by White, Pat
“What did he do to her?” Dude asked.
“It’s called a one-night stand,” J grunted, getting to his feet. “I screwed her brains out, and she loved it. Stupid broad, like all the rest.”
“What did you call her?” Dude gasped.
Jason took a few steps toward him. “A typical, stupid broad.”
Dude slugged Jason in the gut and he went down. The wind knocked from his lungs, J still managed to get up and charge Dude. This time he got knocked down from behind.
“The guy’s nuts,” Atomic Bomb said.
“He’s a bastard,” Floyd added.
J got up and staggered, then started for Floyd. Something must have snapped, because Floyd charged and put him in a headlock. The guys with wrestling backgrounds really knew how to maneuver. They should be recruited for his DEA team.
“Stupid bastard,” Floyd growled in J’s ear. The pressure against his neck tightened.
“Pop the blood vessels!” one guy said.
“Make him pass out and we’ll strip him down and drop him at Union Station.”
J struggled, but not that hard. He deserved this, deserved everything he got, and then some. Stars floated across his vision; his head grew light. Other than not wanting to turn Floyd into a murderer, Jason kind of wished he’d die right here.
“What the hell are you doing?” a male voice asked. Jason recognized the voice—Curt.
“He’s nuts,” Floyd said.
“He’s unconscious,” Curt argued.
“Don’t think so. If I let him go, he’s gonna freak out again and attack us.”
“Bullshit. Let him go,” Curt ordered.
Floyd ripped his arm from J’s neck and he collapsed on the cement floor. Trying to see past the stars blurring his vision, he sucked in a few shallow breaths and got to his feet.
Curt hovered close by with a questioning look on his face.
“Your sister quit,” Dude Law said.
“Yeah, I know,” Curt responded.
“Did you know I seduced her, screwed her all night long and she still begged for more?” Jason taunted.
Dude and the Bomb charged him. All three of them hit the ground with a thud. A fist to J’s gut stole his breath once, twice. After that he didn’t care what happened.
“Enough!”
Curt pulled the two wrestlers off of him. The warmth of blood oozed from his split lip, and he suspected he’d cracked a rib or two. Not enough.
“Everyone out,” Curt ordered.
“You’re in trouble now, asshole,” Floyd laughed, looking down at J. “This guy knows moves that cause chronic pain and leave no marks. Come on, let’s let big brother set things right.”
J leaned against the lockers. His right eye started to swell and his lip felt twice its normal size.
Curt studied him. “I asked around at the school and got some leads on the steroids.”
Jason grunted, wiped blood from his mouth.
“You’re a stupid son of a bitch,” Curt said.
“So I’ve been told.”
Curt’s eyes suddenly grew wide. “Holy shit. You love her, don’t you?”
J glanced at his bloodied hand. “Yeah, so what?”
“You picked a fight because you felt guilty about hurting her. Why don’t you just tell her the truth?”
“The truth never works that good for me.”
Curt shook his head. “Maybe it’s time you try again. I don’t know what happened to you, but you’ve gotta believe it’s safe to trust people, especially my family. We’re like Labrador retrievers: loyal as hell to our friends.”
“After everything I’ve done?” J argued.
“Just like Labs, we’re very forgiving.”
J touched his lip. “Whatever. I’ve got a case to solve.”
Curt nodded. “Good, solve this thing so you and my sister can get on with your lives.”
“It’s too late.”
“Yeah?” Curt extended his hand and pulled J to his feet. “Maybe you’re right. If there’s one thing my sister hates, it’s a quitter.”
* * *
Sandy couldn’t believe it. He loved her. In his own warped way, Jason McBain loved her.
She stood outside the door, listening, hoping to hear enough so she could walk away from him for good. Fingering her rose quartz charm, she heard him admit to using her.
She heard the scuffling, the punches and crashes, and fought the urge to break it up.
It sounded like J was picking the fights, yet not hitting back. He’d told her about his military training. She knew he could defend himself against four men.
Then Curt forced the truth out of him—Jason loved her.
She closed her eyes. He took those beatings because he was punishing himself. If he’d only been honest…
She understood his problems with trusting people, yet she couldn’t fix that for him. She couldn’t make Jason trust her, and she couldn’t make him follow his heart. He had to do that all by himself.
Curt and Jason’s voices grew louder, and she realized they were walking toward the door. She rushed down the hall and ducked into the closest room, the costume room. A smile curled her lips. She couldn’t help it. He loved her.
“You bitch!” a woman cried.
Sandy turned in time to see a shelving unit falling in her direction. She dropped her box and jumped out of the way, slamming against the cement floor.
“What the hell?” she said, dazed.
“What’s going on in there?” Curt called through the door.
“We’re all fine,” Missy called out.
Sandy started to cry out, but Missy climbed on top of her and shoved a scarf into her mouth.
“You sure?” Curt called.
