by Elle Kennedy
Darcy blew him a kiss. “You’re a prince, Reedford.”
“You know my full name isn’t Reedford, right?”
“But it sounds so much more distinguished,” she protested.
Reed looked like he was fighting a laugh, but then his eyes went shuttered and he glanced at Gage. “I’m heading upstairs to look over those liquor orders. Later, bro.”
The moment Reed was gone, a male voice boomed out of Gage’s earpiece. “We’ve got trouble at the front door, boss,” one of the bouncers reported. “Three douche bags refusing to wait in line. They’re trying to rough Leo up.”
“On my way,” he said briskly. He clicked the earpiece and looked at Skyler. “Duty calls. See you later?”
“Yep.”
He leaned in to plant a brief kiss on her lips, then stalked off to take care of business.
…
Two hours later, Gage was taping up his hands just as Mitch strode into the locker room.
“What’s up?” he muttered without a shred of enthusiasm. He’d been expecting the visit, but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to it.
Mitch cocked his head at the two other men loitering near the locker banks. “Can we have a minute, boys?”
The fighters nodded, leaving the room without delay. Once they were alone, Mitch fixed his shrewd dark eyes on Gage. “So.”
He raised a brow. “So.”
“After tonight you’ve filled your end of our arrangement.”
“Well aware of that.” Rising from the bench, Gage tucked his shirt, pants, and boots into an empty locker behind him.
“I have a proposition for you.” Mitch leaned against the cinder-block wall, his expression thoughtful.
Gage slammed the locker door and turned to face the other man. “Not interested.”
“You haven’t even heard me out yet.” Irritation flashed in Mitch’s eyes. “At least show me the fucking courtesy of listening.”
Stifling a curse, he folded his arms over his chest. “All right. Let’s hear it.”
“There’s a tournament in eight weeks.”
Gage stayed quiet.
“It’s an elimination tourney. Prize is half a million bucks…”
He still didn’t answer.
“I want to sponsor you.”
His silence continued.
“Nicky over at Sal’s gym is willing to train you. I’ll put up the entry fee, and if you win or place, we split the cash fifty-fifty. Whadda you say?”
Gage looked Mitch in the eye and said, “No.”
The other man swore in annoyance. “Fine, I’m willing to go sixty-forty, but that’s it.”
“I don’t care about the cash. I’m not entering.” He flopped down on the bench again and planted both hands on his thighs, the look on his face brooking no argument.
“Come on, man, just think about it. It’ll only cost you two days of your time, and if you win you’ll earn a cool two hundred and fifty G’s. If you place you’ll get a hundred. Easy money, brother.”
“I already have a day job,” Gage said curtly. “I’m part owner of a very successful club. That’s where I want to be.”
“I’m sure your partners will give you time off if you—”
“You’re not hearing me. I want to be there. I have no interest in fighting anymore, which is what I told you three months ago. I only agreed to these matches because you backed me into a corner, but we’re square now.” Gage shot the other man a dark look. “You’re a man of your word, or at least that’s what you like to tell everyone. Isn’t that right?”
Mitch’s jaw tensed. “My word is gold, Gage.”
“Then prove it. I’ve carried out my end of the deal, now it’s your turn. After tonight, you leave me and Denny alone.”
A long silence fell over them. Anger, frustration, and resentment twisted O’Donnell’s face into an expression so volatile Gage almost expected to have to fight the guy. But after several more seconds ticked by, the other man backed off. “Fine. Your loss. If you want to throw away this opportunity, then go for it. But FYI—it makes you a fucking idiot.”
“Then I’m a fucking idiot.” Gage flashed a humorless smile. “Will you tell LeSean to grab me when it’s time for my match?”
Mitch scowled. Nodded. Then stalked out of the room.
In a flash, a colossal weight was lifted off Gage’s chest.
When LeSean came to get him thirty minutes later, Gage walked out of the locker room with an actual spring in his step. Genuinely looking forward to climbing in the cage tonight, knowing it was the last time he’d ever have to do it. And once that final bell rang, he’d get the hell outta there and head to Skyler’s house, where he’d spend the whole night in her arms.
