by Aly Martinez
“Oh, I can handle Flint. Don’t you worry about that.” She pushed to her feet and smoothed her long, strawberry-blond hair down. Leaning into my face, she pointed under her eyes. “Makeup?”
“Perfect. You want some gloss?”
She smiled so wide that I thought her face might split. “Nah. It’s too hard to clean it off his zipper. There’s a strong possibility I may need to do some convincing. A little preview in the bathroom should do the job.” She exaggerated a wink.
I groaned, not needing that mental picture.
Eliza pelted her with a balled-up napkin. “Gross!”
Ash crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t even pretend like we don’t know why you came strutting out of the limo all disheveled tonight.”
Eliza slapped a hand over her mouth, and her cheeks turned bright red. “Oh, God. Was it that obvious?”
Ash high-fived me as we both burst into laughter.
“Not at all. I actually just took a guess. He sprang for the limo. I figured he wanted a little more than just the extra leg room.” She winked again then took off on her task to “convince” Flint to leave the kids with their aunt and uncle for the evening.
“Ten bucks she goes for the wallet first,” I bet Eliza, sliding down to fill Ash’s vacant seat.
“No. You watch. She’ll bat her eyelashes, kiss him, and then slide a hand down the back of his pants. Then!” She lifted a single finger in the air. “After he at least agrees to meet her in the bathroom, she’ll swipe his wallet. Only it won’t be in his back pocket. Flint replaced it with the key to the hotel room he booked for them tonight.”
“Seriously?!” I squealed, glancing back at Ash as she prowled away.
Eliza nodded, equally as excited.
“Oh my God! She’s going to flip. We should say a prayer for the poor souls who get the room next to them tonight.” I nabbed two more champagne flutes from a waiter’s tray.
We watched as Ash made her move.
Eliza was right. She went for the wallet last.
I was right too though. She. Flipped.
“Ew. Ew. Ew,” we said in unison as Ash practically mounted Flint.
“I should probably rescue my husband.” She pointed to Till, who was one blink away from dozing off in mid-conversation with a group of gray-haired men.
“You do that and I’m going to find Q. Want to meet at the back bar for a drink in ten minutes? Shots?” I waggled my eyebrows.
Eliza wasn’t much of a drinker, but after almost a year of hard work, she always made an exception at the gala.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll make Till get up with the kids in the morning.” She laughed. “Want to come over and nurse our hangovers together?”
“You supply the coffee and Netflix. I’ll bring the greasy fast food.”
“Deal.”
We split in different directions.
I made my way to the back of the room where I’d last seen Q at least an hour earlier when he’d been cornered by a group of guests.
When I didn’t see him there, I headed toward the exit, thinking he might have snuck into the alley for a breather—a.k.a. hiding so he didn’t have to be social. However, as I rounded the corner, I froze when I saw none other than “Golden” Garrett Davenport strutting past the security guard at the back door.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
SHOOT ME.
No, seriously.
Shoot me.
I was in a suit.
Chatting with old men who wanted to tell me all about their glory days in junior league boxing. They were dropping names like I should know who the fuck amateur “Tornado” Timmy Turner was four decades before I was born.
Plus, I was stuck chugging nasty-ass champagne off the waiters’ trays. Ducking to the bar for a beer would have taken valuable time away from the riveting stories of the youth in the Dark Ages.
And the cherry on top of this shit-sundae was that I hadn’t seen Liv in ten hours. Okay, maybe it was only, like, one hour. But she was wearing that little black dress that left virtually nothing to the imagination, so even ten hours felt like an understatement.
She looked every bit as sexy as I had feared.
Her long, sculpted legs taunted me with every step. Urging me to drop to my knees and bury my face between them.
Those tall, black heels whispered promises to score my back with every click.
That silky, brown hair begged to be wrapped around my fist as I fucked her from behind.
Her bold, red lipstick pleaded to stain the root of my cock.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This is Liv! What the hell is wrong with me?
Never going to happen, buddy.
However, for a brief minute on the red carpet as I caught her eye-fucking my ass, I had hoped that it might.
It was ridiculous though.
Nothing good would ever come of me fucking Liv James.
She was my best friend. Slipping my dick into her was not an option. My fingers though…
Shit!
I loved her—like family. Unfortunately, my body had gotten a few wires crossed and now thought I should love her in that hey-let-me-make-you-come-until-you-forget-the-English-language kind of way.
I desperately needed to find a way to unscramble those thoughts so I could get over this bullshit and get back to where we should be.
Just friends.
Best friends.
Maybe friends who get off together?
Damn it!
With that, I decided it was time to throw etiquette out the window and make my escape.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to check on my date.”
Then check myself into a sexual rehabilitation facility.
Several handshakes later, I was free. While scanning the large ballroom for Liv, I caught sight of Eliza dragging Till out of another circle of loaded fogies.
No sign of Liv.
A sudden pain in my ear made me wince. God, I wanted to go home. My new hearing aids had been calibrated for the noisy environment of the fundraiser, but they were uncomfortable as fuck. I headed to the bathroom to check them out or, hell, maybe save myself from being caught in another Circle of Bengay and take them off altogether.
