by E. M. Moore
A man looks up from his perch in the corner. His aging, gray hair around the temples adds a softer edge to a sharp face. The man does a double take when he sees Johnny and then moves toward us. “Sir,” the older gentleman says, shaking Johnny’s hand.
“Mr. Richmond, I take it?”
The guy nods in the affirmative. “Let me know if you have any questions.”
He gives me a pleasant smile and returns to his seat. I watch him go, brows pulling together in confusion. It’s not that he knows Johnny. I’m getting used to that by now. Johnny Rocket may as well be a celebrity for everyone who knows of him whether they’ve even met or not. I’m not getting that same sense in this instance. “Who’s that?”
“The owner,” Johnny clarifies. “My father contacted him to let him know we were going to come look at the place. There’s a rumor going around that he wants to sell.”
“So, you’re thinking it could be like the fight ring? Bets? Attendance? That kind of thing?”
“It’s a possibility.” He glances around the room, lips pulling together. He’s not very impressed with what he sees. “I think we might need to add some sex.”
I drown the urge to roll my eyes. “Like a racing strip club?”
His boom of laughter crinkles his eyes. “No, babe. I was just thinking maybe we could add some staff who were halfway decent looking.”
I shake my head at him.
“Oh, come on. You know sex sells. Why do you think everyone is dying for you to fight?”
I turn away from the cars lapping the track to face him. My hackles are up because if he’s insinuating people want to watch me only for my physique rather than my fighting skills, we’re going to have problems. I blink. “I’m a good fighter.”
“Well, yeah, that. Of course,” he quickly backtracks. “But you have other appeal too.” He runs his finger under the tiny strap of my top. Apparently, when I was at school today, Lynette dropped off a stack of clothes for me and apologized profusely about Glo. I only wish I could have been there to see if I could get a feel for whether Glo was still around or not. And when I say around, I mean breathing. Johnny locks gazes with me. “All the guys want to fuck you, and the girls want to be you.”
I don’t think that’s true. That’s his jealousy rearing its ugly head. “How will you ever stand letting me do it then?” I tease. Pushing his boundaries is fun.
His eyes flare. “Because I know who you’re coming home with at the end of the night, and any guy who touches you has a death wish. I think I’ve made my intentions clear.”
My body heats in response. I can’t help it if I find his possessiveness a turn-on. It’s a science-y thing, not a conscious thought. If I thought too much about it, my body would blaze with feminist outrage, but can’t a girl just want to feel possessed every now and then? Johnny would rip apart anyone who ever tried to hurt me. If they even just thought about it, he’d be there, setting the world on fire because of me. No, for me. The thought is oddly tantalizing.
“Can I get you guys anything?”
Johnny and I stay with our gazes locked before I tear my eyes away from his and blink at the woman who’s punctured my little bubble. She smiles, looking a tad awkward. I see now what Johnny meant about adding a little sex appeal to this place. The uniform seems to just be a pair of overalls with plaid shirts underneath. Not that I’m a proponent of women having to show off for marketing purposes, but a little more of that wouldn’t hurt the place. Maybe like a Hooters for the race track. That is, if Johnny and his father decide racing is even worth it.
Johnny orders us some appetizers and drinks and then asks for a table. When we’re sat in the middle of the room surrounded by giant TV screens, he leans in close. “If you’re looking into purchasing a business, you have to scope the current place out. Is the food good? How do the clientele act? What kind of people are they? This will all go into our decision whether we purchase the place or not. We’ve asked for their financial statements, and that will help, but it’s not quite that easy. If we get our food and it sucks, for example, we’ll know why they don’t do a lot of kitchen business. If there are fights in the stands, we know we’ll have to up security if we buy the place so the regular crowd will know that won’t fly anymore.”
I catch the gleam in his eyes, and my stomach flips. “You like this, don’t you?” I’m slowly piecing together the puzzle that is Johnny Rocket, and I like what I see. Well, most of it anyway. He’s redeemable.
