Her Brawlers: A high school bully romance (Bad Boys of Jameson High Book 2)

by Taylor Blaine

  Bruce returned to his position, digging his thick fingers into the muscle under my arms as he tugged, harder and longer. We reached the edge of the ring and he climbed through the ropes. His head above me, he looked around, then flipped me onto my stomach.

  I grunted with the sudden movement I hadn’t been prepared for. I’d taken a couple hits to my chest and face and slapping onto the rough flooring didn’t help them feel any better.

  “Suck it up, son. This next part is going to be worse.” Bruce moved under me and then I was slung over his broad shoulder, bent at the waist as I hung unceremoniously over his back. He hooked his arm behind my knees to hold me in place as he hiked from the club space.

  If I’d been in a less precarious position of being found alive, I would have thrown up. A man at the door stopped us. I clenched my stomach and held my breath.

  “Where are you going with that one?” The Russian didn’t mince words as he stood beside us.

  “That guy up there told me to take the body to the bus. Did you want him?” Bruce swung to the side as if to drop me off at the guy’s feet.

  “What’s his name?” There was no doubt he meant me.

  “Stryker Jameson. Just a kid.” Bruce’s regret was palpable and if I really was dead, I might feel flattered.

  “Go on.” The man waved us on, his lack of empathy more poignant than Bruce’s words.

  Bruce ambled on, like I was heavy and he hadn’t just manhandled me like I weighed nothing. Outside the door, he picked up the pace and the weightless feeling hit me.

  A light mist coated my back, leaving a chill where the mugginess of the club had been. In seconds, Bruce deposited me in the back of a truck, the rough lining reminiscent of a textured rubberized coating.

  He pulled a tarp over me, tucking the edges in around me before closing the tailgate. “Stay down. It’s not going to be a soft ride. My suspension is out. But I’ll get you where you need to be. Hang on.” His words could have been muttered to himself they were so low.

  I heard them and I didn’t even bother adjusting myself. If it was going to be a bumpy ride, I’d better save my energy for surviving that.

  Where had Gray gone? Had Gunner and Brock gotten her out? I didn’t want her to see what I’d been willing to do. Dirty shots like the kidney punches weren’t highlights of my fighting career. I knew Gray would understand, but I didn’t want to put her in the position that she’d have to try.

  I blinked as the shakes hit me. Adrenaline wearing off left a person feeling like they were coming off a drug high. Taking long slow breaths, I focused on my feet, my legs, up my hips, and into my back. I ignored the burn in my shoulder and the sensation of scrapes in my knuckles. Bruises would show the next day or so, marking where I’d taken the brunt of Sergio’s anger. My muscles would be stiff from the force I’d used to get my own frustrations across.

  The truck started up and shifted into gear. The transmission screamed as it moved into reverse. I jostled to the side, losing more skin on the rough texture of the lining.

  I reached out, pulling the tarp around me tighter, trying to protect as much of my flesh as I could. If I could wedge myself against a sidewall, in the corner, I wouldn’t move as much and could maybe save myself some unnecessary pain. Sliding across that liner would be like rubbing against a cheese grater.

  I rolled when he hit a corner after shifting into drive. I couldn’t see where I was going with the blue tarp across my face, but when I hit my uninjured shoulder against the side, I sighed in relief. Okay, I could work with that.

  Ignoring more scrapes, I wiggled my hips and arms until I was in the corner of the bottom of the bed and the side. If I could hold my position, I’d fare the ride better. If only.

  As we drove further and further from town, I recognized the smell of the woods in a rain storm. The tarp rustled in the wind, hiding any sounds of possible rain that might be able to make its way into the bed.

  The tires of the truck ground gravel into gravel and I caught my breath. Had he taken me to the mines?

  If Dominick was looking for me, he’d check the mines last, believing they weren’t open on the weekends. He’d check my nana’s house and even the Asher rental, believing I’d go there.

  Just because I’d handled the Russian problem, didn’t mean Dominick was taken care of. He’d promised to finish me off. I could only assume he would do whatever it took to make good on his promise.

