Shit. Guess her dad’s not the only POS in the family.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Mom, but he’s your ex. You married him; you deal with him.”
My fingers itch to rip the tiny cell from her hand and tell her mother exactly what I think of her choice to reproduce with Eve’s fuck-head father. Although if she hadn’t, Eve wouldn’t exist. The thought alone is depressing.
“Sounds good. Talk to you next year.” She doesn’t wait before hitting End and tossing the phone to the foot of the bed.
“Everything okay?”
She nods and rolls to fit herself along my side. I pull her in and sift my fingers through her hair.
“That was my mom.”
“Gathered that.”
“My dad called her and told her that I’d abandoned him since he didn’t get a single cent of my last paycheck.”
“Nice guy.” A growl rumbles in my chest. What the fuck is up with these people?
“Ha. Yeah, my mom doesn’t want to deal with him, so she’s trying to get me to kick him something so he’ll leave her alone.”
“You think he’ll show up at her place? Clean her out like he did you?”
She shakes her head, her fingers tracing a pattern on my abdomen. “Nah, she lives in North Carolina. If he had the money to track her down, he’d gamble it before he made it to the airport.”
“Sounds like she had the right idea getting away from him.”
“Mm.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?”
“I wasn’t invited. She left when I was a kid.”
My stomach churns, and my fist clenches into her hair. I force myself to loosen my grip. “Sorry to hear that, but sounds like you’re better off without her.”
She nods into my chest again. Abandoned by her mother, raised with a dick for a father, the only real family she had growing up was her best friend and a teacher.
No wonder she seems older than she is. She’s lived the kind of pain and abandonment that would lend to an edge in her demeanor: a street-taught maturity that only comes from pulling through the shitty dredges of life’s circumstances. Warmth spreads through my chest. She’s been delivered the hits, taken them blow for blow, and she’s still standing.
“When did your last check come in?”
“Friday. Why?”
“You think your Dad will come snoopin’ around since you didn’t pay up?”
She shrugs. “He’s called. I didn’t answer. No clue what he’ll do, but I wouldn’t put it past him to show up.”
“Right.” I smack her sweet ass and she jumps with a squeak. “Get up, babe. I’m taking you to the training center. Next time you come face to face with your pops you’ll be able to lay him to the ground if he steps foot in your place.”
She tilts her head back and rests her chin on my chest. “You’re gonna teach me how to kick some ass?” An excited smile pulls at her lips.
“I am.” I lean down and brush a soft kiss across her lips. “Need to know if he shows up you’ll be able to handle yourself until I get there.”
If he puts her in a position where she has to protect herself, I will kill him.
~*~
Eve
We’re standing in the middle of the octagon, and I don’t care how sexy he looks sweaty. He’s crazy if he thinks he’s going to win this fight.
“Quit your bitchin’ and put ’em on.” Cameron shoves the pair of lightly padded gloves at me again.
“No way.” I hold my hands up and back, shaking my head. “You’ve tortured me enough. I’m done.”
This was a mistake. I thought we’d head to the training center and he’d teach me how to kill a man using some fancy jui-jitsu nerve pinch. I was wrong. It wasn’t until he pulled me through the doors of the weight room when he informed me in his usual bossy way that we were going to work out. We.
After I not so politely explained that I don’t work out, he threw my ass on the treadmill to warm up. I figured it would be over sooner if I cooperated. He took me through a list of things with ridiculous names: deadlifts, burpees, and something called cat-vomit crunches, which sounded ridiculous until I did them and realized they’re aptly named. At last when he explained I’d done enough, he shows me to the octagon where he’s going to teach me something. Now. After an hour of misery? Nope. Not happenin’.
“Hardly torture, doll.” He’s grinning his not so big but totally big for him grin.
“Uh, yeah. It was.” I throw my arm out toward the weight room door. “For the love of God, Cameron, you made me run!”
He shoves the gloves toward me again, his lips twitching. “We’re not done.”
“Oh.” I cock a hip and wave a finger in his face. “We so are.” I point to my damp hairline. “You made me sweat!”
He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth clearly trying to hide his amusement.
“My body feels noodley.” I pick my shirt with two fingers. “And I’m all wet!”
His smile dies, and his eyes narrow into a heated glare that makes my tummy flip. He dips his chin and looks at me from under his eyebrows. “Put ’em on.”
I take a step back, and my blood races when he advances toward me.
“Not putting them on, Cameron.”
He tilts his head, and damn, I feel that look between my legs.
Another step. “It’s my responsibility to make you wet and exhausted.” One more step. “Let me do my job.”
My back hits chain link. He closes the space between us, and I’m practically begging for him to touch me. “No.”
“Yvette.”
I roll my eyes.
“On.” He holds out the gloves so that they brush against the tip of my breast.
A slow shiver runs down my spine and across my sweat-dampened skin. He’s glaring down at me with eyes that promise a reward if I obey. I hold out my hand and he slides one glove on before the other with a smug look of satisfaction on his perfect face.
He kisses my forehead. “That’s my girl.”
I close my eyes, suck in a shaky breath, and allow the warmth of his approval to wash over me.
“Eyes open, doll.”
