by Quinn, Cari
A smile lifted my mouth. Nope, I wouldn’t be getting that jacket back.
I jogged most of the way to Mia’s. The streets were quiet in the middle of the night, not counting the few groups of people crowding around stoops or outside of corner bodegas. I didn’t second-guess my actions until I stood in the vestibule of Mia’s rundown building. Should I have come? She was likely asleep. Carly too.
Instead of pressing the buzzer for their apartment, I hit the intercom for their place instead, hoping like hell that Carly—and only Carly—would be up. By now, Mia had probably crashed. The adrenaline spike after a fight was huge, but so was the eventual low. If she was anything like me, after a few hours she’d taken a hot shower, popped some ibuprofen, and hit the hay.
“This better be good,” came the feminine voice through the speaker. She didn’t swear so it wasn’t Kizzy, thank God. Plus, she sounded more perky than hard-edged, so that left Carly. “Do you know what time it is, unknown person?”
I looked at my watch. Almost three. I’d spent hours caught up in the horrors I’d found on the web. “Yeah, sorry, Carly. It’s Tray. Can I come up?”
“Tray?”
Had she forgotten me already? Some impression I’d made on the kid. “Fox,” I muttered. “Fighter dude? Mia’s…friend?”
“I remember you. I just wanted to hear you say ‘Fox’.” She giggled, though the sound seemed subdued. “Come on up.”
She rang me through the lobby, and I bypassed the elevator for the stairs. I had so much excess energy and pent-up frustration about the whole situation with Mia and her past that I could’ve run through Brooklyn twice and not gotten tired.
Then I saw Carly’s façade of cheerfulness as she opened Mia’s door and that energy surge turned into panic.
“What is it? Where is she?” I pushed her aside and barreled into the apartment. Nothing seemed out of place. Mia’s bleeding body wasn’t draped over the sofa. The kitchen counter, however, was filled with mixing bowls and pans, and the distinctly peanut buttery scent coming from the oven made my stomach growl. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“A, I don’t know your number. B, she was pretty upset after you left last night—and she shouldn’t have been, considering what y’all had been doing beforehand.” Carly closed the door with a firm click. “And C, why should I? Apparently, this getting beat all to hell stuff is her normal life. Yours too.”
I pivoted to face her. Carly stood with her back to the door, her hair in long swirling reddish-gold ponytails that spilled over her pink sweater and made her look about twelve. Except for her eyes. They were much older than her years and painfully direct as they bore into mine.
“Is she all right?” I asked carefully, unsure how to proceed. I didn’t know any more about dealing with kids than I did about taking care of people. Carly was closer to adult than child, but right now, I suspected she also needed taking care of, and that put her strictly in landmine territory. I gestured at the mess in the kitchen. “I’m assuming she must be or you wouldn’t be working through the Betty Crocker cookbook in the middle of the night.”
“I like to bake.” She pushed off the door and socked me in the stomach on her way to the kitchen. The move was so like Mia—Amelia?—that it made me grin before I remembered this wasn’t the time.
“So I see. And smell.”
“Want a cookie?” She slammed her cookie sheet on top of the ancient stove. Then she huffed out a sigh. “She’s sleeping. She’s fine, I think. I just don’t like seeing her like that. She shouldn’t be limping. Not ever aga—” She broke off and shook her head. “She just shouldn’t. Now eat a damn cookie.”
I walked over and ate a damn cookie. When I was done, she slapped another in my palm.
“The edges are a little burnt.” She sighed again and stared at the sheet of cookies.
“A little.” I chewed and swallowed, smiling at her steely-eyed glance. “But they’re great.”
“That’s better.” She turned to the refrigerator and took out a skinny carton. “Milk?”
Not just milk, but whole milk. What women didn’t stock skim? My kind of women, that was who.
“I shouldn’t. I’m training—” Ah, hell. I’d already blown my workout diet about ten times over. I shrugged. “Sure. Hit me.”
She filled a glass covered in painted daisies and slid it my way. We ate and drank in silence until she murmured, “Why do you do it?”
