Brawler (DS Fight Club Book 4)

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Brawler (DS Fight Club Book 4) Page 11

by Josie Kerr


  Chapter Twenty-one

  Pierce nibbled on Annie’s neck, distracting her while she tried to spread some peanut butter on a piece of toast. He had his big hands firmly on her hips, and Annie could feel the lump of his erection poking into her back.

  She twisted to look at him, and he caught her mouth in a hard but sweet kiss as he slid his hands upward to cradle her breasts.

  Pierce broke the kiss and peeked down Annie’s blouse.

  “See something you like in there?”

  Pierce met her gaze. “Truly.” He craned his head around again to get a better look. “Oh yeah.”

  He expertly unfastened a button and slipped her bra strap off her shoulder. Murmuring some soft nonsense syllables in her ear and against her neck, he slid his hand into one cup and stroked her nipple until it stood up taut. Annie groaned when he plucked it, leaning back and wiggling against him.

  “Damon . . .” Annie groaned. “We are going to be late.” She wriggled out his grasp and shook a finger at him.

  He grinned at her and swooped in for a kiss. Cradling her face with both of his hands and lifting her chin, his kiss was soft and sweet and left her completely breathless.

  “Darlin’, there’s plenty more where that came from.” He kissed her again. “I can’t wait to show you. But you’re right. You gotta get to the office, and I gotta get to the gym.”

  “Okay.” She was still a little dazed.

  Pierce chuckled. “You ready to go?”

  “And how! Oh, you meant to work. Yeah, I guess so.”

  They put on shoes and gathered bags. Annie’s home phone rang several times, and Annie checked the caller ID but didn’t answer it.

  “Annie, what’s the deal with the phone? Why do you pay for it if you’re not ever going to answer it?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “If it says ‘out of area’ or ‘private number,’ I don’t ever answer because it’s always a scam or a telemarketer. Most of the time, they hang up as soon as I answer.”

  Pierce’s face crumpled with concern. “How long have you been getting these phone calls?”

  “Oh, no. I know what you’re thinking. I’ve been getting calls pretty much since I got a phone. I mean, I’m getting more of them, but I’m sure it’s just because I’ve been here longer. There’s more time to get on lists.”

  “I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. I want you to—”

  “Pierce, stop it. Johnny knows what’s going on. There’s a patrol car that comes around every few hours. I’m not alone at night.” She gave him a meaningful look and stepped into his personal space. She cupped his face in her hands. “People are looking out for me, and I’m looking out for me. I am fine. I’m going to be fine.”

  “I’d feel better if you’d give Johnny a call and tell him you’re getting hang-ups. Will you do that for me?”

  “Fine.”

  Pierce rolled his eyes. “Now, don’t be stubborn.”

  “I’m not being stubborn. You’re being bossy.”

  “Annie . . .”

  “Pierce . . .”

  He softened his voice. “Annie, darlin’ . . .”

  She shook her head. “Nope. I’m kind of mad right now, plus I have showings today. And just close your mouth because Ashley’s going with me. But I’m taking my own car, and I’ll call you later.”

  Later that morning, after a successful showing that Ashley let her take the lead on, Annie sat in her office and replayed the previous twelve hours with Pierce.

  Last night had been wonderful, and this morning had blown her mind. Well, part of the morning, until he’d turned into a controlling ass. She was done with men telling her what to do, period.

  But a niggling voice in her head told her she was being unreasonable, that she was letting Jeff’s behavior determine her reaction to Pierce. Just the look on his handsome face when she called him by his last name after using his first all night and all morning—he was really hurt.

  The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

  “Get your pocketbook, girlie.”

  Annie jumped at Ashley’s unexpected order. “What?”

  Ashley motioned to the door. “Get your pocketbook. Charlotte needs us to go to lunch.”

  “Is she okay?” Annie scrambled to get her purse.

  “We’ll find out.”

  Half an hour later, Ashley, Annie, Bailey, Em, Nanda, and Charlotte all huddled in the restroom of Foley’s Public House, an array of home pregnancy tests arranged neatly on the bathroom counter. They all stared at the tests. Each woman had a drink clutched in her fist. Charlotte had a glass of wine in one hand, a shot in the other, and an unlit cigarette clutched between her teeth.

