by Gemma James
Jax appeared at my side and shoved clothing and a water bottle into my arms. As he took a long drag on his cigarette, I downed the lukewarm water in a single gulp.
“Alex okay?”
“Still sleeping like a baby,” he said, exhaling smoke through his nose.
“Thought you were quitting that shit.” I gestured at his cigarette with the empty bottle before dropping it in the duffle he’d set at my feet.
“I did, but then I started again.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry, I’ll quit again tomorrow.”
With a shake of my head, I snickered. We’d had this conversation for days. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants over my red trunks and eyed the exit.
“So,” he said, drawing on the butt one last time before snuffing the end out between two fingers. “I only caught the last few minutes, but it looked like you were off your game. You still nailed it though. Congrats, man.” His words rose above the cacophony of voices, the exchange of money and drugs. This place was a fucking pit, and I hated every second of it.
Except for that moment when I choked the fuck out of the sucker in the cage with me. The release of endorphins made it easier to sleep at night. Sometimes, it even chased away the nightmares.
“Another night, another dime,” I said. Big fucking deal. I grabbed a towel from the duffle and wiped the sweat and blood from my face. Sliding my arms through the sleeves of a navy blue hoodie, I pushed my feet into a pair of sneakers. My gaze veered to the exit again.
I had more important shit to worry about than tonight’s precarious win. I could see nothing but Alex, think of nothing beyond her body restrained on my bed. Alone and vulnerable.
Holy fuck, I had to get out of here.
“I’ll go collect,” Jax said. He knew. One look into my wild, feral face, and he knew that I needed to be with Alex on that damn boat. Of course he did—he’d given me the heads up about Zach’s escape. I’d pushed ninety the whole way to Portland, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. When she’d walked through that door…
Fuck, relief didn’t even begin to describe it.
Adrenaline still pumped through my blood, stringing me so tight I might snap in two. Six fucking months without her had nearly killed me. Fighting in this damn cage tonight instead of being with her was killing me, but I hadn’t been able to back out. Not without pissing off some guys no one dared piss off.
I slung the duffle over my shoulder and elbowed a path around people, ignoring congratulatory high fives and murderous glares. The steady din of voices receded, and that fucking door ballooned in my eyesight.
I wanted through it, now. Wanted across the field to the dock where my boat called to me. Where the sexiest temptress on the planet, in the fucking universe, waited with her wrists and ankles bound by leather, body helpless and begging to be stripped bare.
We both knew our true bindings; the invisible line, born of pain and devastation, which connected our hearts. Nothing on Earth could sever that, not even six months, during which I’d tumbled down the path of no return. Even so, I’d known.
Going back for her wasn’t an if—it was a when. But I never thought Zach would be the reason for going back. If not for his escape, I’d still be battling my inner demons and convincing myself she was better off without me. And maybe she was. I considered the various layers between us—space, doors, even the clothes hiding her body. The horrific things I’d done. That last layer was thick and not as easy to overcome as opening a door or ripping material apart. She was going to hate me, not only for what I’d done—leaving her alone and believing I was dead—but for what I wanted to do, the urges I could no longer contain.
Like squeezing the fucking life out of her brother as soon as I tracked down his ass. I should’ve killed him six months ago. Then it would be done. Over with. No longer an issue I had to agonize about. And I’d never have to worry about him going after Alex again.
My heart pounded in my ears as the exit drew closer. I was mere feet from it when someone grabbed my shoulder. I whirled with a lethal scowl and found Nate, Shelton’s lapdog.
“Boss wants to talk to you,” he said, pointing toward the back of the barn. “He’s upstairs.”
Damn it. Swallowing a frustrated sigh, I gestured at Nate to lead the way, figuring Shelton wanted to needle me about my last minute decision to quit fighting after tonight. I followed Nate through the haze of tobacco toward the back of the barn and climbed the stairs to the loft. Shelton stood ramrod straight, his tatted arms crossed as he watched the mayhem from above everyone else.
