by H. J. Bellus
I pause only to catch my breath before going on. I slide my hands down her back in a greedy move and cup her ass. Layla remains frozen in my arms.
“I have a sister. Didn’t find out until I was going through my dad’s stuff. It’s a damn long story and I’ll tell you all of it. We have the same mom. The woman who gave me up for adoption married not too long after. They had a daughter.”
“Why did he keep it a secret from you?” she whispers, bringing her hands up to my jawline.
“They are corrupt. Into politics like I told you. Dad left an explanation in a letter. You can read it if you want. He feared their obsession with money, power, and greed would be toxic and a dangerous situation for me.”
“But why?” she pleads again, her fingertips digging into my cheeks.
“They don’t like trash like me. It would taint their perfect family on paper. I’ve found out exactly what lengths they take to take out the trash.”
“Cruz,” she gasps, pressing her lips to mine for the briefest of seconds, “you are not trash.”
The mere feeling of her lips lingering on mine gives me hope. A shred I cling to in order to get through what else needs to be said. It’s ugly no matter how you slice it. But it’s time I tear off the lid to the bottle of secrets that’s kept me cemented in the past.
“In their eyes I am.” I brush my lips against hers, stealing a chaste kiss. “We need to sit down for the rest of this. That okay, babe?”
She nods. I sweep the pad of my thumb over her lower lip then bring it to my mouth, tasting her. It fucking fuels me to get on with what I have to share.
Once we are settled in the booth, each on our side and Layla has coffee in one hand and a sprinkled chocolate doughnut in the other, I begin talking.
“Found out I had a sister. You know this part. Went to find her and stumbled on so much more. Long version short, Chloe left her abusive husband. She ran away for her safety. The thing is that made her a threat to the politics they’re all drowning in. Instead of leaving her alone, they sent someone to kill her. That’s when I was hiding out in town getting up enough courage to introduce myself. I stepped in and tried helping.” I drop my head; this part is always the worst to talk about.
Layla reaches over the table clutching the top of my hand in a gesture of reassurance. “Go ahead, baby.”
“Her bastard ex-husband crashed into her while she was driving. Chloe survived, but she was pregnant with twins and lost them both.” The final words get lodged deep in my throat. It takes me a long time before I speak again.
“Chloe has a whole new family now. Her husband, Kip, is a great guy and that man is encouraging us to work on our relationship. Then they have their crazy friends Zane, Ava, Rhett, and Darby. They’re more than friends and even family; it’s hard to explain.”
“It’s taken a whole hell of a lot for Chloe to recover from that, but with them, she’s healing. I still glimpse slices of pain haunting her memories every once in a while. It’s the one thing I’ll never forgive myself for. I should’ve killed the fucker before he had the chance to hurt her.”
“Baby,” Layla gasps. “That is horrible. I’m so sorry.”
I lift my head to face her. “I carry guilt. I’m ashamed of it. Chloe’s and my relationship is still a work in progress. We are on good terms and all, but how do you connect with someone when we were both secrets? Her husband, Kip, is amazing and helps a lot.”
“So that’s why you leave? You go visit her?” she asks.
I nod. “I’m putting effort into it. Sucks with training, then when you came into my life, it was even more difficult. It’s almost like a delicate piece of glass that’s waiting to shatter into pieces. Seems to be the cycle of my life.”
Layla doesn’t respond. Instead, she stands up and slides into my side of the booth. I extend my arm along the back of the booth and let Layla decide how close she wants to be. She leaves no space between us burrowing right up to my side. She nuzzles the side of her cheek into my chest, wrapping her arm low around my waist and I follow suit, letting my arm drop off the back of the booth and kiss the top of her head.
“I’m sorry, mi amor.” I kiss her again. “I never should’ve kept this from you. It’s not something I ever talk about. My life flipped upside down the day my dad died. My bubble in the world popped forever. It’s a struggle coping and learning how to depend on others.”
