Laken (The Phoenix Club Girl Diaries Book 2)

by Addison Jane

  But was I scared of him?

  “I dunno,” I answered truthfully, finally dropping my ready stance, my hands falling to the sides of my body. It’d been a long time since I’d held my tongue around my father. I gave up hating him in silence a long time ago, probably around the same time he gave up keeping his fists to himself. What was the point in keeping my mouth shut any longer if he was going to beat the shit out of me anyway? “Maybe not scared of him per se… but more the power he holds.”

  My father wasn’t cocky and powerful because he was delusional. He was that way because he knew what he was capable of. He knew he had the money, the resources, and the lack of giving a shit that was needed to destroy another human being if it meant it would benefit him.

  Myth started tugging at his pads, ripping at the Velcro strips with his teeth before launching them to the side and sending them flying over the edge of the ring and on to the floor. “Good warm-up.”

  Warm-up!

  He had to be fucking joking.

  “Now, let’s see how much power you hold,” he said loudly, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and tugging it up over his head before sending it flying in the same direction.

  There was a subtle sheen across his tanned skin, giving it this God-like glow that almost had me dabbing at the side of my mouth. It was quite the sight, and my throat suddenly felt very dry as he stepped forward with his chest now bare and shorts hanging low on his hips, highlighting that perfect ‘V’ shape which dipped below them, my eyes unable to fight the urge to follow it like a damn arrow.

  Myth was a whole goddamn package, one that had my fingers tingling and warmth beginning to stir between my legs as I imagined just how good it would feel to be wrapped around him, his lips pressed to my neck as he pushed hard insi—

  “You want me to put my shirt back on?”

  I shook my head, fighting the daze I’d obviously allowed myself to get stuck in. Clearing my throat, I pushed my hair back from my face with the back of my glove and forced myself to meet his torturous gaze.

  The smirk on his face didn’t help, it only made my cheeks burn more, my skin feeling like it could be on fire. And it had been a long fucking time since any man had been able to make me blush.

  Myth, though, I felt like not just my face was on fire, my entire body was burning.

  For him.

  “No, no,” I finally managed to force out after a few moments, giving me time to control the shaking in my voice. “You’re fine just the way you are.”

  His soft chuckle twisted my stomach even more as he closed the space, leaving only three feet of complete and utter sexual tension swirling in the air between us. “Okay. Hit me.”

  “Um…” I started, choking on a laugh. “No thanks.”

  “You think you’ll hurt me?”

  “You think you’re invincible?”

  He shrugged. “Come on, Rocky. Hit me.” I could feel my head shaking back and forth. I wasn’t even controlling it, it just didn’t want anything to fucking do with possibly hurting him. Just the thought made me feel physically ill. “You hit me, I’ll give you something.”

  “Give me what?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Whatever you want.”

  I knew what I wanted.

  I held my breath, lifting my gloves and exhaling as I threw a slow jab at his shoulder.

  He stepped aside, easily dodging the pathetic excuse for a punch and rolling his eyes. “Really?” I tried the other side, this time a little quicker but receiving the same result. His head shook back and forth. “Come on, you ca—”

  I swung, not expecting him to step forward at the same time, collecting him in the ribs and surprising him well enough that he had to move his foot to keep his body balanced.

  My gasp filled the silence, and I inched backward, pulling my lip between my teeth as I fought a smile.

  “That’s what we call a sucker punch.” Myth smirked, his eyes following me like a predator as I crept backward.

  I threw my arms out wide. “Maybe you shouldn’t be such a sucker then,” I teased, knowing I was pushing it, but at the same time, my body was thriving on the electricity in the air around us.

  It was crackling and swirling—the beginning of a storm.

  A crazy, unpredictable, beautiful storm.

  “Why are you running?” he taunted, the two of us practically dancing as I bounced back and forth on my toes, Myth matching every move I made as I tried to evade him.

  Ripping off one of my gloves, I tossed it at him. He easily ducked the first one, but when my second glove caught the side of his head, he froze.

