The Tornado

by Missy Blue

  "Yes," she said with a sigh. "I actually will work all three of my jobs tomorrow."

  I let out a low whistle, shaking my head. "Sounds exhausting."

  "It is, but it’s fine," she replied. "I will admit though, I love my Sundays. The one day where I have absolutely nothing to do. Unless you count Sunday dinner with the family."

  I tilted my head and the corner of my mouth curved up. "If we're talking my family," I said, "then I definitely count that as a strenuous activity." I smiled when she chuckled quietly. She glanced down at the toes of her sneakers, then back up at me. I noticed then that I had at least nearly a foot of height over her.

  "Well," she said, "I better be on my way. I just wanted to say good night."

  "Good night," I echoed, watching her leave. I wondered if she’d come in tomorrow, and found myself selfishly hoping she would so I'd be able to see her and talk to her again. What the fuck was wrong with me? My concentration should be on Ithaca and training.

  I hated to admit it, but Juliet Mucciarone was taking over my whole goddamn world.

  I KNEW I had a problem.

  Over the course of the next month, Juliet came each and every night, just as she always did. The difference was, I now found myself seeking her out around the times she normally showed up. And when I saw her, my gut would do strange things and clench up in a real fucked-up way.

  It wasn't anything I was familiar with and I wasn't sure what it meant or how I felt about it. All I knew was that I physically reacted when I saw her, and I didn't like that one goddamn bit. I didn't like knowing that something, or someone, was capable of making me react involuntarily that way. I'd always prided myself on my absolute control. Now, someone I barely knew had me checking around for her each day. Had my damn stomach pulsing and heart beating just a little bit harder than normal, whenever I saw her. I was pissed—that shit was for pussies.

  I tried to leave her the hell alone, letting her come in and work out, uninterrupted, but I couldn’t do it. I had to seek her out. Had to make conversation, to say hello and goodbye. Had to be near her. I was like a moth to a goddamn flame.

  It was Friday; I was at the front desk with Connor, watching the small TV mounted on the wall behind the desk. It was an ESPN report about Ithaca, and it was a formal announcement of all the fighters. A few names and faces I shrugged at. I knew who they were; they had reps for being bad-asses. I wasn't concerned with them. Two names I outright didn't recognize, which meant more than likely they were amateurs who happened to be really, really good—much like how I got started. Then there was me, my face taking up the entire screen. All of the clientele who happened to be within earshot of the TV erupted into whoops and cheers then as Connor grabbed my shoulders and said, “You look hot, you angry bastard.” I didn't crack a smile, shaking my head.

  "Oh, wow. Look at that. You're on TV." The unenthusiastic voice drew my attention and I glanced over my shoulder, smirking when I saw Juliet leaning against the counter. I didn't know how long she'd been there, but she looked unimpressed even as the guys nearby and Connor were still carrying on.

  "Yeah," I replied, mocking her tone. "How about that?"

  "Hey, don't be a hater, Macaroni," Connor said, pointing a finger at her. "Just wait until he comes back with that two milli purse. Then you'll want to be his best friend."

  She stood listening to Connor, her face unmoved. When he was done, she tilted her head. "You know...." Juliet trailed off. "…Connor, is it?"

  He nodded. "You can call me Con for short, b—" I kicked Connor in the shin with a glare, and the word ‘babe’ never left his stupid mouth.

  "How sweet of you," she said smoothly. "You know, Connor, if you're going to insist on calling me by my last name, the least you could do is pronounce it right."

  Connor made a face. "Macaroni," he said. "What's so hard about that?”

  “Macaroni is a type of pasta. It's Mooch-ee-rone," she said, rolling her ‘r’ and gesturing dramatically with her hand. "Pronounce it all. I'm Italian. C'mon, now." She flicked her hand dismissively and sauntered past the desk toward her usual spot. I couldn’t hold back a laugh as every guy in the gym joined in.