“I get it,” she whispers then raises her face. Tears stream down her face. “I overreacted. Happens now and then. My past insecurities are never too far away.”
The corners of my lips turn up a tick. “Sounds like we are quite the pair and communication may be key.”
She nods in agreement, but the tears don’t stop falling. I do my best to catch each one with the pad of my thumb. There are too many.
“There are things I haven’t told you either,” she whispers, the level of her voice high-jacked by a sob.
“Hey. There’s nothing you could tell me that would make me walk away from you.”
She winces. Not the best choice of words on my part. But if I’ve learned a lesson from this it’s that I have to lay everything out in black and white. No more grey areas lingering between us.
“Layla, tell me when you’re ready. Your past has no power over us. I mean it.”
Her eyes flutter shut and her sobs quiet. “Can we eat, then talk back at your place?”
My hand palms the side of her face, pulling her face to mine. Our lips brush as I speak each word. “I’ll watch you eat, baby. Also, never again. I refuse to go a night without you in my bed. Can you agree to that, Layla? Because the way I see it, there’s no other option.”
“Yes.” She kisses me tenderly. “Yes, Cruz, I love you.”
The waitress clears her throat. We part in a slow fashion, neither of us wanting to let go. This conversation in a diner wasn’t the best of ideas. The important part is we are talking, mending, and taking the next step in our future.
Chapter 20
Layla
“Cruz, I can’t talk about it.” I sit on the edge of the bed next to him, our thighs pressed against each other. “I know that I’m being a selfish, spoiled brat right now, but I have a secret of my own. One that’s so painful I can’t do it right now. Papi and Abuela are the only ones who know about it. They’re the ones I could turn to and talk to about it in full detail, sharing all of my concerns and worries. I promise with everything I have that one day I will share it with you.”
I pause, studying Cruz’s features, trying to gauge his reaction. He shows none. His face is stone cold. I continue, knowing it’s only fair after the fit I threw.
“I know I’m asking for the world when I only have a penny to buy it. But please be patient with me. When I saw that text flashing across your screen…I thought my best friend riding Ash devastated me. I wasn’t even close. I saw Shelby’s hair flowing around their naked bodies taking everything away from me I had hoped for. Looking back, I’m thankful I caught them. There is no way in hell that I would’ve stayed with Ash. However, I do realize how horrible I am being to you and how selfish I am right now. I flipped, freaked, and lost my shit. It’s that Latina temper Papi always warns me about. I can understand if you ask me to leave tonight because I’ve been a bitch about honesty, truth, then ended up turning my back on you. If you want me to leave, I fully understand Cruz.”
He shoots from the bed with no warning, pacing back and forth running his hands over his head. It’s now I notice the several days of growth peppering his jawline. I’ve done that to him. Natural consequences at its finest. I hurt the man I love out of my greedy anger. It hurts me more than I can explain.
“Layla, enough!” he roars. “Just shut up.”
I recoil back at his words. Cruz drops to his knees in front of me before I can even string together a sentence.
His large palms cover the tops of my thighs, his fingers digging into them. “I get it. I probably get it more than anyone else. Do I think it’s fair? Hell n
o. But I’m not about to end us over my desire to know. I trust you, Layla, but this isn’t going to work if you don’t give me time to share. You have to trust me as well.”
“I do. I’m sorry for freaking out.”
He brings a hand to my cheek. “Enough. We’ve hashed this out enough. Time to move on. Work on being able to share everything with me. You won’t scare me away, baby. Our pasts will not dictate our future. I’ll repeat that sentiment until you believe me.”
“Give me time. I’ll be able to. It’s haunted me forever and the sole reason that pushed me to leave this town. It’s so powerful it made me run from my papi and my abuela, the two people who mean more to me than anything else in the world.”
“You’re giving it too much power, baby girl. Don’t let it rule you. I know it is easier said than done.”
“I hate myself for running. I missed out on so much with my family.” Tears roll down my face. “I’ve never forgiven myself for it and don’t see that happening in the near future, either.”
