The Beat and The Pulse Box Set 2

by Amity Cross

  That night, after churros, Faye took me to The Underground.

  In the space of four days, I’d made two friends, had a makeover, learned how to do my makeup properly, and scored plenty of new clothes to compliment my new look. I could mix and match with some of my old things and still look great. Bonus points for the pieces that doubled as work clothes. Those water cooler bitches wouldn’t know what hit them when I walked in on Monday morning‬. ‬‬‬‬‬

  Sixty dollars had never gone so far in my entire life.

  “How do you feel?” Faye asked as we approached The Underground.

  “Like a different person,” I replied. “It’s amazing.”

  “It’s already working,” she said mysteriously. “Now for the final test.”

  Taking a deep breath, I brushed my palms over my new leather-look Moto leggings and checked the knee-high heeled boots Faye had picked for me at the sample sale. I’d never owned something so luxurious in my life, and I’d gotten them for a steal. Almost ninety percent off retail price.

  Making sure the button of my cobalt blue blouse was secure over my breasts, I flipped up the collar of my trusty leather jacket and smoothed my hair forward over my shoulders. There. Now I was ready.

  The moment we walked into the warehouse, Faye grabbed my arm. “C’mon, let’s find Liam. I can’t wait to see his face! He’s going to jizz in his pants.”

  “He is not,” I said, embarrassed when I felt my own juice working its way to the surface at the mention of his name.

  What would he say when he saw me? Would he like my new look? I shook my head, trying to clear my stupid thoughts. I’d known him for, like, three days. Get over it.

  “Blade!” Faye yelled, spotting him through the crowd.

  Wriggling out of her grasp, I lingered behind her, suddenly shy. The imminent arrival of the man I had developed an epic ladyboner for had forced me back into my shell, the confidence I’d conjured up outside fleeing the scene. Traitor.

  He emerged through a group of people, looking hot as ever in a tight T-shirt and jeans, his tattoos snaking up and down his arms giving him the air of danger that seemed to drive every member of the female sex wild…including me.

  His gaze met mine, and he stared, completely confused. He looked like he’d just been hit by a truck, and I glanced at Faye who was laughing like it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen in her life.

  “Holy shit,” Liam said, his mouth falling open. Reaching out, he picked up a strand of my hair and twirled it around his thick fingers. “Ali?”

  “Told you,” Faye said before disappearing into the crowd.

  Liam’s lips curved into a grin, his gaze raking over my body. “There she is,” he murmured. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled, beaming up at him. He’d just made all my dreams come true, and he didn’t even know it.

  His brow creased. “For what?”

  Standing up on my tiptoes, I kissed him on the cheek, the gesture coming out of nowhere. He shook his head, his smile widening.

  “You know what,” I said, caught in his gaze. “I’ll never be able to repay you.”

  6

  Liam

  I’d wanted women before, chased them even, but none of them had ever knocked me for six.

  I felt the lingering flutter of Ali’s lips on my cheek and mixed with the recent memory of kissing her, I felt my cock twitch.

  “Of course, you’ll be able to repay me,” I said.

  She tilted her head to the side, her silky hair sliding over her breasts.

  “Not like that,” I went on hastily. “I mean…”

  Fuck, what was wrong with me? I was a cage fighter, not a pussy.

  “If you say so.” She shrugged, glancing away. “Are you fighting tonight?”

  “No,” I replied, thankful for the change in conversation. “I’ve had three in a row this week. That was pushing it. Four would be bad news. I don’t want to get cocky.”

  “So you’re winning enough points?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a good clip,” I replied.

  “What do you get if you win?”

  “The Championship?” I raised my eyebrows. “Well, it changes every year, but it never drops below a million.”

  “A million…”

  “Dollars.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You’re shitting me.”

  I smirked, liking how Ali’s new look had caused her to grow more brazen. Just like my fists were my armor in the cage, her outward appearance had become hers. It was a shit world we lived in to suppose beauty meant more than intelligence.