They pop wide at his firm command, and I watch in awe as his large powerful body moves to the center of the octagon. With a flick of his wrist, he waves me over before sliding circular pads on each hand.
My shoulders slump, and I drag my overly exerted and now aroused body to meet him in the middle of the cage. When I meet his eyes, something looks different. This is a different Cameron. The heat of his glare is dark and determined. His jaw is clenched and his body’s standing firm, feet planted, and prepared. I don’t have a single doubt as to who I’m looking at now. This is UFL Heavyweight Cameron Kyle.
Embarrassingly, this Cameron shoots a straight shot of we-need-to-get-naked straight to my veins.
He holds his padded hands up like targets. “Let’s see how you hit.” He nods to my gloved hands. “Make a fist. Bring ’em up.”
I do as I’m told.
“Higher. Too low and they do you no good.”
I raise my fists higher, every command from his gravelly voice impossible to ignore.
“Good. Now”—he brings the targets up—“focus. Hit.”
Nervous but determined, I throw a punch and connect with his hand. Damn, that felt great.
“Again.”
I do it again and again until I’m breathing heavily.
He steps back, rips the pads off his hands, and tosses them aside. “Not bad, but probably not enough to fight off an attacker.” He waves me closer.
I move in, so close I can feel the heat radiating off his massive body and see every detail of his stubbled chin.
His dark gaze drops to my lips; it traces the line of my jaw back to my eyes. “I’m gonna put my hands on you now.”
Yes, please do.
“Fight me off.”
I nod, not trusting my voice to hide how insanely turned on I am. He reaches for me, and I try to dodge his
grip, but he’s too fast. His hands lock around both my wrists, and I jerk back, away from his unrelenting hold. I pull harder, tug against him, but he’s too strong. Throwing my entire body weight back, I try to wrench my arms free.
“Enough.” He lets me go. “You’re doing exactly what I’d expect. You’re pulling away.”
I look from side to side. Is he joking? “Well, yeah. You told me to fight you off.”
“Right, but the key to a good defense is actually stepping into the hold.” He waves me back into position. “Let me show you. Come at me.”
Gladly.
I reach forward and grab his wrists just as he did mine. He steps close, twists into my hold, and I’m airborne.
I land on my back in the cushion of his arms. “Whoa!” I blink up at him. “What was that?”
His mouth gets soft and he leans in close. “Takedown.”
“There’s no way I’ll be able to do that.”
“Sure you can.”
“But you’re way bigger than me. Way stronger.”
“The most effective self-defense moves are joint manipulation. I rolled into your hold, took advantage of the angles. Only time I used my strength was to catch you, which by the way you won’t do in a self-defense situation.”
I glare at him and shove him away from me. “Okay, smartass. Teach me that.”
He pulls me to my feet, and we work through the moves a few more times until I’m able to twist into him enough to make him grimace and let go.
I grin huge and watch him shake out his arms. “I did it!”
“You did. On to lesson two.” He moves behind me. “Let’s say you get grabbed from behind.” He locks his arms around my chest, his warm breath at my ear. “Fight me.”
A shiver races down my spine and goose bumps rip up and down my arms. A low, approving chuckle vibrates his chest.
I pull against him, but his grip only tightens. Dammit. He told me to step into the hold. I need to lean back. Shifting my weight, I press my back to his front.
“Atta girl, Eve. Think. Use your mind to fight.”
My mind. Right. I close my eyes and feel his big, powerful body wrapped around me. I could stomp on his feet. I’ve seen that in moves before, but I don’t think that would be enough to get him to let go.
His hold gets tighter. “Side step.”
I do what he says.
“One more.”
I take another step to the side.
“Now, reach back with your left leg and hook behind my knee.”
Our legs almost side by side now, it’s easy to push back with my leg and hook his.
“Exactly, baby. Now throw your weight behind that leg and—shit!” His arms peel away from my body, and he stumbles a few steps. “That’s it.”
“I did it?”
“You did it. And I wasn’t making it easy on you.” Pride shines in his eyes, and a small grin dances across his lips.
“Can we do it again?” I’m practically tingling with excitement as power surges through my muscles.
I don’t know if the feeling is more from being able to execute the move, or if it’s from the look on his face that is still shining at me.
My guess is the second.
“Let’s do it.” He steps in close and wraps his arms around me from behind. “Focus. Orientate yourself.”
I nod.
“Right, now break free from me.”
Never.
Twenty-Six
Cameron
Seven twenty, seven twenty, seven twenty . . .
My pen traces the numbers into my notebook on repeat. The twentieth day of July. One of two days I never need to write in my planner to remember.
Today is the twins’ eighteenth birthday.
It hit me before I woke up as if I’m on some fucked-up alarm system that only remembers the worst shit imaginable. Every cell in my body and ounce of blood pumping through my veins could never forget the day I held my kids in my arms for the first time.
Life was so fucking promising back then with the entire future at our feet. And Rosie, she had enough life for the two of them. Always squirming, she hated being wrapped up tightly the way most babies loved. It was as if she knew there was so much waiting for her out there and she couldn’t wait to get at it.
Three years. All she got was three fucking years.