  The truck stopped and I waited for Bruce to give me the okay to climb out.

  “Okay, Stryker, get out. This is as far as I can take you. I can’t get caught this way.” Bruce didn’t need to tell me twice.

  I threw off the tarp, tucking it back under the lip of the truck bed before climbing out over the tailgate. I slapped my hand on the back and waved, hoping he understood my gratitude with the small gestures.

  He nodded as he drove off, the tires spinning rocks behind him in a mini-rooster tail.

  I turned toward the tunnel opening. The door had been wedged open an inch, blocked from closing all the way by a broken brick piece – a sign from my cousins that they were inside. We always left the brick if it was us. That way we would know if someone else had made their way inside.

  The rain was more of a drizzle in north Idaho. I wiped my hand down my face, sluicing the gathering water from my skin. Following the lines of my chest, I disposed of the rain, hoping not to drip everywhere when I got inside.

  Slipping through the door, I kicked the brick out of the doorway and shut the automatic locking panel in place. For a split second, I leaned against the door, half-closing my eyes as the enormity of the last few hours hit me like a caving tunnel.

  When the door registered as locked, the lights slowly brightened down the hall, another security measure we had in place. Our factory made a lot of money and we had to protect our assets – both the people and the product.

  I limped forward, determined to eradicate the limp by the time I got to the inner rooms. Gunner and Brock wouldn’t see me as weak, but if they’d done what I asked, Gray would be there. I couldn’t have her thinking of me as anything but strong, a leader.

  I shook the pain out of my legs, the stiffness from the ride in the back of the truck. Feet from the offices, I could make out Gunner and Brock arguing and my name mentioned.

  Grinning, I pushed through the doorway. “You guys fighting over me? We can’t have that.” I winked, taking in the scene as Brock and Gunner turned to face me, relief erasing the tension from their expressions.

  Soft, petite fingers touched my arm and I whirled, on edge.

  Gray looked up at me, her blue eyes wide as she studied me. She traced her fingers up my arm as she searched my face, then my neck, then moved her gaze down to my shoulders. She gasped when she saw my injury.

  I turned my head, glancing down at the slight abrasion on my shoulder that wasn’t deeper than half an inch. The bullet had taken skin and muscle with it, but the wound would heal easily. I didn’t even need to go to a hospital.

  The rain though had taken the blood seeping from the wound and sent it in rivulets down my chest and back, projecting the bright red of a fresh wound.

  I looked back at her, shaking my head as she raised worried eyes to mine. “No. It’s fine. I promise.”

  She didn’t look like she believed me, dropping her exploratory hand to her side as if she were worried she might hurt me. How did I tell her that losing her touch hurt more than if she were to dig her nails into the bullet wound? Could I tell her that and keep my pride?

  Her pallor hadn’t improved, but at least I could guarantee she wouldn’t be hurt anymore as long as she was with me. I inspected her, too, my gaze raking over her as if I could drink her in.

  “We aren’t sure what happened. Is Sergio dead?” Brock glanced past me, as if checking for anyone else.

  I nodded, moving to sit in one of the chairs in the conference room. “Yeah, he’s gone. I’m not sure how much they’re going to cover up. The shooting was… planned a
nd yet almost of out of nowhere. I had no idea when it was going to happen. Do you know who shot?” I wanted Gray to sit on my lap and rest her head on my shoulder, if only to get my hands on her, but I wasn’t sure what she’d gone through while she was held by Blaze. Pushing her for information on her captivity in front of Gunner and Brock wasn’t appropriate or fair.

  Gunner sighed, nodding as he moved to stand by the wall. “I knew you were acting weird, like you knew what was happening.” He pinched his fingers over the bridge of his nose and stood with his back to me. “But no. We have no idea who the shooter was.”

  I was touched that they’d worried about me. I got it. Opening my mouth for more questions, I paused when Gunner’s phone rang.

  He snapped his eyes toward mine over his shoulder. He pulled out the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s our uncle.”

  I nodded, giving him permission to speak when he didn’t really need it.

  He swiped the screen and moved to sit down at the table across from me. Lifting the phone to his ear, he answered. “Yeah.” You couldn’t blame us for being cocky.

