Laken (The Phoenix Club Girl Diaries Book 2)

by Addison Jane

  When we reached the large roller door, I crouched down, pulling my keys from my pocket and unlocking the tiny padlock that didn’t look like much but seemed to have served as a pretty good deterrent so far. That, and probably the fact that anyone who knew the gym was actually here, knew who owned it.

  These kids might be hardcore in the gangbanging community, but you still wouldn’t catch a single fucking one of them trying to take on the MC.

  I grabbed the bottom of the door and yanked it up, letting it roll back into the roof.

  “It looks a little rough from the outside,” I explained, walking inside and making my way to the lockers which lined the right side of the room. It gave the boys a place to keep their equipment instead of taking it home with them every day. The couple of younger kids I worked with had parents who were in gangs, or addicted to drugs, and would sell whatever they could lay their hands on to trade for their daily hit.

  “But this is the kind of rough the people who come to work out here find comfortable,” I explained, stripping off my shirt and shoving it into my locker. It never lasted long anyway with these boys. They were getting fucking good, and the harder they worked, the harder I needed to work to keep ahead of them.

  And honestly, it was becoming more difficult every fucking week.

  I wasn’t as fast as I used to be when I was eighteen.

  That was just life.

  But it didn’t stop me pushing these guys to limits they never imagined before and expecting them to meet me there.

  “There’s no point in building some flashy gym that’s all sparkling and new. This is about letting them know you don’t need all that shit to do amazing things.”

  She hummed softly in agreement. “It’s about showing them how to be great in their own world, not how to live up to someone else’s.”

  I didn’t turn around, not wanting her to see the surprised smile on my face.

  Even though I probably shouldn’t have been.

  I’d already underestimated her.

  As cliché as it sounded, she was in no way like any other damn woman I’d met. But I still hadn’t really figured out exactly what kind of world Laken was from.

  She’d been broken down long before Red Riot got hold of her, that, at least, was fucking obvious. And yet, there were times where she could fake the most convincing smiles.

  How does someone who has grown up with so much pain, have a smile like a queen?

  “This place is amazing,” she whispered in awe as she moved around the space. It wasn’t huge. It wasn’t fancy, but I made sure I had the right equipment to do the job, and it was the club that had helped supply a lot of it.

  I smirked, reaching into my locker and grabbing the roll of strapping from inside before turning to watch her. I felt like a fucking creeper, but there was something about the way she was taking it all in, her gaze alight with curiosity and wonder like she got it, like she understood why it was so important.

  When her eyes fell back to mine, they were bright and excited. “What made you start this?”

  “I was a fucking asshole when I was a kid,” I noted simply, mindlessly wrapping the thick strapping material around my wrist.

  “That is so shocking.” She laughed, the sarcastic tone of it not lost on me. “Unfortunately, so was I.”

  I could only imagine.

  “My anger was a problem. More than a problem. It controlled me for a long fucking time, made me feel like I was trapped in the fires of hell, and the harder I fought to get out, the worse it got.” I focused on my hands, wrapping them meticulously, the same way I’d done it almost every damn day for twenty years.

  It was things like that which kept me focused.

  It was all a process.

  One in which I’d been through a million times, but I still found comfort in. It was predictable and something I had complete control over, which was so fucking important for a mind like mine.

  “I get that,” she said quietly, my eyes flicking up for a brief second to see her gaze focused intently on my hands. Laken blinked a couple of times like she was trying to pull herself out of some kind of daze. She shook her head, forcing a tight smile. “I understand fighting but feeling like you’re just burying yourself deeper.”

  Laken was more than she let on.

  She was smarter, stronger, far more than the sweet, sassy role she played for people.

  That was becoming obvious.

  Since the moment we met, there had been this strange familiar feeling there that swirled around us. Sometimes you just knew people wouldn’t understand the person you were, the life you lived, or what set your soul on fire. That was fine. Not everyone was accustomed to the club life, and not everyone understood the fire that burned inside me to fight or what it did for my soul.

  But she did.

  There was something about her that just fucking got it.

  I didn’t feel like I needed to explain myself, my actions, or why the hell I am the way I am.

  The girl was a damn mystery, but every moment I spent with her made me want to spend another fucking moment with her.

  As I grabbed another roll of tape, a throat cleared, and I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Mase step through the doorway. “You’re early,” I noted, a little confused to see him standing there with one hand in his pocket and the other carrying a little pink My Little Pony backpack.

  He looked nervous, his eyes flicking back and forth between Laken and me for a minute before he finally looked back over his shoulder. “Come on,” he urged, his voice soft and gentle, bringing a confused frown to my face. “I gotta work.”

  A little hand shot out from around the corner, and he reached out with his free hand, taking a hold of it and tugging a little girl into the gym behind him. She must have been all of three years old, her eyes wide in wonder and disbelief as she looked around, her long dark ringlets bouncing from her pigtails. “Wow. Dis you work, Mase?”

  Laken fell into step with me as I walked toward them. “Hey,” I nodded with a smile, noting the way the kid pulled the little girl closer to his side as we approached. It was a move I knew so fucking well, one I’d used time after time when a stranger came near my sister. “You’re like an hour early.”