Ignoring a different group of guests trying to catch my attention, I hurried toward the bathroom.
All thoughts of my discomfort disappeared when I heard the sharp cry of Liv’s voice. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but only the tone of her voice soured my gut. I sprinted in her direction, not slowing until her long, brown hair came into view.
Then my vision turned red as it zeroed in on a man holding her around the waist as she kicked and screamed in his arms.
“Get him out of here!” Liv shouted. “You don’t get to do this! Not again!”
A small crowd blocked my view of who she was screaming at. Liv was definitely spunky—and slightly crazy. But she wasn’t hot-tempered. If she was mad about something, chances were I was going to be livid.
“Hey!” I shouted, jogging over to the man restraining her. “Get your fucking hands off her.” I possessively claimed her from his arms and then breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed the Guardian Protection Agency pin on his lapel.
That’s when the proverbial record stopped.
Liv froze.
Dozens of eyes swung my way.
The crowd parted.
And Garrett fucking Davenport stepped in my direction.
Son.
Of.
A.
Motherfucking.
Whore.
“Quarry ‘The Stone Fist’ Page, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced with a slow clap that grated down my spine.
As much as my fist ached to greet his face, I didn’t respond. Not this time.
“Can someone go get Till? Or Slate? Or Flint? Or hell…anyone else? Please,” Liv begged as she stepped in front of me. “Walk away, Q. He’s only here to get a rise and you know it. Do not give that to him. Lock it down.”
&nbs
p; I gritted my teeth but remained silent—my eyes trained on the coward in the fitted, black tux looking every bit as pompous and arrogant as I knew him to be.
“I heard there was a fundraiser going on to benefit youth boxing.” Davenport puffed his chest and then grinned. “Coincidence. I have funds and love boxing. What are the odds?” He laughed.
“We don’t want your fucking money,” Liv spat without ever turning to face him. “Walk away, Q.”
My jaw clenched as my hands flexed opened and closed at my sides. His appearance had absolutely nothing to do with the fundraiser and everything to do with the fact that the boxing commissioner had emailed over the contracts on his next title fight. I hadn’t shared with Liv yet, but I’d found out that morning that my name was finally back on the bottom line. His reign in the ring had been over the minute those contracts had landed on his agent’s desk. I knew it. And it gave me great pleasure that he knew it too. This whole confrontation was nothing more than attempt to get in my head. Little did he know that my head had been fucked years earlier. He was only adding fuel to my fire.
That title belonged to me.
I wouldn’t let him take this opportunity from me. Not again.
“Are you here to beg me to take it easy on you?” I asked stoically.
He barked a humorless laugh.
Liv squeezed my bicep. “Let’s go home.”
I ignored her and continued talking to Davenport. “No? Then what? You need my belt size? Routing number for my bank account?”
He took a threatening step forward, but I held my ground.
Liv blew out a loud breath of relief when Slate’s meaty paw landed on my shoulder.
“That’s enough,” Slate said. “Not here, Garrett. This is neither the time nor the place for you to stir up something. You want to make a donation? Mail it to the gym. The kids would be appreciative of your generosity. Besides that, you have no business here.”
Fucking Slate. All PC and shit.
“With all due respect, Slate.” He paused and smiled condescendingly. “Fuck. You.”
“You’re not really my type, son,” Slate replied with a chuckle, but his hand clenched painfully tight on my shoulder—his fist no doubt aching as well.
Flint’s voice came from somewhere behind me. “Get Leo’s ass over here. This is over, Garrett. Either you leave now or security will be escorting you out.”
Till stepped to my side. Bumping his shoulder with mine, he gritted out, “Do not react. Hold on to this moment for when you have him in the ring. You have your shot. Do not blow it by giving in to this prick.”
Shit, he was right.
“What’s wrong, Page? Nothing to say?” Davenport goaded. “You just gonna stand there and let your washed-up trainer and has-been brother take care of your shit?”
I sucked in a deep breath.
Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe.
Adrenaline surged in my veins, but it found no way out as I forced it down.
Liv wasn’t as successful.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she erupted.
I hooked a fast arm around her waist and yanked her back to my chest. She continued hurling insults.
Davenport laughed loudly. With an evil smirk, he lifted his eyes to mine.
Three words.
Three fucking words secured his fate.
I’d already wanted his belt.
But, with three fucking works, I wanted his blood.
“Control your bitch.”
The room exploded. Slate, Till, and even Flint jumped to restrain me.
I didn’t move.
Liv was a button of mine he’d never pushed before. It was the only one left that could send me nuclear. Clearly, everyone around us knew that, but I wouldn’t give him that knowledge.
That was mine. The last thing I needed was him launching a full-out attack on her just to set me off-kilter.
Every muscle in my body strained, but I didn’t budge.
Not forward to kill him.
And definitely not backward in retreat.
I was rooted in place.
Eyes locked.
Plotting his murder.
Electricity charged the air.
I. Did. Not. Move.
I refused to give him what he’d so cowardly come for.
