Or maybe I just liked lying to myself.
Chapter 21
Gray
The hot water poured over me, but I couldn’t get warm. I swear my blood would never run smoothly again.
An aching pit in my stomach knew Sonya Ivanovs wasn’t going to get back up again. There was something wrong with her eyes and I couldn’t place what it was at the time, but there in the tiled shower… I knew.
That was a loss of life. That’s what it looked like when someone wasn’t long for this world.
I’d done that. I couldn’t breathe again as I bent over, water pounding on my back and splattering off my skin. Even though I wretched, nothing came up. I didn’t even get the relief of bile as I dry heaved, over and over.
After that bout of nausea passed, I stood, pushing from my thighs with my hands where I’d braced them as I bent over.
The hot water sprayed my chest and I pushed my still braided but now soaking hair behind my shoulder and took a deep breath of the steam-filled air.
I was breathing while I knew my opponent wouldn’t be. Why had I tried the new-also-illegal move? Why couldn’t I just leave well-enough alone? There was a reason some moves shouldn’t be used.
I blamed the heat on my cheeks on the shower, but when I turned off the shower, the tears didn’t stop. Eventually, I’d have to admit that I was shaken by the loss.
I didn’t even get a chance to check on her.
I grabbed a towel from the shelves and squeezed the white terry around my braid. The water dripped behind me, the only sound in the whole of the smaller-sized locker room.
On the other side of the room, the door opened, letting someone in. Bruce had locked the door. I couldn’t help hoping it was him.
I shoved the now-wet towel into the hamper by the metal shelves and grabbed another, wrapping it around my body and tucking the ends under my armpits.
“Bruce? Do you know what’s going on?” I padded across the tiled flooring toward my locker and stopped moving at the sight of Stryker, Brock, and Gunner standing at the far end of the aisle.
Jutting my jaw to the side, I stared them down. “What are you doing in here? In case you missed it, this is the ladies’ room.” I doubted they cared. I doubted they understood boundaries.
Right then wasn’t the moment for a confrontation. For all I knew, they were there to gang rape me. Hadn’t they proved they had nothing but my torment on their minds?
As intriguing as the thought of being with all of them was, I’d most likely just killed someone in the ring. Mentally, I wasn’t where I needed to be to take them on sexually, physically, or even mentally.
I shook my head, my guard up, but my fatigue higher.
They didn’t speak as they watched me move to my locker and stop there.
“What do you want?” I opened the already unlocked door to my things and glanced at them, taking in Stryker’s thunderous expression and Gunner and Brock’s neutral features.
They saw the fight. They would know I was a killer and a cheat. I hadn’t meant to kill her with the move. I just wanted to try it since someone had once pulled a foot stomp on me. I reached into my locker and pulled out the clothing I’d arrived in that night which seemed light years ago.
They still didn’t answer and I turned to face them, my towel still in place but my patience wearing thing. “I just got out of the shower and I obviously need to change. Are you just going to stand there and watch?” The challenge fell from my lips as if I had a weird wish to be observed. Maybe part of me did. Maybe part of me thought I deserved everything odd and uncomfortable now that I’d hurt someone else.
Brock scowled, his eyebrows pulling together as he folded his arms. “If you get more naked than you are…” He didn’t finish his sentence and instead turned and walked toward the door. He must have stopped there and waited because I didn’t hear the door open or close.
I shifted my gaze from where Brock had been to stare at Gunner. Would he take me up on the challenge? He was the only one I’d kissed and the only one I swore was my friend, who had my back.
He shifted his gaze from me to glance quickly at Stryker and then back at me. Gunner’s eyes scanned me and then he, too, turned away, tucking his hands in his pockets as he walked out of view of the aisle.
Now there was one and I slowly turned my gaze to him.
Stryker’s fury hadn’t receded, but it mingled with the shadows of concern. His folded arms didn’t give off the appearance of worry, but there was something in the way he had his head tilted toward me that broke down a piece of my guard.