  “Do you want a drink?” I asked. “Then we can go sit if you want.”

  Ali smiled, her whole face lighting up. “Sure.”

  At the bar, she ordered a bottle of sweet cider, and I handed over the cash before she could fish out the purse from her pocket. Faye was working her shift, and as she moved past, she gave me a look that said ‘don’t fuck with her.’ I wasn’t that stupid, but my cock had taken on a life of its own from time to time. The ultimate male excuse. Blame it on being horny.

  She followed me past the cage, which was empty as fights were being switched over, and to a quiet corner at the very back of the warehouse. It was near the place I’d found her pinned by Mountain, and I bristled at the memory. He was a nasty son of a bitch, and there were no prizes for guessing what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been walking by that night.

  We sat on a two-seater vinyl couch against the wall, my eyes darting to the place I’d first seen her. Scared, caught, and completely out of her depth. I’d laid that kiss on her in order to drive the point home with Mountain, but…

  “I suppose everyone’s here to win the Championship,” she said, bringing my attention back to her. “Why do you want to win? Just for the money?”

  “It’s life changing,” I replied. “There’s a guy who used to fight here who won a few million a couple of years back. He used the cash to start his own business. Maverick was his fighter name. He had a rough go of it before and turned it around. He’s really successful now. He coaches fighters for the AUFC, and his gym is one of the best in the country.”

  “Do you want to be like him?” she asked.

  Glancing at her, I nodded. “Something like that. My own version.”

  “What would you do with the money?”

  I was past talking about myself, so I turned the question around on her. “What would you do with a million dollars?”

  “Me?” Her eyes widened.

  “Yeah, you.”

  “Well…” She thought for a moment. “I’d quit my job for starters.”

  “Not a fan?”

  “It’s…I don’t fit in there.”

  “Okay,” I said, sensing it was a sore point. “You’d quit your job. Then what?”

  Her gaze fixed on her drink, her lips curving upward slightly. She had a dreamy look about her as she thought about her heart’s desire. “I’d buy a little house someplace quiet. Something that didn’t need a lot of upkeep. A home.”

  I frowned, wanting to wrap my arm around her back, but I curled my fingers into tight fists instead.

  “A home?” I prodded.

  “I haven’t had one in a long time,” she replied, shrugging.

  The gesture was becoming repetitive, and I knew it was one of her tells. She was cut up about something, and her default reaction was to shrug it off. Like no one had cared to listen before.

  “You live someplace, though, right?”

  “That’s the point,” she replied, picking at the label on her bottle of cider. “They’re just places I’ve lived. Nothing more.”

  I studied her, my mind ticking over. Most women wanted things like marriage, babies, a hot boyfriend, and a diamond engagement ring but not Ali. All she seemed to want was someplace to belong. Someplace that was hers. A home.

  Her head dipped forward, and her hair slipped from behind her ear, covering her face. Reaching out, I tucked the strands back into pl
ace. My fingers brushed against her cheek, and her gaze met mine.

  An overwhelming urge to comfort her rose, to pull her close and wipe away her tears and taste her lips again. Sucking in a deep breath, I turned away, my cock desperately needing to be rearranged.

  “If you want it bad enough, you’ll find a way,” I said. “It’s not always easy, but you’ll get there.”

  Silence opened between us, and we sat awkwardly. I didn’t know what to say after that, but finally, she spoke.

  “So if you’re not fighting tonight, why are you here?” she asked.

  “I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

  “What, no girlfriend? No hot date?”

  I smirked at her blatant fishing. “No. Nothing like that.”

  “Why not?”

  It was the perfect question, really. I could walk out into the warehouse and take my pick of any woman, take her home or out back, and fuck until I was blind. If I wanted to make a long-term thing with any of them, they would bend over backward on my cock to please me, but it wouldn’t be real. They wanted what was on the surface. My body, my stamina…my money. They didn’t care about anything else. Finding someone who gave a shit about all the other parts over what they could personally gain…that was a rare bird indeed.

