I chuckled, dismounting my bike. “I think it’s sweet that you think I’m here to see you.”
Rob’s expression turned murderous. Two other men stepped out onto the porch and flanked him, crossing their arms over their barrel chests and mean-mugging me like the authentic tough guys they were.
“I want to talk to Preston,” I announced.
“It’ll be the last conversation you ever have,” Rob snapped.
“Then I’m sure you won’t mind letting me through.” I hopped up the steps and stood in front of them, smiling as though my charm would ever work on them.
Rob’s lips twitched into a cruel sneer. “As much as I’d love to pound you into the dirt where you stand, I’d much rather see what Preston has in store for you. Come on in.”
He grabbed me by the upper arm as the other two patted me down for weapons. Finding nothing, they nodded to Rob and he dragged me inside. I noticed that the inside of the house was bursting at the seams with tacky Saint Patrick’s Day decorations, from green tinsel on the walls to buckets of green bead necklaces overflowing in the entryway. The word tacky didn’t cover it.
Soon I found myself in front of Preston’s imposing office door. Rob banged on it and called out, “Special delivery.”
“Come in.”
Rob pushed into the room and shoved me forward. I caught my footing and stood upright, taking in the scene. Preston was behind his desk, and Wes sat in front of it. They each had a tumbler of amber liquid in front of them, and a cigarette smoked from the ashtray. Both of them looked surprised to see me, but that surprise soon morphed into interest.
“Looks like somebody heard the news,” Preston purred. “Funny, because I don’t remember sending him an invitation.”
Wes got up and faced me, fists drawn in tight at his sides.
“If I thought he would come, I would have sent one. Shane, you are just the man I want to see tonight.”
“How fortuitous for us both,” I drawled.
“Where did you find him?” Preston asked.
Rob chuckled. “He came right up to the front door. Said he wanted to speak with you.”
Preston’s eyes flashed with interest. Just like Paul said, the man was bored.
“You want to speak with me? How interesting.” He gestured for Wes to sit down, then pointed to the other chair. “Please. Sit.”
Before I could even start moving, Rob was pushing me toward the empty seat. I pulled myself free from his grip and walked forward of my own accord. What part of me wanting to be there did Rob not understand?
Once seated, Preston clasped his hands on the table and flashed a set of straight white teeth. “You’re here to save poor Dallas, aren’t you? Or, at least, you think you are.”
He looked over at Rob and Wes in turn. “It’s all very Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it? Except of course that Juliet’s going to live and marry someone else and Romeo’s still going to die.”
“I want to make a wager with you,” I stated.
Preston’s attention returned to me, and his smile deepened. “A wager? Go on then; you have my attention.”
I cleared my throat and stared him boldly in the eye. “One fight. You and Wes versus me. If I win, Dallas and her father are free to leave and their debt is forgiven.”
“And if we win?”
“You can kill me.”
Preston studied me for a moment and then burst into laughter. His menacing eyes, the color of torched wood, filled with glee. “I can kill you? Who said I need your permission to kill you? I could kill you right now and save all the hassle.”
“True,” I acknowledged. “But I think you’d enjoy it more if you beat me soundly and in return I gave in completely. Admitted defeat. Fuck, I’ll even pull the trigger myself if that’s what gets you off. Killing me now, on the other hand...” I shrugged. “Where’s the sport in that?”
Preston leaned back in his chair, hinges creaking. He twiddled his thumbs in his lap and stared blankly at the space above my head.
“You’re not actually considering this!” Wes said in a voice laced with disgust. “Just kill him!”
“Why, Wes?” I asked. “You afraid to lose?”
Wes curled his lip, face turning beet red. He was afraid to lose. He was close to getting everything he’d ever wanted, and me and my little suggestion were the only things in his way.
Before Wes could rummage up a reply, Preston slapped his hands on the table and stood.
