“To wind him up.”
“Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Slept with his sister?” I wanted him to say no.
He turned back to me again and narrowed his eyes. “Are you serious?”
I felt stupid for asking the obvious. From the back of his headrest, I saw Cam look at Jamie, and Jamie rolled his eyes and shook his head slowly at him in response. I heard a light laugh from Cam. Not bothering to continue with that topic, I lay my head back while the guys began talking about the fight again, and I let the motion of the truck lull me back to sleep.
“Lauren?” I knew Jamie’s voice instinctively, and my eyes opened immediately to see him standing with the door open for me.
“I’ve never known someone who sleeps so much.”
Sitting up, I looked out of the truck window and realized we weren’t in the club parking lot, but next to my house, at the corner in fact. “Shit.” I scrambled to get out the door, frightened if we hung around any longer Dad would see.
“Stop.” Jamie put his hand up in front of me. “It’s okay.” He nodded, reassuring me.
I nodded back and climbed out of the truck. Standing in front of him, I looked at his handsome, scuffed face, not quite believing I had actually just gone to watch my first cage fight. “Congratulations again,” I said quickly, wanting to dart inside before Dad heard us.
“What, no hug?”
“Don’t push it.”
He shook his head, smiling, and got back in the truck, where they both waited until I got in my house. Completely exhausted, I headed upstairs to the comfort of my bed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Because of the fight, the weekend was over far too quickly, and school on Monday passed by in a blur. Before I knew it, it was my first shift of the week at the club. Walking down to get some breakfast, I could tell Dad was in a foul mood the minute I saw him. He was standing, waiting for me, arms folded across his chest. Panic surged through me at what he possibly thought I’d done. I hadn’t seen him most of the weekend and apart from after school yesterday, and he seemed okay then. “Morning,” I mumbled. As I reached him, I spotted a piece of paper in his hand, and he wasted no time getting his point across. He hit me hard across my face. “What, Dad?” I yelled out in pain, cowering in case he did it again. I was frightened he’d found out about Texas. He opened the screwed up letter and held it out in front of me so I could see it. Reading what it said, I soon became aware that I’d forgotten to pay the rent for two months.
“Two fucking months, you stupid, useless bitch.”
I couldn’t believe what I’d done. Usually, I was on top of our finances. He went to hit me again, but I blocked his fist with my arm. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll sort it,” I pleaded.
“Where the hell has the money gone? Is that why you’ve been out so much, spending it all?” His fist pummeled into my side, something he hadn’t done in ages.
I dropped to the floor, winded. “Stop it, Dad, or I’ll call the police. Don’t think I won’t, because I will. I’ve had enough,” I threatened, tired of his constant abuse.
He stayed silent and slowly walked toward me. I flinched as his hand went to my head and he curled his fingers around my hair, jerking me back hard so I was forced to look up at him. “Don’t threaten me!” he growled through gritted teeth. His eyes were glazed and he stunk of alcohol, but I didn’t tear my eyes away from his. I meant it this time. We glared at each other for what felt like an eternity, and then he released his grip on me and walked away muttering to himself. Shaking, I quickly stood up and went upstairs to my room, pushing the dresser across my door. How had I forgotten to pay the rent? I think I’d just been so busy lately with school and work it had just slipped my mind. Usually, I was on top of everything.
I pulled up my top and looked down to my left side, where there was a huge red mark with purple edges forming around it. It hurt like hell when I breathed. I hated him, absolutely hated him! It was making me all the more determined to leave. Examining my face in the mirror, I saw that was red too. I pulled out my makeup to see what I could cover in the shortest amount of time possible. I had to be at work in twenty minutes. Changing into my work T-shirt was painful, especially lifting my arms up to pull it over my head. It felt like he’d broken a rib, but there was not much I could do about it now. I didn’t want to be late. I grabbed my purse and shoved my dresser back across the floor, wincing. I felt like crying, but I wasn’t going to let myself be weak.