Life was finally looking up again.
Chapter Eleven
“Remind me to get you in a good mood more often.” Skyler gasped as Gage rolled off her and collapsed on his back.
“Baby, I’m always in a good mood when I’m with you.”
The smile he flashed made her heart pound. He’d been doing that a lot this week. Smiling. Laughing. Saying the sweetest darn things. He was a gazillion times more relaxed since his last fight, and she was reaping the rewards of it.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” She shifted onto her side and propped up on one elbow. “Oooh, or maybe we can go downstairs, and you can show me how to prepare that yummy stir-fry you made the other night—” Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. “Hold that thought.” She leaned over to check the screen, frowned, then kept talking. “Anyway, should we—”
“Don’t anyway me,” he chided. “Who just texted?”
A sigh lodged in her throat. “My stepfather.”
“What did he want?”
“Nothing, really. He calls or texts every few weeks to say hi. Asks if I want to have lunch or dinner or whatever.”
Gage studied her face, his dark brows drawn together. “Why do you look so upset, then? You don’t like him?”
“No, it’s not that…” Hesitation tightened her chest. “It’s just…no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop viewing him as the man who broke up my parents’ marriage. And yeah, I know it takes two to cheat. It wasn’t entirely Clay’s fault—Mom was at fault, too. But every time I see him, I think of my dad, and how brokenhearted he was when Mom left, and…” Her throat closed up. “I know I’m not being fair to Clay, but I can’t help the way I feel.”
“Did he ever remarry?”
“No. And he doesn’t have any other kids.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Do you think I’m awful for ignoring him?”
“Not at all. I think you’ve gotta do what’s right for you.”
She fell quiet for a moment, resting her head against his chest and listening to the steady beating of his heart. “What about your parents? What are they like?”
“Oh, it’s the usual sob story.” He spoke in a monotone voice. “My dad was a deadbeat. Raging alcoholic, petty criminal. He got arrested for armed robbery about ten years ago. Still in prison as far as I know.”
“And your mom?”
Now that deep voice thickened with pain. “She was a good woman. Gentle, compassionate. She died of cancer when I was eleven.” He lightly tapped the tattoo on his chest. “I put her initials here when I turned sixteen. I guess I wanted a reminder that there really are some good people in this world.”
“I wondered what those stood for.” Skyler traced each letter carefully, experiencing a wave of sadness. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
“I’m sorry about yours.”
A comfortable silence settled over them. It was the one thing she’d never expected—the comfort, the pure ease of being with this man. She’d thought they had nothing in common, that their sizzling chemistry was what made it work, but she’d been so, so wrong.
Yes, they were different. She was quick to voice her feelings, while Gage internalized everything. She thought things through, and to some extent, so did he, but he was far mo
re impulsive than her. Like when they’d visited May at the museum the previous weekend—Gage had no qualms about sneaking into an off-limits area to steal a kiss. Or the night they’d gone to grab dinner and he suddenly decided to drive all the way to Portland because he had a craving for lobster, which apparently was only good if you bought it in Maine.
She’d come to appreciate his spontaneity, even look forward to it. Gage had shown her that she could go to work and study but still have fun at the same time. More than that, he made her feel strong and confident, and she loved how bold she’d become because of him.
So bold, in fact, that she didn’t even hesitate before sliding her hand over his rock-hard abs to wrap her fingers around his erection. She gave it a teasing tug, eliciting a groan from him.
“You’re a sex addict,” he grumbled.
“Ha. Like you’re complaining.”
Still stroking him, she brought her mouth to his for a kiss. His tongue dived through her parted lips and tangled with hers, his hips lifting restlessly as he thrust his cock into her hand.
God, she loved kissing him. Touching him. Watching him come apart.
She let out a disappointed moan when he intercepted her hand, firmly moving it off him. “You never let me have fun,” she complained.
