Diablo's Throne MMA Books 1-3

by HJ Bellus

  “That’s why you stuck up for me on the first day.”

  It sounds like a question, but the way she delivers it, it’s a statement. I plunge my hand back down into the water. This time I catch her hand and lace our fingers. I stare at her profile until she gives me her rich emerald eyes.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I put those motherfuckers in their place because they were dicks and deserved to be put in their place. I would’ve done the same if I weighed one hundred twenty pounds.”

  “Oh.” She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth for a beat. “I—uh. Thank you.”

  Fuck, why did I put my hands in this damn water? I want nothing more than to cup her cheek and take her mouth with mine.

  “No need, Mack. I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t stand up for what’s right.” I lean down, and when she doesn’t flinch, I keep going until my lips press against the warm skin of her forehead. I close my eyes, memorizing the feel of Mack on my lips.

  As I pull back, I stare into her eyes for a moment and then lick my lips before facing forward and washing dishes. I have to glance away so I don’t attack her. I also don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable if that innocent kiss impacted her as much as it did me.

  “Thought you might’ve figured out I was a fighter after they shouted out my ring name.” I keep my hands busy scrubbing pot after pot.

  “I’m kind of clueless of my surroundings, if you haven’t figured that,” Mack mumbles.

  “Oh, trust me, I noticed. How could I not when a beautiful girl falls right into my lap? Hell, that was sweeter than any Christmas morning present I’ve ever received.”

  A syrupy, light giggle escapes from Mack’s lips. We spend the rest of our time chatting about our project. I’ve done my best to warn Mack about everyone at the gym before we have to visit there in a few weeks. She soaks in everything I tell her. I find myself telling her about my mom and hometown and even the ranch. Mack only listens, unlike when we were talking about schoolwork.

  “All done.” Mack dries her hands on a fresh towel then hands it to me.

  I take it and dry mine off as well. Gene had long ago come and hugged Mack, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. It settled something inside of me to know she has someone. It doesn’t matter if Gene is blood-related or not. I know better than anyone else that family isn’t always blood. In fact, the ones who aren’t are special as hell and ones you never let go of.

  I debate asking Mack for a ride home. After tonight, I don’t want to ruin anything. Something inside me tells me Mack would have a panic attack with me sitting in the cab of a car with her.

  She pushes open the door of the center after letting the manager know she was leaving. There’s a handful of cars left in the parking lot lit up by the flickering street lights. Not the safest place I’d like to imagine Mack walking into.

  “Let me guess.” I rub my chin and then point. “That light blue Toyota Camry is your ride.”

  She shakes her head.

  “Wait. Don’t tell me.” I point again. “The red Pontiac.”

  She shakes her head again, ducking her face downward.

  “Wait. Wait.”

  “Trick.” Her barely there voice catches my attention.

  “Yeah.” I turn to her, forcing myself to tuck my hands in my pockets because all I want to do is tilt her chin and force her to look up at me.

  I kick at the asphalt with the tip of my shoe. “How do you get around then?”

  Mack answers by taking a few steps forward. I follow her, eager to hear what she has to say.

  “Like this.” She raises her arms out and twirls around. “Actually, I have a bike I ride everywhere, but it currently has two flat tires.”

  I glance over toward her and raise an eyebrow. Of course, she’s not looking back at me. “So you drive…I mean, ride a bike to school or walk?”

  She nods her head. And then stops. “I’ve been doing it all of my life. It’s the only way I know how, and it’s actually not that bad.”

  Damn, that explains her killer legs. Hell, it justifies her rocking body. “Wow, that’s pretty awesome.”

  Mack looks at me straight in the eye. “Trick, you’ll learn I’m not like anyone else you’ve ever met. It’s just something I’ve had to learn to live with.”

  Long beats of silence float between us. It’s Mack who opens her mouth to speak first.

  “That big black truck yours?” I grin.

  “Good guess. I do have a truck, and it’s black. But my ride left hours ago when my friends left.”