  And I instantly knew I was in trouble.

  Turning on my heel, I made a run for it.

  Why? I wasn’t sure because I knew I’d never outrun him.

  That realization coming seconds later, my aching muscles refusing to do anything for me after I’d just put them through hell. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when two strong arms caught me around the waist, lifting my entire body off the ground.

  Giggles fell from my lips so fucking naturally. My body alight, my heart racing. “Put me down, you caveman!” I laughed as he carried me across the room, my feet kicking in the air.

  My feet hit the ground with a thud, my body spun around, and a hand pressed to my stomach, forcing my back against the springy ropes that lined the ring.

  “Caveman?” Myth questioned with a raised brow and a smug grin. “If you’re not careful, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you straight to my damn cave.”

  His whiskey eyes stole my breath just like a shot, and the burn that followed soaked through me sending a fresh wave of goosebumps across my skin. I licked my lips, the feeling so real I almost expected them to taste like liquor. “You said you’d give me something.”

  He tilted his head a little, studying me as his hand slipped from my stomach, circling my waist. All I could do was try to ignore the way my heart rate instantly began to race, almost as though it was trying to warn me to get the hell out of there, to run before it got too attached.

  But I couldn’t.

  My heart may have been petrified, but there was something far deeper inside me willing to risk my heart breaking to be this damn close to him.

  It wanted to give in.

  I wanted to give in.

  “And what do you want?” Myth’s other hand caught the side of my face, cradling my jaw as his lips barely brushed mine. Heat coursed through me like a tidal wave, stealing my breath and melting my limbs to jelly before it settled in the bottom of my stomach. My hands traced the line of his strong jaw and rounded his neck, my nails digging into his skin urging him closer, every single nerve in my body already addicted to his touch.

  Fuck it.

  “I want you.”

  He didn’t flinch.

  Instead, he squeezed me tight, lifting my feet from the ground. I gasped, clinging tighter as my ass was placed on the top rope, my body bouncing for a few seconds. My legs circled his waist, my hips pushing forward with a complete and utter mind of their own as they pressed against the hard swell growing in the front of his shorts.

  Myth’s kiss consumed me, his lips suddenly pressed hard to mine, stealing every chance I had of escape and every breath I dared to take. He was like a fucking drug, and this was my first hit. It was all new and euphoric, sending electric currents shooting through me I’d never experienced before, but I instantly knew I was never going to be able to walk away from. And like an instant addict, I wanted more.

  His hand began to slide into my hair, his fingers twisting into the strands and using his hold to tilt my head to the side. I whimpered when Myth’s lips slipped away, my eyes fluttering closed as they brushed so fucking lightly across my jaw and down my neck.

  I should have walked away.

  No, I should have run.

  But I was fucking lost.

  Lost in him.

  Lost in the way he made me feel.

  Or maybe I wasn’t lost at all, and after so
long fucking running, maybe this was what I felt like to be found.

  My fingers danced down his chest and over his stomach, a silent smile forming on my face as his muscles tightened at my touch. “Ticklish?” I teased breathlessly, tugging softly at the waistband of his shorts.

  I should know better than to tease this fucking man by now, though, his arm tightening around my waist before lifting me from the ropes. At the same time, he pressed me down against his now completely rock-hard cock, my thin workout shorts doing almost nothing as his length ground hard against my clit.

  I gasped, throwing my head back and pressing my hips forward, my body suddenly seeking some kind of relief from the building storm he’d created.

  “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s ticklish,” he growled, pressing his lips to my neck and grazing his teeth over the skin just below my ear. My body shuddered, and I desperately fought to hold my grip around Myth’s neck.

  Then again, I could have let go, and there was no way he would have dropped me. Because if anyone could carry me and my damn baggage—it was him.

  “Sorry to disturb this little party.”

