Diablo's Throne MMA Books 1-3

by HJ Bellus

  He pushes the door open, waiting for me to exit. “I train three times a day.”

  “Wow, impressive.”

  “These guns don’t appear overnight.” He flexes them for me.

  I laugh and push his arm down. “Whoa, there, Tiger.”

  “I also don’t drink or eat junk food while training.” He winks.

  “Interesting.”

  “Yeah, I’m justifying it with the fact you made me do it.”

  I let out another hearty laugh. “And if I were to tell you to jump off a bridge?”

  “I’d leap, it seems.” He shrugs and tucks his hands deep down in his tight blue jeans.

  “Have time for a walk?” I ask with a hopeful gleam.

  “Sure. You lead the way.”

  I crave to link my arm in his. The man is hot and a walking orgasm screaming for release, but it’s more than that. Cruz is comfort and protection. I forget all about the other ugly shit surrounding my life now.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, distracting my thoughts of wanting to hold Cruz. I don’t recognize the number, and right now nothing is more important than getting to know this man better. He makes me forget.

  “Need to take that?” he asks, peering down.

  “No.”

  I begin walking and relax when Cruz falls in step by my side. We walk in silence down the sidewalks of downtown Vancouver. It’s my favorite part of town with old buildings and mom and pop shops. It’s gorgeous, and I swear my soul lingers within the brick buildings. Dad’s gym is on the opposite end of town, so visiting downtown when I was younger was always a treat.

  “Cruz?”

  “Yeah.” He looks down at me.

  “Did you tuck me in last night?”

  He chuckles lightly. “If you call carrying you while passed out to bed and pulling blankets up to your chin tucking in, then yes I did.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “I would’ve changed your clothes, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong message.”

  “Thank you, Cruz.” I pause for a moment. “Did you clean up the kitchen?”

  He nods.

  I cry.

  He freezes, wraps me up in his arms, and hugs the hell out of me.

  “I’m so sorry, Layla,” he whispers into my hair. “It was the least I could do.”

  I can’t find words right now and let the rest of the tears fall. They all need to vanish from my body so I can focus on the funeral arrangements. I remain in Cruz’s arms, inhaling his scent until my senses come back to me. With enough energy, I step back from him and offer a weak smile.

  “Thank you for everything, Cruz.”

  He grabs my hand in his, and we continue to walk down the sidewalk. I’m cracked and raw to the world right now. Everything in my life has changed, and I have no clue what the future holds. I’ve never felt so lost in my life.

  “Layla.”

  I turn when I hear my name and nearly fall to the ground. Cruz picks up on my uneasiness and winds his arm low around my back to keep me from falling. Shelby Winters, my ex best friend, who fucked my ex-boyfriend in my college dorm room. Ash Chandler was my once love and forever future until I walked in on my best friend riding him like a wild bronco. Those two made me hate this town and everything about it.

  Shelby had been my best friend since kindergarten and Ash was my high school sweetheart. The cheating wasn’t the final thread that broke Ash and me apart. If it were only that simple. There was a chance I’d forgive him if it were black and white. It was the complete opposite. Ash ruined everything between us back then. My hands go down to my lower abdomen to protect what never had a chance. It was my papi, Abuela, and Jag who picked me back up.

  “I wondered if you’d come back home,” she purrs while nearing us.

  “How thoughtful of you,” I sneer back at her.

  Once upon a time, she crushed everything I believed to be right with the world and myself. How dare she come up to me?

  “Sorry, wanted you to know you’re in my thoughts.” She presses her palms to her chest. “She was like a grandma to me. I loved her.”

  “Seems you fancy loving things a bit too much.”

  “Layla, I’ll never be sorry enough.”

  My eyes land on the massive diamond ring on her finger. She follows my line of vision and moves her hand behind her back.

  “Wait, I’m so rude,” I over-exaggerate each word. “Cruz, this is my once best friend. We grew up together and were tied at the hip. I caught her riding my ex-boyfriend like a fucking champion one day. Shelby—this is Cruz, a new friend of mine.”

