by Juniper Hart
“I thought you were supposed to be my agent,” Jordan muttered.
“I am!” James looked surprised at the statement. “Can’t an agent give his best client a present?”
“A present would be setting me up with a title match, promoting me, and helping me train, not enabling my downfall,” Jordan retorted. James lost his superficial grin, and a look of evil flashed over his face. He peered at Jordan and seemed to sense that his client’s feelings toward him had changed.
“First of all, I think a pretty good goddamn present is getting your life saved when you were stupid enough to get involved with a loan shark. Secondly, I am not offering you something that you aren’t already doing to yourself, so get off your high horse, Southy.”
“Yeah, great agent. Got me an awesome gig running for the mob. Is that why you’re handing me coke? Am I going to become a mule as a promotion?”
“You know what, Jordan? You’re right. I probably shouldn’t be giving you coke. You’re jacked up enough as it is. You’re beginning to sound paranoid. You should probably give it a rest for a while.”
Little did James know that since Samantha had returned to his life, Jordan hadn’t touched the junk and had no intention of ever doing it again. But he kept that information from his agent.
Former agent. When I get out of this mess, I’ll never deal with James again. But first, I need to find a way out of this debt.
“I’d like to give you a rest for a while, but I guess that’s not really an option, is it?” Jordan snapped back. “Get that shit and get out of my face.”
James looked wounded by his tone but reached down to retrieve the baggie.
“No good deed,” he muttered as he headed toward the door.
“Yeah, you’re a fucking saint, James. Thanks for everything.”
James paused at the doorway and scowled. “I’ll text you the name and address of your next job. Do me a favor and don’t call me. I’ll call you.”
“Ugh, I’d rather you didn’t.” Jordan was already shoving the man into the hallway when the words left his lips. He locked the deadbolt and leaned against the wall, breathing shakily. He knew he probably shouldn’t have spoken to James that way, but James was becoming more and more of a thorn in his side.
Somewhere, Jordan had come to his senses and realized that the agent was not on his side and probably never had been. James had managed to create a riff between him and Harley to the point where Harley had completely given up on contacting him.
You did a good job alienating Harley all by yourself, Jordan recalled. He thought of what incredible support Harley had provided him over the years, and he felt shame wash over him as he remembered his last words to the man. Since Samantha had miraculously returned the previous week, Jordan had abruptly stopped using coke and drinking altogether.
He wanted to relish every second he had with her, inhaling her scent, tasting her skin, looking into her face. He did not want to waste a single memory cell on booze or drugs.
He dared not ask about Marco, but he sensed that the two were having problems. Several times, Samantha had opened her mouth, like she wanted to explain the entire sordid situation to him before she thought better of it. Jordan was cynical enough to expect Samantha to return to her husband, though he did not allow himself to let his thoughts venture there.
When she leaves you again, you’ll have all the time in the world to drown your sorrows, he thought wryly. Until that horrible moment, you must remain clear-headed and stay focused on her. The truth, however, was that he had no interest in ever touching the drugs again. He was clear-headed now, understanding fully what was happening around him. Samantha had given him the gift of insight somehow. It’s true what they say about foxes. They are magical—more magical than any other creature in the Enchanted.
Now that he was sober, he was also a ball of pent-up energy. He needed to train again. The problem was, he didn’t know how to approach Harley.
“He loves you, Jordy. Just go to Sky Train and tell him you’re sorry,” Samantha had told him. Jordan had shaken his head.
“I was pretty nasty to him,” he told her. “He won’t forgive me after the way I spoke to him—not that I blame him.” He didn’t mention the downward spiral he had sunk into after she had married Marco. He didn’t want her to feel bad for him, to think that he would be broken without her, even if he would be. Yet the past was the past, and they could do nothing other than move forward.
Beyond that, Jordan was terrified that Harley would discover what he had been doing for Alex Carlucci. He was certain there would be absolutely no forgiveness for the horrors he had caused other people. He was not even sure he could forgive himself for what he’d done.
