Taking the tee-shirt from the bathroom floor, she pulled it on, surrounding herself in his scent, then she crawled onto the bed. All she could do was wait and hope, because she had no way to get in touch with him. On leaving this place she had asked him to trust her that she would come back, and now she had to do the same.
Grateful to hear the click of the lock less than an hour after she lay down Ivy flew out of the bed and raced to the door. The slice of light from the corridor that accompanied his entrance illuminated his battered features. Her shocked gasp startled him around and before the door had clunked back into its frame, her body was plastered to his.
‘What happened?’ she asked, cradling one side of his face while soothing her fingers over a bruise above his cheek bone and sliding her fingertips down to his bloodied lip.
‘You’re here?’ he said, ignoring the concern in her voice. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I told you I’d come back,’ she said, slipping the strap of his bag off his arm and letting it fall to the floor. ‘Come here.’
Holding his hands on her hips, she walked forward, guiding him to follow until she seated him on the bed. Leaving him there, she dashed over to turn on a lamp then retrieved ice and a napkin from the minibar. Climbing onto the bed at his side, she rested her knees on his thigh and wrapped the ice inside the cloth then rubbed it with her hand before pressing it to his cheek.
‘Tell me what happened,’ she said, aching at the sight of her man bruised and in pain.
‘You came back.’
Lowering the ice pack from his face she was amazed at the incredulity he exuded. It seemed that he was oblivious to the bruises, he was transfixed on her as though she were an apparition that he was imagining.
‘You don’t have concussion,’ she said, threading her fingers through his hair. ‘You’re not hallucinating, I really am here, Dax. I came back, just like I told you I would. I don’t want to be free from you. I’m always going to find my way back to you.’
Swiping her nursing hand aside, he seized the back of her head and clamped their mouths together. The metallic taste of his kiss reminded her of his injuries, but none of them bothered him. He wrapped his arms around her and tried to rotate their joined forms. If he got her onto her back then she would have to let him follow through. As much as Ivy wanted him to take things all the way, she had to find out where he’d been. Communication was so important in building trust, she wanted them to be open with each other; he had to learn to trust her. Tonight had been a leap of progress in proving to him that she could be trusted physically. Now she had to build on that.
‘Tell me where you were, tough guy,’ she said, climbing into his lap to prevent him from getting her onto her back.
‘I went out looking for a fight,’ he said, brushing his blood away from her lip.
‘If any other man said that to me I’d think he was crazy,’ she said. ‘But you mean a fight, a real fight.’ He nodded. ‘You didn’t kill anyone, did you?’
‘It’s against the rules,’ he said.
She knew that and so did he, but guessing how tumultuous his thunderous mood would have been, she could have forgiven him for forgetting sense.
‘It’s how you vent your emotions,’ she said. ‘What state did you leave the other guy in?’
‘I was sloppy with the first guy and he went down too quick. The second took more time, I played with him a bit; it clears my mind. But the third, he was a big fucker, no style but enough substance to knock me to the deck a couple of times.’
‘Three,’ she said, leaning away from him, but he grasped her pelvis and pulled it against his. ‘You fought three different guys? How many guys will they let you—‘
‘One,’ he said. ‘You’re only allowed to fight once a night in the ring when you’re headlining.’
‘So how did you manage—‘
‘This is Vegas, babygirl, there’s always a fight going on somewhere, there are big bucks to be made by the bookies.’
‘People actually bet money on you getting hurt?’ she said with a shudder of nausea. ‘They’re actually hoping that you’ll be hurt and—‘
‘Few people who know anything about the sport bet against me,’ he said, scooping her hair back over her shoulders. ‘My name means guaranteed income.’
‘Which is why they’ll let you fight more than once?’
‘I went to three different joints.’
‘And they didn’t see your bruises?’
‘These came from the last guy,’ he said. ‘That’s why I came back. I figured I couldn’t talk my way into another fight.’
‘And if he hadn’t beaten the crap out of you, would you have kept fighting all night?’