I couldn’t cry in front of him. I couldn’t falter. I had to be strong. I also had to get dressed. He wasn’t moving. “Are you going to give me privacy?”
If I told him I needed to cry, would he go away? I couldn’t tell anyone that. I wasn’t a crier – ignoring the fact that I just cried through an entire shower. I couldn’t let Stryker see me like that. He’d use it against me. Anyone would.
Instead of walking away or even turning his back, Stryker strode down the aisle on the side of the bench running between the banks of parallel lockers. He dropped his arms when he reached me and stared down at me as if studying me for a test that was coming up.
I couldn’t help looking up at him, my face tight and arms crossed over my waist. He shouldn’t be in there. I should be dressed already. Brock and Gunner weren’t far either.
Stryker could do whatever he wanted to me and with his huge muscular size so near, I suddenly was overcome with fear that he actually could do whatever he wanted and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t run. His cousins were there blocking the way.
Did I just give into the chaos of the night and give over? If I let him rape me, would it make it less painful?
My shoulders slumped forward and I blinked back tears. Wiping at my cheeks, I lifted my chin and met his gaze again. “If you’re going to rape me, just get it over with.” The challenge was there, but so was the power I’d claimed back by just accepting that I couldn’t change anything. I stepped back, slumping to sit on the bench and rocking forward until my elbows were braced on my towel-covered knees.
Stryker looked into my locker and then shut the door, moving around to the other side of me where I’d stacked my clothes. He rifled through the pile, pulling my black panties from where I’d tucked them in the top of my jeans.
What was he going to do with my underwear? I looked up, watching him. Was he going to strangle me with them? I’d heard about the weird fetishes men could have. I’d never thought it would be applied to the first time I was used by a guy. I knew a lot of girls at Timbercreek who had been date raped. Many shrugged it off because who would believe them?
Who would believe me?
Stryker knelt down at my feet, holding my underwear in his big hands, making the lace seem even more delicate. He slid it under one foot and then the other, before sliding the small piece of material up my legs and over my knees. He got to mid-thigh and glanced up at me, waiting for me to stand.
Holding my gaze on his face as if expecting him to do something worse, I swallowed and stood, hating my traitorous body for burning with his touch.
The warm tips of his fingers slid up the outside of my thighs, tugging my underwear into place under the towel. He reached behind me, adjusting the strap in back, but careful to keep his fingers from inadvertently touching anything else. I think I hated him for that.
He dropped the bottom hem of the towel, reaching next for my jeans and bending down to the ground again. He reached up, grabbing my hand and placing it unceremoniously on his shoulder for balance. This time he helped me lift each foot and place it carefully into the pant leg. I did as he silently instructed, fisting my hand in the material of his shirt and noting the hard strength of his muscles under my fingers.
He tugged a little more forcefully on my jeans, sliding them into place and buttoning the snap without looking. He held my gaze as he zipped me, the whirr of the zipper loud in the silence.
> My breathing was deep and measured. My vision was filled with him and I couldn’t look away. What would he do with the towel? Was he going to continue dressing me? Including my bra?
A tenderness in his eyes hypnotized me and I no longer worried he was going to rape me. Something about the reverent way he touched me left me feeling like he’d never let anything hurt me again – even though he was the reason I’d been harmed before. He was the reason my life was hell.
An amused smile lifted his lips as he took in the presence of the towel clutched in my hands.
In the back, the towel sagged, leaving my skin bare where my wet hair left a chilly trail.
Stryker reached out, slowly turning me to face away from him. The space between the bench and the lockers wasn’t that wide. I could feel his heat at my back and I suddenly felt even more vulnerable than I had before.
His fingers burned into the flesh of my biceps and I couldn’t help myself – I held my breath.
Running his knuckles down the backs of my arms, he tugged at the edges of the towel, pulling it from me with caution, like he doubted I would let him have its terry protection.