  Mase cleared his throat, shifting nervously on his feet. “My mom was drunk. There was no one to pick Lola up after daycare, and I would have been late if I’d walked her all the way home and then had to come back.” He lifted his chin just slightly as if he were preparing himself for a hard blow.

  I couldn’t say I wasn’t impressed.

  He could have said fuck today and taken his sister home. It was a reasonable excuse, and I wasn’t going to ever berate someone for putting their family first before anything else.

  But he didn’t.

  He put in the fucking effort even though he knew he might show up and get turned away.

  “This happen often?” I asked, my eyebrow raised.

  “Yeah.”

  The way his face sunk, I knew he was expecting to be told to go home, expecting I wouldn’t want the trouble he brought along with having him around.

  The thing was, he’d be wrong.

  I looked to Laken who was already crouched down in front of Lola, chatting animatedly with her about the ponies on her backpack. “Which one is your favorite?” she whispered, the little girl, Lola, chewing on her lip as she slowly reached out and pointed to the rainbow-colored one. Laken gasped. “You know what? I heard that’s Myth’s favorite, too.”

  Mase laughed, quickly covering it with a fake cough when I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Weally?” Lola blinked up at me with those bright, sparkling blue eyes while Laken wiggled her eyebrows, daring me to destroy the kid’s dreams.

  “Yeah, really,” I agreed, shaking my head but unable to keep a smile from forming on my face as I looked down at Laken’s playful grin. “You just wait,” I murmured under my breath, enjoying the way her cheeks flushed and her mouth fell open, instantly making me
want to see if I could make her ass that same color later.

  “Lola’s good. I can still get my stuff done and watch her at the same time,” Mase cut in.

  Finally.

  He was getting it.

  Maybe I underestimated this kid.

  “I think Laken’s got this one under control,” I announced with a smirk. Laken took her cue picking up Lola and her backpack and skipping off to a quiet corner. When his eyes came back to me, I tossed him the second roll of tape I’d pulled from my locker. He caught it, his eyes going wide. “I’ve got forty minutes before Dax gets in. Let’s get you strapped up and in some gloves.”

  His face lit up, his eyes glistening a little. “For real?”

  “Yeah,” I answered. “Here’s your opportunity, you gonna take it?”

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  LAKEN

  “Come on, Will,” Myth called at the young guy in the ring with him. He clapped his pads hard together, the loud sound echoing through the small gym. “You’re not dead yet, so keep fighting.”

  Will was only young, but he was tall and toned, and despite the fact he looked like he was about to collapse, there was this determination in his eyes that was unmistakable. His chest heaved up and down as he bounced back and forth on his toes, barely moving, but not on the ground yet. Which meant there was still something left in his tank.

  Myth swept his pad overhead, and Will ducked.

  Then pounced.

  The punch was unexpected, collecting Myth’s flat pad with enough force to surprise him and force him to take a step back.

  A grin lit up his face. “Fuck, yes.” Myth laughed, pushing forward. “Again, come on!”

  His energy was addictive. I felt myself drawn in, my eyes watching his every move, every expression that passed over his face. The broody Myth I’d met outside the ring was hot as fucking hell—the bad boy every good girl searched for. He was unpredictable and intimidating and that give-no-shit attitude that followed him around had my body tingling and my legs unconsciously pressing together to try and ease some of the ache between them.

  But this Myth?

  He was different.

  He was in his element.

  And I was beginning to realize there was nothing fucking sexier than passion.

  Except maybe a passionate, half-naked, sweaty, tattooed biker.

  It was in his eyes, it was in the way he challenged his fighters, and it was in the way he was so eager to pass on what he knew and what he could do to others who felt that same enthusiasm.

  Watching how it transformed him, empowered him—there was nothing fucking sexier than a man doing what drives him to do what he fucking loves. And I was suddenly so ready to throw everything I’d been fighting against out the window and wrap my body around him and—

  “Everything’s clean, wiped down, weights all stacked,” Mase announced, dropping to the mat where I was sitting and forcing my heart to leap up into my throat for a second.

  “Shit,” I gasped softly, pressing my hand to my chest and shaking my head.

  “Sorry,” he cringed, looking down at Lola who was still blissfully sleeping, her head on my thigh. “Thanks… for watching her.”

  I looked up at him and smiled, my fingers still unconsciously sweeping through Lola’s gorgeous baby ringlets. “You don’t have to say thank you,” I told him honestly. “You ever find yourself bringing her in again, you get Myth to call me, and I’ll come right down so you can focus on what you need to do.”

  Mase bent his knees, resting his arms on them and twisting his fingers together. “Really?”

  “Of course.” He nodded, a movement meant to disguise the way a lump caught in his throat as he swallowed. “You’re a good big brother,” I insisted, nudging him with my foot and offering him a supportive smile.

  His shoulders slumped, his head falling and hanging between his arms for a second before he finally took a deep breath and sat up straight. “She deserves better,” he whispered, unable to keep his voice from cracking.

