Knocked Down

by Nikki Ash

  “Ok, cool,” Nathan says, shoving more cereal into his mouth. I finish eating my apple and throw the core in the garbage. I grab a cereal bar and my bottle of water and head toward the front door to wait for Marco as my parents come down the stairs.

  “Morning. Just getting up?” I give them a knowing look.

  “Actually, we have been up for a couple hours. We just had to go upstairs to…” My mom blushes at the realization she’s about to be busted.

  So, of course, my dad saves her. “Find something. Where are you going?” Good change of subject, Dad.

  “I’m going jogging over at Red Rock with Marco.”

  “Have a good run, honey.” My mom gives me a quick kiss on my cheek before going to the kitchen.

  “Make sure you warm up good, first,” my dad says. Always in trainer mode.

  “You got it!”

  Marco pulls up in his black Audi A5, a birthday present from his parents for his eighteenth birthday. I yell bye to my parents and run out the door toward his car. I still have ten months until I turn sixteen but I am hoping I get something half as hot as his car.

  “Hey!” I say getting in and putting on my seatbelt.

  “Morning Belles,” he replies. Just like I do every time I get in his car, I begin to mess with the music. I grab the auxiliary cord and plug my phone in, clicking play on my playlist.

  “Damn, Bella. It’s too early in the morning for your girly shit.”

  “Don’t talk trash about Avril. She’s badass.” I stick my tongue out and Marco rolls his eyes at me but still lets me turn it up.

  The ride to Red Rock is about twenty-five minutes and the entire way I sing the lyrics to the songs obnoxiously. Marco shakes his head but I can see him smiling. Our friendship has always been easy. Even when he hit high school, and I was much younger, things pretty much stayed the same between us. Sure, he made new friends and would hang out with them occasionally, but he still made fighting and training his number one priority which meant I still saw him daily at my dad’s gym. He didn’t care that I’m six years younger than him. He has always treated me like his equal.

  Then, when he turned eighteen and started fighting professionally, I was a little older, and in the back of my mind I thought for sure he would forget about me and our friendship, but here we are almost three years later and still hanging out like we always have. Marco knows what fighting means to me and he is amazing about encouraging and supporting me.

  The only person I am closer to than Marco is Tristan. Tristan and I have been friends since we were born (OK, not really, but pretty much). But while Tristan loves to fight and enjoys it as a hobby, he doesn’t really plan to go professional with it. He has mentioned taking the training route like his dad or even possibly becoming a sports agent one day. Who knows.

  Fighting, in some shape or form, has been a part of our lives for as far back as I can remember. Marco’s dad, Caleb, is a retired fighter from the UFC just like my dad, and Marco’s mom is a doctor who runs a sports medicine clinic. My mom does the accounting at the rec center and at my dad’s gym. Tristan’s dad, Kaden, is a trainer at the gym and his mom, Ashley, runs the rec center. My dad’s best friend Bentley used to be a UFC fighter but quit to become a stay-at-home dad years ago, and his wife, my Aunt Kayla, who pretty much helped raise me for the first four years of my life, works with Marco’s mom at the sports clinic as a physical therapist.

  See what I mean? Fighting is my life. My dream is to one day become a UFC women’s champion. Marco understands where I’m coming from because his goal is just like mine. Since he started fighting, he has been in several fights in the last couple years and he is undefeated in his weight class. His most recent fight was a few weeks ago and he was the main card event on Pay-Per-View. It’s the first fight he made seriously good money on, especially since he won, but more importantly he has become a household name. He has women showing up to the gym wanting to go out with him, they are stalking his social media, and guys will ask him for his autograph while we are out somewhere.

  Watching him fight and win is amazing. If Marco can do it then I know I can as well. He might be older but I’ve been fighting longer. I can’t wait to turn eighteen and join the UFC, and I will join the UFC because I am determined.