“Eat peanut butter cookies?” I asked, knowing full well what she meant.
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, I kinda got that.” I finished off the milk and set down the glass on their small circular table. If I extended my arms, I could reach just about everything in the kitchen. “I had stuff to prove.”
“And you did it by getting beat up?”
My mouth curved as I debated grabbing another cookie. They were warm, for Pete’s sake. “Mia and I, we beat other people.”
Carly lifted a brow. “You never lose?”
“Sure I do. Just not often. What else is in these cookies besides peanut butter?”
“Cashew butter. It’s my secret ingredient. What about my sister? How often does she lose?”
“I don’t know. We just met—” Yeah, probably not best to tell her little sister that I’d started having sex with Mia within a couple of days. “Recently. But I know she’s good.”
She smirked and wiped her fingers on a dishtowel hooked to her belt. “So you were calling out last night.”
Since I wasn’t sure whether or not that was true, I opted to change direction. “How long has she been asleep?”
“About an hour. She dragged in here with her cheek still bleeding and started cleaning the apartment. I told her I’d take care of it, but she couldn’t settle.”
“Sounds about right.” I went for broke and grabbed an undersized cookie at the edge of the tray. Extra crispy were the best. “Did she take something?”
“Yeah. Ibuprofen, I think, and something to help her sleep. She made me promise I wouldn’t leave and that I’d keep the doors locked.” Carly turned to wash a bowl in the sink. “The pills totally knock her out so she normally doesn’t take sleep stuff when she’s alone.”
“Understandable,” I said without thinking, shrugging at Carly’s sharp look. She must be wondering what Mia had told me. “Mind if I check on her before I go?”
She shrugged. “Sure. I guess. She doesn’t look too good right now.”
I set my glass in the sink. “She’s always beautiful.”
“You’re really gone on her, aren’t you?” She pursed her lips and nodded. “Good. I’m glad. She deserves someone like you.”
“Like me?” A semi-narcissistic, spoiled, rich boy brawler?
“Yes. Someone honorable and decent.” Smiling faintly, she reached up to grab my biceps. “And hella strong.”
Surprised by the sudden tension in my shoulders, I hunched them. “She might disagree with you. She thinks she can kick my ass.”
“Suicide mission,” she said quietly, reaffirming my thoughts.
Part of me wondered if Mia had known all along she would lose against me. If subconsciously she wanted to.
Carly edged back, but I withdrew the gloves from my sweatshirt pocket and pressed them into her hand. “I want you to give her these, but you have to be sneaky about it. She can’t know they came from me. Just pretend they were a gift from some old aunt or something and you hate them, okay?”
She stroked them reverently. “They’re butter-soft. They had to have cost a fortune.” She pulled them on.
“Just make sure she doesn’t connect them to me. And don’t tell her I was here tonight.” When she didn’t respond, I squeezed her fingers, now snugly wrapped in leather. “Promise me, Carly. It’s for her own good.”
“I don’t like lying to my sister.”
“There isn’t any other choice right now. Promise me.”
Nodding, she tugged off the gloves and set them on the solitary free spot on the
counter. The rest of it was crammed with bakeware. “I’ll keep your secret, Fox.” Her eyes twinkled. “Sorry, Tray.”
“Uh-huh.” I ruffled her hair and she squealed and pushed me back, much like Slater’s little sister did when I messed with her.
It made me smile. Some parts of life were still normal. Not everything was tragic.
Just too fucking much.
“Thanks. I’ll only be a couple minutes.”
I headed down the hall to Mia’s room and carefully opened the door. The drawn curtains let in a sliver of light that trailed over the spill of dark hair on her pillow. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with her and bury my face in it while I enfolded her in my arms. I’d never been a snuggler before. Now it was all I wanted.
She shifted onto her back and the nightshirt she wore inched up her thighs, leaving her almost on display. My mouth watered.
So snuggling wasn’t all I wanted.
Her stillness didn’t last long. She whimpered and stirred against the sheet bunched around her calves. I took a step toward her before I caught myself. Was she having a nightmare? A sleep aid might knock her out, but it wasn’t anesthesia. If I got in with her, she would know.