  She tilts her head to the side, intrigued by my answer. “So how are you getting home?”

  I shrug, tilt my head to the side to match her stance, and possibly blush. Yes, fucking blush like a horny teenager. “You busted me.”

  I throw my arms up in a surrendering gesture. “I wanted to spend more time with you tonight and didn’t think out my plan too well.”

  Mack smiles. It’s not any ordinary smile. It’s one that will forever be imprinted in my memory. Her cheeks light up as her white teeth dazzle under the streetlight. Her smile is evident in her eyes as they twinkle in rhythm.

  “Well, I don’t know what to say here, Trick. But all I do know is that I did enjoy spending time with you tonight.”

  “Good answer, Mack. You would’ve really killed my flirting game without that compliment. Mind if I walk you home?”

  I have to go all in or leave this girl alone. I know asking to walk home with her may scare her back into her shell. I no longer want to be walking on eggshells around her. A desire and drive inside of me begs and pleads to pull her out of her safe place, because something inside me tells me once Mack leaves her shield of safety behind, she’ll blow everyone away. I’ve known this for a while now. But now at this moment, I want to be the man to pull her out of it.

  “Yeah, sure.” She shrugs. “I’m going to warn you it’s about a mile and a half and most of it is uphill.”

  I flex my arm and notice her vision go right to the action. “I think I can handle a little walk with a beautiful gal.”

  Mack doesn’t acknowledge the compliment, continuing to walk. For the first half of a mile, we remain silent until it drives me insane.

  “How long has your bike had a flat tire?”

  Mack smacks her lips together before answering. “I think it’s going on about two weeks. I just need to walk it down to the tire shop, and I know they will fix it for me. I just haven’t had time.”

  I ball my hands into fists and relax. Repeating the process over and over, thinking about Mack on the dark streets of the city all by herself.

  “Do you ever get a ride from anybody?”

  “No. Gene tries to make me leave the center early, so I have a ride. But I love to stay and help as much as I can.”

  “Mack, you have a beautiful soul. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you that or if you’ll even believe me. But I’ve never met a person with such a genuine, caring, and compassionate soul like you have.”

  This compliment once again pushes us into silence. She wasn’t shitting about the walk being uphill. It’s nothing dramatic, but just enough to make my muscles scream.

  “You don’t have to walk me all the way.”

  I glance over and quirk up an eyebrow. “Don’t want me to know where you live?”

  She nods her head. And I throw back my head in laughter. “Do you think I’ll become a level one stalker?

  “No, it’s just that…” She fiddles with her fingers in a manic motion. “…I don’t know how to explain it.”

  I stop and grab her hands in my large palm. I roll them over, freeing the stress from them. “It’s giving you anxiety. I can see it in your features and your actions. Your gorgeous eyes tell the whole story. It’s as if the weight of the world has now been placed on your shoulders. I don’t have to walk any further, Mack. Please let me get within a block vicinity so that I know you get home safe.”

  To my shock, Mack takes a step closer to me and peers up at
me with her eyes pleading for me to understand. “I’ve never met someone that can so easily read me like you do. You force me to be honest and face life. Everyone else just ignores me. I’m still trying to figure out how that makes me feel.”

  “You little rebel you.” A grin kicks up at the corner of my mouth. “Cracking out of that shell of yours, Mack-A-Bee. That was hot as hell.”

  She slaps my chest and takes a step back. “You just did it again. You’re confusing the hell out of me.”

  I take a step back toward her, closing the distance once again. Our body heat intertwines, and it takes all my self-control not to pull her to my chest. She’d fit perfectly against me. The top of her head would barely meet my chin. It’s as if our bodies were made for each other.

  “But do you like it? Because that’s all that matters.”

  She doesn’t answer. No shock there. Mack’s silent answer comes in the form of walking again. Our knuckles brush against each other every once in a while with the swing of our hands. The fifth or sixth time it happens, I snag her pinky. When she doesn’t react, I go further and lace our fingers together. As we cross an intersection, Mack shocks me with a question all on her own without any prompting.