  “You ready to do this?” Marco parks his car in the parking lot and turns to me, his smile making my heart beat just a little out of rhythm. With black eyes the color of onyx, dark black hair shaved short, and caramel colored skin courtesy of his Hispanic roots, Marco Michaels is a damn good-looking guy. Then you add his carefree attitude and his fit body, and it’s no wonder girls swoon over him on a regular basis.

  I ignore the way his smile makes me feel and answer him. “Yep!”

  We get out of the car and walk to the trail. After warming up and stretching, we start on our run. While Marco could easily outrun me, he always runs next to me, keeping at the same pace. We run side by side in comfortable silence. The only noise is my app letting us know when we hit each mile. After the third mile, Marco slows down.

  “Holy shit! I feel like I haven’t run in years.” Marco comes to a standstill, sitting down on a rock on the side of the dirt trail.

  “What have you been doing the last few weeks since you won your fight?” I laugh, continuing to jog in place to keep up the momentum.

  “Basking in the glory of my win,” he jokes.

  “Well, you need to bask in the glory of this run. Let’s go!” I take off running to get a head start knowing Marco will follow and catch up to me in no time, but when I turn the corner, I don’t see the huge ass rock in my way. My foot hits it, and because there’s nothing but air around to catch my fall, I fall onto the ground right onto my knees.

  “Ow!” I roll over onto my butt, holding onto my legs. My knees hit the hard ground and that shit hurt. Bad.

  “You ok?” Marco bends down to check on my knees.

  “I’m fine. It just hurts.”

  “Let me see.” He sits down next to me and grabs my legs, putting them on top of his. Both my knees are bright red and lightly bleeding.

  “We need to clean these up in case there are pieces of rock in your cuts.” Marco rubs his hands down my leg causing my stomach to do flip-flops.

  “I’m fine,” I insist, and try to move my legs out of his reach.

  “Stop. Let me clean your knees.” He grabs my legs and holds onto them tight. Then he grabs his shirt from the back and lifts it up over his head, leaving his sweaty front on display. I divert my attention back to my cuts.

  Taking his bottle of water, Marco wets the shirt and gently rubs each of my knees. I flinch when the material hits my cuts.

  “Sorry,” he says softly. He leans down and gently blows on the cuts, making my stomach clench and my heart go erratic. After both my knees are clean, he stands up then reaches down to help me up as well. As I come up onto my feet, my body hits his, not realizing how hard he was tugging me up. Our faces are close, only inches apart. He glances down at me and sighs, and I can feel his cool breath hit me. It smells like the peppermints he’s always sucking on. Our eyes lock and we kiss.

  And holy. Shit. Do we kiss.

  His lips start off soft just barely touching mine like he’s testing the waters, unsure of himself. Our eyes are still open, neither of us daring to be the first to blink. My heart is pounding, and his breathing is heavy. When my lips move in sync with his, his eyes close, his kiss becoming more aggressive. My head tilts to the side and his tongue finds its way inside. Marco’s hands leave mine and land on my butt, pulling me closer to him until our sweaty bodies are lined up with no space between us.

  Our kiss goes from sweet and gentle to frantic and desperate within seconds. Our tongues entwining with each other. I finally close my eyes and sink into his hold. Just as I think I am getting the hang of this, it stops. Marco’s lips leave mine and he backs up.

  “Shit.” His hands come up to his face, his head shaking in disbelief, and I don’t even know what to say. I w
ould be lying if I said I’ve never imagined what it would be like to be kissed by Marco. I’m a teenage girl, of course I have. But I never imagined it would be so… Wow! This is my first time being kissed and if this is what my first kiss feels like… well, I can’t even imagine it getting any better than that.

  “Shit,” Marco spits out again. His head is tilted to the sky now like he’s praying to the heavens above. He’s breathing like he just ran ten miles and his fists are clenched at his sides like he’s pissed.

  “Umm…” I start to say having no idea what to continue with. What I want to say is “let’s do that again” but something tells me, Marco’s “shit” isn’t a good shit, more like a ‘what the hell was I thinking’ shit.