“Regardless of what some people think, I’ve earned my spot in the Crew.” He leans back, a shadow crossing over his face. “I’m young, so I don’t always get the respect I deserve. I’ll have to be better than my father to gain their respect, and I will.”
I scoff inwardly. He’s already a better man than his father with little effort. The bacteria on the underside of my shoe is superior to Big Daddy K. Fuck. I need to change the subject before my face betrays everything. “You know, we haven’t really talked much about ourselves. Your mom…is she around?”
Johnny’s face shuts down. It doesn’t darken or harden, it just loses all emotion whatsoever except a vacantness that I can tell has been perfected over the years. “My mother left when I was a kid.”
“Your mother…left?” The leaving part more than anything is the most shocking piece of information out of his entire sentence. She got out? Holy shit. How did she do that?
It opens up so many questions in my head, including how and why, and whether Big Daddy K let her out or if she escaped. At the same time, though, I feel for the guy in front of me. As stoic as he’s trying to be, any time a parent leaves, whether purposefully or tragically, it sucks. His gaze darts to me and then moves away immediately. “It was a long time ago, Kyla. You can stop looking at me like I’m going to come apart.”
I sit up straighter in my seat, avoiding his gaze. I flick my stare toward the TV screens, but racing is boring as fuck, like I imagined. When the waitress brings our food, I’m happy for the change in context. Bringing up Johnny’s mom seems to have soured the night for him. He eats a mouthful of each dish we ordered and finishes his drink, but he doesn’t do it out of pleasure. He really is all business.
Me? I’m so hungry from training that I have no problem polishing off the different appetizers. They’re not over-the-top delicious, but they’re not terrible either. I mean, it’s fried food. It’s kind of hard to fuck up. Shortly after I practically lick the plates clean, Johnny asks for the check. The waitress tells us the owner covered it, so Johnny helps me stand. Placing my arm through his, we walk toward the older gentleman to thank him for our food. Johnny tells him they’ll keep in touch, but I can’t tell if he means it. He’s just on edge all the way around, which has more to do with the question I asked him than whether he thinks the track is a viable business decision.
All semblance of normal conversation is gone. It’s disappeared into the ether. Probably hiding wherever Johnny put his good mood because it certainly isn’t on him anymore.
Magnum follows us out of the box seating, and I bite the inside of my cheek. Here I am with two guys in shitty moods. I also left another at the gym, pissy because of who I was leaving with. I just can’t win today.
I catch a guy’s eye as we head toward the exit. He leans against the ticket booth flirting with the girl inside when he gives me a stare down that lasts far longer than necessary. He wobbles on his feet. “Hey there, sweetheart. Don’t you look like a peach?”
I ignore him and continue on, but Johnny pulls my arm out from around his. He moves so lightning fast, I look back to find his fist already connecting with the guy’s face. The girl inside the booth gives a short scream as Johnny tackles him, the collar of the guy’s shirt clenched in his hands as he leans over him. “Maybe you missed the fact that her arm was in mine.” He punches him square in the jaw, and the guy’s head whiplashes back, hitting the dirt behind him. A trickle of blood runs from his nose, and he groans.
Johnny’s shoulders heave as he gulps in air.
At first, neither Magnum nor I go for him. I’m not worried that the guy is going to try to hit him back. At this point, I’d be more worried that Johnny would lose his shit and just murder his ass. Instead, I watch as Johnny tries to collect his thoughts. He has one knee on the guy’s abdomen and one in the dirt. The girl in the booth has her hands over her mouth as she looks down at the scene. We’re probably too far away from the Heights for these two to know who he is, but that doesn’t mean they don’t understand when they’ve come across someone who gives zero fucks. Finally, I walk forward and place my hand on Johnny’s shoulder, squeezing him for good measure. He barely registers that I’m there. The internal war with himself still waging.
He peeks over at me. “Mine.”
