Tapout

by J.C. Valentine

  “What do you say?” Jami asked against her mouth.

  Breathless, Alyson closed her eyes and tightened her fingers in his hair. “I don’t know. Spending every minute of the day with each other. Being that close to Don. It could get ugly.”

  “Oh, it could get very ugly,” Jami whispered, nuzzling the side of her face. “In fact, I’m sure it will, but we’re stronger than that, aren’t we, babe? If something comes up, we’ll talk about it, and if we can’t talk about it,” he said, drawing his head back so he could look at her as his lips twitched in amusement, “I’m sure we can find more interesting, sweaty ways to work out our differences.”

  “And Don?”

  “Can suck it up. You’re mine, and that’s not going to change, no matter how many fits he throws. He’ll just have to get used to you being around.”

  Alyson sighed, but refrained from arguing. She recognized how big a step this was for Jami, and to be honest, she would like nothing more than to work at the gym. It would give her plenty of opportunities to interact with him during the day, and who knew? Maybe it would even help solidify their relationship.

  Or it would be what ended it once and for all.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Ally was a fantasy come to life. Jami couldn’t decide whether he liked her better in her spandex workout gear, or the company uniform. The Knockout logo printed over her left breast certainly did its job drawing his eyes, but it didn’t only affect him. Every male in the place had eyeballed her rack, which had Jami seeing red.

  She belonged to him.

  It took all his self-control to keep from marching up and plucking their eyes from their sockets. He’d watched enough Kill Bill to have a good idea on how to do it. It was all about speed and accuracy, and he had that in spades.

  The smile on her face as Ally greeted members cooled his temper to a low simmer, allowing Jami to focus. After spending all night making love, he’d brought Ally to the gym and showed her around, explaining how to fill out memberships and other orders of operation that she would eventually be responsible for handling. Because it would interfere with his training, he’d paired her up with Becca, an older woman who’d worked for the previous owner. He loved her dedication and was confident in her ability to guide Alyson through her daily responsibilities.

  Right now, Becca was walking Ally through a membership deal, helping her log an application into the computer. The intense look of concentration, and the way Ally’s pink lips pursed made Jami’s pants grow tight.

  God, he wanted her.

  Asking her to work for him, where he could look up and see her anytime he wanted, was the best idea he ever had.

  “…knew this was a bad idea.”

  Jami turned his attention back to Don and narrowed his eyes. “What was that?”

  Capturing the warning in his hard tone, Don gathered the supplies they used and angrily shoved them into his bag. “Does it matter? You don’t listen to me anymore anyway.”

  Jami marched after him. Passing the front desk, Ally looked up. The look on his face must have been something, because her smile instantly morphed into concern. Jami shook his head. Later. Biting her lip, she pasted a smile on and returned to her task.

  “What was that out there?” Jami demanded. The door to the office slammed shut behind him. Don sat behind the desk, a disappointed frown marring his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Jami hissed. Gripping the back of a chair, he steadied himself for some major truth talking. “I don’t pretend to understand this hatred you seem to have for Alyson, and I think I’ve been plenty patient waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass, but this stops. Now.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you can find yourself another job.”

  The color washed out of Don’s face. “You can’t be serious. After everything we’ve been through together, you would cut me loose over her?”

  Shoving away from the chair, Jami paced the length of the room. “You don’t seem to get it, so let me spell it out for you. I’m with Ally now. We’re together, and you’re going to have to get used to that. She’s it for me.”

  “And when things get tough, when you get so broken she can’t handle it, what then? Do you really think she’s going to stick around? The girl still covers her eyes at a fight, for crying out loud!”

  He tuned out. Jami watched as his Coach, his mentor and friend, and the man who’d become a surrogate father, was reduced to a yelling, spluttering mess. He couldn’t believe it had come to this. Down to him defending his personal life. It wasn’t right, and he wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. When Don was finished ranting, Jami scrubbed a hand over his face and breathed deeply. “This isn’t working anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This, you and me, it’s not working. I can’t keep being pulled in two different directions like this. It’s screwing up my concentration and… fuck, I can’t deal with it anymore.”