“Hey, hey.” Cruz rises to his feet and pushes me back until I’m laid out on the bed. His enormous frame covers mine, offering more comfort than he realizes. “I think we’ve beat ourselves up enough the past few days. Let’s just be.”
I tilt my head to the side brushing my lips over his scabbed knuckles. “This hurts me knowing it is because of my actions.”
“My choice to beat myself up,” he replies, running his nose up and down my jawline.
“I couldn’t sleep without you,” I admit, pulling up the back of his shirt.
Cruz sits up a bit, allowing me to pull it the rest of the way off. He has me stripped down until I’m bare. We climb up to the top of the bed and snuggle down under the blankets. Cruz pulls my back to his chest, holding me tight.
“I love you, Cruz Felix, more than I ever thought I could love someone.”
He kisses the tender spot of my neck, saying the same back to me in Spanish. I roll over in his arms until we are face to face. It’s at this moment I know beyond a shadow of doubt I have to tell him everything. After Vegas. Has to be that way. I’d only be ruining everything he’s worked so hard to achieve.
Our lips crash together. Our bodies begin moving. Cruz makes sweet love to me. My nails dig into the tops of his shoulders, symbolic of me never letting go. I refuse to allow fear to taint what we have. No more.
Chapter 21
Layla
It feels good. It’s fight night. The gym is in prime shape. I linger around the ticket booth making sure the ticket system is working properly. Familiar faces pass by; some are fighters’ families while others are fans. It’s refreshing to feel a part of a fully functioning working system.
And to think all this time I hated fighting. Ironic how it’s the one thing that has brought me back to life. The man my heart belongs to is a fighter. Beyond a shadow of a doubt that will be the sole reason I love fighting. All the memories of my papi coming home bruised and worn out fade away.
Because now after all this time I understand the reason for his need and hunger to fight. These men simply can’t help it. It’s in their bloodstream—the adrenaline that makes their heart pump in a steady rhythm. It’s the way they tick. There’s no other explanation.
I’m about to make my way ringside in order to make sure I’m there to see every Diablo’s Throne fighter fight. It doesn’t matter if it’s their first fight, if they’re predicted to lose, or if they are a nobody, because every fighter in this gym matters. They are my family. These are the men my papi believes in and dedicates his life to. They have earned respect.
Again, ironic at best. Three strides into rounding the counter my arm is snatched by someone, and I’m whirled around. I stare into eyes that are the same as mine. My mother. Her face is stone cold with nothing but resentment and hatred radiating back at me. I’ll never understand why she hates me so much. But all I know is that she does.
“Layla, my dear, where are you off to?”
I refuse to give into her like last time and cause a scene. I vow not to let my anger explode, taint, or diminish anything about tonight’s fight. Yes, it would be easy to lay into her right now and tell her everything I want to. It’s not the time. I could so easily give her a right hook, laying her ass out on the floor of the gym my father built. His empire.
But it’s not the time nor the place. I’ve come to grips my mom did not want to be my mom or my father’s wife. It’s simple as that. I can slice it and dice it any way I want, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles. I’m not about to waste any more of my time figuring out why.
I jerk my arm from her release and continue back on my path only to be spun back around again. This time it’s Ash’s face up in my business. Those once brilliant eyes that used to dazzle me now make me sick. He leans in close enough I can smell the cheap cologne he wears. The putrid smell of an overdone woodsy and cheap fruit scent makes me ill, spiraling me back into the past.
He doesn’t catch on how uncomfortable I am and keeps encroaching in my space. I need to get out of here; this is not okay. All it would take would be for my dad, Cruz, or Jag to see this going down in this gym we’ve worked so hard on the past few months for it to erupt in fucking flames. That will not happen.
I jerk back again taking a step away from him. I keep my lips closed not letting one word float from them. And there are so many dying to release.