Slamming the front door shut behind me, I took a deep breath and tried to embrace the freeing feeling that I got whenever I left the house, but my mood hung over me like a dark cloud. I hated feeling sorry for myself. What good would it do? It wouldn’t change anything. By the time I’d walked to the end of the street, tears were freely rolling down my cheeks. I despised crying. I never cried; it was something I had trained myself not to do. If I cried, I knew I was weak and that he was breaking me. Wiping it away, I composed myself. I didn’t want anyone at the club figuring out something was up. It was the last thing I needed.
Pushing the club door open, Jamie was standing at the front desk talking with Kal, who was sitting at the computer. They both turned in my direction as I made my way over.
“Morning,” Kal greeted cheerily.
“Morning,” I replied. I made eye contact with them both, although I desperately wanted to avoid it in case they could see I’d been crying. Jamie’s eyes stayed on me, but he didn’t say anything. He remained silent, and I felt his stare as I walked to my locker. I wondered what I’d done for him to ignore me. I wasn’t in the mood for guessing. I opened up my locker and put my purse inside then straightened my top I hadn’t bothered to iron.
“Everything all right, Lauren?” Kal asked, moving into the room.
“Yeah.” I nodded confidently.
He eyed me cautiously. “You don’t look so good.”
Well, that’s because I’ve just had a beating from my Dad, I wanted to say. I hated that he knew there was something wrong with me, but I didn’t want to talk about it. I was going to tell him it was that time of the month so he’d back off, but I thought better of it.
Jamie followed him and stood in the doorway, placing both hands on top of the doorframe. He looked concerned about me too. “Someone upset you?”
“No.” I shook my head, getting annoyed. I wondered whether Jamie would figure out what was wrong. He didn’t know Dad hit me, but he knew what he was like.
“Are you sure, love?” Kal asked again.
“I’m fine, Kal, honestly,” I assured him, trying to keep my tone in check. I thought the male species was supposed to be completely oblivious to female emotions. Tired of their probing, I walked toward the door, but Jamie didn’t budge an inch, and I felt like he was trapping me in the room, forcing me to confess. “Move, Jamie,” I said harshly, standing in front of him. I kept my focus on his chest, avoiding looking at his eyes. I was scared he would see right through me.
“Tell me what’s wrong. I’m not gonna move until you say something,” he said authoritatively.
“Jay,” Kal warned.
This made me furious. Who the hell did he think he was? “Move away now!” I yelled to his chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him look over at Kal, almost like he was waiting for him to agree that he should let me out. That sent me over the edge, and before I could let sense take over, I curled my fist and punched him in his stomach.
He released his grip on the doorframe. “What the fuck?” he growled, rubbing where I had hit him.
“I told you to move.” I glared at him, and his eyes instantly went to the mark on my face. He blinked a few times then his look softened. Only, I didn’t need to see that look, so I shoved past him and sat down at the desk before I started crying again. Guilt consumed me. Why had I just hit Jamie? Putting my head in my hands, I tried to breathe through this horrible feeling swirling in my chest. I wanted to leave. I wanted to be anywhere but here. I needed to go and find
Taylor, or go to a bar and drink myself into oblivion. I hated who I had become.
Trying to distract myself, I started checking through the emails to see what was going on and what I needed to know about. I realized shortly after starting the job that email was the one place I would find out about all the information I needed to be aware of for upcoming events at the club. Kal was usually so busy he often forgot to tell me things, or if he did manage to tell me something important, it was always the day before. But I couldn’t concentrate on the emails. My mind was still very much on Jamie.
Both of them stayed in the back room for about five minutes. All the while, I could hear them whispering like children, although thankfully I couldn’t hear what they were saying or planning to do with me. I was worried I was going to get fired. When they finally did come out, Kal went straight over to the shake bar and began to clean it, not speaking a word to me. Then Jamie walked right past me and went over to the weights. He also didn’t look at or speak to me, and that killed me. He was the last person I’d ever want to hurt. My chest started to tighten, and the full realization of what I had just done to him hit me hard. I had punched him when all he did was try to find out why I was looking like something was wrong. Even if he did go about it the wrong way, he didn’t deserve to be hit.