Jordan pushed himself off the wall and did some stretches. He had begun to do some light training at home, but as he bounced around throwing air jabs, he knew that he needed to get out of the house.
I’ve hidden long enough. It’s time to be the alpha you claim to be and regain your position in society, he told himself firmly. He made his decision and was on the move before he could change his mind. Regardless of the outcome, he was going to see Harley.
“That’s it, Southy! Left, left, right, left!”
The half dozen men and two women in the gym cheered him on as he attacked the punching bag.
Jordan blocked out the noise and watched his target, throwing hooks in a flurry of movement, his hands and feet flying through the air as if he was alone in the gym. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harley emerge from the office, arms folded over his lean chest, watchfully taking in the scene. Jordan could not make out his mentor’s expression but had a feeling that Harley was not impressed with his presence.
Jordan had simply walked into the gym like he had never left, thrown down his bag, and began hitting. Almost immediately, the members recognized him and formed a circle around him, chanting his name and calling out moves. Jordan was brought back to childhood when he was enveloped in a band of jeering, led by Derrek Jameson.
Oh, how things change.
Jordan finished his battering on the vinyl and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Jordan! Can you spar with me?” one man cried, rushing in to clap him on the back.
“Me too, please?” There was a chorus of pleas, but Harley stepped forward, ending the adulation in a growling tone.
“Later. Right now, Southpaw and I are gonna have a little chat, okay?” Although a round of disappointed protests ensued, the group obligingly dispersed, and Jordan followed Harley back into the office.
“Harley—”
“Shut up.” His voice was like lightning, and Jordan immediately closed his mouth. He had never seen Harley so furious, and he didn’t want to push the issue. “You have a lot of nerve showing your face back in here.”
“I know. I—”
“I said, shut up.”
“Sorry.”
“I have sacrificed a lot for you, Jordan. Do you know why?” Jordan didn’t answer, unsure if he was allowed to speak. The question was apparently rhetorical. “Because I believed in you. You were this gangly little shit when you walked in here back then, starving and mad at the world, but I saw something in you. I knew you could be a champion. So, I helped you see your potential. I tried to teach you and make you a man.”
“You did, Harley! You’ve been like a father to me!”
“Yeah? Like your shithead father? The one who you still wrestle with to keep under control?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why do you treat me like that? Why would you shut me out when you’re going through shit? We all go through shit, Jordy. That’s when you need your support system the most. You don’t shut out the people who love you and treat them like garbage.” Harley paused for a second, and Jordan thought he saw his face soften slightly. “Maybe that’s the entire problem,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jordan. “Maybe you only know how to continue the cycle, not break it.”
“That’s not true!” Jorda
n insisted, loathing that Harley could read him so easily. “I can break the cycle.”
“Can you? You don’t seem to be successful at it so far.”
“I know, Harley. I understand why you think that, but…” He stopped to catch his breath, to explain what was going through his mind. “I was going through a rough time after Samantha left, and I didn’t know which way to go.”
Harley grimaced. “But now you do? Or you do for five minutes before you fall off the path again?”
Jordan was uncomfortable for a moment. A part of him wanted to blurt the entire sordid story about James and Alex Carlucci into Harley’s ear, but a well-honed instinct held him back.
“Yeah. Samantha is back in my life. I’m off the drugs now, Harley. I swear. Not even drinking. I won’t touch the stuff. Only training. That’s the only thing I want to do.”
Harley peered at him suspiciously.
“What do you mean ‘Samantha is back?’ She divorced her husband?” Jordan looked down at his hands. “Jordy, you can’t run around with a married woman. That’s how this all started in the first place.”
“It’s different now, Harley. She really doesn’t love this guy. She’s—”
“Going to leave him? Isn’t that what she told you before?”
