It’s anger born of unadulterated fear.
Oh shit.
He stands up and sends his chair back against the wall hard. “Tell me she’s okay!” His voice cracks with emotion.
Something happened to Raven. Oh shit . . . the baby.
Jonah bolts to the door. “Where is she? I’m on my way.” He knocks into the doorframe and staggers down the hallway.
Without even thinking to do so, I’m right behind him, treading the steps he’s taking. He still has his phone to his ear. I’m two steps behind him and about to reach out and grab his arm to stop him when he drops.
Slowly, so fucking slowly, he drops to his knees.
Falls.
Oh God.
He curls in on himself and a groan-like roar of agony billows through the hall, practically shaking the walls. Panic seizes my thoughts, and I’m overcome with a singular mission to help.
“I’ll drive.” I hold out my hand to help him up. “Just tell me where.”
He tilts his head back, and his eyes are rimmed red. “Desert Springs Memorial.”
“Got it.” I pull him to his feet, and we charge out to my car.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but memories from the past are knocking to get in. I need to stay focused and get Jonah to his wife and unborn baby. Before it’s too late.
Thirty-Two
Cameron
The car is still moving when Jonah jumps from the Maserati in the hospital’s emergency driveway. I leave the car there and run after him. The sterile scent of the room ignites a flood of memories that mix with current events and have me struggling to stay in the moment.
This isn’t Rosie. Not Rosie.
“My wife, where is she?” Jonah looms over the young girl at the admissions desk. “She’s seven months pregnant.”
The girl’s eyes are wide on him, most likely scared shitless by the 250-pound fighter who looks as if he’s about to rip someone’s arms clean off their body. “Oh, um . . . I need a . . . name, sir?”
“Fuck, just tell me she’s okay.” Jonah shoves his hands through his hair. “Jesus, God, please, they need to be okay.”
He looks seconds away from completely losing his shit and tearing the walls down to find his woman.
I push him aside and go to the desk. “Hi, um”—I read her nametag—“Carol, her name is Raven Slade. She’s seven months pregnant and was brought in about twenty minutes ago.”
She nods and types a few things on her computer. “Yes, she’s um . . .” More typing.
“Where the fuck is my wife?” Jonah’s question thunders off the walls and slick floors, attracting the attention of security guards nearby. They start to close in.
I hold out my hand to them and turn toward Jonah. “Slade, cut that shit out.”
His eyes dart around the room, unfocused, tears brimming. Fuck.
I stand up tall so we’re roughly the same height. “Look at me. Hey.” I slap him lightly in the face to get his attention, and he turns a hateful glare at me. “Pull your shit together now. You’ll do your wife no good by getting arrested. You want to help Raven and the baby; you need to fucking man the fuck up and be strong; you hear me?”
He blinks a few times, and some of the rage behind his eyes dissolves.
“That’s right. There you go. This is title-fight time; bring your fucking A-game. Do you understand?”
He nods.
“Good, now stop scaring the piss out of this poor girl, and let’s get a lockdown on your woman.”
“Yeah.” He nods a few more times. “Right.”
Still a mess, but at least he’s not looking murderous.
I turn back to Carol, who hands us a few pieces of paper. “If you could fill these out—”
“No, first you tell me where the fuck my wife is.” Jonah’s growled words make Carol’s hand shake.
“Sir, your wife, Raven?” She shifts on her feet and eyes me nervously.
Oh fuck, this can’t be good.
Carol clears her throat. “All I know is she was involved in a hit and run. T-boned pretty bad.”
“No.” He shakes his head and stumbles back a step.
“Jonah, man. Dig deep for it,” I say loud enough for only his ears.
“She was unconscious when they brought her in, and they rushed her right into surgery, but that’s all I know.”
Jonah’s jaw is tight, his mouth in a thin line, and a single tear escapes his eye.
Hands on my hips, I drop my head with the weight of what Jonah’s feeling. I know it, have lived it, and fucking live it every day of my life. Pain, regret, anger.
