Grayson: A Bad Boy Romance

by Love, Amy

  “I’m telling you that we have to act as if everything is under control, Grayson, even if it’s not.” West’s calming voice on the other end of the line only makes Grayson angrier.

  “The fight is tonight, West. We have no fucking clue about where Adriana is or what Morrison has done to her!” Grayson rubs at his eyes, sore from lack of sleep. Tommy and Willow had visited every place that they could think of that might have a basement big enough for Morrison to be hiding Adriana without anyone noticing. They hadn’t come up with anything. Grayson had leaned on every underground element he still had connections with in Philly, but no one knew anything about Morrison’s plan. They were back at square one, with no information and no time.

  “You know as well as I do that Morrison likes to make a big show out of everything. There’s no way he’s going to miss being front and center at the fight tonight—if only to rub your face in it.” West sighs heavily, exhausted from the past few days.

  “And so what if he’s there? What choice does that leave me with? We’re still in the same position. Either I get the crap beaten out of me by Dexter or Adriana disappears.” Grayson rakes his fingers through his hair, frustrated that all they seem to be doing is going round and round in circles without getting anywhere.

  “Have you thought about what I said, Grayson?” West’s voice is apprehensive. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to bring this up again, but he feels like it needs to be said.

  “I don’t want to talk about it, West. Not now, not ever.” Grayson grits his teeth against the images that his words have brought to mind.

  “In case you hadn’t been paying attention, this isn’t about what you want, Grayson. This is about a shitty, shitty situation and part of that involves the fact that there’s no guarantee Morrison will give Adriana back if you do throw the fight.” West pauses to take a breath and calm himself down. “There’s no guarantee that he’s going to live up to his word; he never has before so there’s no reason he’ll start now.”

  “So what? Where does that leave us, West?” Grayson sinks into Adriana’s couch, wishing that he could turn back time, back to when everything wasn’t so messed up.

  “If there’s one thing that Morrison cares about it’s himself.” West lets the rest of his thought dangle in the air.

  “We get hold of him at the fight.” Grayson nods as West’s plan starts to take shape in his mind. “We take hold of him and make sure that he realizes that his life is in my hands…and if anything happens to Adriana, things aren’t going to end well for him.” His voice is grim with certainty. He had killed a man in the ring ten years ago by accident, but this is the first time he was actually prepared to kill someone. There’s no doubt in his mind that if Morrison has hurt Adriana—he doesn’t allow himself to think or worse—Grayson will squeeze the life out of him, without a second thought and without losing any sleep over it.

  “Careful, Grayson. It’s a slippery slope.” The warning in West’s voice is loud and clear. He’s worked with Grayson for years, trying to get him out of the mental hole that he’d put himself after that first fight. He doesn’t want to see him go back down that road. “Now try to get some sleep before the fight tonight; you’re going to need it.” West pauses before he hangs up, not wanting to ask the question that he knows he has to. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

  “I’m going to do whatever gets Adriana back to me in one piece, West. Whatever that is…that’s what I’m going to do.” Grayson ends the call, bowing his head and wishing for the hundredth time that he had driven Adriana home that morning instead of putting her in a taxi. If he had been there, then none of this would have happened.

  He’s so wired he doesn’t feel like sleeping, regardless of how tired he is. It almost seems wrong to sleep, knowing that Adriana is out there somewhere, frightened and alone. It feels selfish. However, his body doesn’t understand that. All his body understands is that he feels like he’s been through the wringer over the past few days. He’s exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally—the holy trinity. He lets his head drop back onto the couch and closes his eyes, letting his body drift away, hoping that he’ll dream, and knowing that’s where he’ll see Adriana.

  He’s woken by a buzzing, like an irate mosquito. He blinks a few times, looking around him, remembering where he is. The buzzing stops and then all of a sudden it starts again. He’s completely disoriented, but the flashing screen of his cell brings him back to the present. It’s a number that he doesn’t recognize, probably another one of Morrison’s burner phones. He goes to answer it and then thinks better of it.

  It’s as if those few hours of sleep have given him the clarity he’d been lacking since Adriana disappeared. Let him wait, he thinks, as the call ends and his screen goes dark. Grayson has let Morrison lead him around the garden path, letting him threaten and blackmail him for years. This is his one shot at getting Adriana back, and he needs to regain some control. Tommy had called him Morrison’s puppet, but he refuses to be that guy anymore. It is high time that Grayson puts him on the back foot and pushes his buttons for a change. It is the only way he is going to get Adriana back. Now, he knows exactly what he needs to do. He has to play Morrison just like Morrison has been playing him.

  He resists the urge to answer the phone as soon as it starts vibrating against the soft leather couch again. He counts slowly to five and then picks up, hoping that his acting skills are up to scratch. He’s not a born manipulator like Morrison, so he just has to do the best he can.

  “Grayson.” He answers the phone, yawning, as if he could care less who’s on the other end of the line.