  “So are you like a real cowboy?” I look down at her, examining her features as she waits for my answer. I love that she was gazing up at me and not down at her feet. Her brows scrunch up, waiting for my response.

  “Why? Do you have a thing for cowboys?” I wink at her.

  “No. It’s just that I’ve never met anyone that has lived on a farm like you were telling me back in the kitchen. So are you like a real-life cowboy?”

  I shrug, picking up on Mack’s nervous habit. “If shoveling cow shit, driving a tractor, and even riding a horse on a family branding consists of being a cowboy, then yeah, I guess I am. Or at least I was once upon a time. It’s complicated. Long story short, I’m an only child, my dad got pissed when I didn’t want to take over the farm, my mom shoved me out the door to my dream. Now here I am, a one-time world champion MMA fighter and college student.”

  “Wow, that’s impressive.”

  Her compliment tightens my chest. The sadness and desperation in the tone of her voice pain me. This woman is so sheltered I can’t even begin to comprehend it. I reply so she doesn’t pick up on any sympathy I have for her.

  “Well, if I ever go back home, you can come with me, and I’ll even let you ride Rooster, my favorite horse.”

  Mack lets out a loud sigh. “I’m sure the chances of that happening…well, there’s no chance of it. It would be an amazing trip with you. I guess a girl can dream.”

  I squeeze her hand in mine. “I’d love to take you to the place I grew up.”

  Before either of us realize it, we are standing in front of a colonial two-story house. It’s pristine with crisp, fresh white paint, a manicured lawn, and a picket fence that frames its beauty.

  “This is me. Guess you get to stalk away,” Mack says, pulling me out of my trance.

  Unlike the senior center parking lot, this neighborhood is well lit. This reassures me.

  “Damn, Mack-A-Bee, nice digs.”

  “This is Gene’s house.” She nibbles on her bottom lip.

  I’ve kept my hands to myself long enough. A man only has so much self-constraint. I soothe the pad of my finger over her bottom lip until I coax it out from her teeth. I soothe away the worry, waiting for her to go on.

  “I live there.” She points to the garage. “There’s a nice apartment above it.”

  “I like it.” I kiss her forehead like earlier and force myself to step back. “Thank you for what you gave me tonight, Mack-A-Bee.”

  Mack forces a shy smile and then ducks her head.

  “No.” I use my finger to raise her chin. “No more of that crap.”

  “I’ll try,” she whispers then races to her apartment.

  I wait until I hear a door shut and see lights flicker alive in the windows. As I turn to walk away, I spot her yellow bike. It has more rust on it than paint and, sure enough, has two flat tires. I’ve walked a mile and a half in the wrong direction, but Jesus it was worth it. I’d do it a hundred times over.

  I don’t think long before acting on instinct and taking a step forward. It may be a mistake, but I can’t help it. I’m craving the woman. My appetite flares up to a boiling point.

  Chapter 8

  Mack

  This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I’m chalking it up to the lingering high of Trick walking me home. He missed class on Thursday, which means I haven’t seen him since the night he walked me home. I’ve checked our Google document more times than I’ll ever admit.

  My heart plummeted every time I didn’t see his lime green icon in the upper right-hand corner. He had put some work in on our project, but our times never synced up. And now here I am leaning my bike up against the brick wall in front of the Diablo’s Throne Gym.

  “I can’t do this.” I grip the rusty handlebars of my bike and get ready to hitch my leg over the seat.

  “Maria, Monica, Maisy.” A tall man stands in front of me, running his hands through his hair. He’s shirtless with all his tanned flesh and very toned muscles on full display. “Shit, man, I don’t remember your name.”

  My eyes widen. I remain silent. Nervous, unfettered anxiety rises from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair, leaving behind a tingling and nauseating sensation.

  “Trick’s gonna lose his mind.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Play along, Melissa. This is going to be fucking epic.”

  He shakes my shoulders. “Loosen up, babycakes. Here, put your hand right here.”

