Ryley's Revenge

by L. P. Dover

  Ryley beamed and took the pictures from Christine, holding onto them like they were the most fragile thing he would ever hold in his hands.

  And I just laid there, speechless.

  “I’m going to write up my notes and I’ll meet you both out front once you catch your breath. I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am about this.” She hugged Ryley and squeezed my arm before leaving us to ourselves. We both sat staring at the ultrasound pictures in shock.

  “I can’t believe this,” I whispered. “I get my boy.”

  “And I get my girl,” he finished. “Hopefully, she’ll look like her mother.”

  Looking at the picture of our boy, I laughed and held it over my heart. “Is it bad that I’m scared our boy will look like you? He’ll be one good-looking heartbreaker when he gets older. I feel sorry for the girls already. Although, none of them will ever be good enough for my little man.”

  Ryley put his arm around me and helped me off of the table. “I wouldn’t worry too much about him. If he takes after me, it won’t be so bad. I mean, I found you, right? That at least counts for something. Our girl, on the other hand, is going to hate me when she starts dating. Maybe I should invest in some rifles?”

  “You have a long time before that’s necessary,” I teased.

  “Let’s hope so. Now all we need to do is come up with names.”

  “I want our girl to have Gabriella as a middle name. She’s the reason we met and she’s my best friend. I think she’ll like that. Besides, she’ll basically be their aunt anyway.”

  Ryley nodded, but then his lip turned up in a sad smile. “I don’t see a problem with that, just as long as you let our son have my father’s name as his middle.”

  “What is it? I don’t think you ever told me.” I never wanted to bring up the topic of his father since it was such a sore subject. I couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be to have one of your parents die in your arms.

  “Alexander,” he answered softly.

  “Alexander,” I repeated. “I like that. Now all we need are first names. I think Ethan would be a great name for a boy. Ethan Alexander Jameson. What do you think about that?”

  Ryley pursed his lips, furrowing his brows. “That sounds good. Just as long as you let me pick our daughter’s name.”

  “Oh, hell. I don’t know if I like the sound of that. I’m afraid of what you’ll come up with.”

  “I think I have it,” Ryley murmured. It was late and I could barely keep my eyes open, but I turned in the bed and faced him. His crystal gaze shone bright and full of life as he stared down at me.

  “What are you talking about?” I mumbled, snuggling into his chest.

  “I figured out our daughter’s name. I’ve been thinking about it all day and it finally clicked into place.”

  “Oh yeah?” I smiled. “What did you come up with?”

  Lowering his hand to my bare stomach, he bent down and kissed the swell of my belly, speaking against my skin. “Emma.”

  “Emma,” I said aloud, trying it out. “It’s beautiful. What made you think of it?”

  Keeping his hand on my belly, he smiled. “The name Emma means whole. I wouldn’t be complete without her, or you, or Ethan. All of us together are what makes me who I am. I would be nothing without you.”

  Bringing his hand to my face, I held it on my cheek and leaned into it. “I feel the same way. And I know Emma and Ethan feel the same way too. They won’t stop kicking me. I guess they’re going to take after their daddy.”

  They were still small, but their little fists and feet were giving my insides a workout. Ryley sat up on his elbow and chuckled each time my stomach would flutter. “They’re going to take after us both, angel. I just hope they can handle a father like me.”

  “They’re strong,” I said. “I’m pretty sure they can handle anything. They’re Jameson’s, what do you expect?”

  He looked up at me, full of love. “And soon you will be too. I can’t wait for the day I can call you my wife.”

  Me too. Soon . . .

  FOR THE PAST week, Paxton had given me time to adjust to my life without Ashleigh by my side. She was gone to her cabin in the mountains, living the dream life. I was happy for her and Ryley, but I sure as hell was going to miss her. I had a feeling I knew what Paxton’s terms were going to be anyway. Maybe he’ll forget about me this week. Fat chance on that.

  When the knock sounded on my door, there were two options. It was either going to be Bradley or Paxton. For the past week, I had basically thrown Bradley to the side, and I could feel the hole growing bigger between us. Every time I was busy, I was with my fighters and he didn’t like it. We spent more time angry at each other than actually civilized. However, when I opened the door, it wasn’t Bradley. It was a tattooed fighter wearing fuck me jeans and a tight black T-shirt. Walk away, Gabby.

  “So we meet again,” he said simply. For a moment, his sea green eyes flustered me like they did every time I saw him. This time, I couldn’t let that happen.

  Throwing open the door, I rolled my eyes and ventured back into my living room. He was going to come in anyway, there was no reason to stop him. “It appears so,” I grumbled. “You know, I was kind of wishing you’d forget about me. I guess the hundred pennies I threw in that well didn’t work.”