Jordan felt his temper flair, but he kept himself from exploding. He doesn’t understand mates. He’s a mortal. No one can ever understand the way the Enchanted are connected if they don’t have our blood running through them.
“Listen, having Samantha around is a good thing. With her in my life, I only want to be with her and box.”
Harley’s mouth was paper thin, white, and Jordan could tell he was resisting the urge to argue further.
“And what if she breaks your heart again?” he asked. “Then what?”
“She won’t,” Jordan assured him, but even as he spoke the words, he wasn’t so sure. There’s something else going on with Samantha, something I need to figure out. And I will.
The following day, Jordan brought Samantha to Sky Train. In spite of his resolve to hate her, Harley found himself completely enamored with the fairy-like redhead, and he understood why Jordan was so smitten with her. The more he spoke to her, the more Harley realized that she wasn’t the medusa he had been expecting. She had an unassuming, unpretentious air about her, and her down-to-earth nature made him feel instantly at ease.
But she’s cheating on her husband. You can’t forgive what that’s doing to Jordan. Yet even that fact couldn’t stop the trainer from chatting with her as if they’d known one another for years. He felt like he’d met her before, or that she reminded him of someone he’d known.
As Jordan sparred in the ring with a college kid, Harley turned pointedly toward Samantha, hating himself for ruining the rapport between them.
“Do you really intend to leave your husband?” he asked bluntly. To her credit, Samantha’s expression didn’t falter, and she nodded slowly.
“I’ve already tried,” she explained quietly. “And he’s my husband in name only. That’s all he ever was to me.”
The answer was curious, but before Harley could press the issue, Jordan’s phone went off in Samantha’s hand.
“Jordy! Your phone!” Samantha called to him, turning her head away to call out to her lover.
Instantly, Jordan’s head turned toward Samantha, his face visibly paling.
Why does he look so concerned about a text? Harley wondered. Jordan bowed out of the fight and jumped down to grab the phone from Samantha before Harley could see who was messaging.
“Thanks,” Jordan said to her, placing a kiss on her cheek. She giggled almost girlishly, but Harley was too distracted to notice the sweetness of the moment. Jordan was acting decidedly strange.
I’m not being paranoid. I have every right to be suspicious of everything Jordan does now. He’s betrayed my confidence too many times, Harley reasoned, though there was something else going on, something sickeningly familiar in the pit of his stomach. Something Harley didn’t want to admit.
Jordan glanced down at the text, and the trainer watched the blood drain out of his face. He looked up at Harley and then to his lover.
“Is something wrong?” Samantha asked, noticing his expression. Jordan shook his head and forced a smile on his face.
“No. But I have to go.”
Harley eyed Jordan sharply, suspecting something amiss.
“Where?” he demanded bluntly.
“What are you, my keeper now? I have a life outside of here,” Jordan said jokingly, but his brown eyes were almost black with shadows. “You ready, Sam?
She nodded and smiled at Harley.
“It was lovely meeting you, Harley,” she told him, extending a smooth hand. “I hope I get to spend more time with you.”
“Oh, don’t be so formal. Unless you’re too beautiful to give an old man a hug,” Harley joked, opening his arms, even though his gaze was still trained on Jordan. Samantha laughed and embraced the trainer.
“Okay, you pervert, that’s enough,” Jordan cackled, snaking an arm around Samantha’s slender waist. “I can take you if I have to.”
“You haven’t beaten me yet, son,” Harley jested back, throwing his protégé into a headlock. The two wrestled around for a minute like kids on a playground before they released one another.
Harley watched the couple walk out the door. When he was sure they were gone, he unfurled his closed hand, where he held Jordan’s cell phone. He felt a smidgen of guilt having taken it without Jordan noticing, but he needed to know what was going on. He guessed Jordan’s passcode on the first try.