  Turning, I plucked at the collar of Ali’s shirt, my hand coming dangerously close to her breasts. “Who knew what I would awaken when I teamed you up with Faye.”

  “Too many questions?” she asked, her body tensing.

  “For someone who could hardly look at me a day ago…” I trailed off and reached for her cider. Lifting the bottle to my lips, her gaze locked onto my mouth as I downed a mouthful.

  If I wanted to kiss her, now was the perfect time. I would put down the bottle, grasp her face in my hands, and when she gasped, my tongue would plunge against hers, devouring her. I’d make her wet and wanting until she begged me to take her home. When we got back to my apartment, instead of going to the bedroom, I’d strip her naked, spread her over the kitchen table, take a seat between her legs, and…

  I grunted, breaking away from her. Putting the bottle back onto the table, I felt like heading out back and taking a cold shower. There were women you could have a bit of fun with who wouldn’t fall in love with you the moment you kissed them, and then there was Ali. There was a wide-eyed vulnerability about her that was hot as hell, but I knew it would be wrong to take advantage.

  If she was looking for romance, she wouldn’t find it here.

  Ali coughed nervously, picked up the bottle, and started picking at the label again. Little pieces of paper fluttered into her lap, but she seemed oblivious to the mess she was making.

  “Why do you fight?” she asked out of nowhere. “I mean… When I saw you the other night, I was shocked. Aren’t you afraid of getting hurt?”

  I guess this place was confronting the first time anyone came here. You could describe it with all the adjectives in the dictionary, but seeing it was another thing entirely. I couldn’t bullshit her if she asked. There were guys who had to be wheeled out on a gurney and taken to the hospital. There’d been guys who’d died—not many—but they’d bit the dust. Everyone understood the risks of fighting here. There was no forcing anyone to get in that cage.

  “It’s cage fighting, Ali,” I said. “No one goes in there with the illusion they’re not going to get hit. No one is invincible.”

  “So why do you do it?”

  It was my turn to shrug.

  “You don’t have anything else you could be doing?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t.”

  I glanced away, my cock softening. I wouldn’t need that cold shower after all.

  “Listen, I’ve got to go,” I said. “You good?”

  She looked disappointed, but she nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  Rising to my feet, I hesitated, beginning to feel bad I’d brushed her off so abruptly. I offered her a small smile. “You look really good, you know.”

  Edging around the coffee table, I strode off, leaving Ali behind.

  Getting involved with her would be bad. Very bad.

  7

  Alison

  It was more than a makeover.

  With Liam’s introduction and Faye’s help, I now saw the beginning of a plan to drag myself out of the pile of shit my life had devolved into. It mightn’t have looked like much from the outside, but underneath the surface, it was a life-changing metamorphosis.

  As I walked down the street toward the office, I wondered about the handsome cage fighter and the beautiful bartender. Could I call them my friends? I wasn’t really sure.

  There’d been times I was desperate for a friendly face and some human connection. I’d thrown myself in with the wrong crowds and gotten walked all over. After a while, I stopped trying. My attempts always ended up the same way, so what was the point?

  I looked at Liam, and I saw the dreaded word romance. Romance equaled rejection in my world, and I couldn’t help recalling the way he’d acted on Saturday night‬. Was it the makeover? Or was he picking up on my unrequited attraction? I didn’t know. Either way, he’d hightailed it after the conversation had gotten a little too personal. I wasn’t surprised, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t disappointed. He was the first person who’d spoken to me like I mattered in a long time. That meant something to me. ‬‬‬‬‬

  Standing outside the office, I pushed my thoughts aside and checked my blouse. The button was still done up, the silky material draping perfectly over my breasts. There was no gaping hole and definitely no safety pin needed. Raking my hands through my hair, I wiggled my toes in my boots.