Putting my head back in my hands, I took deep breaths as the urge to vomit started to overwhelm me. Bile rose up in my throat and I ran to the bathroom, emptying my stomach into the toilet. My whole body shook and ached, and I hated that it was doing it here. I hated that it was doing it because of him, that evil excuse of a father. He was ruining my life, and now I was turning out like him, using violence in anger. Tears filled my eyes, but I held them in their place at the brim of my lids and squeezed them shut, hoping they would go away. I sat on the bathroom floor, lay my head back against the cool tiled wall of the cubicle, and closed my eyes. After a few minutes, I heard the bathroom door open. I stayed still and listened silently to the footsteps, wondering who it was. It was a private bathroom, and there was no other female employee. The footsteps stopped at my cubicle door, and a shaky hand slid a cup of water underneath. I recognized it as Kal’s. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“Take all the time you need, sweetheart,” he said sympathetically.
His compassion laced me with guilt. What was I supposed to say to him? I could never tell him the truth or just pass it off as a bad day. I stayed in the bathroom for a little while until I could face coming back out. I drank some of the water he gave me and started pulling myself back together. Opening the cubicle door, I walked to the sinks, and my pale reflection grimly stared back at me. The redness on my face had subsided a little more, but my eyes were now bloodshot.
With my thumb, I wiped away the smears of mascara from under them, where they’d stung when I was throwing up. Grabbing some makeup from my locker, I freshened up my face so I wouldn’t scare the customers with my scary appearance, then popped some gum into my mouth to get rid of the sick taste that was left.
Gathering courage, I headed back out to the desk. Nervously, I looked around. I couldn’t see Kal, although I spotted Jamie in the cage, sparring with Leon. Seeing him made my chest constrict again. He really didn’t deserve that. I needed to find a way to apologize, if he’d ever speak to me again. Sitting down at the desk, I found myself just staring at the computer screen. I didn’t have it in me to do any work.
When customers started to go over to the shake bar, I forced myself off my chair and numbly went about fixing their orders. When Cam and Marc came over, I felt wary of them and wondered if Jamie had told them what happened. I made their shakes while they waited, and they made idle chitchat with me and didn’t act any differently than they would have any other time, which put my mind at ease a little. Either that or they too could carry off the best poker faces. They thanked me and shouted to Jamie and Leon that they were taking their break.
I restocked the shake bar then sat back at the desk again to stare at my screen. I lifted my eyes when Jamie sheepishly came over. He crossed his forearms on the desktop and lay his chin on the back of his hands. His gorgeous brown eyes were level with mine, and guilt consumed me again. I couldn’t look at him for too long.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” He lowered his lids as he waited intently for my reply.
“No. I’m sorry I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that,” I said quietly, lowering my gaze away from him.
“Don’t sweat it. I deserved it.” He shrugged then stood up straight and ran his hand over his short hair, pausing for a second. “Do you wanna do some training with me?”
“What…now?” I asked, surprised he would ask me during my shift while Kal was around.
He nodded.
“What about Kal?”
“He left.”
“But I’m working, and my shift ends in thirty minutes.”
“It’s okay. Whoever calls will ring back, you know.”
He was right, but I didn’t know if I was in the mood to train. Plus, my side was still sore. I knew it would release my pent up anger in an appropriate way, and I knew that was his reason for asking me, but I really didn’t want to, and I didn’t understand why he was offering when I did what I did to him. “I can’t leave the desk.” My mind again turned to Kal. He would be pissed if he walked in and no one was manning the desk or the phone, and I was in the cage with Jamie. He was angry last time I trained with him.
“C’mon.” He nodded to the cage.
I knew I wasn’t going to win, so I reluctantly stood up and followed him, wary of the customers being able to watch what we were doing. Thankfully, they were engrossed in their own workouts. He walked to the shelves near the punching bag and picked up two pairs of gloves. I rolled my eyes. How ironic we were going to box.