  Shelby knew the whole story, the hell Ash had put me through, and still chose to sleep with him. She was there with me for months while I cried at night, worried what the future held. She was there…until she chose his bed over me.

  Cruz clears his throat and nods his head. I stick out my chest in pride when he doesn’t acknowledge how nice it is to meet her.

  “It was a mistake. I’m sorry,” Shelby offers.

  “You’re a mistake.” The words are harsh, brutal, and piercing, like they are meant to be.

  “You should know…”

  “No, enough. Never talk to me again.” I turn, letting Cruz hold me to him and begin walking the other way. I keep my hands on my stomach, digging my fingers into my clothes. I loosen them up a bit, trying not to make the past scars too noticeable.

  We make it about a block and a half before the flip-flops on my feet, at least four sizes too big for me, catch on the lip of the sidewalk. I throttle forward, landing on my hands and knees. My sweats tear, the skin on my kneecaps are next, and I feel the light pebbles on the sidewalk scrape away layers of skin.

  “Jesus, Layla.” Cruz scoops me up in his arms and places me on a nearby bench.

  He bends down, examining my kneecaps and dabbing at them with the hem of his t-shirt. The damn tears commence, then a maniacal laugh assaults me. It’s so damn typical of my life. I get knocked down, back up on my feet, then eat shit while crumbling once again. I’m fucking sick of it, I’m exhausted from the tears, and only have a crazy-ass laugh left inside of me.

  “Are you okay?” Cruz looks up to me.

  “No,” I say between the manic laughter.

  He stands up after he’s pleased the bleeding has stopped and takes a seat next to me. We sit shoulder to shoulder on a bench in silence. He’s the first one to talk.

  “Was your ex Ash Chandler?” He remains frozen, staring out at the street.

  “Yes, he used to train with Dad. We went to high school together.”

  “Mmmm.”

  “He’s a fucking dickhead, pompous asshole, rotten bastard, and I hope he keels over from an itchy butthole.”

  Cruz lets out a deep chuckle. “This might not be the time, but you know about his dad’s gym?”

  “Oh yeah, the one made from money fueled by revenge.” I tap my fingers on the bench. “Stuff got real ugly between our families for a while. Papi kept his head held high while Ash’s family bought everything they had.”

  “Yeah, they’ve been giving your dad grief.”

  “Titan’s Tribe,” I mumble. “Dad never liked Ash. He tried to train him, but Ash never had respect and relied on his daddy’s money to get him through life.”

  “He’s a dick.”

  “I was so dumb.” We both continue to stare toward the main street. “I can’t believe I was so blind.”

  “We all do dumb shit.”

  “No, I was a dumbshit. Big difference.” I turn to stare at Cruz. “I left because of them. Turned my back on my family and left my father in all the turmoil. It’s something I’ll never forgive myself for. I was a coward.”

  Cruz twists a bit on the bench and runs his finger down my jawline. “Layla, I never met a parent more proud of his child. Don’t beat yourself up over the past. We all have shit that haunts us. Don’t let it control you.”

  I remain silent.

  “Easier said than done. Trust me, I know this,�
�� he says.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting like hell not to let this town bring me down. “Agreed.”

  Silence bounces back and forth between us for a long time. The only sound is the slow-moving traffic from the main road.

  “We need more doughnuts,” I mumble, grabbing Cruz’s free hand, lacing our fingers together.

  He moves slowly, looking down at our connection. A smile plays out on his face. It’s intoxicating and overwhelming at the same time.

  “Damn doughnuts,” he mutters.

  We both laugh. Cruz squeezes my fingers. The small gesture gives me hope. Hope I haven’t had in a long time. It’s a feeling that has held me prisoner for a very long time.

  Chapter 5

  Layla

  Dad hasn’t slept in his room since the day I came home for my visit. I can’t blame him since we all cope in different ways. I’ve reverted to doughnuts, Cruz, and avoiding as much as possible. Over the last week, I’ve spied on Cruz in the gym, not ready to admit how fucking sexy I find his body. At night he would take me out to eat then walk me home. One night we gorged on the few dozen tamales Abuela had finished. Cruz was shocked when I downed twelve of them. I had to sneak into the bathroom to pop a handful of Tums, though.

