“Josh?”
“What? I thought we weren’t supposed to talk.”
“I said you weren’t supposed to, but you didn’t listen.”
“Couldn’t help it,” he quips. “There was this hot, sexy woman—and I was trying to get into her pants—”
“I don’t think you had too much of a problem with that.”
“Naw.” He controls his country accent just like I do, but it slips out sometimes, the warm drawl creeping in when I least expect it.
“I feel the same way you do. I think. But it’s hard right now—”
“You don’t need to explain, Nat. There’s plenty of world and time ahead of us. For all that. At least I hope there is, Natty.”
I nod against him, and we lie there for a long time, drifting in and out of sleep.
For the next three days, we only left the cottage to grab take-out from the pizzeria across the street—and gelato once from the place down the road. I begged off of two shifts, and Josh told Ash that he had caught a stomach virus and couldn’t come into the gym until the following Monday.
No fights, he said. Nothing like that right now, Nat. We existed only in our own selfish, hazy bubble. For those few days, there was nothing and no one but us. It was what we always wanted.
What we didn’t realize—what we refused to realize—was that there was a world rolling on without us, and there were people that were bound to come looking for Josh. For all of his planning, for all the thoughtfulness he’d developed in the time we’d been apart, he was still prone to distraction.
This time, the distraction was me. And I hadn’t yet realized how serious his words about the gym had been.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Shouldn’t you be training by now?” Natalie sits on the leather sofa that faces the picture window. For the past three evenings, we’ve sat here together, watching the sun set over the Roanoke Sound. It’s been a peaceful few days—deceptively peaceful. I ignore her question and look out the window to the street and the sound beyond it. It’s the view we’ve grown up with, but being here, alone, with her, has brought the place back into perspective. I feel like I’m seeing this little town for the first time.
“Hey, hot shot, did you hear me? It’s not like I want you to go back to the gym, but a few days ago, it was all this and that about getting back to Frank and making him think you were on his side.”
“He’s been quiet.”
“Is that good?” I hear Nat shift on the leather sofa again. There’s apprehension in her voice, and I can’t say I blame her. Ash knows we’re here, but as far as Frank is concerned, I’ve gone into hiding again—and I’m taking money away from his gym by refusing to fight. We’ve gone back and forth to feed Bee each day, but other than that, we’ve been ghosts, hiding away. If I’m being honest, I could go back in the cage any time. With each day my body is healing more, and with each day, I’m getting closer to the culmination of a plan I put in place years ago.
“It’s good—for now. Nat, honestly, I’d bash that guy’s dumb fucking face in. He’s stepped on me too many times.”
“Don’t do that—”
“I’m not, Natty. Because that’s the weak thing to do. I’m not about that anymore. I’ve used my fists over my brain for a long time.” I pause and clench my fists together, imagining the crunch of Frank’s nose against the base of my palm. It’s a comforting thought, and he’d be easy to dominate physically. But there’s something far greater that I’m after: Frank’s destruction, a complete dismantling of his business. It’s something I haven’t shared with anyone, and I’ve only hinted at it around Natalie. But the semi-pro fight coming up is the perfect place to bring him down. Frank more than likely already knows that I’m headed for the damn fight. Even though it’s a little earlier than I wanted him to find out, I have to roll ahead just like I meant to before.
“But doesn’t Frank want you back at the gym? That’s the whole reason why we’re here, so you can have a save home base for going to practice, right?” I look back at her. Her blond hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, and a tightness comes to my chest. That’s what she thinks: She thinks she’s been keeping me safe by staying here with me. In reality, Frank probably knows exactly where I am and is devising some way to fuck with me so that he can maintain dominance over his chief fighter, just like he always has. The reason I came here, the reason I’m with Natalie—it’s to be with Natalie. These few days are pieces of stolen time, and it’s what I need to keep me going, keep me strong for the fight that’s ahead. The last part of my plan hinges on winning the damn pro fight, on attracting the attention of bigger promoters and on my ability to call Frank out in front of everyone. All that shit involves a lot of ifs—and I wouldn’t blame Natalie for a second if she went running as soon as all of it started to go down.
“Yeah, l know Frank wants me back at the gym. But I told him I was having complications with my shoulder. Frank’s already pissed at me, Nat. He thinks I’m up to something, but he doesn’t know what.” The phone in my pocket starts to buzz, as if it’s calling on my thoughts, making them real.
“Josh, I feel like there’s still a lot you’re not telling me.” Her amber eyes rest on me, waiting for me to explain. I’ve tried, but it just falls flat, sounds stupid when I repeat it all in my head. If I spelled everything out, it’d sound just like my idea to go into fighting in the first place.