“We’re fine!” Missy sang back. “Me and Floyd are having a little fun!”
Sandy’s eyes burned. Damn it, what the hell was going on?
Missy listened for a few minutes, then got up and locked the door.
“It’s always been about you,” Missy started. “‘Sandy’s so smart,’ he’d say, ‘why can’t you be more independent like Sandy?’ Sandy, Sandy, Sandy.”
Sandy scooted into a sitting position against the wall and ripped the scarf out of her mouth. Floyd’s valet was having a mental breakdown.
“Calm down, Missy.”
“They think I’m stupid, that I don’t have a brain in my head.” Missy towered over her. “But I got your boyfriend arrested, I nearly hit you with the car and I got your hero brother arrested, too.”
Oh, God. The steroid case—Missy was the drug dealer.
“Why ... why would you do that?” Sandy asked.
“Why?” she said, as if it were the dumbest question in the word. “Because then Floyd will love me. He’ll see how smart I am. I’m making tons of money selling steroids. Didn’t know that, did you?”
Sandy shook her head. Play along, buy time, signal for help.
“I’m making so much money I can put myself through school and buy Floyd a new car.” She patted Sandy on the head. “I told him I’d inherited money.” She giggled. “Isn’t that perfect?”
“But the drugs hurt kids,” Sandy said.
“No they don’t, silly girl. Some of our wrestlers have been taking them for years. I started borrowing a little here and there from this duffel and that suitcase. The boys don’t even notice. Then I developed my own connection. I make so much money, and no one can catch me.” She tapped her forefinger to her lips. “But now you know. I must do something about that.”
Missy giggled and took a few steps toward the sewing table.
Sandy bolted for the door, but Missy tripped her and Sandy went down, knocking the air from her lungs. As she struggled to breathe, she noticed Missy pull a syringe out of her glitter purse.
“I’ve kept this handy in case someone figured out what I was doing.”
“Missy, don’t,” was all Sandy could say. She didn’t want to know what was in that syringe.
“It won’t h
urt. Honestly, doctors are the worst patients. It’ll wipe away your memory.” She shrugged. “It’s not like it will kill you or anything.”
“Jason!” Sandy cried, her back pressed against the door.
“Don’t be a poop,” Missy said. “You owe me this much, to go to sleep and forget everything.”
The woman was insane, giggling as she closed in on Sandy.
Sandy eyed the needle, trying not to panic. Whatever was in there, it couldn’t be good. It was probably an overdose of something—who knew what. But if it did wipe her mind clean, that meant…she’d forget Jason.
Sandy lunged and knocked Missy to the ground, hoping to jar the needle from her hand.
“Jason!” she cried, hoping he’d hear her cries for help.
She scrambled off Missy and groped for a weapon but only came up with a feather boa. Rolling on the floor, she got behind Missy, wrapped the boa around the woman’s neck and tied it to a metal dress form. Then Sandy raced to the other side of the room and caught her breath.
Missy swung her arms and kicked her legs. A stiletto shoe flew over her head, nearly hitting Curt and Jason as they broke down the door
“What the hell?” Jason said, dodging the shoe.
Both men stared at Missy as she flailed and screeched, tied to the form by a red feather boa. It was a surreal sight.
“I got you! I got you!” she cried, pointing at Sandy.
And that’s when she felt the prick on her arm. She glanced down and saw the needle dangling from her blouse.
“Oh, God.” Her knees started to buckle, but Jason caught her.
“Sandy, sweetheart, what the—damn!”
She felt the needle being pulled out of her skin.
“Get an ambulance!” J ordered Curt.
Missy kept swinging and shouting in the background.
“What did you give her?” Jason cried.
Jason, the man Sandy loved, the man she might not recognize when she woke up. Her heart raced.
“Jason, look at me,” she said. If she was going to lose her mind, this was her last chance to tell him she loved him.
That she’d forgiven him.
“Hang in there, honey.” He brushed hair from her cheek. “It’ll be okay.”
“If I don’t wake up…” Her eyes watered. “I want you to know, I love you. I love you, Jason, and I forgive you.”
“Don’t, Sandy—don’t you go to sleep on me. Sandra, focus on my eyes!”
But his voice sounded like it echoed through a long tunnel, ordering, shouting. Demanding. Suddenly, she was so damned tired.
“I love you, too. Do you hear me?” he said.
She felt herself smile and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Twenty
Checking on Sandy the next day, Jason paced to the kitchen and back again, afraid to glance at the couch where she lay sound asleep, swaddled in blankets.
“You’re going to wear out her carpet,” Curt said, reading the newspaper at the dining room table.
“I can’t help it,” J said. “I wish she’d wake up.”
“Look,” Curt put down the paper. “The doctor said she would probably sleep on and off for the next twenty-four hours.”
“If there was anything dangerous in that drug Missy gave her—”
“There wasn’t, okay? That nutcase nailed her with a sedative. That’s it, nothing that’ll do serious damage. You need to chill out.”