  “Do you even smoke?” Nanda eyed the cigarette.

  “How much longer?” Charlotte asked, ignoring Nanda’s question. “Y’all, I’m about to lose my mind.”

  “Another minute.” Em peered at the tests.

  “Longest three minutes of your life,” Ashley muttered.

  Em snorted. “You should know, chippie.”

  Ashley bumped Em’s arm. “Hush, you.” But she grinned.

  “Time!” Bailey clapped her hands. “Oh, it’s time!”

  “Oh Lordy, you’ve got Bailey doing the clappy hands.” Ashley shook her head. “Okay, Charlotte, go look at them.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I can.” Charlotte looked absolutely green. She breathed in through her mouth. “I really don’t.”

  “Why don’t we all hold hands and look at the same time.”

  All the women’s eyes swiveled to Annie, who looked anxiously back at her newfound friends.

  “Yeah, that sounds good.” Charlotte nodded her head so quickly that Annie didn’t know how she didn’t have a brain injury. “Let’s do that.”

  All the women put their drinks down, clasped hands, and stepped up to the counter.

  “Hm. Okay,” Em said.

  “Huh.” Nanda looked at Charlotte and then back at the counter.

  “Thank God I never have to do this again.” Ashley leaned over and drank half her beer in one gulp.

  Bailey just had her hands over her mouth.

  “Congratulations?” Annie twisted her fingers as she looked at fourteen positive tests.

  “Oh my God, I’m going to be a mama!” Charlotte exclaimed and burst into tears.

  All the women started gabbling at once, everyone crying and smiling and hugging until Charlotte froze.

  “What’s wrong, sugar?” Em put a comforting hand on Charlotte’s shoulder.

  Charlotte’s eyes welled with tears again. “This means Tig’s going to be a daddy,” she whispered. “He’s going to be a daddy.”

  “Yes, he is. He’s going to be a wonderful father.” Em hugged Charlotte and kissed her cheek. “You’re both going to be wonderful parents.” Her eyes welled with tears also.

  “Oh, Em.” Charlotte sniffled. “Oh my God, y’all! I gotta tell Tig!”

  There was a flurry of activity as drinks were imbibed and sticks were gathered up and placed carefully in a slider bag, and then everyone tumbled out of the bathroom and out to the parking lot.

  “I’ll see if someone will record it,” Charlotte said.

  “Oh no, missy. I gotta see this in person. We all have to see this in person.” Ashley hooted. “A baby! Oh, this is so exciting!”

  “So, I take it this is unexpected,” Annie asked when they got into the car.

  Ashley nodded. “Tig got stepped on by a cow or horse or something when he was in middle school. His equipment works—and I’ve heard it’s pretty impressive—but the plumbing is disconnected. The doctors told him he’d never have a child.”

  “Oh gosh. No wonder everyone was flipping out.”

  Ashley nodded as they pulled into the parking lot of DS Fight Club, and all the women went into the building.

  “Oh, holy shit. This is either really good or really, really bad.” Dig’s eyes were huge.

  Nanda sidled up to her boyfriend. “It’s good,
trust me.”

  “What the fuck is going on?” Colin hung out of the door of his office. “Is it tea party time? Why the hell is everyone standing around?”

  Bailey swatted at her huge husband. “You, hush. Give them three minutes.”

  “Fine, but three minutes is all—”

  “Oh my Lord, Colin. You need to calm down.”

  Colin and Bailey glowered at each other until she exhaled loudly and looped her arm around his waist.

  Just then, Tig skidded into the front of the gym. “What’s going on? What? Charlotte, baby, what’s going—”

  Charlotte held up the bag. “Yes. Baby.”

  “Baby?” Tig whispered, and Charlotte nodded.

  “Oh, baby.” Tig pulled Charlotte into his arms and began sobbing. “Oh, Charlotte. Oh, baby.” He pulled back and looked her in the eyes, and then he kissed her hard.

