Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2)

by Jennifer Ann

  The next two days are pretty much the same. Early run, taxi to the gym, work my ass off until I’m too exhausted to stand upright. Manny isn’t there the second day, but I find a bigger guy to spar with who’s more my speed and able to get a few good hits in.

  Hunter has been good about keeping me up to date on the FBI’s involvement, and one of the agents on the case called the day before with more questions about the night I found Dad. I’ve never felt so fucking frustrated in my life, waiting as they try to find a suspect. Spending every waking hour focused on improving my technique and going at it until I’m hardly able to stand only partially works in keeping my mind off the bullshit back home.

  A few texts from Hope inviting me out and offering to stop by go unreturned. I’m not interested in adding the complication of a woman into my life. If I were, I’d be doing whatever it took to include Sharlo. But since she hasn’t made an attempt to contact me through Evelyn, I wonder if she’s given up on us.

  My fourth night in the city, I’m stripped down to my boxers and ready to call it a night around nine. Since immersing myself in the boxing world, I’ve been able to forget about Sharlo for the most part, but I was aware on a subconscious level that she’d be flying to LA to meet up with Evelyn sometime today. And more than likely she’s dressed up in her original way for the concert, shaking her sweet little ass to the music. I can picture her with those big blue eyes closed, head tilted back, hands in the air, a smile spread across her soft lips. The thought has me restless and agitated, making it harder to sleep once I’ve slipped into bed.

  Hours later I slip down in the darkness to the kitchen for a glass of water. I flip on the TV in the living room and sink into one of the leather couches, hoping to bore myself to sleep. A handful of minutes pass before there’s a series of knocks pounding on the front door.

  It isn’t all that surprising to find Hope on the front step, but the way she sways on her feet catches me off guard. Dressed in a pair of cut off shorts and a sparkling top, hair curled and makeup heavy, it’s safe to guess she spent the night out on the town. Her bright green eyes freeze on my bare chest.

  “Oh, m’ god!” she slurs, nearly falling to the side. “Congratu-lations!”

  I reach out to grab her arm. “You're drunk.”

  “Yes, I’m drunk,” she says with a nasally laugh. “Took a little detour on m’ way home. Figured I’d stop to see if your sexy ass wanted some company. Evelyn made me promise you’d be well taken care of. Wouldn’t wanna be a bad friend.”

  “Christ,” I growl to myself. My eyes sweep over the empty street, pissed as hell that she’d walk alone at this hour while tanked. Don’t her fucking friends care if she made it home? I swear not a single woman I’ve met knows how to look out for themselves. Hope doesn’t seem to be an exception. “Get in here,” I bark, pulling her inside with me.

  She trips over the threshold and giggles, falling into my chest. The sour odor of booze and her citrus perfume burn my nose. Her warm fingers spread across my stomach muscles and she makes a little purring noise. I’m annoyed, but what do you know, my dick stirs with her touch. There’s no denying she’s especially hot when all dressed up, but I don’t let my mind wander any further. No way I’m doing anything with this girl whether she’s plowed or otherwise.

  A soft hum falls from her lips. “Damn, you’re massive.”

  “You can’t wander around by yourself when you’re like this,” I scold, prying her off me. “Do you have a boyfriend or someone who can come get you?”

  “I’m single and all the people in m’ life are probably still at the bar,” she says, drawing her glossy eyes up to meet mine. She hiccups among a giggle. “Looks like it’s just you ’n' me.”

  “You need something in your stomach.” I pull her over to the island and help her onto a stool, moving it at an angle. With any luck she won’t fall over. After handing her a bottle of water, I grab the carton of eggs and sleeve of bacon left from my shopping trip the other day and fire up my sister’s industrial stovetop.

  “Of course you can cook,” Hope mumbles behind me. “Do you know how hard it is to find a guy around here who doesn’t want anything more than a little wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am? Should’ve known Evelyn’s brother would be a nice guy. I mean she told me you box and work your ass off on the farm. But the cooking thing? You’re unreal. Half the guys I know are hooked on video games an’ think cereal’s considered a meal. Why is it so hard to find someone who’s grown up and ready for commitment beyond the fuckin’ weekend?”