Jason marched to the front door and back to the couch. Twice.
“So,” Curt said, glancing at the paper. “You got your girl, case closed?”
Jason stared him down, wondering if he’d intended the double meaning. “Yes, Missy will be prosecuted for the distribution of steroids. Could get ten years.”
“In the nuthouse,” Curt muttered. “Guess you’ll get a promotion.” Curt sounded pleased, but as Jason watched Sandy sleep, he realized getting his own team wasn’t as important as it had once been.
“Whatever,” he said, picking up his pace.
“A promotion would make you look like a good provider to the family.”
“The family?” Jason scoffed. “The people I betrayed? Your family isn’t going to want anything to do with me.”
“I told you, Jason, we’re loyal.” Curt looked up from the paper. “And forgiving—especially when you’re trying to stop the distribution of a drug that kills wrestlers every year.”
But was Sandy forgiving? She said as much before she passed out on him. She said she loved him. What if she was out of her mind, drifting in la-la land, and didn’t know what she was saying?
He kneeled beside her. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips.
“Mom would sing to her to wake her up in the morning,” Curt offered.
“I can’t sing.”
Curt raised an eyebrow.
“Fine.” He searched his brain for a song and came up with Jingle Bells. After a few minutes of his horrible singing, and Curt’s snickers, Sandy slowly opened her eyes. God, how he’d ached to see those green eyes again, open, awake, and sparkling with energy.
“You’re singing,” she said.
“Yeah, sorry.”
She smiled.
His heart raced.
And he knew he’d give his life for this woman. He’d never lie to her or withhold anything from her again.
“Hey, kid,” Curt said, looking over Jason’s shoulder at Sandy.
“You’re here, too?”
“Had to keep this guy from having a nervous breakdown.”
“Well, since you’re okay.” Jason started to get up. He didn’t want to assume that she’d really forgiven him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Curt shoved him back to his knees. “You’ve got major groveling to do. Wish I could hang around to watch, but Skip’s got a soccer game.” Curt nudged J in the shoulder, much like a brother would. “I’m off. You two have fun.” Curt quirked his eyebrows twice, and left.
“What happened?” Sandy said.
J’s gut clenched. “You don’t remember?”
“Um...”
“What do you remember?” He squeezed her hand.
“It’s a bit hazy.”
Damn, the doctor had been wrong. She was suffering side effects from the drug. Then she winked and shot him a smile that warmed his heart.
“You’re messing with me,” he said. “You’re okay, right?”
“I’d be better if you were on the couch with me.”
“I need to say something first.” He stroked her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about suspecting Curt. I should have.” He searched her eyes.
“I understand,” she said. “Getting the bad guy is the most important thing to you because it proves you aren’t like your father.”
For the first time, he felt relieved that she could read his feelings.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I could never have fallen in love with a man who’d run off on someone who needed him. That’s not you, Jason.”
She loved him. For real.
Interlacing her fingers behind his neck, she pulled him forward for a kiss. Her lips were warm and moist, and they tasted so damned perfect.
Suddenly, he was on the couch with her, his hands framing her cheeks, his lips gently caressing her lips. This was his chance to show her how much he loved her. He broke the kiss and leaned back to look into her eyes. His medallion caught in a few strands of her hair.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be.” She untangled herself and slipped the chain up and over his head. “It’s not your fault, Jason. Your father leaving, Missy attacking me, none of it’s your fault, but you have to believe that in your heart.”
He stared into her green eyes and for the first time in his life he let go of the father guilt, the son guilt, all of it.
He scooped her up and headed for the bedroom. This time he’d do things like a gentleman—tenderly, cherishing every touch, every breath.
“You don’t need this anymor
e.” Sandy dangled his medal of St. Michael over his shoulder. “How about I get you a new one?” She let it fall to the ground, and Jason heard Madame Bovary scramble to attack it.
The spell was finally broken. He could choose to be his own man, not a knockoff of his father. He’d chosen that in the past, but the special woman he held in his arms helped him realize he could make another choice.
“I’m going to make love to you,” he whispered against her cheek. “Love, not sex.”
“Love is good,” she said.
“You’re better,” he replied.
And he’d spend the rest of his life showing her how good they’d be together.
THE END
Don’t miss the first two books in the Ringside Romance series:
GOT A HOLD ON YOU
RING AROUND MY HEART
Discover other titles by Pat White at Amazon.com:
http://www.amazon.com/Pat-White/e/B001H6MQY4/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
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Web Site: http://www.patwhitewriter.com
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Dear Reader,
Thank you very much for your purchase of “Love on the Ropes.” If you enjoyed Sandy and Jason’s story and would like to leave a review on Amazon, I’d be so very grateful. Reviews help independent authors spread the word about our stories.
Keep smiling!
Pat White