After a moment, she flipped on her other side. Her breathing became low and deep. She was truly asleep. The long, curved line of her back through thin cotton was too much of a temptation. I needed to hold her, even if she didn’t realize I was doing it. Especially then. For once, I didn’t want her to resist the comfort I so wanted to give.
It was worth the risk.
I toed off my sneakers and eased her aside, murmuring softly when she kicked out. She soon dropped back into sleep, and I nudged her closer to the wall so I could sort of half-lie down beside her. She smelled like soap as she usually did, clean and crisp. Innocent. How she could still have some innocence left inside her after what she’d endured was one of the world’s mysteries, but I thanked God for it.
“Never again,” I whispered, pressing my lips to her shoulder. “No one will ever harm you again, Mia.” She would always be Mia to me. Mine. “I promise you.”
Twenty
“Breakfast is ready, sunshine. Hurry up. The sale’s already started.”
I moaned and rolled over to bury my face in the pillow. Yesterday, I’d had to get up early to go to the gym before work, which had been an experience in agony considering the bruises and aches I’d earned in the ring the night before.
Now I faced an even worse fate on the day I’d optimistically planned to use for sleep and recuperation.
Shopping with my sister. Dear God, save my mortal soul.
“I have bacon,” she said in a singsong voice.
At the mere suggestion, my deprived taste buds started quivering.
“And scrambled eggs with button mushrooms and fresh grapefruit.”
Moaning again, I fought to ignore my growling stomach. “I need to sleep.”
“You’ve slept two nights in a row with the help of those knockout pills. Not going to make it three, by the way.” Carly tried to lift up one of my eyelids.
I grunted out a laugh as I shoved her away.
“Come on, you know you want my eats. My breakfast brings all the boys to the yard.” She hummed the song “Milkshake.” I laughed again and crossed my arms over my head. Which made me moan again, thanks to the fist-sized bruise on my right arm.
“Car, stick my food on the warming plate and let me sleep. Please.” I wasn’t above begging, not when it meant a possible reprieve from the mall on a Sunday. “Please.”
“No fricking way. They have purple Uggs on sale at Wicks. I’m so buying them for an early birthday gift to myself. Aunt Patty gave me money.”
“No way. You can’t spend that much on a pair of boots.” I shot up in bed. Okay, so I jerked up and then sagged like a marionette with broken strings, but at least I was upright. Mostly. “If you need boots, we’ll get some at the thrift. Those will last you for the rest of this winter. Next winter, we’ll be somewhere warm.”
“You don’t know that.” She pouted. “We could still be here, if Fox doesn’t fight you.”
“He’s going to fight me.” Besides, even if he didn’t, that didn’t mean we were stuck in New York forever. I’d had tunnel vision about making enough seed money in one go to get us out of the city, but I could earn enough cash to leave in other ways. I hated the idea of delaying our future, but the time had come to acknowledge I didn’t have control of this situation.
If Fox fought me and I made enough to make it worth my while, excellent. Succeeding—for once—at something I set out to do would be frigging lovely. Any extra cash beyond what we needed for the move would go toward her college fund.
But if he didn’t fight me or I didn’t make as much money as I planned, it didn’t matter. Car and I would sock away our cash, bide our time just a bit longer, and still be gone before spring.
Uggs were not part of the equation.
Carly rolled her eyes. “Says who? You? You can’t make him do something he doesn’t want to.”
“He already agreed, and I don’t want to talk about Fox. I want to go back to sleep.” Halfway slouched into my pillow again, I yelped as Carly grabbed hold of my ear and twisted. “What was that for?”
“You’ve slept plenty. You’re going to eat and shop like a normal woman and stop hiding in this bed.” Shaking her head, my sister tugged at my threadbare blanket. “It’s not even warm.”
“It’s warm enough.” It really wasn’t, and I’d had to temper the urge to burrow under Fox’s coat about ten times last night. I probably would’ve given in if I hadn’t been sure smelling him would make me cry. So instead, I’d crowded into Carly’s back until she got annoyed and went to sleep on the couch.