My breath escaped on a loud roar of laughter that stunned everyone, including the senior citizens club that had congregated around us.
Davenport’s eyes narrowed in confusion, but my laughter only grew louder.
I repeated his words, shaking my head in humor. “Control your bitch.”
“Uhh…” Liv said as I finally dragged my eyes away from Davenport.
Smiling, I said, “He’s right, you know.”
Her mouth got tight.
“Let him stay. I’m out of here.” Chuckling to myself, I repeated under my breath, “Control your bitch.”
Three words had never been truer.
As my body relaxed, Slate and Till cautiously released me.
“Show’s over!” Leo announced and then started barking orders to at least five of his men, who went to work clearing the disappointed crowd. “Time to leave,” Leo ordered, pressing a heavy hand into Davenport’s chest. “And, next time you call someone a bitch, the Page brothers are going to be the least of your worries. Got it?” He shoved hard, causing Davenport to stumble back a step, his gaze still locked on me.
“That’s it, Page? You just gonna walk away? I should have known you’d be a fucking pussy!” he prodded.
I laughed again as I draped my arm around Liv’s waist. “You ready to go?”
“What the hell was that?” she asked, regarding me warily.
My expression turned hard as I looked down at her. “You stay out of shit like that from now on,” I scolded her loudly. “I don’t need you making things worse.”
Her mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’m serious. That shit happens again, you stay the fuck out of it. Do not step between me and another man. Ever.”
“You were about to lose it!” she snarled—even that was sexy.
I leaned into her face and lowered my voice. “I cannot worry about you jumping in on something and possibly getting caught in the middle. Now, keep your mouth closed. And back away.”
Her eyes flickered with understanding. “Quarry,” she warned, but she did it taking two giant steps away.
“Good girl,” I whispered, knowing I’d pay for it later.
Spinning on a foot, I charged forward ready to give Davenport exactly what I wanted him to take from our little pow-wow.
Till and Slate were off to the side, chatting with Flint. Leo was still struggling to get Davenport out the back door.
“Yo, Leo!” I called as all the eyes in the room lifted to mine.
It was too late.
My adrenaline finally found a way out.
With a hard right Leo barely dodged, my fist landed on Garrett Davenport’s chin, snapping his head to the side and sending him stumbling to the ground.
I dove for another punch, but Till caught my arms before I made contact.
“Only bitch that needs controlling is you!” I roared.
He jumped to his feet and lunged in my direction as security scrambled between us.
“Grow a sack and sign the fucking contracts! You want me? Make it happen.” I pounded my chest as he fought the herd of men dividing us.
He’d come wanting to fight. He’d left with yet another sample.
The rest would be delivered in the ring.
My body slacked in Till’s grasp.
I calmly watched as Leo’s men dragged him, kicking and swinging, out of the back door.
“Jesus Christ,” Slate growled, raking a frustrated hand through his hair.
“Dumb fuck,” I mumbled as the door slammed shut.
Till let me go, but not before slapping me hard on the back of the head. “Him? What is wrong with you? This shit is gonna
be all over the news tomorrow.”
I shook my hand out, inspecting it to make sure I hadn’t injured anything. “Maybe. But I bet Flint receives those signed contracts first thing in the morning.”
Cutting my eyes across the room, I found Liv standing right where I’d left her. Her expression was unreadable, but her stiff posture looked positively pissed. Great. A lecture about keeping my shit together was on the horizon.
“I think it’s best for everyone if I take off. Text me if a shitstorm starts to brew over this.”
Till’s eyes swung to Liv. “Christ. You’re in trouble.”
I chuckled. “Yep.”
“Well, at least she can’t withhold sex.” He cupped me on the shoulder then shoved me in her direction. “Give him hell!” he yelled to her, but her hard stare never left mine.
Shit.
When I reached her, I shoved my hands in my pockets and rocked onto my toes. “You know this is all because you made me wear the suit.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“My body was being suffocated. Eventually, it cut off the blood flow to my brain.” I shrugged, and her nostrils flared. “I can’t be held responsible for any of that. If anything, I deserve an apology from you.” I quirked a teasing smile.
When she didn’t reply, I sighed.
“Can you at least bitch at me in the car?”
Liv fumed while we waited just inside the building for our driver to pull around our car.
Whatever. She’d get over it. I was freaking stoked.
The title match was on.
Assuming Davenport had a sack at all, which was seriously in question, he’d be signing the contracts in the morning. The announcement to the press would quickly follow, and then I’d have had the legal right and obligation to beat the fucking shit out of him.
Flexing my hand out, I basked in the sweet ache of my knuckles.
“You could have broken it again,” Liv said without looking at me.
“I didn’t.”
“You would have been out for months. No fights. And whatever hopes we had of getting another title shot would be gone. Do you have any idea of how bad that could have been in there?”
My lips tipped up in a smirk. “We? You getting a title shot too?”
“Yes. We. What part of this have you missed over the last fourteen years? I’m in this with you. Every match. Every opponent. I’m there. Just because I’m not in the ring doesn’t mean your choices don’t affect me.”