The Fight Club - Boxed Set

by Becca Jameson

  “He asked you to check on me?”

  “Sure. He was worried about you. Thought you’d had an abusive relationship in the past.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t really mean to give him that impression, but it all happened so fast, and then he was gone. I’m way too strong to allow myself to be abused.”

  “Apparently, if you had the balls to send a sexy man like Zane packing before he barely got through the door.” Emily giggled again.

  “He is sexy, isn’t he?”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “All six of them are. I get tongue-tied in their presence. Naturally, I’m partial to Rider, but hey, I’m in a relationship, not dead.” She shrugged.

  “I feel kinda stupid now.”

  “Don’t. Hell, until you’ve been inside the club a few times and watched the scene, there’s no way for you to truly realize what the lifestyle encompasses. I was so stunned when I first started going that I spent three Friday nights sitting in one spot people watching, until Rider came to me and wormed his way into the booth across from me.”

  “Oh God. I would have died.”

  “I thought I would, believe me. Rider fills a room. And his intensity when he’s in a dominant mode is enough to send sparks through the air. I’ll warn you, if you’re interested, Zane is the same. It’s intense, but smolderingly hot.”

  A shiver shook Abby’s frame, and she took another fortifying gulp of wine. “Hotter than when he’s rescuing women from under porches?”

  “Oh yeah.” Emily’s smile broadened. “He’s got a variety of sides. In regular society he’s a perfect gentleman. Quiet. Tidy beyond belief. Anal. When he’s in the ring, he’s all business. He turns into a wild man. It’s impressive to watch. They dubbed him ‘The Animal.’ He takes on an entirely different demeanor.”

  “Yikes. And at the club?” Abby shivered picturing Zane standing above her. Her hands shook as she set her glass on the counter.

  “Sex on wheels, girl. Don’t tell Rider I said that. I’ve seen him do a few scenes with women. Believe me, they always come back for more. Jenna and Katy have been around longer than me. I’m sure they could tell you a few stories.”

  Why on earth did that make her panties wet? Abby pinched her legs together and tried to shake the arousal she felt just thinking about letting Zane dominate her. “Who are Jenna and Katy?”

  “Jenna is Mason’s fiancée. Katy is Rafe’s wife, two other guys from The Fight Club. They’re the sweetest women. The best part about meeting Rider and joining his gaggle has been the friendships I’ve developed with the other women.”

  “I might have judged a bit too harshly.”

  “No biggy.” Emily grinned. “If you’re interested, you can go to the club with me any time. I’d be happy to show you around.”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll pass for now. The whole thing scares me.”

  “I understand. If you change your mind, just let me know.”

  Abby lifted her glass and downed the rest of the wine in one gulp. She felt hot, as though she had a fever. Was it the wine, or was it all this talk of hot MMA fighters who dabbled in BDSM and sported tattoos?

  Chapter Five

  First thing Monday morning when Abby got to work, she ran into Lauren in the locker room. “Hey. How was your weekend?”

  “It was okay.” Lauren didn’t turn to face her. She was bent over strapping her shoes on. She wore the usual uniform—tight skirt, too short, bustier, also skimpy, and high heels. Lauren definitely had the body for the outfit, so she was the perfect person for the job. Her breasts spilled over the top of her bustier and her ass filled her skirt perfectly, giving her a true hour-glass appearance. Her long brown hair was thick and naturally wavy, and it looked fantastic when she wore it loose. It did not come from a bottle.

  That would be why men hit on her. And that would be why Lauren kept this job. It paid well. Abby knew she was also taking classes at the local community college. She was pursuing a degree in restaurant management. In the meantime, waitressing at the casino paid the bills and allowed her to pay for school also.

  Something was off with the woman this morning. She wasn’t her usual chipper self, nor had she made eye contact with Abby. “Lauren?”

  Finally, she stood and faced Abby. There was a bruise on her face below one eye.

  “Lauren…” Abby reached out a hand, but Lauren backed up a step.

  “I ran into the wall on my way to the bathroom. It’s no big deal.”