I don’t like that word…necessarily. The way he’s saying it now gives me goosebumps from head-to-toe. I don’t know if it’s my body warning me off him or telling me that I really freaking like it when he says that. At least in this scenario.
I lick my lips. I can’t tell him the guy didn’t notice I was with him because he obviously did and was just drunk. Or didn’t care. I bet he wishes he cared now. “He’s not worth it,” I say instead, nose twitching over the smell of bitter alcohol. The guy probably won’t even remember how he ended up with a shiner a couple of hours from now.
I grab Johnny by the upper arm and drag him up. His suit is dusty now, and he’s got the shakes from adrenaline coursing through him.
Magnum doesn’t say a word through the whole thing. Hell, he doesn’t even blink as Johnny and I make our way toward the car.
Though we’re right next to each other, a divide splits Johnny and I now. On the surface, that outburst was about me, but I’d bet everything I have it wasn’t. It was about something much, much deeper.
Magnum holds the car door open for us, and I scoot in first with Johnny following right after. Magnum closes the door and while he’s walking around to the front seat, Johnny glances down at his knuckles and says, “Don’t bring up my mother again.”
If that’s what he’s worried about, he could’ve saved himself the trouble of warning me off because I won’t be making that mistake again. At least not to him.
We stay on opposite sides of the car, but I want to go to him. Not because I think the sudden urge to fight was about his mother, but because he just showed he has the capacity to feel deeply after all. It wasn’t something I was sure he was capable of, but now I know.
I slide over the seat and place my head on his shoulder. Even asshole bad boys need comforting every once in a while.
11
When the car comes to a stop, Johnny gets out so abruptly I almost drop to the leather seat. I glare at his back, moving after him as he stalks toward the elevators. We wait in tense silence as the elevator moves down to collect us. Magnum doesn’t follow us. Briefly, I glance over my shoulder and find him still in the car. The interior light is on, and he’s watching us, unmoving and unwavering. The back of my neck pricks, but then the elevator dings and we step inside.
In the confined space, it’s easy to tell just how heated Johnny is. For a moment, in the car, I thought he was better. I was wrong. His fists clench and unclench. He avoids looking at me, even though it feels as if I’m the only thing he wants to focus on at the same time.
I refuse to apologize for bringing his mother up. Isn’t talking about the past what people do when they’re in a relationship? Even a forced one?
Though, that’s just me being petty. I don’t think I’m being forced anymore. I hate that he’s upset. I want to make it better, which just makes me all that much more frustrated and lost. The elevator dings with each floor we move up, and with it, it’s like the countdown to a volcano erupting.
Johnny takes his phone out of his pocket when we reach their floor. He glares at the screen. “My dad needs to see me.”
Fuck that. I’m not sitting in his apartment thinking about how fucking furious he is right now. He claims he wants me so bad, then we can talk this out. “No.”
Johnny’s gaze moves to meet mine. His pupils dilate. “No?”
The elevator door opens. The two guards waiting outside immediately turn toward us, but it’s just another added layer of tension hovering over us. I shake my head. “Not before we talk this through.”
Johnny licks his lips. His pale blue eyes darken like a sudden storm surge. He grips my upper arm, practically dragging me past the two members of security, and we enter his suite with a flurry and a slammed door.
I slap his hand away from me. I know now. Johnny is better than this monster he turns into when he’s pissed. He’s better than this life. He has real feelings. He just needs to listen to them. He needs to trust other people who aren’t his father and have nothing to do with this life. “Don’t touch me if you’re going to touch me like that,” I fume. “You either touch me like I’m your girlfriend, or you don’t at all.” Johnny’s eyes flare, but I don’t stop there. “You go from telling me I’m beautiful one minute to scolding me the next. You trust me with shit, and then you shut me out.” I swallow, watching Johnny’s fists ball. He doesn’t scare me, but this talk does. “You hold me in bed like you don’t want to let me go, then dig your nails into my arm like a caveman, making sure I do your bidding. Which guy are you, Johnny? Can we talk calmly, rationally? Or do I have to worry every time you get upset you’re going to be…” I gesture toward him. “…this guy.”