She puts the papers down and shoves them toward him. “If you could—”
He turns his back on her and storms outside.
I pick up the papers and grab a pen. “Thank you. I’ll get these taken care of.”
She nods and flashes a sad smile that makes me hurt even worse for the heavyweight fighter.
“Do you know if the woman Mrs. Slade came in with has any relatives? We can’t seem to—”
“Woman?” My head goes light, and my spine tingles. I brace my weight on the desk. “She wasn’t alone?”
“No, she had a passenger in the car with her.” She looks at her computer screen. “A woman by the name of Yvette—”
White noise. Total static. I don’t need to hear the rest of what she has to say. Eve’s hurt. The room tilts on its side, and my knees buckle. I wobble but hold tight to the desktop, refusing to fall.
“What happened to her? Is she okay?”
She checks out her computer screen and makes a few clicks. “Are you family?”
“No, but”—I point over my shoulder to the doors Jonah stormed out of minutes ago—“we’re the closest thing she has to family.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I can’t give any information out unless you’re related.”
I lean forward, desperate for something. Anything. “Please, just . . . can you give me something? Is she . . .?” I swallow hard. “Is it bad?”
Her eyes dart to her computer screen then come back to me. “I can’t—”
“Carol, please.”
A long sigh escapes her lips. “Her injuries are internal. Doctors are waiting on the results of an MRI.”
Internal, meaning she’s okay. Right? God, please let her be okay.
“Thank you.” My pulse pounds in my ears.
I spin around, dizzy at how quickly things went from bad to fucking worse, and spot Jonah through the sliding glass doors. He’s sitting on the curb with his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking. My chest cramps, and I move into the waiting room to give him privacy to breakdown and plead to God for a miracle.
##
It’s been two hours, and the hospital waiting room is practically alive with the tension of pacing fighters. After word got out, Blake, Mason, Caleb, Killer, and even Rex showed up. They maintain their distance from Jonah, but stick close enough to keep him from putting his fist through a wall, or worse, through someone’s face.
I rub my eyes, pushing at the headache that started the second we got here and hasn’t quit. My past collides with the present, and even though I can somewhat relate to what Jonah’s going through, that’s not what’s fucking me up the most. Maybe it’s the added weight of watching one of my fighters face the possibility of losing his wife and unborn baby. Whatever it is, one thing is clear. My feelings for Eve are way more serious than they should be.
Eve’s managed to become important to me without me even knowing. Like a muscle you don’t even realize you have until it’s sore, she slid right in undetected, and hearing that she’s hurt twists a pain deep in my gut. When did she become more than someone who makes things light or whose bad attitude is the best comedy? She’s not a woman who I keep around because it’s easy or convenient as I first thought. She’s so much more. And fuck, but I never gave her permission to be all that.
She deserves better than the dregs I have left to offer. And what little I do have, I
don’t want to give. Because I know what happens when I love people more than myself, care more for them than I do anything else. When they’re gone, the pain is unimaginable. And Jonah hunched forward with his head in his palms is a disturbing illustration of exactly what I don’t want. Just looking at the guy is like a nut-shot to the chest that pisses me the fuck off.
The walls are too close and the air’s too heavy. I can’t breathe. I don’t bother excusing myself and move toward the double sliding glass doors to get some air.
“Sir, I realize that you say you’re her father, but without an ID, we can’t relinquish details of Miss Dawson’s condition.”
My head jerks to the admission desk.
“Go ahead and ask her. She’ll tell you. I’m her dad. Cass Dawson. Ask her.”
No shit? What in the motherfucking hell is this asswipe doing here?
This guy looks old enough to be Eve’s grandpa: gray hair and a wrinkled tee that hangs off bony shoulders and exposes frail arms. Looks as if the gambling Vegas lifestyle has aged him more than his years.
“You’re welcome to wait until she gets admitted into a room, sir. But without a valid ID, I can’t help you.”