  Good question. I throw the bacon into a cast iron skillet and crack an egg into a bowl, shaking my head. “Don’t know. You’re not going to find the kind of guy you're looking for when drunk in a bar. That makes you a prime target for assholes.”

  “Where do you suggest I look? In a boxin’ ring?”

  I turn to glance at her over my shoulder. “You suggesting something?”

  “Maybe. And maybe I shouldn’t have had that last Long Island, but getting smashed seems to be the only way I can find the courage to do this kind of thing.” She wraps a hand in her long blond hair and grins while batting her lashes. It’s flirty and cute as hell. “What do you say, big guy? Care to take a girl out for a night on the town?”

  Moving over to the island, I set both hands on the counter before looking her in the eye. She may not remember the conversation in the morning, but I don’t want her to get the wrong idea and I’m not going to be a dick about it. “You seem like a good person and I appreciate the offer, but I’m only in the city for a short while. I’m not interested in a short-term fling with one of my sister’s friends.”

  She leans in toward me, pierced eyebrow cocked. “Who said it’d have to be short term?”

  “I’ll be back in Minnesota by the end of the month.”

  “Plans change, James. People change. When there’s somethin’ worth fightin’ for, we evolve for each other. No couple starts out as a perfect match. Sacrifices are made, lives are rearranged. It’s in our nature to pair off.”

  My eyebrows draw together. “You always get this deep when you’re drunk?”

  “Prob’ly. It’s easier to speak the truth after a few shots.”

  Looking down to the floor, my back stiffens. What if she’s right? Hell, she could be perfect for me. I’ll never know unless I give her a chance. Same could be said for Sharlo, and she’ll be back in town by tomorrow night. Then again, the radio silence from Sharlo might be a sign that it’s time to move on.

  “I’m in a shit-poor place to be dating,” I finally admit, meeting her hopeful gaze once again. “I’m not going to pretend I’m up for this when my head’s not in the right place. I’m here to train. I couldn’t give you the kind of attention you deserve. I’m at the gym all day and ready to crash at night.” When a slight frown pulls at her lips, I fold my arms over my chest and tilt my chin. “You’re a fun, beautiful woman with an impressive job. I’m sure it won't be long before you come across someone who’s good for you.”

  Before catching her reaction, I turn back to flip the bacon and put the eggs in a pan. With any luck she’ll understand where I’m coming from and not see me as an asshole who refuses to date. The reasons sounded lame to my own ears, but I’m not ready to admit to her or anyone that I’m holding out for someone else.

  “One drink at Leona’s, t’morrow night,” she pleads. “My treat. We don't even have to call it a date. We can say it’s the start of a friendship. I’ll slug you on the shoulder a time or two if it’ll make you feel more comfortable, like you’re hangin’ out with one of the guys.”

  I turn back to her, shaking my head. “You’re also persistent.”

  “Damn right. How’d you think I got hired to manage one of the hottest joints in the city?”

  She doesn’t say anything more about the subject as I finish cooking and serve her the late night meal on one of Evelyn’s square plates. Instead she tells me stories of Evelyn and Charlie’s first dates while she cleans her plate. Befo
re long, her eyes grow heavy. I make her drink the last of the bottled water, then lead her up to the guest bed. She removes her strappy sandals before I tuck her under the blanket, fully clothed.

  “One day you’ll make the world’s best husband—prob’ly a daddy too,” she says with a hum, eyes closed. “Whatever chick you decide to settle down with will be one lucky bitch.”

  My gut roils with unease. Until she said “daddy” I had forgotten all about not using protection with Sharlo. Christ, I really need to have a talk with her. Whether or not I decide to see where this thing between us goes, I have to know if I’m going to be a father.