  The club erupted with cheers and slaps on the back and hugs and kisses. Annie smiled, but she looked for Pierce, who wasn’t in the crowd of chattering fighters. She pulled away from the group and finally saw him, standing awkwardly separate from the rest of the group. When she caught his eye, she gave him a little wave and then began walking toward him.

  “Hi, Annie.”

  “Hi, Damon.”

  He ducked his head. “Annie, I’m so sorry . . .”

  “Damon, I am, too.”

  “So . . . we’re okay?”

  “For the most part.” Annie slipped her hand into his. “We need some ground rules.”

  Pierce nodded. “Want to go to my room and talk?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Pierce slipped his arm around Annie’s waist and began to lead her to the stairwell, but Colin whistled at Pierce and motioned him over.

  “Dang.”

  Annie bumped against him playfully. “Go see what he wants. I’ll be around.”

  Pierce smiled, really smiled, and bent down to kiss Annie’s cheek. “I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t go away.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Colin closed the door behind Pierce. “Have a seat.”

  Pierce sat on the edge of the couch, coiled, prepared, though he didn’t know what for.

  “Feels like I just did this.”

  Colin chuckled. “You did. I didn’t want to say anything yesterday because I didn’t know if things were going to gel or not. Yoel Schroeder pissed hot. He’s out.”

  “Damn.” Pierce lifted his hand to his mouth, the slight tremor betraying his hope that he was going to be the replacement against former Raptor Pryde teammate, Shawn Bernard, one of the dirtiest fighters Pierce had ever encountered. “That’s a shame.”

  Colin cackled. “Oh, it’s really not.”

  Heart pounding in his chest, Pierce locked eyes with Colin. “Ten-day camp?”

  “Ten-day camp.”

  Pierce whistled through his teeth. He’d taken fights on short notice before, but never this short. But thanks to Junior’s careful training, and Pierce actually giving a shit, he was in great condition despite having been stabbed in the gut earlier in the year.

  Colin leaned back in his chair. “What say you?”

  “I’m in.”

  “Oh, I know that. I’ve already accepted the fight. What say you?”

  Pierce swallowed hard. Colin threw his head back and laughed.

  “Since you don’t seem to be able to speak, I’ll tell you what I say. People have concerns—concerns about your temper specifically and if you’ll be able to keep your emotions in check, considering the circumstances. You need a damn hand truck to haul the baggage between you and Raptor Pryde around.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I’ve got it.”

  “How’s your weight? You good?”

  Pierce nodded.

  “How’s Annie?”

  “She’s good. She’s getting hang-ups, weird calls from private numbers. I don’t like it.”

  “I wouldn’t either. Where are you staying? With her?”

  “Um, yeah. Maybe. I . . . don’t know. We’re supposed to lay some ground rules.” Pierce grinned. “We’ll set some ground rules about . . . stuff.”

  “Good deal. Personally, I think she’s good for you. No, I think you two are good for each other.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I think so, too.” Pierce dragged his nail across the hem of his T-shirt. “Who’s going to be training me?”

  Colin grinned.

  Oh, fuck.

  Colin cackled again. “Oh, shit, the look on your face.” He wheezed. “I wish I had a camera in the office, just for that. Oh, man.” He continued chuckling, but then he calmed himself. “Junior’s committed to that fight in Buffalo. It’s the same night as your fight, so Paddy will train you in striking, and I’ll be taking your ass down.”

  “Oh, don’t count on it, Carmichael,” Pierce snorted. “Not a fucking chance.”

  Colin laughed again. “That’s what I like to hear. You got this.”

  “Yeah, I got this.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “So, you and Pierce, huh?” Nanda grinned at Annie.

  “Yeah?”

  “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

  Annie shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not. This is very new to me. It’s really different.”

  Nanda fanned some class schedules out across the corner of the desk. “I get it. I came down here determined to start over, and that meant no men, especially no fighters. That big idiot took me completely off guard. He’s the best mistake I ever made.”

  “Dig seems very sweet.”