I sidle up less than a foot from him, and his eyes dart to me. His weak sneer turns to panic when his gaze focuses over my shoulder. I don’t have to look over to know that Jonah’s standing at my back. I can feel the tension of his anger behind me.
“You’ve got some nerve showing your face here after what you did to Eve.” Jonah steps around me and growls down at the puny man.
Mr. Dipshit’s eyes move back and forth between Jonah and me before they finally widen in recognition. “Ah, you must be Raven’s guy.”
Jonah steps closer to the man at the sound of his wife’s name.
“Easy, Slade.” I don’t dare lay a hand on the fighter, who’s clearly been pushed passed his tolerance. “You’ve got better things to do than take out the garbage.”
Eve’s dad takes a step back while Jonah seems to contemplate my suggestion.
“Hey, I don’t want any trouble.” He holds his hands up and shakes his head. “I’ll uh . . . I’ll just catch up with my daughter later.”
“Find it fucking hilarious that you’ve got the balls to call her your daughter.” Jonah’s practically vibrating with anger. “Last night you threw your daughter to a fucking shark.”
I whip my glare from Cass to Jonah. What the shit? “Fuck you talkin’ about, brother?”
Jonah doesn’t take his eyes from Eve’s dad. “Picked Eve up on a fucking street corner this morning after she was chased out of her own damn house by some loan shark.” He tilts his head, glaring through the man who’s about to taste his own blood. “Middle of the night, dude shows up to collect on your debt. She was hiding for hours under stairs in her pajamas, motherfucker.”
My vision swims in red. He did fucking what? “Tell me he’s wrong.” The last word fades into a snarl. My fists clench and I wait.
The scumbag has the decency to look ashamed.
“Listen to me.” I lean in close, so much so that I smell booze and stale cigarette smoke wafting from his body. “I’m gonna walk you out. You will not come back here. You will not contact Eve, and from this point on”—my teeth grind together painfully—“you don’t have a daughter.”
“Listen. You’re hearing lies from the girl.” He holds his hands up and stumbles back a step.
“The girl is no longer your concern.” I jerk my chin toward the doors. “Now, let me help you find your car.” My lips pull back over my teeth, and I’m salivating at the opportunity to throat punch this pathetic excuse.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he says in a whisper meant only for me.
Jonah pushes closer to me. “Want, no. But you’ve fucking earned it. You mess with Eve again, those loan sharks will look like guardian angels compared to the shit we’ll put you through.”
His tiny brown and bloodshot eyes dart between us. “You guys threatening me?”
“Bet your ass, we are.” I swing my gaze to Jonah and he nods. “Right, so let’s get you on your way, Cass.” My muscles coil. Ready. “Come on.” I head outside and don’t look back, but as I walk away, I sense Jonah’s shifted to stand behind Eve’s dad, most likely breathing down his neck so that he doesn’t have any other choice but to follow me out.
Seconds later, the little shit skirts by me in a full sprint. He’s running just as fast as his feeble legs can carry him.
“Nice try, bitch.” I hook him by the elbow and search for a more private area.
“Teach him a lesson he won’t forget,” Jonah says to my back. “Want good news to share with my girl when she’s out of surgery.”
He digs his heels into the ground. “Wha—no!”
“Ten-four, man.” I continue to lead—drag—him outside and tell myself I can’t kill the guy.
“Hold on, I . . .” He bucks in my hold as we turn toward the alley behind the hospital. “What do you want? I’ll pay you—”
I stop, whirl the lanky shit around, and throw him against a brick wall. “With what? Your daughter’s money?”
He claws at my fists, which are gripped into his shirt. “What? I don’t know what you’re—”
“You lying sack of shit. I picked up the pieces of the girl you left behind after you robbed her.” I slam him against the brick again. “Your own damn daughter!”
“I was desperate!” His voice is high and shakes with a fear that fuels my irritation.
“You’re her dad! You’re all she has, and you steal food from her mouth.” My hand flies, knuckles first, and I backhand the little bitch. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
He spits blood, and his forehead beads with sweat.