She perched on the edge of my bed, her cheeks entirely too pink and her eyes way too bright and blue. She practically vibrated with life and exuberance, while I…did not. “You need Uggs even more than I do. You have zero body fat. Your toes must freeze every time you step outside. Maybe we’ll find a two-for-one sale?”
I set my mouth in a hard line. I refused to be swayed. Again. “Uggs are a fashion boot. If your feet are cold, you can have some of the socks I got at the army and navy sto—” I stopped at her peal of laughter. “What’s so funny? I have some in the package that I haven’t worn yet.”
“Ame, you’re twenty-one, not fifty. You desperately need to spend some money on a frivolous purchase. When was the last time you bought something fun? Like, I dunno, a new jean skirt or a new shirt, or hey, what about a new bra and panty set?” She gave me a sly look. “Fox would eat you up in lace.”
My face heated and I had to struggle against the urge to grab my blanket and pull it over my head. Why was I so uncomfortable when it came to sex? I shouldn’t have had any modesty left. But Car knew the real me, and that made my tough girl act a lot more difficult to pull off.
“Fox won’t be eating me in anything,” I muttered, flushing at her giggle. I grabbed my pillow and hit her with it, laughing as she tried unsuccessfully to rip it away. My hands still ached like hell from Friday’s fight, but sometimes my strength came in handy.
And sometimes it created barriers between me and other people I wanted to get close to, even if it was dangerous.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. He seems pretty persistent about chowing down when it comes to you.” She pushed the pillow into my chest. “You should totally shock the hell out of him with some skimpy lingerie. You’d blow his mind.” She waggled her brows. “And maybe a few other things.”
“God, you’re terrible.” I tried to keep my face straight, but it was almost impossible when she was leering at me. “We’re not seeing each other anymore. If we ever were.”
“Oh, so that’s why you’re in here hiding out in bed? Weak, Sis. Completely weak.” She rose and tugged on my hand. “If you’re miserable about ending it with a guy, you don’t go into hibernation mode. You make him see what he’s missing by flaunting your sexy bod un
til he drowns in a puddle of his own drool. Don’t you know anything?”
“Apparently not.” I resisted the pull of her hand by planting my ass and refusing to budge. I was sore and cranky and stubborn, and even her intergalactic perkiness couldn’t improve my mood. “I don’t want to flaunt and I don’t want him to drool. I just want to fight him and move on. Jesus, stop pulling on my hand. I’m already in enough pain.”
Her grip lessened, but she didn’t let go. “Want more ibuprofen?”
“No. I’m okay.” Blowing out a breath, I focused on the bony kneecap outlined by my blanket. That was what I was. All bones and sinew, nothing warm and soft. I liked it that way. Or I had once. “When are you going to tell me why you’re here, anyway? What about school?” I’d intended to ask those questions yesterday, but my post-fight haze hadn’t left me real coherent.
The post-Fox haze wasn’t worth mentioning.
“You need me,” Carly said simply.
“Carly. What about school?”
“I swear, everything’s fine. If you come to the mall, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“You’ll tell me everything regardless.” Her hopeful look cut through my gloom. I sighed. “How about online shopping?”
“Lame. Don’t make me bring out the big guns.” She tugged something out of her ridiculously tight jeans—something we would be discussing later after I’d sucked down a quart of coffee—and waved it. A tiny purple spritzer bottle of perfume trailed scent through the air. “I’ll bathe your ass in Luscious Lavender, bitch, unless you stop acting like a wuss and come eat some breakfast with your adorable baby sister who makes one hell of a rockin’ omelet.”
I couldn’t hold back my grin. She looked so fierce standing there with her bottle of perfume. I knew it wasn’t an idle threat. She’d make me stink so bad I’d never be able to walk into the gym again.
“Fine. Have it your way.” I held up both hands. “I’ll get dressed and be out in fifteen minutes.”
Carly lowered her perfume. “And after breakfast, we’ll go to the mall?”