  “Oh, he is. Such a Boy Scout. Completely different from anyone I’ve ever dated. It’s a nice change.” Nanda frowned. “Excuse me, speaking of idiots. Oh no, I know I didn’t just see you walk away without restacking those,” she called as she stalked over to a group of men that had just finished a rotation on the free weights.

  Annie giggled as she watched Nanda dress down the rowdy group. She’d never be able to do anything like that. She was going to have a hard enough time standing firm with Pierce and not let him boss her around.

  “Annie.”

  Annie’s heart thumped when she turned and caught sight of Pierce walking toward her. He looked very serious, but when she gave him a tentative smile, his face lit up with his own grin.

  “Hi, Damon.”

  Pierce cupped her cheek. “Hi, Annie. Ready to have that talk?”

  She nodded. Here goes nothing.

  Pierce slipped his arm around her, and they walked upstairs to the DS Fight Club apartments.

  “Wow. I . . . didn’t expect this.” Annie stopped on the other side of the secured entrance.

  Pierce rumbled a laugh. “I know, right? This is the best place I’ve ever lived.”

  He unlocked his apartment and opened the door, stepping aside so Annie could go in first.

  “I hate to ask this, but do you mind if I take a quick shower before we have our talk?”

  “No, not at all. It’ll give me a chance to be nosy.”

  Pierce laughed and then bent down to kiss her cheek. “Be back in just a few.” He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

  Annie looked around the small room with interest. She’d never imagined that cinderblock could be so . . . appealing. Sparsely furnished, the room contained only a bed and a small café table in addition to the built-in bookshelves and desk. Everything was neat and tidy, almost sterile, with no knickknacks, photos, or books except for on one lone shelf.

  Completely serious about snooping, she stepped closer. A small framed photograph sat beside a small trophy.

  Annie studied the trophy first. Plastic made to look like steel or silver, a cup sat on top of a faux wood base with an engraved placard that announced “Most Valuable Player.” It was a cheap thing, but it obviously meant something to him. She moved on to the photo. A much-younger Pierce looked passively at the camera, and two adults—obviously his parents, judging by the black hair on the beautiful woman and the
unusual hazel eyes on the man—beamed at each other, seemingly oblivious to their son, which possibly explained Pierce’s flat expression.

  Annie sensed Pierce behind her before she heard him say, “You were totally honest about being nosy, huh?”

  She swiveled her head around and grinned at him. “Yep.” Then she turned and grasped him in as big of a hug as she could manage. Pierce’s arms encircled her, and she felt his chest expand and then collapse with his breathing. He squeezed her and then ran his hands over her back.

  She didn’t let him go, just looked up at him and gave him a little squeeze. “How old were you in that photo?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “So that was right before . . .”

  He nodded. “The day before.”

  “Oh, Damon . . .” She squeezed him again. “They look very happy, very much in love.”

  “They were definitely that. They lived for one another.”

  Annie leaned her head against his chest, listening to the thumping of his heart.

  “They neglected you.”

  “Eh, I don’t know if I would say they neglected me . . .”

  “I would. I can see it in your eyes. There was no place for you.”

  He stroked her back but didn’t say anything.

  “What about the trophy?”

  He chuckled. “That’s the first and last trophy I’ve ever won. I was twelve. God, I was so excited. We’d actually stayed put for a whole six months. For whatever reason, they’d let me join a rec football team, and yeah. I got that.”

  Annie smiled, thinking about a preteen Pierce. “What position did you play?”

  “Defense. I was a linebacker.” He shrugged. “I was a big kid.”

  “And you held on to it for all these years.”

  “Yep. I’m not too sentimental, really. I couldn’t be, with the parents I had. There wasn’t much room in the camper, so I was only allowed to keep a few things. And Mom was always purging shit, getting rid of stuff she didn’t think we needed.”

  “That makes me sad. Whatever faults my parents had, they always kept everything—at least, my mother did. Report cards, certificates, artwork—all of it.”

  “Well, we didn’t have to bother with that. Remember, I didn’t go to school.” His fingers drifted over the placard. “But yeah, generally, one pair of shoes, two pairs of pants, three shirts. That’s it.”

 

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