  Gunner’s eyes shot from the table to my face and he cocked his head. “Yes, sir, I didn’t know he was there. Yes. Are you sure, sir? Okay, sir. Thank you.” He added a choked-up sound to the end of his words. “Yes, sir, we’ll head right over.” He hung up and stared at me.

  “He thinks Stryker’s dead?” Brock moved to lean on the table, staring between Gunner and myself.

  Gunner grinned. “Yeah, but he wants to see us. It sounds like he has some kind of task for us to do. I think he just wants to make sure we’re going to fall into line now that he thinks the eldest is dead.”

  Brock glanced from me to Gray. “Are you going to be okay here? Do you need us to stay?” But he wasn’t asking me, he was asking Gray what she needed.

  The shift in dynamics was subtle but I caught it as Brock had dropped his guard against the Asher girl. He was going to protect her against anyone and anything, even over my needs.

  I wasn’t mad at all. In fact, I liked the thought that she had more than just me worrying about her. As long as he didn’t want to sleep with her, I was fine with their connection.

  She nodded, keeping her eyes on Brock as she stayed where I’d left her. I couldn’t help thinking maybe she’d made out with Brock now. The girl made her way around the family. Who was next? Obviously, she didn’t want me. Maybe she’d go for Dominick before me.

  “We’ll be fine. Get back as soon as you can.” My frustration wasn’t easy to hide, not that I tried.

  I was tired and not in the mood to deal with jealousy over Gray – again. I couldn’t help glancing at Gunner, wondering just how much they’d picked up after I’d left. No matter what Gunner said, I saw Gray and knew she was attractive. How could anyone say no to her?

  “Get into the bunker in case any of the weekend workers get in before we get back. It’s past eleven.” Brock stood, pushing a side button on the wall and waiting for the recessed door to open. “And get that mess cleaned up.” He referred to my wound, but I was watching Gray as she saw the door open.

  Gray gave a mini gasp and sudden pride flooded me. Yeah, we did pretty well and we had situations in place to even protect ourselves. Seeing it through a newcomer’s eyes left me impressed as well.

  I followed behind Gray as she limped into the room. She’d been hurt and I hadn’t had a chance to ask her what she’d survived. Would she open up to me?

  The bunker-style apartment was well-lit and contained. A set of beds set up like bunks lined the wall to the right. Opposite the bunks with their crisp sheets and tightly tucked blankets, a kitchenette offered a modest sized fridge, a four-burner stove, and a single oven. More things had been stored in practical places behind cabinet doors.

  A table with four chairs manned the floor closest to the entrance and we walked by as Gray leaned on the doorjamb and then moved to trailing her fingers on the chair back nearest her.

  It wasn’t until I glanced down at her hand and saw purplish marks lining her wrist that I stopped her by grabbing the loose material of the sweatshirt at her elbow.

  She stopped and turned, something in her eyes begging me not to ask, not yet.

  Gunner and Brock called out their goodbyes and the door slid shut.

  If I didn’t ask right then, I’d never get another chance. If I didn’t ask and get her talking, I’d long to touch her. That would never do if I didn’t know what she was dealing with mentally.

  Just what had she been through?

  Chapter 15

  Gray

  Suddenly I was alone with Stryker.

  That wasn’t something I was ready for. I glanced around the impressive bunker with its tight spaces and I realized how long it had been since I’d had a shower. Biting my lower lip, I glanced at Stryker who hadn’t stopped staring at me with an enigmatic expression on his face. “Does this place have a shower?”

  His gaze darkened more, but he nodded. “Hold on.” He moved to the side wall beside the beds I hadn’t looked too closely at and pushed on a side handle I hadn’t noticed, thinking it was part of the design for aesthetics.

  The door slid open and a bathroom ten feet by ten feet was revealed. Stryker motioned me inside, pointing toward various items as he spoke. “The water is flash heated, so you won’t run out of hot water. There are some shampoos and conditions in there.” He shook his head. “They’re more male products than girls, sorry about that.”