  Christ, I adored that sarcastic, dry sense of humor of hers. And that was the real kicker. It was rare for me to smile, let alone hear myself laugh. After all the pain of last year—watching my best friend die in Afghanistan, and then all that shit that came from the press, making allegations that I was screwing his wife...Fuck, even now it made my blood boil—I hadn't even been sure I remembered how to laugh anymore. And yet, without even trying, Juliet could have me barking with laughter at some story of a ridiculous customer at either the café or the lounge, or something that one of her crazy family members had said.

  "My bad," Connor called after her. "Don't be mad at me, Moochi-roochi—ah fuck it. Can’t say it."

  I kept on laughing at Connor's discomfit. "Get it right next time," I said, punching his shoulder. “You’re making this gym look dumb.”

  Connor grabbed his arm and winced. "Ow. Hey, fuck you, man. You weren't saying it right either."

  "I didn't have to after a while," I replied, enjoying busting Connor's balls. "We're on a first name basis now."

  "And that's about it," Connor finished up, then ducked my next swing.

  Later that night, I was going over some paperwork in the office when Juliet stopped by on her way out. She rapped her knuckles on the doorframe even though I'd seen her heading over.

  "Heading to Trinity’s?" I asked.

  "Believe it or not, I actually have the night off," she replied. "Another girl wanted an extra shift so, even though it was hard, I sacrificed mine."

  "That's big of you," I said, suppressing a smirk.

  "It really was. Anyway, Ruby and I are going to get a jumpstart on the baking for tomorrow. So, really, I'll still be working."

  "Hope you get some sleep in there somewhere," I said, popping a toothpick in my mouth and stacking some papers together.

  "Right. So, anyway, I am working at Trinity’s tomorrow, and since the Pirates and the Yankees are playing at PNC tomorrow night, and we're not a sports bar, it should be relatively quiet." I nodded and waited for her to make her point silently, lifting my brows. "Anyway," she said again, "if you and your boys wanted to come by for a drink I could probably hook you up with a couple of freebies. Just saying."

  I was caught off guard at the invitation. It was so random and I wasn't sure what to make of it. Did she want to see me outside the gym? I realized that she was waiting for some sort of reply, so I cleared my throat.

  "Uh, sure. That sounds good. I'll talk to Connor and Leon. Maybe drag my brother's ass out for a change." I chose not to mention that I didn't drink. I never wanted the chance to become like my abusive alcoholic father. Plus, it made my body stronger and tougher than most.

  Juliet looked pleased. It was good to see her happy. There was something about her that caught my attention even more than her looks or her wit. There was an oppressive heaviness that clung to her. Somewhere in the depths of her brown eyes was a sadness, almost a hopelessness. I could see it, but I couldn't understand it. And Christ, I wanted to understand it.

  Whatever it was, whatever caused that pain to linger in her eyes, she never spoke of it. She never came off as anything other than laid back, except for when I caught her off guard. She still recoiled and flinched when she didn't see me coming, like I'd tried to brand her with a hot iron. The sadness would leave her eyes and be replaced with sheer, unadulterated terror. I could never understand that. Was it the fear of being attacked in the gym again? I wanted to ask her, I wanted to ask so badly but I knew I'd be way out of line. So, I stuck to basic conversation. Besides, that was a huge stretch for me anyway. In fact, everything I'd done since the night she'd been attacked had been a huge stretch for me. I couldn't make sense of it, and that irked me something.

  "Okay. Well, no pressure. I just thought that since it'd be pretty quiet in there, you wouldn't really be bothered,
like you seem to be here by those girls—I mean, uh, people coming up to you all the time. And, like I said, I can probably score you guys a couple of free beers or something."

  I smiled. "That's nice of you. Thanks."

  She cleared her throat and gave a little shrug. "All right, then. Have a good one." She turned and walked away before I could reply.

  Annoyance rose again as I felt excitement at the prospect of seeing her the following evening, even though she'd be working. It was just a nice gesture from one human being to another. Nothing more, nothing less. Even so...

  "Connor," I called, heading toward the door and hating myself for it. Bad as a fucking teenager. "What you doing tomorrow night?"

  Her

  AS I WALKED out to Ruby's car, parked across the street, I cursed myself with every step. What was wrong with me? Inviting Asher Prince of all people to Trinity’s for drinks? Free drinks, at that? He probably thought I was some desperate groupie now.