  The door creaks when I open the door to Dad’s room. His scent hits me hard. It’s always been the smell of home and love. His bed is made and everything is in its place like always. Dad is type A to the bone at home, but the gym is a different story. I catch a view of the picture on the nightstand. It’s been there since I can remember. It’s a picture of my mother. His true love.

  The memories of me telling him I hated her with every bone of my body when I was younger flood in. He’d always tell me I didn’t hate her. Then go on with a lecture about how hate will pull you down, and it’s not worth your effort. I’ll never understand how a kind, gentle giant like my father, once a fighting champion, became so wise.

  I sit on the side of the bed near the picture and find myself picking it up. I see aspects of me in her. The slight shape of my eyes and possibly my nose. I shake my head, knowing it’s only hope like I held when I was a little girl. I yearned for a few connections with her. My tears have long dried up, and even my anger toward her has begun to subside. Abuela was my mother. That beautiful gift was given to me the day my mother walked out on me. I should be thanking her for that.

  “Layla.”

  I nearly jump off the bed but keep the picture clutched to my chest. I turn to see Cruz leaning against the doorway with a hand on a hip. His white button-up shirt hugs his chest. He has the first few buttons undone, and a few more strain, taught across his pecs. The sleeves are rolled back, exposing intricate ink on his forearms.

  “Your dad sent me up for his suit.” He looks down at the picture I’m hugging to my chest.

  I place it back down on Dad’s nightstand and walk to his closet, pulling out his only suit, hanging in a garment bag.

  “You doing okay?” he asks when I hand him the suit.

  I nod. “I think so. I feel numb.”

  “That’s a normal feeling.” He bends down and kisses the top of my forehead.

  I clutch his hand. “Thank you for being here.”

  “No worries.” He turns toward the door and trots down the stairs.

  I’m ready to go down. I need to slip on my black high heels. I rub the pearl necklace around my neck, the one that Abuela always wore on holidays and special occasions. She’d chase me with her wooden spoon if she knew how much I was hurting. She was selfless and wouldn’t want any of this.

  The gym is somber when I walk in. All my father’s warriors are dressed up and standing behind him. It speaks worlds of his dedication to not only the sport but the men he molds and shapes. I notice Cruz right away. It helps that he towers over the rest of the men. He gives me a nod and a weak smile before I go to my dad’s side and grab his hand.

  His palm is sweaty and shakes in mine. The man who’s always been my solid foundation is cracking right in front of me. It fuels my desire to be his rock. It’s my turn to do it for him.

  We walk as one big family down to the church on the corner. The sleek hearse sits out front along with a small gathering. Abuela was well known in the community and very loved. She was the one to always offer a kind smile and a helping hand. She fed hungry bellies in the neighborhood and took in anyone who needed help.

  I keep close to Papi, never letting go of his hand. All the faces fade into static. I try my best to smile and nod to everyone, but I can’t tell you who is here and who isn’t. I stall for a bit when the casket comes into view. I feel a hand nudging me in the back.

  I peer over my shoulder to see Cruz’s honey whiskey eyes urging me on. It’s all I need to usher Dad to his seat. Once we are all seated the pastor begins with a prayer and life sketch. My dad cries silently next to me, breaking my heart one second at a time. I’ve never seen him physically hurt. He’s a man who is used to punishing his body and pushing it to extremes, but losing his momma has done him in.

  I vow at this moment to stay by his side for as long as it takes. I’ll be here for him. Hell, I’ll even help with the gym even though it’s not my favorite place. The great thing about nursing is there are jobs everywhere.

  When Dad is called up to give his speech, he doesn’t move. The man is crushed and unable to speak, so I get up and smooth out my black dress. My legs tremble as I walk up to the microphone. The faces remain a blur, and my heart cries out in pain with each beat. This is something no little girl ever dreams of. I know I’m a woman, but being raised in the shelter of my abuela and dad, I’ve always been their little girl at heart.