  I glanced at the time on my phone. Eight fifty. Usually, I would’ve already been sitting at my desk for half an hour doing work I wasn’t paid for, but today, I was rocking up just on time. Good.

  Step one was complete, and now it was time to suck it up and go inside. I felt like puking into the pot plant by the door.

  Swiping my security tag on the sensor, I pushed inside the office, my stomach rolling. My gut instinct was to put my head down and hurry to my desk, avoiding eye contact at all costs. It was the same thing I did every morning, but today, I was determined to look up.

  I’d just had the weekend of my life, and I wasn’t about to stop the momentum. I needed to gather every last shred and use it to my advantage. It wasn’t enough to merely look the part, I had to play it a well.

  Black pencil skirt, knee-high boots with a killer heel, cream long-sleeved blouse with black polka dots, and black fitted blazer with a cute little bow that sat over the small of my back. Minimal makeup, my lips coated in a blushed red, eyes dusted with a smoky copper, and lashes inky black. I thought I’d done really well this morning.

  Turning onto the office floor, I held my head up high, striding through the open plan like I was on a catwalk. Silence. I dumped my bag onto my desk and turned on my computer. Silence. Walking back to the kitchenette, I took out the tin of instant coffee. Murmurings.

  Glancing up at the water cooler, Susan, Fiona, and their minions were staring at me, their mouths open.

  “Can I help you with something?” I asked.

  Susan curled her lip in distaste and turned away. “Did you hear about Marcia in accounting?” she asked Fiona.

  “No,” was her reply. “What happened?”

  Rolling my eyes, I resumed making my coffee. Talk about underwhelming, but a niggling sensation at the back of my mind began to work its way forward. The way I looked wasn’t the problem.

  Back at my desk, there was a message waiting for me on my phone. It was from Faye.

  How did the grand entrance go?

  Texting back, I wrote, It was a nonevent, but at least they didn’t bitch about me. Not yet, anyway.

  Don’t worry about them. Shortsighted bitches. Are we going to see you this week? Liam’s got a fight on Wednesday, Faye replied.

  I glanced at my computer, my thoughts on anything but work. The last few days had been something out of
a fairy tale. I’d found a place where I was beginning to shine, and I didn’t want it to end. The Underground was bad news, but I found myself wanting to go.

  I wanted to hang out with Faye, but I wanted to see Liam more. Pressing my fingers to my lips, I smiled.

  Texting Faye, I typed, Sure. I’ll be there.

  “If you’re quite done…”

  I glanced up to find Susan, aka the stringy haired bitch, standing over my desk with a pout on her thin lips. It was our usual morning ritual. She would sneer down at me while handing off three-quarters of her daily workload. I would mutter something incomprehensible, and she’d smile triumphantly. At the end of each fortnight, she was paid twice what I did for doing next to nothing while I was still stuck on an entry-level wage, busting my guts for peanuts so I didn’t end up homeless.

  Not today.

  “I need these done by five,” Susan declared, handing me the shipping schedule, four manifests, and a pile of bookings that needed to be manually loaded into the system.

  I stared at the pile, then glanced up into Susan’s smug face. She was testing me, that much was clear. Well, if she wanted a bite, she would get her whole arm taken off.

  “I have time to do the schedule this afternoon, but the rest I can’t help you with.” I smiled sweetly. “Sorry.”

  Her mouth flapped uselessly as she stared at me in shock. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t have time,” I repeated, holding my ground. Picking up the paperwork, I shoved it back into her arms.

  She took the folders, her forehead creasing into one hell of a dirty look. The daggers were flying thick and fast.

  “If you have a problem with it, take it up with Matt,” I said, pointing to the office that housed the head of customer relations. “I simply don’t have time to do these.”

  “You were late today, and you’re sitting here on your phone,” she argued, clutching at straws.

  “It’s five minutes to nine,” I retorted. “I’m not required to start for another five minutes. Unless you want me to ask for three years worth of back pay? Half an hour a day, times…”