‘Maybe,’ he shrugged. ‘I figured you’d be long gone. And he didn’t beat the crap out of me; I still won for you, babygirl.’
‘You didn’t win for me,’ she said, slamming both hands into his shoulders. ‘You go out there and get yourself hurt because you believe that you deserve it.’
‘If that was true I’d lose. I go out there to fight because I’m good at it.’
‘And because it’s something you can control,’ she said.
‘And for the green,’ he said with a backwards nod. ‘You should see how much is stuffed into that bag. I can rake in a fortune for you.’
‘I don’t want money,’ she said. ‘I want you to see forty.’
‘Murder is against the rules.’
‘So it’s never happened? No one has ever died as a result of these fights?’ His silence said it all. ‘See, that’s what I’m worried about. What if you fall and hit your head?’
‘I’m not gonna fall and hit my head,’ he said with a smirk that made her want to give him a smack.
‘You think it’s funny,’ she said, tossing the ice down to his groin between them, then digging her nails into his wrists to yank them away from her so that she could get off him and the bed. ‘You know, the best way to make me feel better is to take me with you and show me what it’s all about.’
‘You weren’t here,’ he said.
‘I’m here now.’
‘Give a guy a minute to get over the last bout,’ he said, dropping onto his back on the bed, his feet remaining on the floor.
‘Not tonight,’ she said, flitting back to the bedside. ‘The next time.’ Crawling back onto the bed, she climbed up him and laid her cheek on his heart. ‘I want to be there.’
‘You’re not going to feel better,’ he said, curling a hand around her head to drum his fingers on her temple while his other clamped around her shoulders to keep her tight against him. ‘Watching me in there will only piss you off.’
‘I thought you were good,’ she said. ‘I’ll only be pissed if you’re a wimp, are you a wimp who can’t handle himself?’
‘No,’ he said with a scoff of a laugh. ‘But how will you feel when I let a guy twice my size hit me?’
‘Why would you let him hit you?’ she asked, with a hand on each pec she pushed up to look down at him, but his eyes were closed. The resistance in his chest grew as he braced to take her weight. Even now when he was tired and hurting he didn’t complain at her. ‘Is that what you did tonight? You let him hit you because you wanted to be hurt? You think it’s easier to deal with physical pain than emotional.’ Knowing that she had caused that pain in him made her heart break. ‘I told you that I would come back.’ Her whispered words made his eyes open, maybe he’d heard some of her hurt too.
‘I’m still amazed that you did.’
But she had and when her smile slinked up it was eventually joined by his. He was grateful that she had come back, and maybe just as grateful that she had left in the first place because now he got her point. Trusting her was not going to be easy for him, tonight had given him more peace of mind and she’d have a long time to keep proving her loyalty to him.
‘Suck me off,’ he said, the mischief in his tired, smiling eyes brought relief to her and she wanted to climb inside of him and stay here, in
this place, safe tonight forever.
‘How is me taking my medicine going to make you feel better?’ she teased, lowering enough to kiss the stubble on his jaw and chin.
‘I’ve been saving the good stuff.’
‘We had sex earlier,’ she said, brushing her lips over his. ‘And after all of your exertion, you probably have a headache.’
The fact that they could laugh together despite the horror they were surrounded by boded well for them, she was sure of it. Getting married had been impulsive and there were so many questions about their future. He’d done it to protect her and she was awed that he would make such a sacrifice. Trystan wanted to marry her because he wanted to punish her for the rest of her life. Dax wanted to marry her because he didn’t want anyone else to. After that decision had been made a guy only had one course of action: to prevent a woman from marrying another man, a guy had to marry her himself.
‘I’ll work through it,’ he said, closing his arm around her and flipping them around so she was underneath him. ‘You’re wearing my tee-shirt.’
‘Is that a problem?’ she asked, accepting his kiss.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You’re supposed to be naked when you’re in my bed.’