“She needed you. Every kid needs their dad.” My heart cramps, and I slam him into the wall again. “You abandoned her. Never looked back, did you?” A lump swells in my throat. “It’s because of you she’s locked up in the hospital all alone.” My nose burns and my legs wobble.
“Let me go—”
“She’s lived her entire life without a family because you weren’t strong enough to take care of her. And now she’s dying and totally alone!” Fuck! I release Eve’s dad and take a few steps back. My eyes prick with emotion.
“Eve’s dying?” he whispers.
Hands on my hips, I breathe deeply. “No. She’s not.” I push both hands through my hair and try to relax.
What the hell just happened there? One second I’m talking to Eve’s dad, and the next minute I’m yelling at an older grayer version of myself.
Am I really all that different from Cass?
A wave of what-the-fuck numbs my legs, and I lean against the wall for support. The answer comes in a torturous trickle of self-realization.
He put his addiction before his daughter, and I put my crusade to regain my career before mine. He’s written her off as if she doesn’t exist and I . . . Fuck. How did things get so fucked up? At what point did I lose focus on what matters?
Whatever shit’s going on in my chest when it comes to Eve is working like a magnifying glass and forcing me to inspect my life.
This isn’t me. I don’t want to be the coward who runs from his problems or the guy who insists on living in the past. I can’t fix what was, but I can fix this for Eve.
“How much will it take?” The words rasp from my lips and Cass jumps, but his eyes spark.
“I don’t under—”
“How much!”
He steps close. “Total? Fifteen grand.”
“How much more will it take for you to leave your daughter alone?”
He opens his mouth to answer then slams it shut. I don’t miss the lack of offense in his expression but not the twitch of excitement in his jaw.
“Don’t fucking act like you don’t have a number going through your head, man. You and I know good and damn well that you do.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Double what I owe.”
Just like that. Pathe
tic.
Disgusted, I reach into my pocket and pull out my card. “Call me. I’ll wire the money first thing tomorrow.”
He snatches the card from my fingers, but I can’t bear to look up to see what I know is going to be the pure delight in this man’s face: the expression of a father who just sold any chance of having a relationship with his daughter for less than it costs to buy a car.
“You’re not messing with me, are you? His voice shakes.
“You take this deal.” I push up to my full height and move in close, tucking my chin to keep his eyes. “She’s dead to you. You get me, motherfucker? I pay you. You back off. Forever. You don’t, and my boys and I will annihilate you.”
“Deal.” He nods frantically and holds out his hand for me to shake.
I glare at his hand. “Get the fuck out of my face.”
He blinks up at me.
“Now!”
His spindly body jerks and he takes off running.
Forty-five grand is a small price to pay to know that Eve will be safe from her father and his lifestyle, but the peace that brings is short-lived when I remember what waits inside the hospital.
I head back into the waiting room and see a doctor approaching Jonah with his hand outstretched in greeting. He’s wearing scrubs along with a matching hat that they use in surgery. His facemask is hanging around his neck, and his eyes are locked on Jonah.
“Mr. Slade.” The doctor shakes Jonah’s hand. “I’m Dr. Kapatia.”
Jonah responds with a stiff nod.
“Let’s have a seat, and I’ll explain how Raven and the baby are doing and answer any questions you might have.”
The heavyweight fighter’s chin drops to his chest, and his shoulders sag as he lets out a long, relieved breath. “They’re alive.”
“Yes, they’re alive and stable.” The doc motions to the seats and sits down, but Jonah stays standing, his arms crossed over his chest, hands tucked into his armpits.
Blake is nearby with a sobbing Layla wrapped up tight in his arms. Rex is a few seats down, elbows on his knees and head hanging low between his shoulders. A few of the other fighters are keeping a safe distance. My stomach churns with anxiety. Stable is good, but it doesn’t mean Raven and the baby are going to make it. At least, not in the way that Jonah might think. Stable means breathing. But the body is a complex machine, and a major trauma could fuck it up enough to turn it into a shell of what it should be.
Fighting the Fall Page 25