  We both jumped, my first reaction to pull away like two school kids caught kissing around the back of a building, but he refused to let me down, instead pressing me back against the ropes. “What?” he growled, turning his head just enough to see a smug-looking Shake standing in the gym doorway, clearly undeterred by his gruff tone.

  “Jester’s old manager’s been trying to get hold of you for a couple of hours.” Myth’s arms tightened around me, and I pulled him in closer, kneading the back of his neck to try and relieve the instant tension there. “He called the clubhouse, but said he’d only talk to you.”

  “Dammit,” Myth cursed under his breath, pulling back just far enough to hold my gaze. “I’m coming now.”

  I didn’t turn to see if Shake had left, or if he was still there waiting.

  I couldn’t.

  Myth let me slide to the floor, my legs by some miracle holding me up. “This phone call is important,” he announced, his finger curling under my chin and lifting my eyes just slightly.

  “I know,” I murmured, forcing a smile and trying to hide the disappointment from showing on my face. “Club business always comes first. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  His shoulders tightened, and his jaw clenched. But he didn’t say anything else, just took my hand, and led me to his ride.

  Leaving my heart in the ring.

  MYTH

  “We get the details, we get out. Okay?”

  Tyler nodded, his narrowed eyes searching the lobby of the hotel. It was pristine, sparkling, not a potted plant or painting out of place. “You sure this is the place?” he murmured out of the side of his mouth as we made our way down the tiled hall.

  The girl at the front desk had been anything but helpful, barely able to string two words together as she stared up at us. Finally had to send Tyler round to find the fucking note that had been left allowing us to go up to this asshole’s room.

  “I guess we’ll soon find out.”

  I wanted to get this meeting done and get the fuck out of this place. Not only were we needed at Dynasty, but my gut was telling me the same thing Tyler’s was. This place wasn’t right. There was something off about a manager having the type of money to put himself up in a place like this. But then again, there were those kinds of guys out there who thought they were worth more, who liked to flash their cheap rip-off gold watches and leased penthouses around like it made them special.

  Oh, it made them some kind of special.

  But not the kind they were hoping for.

  “374,” Tyler noted, nodding to the door at the end of the hall.

  I paused, lifting my arm and pounding one hard knock on the door which sent it flying open.

  With my fist still hanging in mid-air, I turned and looked at Ty with a raised brow. “Get your gun out. Stay here.”

  “Myth…”

  “Just stay here,” I ordered, reaching inside my cut, my fingers curling around the heavy piece of metal I had stashed inside.

  The air buzzed around me as I stepped inside, my eyes flicking around trying to catch every corner, every movement, any place someone could hide or jump out from. “Connor?” I called, my finger hovering over the trigger of my 9 mil, the muscle feeling a little twitchy. “Connor Lint?”

  Nothing.

  Silence.

  The short hallway opened into a living room and kitchen, another hall leading off to the side, but it was there I stopped where the smell hit me like a fucking brick wall. “Fuck,” I choked, trying to hold my breath and shake my head at the same time.

  An armchair had been pushed up next to the window, the Arizona sun beaming in and roasting the mutilated corpse sitting in the chair, holding a shot glass in his hand like he’d been having a casual drink while admiring the view from the hotel window.

  Just, without a face.

  The flesh on show but dried up and crusted over.

  God only knew how long he’d been there.

  Then who the fuck called m—

  “You don’t like my work?”

  My heart jumped, my hand tightening on my gun as I spun around, just in time to catch the sadistic smile on Jester’s face before he grabbed my hand and slammed it against the wall, crushing my fingers and forcing the gun to tumble to the floor with a hard thud.

  A growl rumbled deep in my throat as he held my wrist there, his face alight like a small child on Christmas morning. “Myth! It’s so good to finally see you.” He laughed, squeezing my wrist a little tighter, making the bones click. “I’ve been waiting!”