“Very well, then. If you’re delusional enough to think that you can win against my son and me in a fight, then I’ll indulge your madness long enough to show you just how wrong you are.”
I rose and squared my shoulders. “Good.”
Wes shot to his feet and rounded the desk. “Dad, this is stupid. Just kill him now.”
“Shut up, Wes.” Preston beckoned Rob. “Go get Dallas and Randall and meet us out front.”
We walked out to the driveway, which soon filled with faces as Preston’s friends and employees gathered to satisfy their curiosity. My heart was pounding almost painfully, but I forced it to slow. This was just like any other mission, where the threat of death always hung low above my head. I wasn’t a teenager anymore, and I wasn’t afraid.
I was a soldier.
Rob returned with Dallas and Randall, whose expressions quickly deviated from surprise to horror.
“Shane!” Dallas called, trying to break Rob’s grip and run for me. He was too strong.
“It’s okay!” I smiled. “I know what I’m doing.”
“He doesn’t,” Preston cut in. “In fact, my dear, you’re about to watch your boyfriend die.”
Dallas screamed and struggled, kicking and gnashing her teeth in an attempt to get to me. It broke my heart.
Before I could say anything else, Preston stepped into the middle of the assembled onlookers and spread his arms wide. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have for you today an extraordinary form of entertainment.”
The crowd cheered.
“This idiot over here has challenged my son and me to a fight. If we lose, Randall and Dallas are free from us forever. If we win, this match will turn from fight to execution.”
The cheers were soon interspersed with whispers, either of excitement, revulsion, or curiosity. I didn’t recognize most of the people there. I wondered how many of them had ever watched a person die.
“Can I have a second to talk to Dallas before we do this?” I asked.
Preston shrugged. “I’m a reasonable man. You can have thirty. Starting now.”
Rob released Dallas and she ran for me, slamming into my torso and squeezing her arms tight around me. In the background, Preston began to count down.
“30, 29...”
“Dallas, listen to me.” I cupped her face in my hands and looked deep into her eyes. “I love you. I love you more than anything.”
“25, 24...”
“Don’t do this,” she whispered.
“I have to try. I’m so sorry, Dallas. I would go to the ends of the earth for you and maybe today I will. If I don’t make it out of this, I want you to stay safe.”
“20, 19...”
“Do whatever they tell you to do,” I continued. “But never stop trying to get out and never lose your spirit. As long as you stay strong, they can’t touch you. Not where it matters most.”
“11, 10...”
“I love you,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry, Shane.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” I ran a thumb across her cheek. “Loving you has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I split into a comical grin. “Plus, how many men get the chance to die for the woman they love?”
“1, 0!”
Rob lurched forward and snatched Dallas’s arm to draw her away from me. She screamed and clawed at him, even though she knew it was pointless. I expect she just needed someone to rage against.
Wes and Preston took up spots opposite me. Preston rolled
up the sleeves of his black designer dress shirt with a wry grin. Wes stood like a statue of granite and hate.
“Shall we?” Preston asked.
I dropped into a fighter’s stance and gave him a short nod. The crowd roared their approval.
Preston was in his forties, but he was a good fighter in his day, and I suspected he would make a formidable opponent. I already knew that Wes was strong, but he preferred to let other people do the fighting for him, which meant he was probably insecure about his ability. One of them was overconfident, one of them was under-confident. My best bet would be to play on Preston’s confidence to make him sloppy and try to humiliate Wes into anger.
Before I knew it, Preston and Wes had both lunged at me. As they knocked me back with powerful punches to my face and stomach, I began to wonder if I’d get the chance to use any strategy at all. They were relentless.
A humming in my eardrum soon drowned out the sound of the cheering crowd. Preston’s jeering snarl filled my vision, and then he punched me so hard in the jaw that my head cracked back. Distantly I heard a woman screaming.
Dallas.