“Seeing as you like hitting.” He raised the gloves up, smirking.
I shook my head at him. I really wasn’t in the mood for playfulness and jokes. He walked off into the cage and I followed him. He stood in the middle of it and watched me as I walked toward him. I rubbed my fingers together nervously and wondered why he was even bothering being nice to me. Then a dark thought entered my mind. Was he going to take his frustration out on me? I quickly pushed that thought aside, because I knew Jamie; he would never do anything to hurt me. I hoped.
He set the gloves down on the floor. “Show me how you make a fist.”
I really didn’t want to. I’d hit him with my fist, and I felt so ashamed of myself.
“C’mon,” he encouraged, sensing my reluctance.
I made a fist with my right hand and held it up to show him, keeping my head low.
“Here,” he said softly, taking hold of my hand and untucking my thumb. His touch sent shivers through me. “Relax your hand and show me again.”
I did as he said and made a fist the way he’d shown me.
“Good,” he praised. He stared at me for a few seconds then sighed loudly and lifted up his T-shirt to reveal his sculpted stomach. “Look, you didn’t leave a mark, okay?” As he said that, he looked at the fading mark on my face again. I suddenly didn’t know where to look, and I felt myself blushing. I couldn’t believe I was standing here with him lifting up his T-shirt to me. He was right, though. There was no mark where I’d hit him. But I did notice marks and scrapes across his body that were still there from his fight. He let his shirt fall back down. “Now, to throw a punch, your fist should stay this way, up.”
He demonstrated then went into the mechanics of throwing a punch. Reaching down, he picked up the set of gloves and asked me to hold out my hands. One by one, he put them on, strapping them tightly around my wrists. He picked up the sparring pads and put them on. Holding them at either side of his head, he asked me to hit out at them in a sequence. I knew there was no way I would be able to accurately throw punches to those pads and not hit him in the face.
“I don’t want to hit you by accident.” I couldn’t bare it if I hurt him again, accident or not.
“T
rust yourself and focus,” he said confidently. Trying to use some of his confidence, I began to throw alternating punches slowly, wary of his face. I was also conscious of the big bruise on my side hurting every time I lifted my left arm up or twisted. His focus shifted from my eyes to my fists. “Faster.” I threw punches with a bit more speed and I focused on the pads rather than missing his head, and soon, the feeling of release was great. “C’mon, you’re hitting like a girl,” he shouted gruffly. So I threw punches harder and faster until I couldn’t punch anymore because of my side. I clutched at it, wincing. “You okay?” he asked, looking down to where I was holding myself.
“Yeah.” I nodded breathlessly.
“It’s probably a stitch.” He gave me a minute to get over the “stitch”, and then he wanted me to punch the pads using an upper cut, which involved me twisting at the waist. I tried doing it, but it hurt my side too much, so I gave up. I was exhausted and felt hot and sweaty, and I was pretty sure I looked a damn mess. He walked out to get us both a drink and when he returned, I gulped mine down while he sipped his and shook his head disapprovingly. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement at my desk and snapped my head around to see Marc sitting in my chair. I instantly felt awful he was covering the desk and not training.
Jamie followed my gaze. “He’s fine. C’mon, last part now.” He took his pads off, then mine and tossed them to the side, and I saw him glance toward the club entrance then back to me. He moved a few yards back and stood with his feet apart, beckoning me. “Take me down.”
I let out a frustrated groan. Although he looked extremely hot standing there, gesturing me towards him, I knew it was a lost cause. I couldn’t take him down; I wasn’t strong enough, and it frustrated me that he kept on asking. I wanted the training over. My side was getting worse the more we did it.
“C’mon.” He lifted his arms out a little.
Not wanting to draw attention to where I hurt, I tried to remember what he taught me last time: hooking my ankle around the back of his and swinging him back and down. I walked up to him, and he watched me with humor in his eyes. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I gave a pathetic pull, and obviously he didn’t budge.
Reckless Retribution (West Warriors Book 1) Page 12