His jesting ceased when he inhaled and parted his lips on hers, she had no room to breathe let alone talk so he wasn’t expecting any kind of response. His gratified groan was joined by increased grinding of his hips down on hers. The pace of the dry riding increased and there was something so satisfying about taking their time to learn each other’s moans and manoeuvres without time or people hanging overhead.
Bruno wasn’t downstairs listening in or expecting a blow by blow after the fact. Tonight they even had the gift of freedom, no one was keeping them here against their will; no one knew that they were here.
Her hand had just slipped into his jeans when noise in the hallway broke their kiss. Dax didn’t look at her for explanation, but his lowered brow betrayed his curiosity about what was going on.
‘Wait here,’ he mumbled and was going to leave her, but she snatched his tee-shirt in her fists.
‘No, you’re not going out there, it’s just some drunk guy or something. Stay right here.’ Levering up she kissed his chin and raised her knees to angle her core around the length she’d just freed from denim.
‘There’s no reason for a drunk guy to be right outside our door,’ he said. ‘I’ll come back and fuck you when I’ve chased away whoever it is.’
No one had actually knocked, but given their circumstances, she wasn’t happy to just let him stroll out there unprotected. ‘Don’t you at least have a gun or something, just in case you need it?’
‘I don’t carry a gun,’ he said, leaving his shielding spot over her body and standing up to straighten his jeans.
‘What kind of a thug doesn’t carry a gun?’
Muttering, he buttoned his jeans, then just as he was about to head for the door he stopped to scrutinise her, she was mad enough not to notice that his focus was on the apex of her thighs. ‘What?’
‘If some dude is about to burst in here with trouble on his mind I’d rather that your gash wasn’t on show.’ Jerking her thighs closed, he nodded once. ‘Better.’
‘Why don’t you have a gun?’ she asked, scrambling up to kneel on the bottom corner of the bed, closest to the door.
‘I know how to use one and I’ve carried them before. I just don’t do it regularly.’
‘Why not?’ she hissed, trying to keep quiet and assuage her curiosity at the same time.
Dax pressed an ear to the door and held up a finger. His frown deepened then he backed away from the door. ‘If someone walks into a room and shoots you unexpectedly, you don’t usually have time to hunt for your piece before you die.’
‘And that’s a reason?’
With annoyance wringing off him, his attention snapped to her. ‘I don’t need to carry my own gun because if it comes to it, I just take the gun from the guy who brought one along with the trouble.’
Mr. Bigshot fighter was quick and nimble, she knew he had the experience to observe someone’s movements and to assess their weaknesses. He was right in the respect that if someone’s sole purpose was to kill someone else then having a gun wouldn’t save anyone’s life. The hitman could shoot you while you slept and having a house full of guns wouldn’t stop that.
Dax’s logic was strange, yet it made sense to her and as she watched him creep back toward the door she was met by a new invigorating esteem for the man she had married. His background in fighting meant he didn’t need to be capable with weapons, he was one.
Still she was surprised when Dax took hold of the handle and opened the door, maybe he was hoping for the element of surprise. But the man on the other side of the door, in the hallway, wasn’t holding a weapon, he had a phone in his hand. When Dax glared at the man who was only a few inches shorter than him, but far skinnier, the guy paled and his mouth stopped moving.
‘You’re a sonofabitch, Benny,’ Dax said, grabbing the guy by the throat and pulling him into the room.
Slamming the door, Dax thrust the guy against the door and squeezed. The man sputtered and choked and although Dax’s arm was tensed straight, Ivy knew that it wasn’t Dax’s intention to kill this stranger. Sure enough, Dax’s fingers relaxed and Benny wheezed in a breath.
‘You followed me back here?’ Dax asked.
‘There’s big bucks out for you, in the inner circle, you understand.’
‘Mauri’s looking for me?’
Benny nodded. ‘Yeah, yeah, said you went AWOL this afternoon. I was knocked out to see you at Tig’s tonight.’