  The door shut and I could hear him chuckle. “Sorry, love. No wish is going to get you out of our agreement. I gave you a week of freedom, but now your time’s up. You’re not thinking of backing out are you?”

  Instead of sitting beside me on the couch, he sat in the chair across from me, his gaze boring straight into mine. “No. I made a promise and I’m going to keep it. I always keep my promises.”

  “And the same goes for me,” he murmured, voice smooth and deep. “Now, how ‘bout we get down to business?” My heart sped up at the thought and a small smirk splayed across his lips.

  “Fine,” I answered, clearing my throat. “I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  The deep chuckle in his chest rumbled all the way down to my clit. “Oh, we’ll see about that, sunshine. First, I need to know. What’s the status with you and the douche bag baseball player?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “It is now, considering for the next month you’re going to be with me and me only. You’re going to have to get rid of him.”

  My eyes went wide. “Are you serious? What am I supposed to tell him?”

  Nonchalantly, he shrugged. “I don’t give a shit what you tell him, as long as he knows to stay away from you. If he so much as causes a problem, I’m going to extend the month.”

  “Don’t you think this is a bit extreme? Wouldn’t a week suffice?”

  His expression grew serious. “You obviously have no idea how far I put my neck on the line for you. I think a month is being very generous.”

  After experiencing life in the Dark Side, I knew it was a scary place. Those people wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet in my head. In fact, I’d say their humanity was long gone . . . just like Camden’s.

  “Okay, fine,” I gave in. “A month it is. You don’t expect me to fuck you do you? That shit’s not going to happen.”

  Paxton tilted his head back and roared in laughter. “Oh, Gabby, as much as I’d love to have you spread out for my delight, I would never ask that of you. But if you wanted it, I’d be happy to oblige.”

  I scoffed. “Well, that’s not going to happen. When does all of this start?”

  “Tomorrow,” he noted, getting to his feet. “I trust you’ll handle everything with your boyfriend today?”

  I stared at him in hopes that he’d smile and tell me it was all a joke. Sadly, I didn’t get that. “Yes,” I sighed. “I’ll talk to him.”

  He strolled to the door and I followed to make sure the door shut behind him. Paxton opened it wide and stopped. His back was to me, but then he turned around, piercing me with his green eyes. “Good,
then we won’t have any problems. If he really wants you, he’ll wait for you.” He stepped closer and circled a strand of my midnight hair through his fingers, his voice dipping lower. “It won’t matter though. I know you won’t go back to him after I get done with you.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Paxton. That’s not going to happen either,” I said, glaring at him.

  “Oh, it wasn’t a wish,” he clarified. “It was a promise. And as you know, I never go back on my word.” Smirking one last time, he winked and disappeared out the door, his footsteps calm and collected as he descended the stairs.

  Growling in frustration, I slammed the door and stormed back over to the couch. Fuck him with twelve giant cocks. He didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. I was going to make damn sure that promise was a promise he couldn’t keep. What an arrogant prick.

  Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the couch and sighed. Only one more day of freedom. How was I going to spend it? The answer came with a text.

  Bradley: I need to talk to you. Can I come over?

  Here we go. If there was ever a time we should split up, it would be now. There was no way he was going to put up with me being with another man for the next month.

  Me: Sure. I have lots to tell you too.

  And none of it was good.

  Acknowledgments

  THIS IS TO my family, friends, readers, bloggers, and future readers. Without you, I would be nothing . . . because without you, I wouldn’t have anyone to share my stories with. Thank you for all of your support and I will always and forever be grateful for you. I hope you enjoy the Gloves Off fighters just as much as I do.

  About the Author

  NEW YORK TIMES and USA Today Bestselling author, L.P. Dover, is a southern belle residing in North Carolina along with her husband and two beautiful girls. Before she even began her literary journey she worked in Periodontics enjoying the wonderment of dental surgeries.

  Not only does she love to write, but she loves to play tennis, go on mountain hikes, white water rafting, and you can't forget the passion for singing. Her two number one fans expect a concert each and every night before bedtime and those songs usually consist of Christmas carols.

  Aside from being a wife and mother, L.P. Dover has written over nine novels including her Forever Fae series, the Second Chances series, and her standalone novel, Love, Lies, and Deception. Her favorite genre to read is romantic suspense and she also loves writing it. However, if she had to choose a setting to live in it would have to be with her faeries in the Land of the Fae.

  L.P. Dover is represented by Marisa Corvisiero of Corvisiero Literary Agency.

  OTHER BOOKS BY L.P. DOVER

  Forever Fae Series

  Second Chances Standalones

  Standalone (Romantic Suspense)

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  Forever My Girl

  The Beaumont Series #1

  By Heidi McLaughlin

  I was never supposed to be a rock star. I had my life all planned out for me. Play football in college. Go to the NFL. Marry my high school sweetheart and live happily ever after.