  “She does, but for now she has you,” Myth announced, padding softly toward us as he pulled a tank top over his head. I tried to fight the disappointment as it fell, covering his body. “You keep coming in for that extra half hour or so, I’ll keep working with you before you start your hours.”

  “You will?”

  Myth sat beside us, and I felt my body leaning unconsciously toward him. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of twenties and placing them on the mat beside Mase. The kid’s eyes grew wide, his fingers twisting together a little tighter as if he were trying to stop himself from reaching out and taking the money.

  “Get some food for you and Lola,” Myth ordered, nodding at the snoring toddler. “Whatever’s left, put it on a bus pass or something, whatever is gonna make it easier for you to get here.”

  It took a second.

  But he reached out and scooped up what looked like a little over a hundred dollars and shoved it into his pocket. “I’ll learn quick, man. I’ll be here every day.”

  Myth nodded as if he had no doubts.

  “And you know what,” I added brightly. “If Lola keeps coming, maybe the two of us can start working on our own little workout.”

  Mase laughed, shaking his head back and forth while Myth simply looked at me with a grin.

  “You two think I’m joking,” I argued, rolling my eyes. “Girls can be just as strong, you just wait and see.”

  “Someone call an Uber?” We all looked up to see Ty leaning against the open door with this boyish grin I’d come to adore, the headlights from the club SUV lighting up the now dark alleyway outside.

  “Ty is gonna take the two of you home,” Myth announced as the boys rose to their feet. Mase leaned over and scooped up his little sister before I followed them toward the door. “You wanna stop and get something to eat, just let him know. He’ll give you his number, you ever can’t get hold of me, you call him.”

  Ty held out his hand, the two young guys shaking hard, mutual respect instantly forming between them.

  I stretched out my arms and legs as I watched the car pull out and cruise away. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting on the floor, I was too scared to move and disturb the sleeping princess, but I knew I felt about eighty years old with the way my muscles were aching.

  “You coming?”

  I spun around, frowning at Myth as he held the ropes to the boxing ring open. My feet carried me forward, curiosity or stupidity in charge, I wasn’t sure. “Um… what?”

  “I want to test your theory.”

  The smirk which curled up in the corner of his mouth had brightened his eyes, and it was something I probably should have been wary of. Myth wasn’t just strong, he was smart, cunning, and I was learning quickly that if he saw a button, he was going to push it.

  “What theory would that be?” I questioned as I reached the ring, unable to fight the pull.

  “Girls can be just as strong,” he mocked, reaching out and taking my hand. “Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

  Left, right, up, kick.

  We repeated the process over and over, my body bouncing softly as I fell into a comfortable rhythm. Each punch was becoming more of a struggle, my arms feeling like every time I lifted them, another weight was being added.

  Sweat trailed down my back, soaking a wet patch into my T-shirt while each breath became a little heavier than the last. I was so out of shape it wasn’t funny.

  I used to swing on fucking poles for Christ’s sake.

  Stripping is a skill, one that takes a damn load of practice and precision, not to mention stamina. It took me years and years to get to a point where I was any good.

  And now. I couldn’t even last thirty minutes punching a bag and running laps.

  I was pathetic.

  Left, right, up, kick.

  “Who taught you to throw a punch?”

  “Are they that bad?”

  “No, they’re almost perfect.”


  I scoffed softly as I drove my fist into his left pad, then the right. “My dad wasn’t all that excited about his third child being a girl,” I explained, trying to keep my breathing even, but with the way my heart rate was climbing, I knew it wouldn’t be long before the luxury of speaking and breathing at the same time was going to vanish. “I thought getting into more things like my brothers might make him like me more.”

  I tried to ignore the way the scars on my stomach began to throb as I found it harder and harder to breathe. I had exerted myself before, that wasn’t unusual, but Myth was pushing harder. He wanted more—more than I was sure I knew how to give.

  “Your dad didn’t like you?”

  “In the words of my father, ‘a daughter is a nice accessory…’” left, right, up, kick, “‘… but only on special occasions.’”

  I could feel my stomach churn as I repeated the words I’d heard my father tell me on multiple occasions. When I was younger, he’d tried to play it off as a joke to appease my mom who would jab him in the side and scold him for teasing me.

  If only she’d known just how serious he was.

  Myth’s heavy brow knotted between his eyes, the confused look kind of cute on a guy who always seemed to have the answers. “Your dad sounds like a dick.”

  I paused, stunned for a moment, my head falling to the side while my fists continued to frame my face in the ready position. “It’s been a long time since anyone but me has called him that.”

  In the eyes of the public, he was a saint.

  In my eyes, he was a sinner.

  “That ‘cause people are scared of him?” I held Myth’s gaze, my mouth hanging open just slightly as I considered whether I’d already said too much. This was the problem with this man in front of me, I got swept up in him, caught in that protective fire, and it begged me to give in. To stop fighting and let him win. “Are you scared of him?”

  The question was like an electric shock.

  Was I?

  I’d spent years with criminals, with men who were willing to lie, cheat, steal, and kill just because they felt like it. I’d been raped, mentally tortured, and fucking beaten by these men. And yet, if you asked me today who the vilest human being on this earth was, I’d name my dad every single fucking time.