We’d known each other back in the day when life was simpler. When I’d had a fucking future. Connecting with him again after all these years had been a fluke, yet it couldn’t have happened at a better time. I’d come to the area a broken man, a shell of who I used to be, so I could be near my son. Will’s grandparents were raising him now, and though I wasn’t about to disrupt his life with my toxic presence, I’d needed to see how he was coping after Nikki’s death.
I hadn’t planned on sticking around long, but then Shelton drew me into his world of underground fighting, and the allure of stepping back into the cage proved too powerful.
But I had no intention of dragging Alex into this scene. It was time to move on, especially now that Zach was free.
“You wanted to see me?” I asked.
Shelton didn’t acknowledge my presence until I was practically breathing down his thick neck. His mouth thinned into a line, and his fetch boy must have taken that as a cue to leave because the little shit was already halfway to the staircase. Shelton’s shrewd gaze lingered on the people huddled in drunken groups around the cage.
He scratched his nose for a moment. “Still set on leaving all this?”
“I’ve got other priorities.”
“I’m gonna wager Zachariah De Luca has something to do with these sudden priorities.”
“You know something I don’t?” I asked, wearing my best neutral expression.
“My guys found him sneaking onto the property during the fight. That’s what I know.”
It was amazing how a single sentence had the power to ice my blood. I spun on my heel, ready to bolt down the stairs, but Shelton grabbed my shoulder.
I shrugged him off. “Alex is alone—”
“She’s fine, right where you left her. My guys made sure of it.” He stepped back and let out a breath.
I stared at him, slack-jawed. I didn’t want to know how he knew that, but he seemed intent on telling me anyway.
“De Luca junior had some interesting things to say, I’ll give him that, but I always check shit out. Got a shock when I searched your boat. What are you doing with that girl?”
“Protecting her from him.”
He raised a brow. “Looks like you’ve got a problem then.”
I looked around, feeling as if we were being overheard, but everyone was below, lost to the adrenaline left over from the fight. Not to mention the booze and drugs.
“Where’s he at now?” There was no point pussy-footing around this. Too much was on the line, mainly, Alex’s life.
He cocked his head. “A place where he can’t cause trouble.” Shelton paused. “I think we can help each other out.”
“How so?” A foreboding disquiet festered in my gut.
He turned his back to the crowd, and we moved further into the shadows. “Abbott and I have history. Let’s just say we don’t get along. He was a fucking power-hungry shark in the biz.” Shelton shook his head. “Shoulda been a goddamn bottom feeder.”
I let out an obvious sigh. Everyone knew Shelton liked to string people along with his talk, but I didn’t have time for his bullshit.
He planted a hand on my shoulder and leaned in. “We got a good thing going here, but the deep pockets are getting antsy. They want something different, something more exciting than you winning every damn match. Since you’re wanting to bow out, I need you to do it with a bang.”
“Get to the point, Shelton.”
“I’ll make sure
you get your hands on De Luca junior before your buddy sends him packing to Mexico again.”
Damn Jax. Six months ago, he’d gotten to Zach before I could. Weeks later, when he returned—a total mess over not finding any leads on his sister—I hadn’t had it in me to give him shit for interfering.
I shook off Shelton’s hand. “What the fuck do you want?”
He grinned. “It’s not what I want. It’s what you want. People talk, Mason. I heard you wanted that sonofabitch dead.”
“That’s my business.”
“As long as you’re living on my land, fighting in my cage, what you do is my business.” He paused, and the weight of that long beat roiled in my gut. “A match between two longtime rivals,” he said, raising a brow, “now that’s a fight. Personally, I think it’s the least you can do.”
I didn’t like owing people but owe him, I did. If not for him, I wouldn’t have a place to dock my boat, a cage to unleash my rage in, anonymity to hide behind. The network knew who I was—kind of hard to hide while fighting before their eyes. But the world at large thought I was missing, and before tonight, Alex had believed I was dead.