  “I’ll be gone by the time you wake, so let yourself out,” I tell Hope, gathering a set of gym clothes for in the morning. By the time I turn off the lights, I can hear her light snores.

  I take watch on my sister’s couch downstairs in case Hope decides to wander off later. It’s almost impossible to fall asleep knowing it won’t be long before I’ll be face-to-face with Sharlo again.

  Chapter 8

  SHARLO

  I’ll always have a bit of a soft spot for the endless beauty of California, but it will never compare to the warmth that fills me when the familiar sights of Brooklyn Heights come into view. The closer the private car gets to home, however, anxiety begins to claw its way up my throat. Upon graduating from NYU, I moved straightaway into the converted church flat with my then-boyfriend, and for a time it seemed where I belonged. Something about the unique feel of the modern decor mixed in with the old world charm of wood and iron had always called to me, made me at ease. The desire to live elsewhere didn’t arise until that nutter reporter stormed in with a gun and kidnapped Evelyn in an attempt to get Charlie’s attention.

  After setting my luggage by the island, I sort through the mail to find the usual bills. As I pour myself a glass of water, I see an envelope without a return address that must’ve slipped from the pile. It’s lodged between the foot of a stool, near the same spot where I was knocked unconscious.

  A great shudder runs down my back with the memory of the reporter holding a gun to my head. Evelyn refuses to talk about that night, saying it’s too painful to remember how she had to shoot the woman, and I don’t dare mention the fact that I no longer wish to live here as she’ll undoubtedly feel as if it’s her fault. Accordingly, I’ve been doing overtime with the therapist I’ve been seeing since Richard first cheated on me.

  As a little girl, I was once the unfortunate recipient of a robbery gone bad in Oakland. The bloke was desperate not to go back to prison and grabbed me, holding a pistol to my head as the policemen arrived. Many sleepless nights were to follow until a child psychologist was able to convince me that I was safe, and the man was not coming back for me.

  With a sigh, I retrieve the envelope from the floor. It would seem someone wrote my name and address in a hurry as it’s barely legible. Ripping the envelope open, I find a small piece of paper with an odd sentence scrawled in black ink.

  Not everyone gets everything they want.

  “That’s rude,” I say to the empty room. Throwing the note to the counter, I don’t give it any more thought. The city is filled with nutters, though I can’t imagine why one would take the time to seek out my name and address specifically. Perhaps I should be more concerned after all.

  Then it’s as if the clouds have parted after a brutal storm when I remember James is somewhere nearby. I haven’t the faintest idea what to expect once we’re reunited, but a girl can dream—especially with the aid of a 3” vibrating mate.

  After showering and running a blowdryer through my hair, it seems nothing in my closet is sufficient for a visit to James. Eventually I’m able to whip together a little something using a blouse I created for our upcoming line that Katie sewed with a pair of lace-covered shorts. It’s feminine and flirty, matching the mood I’m in. By the time I’m standing on Evelyn and Charlie’s stoop, I’m more nervous than a stoner who’s been handed a drug-test and nearly dash off before the door creaks open.

  “Hope?” I nearly choke on her name when seeing her with a towel wrapped around her naked body, blond hair hanging wet around her shoulders. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Ev asked me to check on James, so I came by last night,” she answers, leaning up against the doorframe and cocking one leg. “He left for the gym early this morning.” A small, wicked grin stretches her lips. “That man is one tall drink of water.”

  “If big and brooding is your type, then I suppose he is,” I agree, hoping the words don’t come out as surly as they feel. A surge of envy swells inside my chest, making it difficult to properly breathe. Apparently our short-lived affair didn’t mean anything to James, though I suppose that’s really all it was ever meant to be. “I wanted to pop in to grab some designs off Evelyn’s laptop. Won’t take but a minute.”

  When she opens the door, the lie sinks into my gut. I’m not about to let on to someone I consider a mate that I’m an unflattering shade of green with envy all because she shagged someone I thought I had unrequited feelings for. That kind of thing will have to wait until I’m back in my flat behind closed doors, able to make a spectacle of myself in private.