Blood pounded in my ears, and my aching body longed for a rest, but I knew I had to power through. She was relying on me. She needed me. If I failed today her life was over, and I couldn’t live for even a second with that on my conscience. Rather than spend my afterlife in agony, I decided to finish this the right way, right now.
I kept my second wind to myself as Preston continued to pummel me. He jockeyed for space in front of Wes, blocking his son from being able to hit me. I’d never seen Preston with such joy before, like he was simultaneously experiencing a thousand Christmas mornings. But it wasn’t Christmas.
It was Saint Patrick’s Day, and Saint Patrick’s Day was for the fucking Irish.
Preston wound up for a long cross, and I nimbly ducked it and tackled into his stomach, lifting him from the ground and tossing him back over my shoulder into the gravel. He landed with a hoarse gasp. I didn’t give him a second to breathe, hopping on him and punching left and right across his face. Blood spurted from his nose. His hands scrambled at my back to pull me off, but it was too late.
It felt like a lifetime, but I was only on top of Preston for a few seconds before Wes’s body slammed mine to the ground. I rolled across the driveway as we both fought for dominance. He straddled my chest and landed a solid hit on my nose. A loud pop echoed through my skull. I roared with anger. I couldn’t feel the pain, not yet. I grabbed Wes by each arm, but instead of pushing him away, as he expected, I pulled him close and head-butted him hard in the nose. He fell to the side, cradling his injured face.
Preston was struggling to get up a few feet away, but he kept falling back to the ground.
“Wes! Get the fuck up!” Preston raged, blood and spittle flying from his mouth.
Wes stood shakily to his feet at the same time as me, though he didn’t attack straightaway. He hung back. His eyes darted around the circle as if looking for an escape, which made me smile.
Wes was afraid.
I slammed my left fist into his gut and knocked his jaw with a powerful uppercut that sent him staggering backward. He moaned and fell to one knee. Blood streamed from his mouth and nose.
“Do you yield?” I asked.
“No!” Preston yelled.
I turned to see him still clambering upright. Wes would have to wait a minute. I stalked up to him and with a solid, decisive punch, decked him out back to the ground, stone cold unconscious. The crowd gasped.
I turned back to Wes. “Do you yield?”
Wes’s chest heaved with the force of his breath, but the nod was unmistakable.
The crowd went completely silent. Nelson and another guy raced forward to Preston and crouched around him. I caught eyes with Paul across from me, whose lips twitched into a tiny smile. He nodded at me. Rob let go of Dallas to attend to Wes, and she came barreling toward me.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Please tell me you’re okay.”
“Better than I’ve ever been.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and nuzzled into her hair. The sweet smell of her hair mixed with the tang of my blood and created a scent that perfectly encompassed my love for her.
People chattered excitedly, and I looked over to see Nelson helping Preston to his feet. He stumbled as his eyes searched for me and his men caught him.
My arms stiffened around Dallas. “We’re going to go now.”
It was hard to read Preston’s expression under all the blood, but he soon gave a slight nod. “I’m a man of my word.”
The man holding Randall released him, and he ran forward and embraced his daughter, though his tear-filled eyes were on me.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!” he stuttered. “I can never repay you. This means so much!”
Dallas gasped and stiffened. I looked past Randall to see Wes standing with a gun held straight out in front of him. He cocked it.
Wes spat blood onto the ground. “I never gave my word for anything.”
I stepped past Dallas and Randall, moving to the side, so they were out of the line of fire, and raised my hands. “Wes, it’s over. You lost.”
“When you weigh the dice you never lose,” he countered. “That’s all I’m doing. Nobody here’s going to stop me.”
I glanced at Preston. He shrugged.
Ice spiked through my veins. I tried to think of what else I could say, what I could do to sway him. There was no way I could get to the gun before he could shoot it, and it didn’t seem like he was bluffing. This was an act of desperation, and a desperate man was the most dangerous kind. I should know.