  “Lauren,” Abby repeated. She was no more buying that than a local beachfront property.

  “Gotta get out there. I’m almost late.” Lauren breezed by Abby and pushed through the door to the noisy casino.

  Abby took a deep inhale and headed to her station also. She was a good dealer, and she knew it. That was why she’d come to Vegas in the first place. She’d moved here from Tunica, Mississippi, where she’d learned everything there was to know about blackjack and had worked at the casino from the moment she was old enough.

  Vegas was the place to be. The money was better, the housing was cheap, and the adventures were far more exciting than anything in Mississippi. Dealing cards wasn’t a life ambition. Writing was. But in the meantime, making money to support herself was paramount. She was good at it. Her dad had taught her from a very young age. She had an excellent memory and fast hands. And she knew she wasn’t hard on the eyes. She wasn’t Lauren, but she looked fabulous in her black hose, short black skirt, and tuxedo shirt. Her own hair was almost black, thick, and hung in layers down her back when she wasn’t working. At the casino, she wore it in a ponytail, one of the many rules.

  After checking in with the supervisor, Abby took her spot and immediately had three older gentleman at her table. Pushing thoughts of Lauren out of her mind, she smiled at her first victims and proceeded to take their money.

  She had a steady round of customers all morning, and never found Lauren anywhere during her hourly ten-minute break. So, it was a relief to run into her when it was time for lunch. “Lauren. Hey. Lunch?”

  “Sure.” Lauren smiled, but her face was swollen and looked painful.

  They grabbed their lunch bags from their lockers and found a corner table in the break room to eat. “Are you going to tell me what really happened?” Abby asked. She wasn’t about to let this go.

  Lauren didn’t say anything for several seconds.

  “Look, I’m not stupid. I know you’re seeing that Russian guy, and I know he’s rough with you. Can’t you just break up with him?”

  “I wish,” Lauren muttered.

  “What do you mean? End it. You’re not happy, and he’s been hitting you for at least two of the four weeks since I met you.”

  Lauren lifted her face; her eyes were watery but she held back tears. “It’s not that simple, Abby. He’s…”

  “He’s what?”

  “Not the kind of guy you say no to.”

  “Pardon?” Abby didn’t know any kind of guy she wouldn’t hesitate to say no to. In fact she’d just two days ago turned down the hottest man on earth. Granted, she hadn’t gotten him out of her mind since then, but still.

  “Look, I’m handling it. Can we talk about something else?”

  Abby stared at the top of Lauren’s head where it hung toward the table. Lauren never let her head hang, or her shoulders slouch for that matter—both of which were her current stance. “I think you need help.”

  Lauren’s face shot up. “Of course not. Don’t be silly. Anton just likes things a certain way. I’m clumsy sometimes.”

  “Lauren, you should hear yourself. You’re brainwashed. Men don’t hit women because their food isn’t hot enough.”

  Lauren’s shoulders slumped again. “I know. I know. I’ve got it. Don’t worry, okay?” She grinned, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  Abby didn’t bug her anymore, but she kept a sharp eye on her demeanor. It wasn’t good.

  Two hours later, a man sidled up to her table while she was between patrons.

  Abby lift
ed her face to smile at him and froze. It wasn’t Anton but one of his lackeys. She’d seen his boys around the casino with him a few times. This man was just as scary.

  “Anton sent me over to tell you to mind your own fucking business, bitch.” He said all this under his breath without moving a muscle to match the strength of his words.

  “What?” Abby stared in disbelief. “Are you talking about Lauren?”

  “Who else would I be speaking of? Stay away from her, and stop filling her head with shit, or you’ll find yourself with a shitload of problems of your own. Are we clear?”

  Abby licked her lips and nodded.

  “If I have to speak to you again, I won’t be so polite.”

  Abby nodded again, and before she could blink, the man disappeared.

  She glanced around. No one was looking at her. Not even the shift manager who was busy talking to another dealer.

  Shit. Fuck. And shit. She glanced up at one of the many cameras trained toward her table. What she should do if she had any sense would be to turn around and report the asshole immediately.