“I’ve told you, baby.” I pick up the phone and glance at it before hitting the ‘reject call’ button. It’s Frank, for the tenth time this morning. He wants me to pick up some fight, according to the message he left me this morning. I roll my eyes. His ploy this time isn’t going to work. I have enough saved to get through the month, and I’ve got the gym, even if it is in Ash’s name right now. I can’t do what Frank wants—at least not yet. A message flashes across the screen before I put the phone down.
He knows where your girl lives. The message is from Katy, and it’s just been sent. A rush of anger makes its way through my body, and I feel my muscles tensing up. There’s a phantom bit of pain from my left shoulder, but I know I could fight if I needed to. And he’s planning on finding the both of you. He’s pissed as hell you’re not back at the gym and not booking fights under his name.
I won’t need to fuck him up, I think. I can figure this out rationally. But by the time the thought is complete, I’m putting Nat’s car keys in my pocket and checking each window to see if there’s anyone watching it. I know my next move will be to head out of the damn door and drive to Natalie’s, but that might be exactly what Frank wants.
“Dumb fucking fighter,” I mutter. “Should have known better.” I start pacing, and Natalie scoots off the sofa and walks toward me. She catches my arms and pulls me into her. The only thing she’s wearing is a long t-shirt—no bra, no panties. My cock stirs when she stands up on her tip toes and puts her lips to mine. I kiss her back roughly and cup her breast, flicking my thumb over one hard nipple. She moans into my mouth, her tongue seeking out mine. But before I entertain the thought of bending her over and fucking her until she can’t move, I need to think about what’s more important: taking care of her, making sure she stays safe, even if it means exposing her to the baser parts of my personality. I step back and look at her. This beauty is a thing that needs protecting.
Maybe, as far off course as I’ve veered, I haven’t actually lost sight of what’s important. It was Natalie all along. It always was. I kiss her on the forehead and bring my hands to her shoulders. It’s a shame that holding a woman’s tits isn’t seen as a fond, casual gesture—I’d rather hold onto those soft mounds than take her by the shoulders and look her in the eye. But something tells me that wouldn’t be in the best taste.
“Can you get over to the hospital, Nat?”
“I cancelled my shift for today. And if you’re not heading to the gym, I don’t see why we can’t just stay here and fuck.” She emphasizes that last word. I’ve learned she likes using it a lot, and I’m damn glad
she’s let a little of that dirty girl inside come out. God knows I like hearing her say it. I shake off the urge to forget Katy ever texted me and push Nat to the floor and shove my cock in her mouth. The image sends more blood rushing to my cock—not just at the thought of slowly and fully fucking her face, but at the thought that she’d fucking love it. She licks her lips like she’s reading my mind, and I take one more step back from her.
“Nat, I’m serious. Katy just texted me and said Frank found out where you live. He’s trying to fuck with me, and damned if I know what his next move is. I know he’s fucked up fighter’s apartments in the past—and I wouldn’t put it past him to do the same to yours.”
“Shit, are you sure he knows where I am? How would he know?”
“He’s got ways. And I’d be a lot more comfortable if you were gone.”
“Send the weak woman away?” She raises an eyebrow at me, but there’s a quiver in her voice. She knows I’m right—she just can’t resist getting in one jab before I leave.
“You need to leave, Nat. You can borrow Linda’s car from the main house, right? Promise me you’ll get out of here pronto.”
She nods and brushes a piece of hair behind her ear. “I promise,” she says.
I look back at her once more before walking away. Her steady gaze reminds me of the look she gave me when I left her at her father’s wake, mourning and confused. I shake off the old feelings of guilt and shame. Even now though, when I look at her, there’s a drop in the pit of my stomach. I’m not the man who falls for the girl, who lets a woman take him over like Natalie’s done to me. Maybe I’ve just been kidding myself about what type of man I am. Nat’s always been my soft spot, even when I’ve walked away from her.
All for her, I think. It’s all for her. The thought somehow steels me against what lies ahead. I walk out to her Civic and hop in. I pull out, feeling strange, like I’m doing something I shouldn’t be doing. But soon I’m en route to Nat’s, and I swear I’ll figure out what Frank’s up to—and then I’ll be on my way to the gym and back in the game I planned.
***
When I get to Natalie’s, the air feels quiet—eerily so. Her house looks untouched, sitting there among the row of identical little shacks that adorn the street. The crepe myrtles out front have just started to drop their flowers—the first sign of real autumn around these parts. Since the trailer park moved out from behind these places, the whole row looks kind of peaceful.
“This can’t be,” I say. I park the car carefully, pulling up right in front. I’ve driven to some of the young fighters’ places with Ash before when Frank’s been in the intimidating mood. It wasn’t pretty: furniture destroyed, piles of burned pictures in the middle of the room, walls ripped open. It’s amazing what you can get young kids to do when they’re amped up on steroids and cocaine—and that’s what Frank did. He pitted kids against kids, targeting anyone who tried to leave, making up debts and issuing icy threats to each of their family members. And most of them were just trying to do what I am—get the fuck out of the underground fighting world. I shake my head at the thought as I walk up the steps. There are hot pink petals from the trees dusting the steps—all intact. Not a one of them is crushed under a heavy boot print, and the door is still locked.