  Over the past month or so, we’d made lots of small talk, and I grew to look forward to seeing him each day. He was very quiet but observant, and I liked the way he paid attention to my little daily stories. I'd even managed to make him laugh a couple of times. Though he was still very much intimidating, he was sweet, much sweeter than I would ever have expected him to be, and he was attentive in his own way. He was still hotheaded and crabby with the other guys at the gym—grunting and yelling. I’d even heard him growl like a panther at some of them. But with me, well, he was a teddy bear.

  I had known of him, of course, as all of Pittsburgh did, from the Sparta event and all the coverage about him and the wife of a fallen Marine.

  Inviting him to Trinity’s had been completely impulsive and I had no clue why I'd even thought that would be a good idea. I'd felt a desire to do something nice back for him, I guessed, the way he had done something nice for me. It was the first thing that came to mind.

  He was a guy, right? And in my experience, guys liked to drink with other guys. I had figured he was more cut out for the quiet lounge rather than a crowded, loud sports bar where every guy, and probably girl, in there, would recognize him and hound him all night. Trinity’s was notorious for being empty on game nights since the ambiance was not conducive to supporting sporting events. All of that had swirled together in my little mind faster than my logic could kick in, and the invitation had spurted out of my mouth before I could stop it.

  I cringed, smacking my palm to my forehead. There was no way he was going to come, and then I'd have to face him again on Monday and hear his lame excuse as to why he hadn't taken me up on my even more lame offer. As I reached Ruby's car, I shook my head.

  I could really be a dumbass sometimes.

  Chapter Seven

  Him

  I FOLLOWED BEHIND Connor, Leon, and my brother, as we headed into Trinity’s. True to Juliet’s promise, the place was pretty quiet at eleven on a Saturday night.

  There was a table of some forty-something women nearby. Across from them was a table of young entrepreneurial types in the corner, who were the loudest group in there. Probably the start of a bachelor party. Twenty-somethings with styled hair and designer clothes, ogling the waitresses.

  We claimed a tall table midway between the door and the bar, with tall stools. I opted to stand for a bit, leaning my elbows on the table as I surveyed the room.

  Connor had just started cracking jokes about the music when I noticed a curvy brunette out of the corner of my eye, moving toward our table. I glanced over at the approaching figure and then did a double-take. I hardly recognized Juliet. My eyes moved down her womanly frame as Connor let out a low whistle. I kicked him under the table. Hard.

  "Hey, guys," Juliet welcomed, coming to stand at my side, a slightly apologetic note in her voice. "Sorry about the wait—that bachelor party is sort of demanding. I'll take your order for now."

  I couldn't get over how different she looked than when she came to the gym or even how she'd looked at the café; tonight, she was completely done up, glamorous even. She wore a sequined scoop-neck black tank top that revealed a generous portion of her cleavage, which was dusted with some sort of shimmery powder, and a pair of short black shorts. Her hair was down and tousled, shining under the dim lights, and she wore heavy eye makeup. I definitely preferred her more natural look, but couldn’t deny how unbelievably sexy she looked. There was something else about her that I couldn't put my finger on, but it was different.

  "Wow, Mac, you look—"I kicked Connor under the table again. Much harder. He groaned in pain as I narrowed my eyes at him“—Look okay...I guess…” He grimaced.

  Ever since Juliet had corrected him on her Italian surname, Connor had made a point to just call her Mac. It made her all the more special knowing she could be a good sport about it. Despite Connor deserving a good beating.

  "That’s the best compliment I’ve had tonight, Connor. Thanks," she said, holding back a grin. "Boss’s dress code."

  Her eyes lit on my brother, the only one she didn't recognize, and smiled shyly. I was staring at her so hard, I didn't realize they were waiting for an introduction until my brother cleared his throat loudly. I shook myself.

  "Sorry," I said quickly. "Juliet, this is my big brother, Bailey. Bailey, this is Juliet. She's…" I hesitated for a moment. What was she? It’d been on the tip of my tongue to say client, or something like that, but it didn't quite seem right.