  Instead, four other men, partially inebriated, sidled up to her table, and two seconds later, Lauren showed up to take their orders. As she finished, and before Abby had completely regained her composure, Lauren turned toward Abby and gave a shaky smile. “Whatever he said, he means it. Stay out of this. Please. For my sake.”

  Abby nodded. She realized if she turned that guy in, Lauren’s life was liable to get a whole lot worse really fast. She decided to wait until they were both off and then confront Lauren again.

  The rest of the day passed slowly. Abby’s hands shook more than usual, and that sucked because her hands were the key to her job. When she finally clocked out and headed to the locker room, she ran into Lauren at her locker again. “What the fuck, Lauren? Why would you tell your boyfriend about our conversation?”

  Lauren jerked her gaze upward. “I didn’t tell him anything. Anton’s like omniscient or something. I just saw his guy talking to you and figured it had to do with me.”

  Abby shivered. “That was one scary asshole. You have to get yourself out of that mess. And fast.”

  “I’m fine.” Lauren’s movements were jerky as she hastily grabbed her purse from her locker and turned around. “Please, Abby. Stay out of this. I’ve got it.” She glanced up at the corner of the room.

  “You don’t have anything, Lauren. It’s not safe. Hell, it’s not even safe for you to go to your car right now.” Abby followed Lauren’s gaze and spotted the camera in the corner. Had Anton watched their earlier exchange? Is that how he knew Lauren had spoken to Abby? The idea made her cringe. Holy fuck. If that Russian guy had the clout to monitor the camera in the break room, what else was he capable of?

  “Don’t be silly. Let it go.” With that Lauren practically ran from the room.

  Abby took her time. She plopped onto the bench next to the lockers and reached for her stuff, wishing she’d done something different. Anything. Lauren was going to get hurt, and Abby had no idea what to do about it. She wasn’t stupid. She knew she’d been threatened. She also knew Lauren would suffer even more if she called the cops or reported the incident.

  Disturbed and exhausted, Abby grabbed her purse and headed for the parking garage. Minutes later she was in her Hyundai Santa Fe and pulling out of the lot.

  She drove with both hands on the wheel, heading home on rote memory, paying almost no attention to her surroundings. She couldn’t shake Lauren’s face from her mind. And she had no idea what to do about her friend’s problems. Nothing she could think of seemed wise. Suddenly, just outside of town, a car veered into her lane, headed straight toward her.

  Abby screamed. She had just seconds to yank the steering wheel to the right to avoid a head-on collision. And that was the last thing she remembered.

  »»•««

  As Vance pulled up behind the mangled car off the side of the road, Zane winced. The front end had hit the embankment so hard it had completely buckled. He would be surprised if the unconscious victim in the front seat lived, judging from the extent of the damage to the vehicle.

  Two police cruisers were already on the scene. An officer shouted toward Zane as he jumped down from the ambulance, grabbed his bag, and jogged faster than normal to the driver’s side.

  “What’cha got?” Zane asked.

  “Female. Mid-twenties. Unconscious. Lacerations to the head,” the officer said. He had managed to get the door open and was kneeling with both hands inside the car holding the woman’s head upright.

  “Fuck,” Vance said as he entered from the passenger side.

  “What?” Zane asked.

  “Dude, this is the same woman we pulled out from under the porch last week.”

  Zane lurched forward until he could peer into the car around the officer and took a deep breath. Fuck indeed. “I’ve got her,” he told the cop as he replaced the officer’s hand with his own and let the man wiggle out of the tight space.

  Vance called off her vitals. At least she was alive.

  “Abby. Can you hear me?” Zane asked.

  Nothing.

  Vance didn’t speak as he left Zane, crawling back out of the passenger seat. Zane knew he would be going to get the stretcher and the neck brace.

  “Abby. Baby,” he whispered, pulling her eyes open one at a time. No response. Her respirations were steady, her pulse also, but she didn’t wake up.

  It took less than five minutes to get her out of the car and into the ambulance, and then Vance sped away from the scene toward the hospital. Zane rode in the back, checking Abby’s pulse every few seconds. “Did anyone mention what happened?”