  I’m not normally the type to mope around, but whenever I recall visions of Hope standing in the doorway, it feels as if something inside of me will implode. So I do my best to distract myself for the afternoon, taking to a tub of ice cream while tearing through a marathon of 80s adventure flicks. When that doesn’t do the trick, I stare down a bottle of Jack, debating whether it’s worth risking the well-being of whatever pin-sized fetus may be growing inside of me. My period isn’t due to arrive for more than a week. Getting mashed to cure my woes is out of the question.

  Damn James Kendall for weaseling his way inside my head as well as my knickers.

  Deciding being alone in my flat is only adding to the direness of the situation, I pin my hair behind my head and don a pair of stilettos with one of my favorite dresses before hitting the cobblestone path toward Leona’s. It comes as a great comfort to be surrounded by the familiar lull of rock music and immersed in the local culture. All day I was keen to call Evelyn, but as it has to do with her brother and one of her mates as well, I knew it would only give her something to fret about.

  The next person in queue to always offer a steady shoulder stands behind the bar when I arrive, chatting it up with a few young girls who look smitten with his large muscles and overall fit appearance. Can’t say I can blame them. When Nolan first inherited the bar from his grandmother a few years back, I was already a loyal customer but hadn’t had the pleasure of making his acquaintance. Those dark eyes and lush beard alone were enough to wet my knickers on the spot. I mean bloody hell. The man makes Henry Cavill appear to be a mongrel. It wasn’t long before we learned we had plenty in common as trust-fund babies. Then he told me of his adventures as a Marine, and I was ready to give him a proper shag.

  Unfortunately, my weasel of an ex was still in the picture and the bond I formed with Nolan began to resemble more of a sibling nature, ruining any thoughts I had of wanting to jump his bones. I can’t help but think he would’ve eventually run off like everyone else in my life if we had been anything more anyway.

  “Shar!” he calls out the moment he spies me headed his way. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you were staying home tonight, sugar cookie.”

  The two young women immediately scowl in my direction with the dreadful code name for “save my ass” we established long ago when some bloke I had only just met got down on bended knee and asked me to be his bride. At the time I was desperate for Nolan’s assistance and came up with a term so ridiculous he knew I’d never otherwise use.

  “I couldn’t possibly bare a moment longer without seeing my little sweet-tits,” I reply, flashing the women a wide smile.

  Chuckling, Nolan moves around the bar-top to my side, and places a kiss on my cheek. “Excuse me, ladies, but this British beauty already stole my heart.”

/>   Snarling beneath their breaths, they scurry away, eliciting a giddy laugh from my lips. April, one of the feisty waitresses with whom I’ve gotten shit-faced with a time or two, waves at me from his side and tilts her hand toward her mouth in the universal symbol for drink. I shake my head in small bursts, praying Nolan doesn’t catch on.

  I grab Nolan’s thick bicep and smile. “Why on earth would you purposely ruin your chance at getting a proper shag?”

  When he smiles back, a dimple pops into his right cheek. “They were students at NYU. Too young and naive for my taste.”

  “What is your taste?” I tease, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

  “I’ll let you know when I find her.”

  I straighten the collar on his dress shirt and sigh. “Really, Nolan. You mustn’t continue working yourself to an early grave. Take some time off. Travel the country. Have a go with an exotic woman in every port if you must. Just get out and enjoy life. There’s no need for you to be here twenty-four seven when you have a perfectly capable staff and a healthy inheritance. You could give the place to charity and you’d still be set for life.”

  “You know this place is my life.” Sadness creeps into his gaze as it flitters over my shoulder. “Besides, it’s the only thing that has kept me going since my grandma’s memory turned to shit. At least when I’m here I remember the good times with her and not all the times she’s asked me my name or gone off on some rant about how she thinks she’s a teenager and needs to hide her weed from her parents.”