I Frisbee my notebook across the office, amazed I was even able to do that when my body feels as if it’s filled with concrete.
The phone on my desk buzzes. “Hey, Cam?” Layla’s voice is tentative, having probably heard me toss my planner.
“Yeah.”
“The guy from Cage Freak wants to know if he can set up a meeting with you today. I saw you cleared your schedule, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t looking at it wrong.”
“I’m leaving at noon.” Before I take Ryder out to dinner tonight, I have a few errands to run, and every one of them is going to be unpleasant.
“Oh, sure, okay, I’ll set him up for tomorrow.” The intercom clicks off.
I should write that down somewhere. In scribbled words, I make a note and stick it to my computer screen.
The intercom buzzes again. “Sorry to bother you, but there’s pretty little blonde out here whose mouth will put what’s written on a truck stop bathroom stall to shame.”
Eve? What’s she doing here?
“Want me to send her in?”
“Please.”
I stand and move around my desk just as the office door swings open. Eve saunters in all smiles and swaying hips. For the first time today, I’m able to take a full breath.
“Surprise.” She holds out her arms, grimaces, and curls her arms around her chest. “Ouch.” Her fingers rub circles into her triceps. “I’m still sore from the other day.”
“That’s good. We’ll have to get you back in the weight room.” I pull her close for a hug, dragging her sugar-and-spice-scented hair deep into my lungs. “What brings you by?”
“Oh, I had to tell you. I just had a job interview.”
Well, that explains why she’s dressed up, but this kind of a long summery get-up with a deep vee that shows off her ample cleavage isn’t something I’d consider interview material.
“Where?”
“Pool at Mandalay.”
I guess sexy beach casual makes more sense.
“How’d it go?”
She shrugs, and I release my hold enough so she can back up a step, but I keep my arms around her waist. Being in the same room with her is calming, and touching her is even better.
“Good, I think.” She worries her bottom lip. “I’m not really sure. I applied for one of the supervisor positions, but told them I’d take first available even if that means I have to pounce around in a G-string and sling drinks to drunks.”
A low growl hums in my chest. “Don’t know how I feel about that, doll.”
That’s not true. I’m good and fucking sure I hate that.
“Money is money. I’m just trying to earn enough to feed myself, pay the bills, and hopefully have enough to get a pizza from time to time.
Slinging drinks in a G-string? Nope. Not happenin’. “Layla’s going on maternity leave in two months. Until then, I’ve got enough going on to keep you both busy.”
She backs away, her big and very wide eyes on me. “You’d . . . but you don’t know anything about me.”
I lift an eyebrow and feel the side of my mouth curve. Leave it to Eve to get a smile out of me on today of all days. “You sure about that?”
Her cheeks flush. “Oh, no, I mean . . . yeah, you know me like . . . naked or whatever, but you don’t know anything about my work ethic or how I operate under pressure. You’ve never seen me handle a challenge or problem solve.”
“Sure as shit have. You want the job; it’s yours. It’ll give you plenty of time to train with Layla so when she’s gone it’ll be a smooth transition. She can take as much time as she wants, and it’ll give you some valuable work experience on your re
sume.”
She’s staring at me, her jaw hanging on its hinges. Her eyes flutter and she shakes her head. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a genius?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I hear that a lot.”
She launches herself into my arms. “Thank you, Cameron. I swear I’ll work so hard. I’m a fast learner.” She smothers my neck and jaw with quick kisses. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” With a quick, jerk she leans back and covers her mouth. “Oh, but no kissing the boss, right? Sorry.”
“Fuck, doll, if there’s no kissing, then I revoke my offer.”
She slaps my chest just as Layla pops her head through the cracked door.
“Sounds like we’re celebrating.”
“Cameron’s going to hire me while you’re on maternity leave.” Eve jumps up and down clapping her hands.
The girls hug and start talking about how much fun they’ll have, and for a second, I wonder if there’ll be any work going on between them or if it’ll be mainly gossip and chick talk.
I grab my notebook off the floor and move around my desk to check the time. Almost noon.
“Let’s go to lunch and celebrate.” Eve’s eyes swing to mine. “Is that okay? Or do you have fighter boss shit to do?”
“Yeah, I’ve got some things I need to take care of before tonight.” I drop my gaze to my desk because I know if I make eye contact she’ll see I’m not giving her everything. And knowing Eve, she’ll pry until she gets it.
“Aw, poop.” Her brief disappointment is soothed when Layla describes the new sandwich place that opened up down the street.
I grab my keys and shut things down for the day while listening to them moan over what they’re calling “fancy chicken salad.”
“Eve, babe, I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.” I brush a small kiss against her lips and roll my eyes at the gooey-girlie sound that Layla makes.
Once out of my office, the oppressive weight is back.
Seven twenty, seven twenty, seven twenty . . .
The day I was handed everything I’d never appreciate until I lost it.
##
Suicide isn’t always quick. For some, it’s slow, dirty, and more complicated than a bullet through the skull or a belly full of pills: a daily decision to syphon any fight they have left, drown it in substance and depression. Death by sheer will to be done with this world combined with the weakness to fucking man up and end it.
Fighting the Fall Page 21