His jaw hardens. He stretches his fingers out like he’s trying to ward off some of the tension. Or gathering it back up. It’s hard to tell with him.
“You make me this way,” he growls.
I shake my head. “Sounds like something an abuser would say. It’s my fault, right? It’s my—”
Johnny moves so fast, I flinch. I wait for the crack of his hand upside my head or another bite of his nails into my skin, squeezing me like he has before. None of that comes. Instead, his fingertips graze my cheek. “It’s you because I’ve never felt this way,” he says on a breath. “I’ve never wanted to keep someone safe before. From me. My life. My past. I didn’t know how hard it was going to be. How terrified I’d feel every second of the day when you’re not here, right here where I can keep you safe.”
My eyelids flutter open. The guy staring at me now wrenches my heart from me, making it pump for him despite all my attempts otherwise. “There you are,” I whisper, recognizing the guy I know is in there. He may be deeply hidden most of the time, but he’s there.
Johnny closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about my mom, but that’s not your fault. I don’t know how I’m going to keep you safe when I’m not around, but that’s not your fault either. I don’t know what to do with all these emotions, but again…” He slides his hands down over my shoulders and squeezes. “That’s not your fault.”
Our mirrored gazes draw us to one another. Recognizing that the same fucked up shit that’s in me is also in someone else is a silent call. I want to see what happens when we come together. It could be oh so perfect or burn entire cities to the ground. There is no middle ground with Johnny and me.
At this point, I don’t care. I’m sick of that voice in my head saying this isn’t a good idea. I’m sick of always second-guessing why these feelings come up when I’m around him. I should tell him he’s got to fucking stop giving me whiplash. Should make sure he knows he can’t touch me like that anymore, but instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and seal my lips to his. This kiss is scorching hot from the first moment. I meld into him as he moves his hands to my hips, pulling me closer. We devour each other, the tangle of our tongues and press of our lips ending in small sighs and moans captured by yet more kissing.
Liquid heat slithers straight to my core until I’m throbbing with need. I press against him, the tight ass dress shimmying up my thighs. The fabric comes to rest on the curve of my ass while Johnny roams his hands freely over my newly exposed skin, pulling me tighter against him like he can’t get enough.
I’m saliva
ting for him. My panties soak through. In one second, my breath gets knocked right out of me, while in the next, I drag in a whole lungful to sustain me. I rest my hands on his chest and then roam upward, taking his suit coat with me until it’s over his shoulders, down his forearms, and drops to the floor. He’s not wearing a tie, so I pull his button-down shirt out of his pants before resting my buzzing fingers at his fly. Brushing my fingers against his tight skin seals my decision. I unzip and unbutton his suit pants until they’re resting low on his hips.
He breaks the kiss, gaze searching mine. Dropping his hands to my shoulders, he moves the spaghetti straps of my dress down until the top pools outward giving him an ample view. Even my lungfuls of air don’t help. The dress tightens over my breasts with each breath, then slips lower when I release it.
Lowering his gaze, he focuses on my chest and each minute movement. “I’ve been wanting to see these,” he purrs, the top finally dipping past my nipples. If he was thrumming with energy before, he’s high off it now. He dips his head, flicking his tongue over my left nipple.
I moan and hike my leg up like I want to climb him. My dress rips, slowly giving way until my leg is securely around his hip. Johnny’s mouth quirks, but then he pulls my leg higher, ripping the dress even further as he lifts me into the air. I cross my ankles over his ass as he takes another mouthful of my breasts now that they’re in his face. He doesn’t mind. He feasts on them like they’re his last meal. I drop my head back, reveling in the sensations he ignites in me while begging him to drop me lower so I can seek the hardness I need.
“I’ve been jerking off every fucking day to you,” Johnny growls. He nips at my nipple, and I shudder.