But Shelton was asking too much. The only cage Zach deserved to step into was the kind that locked from the outside. “What if I say no deal?”
He swiveled his head from side to side, making his neck pop. “I know you don’t want him getting his hands on your girl because of a little thing like pride. If you back out, he wins by default, and the prize for him is freedom.”
I jerked forward, barely keeping myself in check. “Do you have any clue what he’s capable of?”
“I know what you’re capable of. You want a shot at him, well here’s your chance.” He lowered his voice. “No ref will stop you this time. Not in this match.”
I wasn’t a killer by nature. At least, I didn’t like to think I was. But I protected what was mine, and Alex was mine. I thought of all the hell we’d been through, all the fighting just to fucking survive, and how it all tied back to Zach. I could start another war, make another enemy, or I could do what Shelton wanted and gain an ally against Zach—do what I should have done six fucking months ago.
Terminate an obsession that would never stop coming.
“He’s fucking psychotic. I can’t risk him coming after Alex in the meantime.”
“I’ve got the situation contained.”
I fisted my hands. “I wanna see him.”
“You’ll see him in the cage soon enough.”
“No,” I said, giving an indomitable shake of my head. “Until I see the bastard for myself, we don’t have a deal.”
He ran both hands through his graying hair. If not for that revealing sign, no one would believe he was a day over thirty-five. “Fine. Swing by here tomorrow around noon. I’ll have him here.”
I pulled in a deep breath to calm my anger. “I thought you were above this shit. This is blackmail, Shelton.”
“This is business. So do we got a deal?”
The type of match he had in mind wouldn’t be another watered-down fight in the barn. Maybe, if things went my way for once in my fucking life, I could keep Jax from finding out about our arrangement. Zach couldn’t be whisked away to a Mexican prison if I killed him first.
With an impatient sigh, Shelton stuck his hand out. “What do you say?”
“Yeah, we’ve got a fucking deal.” I ignored his offer to shake on it. Nothing was set in stone, especially when it came to Zach fucking De Luca.
Shelton’s lips curved upward. Anyone not on hyper-alert wouldn’t notice that twitch, but it was there. “Thought you’d see things my way. Until tomorrow then.”
I took the stairs two at a time, my fear for Alex’s safety heightened. I nearly launched myself through the door, but Jax caught up to me as I pulled it open. A draft of chilly air rushed inside, carrying the scent of the ocean. We were several miles inland, but that distinctive part salt, part fish smell infused the air.
“What’d Shelton want?” Jax asked.
I stepped outside and hastened my stride. He followed on my heels, mere paces behind me. I threw a glance over my shoulder. “Nothing to worry about.”
We crossed the field toward the dock, our sneakers sinking into land soggy from the downpour of last week. Fog drifted low on the ground, and the constant mist that was more annoying than rain clung to our clothes. I burrowed into my hoodie as the urgency to get to Alex spurred me on. I nearly broke into a run.
“Hey, slow down, man. Where’s the fucking fire?”
We approached the dock, and a small niggle of relief tore through me. The boat appeared untouched. I moved down the wooden planks, my feet skidding over the slick surface, and stepped aboard. Preparing for the sway, I let the craft settle under my sneakers before descending the stairs into the cabin, through the galley, past the living area, straight to the bedroom.
To her.
I curled my fingers around the knob and turned, my breath stalling in my lungs. A second passed with an ominous preamble, and a million what-ifs nagged me.
What if she was gone? What if Zach had already gotten to her? What if she’d awakened sooner than anticipated and had somehow broken free of the restraints?
What if she fucking hated me?
The door creaked open, and all my fears escaped in an exhale that encapsulated the very meaning of the word relief. Right where I’d left her, indeed. I drank up the sight of her like a man dying of thirst. Quiet footfalls sounded behind me.
“Why are you so jumpy?” Jax asked, his voice low as if he sensed the need to whisper. “There’s no way Zach found this place so fast.”
But he had. How, I didn’t know.