  “Sorry, did I interrupt your afternoon nap?” Morrison’s amused tone is only half-concealing his anger at not having his first two calls answered. The message that Grayson was trying to send him seems to have been received.

  “Just catching up on some rest before the big fight.” Grayson yawns again theatrically, wondering if he might be overdoing it. “What can I do for you Morrison?”

  Stunned silence from a man who usually has enough to say for both of them tells Grayson that he’s on the right track. He’s confused Morrison, reacted in a way that he would never have expected. Morrison at least suspects the way that Grayson feels about Adriana. There’s nothing that would surprise him more than Grayson acting like none of this drama matters to him anymore.

  “I wanted to make sure you were clear about your instructions for the fight tonight.” Morrison’s voice is tight, like he’s forcing the words out. He’d called to gloat, to dangle Adriana in front of Grayson again only to snatch her away, but now he is confused. He’s no longer in a situation that he is sure of and that lack of control is unnerving to him.

  “I’m clear. Anything else?” Grayson’s voice is flat, completely neutral, as if they were talking about the weather.

  Grayson can almost hear the cogs turning in Morrison’s brain as he casts around for something that will get a reaction out of him. “I thought you might want to discuss how to deal with the handover of Adriana after you throw the fight.”

  Grayson clenches his hand into a fist, forcing himself to keep calm at the mention of Adriana’s name. “That’s if she’s even still alive.” He has to force the words out, reminding himself that he’s playing the only hand he has left.

  Morrison chuckles lightly. “Is that what you’re concerned about? I can assure that she is more or less the same as you last found her. Mr. Elliott got a little carried away with her, but you know how these things work. Boys will be boys after all.”

  Grayson doesn’t speak until he’s sure that he can keep the intense emotion out of his voice. The idea of one of Morrison’s goons touching one hair on her head is almost more than he can bear. “If you’re really asking me to throw the biggest fight of my career and get my ass handed to me by a fighter I could beat with both eyes closed, then you’re going to have to give me more than your assurances, Morrison.” He holds his breath, waiting for the other man’s re
ply.

  “Kid, as I said before, you’re not exactly in the best bargaining position.” Morrison laughs dryly, and the coldness of it sends a shiver down Grayson’s spine.

  “Actually I think I am.” Grayson gets up, pacing around the room, expending the energy that’s building up inside of him at Morrison’s words. “You need me to do something for you. That puts me in a pretty good position I think.”

  He can almost hear Morrison growling. “What do you want?”

  Grayson looks up to the ceiling, forcing himself to remain calm and not let his emotions come between him and getting Adriana back. “I want Adriana to be at the fight. I want to see her and make sure that she’s alright. Then, and only then, will I do what you’ve asked.”

  Morrison is silent as he considers Grayson’s offer. “And why on earth would I agree to that?”

  “Because you want your money, Morrison. You and I both know that.” Grayson doesn’t wait for his reply, ending the call abruptly and forcing himself to pocket the cell that starts vibrating again insistently. He’s given Morrison the terms of their agreement and made sure to make it clear that without Adriana there’s no deal. He’d thrown out the challenge. Now, he just has to hope that Morrison is greedy enough and arrogant enough to throw caution to the wind and bring Adriana to a public place, where he can’t control all the variables.

  Grayson leaves Adriana’s apartment, his mind whirring as his plan becomes more and more definite in his own mind. He calls West. “I’m on my way. Get everyone together. I know what we need to do.” Morrison has been playing with fire, and he’s about to get burned.

  ADRIANA

  It is disconcerting to Adriana, as she is driven with a blindfold over her eyes. She has no idea of where she’s going or what’s going to happen when she gets there. She had been given a clean shirt and the chance to wash her face in a bowl to remove the grime from the basement. The fresh water also rinsed away the blood that caked her swollen lip from the punch that Mr. Elliott had so generously bestowed on her. The restraints around her wrists had been untied, as well. For one glorious moment, Adriana had thought that she was being let go. That was until Morrison had pushed something into the small of her back and told her that if she moved he would blow a hole through her.

  “Where are we going?” She tries to keep her voice level, but it’s hard since a gun is trained on her.

  “We’re going to see Grayson. I thought that’s what you wanted?” Morrison’s normal cool exterior seems to be slipping slightly, and Adriana wonders what might have caused it.

  “You’re taking me to the fight?” She’s breathless with anticipation. The idea that she’s going to see Grayson is almost unimaginable. She was beginning to think she was never going to see him again.

  “Don’t get too excited, my dear. If things go the way I hope they will, then you may not enjoy what you see very much.” Morrison hisses in her ear like a serpent, sounding like he’s actually excited about seeing Grayson get pummeled.

  “You’re a piece of work.” She mumbles, wishing—not for the first time—that she could have five minutes alone in a room with Morrison without being tied up and held at gunpoint.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, Adriana.” He sounds like he’s barely even listening to her, as if his mind is elsewhere.