  “You’re firing me?” Don was livid. His face was mottled red as he continued to stare at Jami from behind the desk.

  “No, but I am drawing a line. As of right now, we’re no longer roommates. I’ll stop by and pick up a few of my things tonight. As for work, that’s exactly what it is—work. My personal life is no longer any of your business. While under this roof, you and Ally are employees, and I expect you two to get along. If you can’t manage that, then we’ll have to figure out another arrangement.” His voice was cold, but Jami had to be in order to get through this. It was tearing him up that he had to give the old man, who’d been like a father to him, an ultimatum, but he couldn’t see any other way. He’d tried to keep both parts of his life together, but it just wasn’t working.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Don grumbled.

  “Believe it. Ever since Ally walked through the door, you’ve had some kind of… vendetta or something against her.” Their eyes met—steel against earthen brown. “She isn’t Milly, Don.”

  “I know she’s not Milly. Do you think I’m fucking blind?” Don barked, shooting to his feet.

  Ignoring his outburst, Jami pressed on. “She’s not trapping me into anything I don’t want, and she’s not leaving.”

  “Yet. She hasn’t left you, yet.”

  “Don, Milly was sick. She didn’t have a choice.”

  Gray eyes turning murky, Don spun away, giving Jami his back. “You don’t know shit. She took my life and made everything seem perfect, and then she abandoned me. She took everything and left me with nothing. Nothing!” A humorless laugh ripped from his chest. “Trust me, kid, one day you’ll realize that the only way to do this is to go it alone. What we do, what I did, is nothing short of brutal. It’s mankind at its most basic—cold, hard, and vicious. Trust me when I tell you that there is no place for love in our world.”

  Jami felt a cold knot of dread form in the center of his chest. A part of him recognized the truth in Don’s words, but he pushed it back, refusing to give it any power. He may not have had love growing up, but he knew it when he felt it. It was strong. Stronger than any amount of muscle. Stronger than even the best fighter. When all else failed, love was the glue that held the pieces together. He could feel it. Every time a crack formed inside of him, Ally held him together. Her love did that. So, Don was wrong. Love wasn’t a weakness. It didn’t fracture under pressure. Not unless it was weak to begin with.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t agree,” Jami said as he began walking toward the door.

  “Give it time,” Don muttered. “Give it time.”

  Shaking his head, Jami left the room. There was nothing he could say that would change Don’s mind. The man was trapped in his own delusional world. He was determined to see the negative side of life, and Jami didn’t want any part of it. For the first time, he was seeing the way things could be, and he wanted it. He wanted it so bad he could taste it.

  His strides quickened as he neared the ma
in floor, his thoughts centered on only one person—Ally. Images swirled through his head of scooping her into his arms, and taking her some place dark, away from prying eyes, tearing her clothes off, and sinking into her hot, sweet body. The janitor’s closet was the closest place he could think of. Nothing even close to romantic, but he’d never claimed to be big on romance. He, Ally, and a private place to grasp onto each other was what he needed. Just a few minutes of the kind of peace that only Ally could provide would make the rest of the day bearable.

  Would she accommodate him?

  Before Jami had a chance to find out the answer, he heard raised voices coming from up ahead. Rounding the corner, he spotted Spencer first. He was standing off to the side, next to the wall of weight equipment and next to a tall man, medium build, with dark hair and dressed in a dark suit. If the suit and the tie number hadn’t been a dead giveaway that he didn’t belong here, then the two goons who stood to either side of him were a pretty big tip-off.

  “Jami…” Ally’s gasp grabbed his attention.

  “What the hell is going on?” Jami asked, his temper jumping to the forefront to mask the fear bubbling up inside.

  “I don’t know. They walked in a minute ago and went straight for Spencer. Do you know who they are?”