  “Th-Thank…” I pause, trying to control my voice. There are no tears threatening right now, but my voice is failing me. “My father and I would like to thank you for attending today. I have no words that would do my abuela any justice. If you’re sitting here today, then I know she’s touched your life in some way. She’s always been there for my father and me, but now she’s left us strong and smart. It’s now our turn to carry on her legacy.

  “I’ll always wear a slip with my dress, cook her recipes, and never give up finding the man of my dreams. Those are a few of the things she always wanted for me. I’ll admit my cooking isn’t near hers, but her life will live through it. I love you always and forever to the moon and back, Abuela.”

  I’m deflated by the time I get back to the pew. My father sits taller and smiles at me. He doesn’t need to speak any words. I know he’s proud.

  Jag drives us to the cemetery where my abuela will be laid to rest. I overheard my father on the phone when he purchased the plot. He bought four of them right next to another plot. One I never could see again. It would crush everything inside of me, and today I don’t have an option to avoid it. I didn’t have to ask why he did it. He wanted his mother surrounded by her family. One for her, him, me, and my future loved one…it was one of the final breakdowns I had.

  I keep waiting for the impending breakdown. I chalk it up to facing the facts and avoiding life. My dad leads his family when he gets out of the Escalade. Jag and Trick flank his side while I follow behind them. Cruz slips his hand in mine, and I give it a gentle squeeze. He’ll never know how much he’s meant to me during this time. He’s been my rock without even knowing it, and it makes me wonder if he had anyone when he lost his dad.

  The skies are gloomy with a haze of sorrow showering over us. Everyone is in black with somber looks on their faces. When her casket is lowered into the ground, I feel myself break inside. The heartache I’ve buried since planning her funeral begins to seep out. I struggle to contain it all. But sometimes the power is so strong nothing can stop it.

  Everyone has begun to disperse or is grouped up in light conversation. I’m stuck frozen in front of Abuela’s lowered casket. I crumple to my knees, glance over to the headstone next to her, grip the grass, and begin to cry. Everything inside of me shatters.

  Her laughter, the gleam in her eyes, and
the spicy aroma of her cooking assault me. I’ll never experience them again. They are all memories now, and that’s all they will ever be. I was selfish and left home, leaving her behind.

  The tears fall harder and faster, crashing into the already damp grass. A piece of my soul has been ripped away from me and buried right alongside her. It hurts. It’s like a pain I’ve never felt before. My toes grow numb in my huddled position, and I still let it all out.

  Strong arms soon wrap around me. I don’t have to look up to know it’s Cruz. He doesn’t say a word but holds my shaking, out-of-control body. His grip soothes away the jagged edges of pain, muting it to a dull ache.

  “Your dad isn’t doing good.”

  I lift my head to see that everyone is gone, even the Escalade.

  “I told Jag to take him to the gym. He’ll be back for us.” Cruz sits down on his ass, pulling me to his chest. I let him wrap his arms around me and I fall into him.

  “Stay as long as you need. I’ll be here.”

  “Does it always hurt like this?”

  He lets out a huff. “I never lie, Layla, and God, right now I wish I could.”

  “How do you live?” I sob.

  “You get up and keep going, baby.” He moves the hair out of my face.

  We remain silent until the darkness threatens the daylight.

  “I can’t leave here.” I sit forward, my butt numb from sitting back on my feet for so long. “I can’t leave her.”

  He lets go of me and stands. I scream louder and begin to pound the ground. I notice a few more shoes surrounding me but don’t greet their owners. Using the last of my energy, I beat the earth and scream. When I collapse, Cruz scoops me up in his arms, cradling me like a newborn to his chest.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life, still wailing out my pain. I feel like a traitor, leaving her cold, dead body lying deep in the soil. I feel it, and it hurts. It hurts to breathe, think, and live.

  He climbs into the backseat of the Escalade with me, and I look up enough to see Jag and a young fighter in the front seat. Trick must be with Dad at the gym.

  “Don’t take me home.” I grab the collar of Cruz’s shirt. “Please, I can’t.”