The kid had been using his mother’s birthday as a code forever, Harley thought wryly. He scrolled through the texts, and when he saw James’ name, his blood ran cold. Harley clicked the icon and read the text in disbelief. Slowly, he turned off the phone and hung his head in defeat, almost physically sick to his stomach as he understood the implication of the address he’d read there without any other context. After all, he had seen messages like this before, when he’d been young and idealistic, too.
James, that son of a bitch, had claimed another victim.
14
“You’re gonna be a boxing champ! And I’m gonna be your agent!” James crooned gleefully as he punched Harley roughly in the arm before jumping to his feet. “I’ve never seen anyone fight like you, Harley!”
Harley laughed and punched his best friend back.
“How are you gonna be my agent? You don’t know anything about boxing. You don’t know anything about anything except how to be a loudmouth asshole,” he joked. James looked hurt, but he quickly backed up his assertion.
“I could be your agent! You need to have a loudmouth to get the word out there.” Harley smiled to soften his jab and nodded. If anyone had potential to be his agent, it would be James.
“That’s true. Hey, maybe you can get a fight going between me and Tony Gallo. That jerk keeps asking out Trixie, even though he knows she’s my girl.”
“Too easy. You need to fight someone good, like Andy Bellini. He’s an ape. If you beat him, I bet you Mr. Carlucci will notice you!”
The words sent a fission of alarm through Harley’s body. “I don’t want anything to do with Mr. Carlucci, James. That man is mob and bad news. My dad says that he looks for young kids like us to work for him because we don’t know any better.”
“Nah,” James snorted. “Your dad is just nuts. Mr. Carlucci ain’t bad. He likes kids, and he wants us to have a future. He didn’t have anything growing up in Italy. He’s a businessman trying to spread the wealth.”
“James, you gotta be careful. You shouldn’t be doing favors for him or his boys,” Harley warned. James laughed and punched him again playfully.
“You just worry about fighting, man. Let me worry about everything else.”
“Harley! What the hell are you doing here?” Harley pushed his way into the condo and stood facing James. “I had no idea you were in Chicago, or I would have co
me to pick you up at the airport. What brings you this way?”
Harley reached out and whacked the martini glass in James’ hand so it spilled all over his tie. James lost the faux friendly smile and glared at him defiantly.
“What the hell?” he hissed. “What is this bullshit?”
“Why don’t you tell me? What are you doing with my boy?” Harley snarled, advancing angrily. A look of understanding crossed over James’ face, but he tried to hide it, sinking back nonchalantly against the sofa.
“What did the little shit tell you?” he demanded, setting down the glass and folding his arms defensively. “It isn’t true.”
“That little shit is like my son, and I swear to God, James…” Harley balled his hands into a fist and took a menacing step toward the taller man. James paled at the nonverbal threat and stepped backward.
“He got into trouble all by himself. He came to me!” James squealed in a familiar way that sent shivers through Harley’s lithe, boxer form. “I was only trying to help!”
“The way you helped me?” he growled, advancing further. James was up against the window now and looking furtively around as if seeking help from the furniture.
“It’s not my fault!” he whined.
“It’s never your fault, is it? You just do the right thing all the fucking time, and everyone else gets into their own trouble. Is that it? What happened? How the fuck did you get Jordan running for Carlucci?” James was silent for a moment, and Harley could see the rolodex of lies filtering through his mind. “Tell me the goddamn truth for once, you bastard!”
James’ mouth tightened, and he glared at his former friend. “He owed him money. What did you want me to do?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, James. What did you do? Don’t you ever fucking learn?” The exasperation and fury racing through Harley’s bones was almost too much to bear.
“He did it to himself! I swear! I had nothing to do with it!”
“Then why didn’t you just clear the debt? You know you could have done that, but you’re too much of an opportunist for that, aren’t you?” James looked at his alligator shoes, unspeaking, and Harley clenched his jaw furiously. “You are and have always been a maggot, James. I don’t know why I thought you had changed. You have no talents but pimping. I can’t believe I trusted you with my boy.”