  He didn’t, but he sure as hell was going to find out. “Stay here,” he commanded, “and if anything happens…” Their gazes connected, and she nodded.

  “Can I help you gentlemen with anything?” Jami asked, approaching the intimate group. Glimpsing the look of terror in Spencer’s eyes, Jami’s hackles rose. The looks he got from the three other men were eerily calm.

  The suit smiled confidently—too confidently for Jami’s liking—and held out his hand. “Sorry to intrude. I was just catching up with my old friend, Spencer, here. Marco Maretti and you are?”

  Every muscle in his body stiffening, Jami clasped hands with Spencer’s dealer. “Jamison and I know all of Spencer’s friends,” he said tightly. “You’re not one of them.”

  A full-belly chuckle shook Marco’s narrow shoulders. Stuffing his hands into his pants pockets, Marco presented the picture of calm. Eyes that reminded Jami of a shark—soulless and devoid of emotion—examined him. “You’re Jamison Weston—The Judge—aren’t you?”

  “That’s right,” Jami confirmed, his jaw set.

  “And you’re Spencer’s friend. He’s told me much about you, but then I’ve been following your fights. You’re good. The ring needs a little freshening up. Too many old men these days, no?”

  Jami glanced at Spencer, who looked ready to pass out. “Excuse me for being blunt,” Jami said, putting an end to the idle chit chat, “but what is this about? I assume you didn’t come here to check out the equipment?” He let his gaze skim over the expensive tailored suit.

  “It’s a nice gym,” Marco mused, casting a brief look around. “Very homey, but you would be correct. This is a business call.” He gave Jami a look that strongly urged him to leave. Jami wasn’t budging.

  “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me,” Jami informed him.

  Marco looked to Spencer, who gave a small nod of confirmation. “All right,” Marco said slowly. “I was just telling our friend here that he has exhausted his extensions.”

  “What extensions?” Jami’s gaze darted between the men, wanting answers. “Spencer, what extensions?”

  Hanging his head, Spencer refused to look at him. Jami had the worst feeling come over him. When Spencer didn’t offer any answers, Jami set his glare on Marco and repeated his question.

  “He owes me money.”

  “No, he owed you money. Past tense. He paid you off weeks ago.”

  Marco studied Jami curiously. Finally, a small smile of amusement crept across his face. “Ah, you’re talking about the restaurant. Am I wrong to assume you were a benefactor? It seems your friend has been lying to all of us.” Jami’s frown deepened, dread threatening to consume him. “Spencer paid his debt,” he said slowly, dragging it out for his own sick pleasure, “and then he took out a new loan.”

  Jami’s heart beat so hard, he could hear it in his ears. “A loan. What kind of loan?”

  “A big one. Fifty thousand… with interest.”

  Instant hatred heated Jami’s blood to boiling, and he felt his muscles coil for attack, ready to rip Spencer to pieces. After everything they’d done to help him, he did this? A lone tear fell down Spencer’s cheek, making Jami want to hit him even harder.

  “Payment is due now,” Marco added, his voice dropping to a deadly timber.

  One look at Spencer and Jami knew. Whatever money he might have had was long gone. Straightening, Jami squared his shoulders and faced Marco head on. “What if I said we don’t have the money?”

  “We?” He looked to the two men beside him, and they smirked.

  “He,” Jami corrected, tilting his head toward Spencer, “doesn’t have the money. But if you’re willing to give me an extension, I’ll make sure you get paid.”

  “You mean take on his debt?” He sounded surprised. “Tell me, Jamison,” Marco said, stepping closer—he was a tall man, enough to place them almost at eye level, “why would you place yourself in what you must know is a very, very bad situation?”

  Jami didn’t have a ready answer, so he kept his lips sealed and his eyes unwavering. Marco’s intimidating gaze held his for so long, a trickle of sweat ran down Jami’s temple.