With even more hesitation, I untucked the towel from its secure position, more than aware as the cool air hit my nipples and my stomach. I inhaled sharply at its disappearance.
What if Brock or Gunner rounded the corner? They would see me without a shirt on. Suddenly, I’d never felt more exposed. Was that when Stryker was going to take advantage of me?
He reached down, pulling my black bra from the shrinking pile of clothes on the bench beside me.
He raised his arms on either side of me, boxing me in as he held up the bra by the shoulder straps. I placed my hands in the holes and he pulled it up past my elbows to their places on my shoulders.
I adjusted the cups as he hooked the back strap. I have no idea how he knew which set of hooks was the right one to use, but he nailed it. My bra fit snugly.
Suddenly, more protected than I’d been, I slowly turned to face him, staring at the breadth of his shoulders and chest. I glanced up, slowly lifting my gaze to his face and the sudden nearness of his lips so close to me.
The warmth of his chest permeated the small distance between us and I could feel him replacing the chill on my chest and abdomen.
I parted my lips, licking the bottom one because I didn’t know what to say and a huge part of me wanted to beg him to undress me. I couldn’t do that. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t.
He held my gaze, claiming my shirt and positioning it the right way before holding it out for me and helping me pull it on. He reached up, once my head and arms were through, and tugged my hair out of the collar of my shirt, setting the braid carefully against my back.
He studied me as if he wanted to make sure I was fine, but wasn’t sure how to ask.
The buzz of a phone broke the silence in the locker room. What did Gunner and Brock think was happening as Stryker had disappeared into my aisle? What were they hoping to happen?
Brock moved from the door, his boots announcing his plans before he did. He poked his head around the side of the lockers. “Stryker, we got word. The girl is dead. We gotta get her out of here.”
I closed my eyes and swallowed, clenching my fists at my side. My gut instinct had been right. Sonya Ivanovs was dead. I’d killed her.
Stryker reached down and shoved the rest of my things into my bag and hoisted it onto his shoulder. He studied me and turned back to Brock as Gunner joined him. “I’ll drive her truck. She’s not in a condition to make that trip right now. Clear the way. She’s coming out.”
Clear the way? Why would they need to clear the way? I didn’t question Stryker as he took my hand and led me through the locker room to the door. He bent his head to look at me. “Get ready, Gray. It’s a madhouse.”
Brock opened the door and the noise hit me like a slap in the face.
People lined the hallway both toward the dance and fight area of The Pike and also toward the back exit. They pushed and milled amongst each other, some groups five people thick and blocking the hall like a blocked artery.
At my appearance the crowd grew frantic, pushing in from either side and screaming in my direction. Hatred spewed from some, spittle clinging to the side of their mouths and their features twisting into unrecognizable masks. Others stared after me, their eyes wide as they yelled at me to go, run, get away.
What was I running from? I glanced up at Stryker, suddenly aware that he’d wrapped his arm around my back. The sides and rear of me were protected by the other two Jamesons. They created my own security detail and I was powerless to stop them or anyone else from the events rolling forward.
Stryker used his arm and blocked anyone from getting to me, pushing through the crowd as if he were pushing through clouds.
Claustrophobia threatened and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. The walls pressed in on us and the concrete flooring loomed.
Stryker tightened his hold on me and murmured in my ear. “If you’d been at Curly’s, like you were supposed to be, we would have already made it outside.”
I glanced sharply at his face, everything coming back into focus. Could he really be lecturing me at a time like that?
The smirk on his well-molded lips suggested that he already knew it wasn’t the time or place for told-you-so, but that he was doing it anyway.
I jerked my head in a short nod and growled, “Well, The Pike has been like a home to me. I can’t just abandon them.”
The moment we burst out of the exit doors; I could breathe. The fresh night air cooled my face and lungs as I breathed deeply. I pointed toward the parking lot perimeter of trees. “I’m over there.”