  “I just want a shower. It’s… been a while.” I didn’t want to focus on what I’d been through. I didn’t even want to talk about what he’d been through, though as I let my gaze travel down the length of his chest, I couldn’t help seeing more evidence of what had happened.

  My cheeks flushed at the heat flooding my lower body as I took in the planes and lines of his body. Everything was on display that wasn’t covered by the silky black shorts.

  I motioned lamely toward his shoulder and then moved past him to the sink. A collection of small blue washcloths had been stacked neatly beside the sink next to bottles of soaps, lotions, and salves. “Here, let’s clean you up first. Then I’ll get a shower.” I turned on the sink faucet, getting the top cloth wet before ringing it out.

  I turned, inhaling quickly at how close Stryker had moved. I swallowed; more nervous he could smell me than anything.

  Watching his face, I reached up with the cloth and moved the material around the wound, careful not to touch it directly at first. I scrubbed at the blood stains on his skin and the little patches of dirt around the shot. Shaking my head, I moved around his side to clean it up from behind.

  I let my gaze rove over the muscles of his back and as I ran the cloth around his wound and then down his shoulder blade, I continued moving the wet square in my hands. I moved it across his back, the muscles tensing and rippling as I moved, entrancing me. I went lower, my hand following the indent of his waist with the cloth and I caught a glimpse of goose bumps on his arms.

  I’d taken it too far and I knew it. But did he know it? Did he know blood and dirt weren’t all over his body or could he guess that I had no business touching him like I was?

  Suddenly shy, I backed up, and realized we faced the mirror and I could just barely see past his shoulder into the glass. Our eyes met.

  He knew. He knew I couldn’t stop touching him. Had he seen my face as I’d watched the cloth move across his skin? My stomach clenched as I realized I’d touched him more than he’d wanted or asked.

  I cleared my throat again. I wasn’t used to being nervous around guys. The feeling didn’t sit well with me. I stepped around him, rinsing the cloth in the water, hoping he saw the dirt and blood as it rinsed into the white bowl.

  Breathing became difficult as the pressure of the tension between us grew stronger. Did he feel it, too? Did his heart pound when I was near? Or was that all me? Was the attachment one-sided? I could handle it, if it was, so long as he didn’t know how I felt.


  Something in my nerve endings told me he knew – that everyone knew – about how I craved him. That just made the embarrassment stronger.

  “Gray.” Just the one word spoken in a husky whisper made me close my eyes.

  If I looked at him, standing behind me with his shirt off, I wasn’t sure what I would do. Not that I didn’t want to touch him. Not that I didn’t want to be touched. But it had been a week since I’d had any control over where I peed or showered, or anything. I needed to wash myself and good. I had to scrub away the remnants of Dominick’s touch and Blaze’s beatings.

  I shook my head, but kept my eyes closed. Not right now. I wanted to beg him to understand in that moment. Not right then. Please. But I kept my eyes closed and leaned forward imperceptibly away from him. He had to leave. I had to clean up. I had to fix what I could.

  “I’ll leave you alone.” His voice was as close to normal as he could get it under the circumstances.

  I however might never be normal again. The door slid shut and I released my breath on a whoosh. Reaching up, I unzipped the sweatshirt and draped it over the toilet seat, followed by the pants.

  I didn’t want to wear the sports bra or the shorts. Ever again. A small garbage can under the sink beckoned and I stripped off the offending pieces of clothing and tossed them in.

  I stood there in my nakedness and glanced in the mirror, wincing at the sight of the purples, blues, reds, and greenish-yellows that mottled my skin. There were more bruises and abrasions than there was creamy peach flesh. From my collarbones down, my body was a topical map of beatings.

  No wonder I hurt.

  I moved to the shower, sighing as I turned the water to hot and then climbed in. The heat was instant and I reveled in it as I adjusted the temperature to my liking.

  Scrubbing my hair and skin could have been a religious experience. I could feel the hell of the last week rinse away with the soap and shampoo. There were no razors in the stall, but that was fine. I wasn’t a particularly hairy girl and could usually go weeks at a time without shaving my underarms or my legs and still be fairly hair free.