“Guys! I’m not leaving the building. I’ll be fifty feet away. Luca never asks to see me before a fight — if he’s asking, it must be important.”
“I don’t like it,” Parker growls. “This crowd is ready to combust.”
“I’ll stay with her,” the gym guy assures him. “Bring her right there and straight back. I swear.”
“Honey.” I reach up and brush my lips against Parker’s. “Remember that conversation we just had, about not putting me in a cage?”
His eyes flare with frustration and a muscle jumps in his jaw. “You come straight back. You’re not here in my arms in five minutes, I’m coming in after you. I don’t care what ginger boy has to say about it.”
“Ginger boy?” I snort. “I’m totally telling Luca you said that.”
“I don’t give a shit what you tell him.” His mouth crushes mine in a kiss. “Five minutes.”
I nod and pass Lila my beer. “Here. I’m not going to finish this.”
She shrugs and takes a sip. “More for me.”
Parker doesn’t look happy about it, but he lifts me up over the railing with a nod to the bouncers. I wave goodbye to my friends as the attendant leads me around the ring toward the doors where the fighters are waiting in their separate locker rooms, getting geared up. Just before the crowd swallows us, I look back… straight into Parker’s eyes.
I see the worry there, in their depths. But also trust. And maybe, if I look a little deeper, I see love, too.
He loves me.
I hang onto that feeling as I hurry after the Scythe guy, cutting a path up the fenced-off walkway toward the back rooms and trying to ignore the screaming crowd. We leave behind the mass of fans and step into a secluded hallway, the heavy doors swinging shut behind us with a bang, blocking out the roar.
“Damn, that was loud,” I mutter, ears still ringing. I shake my head to clear them as I follow the man down the hallway. “How do you stand working here, on fight nights? Aren’t you worried you’ll go deaf?” I joke.
The man doesn’t answer; he just keeps walking down the deserted hall.
I’m starting to feel uneasy about this.
“…Or maybe you’re already deaf,” I murmur, eyeing the space around me. There are no locker rooms back here. I stop walking.
“Where’s Luca?” I ask, my pulse picking up speed.
The man turns to me, and I see the remorse on his face a second before I see his fist swinging out to clip me across my temple.
“I’m sorry,” he tells me, a second before his blow makes contact and everything goes black. “I didn’t have a choice. He’s got my family.”
* *
*
When I wake up, my wrists are bound with a zip-tie and my head feels like someone used it as the ball in a game of ping pong. There’s also the fact that I’m being carried like a sack of flour over the shoulder of the guy who bashed my brains in.
I’m not sure if it’s the blow to the head or the fact that he’s holding me upside down, but I think I might vomit down his back. Which, seriously, would serve him right. I try to struggle, but none of my limbs are cooperating. The most I can manage is a weak kick against his shins as he hauls me from the backseat of his car across a parking lot. I see cracked asphalt passing beneath his feet and wonder vaguely if there’s a chance this man kidnapped me by accident.
Maybe he was looking for another Zoe.
I’ve never even seen this guy before. Who would possibly arrange for me to be accosted and abducted?
Lancaster.
The thought creeps into the back of my mind and lodges there, until it’s unshakably entrenched.
But he’s in jail, a voice of reason reminds me. There’s no way he’s behind this.
My foggy theories don’t matter, because we’re suddenly moving up a set of dilapidated stairs and into what looks like an old office building, judging by the stained beige carpet. My head jostles roughly as he carries me through the space, and nausea stirs to life in my gut again.
I’m definitely going to puke.
Unfortunately, before I manage to vomit on him, my captor bends forward and deposits me on a stainless steel table, the kind you find bolted to the floor in a crappy doctor’s clinic. Grunting in pain as he drops me, I fall to my side on the cold table, unable to keep myself upright with my head spinning.
He hit me really fucking hard, the bastard.
“Why are you doing this?” I moan as the man stares at me, both hands fisted in his hair. He looks more distressed than I feel, which is really saying something.
“I didn’t have a choice.” The man swallows nervously. “I’m just a part-time worker at Scythe. I don’t even usually work on fight nights. But this guy… he showed up in my fucking house last night.” He swallows again, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “I have a wife. I have a three-year-old son. He said if I didn’t help him…”
One Good Reason (A Boston Love Story Book 3) Page 26