“And you always put my pleasure ahead of yours,” he said roughly.
“That’s because I like pleasing you!”
“Yeah, well, I like pleasing you, too. So be quiet and enjoy.” His hand traveled south and stroked her mound, fingers lightly teasing the hood of her clit.
Skyler sighed happily. “Feels so good when you touch me.”
“Feels so good to touch you.” As he stroked her in a lazy rhythm, his gray eyes burned with what could only be described as adoration.
His middle finger rubbed little circles over her clit, slow and sweet until the pressure between her legs reached an all-time high, causing her to squirm in agitation.
His chuckle fanned over her cheek. “Getting close?”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
He moved his hand lower, one long finger sliding inside her as his thumb applied steady pressure on her clit. She cried out when an orgasm swept through her in pulsing ripples, rocking into his hand until the shock waves faded into a warm, delicious afterglow.
Afterward, she nestled against his warm, muscular body, exhaling slowly as that feeling of serenity returned. But even as he pressed a kiss on the top of her head, even as he stroked her hair and held her close, she knew he was still holding back.
Would he ever allow himself to be truly vulnerable around her? Sometimes she wondered. His father and brother had done a number on him, affected his ability to trust anyone but himself, but God, she wished he could trust her enough to fully let her in.
“Gage?”
“Yeah?”
“What are we doing here?”
She felt his chest tense. “What do you mean?”
“You said you don’t do relationships, but…well, we’ve been seeing each other for more than a month.” She hesitated, then forced herself to be honest. “This is more than sex to me.”
“I know.” His voice was husky.
“Are we together? Like, officially together?”
She held her breath as she waited for his answer. As badly as she wanted to hear him say yes, she had to wonder if maybe she was forcing things. Fighting for a relationship that was bound to go nowhere. Gage wasn’t one of those safe, dependable guys she usually dated, and she couldn’t help but feel like she might be in for some major heartbreak.
And yet when he gave a response, she couldn’t stop the burst of happiness that went off inside her.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, we’re together.”
Her heart did a little somersault. “Good. I like that.”
His fingers stroked her hair with infinite tenderness. “Me, too.”
Chapter Twelve
As another busy Friday night came to a close, Gage dragged himself up to his office, dead on his feet. He’d broken up five fights tonight, tossed four troublemakers out on their asses, called cabs for half a dozen drunk patrons, and to top it all off, stumbled on a trio of high punks who claimed to have bought the drugs from Sin. Gage and his men still hadn’t found the person selling E in the club. Whoever it was had slowed down for a while, but evidently he was back in business.
Exhausted, Gage quickly signed off on his bouncers’ shift logs, then wandered down the hall toward Reed’s office, wishing like hell he was seeing Skyler tonight. She’d wanted him to come by after work, but he’d insisted that she deserved to go to bed at a reasonable time for a change. They were able to spend time together during the day and on weeknights when the club closed at eleven, but he didn’t leave Sin before 3:00 a.m. on the weekends, and he felt bad making her wait up for him.
He knew he’d feel even worse come September—Skyler would be busier then, starting her practicum and seeing patients under the supervision of a licensed psychologist. He’d already vowed not to let his crazy hours affect her ability to work, even if it meant not seeing her as often.
Gage popped his head in the doorway and found Reed at his desk. Still an odd sight, even though he’d had two years to get used to it. Reed was a man of action, so office work seemed completely unsuited for the guy. He tended bar on occasion, but AJ was the one who worked the bar on a nightly basis, while Reed took care of the business end of things.
“I’m heading out,” Gage told his partner. “Everything good here?”
Reed glanced up from a mountain of paperwork. “I’m good. Just double-checking these numbers, and then Jerry and I are going to look through some of the old security tapes. We’re hoping we might catch our pesky E pusher on tape.”
“Let me know if you find anything.”
“Will do. ’Night, bro.”
“’Night.”