  “We need to get back,” he says, and without waiting for me he turns around and starts running back to his car. I run after him but unlike every time we have run together, this time Marco doesn’t wait for me.

  “Should we… maybe…talk about this?” I finally ask when I catch up to him outside of his car.

  “Later,” is all he says.

  He hits the key fob unlocking the doors and gets in, and without waiting for me to turn on the music like he always does, he turns it on himself. He turns it up loud, making it clear he doesn’t want to talk. Ok, fine, I think to myself. We will talk later, like he said. It will give me time to process what happened.

  Tomorrow.

  We will talk about this tomorrow.

  Once we have both processed what just happened we will discuss this.

  Available on Amazon and Free in Kindle Unlimited: Tapping Out

  Excerpt from Bordello: a standalone mob romance

  One

  Giovanni

  “Listen Don, you and my father go way back, so if this girl has the balls to show up here and ask for the loan, I’m going to give it to her. But I just had Johnny look her up and she isn’t worth shit. You know I don’t normally deal with people like this.”

  I’m sitting at my desk in my office checking my watch for the time… again. I’ve got too much shit to handle today and dealing with a little girl who needs money to pay off her overdue credit card bills isn’t my top priority, that’s for damn sure.

  “I understand, Giovanni. Like I said, I’m calling in a personal favor. This girl, Ashley, she’s a tough cookie, but she just can’t seem to catch a break. Single mom, working at my strip joint to make ends meet. She isn’t like the usual women. She doesn’t do drugs. She’s got her head screwed on right. She wouldn’t be asking for thirty grand unless she’s desperate for it.”

  Don is the owner of Double D’s strip club here in Las Vegas. For many years, Don and my father have done business together. Our family owns the club but we are what you call silent partners. My father has been using the club to launder money for years. I, on the other hand, have more productive ways to do business.

  “You know the chance of me getting this money back from her are slim, right? Which means you will be paying me back if she can’t.” Don knows I don’t lend money to people who have nothing to lose.

  “I told her if she can’t pay you back, she would have to work for you.” I laugh at that. There’s no way I’m forcing some woman to work at my club. The reason it runs so smoothly is because the women who work here choose to be here.

  “You know that’s not happening.”

  Don sighs. “I know but I’m hoping she’ll be scared enough that she’ll pay you back. She’s responsible. She’s just going through a tough time.”

  There’s a knock on my door, and Johnny—my right-hand man—enters. “Boss, there’s an Ashley Myers here to see you. Edgardo asked me to see what she wants but she only wants to speak to you. Are you expecting her?”

  Edgardo is one of my bouncers here at the club. His job is to keep an eye on who’s coming and going, and to make sure shit stays on the up and up. When you’re in the business I’m in, it’s easy for shit to go bad quick. The key is to always be one step ahead.

  “Send her back here.” Johnny nods once and heads back out, closing the door behind him. “Listen Don, apparently, your girl has some brass fucking balls because she just got here.”

  “Thank you, Giovanni. Like I said, I owe you one.”

  “Yeah, you do.” And I always fucking collect. I hang up the phone and wait for Johnny to walk this girl back to my office so I can handle this before I leave to meet my mom for lunch. I check my cell for any messages and notice one from Cecilia.

  Cecilia: Senator Hightower hurt Natalie. Can you please come here asap?

  Me: Is Rome holding him?

  Cecilia: Yes

  Me: Be there in twenty minutes. Do we need to call Dr. Fox?

  Cecilia: Already did…. It’s not good.

  Jesus fucking Christ! This isn’t the first time the Senator has put his hands on one of my girls. I gave him a second chance because of his affluence in the community, but it won’t be happening again—not at my damn club. I look down at my watch and make a mental note to let my mom know I won’t be making it to lunch today.

  There’s a knock at my door, and Johnny enters. “Boss, Ashley Myers.”

  “Thank you. You can close the door behind you.”