  “It wasn’t meant as one.” She doesn’t bother to tone down her responses; Morrison is clearly in his own head. She hears him moving around on the seat next to her, and it occurs to her that he’s fidgeting. This is a man who is stringent about the control he exercises in all things, but something or someone has made him nervous. She can only hope that the someone is Grayson.

  GRAYSON

  The setting of this fight couldn’t be any more poetic. The organizers wanted to go for something dramatic for the state championship, so they’d gone all out on creating a setting that would be talked about. They had decided to use a disused warehouse by the water, and they’d filled it with lights and props to make it look even more horrific. To Grayson, it looks like the kind of places that he used to fight in, kind of like the one where he killed a man.

  But he can’t think about that now. As he hears the announcer say his name, he walks through the tunnel, putting on his game face and raising his hands. West walks behind him, scanning the crowd, looking out for Morrison and Adriana. Out of the corner of his eye Grayson can see Willow and Tommy at opposite ends, moving through the crowd, on red alert for Adriana.

  “Good luck, Grayson.” West bows his head as he says the words, so that Grayson won’t catch the look of fear in his eyes. However, it’s too late for that. Now, all that matters is getting into the ring and doing what needs to be done.

  The announcer raises his arm, exciting the crowd, but Grayson isn’t listening. He’s focused on the crowd, but there are too many people and too much noise. It’s an assault on the senses, making it impossible to find the one person whom he’s looking for.

  The bell rings, and for the first time, Grayson takes in the sight of Dexter, ‘The Destroyer.’ They’re equally matched in terms of height and weight. Grayson has studied the way Dexter moves, how he fights, and the submissions that he uses. But he forces that knowledge out of his head; it’s no good to him. He’s not here to win. He’s here to string the fight out until the third round and then let Dexter take him down.

  The first punch blind-sides him, as Dexter’s fist smashes into his face. Grayson had been looking out into the crowd, desperately searching for Adriana. He hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on in the ring. He focuses back on Dexter to see him frowning at Grayson in confusion. They’ve sparred together enough times before for Dexter to know when Grayson isn’t giving his all.

  Grayson swings a roundhouse, connecting with Dexter’s side and knocking the wind out of him. A roar goes up from the crowd at the action, and he feels himself getting pumped by all the adrenaline in the place. But no, he reminds himself, this isn’t about giving the crowd what they want. He has to measure his punches, take more care and, above all, take more hits. He steels himself not to block a kick from Dexter and feels the full weight of the man go crashing into his knee, his eyes blurring from the pain. That’s when he sees her. Towards the back, standing in between Morrison and a man that looks like one of his typical goons, is Adriana. Tears are streaming down her face.

  ADRIANA

  Adriana covers her hand with her mouth, trying to force the tears back as she watches Grayson getting pummeled. The only thing worse than seeing him get hurt is knowing that she’s the reason for it.

  “Grayson come on. Fight back.” She says the words under her breath, already having been warned about drawing attention to herself. But, as if Grayson has heard her, his head snaps up, and he looks straight at her.

  In that moment, she feels like all the love that she has for him goes rushing into her heart, filling her up. She watches him as he takes another hit from Dexter, his eyes never leaving hers. She shakes her head at him, trying to make him understand that she doesn’t want this to happen to him. The bell rings, and Grayson wipes away the blood from a cut above his eye as he heads back to his corner. He looks up at her, pain in his eyes, but not for himself for her.

  She wants to run to him, tend to his wounds, and tell him that he doesn’t need to do this, not for her. She wants to tell him that she loves him, and that she doesn’t care about what happened at the fight all those years ago. She knows the kind of man that he is. She knows that whatever happened in the ring that night…there was a reason for it. She knows Grayson, and she knows he’s not a killer.

  She tries to squirm out of Mr. Elliott’s hold but his hand on her arm is too tight. He squeezes her bicep hard, making her cry out and the gun that Morrison is holding to her ribs digs in a little more.

  “You move, you die. Remember that, my dear.” Morrison’s words come out through gritted teeth, as he looks at her like a benign father figure. Anyone watching them would probably have thought that he was a fri
end.

  Adriana would like to think that he wouldn’t shoot her in a crowd full of people with so many witnesses, but she doesn’t plan on putting that theory to the test. Out of the corner of her eye she sees a flash of red hair. Willow is a few rows down, looking at her and looking dangerously like she’s about to burst into tears. Adriana shakes her head, hoping that the slight movement has been seen by her friend but gone unnoticed by the men either side of her. Willow can’t raise the alarm—not yet, not when there’s so much still hanging in the balance.

  The bell rings again, and Adriana fixes her full attention back onto the ring and the two men circling each other.

  GRAYSON

  Grayson feints at Dexter half-heartedly, lowering his guard and allowing another gut punch to land, doubling over and giving Dexter the opportunity to deliver an uppercut to his chin. Grayson tastes blood and spits it out onto the floor of the ring. They’re halfway through the second round, and he needs to start taking more hits if a knockout in the third round is going to be believable. But as he drops his blocks and softens his own punches, he notices that something isn’t right.