‘Mauri’s looking for me and you thought that you could bring me in?’ Dax probably would have laughed if he wasn’t in the midst of his intimidating routine. Ivy stayed where she was on the bed, not saying a word.
‘No, no, not me, Ravager, I would never… No, I would never think… I mean I could never—‘
‘Quit stuttering and tell me who you called, Brad or Bruno?’ Benny’s eyes flicked to her then to Dax and back to her. ‘Forget her.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I… never saw nothing, Ravage, nothing.’
This Benny guy was obviously low level and obviously scared of Dax. But he knew Mauri and Brad, so he was in the loop somehow. Ivy had done her best to avoid any interaction with criminal sorts. Just because you were poor didn’t mean you had to be dishonest. The underground circuit of fighting, syndicate drug dealing, and money laundering hadn’t been on her radar, but there was a complex hierarchy that she was just coming to know.
Avoiding criminality didn’t mean that Ivy hadn’t been squeaky clean, but her experiences were petty in comparison to how Dax had grown up. Throughout her life she’d had various associations with people who had addiction issues and criminal records tended to follow when her friends got in too deep. Bearing witness to the repeated downfall of anyone embroiled in that was part of the reason she’d always avoided the slippery slope.
‘Who did you call, Benny?’ Dax asked.
‘Bruno.’
Dax’s head tilted when he inhaled through his nose and even she couldn’t tell if this was a positive reaction or a bad one, and she had no idea what would happen next.
‘We’re going back tomorrow.’
‘Sure,’ Benny said. ‘Sure. Sure.’
‘You think I’m lying to you?’ Dax asked with a thread of disdain that curled his fingers around Benny’s throat again.
‘No! No, you’re not a liar, man. You’re a stand-up guy, yeah, I know that.’
‘You get back on that phone of yours and tell Bruno we’re on our way back. They can call off the dogs.’
‘I… I will…’ Benny said, relieved and grateful that he was making it out of this scenario alive and with all of his teeth.
Dax opened the hotel room door and chucked out the wimp of a man, then he whipped around to glare at her. ‘We have to go now.’
‘Tomorrow,’ she said. ‘You told me tomorro
w, and we were still talking about if we should—‘
‘We have to go back,’ he said. ‘They’re my family and that is my life, my life is there. Mauri has connections all over the country, he would find us if we ran and we have no reason to do that. We’re going to tell him that we got married, that we’re serious, and he’ll get it.’
‘He’ll get it,’ she said, not convinced but beginning to feel that their return to California was inevitable.
‘I still believe that we can fix this. You have to trust me,’ Dax said. She had asked for his trust, so she couldn’t flout his when he offered it and asked for the same in return. ‘Mauri will be shocked, but he’ll let me talk. He’ll let me fix this.’
‘Fix it how? By running his errands for the rest of your life? What about me?’
‘I’ll look after you. You don’t have to worry about—‘
‘What?’ she snapped. ‘You going to jail for life? Or getting yourself injured in a fight?’
‘Mauri has excellent lawyers, there’s no way that—‘
‘He could ruin us,’ she said, climbing off the bed to cross to him. Ivy squeezed her hands under his arms around his ribs. ‘If he doesn’t understand or let us off the hook with what we’ve done then who is to say he won’t use those lawyers against you?’
‘I trust him,’ Dax said, cradling her head in both hands. ‘He’s gonna understand. You asked me to trust you, and now you’re going to trust me. Get dressed.’
He left her in the bedroom and disappeared into the bathroom. Ivy remained on the spot, listening to him shower. She didn’t know if it was nerves or because he genuinely wanted to get back to the Starks with urgency but he was quick in the bathroom.
When he came back into the room he dressed in clean clothes, ready to get moving. Flinging everything of his into the sports bag, he clicked his fingers at her, which was his way of asking for his tee-shirt back. Whipping it off, she handed it over and he stuffed it into the bag while Ivy put on the dress and shoes she’d been wearing on their arrival.
‘You haven’t slept, will you be ok to drive?’ she asked.
Fighting Fate Page 23