  “Yeah. Several people stopped. Apparently a car swerved into her lane, forced her off the road, and then righted itself and kept going.”

  “Seriously?” Zane almost screamed that one word. Who the fuck ran someone off the road and then kept going? That was insane. Unless it was premeditated. But no one in their right mind would want to hurt Abby. She was new to the area and too sweet for her own good.

  When they pulled up to the emergency room, Zane took the head of the stretcher and led the way. He shouted out her vitals to the doctor on call and followed them until they reached the exam room. It would be futile to attempt to enter with Abby. No way would the hospital staff allow it. But he sure as shit wasn’t going to leave the hospital. Instead he paced outside the door for a moment, running his hand through his hair.

  Vance stood next to him. “You okay, man?”

  “Nope.”

  “Didn’t think so. I’ll call the station and let them know you won’t be returning with me.”

  “Good.” Zane didn’t look up. He kept pacing.

  A nurse ran by, and Zane grabbed her arm. “Sorry. The woman I just brought in?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know her. Could you please let me know what’s happening?”

  “Sure, Zane. I’ll be right back.” She smiled. He didn’t even know her name. Christy or Chrissy maybe? She knew his.

  He paced some more. He barely knew Abby, and she’d totally turned him down last week, but he couldn’t stand the thought she might be seriously injured or worse.

  It took fifteen long minutes for the nurse to return, and this time he made a note of her nametag. Chrissy. “Hey, Zane. She’s awake.”

  Zane exhaled a long breath. Thank God. “Is she okay?”

  “She needs stitches in a few places and a staple or two. And she has a concussion, but she should be fine. She said it would be okay if you came back.”

  Zane wiped his hands on his pants. Why did the woman make him nervous?

  “She doesn’t have family nearby, and she didn’t want us to call anyone.”

  “Great. Thanks, Chrissy.” Zane followed her through the doors leading to the triage unit and into the curtained section where Abby lay on a narrow hospital bed.

  The first glance made him wince, thankfully before she noticed him. He schooled his rea
ction quickly before stepping up to her free side. A nurse stood at her other side, preparing a tray of sutures. “Abby.” He took her hand.

  She turned her head his direction and opened her eyes just enough to see him. She even lifted the corners of her perfect mouth in a slight smile. “Hey. You keep rescuing me.”

  “Yeah. If you keep this up, I’ll have years of job security.”

  She gave a short giggle. “God, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.” She reached with her free hand and touched her forehead. “How bad is it? Be honest.”

  “The car? Totaled. You’re gonna need a new one.” He grinned wide, knowing she hadn’t meant that at all.

  “My face, Zane.”

  He smiled again. “Not bad, baby.” He wasn’t lying. He knew from experience there was never any correlation between the amount of blood present and the size of a facial wound. It always looked so much worse than it was until they cleaned it up.

  The nurse to her other side explained. “The plastic surgeon is on his way, sweetie. He’ll fix you up. In a few weeks no one will know anything happened.”

  “See?” Zane squeezed her hand, threading his fingers through hers when she hung on to him.

  “Zane.”

  He knew she wanted more information. “Small cut above your eye won’t take more than a few stitches. Small cut on your chin about the same. They look clean. Nothing jagged.”

  “There’s two on top of your head too, sweetie,” the nurse added. “We’ll staple those. No one will see them.”

  “Staple?” Abby dug her nails into his hand. He didn’t give a shit.

  “It’s normal, baby. You’ll be fine. They’ll numb the area first.”

  The doctor came around the corner then. He smiled at Zane. “Randolf,” he greeted Zane. “You know Miss Burns?”

  “Yep. She’s a regular customer,” he joked.

  “That can’t be good.”

  “Two times. Two,” Abby said. “That hardly makes me regular.”

  “Yeah, but in as many weeks. And always I’m needed to extricate you from somewhere.”

  The doctor washed his hands and turned around, pulling his gloves on. “There’s a good story in there, I’m sure.”