  "A friend," she finished quickly. "Nice to meet you, Bailey. And please call me Jewel. I’ve told your brother like a hundred times already." She laughed softly.

  Bailey nodded and smiled, subtly shooting me a quick smile of approval. "Nice to meet you, Jewel."

  "Well," she said, her hands settling on her hips. "I did promise a round of free drinks. What'll you have?"

  "You got Tank Seven?" Connor asked.

  "I do. I'll have the waitress bring out a round for you." She glanced around, her gaze settling on me, and smiled before she walked off. As she did, I realized what it was about her that was different. She was wearing black studded boots with a tall spiky heel, the tops of which reached to just under her calf. I was used to her being so much shorter than me, but tonight, she'd almost reached my shoulders.

  "Good job," I heard Bailey say, and turned just as my older brother's hand clamped down on my shoulder. I looked at him, frowning in confusion.

  "Good job on what?" I hissed.

  Bailey cocked his head curiously. He nodded in the general direction Juliet had gone off in. "Isn't that yours?" he replied.

  "No," I said, averting my eyes. "I hardly know her. We're not really even friends. She just comes to the gym."

  "Yeah, he doesn't spend hours a week talking to her or anything," Connor said loudly, making Bailey chuckle and me glare at Connor murderously. "He doesn't spend the rest of the time talking about her either."

  "Shut the fuck up," I snapped. "He’s being stupid," I added to Bailey. "It ain't even like that."

  "Why not?" Bailey asked, genuinely. "She's a beautiful girl. What's the problem?"

  "Nothing," I grunted. "Who said I had a goddamn problem?"

  "Oh, Jesus," Leon said, swiping a hand down his face. "Here we go."

  "Dude, you don't have a problem," Connor said reassuringly, patting the air. "You're just a huge fucking pussy who drinks lattes. That's all."

  "Fuck you," I snarled, rising from the stool I’d just sat down on.

  At that minute, Juliet returned to the table, carrying a tray with four pint glasses filled with beer. "Hey, you're our own personal waitress too?" Connor asked with a grin. "And here I thought you were just the barkeep."

  She shot him a look, but smiled. "The frat boys in the corner are being really obnoxious, so I guess you guys are stuck with me for a while. Just don't have me walking around all over the place. These shoes hurt my feet." She placed our drinks in front of us and I shifted uncomfortably as she placed mine down. She didn't miss the look on my face and furrowed her brow. "What is it?" she aske
d. "Would you like something else? It's no problem. Do you like liquor instead?" I leaned in so I wouldn't have to shout over the music.

  Big mistake.

  I was close enough to smell her perfume and saw a few light freckles across her nose in the dim lighting. I felt my cock twitch, like I was back to being thirteen again. "Actually, can I just have a club soda with lime?"

  She looked at me in surprise. "Of course. Sorry, I didn't realize..." Her hand hovered next to the glass.

  "Hey, hey, hey," Connor said, reaching out to stop her. "You leave that. He’s training—he doesn't get to drink."

  "Oh," she said, her face visibly relaxing, and for a moment, I wondered if she thought I was an alcoholic or something. She smiled, pushing my glass to the middle of the table. "I'll let you three fight it out. Club soda with lime coming right up."

  I nodded my thanks and watched my brother and my friends take down the swill with lust. Juliet brought me my club soda and lime in record time, and returned to the bar after making sure we were set. As the four of us traded MMA war stories, or the other guys made comments about the waitresses—making damn sure not to refer to Juliet, unless they wanted to talk to my fist—my eyes kept straying to her. She looked cute dancing to whatever song was playing as she worked, and she handled the drunken guys across the lounge with grace and ease. But if they made one fucking move on her, I’d beat them till they couldn’t walk or talk no more.

  Eventually, Leon and Connor decided to call it a night. They both had to be at the gym fairly early the next morning for opening. I glanced at my watch. It was closing hour. I moved toward the bar when I noticed that Juliet seemed relatively free and was wiping down the counter.

  "Hey," I said, leaning on the bar.