  “You are a very noble man. I can see that. It puts me in a difficult position. You see, I don’t enjoy hurting the good guys, and I can see that you are one. But I want my money, and you say neither of you has it. That leaves me with only one other option.” Jami cocked an eyebrow, waiting. Marco’s smile twisted. “A pound of flesh, that’s my price. Are you still willing to pay, knowing what the stakes are?”

  Jami’s eyes widened though he couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. Spencer had really dug the hole deep this time. But he’d essentially claimed his debt, and Marco was impatient to collect his dues. His brain scrambled for a solution but came up dry. There was only one way out. “I’ll pay. When and where do you want to do this?”

  “I’m impressed, Mr. Weston,” Marco said with an approving nod. “You two must have quite the friendship to sacrifice yourself so willingly. Though I am betting that may be changing soon.” Fastening the middle button on his suit jacket, Marco stepped back. “Today. Six o’clock. My men will pick you up from here. And Mr. Weston?” Marco turned on his heel. “Don’t even think about disappearing.”

  Jami watched them walk away, fuming in his silence.

  “I am so unbelievably sorry, man. I—”

  The first punch Jami threw knocked Spencer off balance. The next one landed him on the floor in the fetal position. Standing over him, Jami could hardly control his rage. “Don was right about you. You’re a fucking screw up. I should have let you get your ass beat the first time instead of bailing you out, but no more.”

  “Jami,” Spencer moaned, holding his left eye.

  “Save it,” Jami snarled. “This is the last time you’ll ever get help from me, and it’s the last time you’ll ever see me. From here on, you’re dead to me. You hear me? Dead.”

  Ally was waiting for him with tears in her eyes. Taking her hand, Jami spun her around and pulled her along behind him, leaving Spencer in a moaning heap in the middle of the floor.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” Alyson had a freak-out moment. She’d just watched the scariest man she’d ever seen broker a deal with the man she loved, and even though she hadn’t heard a single word between them, she knew it wasn’t good.

  Jami hitting Spencer only made it that much clearer. She’d seen Jami angry but never like this. He’d never hurt someone close to him unless it was something really bad. Something in him had broken, and now she was locked in a dark closet with Jami’s insistent hands divesting her of her clothes.

  This was bad. Very bad.
>
  “I have to.” Cornering her, Jami pushed Alyson against the door, lifting her legs off the floor and fitting them around his waist. His lips crashed into hers, sucking and nipping with his teeth until they felt tender and swollen.

  She felt his cock pressing against her through his light cotton shorts, and as Jami lowered his mouth to suckle her neck, she lost control of her self-restraint and reached between them to rub him through the soft material.

  Jami was muttering against her fevered skin. “Jesus, you feel so good. I need you. I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

  Freed of her bottoms long ago, there was no barrier between her and Jami’s questing fingers. He plunged two inside, and a strained groan tore from his throat when he felt how wet she was. Alyson’s head fell back against the door, her moans of ecstasy melding with his. No matter the situation, she was always ready for him.

  Lining himself up, Jami paused with the tip poised at her opening. “Tell me you love me,” he whispered, his dark eyes filled with some unnamed emotion that tore at her heart.

  “I love you.”

  His fingers bit into her rear end as he slid deeply into her, moving slowly enough to create a painful, demanding ache to rise up inside of her. “Again.”

  “I love you,” she repeated, her eyes drifting closed as he slowly withdrew, allowing her to feel every hard inch of him.

  “Keep saying it,” he commanded, and then plunged back inside of her. “I need to hear you say it.”

  “I love you. I love you,” Alyson gasped and whimpered as her nails dug into his shoulders. “I love you.”

  Jami drove into her with fierce abandon that should have frightened her, but she knew he would never hurt her. His mouth covered hers again, and the way Jami licked her tongue with his was her undoing. Alyson’s legs locked around him, and her nails dug deeper as she came. Jami followed right behind her, turning her name into a prayer as he buried his face in her chest and gripped her tight.