Ash’s shocked look on his features illuminates the fact he’s surprised I stood up for myself in a silent manner. I see it dawn on him in the characteristics of his face. He no longer has control over me. He ruined my life for years, and now that game is over. He wants it but no longer has control over me.
“Layla, looks like you’ve found a few pounds. Maybe you need to lay off some of the food you been downing with your so-called champ.”
I cross my arms and take another step back. I will not engage. I repeat it over and over in my mind. I will not engage. There are higher stakes. There are men who have been training around the clock fine-tuning their bodies to become a fighting machine. I will not let my pride interfere with this right now. I keep my lips sealed and don’t say a word.
Ash can continue to play all the mind games he wants because it seems that’s the only champion he is. And that’s fucking with somebody else to make himself feel better. Yeah, he may be a big boy with muscles. Even though he’s a heavyweight, I’d bet all my savings a lightweight from Diablo’s Throne could kick his ass. Because their minds are strong. They don’t have to lower themselves to playing mind games.
Ash throws his head back, laughing. I’m not sure what’s so damn funny in this last thirty seconds of exchange, but he sure as hell has found something to chuckle about. He moves so quickly I have no chance to react. He leans forward, looks down, and spits. A stream of thick saliva flies from his mouth down to the tip of my Nikes.
His saliva lands right by my feet on the mat of Diablo’s Throne. It takes everything inside of me not to react. I want so badly to break my hand all over again. I would wear a pink cast for the rest of my life to pop the smug prick in his face. My fingernails dig into my palm as I try to release some of the anger and pressure building up.
He continues to rattle on about the past and how much his gym is better than ours. And how he can’t wait to take Cruz down in Vegas. Blah. Blah. Blah fucking blah. I try my best to throw it all out, not absorbing one single word of his hateful speech. I feel an arm wrap around my shoulders. I look to my left and see Cruz; my adrenaline spikes knowing nothing good will come out of this scenario. I panic.
My palms become clammy and my insides shaky because I know Cruz would throw everything away to protect me. He would take down Ash right here and now and beat him to a bloody pulp. If anything happens, it would be game over. Neither Ash nor Cruz will be fighting in Vegas for the championship.
Cruz shocks me when he leans down and seals his lips against mine. The brooding man kisses the ever-loving fuck out of me. It’s not a quick kiss or a peck
on the lips. No, he glides his tongue along the seam of my lips until I open up for him and he performs the most intricate dance, fight, combo kicks in my mouth with his sweet tasting tongue. He has me melting in a puddle of ecstasy right in front of the entire crew of dickheads.
I forget everything but the man who is kissing me, promising me everything in the simple action.
Cruz pulls back, keeping his hand firmly on my ass. “Make sure you’re ready, baby, after I win my match tonight because I’m gonna need you in the locker room naked and pressed up against me. Love you, baby.”
He murmurs the last sentence into my lips followed by a chaste kiss. He takes away all the anger and erases the vendetta. He takes it all away. Cruz gives my ass a gentle squeeze before striding off. He trusts me to hold my own and use my cool. That silent message empowers me.
“You’ve always been a whore,” Ash’s dad chides.
I look right into my mother’s dead, cold stare as I reply back to him. “Learned from the best.”
I hold my head high and shoulders squared as I make it ringside to watch the fights. My heart drums from the encounter. The raging anger never comes. It’s a very small victory. One I’ll take over and over. They can be evil as they want, but I refuse to fall victim to it.
I relax back in the metal folding chair, watching the staff from the gym get a fighter ready. The fight starts, kicking off tonight’s matches. I can only think of the near future and my time in the locker room.
Chapter 22
Layla
Cruz’s scent wraps around me as I step out of his shower. The only thing missing is him. Dad hasn’t let up on my training and self-defense lessons. I’ll admit I was a jackass about the shenanigans but have found myself enjoying them, especially when Cruz tests my skills. We always end up in a tangled mess wherever we are then somehow our clothes are off, and we are banging. So, yeah, I’m loving learning self-defense.