Gage left the club through the staff door, rummaging in his pocket as he walked. He wasn’t using his e-cig nearly as often anymore, but the craving for nicotine still called to him. He’d been smoking since he was fifteen—worst frickin’ mistake of his life—and he was longing for the day when that edgy I-need-a-smoke feeling finally left him for good.
He’d just pulled out the e-cigarette when he heard the footsteps.
Gage’s spine went ramrod straight as the shadowy group slunk into the alley. He narrowed his eyes. Eight or so men, and he recognized the ones in front.
Paddy McDougal and Monte O’Brien, two of Mitch’s henchman.
“Paddy.” Gage spoke in a calm tone. “Monte. What can I do for you guys?”
The wall of thugs formed a menacing semicircle before him. No visible weapons on any of them, which wasn’t surprising. Most of the Irish boys in Southie didn’t need guns or knives—their fists were destructive enough.
Drawing an even breath, Gage did a quick assessment of the situation. He was outnumbered eight to one. If they made a move, he could take out at least half of them, maaaaaybe all if he got lucky. But he sincerely doubted they’d allow that. He knew the way these boys fought—hell, he’d sparred with Paddy hundreds of times growing up. O’Donnell’s men would fight as a group, one lethal force working together with one goal in mind.
“Mitch has a message for you.” Paddy’s Irish brogue was soft and deadly. And total bullshit, because Gage knew for a fact that the guy’s parents didn’t have accents—they’d both been born in Boston, for chrissake.
“Yeah? What’s he got to say?” Gage readjusted his stance. He pressed his hands to his sides, letting the cigarette drop into his pocket.
“He wants you to reconsider your thoughts about the tourney.”
“I see.” He cocked his head. “’Fraid I can’t do that. Mitch knows where I stand.”
“That’s what he figured you’d say.” Paddy took an intimidating step forward. Cracked his knuckles, then smiled. “That’s where the second part of the message comes in. Mitch is hoping that a couple visits like this might help you chang
e your mind.”
Monte, who’d walked to school with Gage every day when they were kids, offered a repentant look. “Nothing personal, man.”
Gage exhaled in resignation. “All right. Let’s get to it then.”
They attacked without warning, Paddy’s fist coming at him like a rattlesnake striking its prey. Gage blocked the punch with one hand and clipped Paddy in the jaw with the other. The man’s head snapped back, anger clouding his eyes, but Gage was too busy fending off Monte, who’d closed in on him. He got two jabs in, then a well-placed kick in his old friend’s crotch. Monte yelped in fury before retaliating, one meaty fist crashing into Gage’s left eye.
After that, he was fighting a losing battle. Someone yanked his arms behind his back, locked an iron-strong leg around his knees to keep him in place. Pain streaked through him when he felt another sharp pull on his arm.
Son of a bitch had wrenched his shoulder right out of the socket.
Fucking hell, that hurt.
No words echoed in the alley. Just a cacophony of muffled sounds. Thuds, grunts, the sharp smacks of fists against flesh. Gage blocked out the pain, same way he’d blocked it out when he was a kid and his dad was pounding on him. He wasn’t sure how long the beating lasted, but eventually he became aware of other noises. Footsteps. Shouts. Suddenly he was sagging forward, falling to his knees as his head swam and his pulse shrieked in his ears.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Reed’s voice. Coming from far, far away.
Gage blinked, trying to pinpoint where Reed was, but one eye was swollen shut and the other made out nothing but blurry shapes. He tasted copper in his mouth, felt moisture dripping down his chin, but he was too dazed to spit the blood out or wipe it away.
“Gage. Gage. You okay, man?” Reed again, concern ringing from his voice.
He cranked open his good eye, relief flooding his body when his friend’s face came into focus. “F-fine,” he croaked out. “I’m fine.”
“…ambulance,” he heard someone say. It sounded like Jerry.
“No.” Gage wheezed, struggling to catch his breath. “No hospitals.” He tried to get up, but his ribs ached like a motherfucker, shooting jolts of pain through his chest. A few were most likely broken. And yup, his shoulder was definitely dislocated, dangling uselessly as he managed to get on his feet.