  The man grabs my right hand, splaying it across his abs. He’s intimidating yet safe at the same time. It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before. The mention of Trick’s name soothes a bit of the torment whirling around in me. I focus on my breathing in fear of passing out. It’s the last thing I want to happen right now. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I focus on those simple words over and over as the stranger walks me to the front door. He’s technically not a stranger. He was with Trick the other night at the center. The one who fell out of the supply closet.

  My vision blurs in the corners of my eyes as he swings open the door. I’m assaulted with the shrilling bell and chaotic sound of the gym. Grunts, groans, and smacking noises swirl around me, multiplying my impending attack.

  “Hey, Country Pussy!” the man shouts.

  A shirtless fighter with black spandex shorts on freezes. I know it’s Trick by his back. He turns around until he’s facing us. His eyes grow wide then his jaw sets in a firm line.

  “Found me a new side chick, Trickster.” He sings out each word.

  Trick’s long, muscle-defined legs eat up the distance between us. Before I know what’s happening, Trick shoves the man back with great force. I’m dragged back with him since he’s still holding my shoulders.

  A firm grasp clutches my arm, keeping me upright. I’m pulled into Trick’s bare chest. My palms slap against his skin as a squeak escapes.

  “Too fucking far, Jag,” he grits out each word.

  “It was just simple fun,” Jag retorts.

  My knees go weak and without warning give out. I’m scooped up in Trick’s arms. The ceiling blurs by, making my dizziness worse. I snap my eyes shut as Trick walks. I have no idea where he’s going. The noise dulls, and then a door slams shut.

  “Baby, are you okay?”

  Full, sweet lips press into my forehead. Trick doesn’t move them. As each second ticks by, the drumming of my heart settles down. I reach up and cup his cheek until I’m able to croak out a word.

  “Ye—Yes.”

  “I’m going to lay his cocky ass out, I swear.” Trick settles down on a bench.

  I find the courage to open my eyes and try to shuffle out of his arms. He doesn’t have anything to do with it. Somehow, I end up straddling his thick thighs with his face in full view.

  I gasp. Slam my palm over my mou
th as tears well up in my eyes. All evidence of a looming panic attack vanishes at the sight of Trick’s face.

  “Your face,” I squeak out.

  He smirks. God, it’s sexy even through the cuts and bruises. The right side of his mouth curls up in his signature smirk.

  “I won, baby. It’s all good.” He tightens his arms around me, pulling me closer.

  I move without thinking and bring my finger up to the longest cut along the length of his cheek. I’m delicate, not wanting to inflict any pain on him.

  “Don’t be sad.” Trick leans in and kisses my forehead. God, it undoes me every single time he does it. “A hazard of the job.”

  “You love it, don’t you?” I ask, dropping my forehead to his.

  “It’s what I live for.”

  We’re silent for a long time. Trick’s the first one to speak.

  “Love seeing you here, Mack-A-Bee, don’t get me wrong. I’m shocked to see you here.”

  I lick my lips and flinch when I realize how close it came to grazing his skin. I swallow down a dry, thick lump lodged in my throat. “The self-defense class. Your friend, the woman who came to the center, invited me here.”

  “Layla.” He helps me out.

  “I thought I could do it then when I got off my bike I freaked and was going to bolt until Jag…”

  “Fucking Jag,” he mumbles.

  A light chuckle escapes me. “He called me every female name that starts with an M and still never got my name down.”

  “He’s a dick. A good-hearted one, but still a dick.”

  I lean back and clear my throat. It’s not anxiety attacking but something else. Nerves? Possibly. It’s a foreign feeling that somewhat exhilarates and terrifies me at the same time.

  “Don’t be mad at him, Trick. Honestly, it helped me. He ripped the Band-Aid right off and didn’t even blink twice. I never would’ve come in on my own no matter how badly I wanted to.”

  “You wanted to come here tonight?” he asks.

  I nod and whisper, “I missed you.”

  “Jesus,” Trick growls.

  “I feel alive with you. Not sure how well I’ll do during the class, though.”