“Wes don’t!” Dallas ran in front of me, throwing her arms out as a shield. “Please. If you ever felt anything real for me, you’ll let us go. You said that you love me. This is your chance to prove it.”
“I don’t need to prove anything to you!” Wes screamed. “Get out of the way!”
I noticed the hand with the gun was shaking.
“Dallas, for once I agree with him,” I whispered. “Get out of the way.”
“No!” she cried. “Wes. Please.”
There was a long, tense moment, where my eyes focussed only on the shaking gun in Wes’s hand. I wanted to move in front of Dallas, but I feared that any movement might spook Wes into shooting. So I stood still. And I waited.
Finally, Wes lowered his hand. His face screwed up in anguish, and he turned away. I wasn’t taking any more chances—we were out of there.
“Come on.” I slid an arm around Dallas’s waist. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 35
Dallas
The three of us were quiet the whole way home. I knew I should be celebrating, that I’d won the greatest fight of my life today, but I was too emotionally exhausted to tell between winning and losing. I mourned for the parts of me I left in that house. I wondered how our lives would go from here, and if we could honestly achieve our dreams now that we didn’t have Preston and Wes holding us back.
We each took our own bikes home, and Dad idled his in the driveway when we reached his house. Shane and I were halfway up the drive before we noticed he hadn’t followed us.
I turned to question him, but he beat me to the punch.
“I’m going to spend the night in my shop,” Dad said. “I think you guys could use some time alone.”
“Thanks, Dad. Are you okay?”
He grinned, and it was the first genuine smile I’d seen from him in a long time. “I’m great. Superb. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, and we can figure out what to do about all this.”
He saluted and rode off. Shane threaded his fingers through mine, and I looked up at him. He was smiling down at me, and even though his face was caked in blood, I couldn’t resist the urge to press up on my tiptoes and kiss him.
He hissed as my lips grazed a cut on his lips.
“Wuss,” I mocked.
Shane’s arms circled my waist, and he hugged me tight against his chest. “You’re far
too nice a girl to be using such language.”
“Bite me.”
His eyes sparked with lust. “Oh, I think I will.”
I laughed and pulled away from his grip, grabbing his hand and leading him inside. “Come on then. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Moments later we were in the bathroom, stripping down to nothing as the steam began to rise from the shower. I inspected the bruises on Shane’s body with care, running my fingertips over them like I could brush them away. His muscles quivered at my touch. I traced up his abs, over the swell of his pecs, and to the powerful curve of his collarbone. His cock stiffened and brushed against my thigh.
“This is the first time it doesn’t have to be a secret,” I murmured.
Shane chuckled and held my face in his hands. “I expect there are going to be a lot of firsts in our future.”
His eyes stood out, vibrant green against the rusty blood. A purpling bruise extended from his cheek to the bottom of his right eye. He couldn’t have looked more beautiful.
Shane kissed me. His mouth was gentle and soft as he explored mine, teasing with his tongue and massaging my lips. I leaned into him, the steam bringing back the dreamlike quality of our first time.
We stepped into the tub and pulled the curtain closed. I reached for the soap and directed him under the spray, then began to lather his chest, his arms, his powerful thighs. He held still as I washed the blood from his face and out of his hair. I didn’t stop washing until the water ran clear down the drain.
Shane took the soap from me, and we switched places. He rubbed the bar along my shoulders first, working down my arms to the tips of my fingers and in-between. It tickled my palm, and I giggled, but Shane gave me a stern look that told me to keep still. I held my breath as he guided the soap down the valley of my breasts, then passed it behind my back. He stepped close to me, pressing his hot body against mine as he washed my back carefully and with a kind of delicate touch that was hard to imagine coming from such a big, brawny man. At first, I thought he was going a bit overkill with the attention to detail since I wasn’t actually dirty, but then I realized what he was doing.
Shane was washing away the past three years. He was washing away Wes and Preston, and all the parties and burlesque shows and dinners. He was washing away the pain.
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