  He exits, leaving a pretty brunette with a banging fucking body, and my first thought is she would make a fabulous addition to the women here. While she is probably almost thirty years old, she screams innocence and maturity in her royal blue wrap around dress. Don was right; she isn’t your typical stripper. She hasn’t been in this life long enough for it to corrupt her, but it will. It always does.

  I stand to greet her. As I am assessing her, I notice she is doing the same to me. Her eyes are telling. She is trying to figure out if she can trust me, which is ironic since I’m the one lending her the money. Her eyes roam over my face then move down to my chest. While I start my day in a three-piece suit, as the morning progresses, articles of clothing tend to get shed, piece by piece. My jacket is thrown over the back of my chair, my tie undone with the top buttons of my shirt unbuttoned.

  Her eyes stop at the tattoo that is peeking out of my shirt. It’s a saying in Italian. Dalla nascita. Per sangue. Famiglia. By birth. By blood. Family.

  My grandfather, my father, and my brothers all have the same tattoo. We were taken to get the ink done the day we turned eighteen when we were officially brought into the organization. The moment she realizes I am watching her check me out she blushes an adorable pink. The men that frequent this place would eat her alive.

  I motion for her to have a seat, then I sit down as well. “How may I help you?” My tone comes across as let’s get straight to the damn point instead of polite and she looks down at her hands for a moment, taken back by my bluntness. Maybe she was hoping I’d offer her some coffee and pastries. As cute as she is, I don’t have time to fuck around. I have a girl who has been hurt and a Senator who is going to pay for hurting her.

  Ashley looks up at me, her shoulders square, back straight. “I need a loan for thirty thousand dollars and I was told by Don you could help me.” I gotta give this girl credit. She is holding her own.

  “Hmm… Did he now. Did he tell you what I accept for collateral?” I hold back my smirk because really, I’m just fucking with this woman but she doesn’t need to know that. She doesn’t own shit other than a house that will more than likely be foreclosed on in a few months, which is why Don threatened her with working for me, hoping it will motivate her to pay me back.

  “Yes, women,” she chokes out, and I have immediately gained respect for her. You can see it written all over her face she is scared shitless, yet she is still here, with her chin up, asking for a loan knowing if she can’t pay me back she will be working as an escort here at my bordello, La Stella Gentleman’s Club. Stella was my nonna’s name, which translates to Star. When my father came over here from Italy and opened the bordello forty years ago, he named it after his mother—my grandmother—who died in a shooting shortly after my father was born.

  “S
o, you understand if at any time, you can’t pay me back the set monthly payment you will be required to work it off here at my gentleman’s club?”

  “Yes, I do.” Her voice wavers but she keeps her chin up.

  I have Johnny run a more thorough background check on her, and once she checks out, I lend her the money. She argues about the interest rate, and for a second I almost feel bad because I can practically guarantee this woman won’t be able to make these payments, but at the end of the day that’s not my fucking problem. My job is to bring in the money, not give it away. Twenty percent interest is considered low with the people I deal with but no matter how confident this woman is, she’s playing a game she has no business being a part of. What she doesn’t know is that by Don vouching for her, if she doesn’t pay up, he will end up taking over her loan. Once she has the money in her hands, I have Johnny see her out.

  More than likely I will see her again when I’m forced to go after her for the money she owes me until I know she has nothing left to give. Will I actually drag her here to work for me? Hell no. I prefer all my woman to come willingly, but if she knows that, she won’t even bother attempting to pay me back. More than likely she will lose her house then she will sell her car, and then she will rack up whatever credit cards she has. After she’s gone down all those avenues she will borrow money from her family or a close friend, and once she’s out of options and she has hit rock bottom—because they always do—Don will have to take over. Either way, I’ll be getting my money back with interest. Because unlike Ashley, who has no idea what she got herself into, Don knows I don’t fuck around. I have a reputation to protect, and in the business and family I’m in, your reputation is all you have.

  I am Giovanni Valentino and my family runs one of the most powerful crime organizations in Italy as well as Nevada, and I run one of the most exclusive brothels in the United States. I am also one of the biggest loan sharks on the West Coast.