Even though I know I’ll just find Beatrice on the other side, I unlock the door anyway. Her meow greets me on the other side, and I feel the gentle nudge of her jaw against my ankle before my body is even all the way inside.
“Hey, Bee. No suspicious activity to report?” She looks up at me and meows again, plaintively. She’s used to being alone for long stretches of time due to Nat’s classes and shifts, but our stay at the Island Guest House has thrown her for a loop. I reach down and scratch her ears. The old grandfather clock that has been here since I moved in back when I was fifteen ticks on in the hallway, emphasizing the silence.
Funny, I barely noticed that thing when I was here. I stand in the middle of the room, and there’s a pang deep in my gut. Something isn’t right. When Frank bullies a fighter, it’s very direct. It ain’t like this. Maybe it’s Katy. Maybe she’s the one who’s fucking with me here.
My phone buzzes again. My movements slow down, and time seems to stop for just a moment. When I answer, I hear heavy breathing. There are wind chimes in the background.
“This girl looks a bit too classy for you, Joshie.” My pulse quickens, and my throat grows tight. Frank. Fucking Frank. How did he find out—
“Where the fuck are you, Frank?” I already know the answer, but there’s the slightest possibility that this isn’t what I think it is, that I’ve jumped to conclusions that aren’t reality.
“Standing outside this nice yellow cottage. Doesn’t seem like your style, Joshie. Looks like you must really like this one.”
“Frank, I swear to Christ, I will kill you.”
“I’d like to see you try, Long Shot. I got Cole here with me—and you know how that sweet kid gets when he’s snorted a little blow—”
“Frank!” I yell into the phone, the sound echoing against the empty walls of Nat’s house. There’s a click on the other end.
This time, Frank’s the puppet master, and I’m playing right into his hands. But I don’t give a shit—because one of the pieces in his little game is Natalie.
And he’s going to fucking pay.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Come on, Nat, get your shit together, girl.” I talk to myself as I pull on my panties and leggings, trying to get myself in some sort of presentable manner for the hospital. It’s not like it’s a super formal work environment, but I don’t think they’d want me to show up without any pants. A lot more people would be applying for medical school if that was what being a doctor was all about. I giggle at the thought, but the sound is thin and nervous when it comes out.
Frank has been a looming threat for our entire time at the quaint little cottage. The problem is, I don’t know what that threat truly means. This is Josh’s world, not mine. The threats in my world are predictable: there’s the threat of fucking up a patient, the threat of having a patient die, and the threat of getting sick from a supervirus. That last one doesn’t cross my mind too much—only on particularly bad days.
“Josh knows Frank,” I remind myself as I pull on a bra under my shirt and stumble into my shoes. “And if he says that I’m fine just heading off to the hospital, then I’m fine.” I bite my lip and pull on the long cardigan I picked up last time we went to feed the cat. The mornings are cooler now, which means Josh’s fight is approaching. The promise of that money hasn’t seemed to propel him forward in the past week or so. Instead, he’s standing still. It’s nice that he’s standing still with me. But nothing about this sits right, not now that the haze of lust is clearing, and I’m in an empty cottage, pulling together my shit so someone won’t come and beat me up. I buzz Linda from the landline right as I’m about to walk out of the door. She answers, and I hear that same teasing tone that Summer gets when she’s giving me shit during my shift.
“You folks need some food or anything? I’m happy to send along some sandwiches, as long as y’all are decent.”
“No, Linda. That ain’t—isn’t—uh, necessary. I’m needed at the hospital, and Josh just left with my car. I’m wondering if you’d let me borrow yours, just for a couple hours.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Linda’s got you taken care of, no worries at all.” Her accent is as thick as molasses, and something about it is comforting to hear. “You just go ‘round back to the garage, and you can take it right on out. Keep safe, darlin’.” I hang up and sling my purse over my shoulder, then head for the door. When I go to twist the knob, there’s resistance on the other side. Then I see a familiar face.
“Cole, what on earth are you doing here? You should be—” Cole pushes the door open and pulls me into a choke hold before I can say another word. I claw at his arm with useless hands.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “Frank said his guys in the mob know where my
mama lives in…” I can’t quite make out the name of the town as my hands go slack and I can’t claw anymore. The colors around me start to fade out, turning gray and then black. I hear what sounds like Frank’s voice in the distance. It’s the last sound I hear before my thoughts drop out and I slip into unconsciousness.
Long Shot: An MMA Stepbrother Romance Page 18