“We know.” Stryker lifted his chin in the direction of their shiny truck blocking the view of my little blue one. Of course, they knew.
The crowd milling around outside would see me soon. A television crew had already arrived. How long had I been in the locker room?
“Let’s go.” Stryker moved me toward my truck, tucking me in the passenger side door and buckling my seatbelt. He studied me for a moment and then shut the door, rounding to the other side and folding himself into the small driver’s seat. Somehow, he made the miniscule truck more masculine and it didn’t detract from his strength.
It was disturbingly hot.
“They’re going to be looking for you.” He started the truck engine and glanced at me.
“Who are? The police?” I would be arrested. I’d lose my shot at my dreams.
“No, the Russians.” He shifted into first and pulled out of the parking lot. The Russians. So much worse than just the police.
No one could protect me if that were the case.
Chapter 22
Stryker
Touching Gray could have been sensual, if I was the type of guy to take advantage of a girl’s vulnerabilities. While I relished in just the simplest of contact, I also recognized it wasn’t the time or the place to get a hard-on for her. She needed understanding and protection.
Gray’s phone buzzed as she sat beside me in her little LUV truck. I glanced at her as I shifted into third on the side street from The Pike. “Who is it?”
Gray curled her fingers around the phone whose screen was still glowing. She shook her head. “Sara. My friend. Her uncle won’t leave and she has nowhere to go.”
I’d have to ask for details on who Sara was later. As it was, if something caused Gray distress, I wanted it resolved now. “Where do I pick her up?”
“There’s not enough room in here.” Gray wiped at her cheeks and stared out the window. Her pride probably couldn’t handle the onslaught after what she’d been through already.
I’d never killed someone in a fight. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it, but her moves were badass and I’d been impressed with her skill in the ring. It wasn’t easy to impress me. It was an accident and there was nothing she could do about it.
I pulled out my phone, ringing Gunner as I shifted down to first as we p
ulled to a light. I spoke before he said anything. “I’m giving you Gray. Go where she says. You’re picking up Sara.”
“Got it.” Gunner didn’t ask for more details. He didn’t need them.
I passed the phone to Gray and she stared at me while telling Gunner where to pick up her friend. She handed the phone back to me and I shoved it to my ear. “Meet us at Declin. I’ll send out for an info party.” We hung up and I turned the wheel toward the freeway.
Declin was a crossroad between east and west – Idaho and Washington. The crossroad had a piece of property with a half-destroyed barn that had been painted a long time ago with a cursive Declin. I had a feeling it was missing an e at the end, but I couldn’t prove it and everyone had called it Declin for so long, the name would never change.
We met there with Timbercreek leaders sometimes. It was solid neutral ground and served its purposes. Tonight, it was going to help us get information on what had happened at the fight and also what was happening with a few shipments as well as get some deliveries out. The list was endless.
We fell into an easy silence. I shifted into fifth as we reached the truck’s max speed of sixty-five. It might have been able to go faster, but I wasn’t going to push it. Who knew what kind of a clunker Danielle had set up to be lost to Coach Asher?
The chill of the night tried to get to us, but the small truck fought it with an overactive heater that whirred while it worked.
Taking the next exit, I drove north toward Declin and the state line. We passed street lights which illuminated the inside of the cab for brief moments.
When I glanced at her hands sitting in her lap, I could easily remember what it’d been like to touch her as I dressed her. Suddenly, the discomfort I’d fought in the locker room came at me unbidden and I shifted in my seat. I wanted her and I didn’t know how to control it.
“Do you… I mean, do we know for sure that she’s dead?” Gray’s voice was different from what I was familiar with. The timid tone she offered beside me in the dark scared me in a way I wasn’t sure I could explain. Gray was a fighter, not someone to back down. She hadn’t backed down from me once. There weren’t many people who could claim that.
Her Challengers: A high school bully romance (Bad Boys of Jameson High Book 1) Page 19