  Grabbing his hand over mine, I yanked his body forward at the same time as I lifted my knee, plowing it deep into his ribs. The bastard let go of me instantly, and I didn’t waste a second, pulling my arm in and throwing my elbow since he was too fucking close for a fist. It caught him right in the temple, forcing him to stumble backward but not losing that goofy-ass smile off his face as he caught his breath. While I took the same moment to get my head together, weighing up the options of going for my gun but risking leaving myself vulnerable.

  Or perhaps, I should just beat the fucking shit out of this bastard and get it over with.

  “I’m so glad you came.” He grinned, sucking in deep breaths.

  “Didn’t come to see you,” I snapped back, letting my club cut slip down off my shoulder and throwing it across the kitchen counter. It was fucking hard enough to move with these hefty ass boots and jeans, but attempting to move in heavy leather was almost impossible. And I wasn’t about to be the next fighter put in a goddamn box and mailed to the clubhouse.

  “Yes, Connor rang and let me know you were itching to meet with him,” Jester announced, shrugging off the bomber jacket he had on revealing a tight white tank top already covered in blood splatter. Some looked old, other parts fresher. “He tried to talk me out of it… you know… challenging you. Seemed to think there was a chance I’d lose.”

  “Sounds like he was a smart guy.”

  Jester’s face dropped, the anger in his eyes taking over as he rushed at me.

  Left.

  Right.

  Left.

  I blocked each blow, one after another, his movements quick but not precise—a flaw I quickly noted.

  He ducked his head, giving up on his fists and running straight at me, tackling me around the middle and sending us both flying backward over the back of the sofa and into the middle of the tiny living room.

  My back hit the floor first, knocking the wind from my lungs, but I managed to keep my head up so it wouldn’t impact my senses. That was the plan, keep my head protected because once you’re stunned, you’re vulnerable.

  And you’re dead.

  Jester pulled back, driving his fist with force at my head. I turned just in time, the breeze tickling my cheek, but the second blow he curled around and caught me in the ear, sending a ringing sound shooting through my head
.

  “You think he’s so smart, but that loser just signed up to manage Atlas Clarke. The kid hasn’t won a fucking fight in two years.” His grin grew wider as he stared down at me, too cocky to keep on me, using his advantage. Instead, he liked to gloat—he needed to gloat. Because while he was a pretty fucking good fighter, he lacked the respect a lot of other fighters got. So he needed to remind them constantly. Flaw number two. “At least he still has a better track record than you.”

  The taunt didn’t hit its mark, not like he’d hoped it would.

  Because I didn’t give a shit.

  Fighting was a part of who I was, but it had never been the winning that was the end game for me. It was more than that.

  He tried again, forcing his fist straight down past my face and into the carpet, but this time I was prepared. I grabbed it before he could pull back, hooking my arm around it and bending the elbow back in the opposite direction.

  His painful roar filled the small hotel room, and he yanked his arm back, slipping it out of my hold, but the damage was already done. The pain had already overwhelmed him. It caught him off-guard, and I took the opportunity laying three hard blows to his stomach and liver before shoving his body off me.

  He was thrown, unsteady as he scrambled to get to his feet, cradling his arm to his body.

  It wasn’t broken.

  I hadn’t heard it crack.

  But I bet it was fucking sore.

  I pushed my body off the floor, my jaw aching and well prepared to fucking end this shit right here, keep my family safe, and move the fuck on without this hanging over my head.

  Maybe that was my mistake.

  I knew better than to underestimate a man in a losing fight.

  Because desperate times called for desperate measures.

  “Myth!” Ty stepped inside, and I flinched at his warning, pulling back just as the deadly switchblade whipped past my face.

  But I wasn’t fast enough.

  It caught me, right above my eyebrow, tearing open a slice of my skin. I could hear it, that distinct sound of a blade cutting through flesh, the delicate threads being torn apart. It was sickening, almost stomach-churning, and all I could do was curse. The throbbing was almost instant—the pain like a building wave, growing stronger and more intense by the second. I gritted my teeth, consciously fighting to keep my body from swaying even as the warm trickle of blood dripped down the side of my face.