  I broke both our hearts that day when I told her I was leaving. I was young. I made the right decision for me, but the wrong decision for us. I’ve poured my soul into my music, but I’ve never forgotten her. Her smell, her smile.

  And now I’m going back.

  After ten years.

  I hope I can explain that after all this time.

  I still want her to be my forever girl.

  CHAPTER 1

  LIAM

  A light snore reminds me that I’m not alone. The heaviness of a body sprawled out, sets me off immediately. The stale smell of day old perfume lingers in the air and on my sheets.

  The curtains are pulled back, the sun shining through the large window which affords me the best view and privacy.

  Rolling over, there’s a face I don’t remember. A face that holds no name in my recollection or any vivid memory of how she ended up in my hotel room let alone my bed.

  The bed part I can probably figure out.

  The blonde hair tells me that I didn’t bother to get her name or ask her what her favorite drink was. Guaranteed our conversation was eyes, hands and lips only. There is one hair color that can make my heart beat and blonde isn’t it.

  Neither is red.

  Eyes too.

  Never blue.

  They have to be brown or green, never blue.

  This isn’t a downward spiral or some drug induced moment. I don’t do drugs, never have, but I may drink excessively on occasions like last night. This is me coping with my mistakes and failures. I may be successful when I’m on stage, but at night I’m alone.

  And so freaking scared of dying alone.

  I reach for my phone to check the time. Instead I pull up the gallery that holds her image, my thumb hovering over her face. I’ll see her when I go home and I don’t know what I’ll say.

  I know she hates me.

  I hate me.

  I ruined her life. That is what her voice message said. The one I’ve saved for the past ten years. The one I’ve transferred from phone to phone just so I could hear her voice when I’m at my lowest. I can recite every hateful word she said to me when I was too busy to answer and never found the time to call her back.

  Never found one second to call and explain to her what I had done to us. She was my best friend and I let her slip through my fingers just to save myself from the heartache of hearing she didn’t want me anymore.

  I had dreams too.

  And my dreams included her, but she would never have gone for it. I’m not living her American Dream. I'm living my own.

  My decision destroyed everything.

  My nameless bed cohabitant reaches out and strokes my arm. I move away quickly. Now that I’m sober, I have no desire to be anything to this person.

  “Liam,” she says through her seductive tone that sounds like a baby. It makes my skin crawl when women talk like this. Don’t they see that it makes them sound ridiculous? No man worth his nuts likes this sort of thing. It’s not sexy.

  Wrapping the sheet around my waist I sit up and swing my legs over the edge, away from her and her wandering hand. My back tenses when I feel the bed shift. Standing, I pull the sheet tighter to keep myself somewhat covered. I shouldn’t care, but I do. She’s seen me in the dark, but I’m not affording her or her camera another look.

  “I’m busy.” My voice is strict, a well-practiced monotone. “Jorge, the concierge, will make sure you get a cab home.”

  I sleep purposefully facing the bathroom so I never have to look at them when I tell them to leave. It’s easier that way, no emotions. I don’t have to look at their faces and see the hope fade. Each one hopes they will be the one to tame me, to make me commit.

  I haven’t had a steady girlfriend since I entered the industry and a one night stand isn’t about to change that. These gi
rls don’t mean anything and never will. I could change. I could settle down and marry.

  Have a kid or two.

  But why?

  My manager, Sam, would love it, especially if it was her. She’s my only repeat lay. The first time was an error in judgment, a lonely night on the road mistake. Now she wants more. I don’t.

  When she told me she was pregnant I wanted to jump off a cliff. I didn’t want kids, at least not with her. When I think about having a wife, she’s tall and brunette. She’s toned from years of cheerleading and her daily five-mile run. She’s not a power hungry executive in the music industry who spoke of hiring nannies before a doctor could confirm her pregnancy.

  She suggested marriage; I freaked and flew to Australia to learn to surf.

  She miscarried two months in. I made a vow that we’d keep things professional from that point on and that is when I started my one night stand routine. Despite everything, she still loves me, and is waiting for me to change my mind.

  “You know,” the barfly from last night starts to say in between shuffling and her huffed breathing as she puts on her clothes. “I heard you were a dick, but I didn’t believe it. I thought we had something special.”

  I laugh and shake my head. I’ve heard it all, each one thinks we have something special because of the most amazing night they’ve ever had.

  “I didn’t pick you for your brains.” I walk into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it for good measure.

  Leaning against the door I bang my head against the solid wood. Each time I tell myself I’m going to stop, and I think I have until something makes me want to forget. My hands rake over my face in pure frustration.