Backing away slowly so I wouldn’t wake her, I followed him into the galley and went straight for the beer. Jax was always up for a good brew. Shit, after the day I’d had, maybe I was too. I grabbed two bottles from the fridge and handed him one.
“So what’s up with Shelton?” he asked, popping the cap.
I did the same with my beer and took a drink before answering him. “He wants to do something different for the next fight.” That much was true. “I don’t know all the details yet.” Also true…sort of.
If I wasn’t going completely fucked-up insane, Shelton was hinting that only one of us would walk out of there alive.
Jax drew on the longneck, eyeing me, assessing how much bullshit I was spewing. I wouldn’t fool him for long, but hopefully he’d buy it long enough for me to battle Zach in the last match the piece of shit would ever fight.
3. TATTOO
Rafe
I didn’t like lying to Jax, regardless of our rocky history, but I didn’t see how I had much choice. We stood firmly planted on opposite sides of the fence when it came to handling Alex’s brother. After three beers and more silence than either of us could stand, he left. We weren’t comfortable with the elephant between us—the one we never spoke of. Last thing I wanted was to stomp all over his pride, so I tried not to rub Alex’s presence in his face.
But he knew I was going to fuck her six ways to Sunday.
And I knew it bothered him, but shit, he was the closest thing I had to a friend. To a family, for that matter. Even after the hell he’d put Alex and me through, I couldn’t cast him aside. Our bond ran too deep.
Too bad he wanted it to run deeper.
I double-checked the locks, made my way to the bedroom, and peeked at the gun I’d hidden an arm’s length from my pillow. Rounding the bed, I came to a standstill at the end. The longer I stood like a statue, my cock hard as fuck as I feasted on the sight of her, the more I wanted to shake her awake.
As if sensing my presence, she stirred, though she couldn’t move with her ankles and wrists secured to the anchors on the wall and floor. Grabbing her today had been a last minute emergency, but I’d been preparing for this day for a while, like a paranoid lunatic building a fallout shelter. Except I hadn’t been preparing for another threat against us—I’d simply wanted to be ready when the da
y came that I wouldn’t be able to stay away from her anymore.
Not if…when.
So I’d mounted anchors for restraining her, had tucked away whips, paddles, and other implements in drawers—ready to deliver painful strikes—along with clothing and barely-there lingerie. Assuming I let her wear anything at all.
Her low groan brought me back from the dark pit of fantasies that teased from the edges of my mind. The drugs were wearing off, but not fast enough for my liking. I tugged on the chain to the overhead light. Her lids fluttered, revealing two jade eyes that zeroed in on me.
She blinked several times then parted her lips. “Where are we?”
A simple question, untainted by fear or doubt. That’s how much she trusted me. Shit, how I wanted to be worthy of her trust. If anyone was fearful here, it was me because six months apart had taught me only one thing; I needed her with every fiber of my sadistic being.
“You’re home.” I peeled the hoodie from my torso and tossed it on the floor, then I lifted a knee and slowly climbed onto the bed. Crawling over the mattress like a lethal predator, I settled my knees between her spread thighs.
“Where’s home?” she asked, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her dark curls trailed behind her in a riot on the pillow. I fisted my hand in those silky locks, keeping her immobile, and teased her mouth with mine. She darted her tongue out to wet her lips. Fuck, she was already killing me, and I hadn’t even kissed her yet.
“Your home is underneath me, sweetheart.” I inched back, parted her jacket single-handedly, and took in the cleavage peeking from between the unbuttoned collar of her purple top. I couldn’t help but wonder how many assholes had raped that expanse of flesh with their eyes as she went about her day.
She pulled at her bindings, her neck straining as she eyed the cuffs trapping her wrists. “Afraid I’ll run?”
“I don’t know,” I said, quirking a brow in challenge. “Will you?” Grabbing her chin, I ran my tongue along the seam of her mouth, but she twisted her head to the side. “You’re mad at me,” I said.
She scoffed, refusing to meet my eyes. “Hurt, mad. Take your pick, Rafe.”
