Once his breathing was under control, he lifted his head, his eyes full of misery. “I’m sorry.” Withdrawing from her, Jami set her gently on her feet and bent to retrieve her clothes.
A puzzled laughed escape her. “Sorry, for what? Ravishing me?”
Helping her back into her clothes, Jami held a tight expression. “I’m sorry for everything. For those men, for Spencer, for being the kind of guy who doesn’t know when to walk away. For what we just did. You deserve better. You deserve to be romanced.”
Adjusting her clothing, Alyson wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted onto her toes. “We’ll work all that out. And you’re plenty romantic,” she whispered against his mouth.
Jami scowled. “I just fucked you in a storage closet.”
“It’s a very nice storage closet,” Alyson smirked, running her fingers through his hair.
“You have very low standards then.” His expression eased. “How did I ever get so lucky?”
Pressing his lips to hers once more, Alyson sighed, getting lost in his kiss. When they finally broke away, she was panting. “Tell me who those men were and what did they want? And before you even consider lying to me, remember. One, we have an agreement—no more lying. It doesn’t matter how big or small. And two, you have to sleep sometime.”
Jami’s lips twitched in amusement. “Mmm, feisty. I like it.” With a drawn out sigh, Jami rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “That man was Marco, and the other two were his thugs. They came for their money.”
Deep furrows of confusion creased Alyson’s forehead. “I don’t understand. I thought you paid him off.”
“I did,” Jami said, releasing her and pacing away. “But it seems that Spence had other plans. He took out another loan. Now we owe double, and it’s due tonight.”
“But—I—where does he expect us to get that kind of money?” she spluttered. She was going to kill Spencer!
“There’s another way,” Jami said, his voice so low she had to strain to hear it.
“What way?” she whispered, hugging herself as the sense of foreboding grew.
Jami wouldn’t look at her, putting her even more on edge. Running a hand through his hair, he cursed. “Me. I accepted the debt, and now Marco wants me. I’m meeting his men here later.”
Alyson blanched. “You can’t do that.”
“It’s already done.”
“Take it back,” Alyson growled, growing furious.
“It’s too late.” Kissing the top of her head, Jami opened the door. “You should get back to work.”
“Are you serious? You expect me to go back to work and act like none of this is happening?”
“In a word? Yes. Alyson, I’m not going to fight with you on this. I need you out front handling business so I can concentrate on doing what I need to do.”
“And what is it you need to do, exactly?” she asked, allowing Jami to guide her out the door.
“Right now, I need to work a few things out with Don and for you to stop asking questions, because I assure you, you’re not going to like my answers. And if you see Spencer, tell him to meet me in the office.”
Reluctantly, Alyson agreed, and they parted ways. As she headed back to the front desk, she couldn’t help feeling as if it were a metaphor for their relationship. But this time, she refused to allow circumstances to split them apart. This time, she was determined to hold onto Jami, no matter the cost.
***
Jami sat in the backseat of the Lincoln Town car, staring through the blacked out windows as the city lights passed by in a blur. He’d closed down the gym early and dropped Ally off at Olivia’s, despite her protests to come with him. No way in hell that would ever happen.
After a brief talk, he’d gotten Don and Spencer to agree to tag along. He was headed into unknown territory, and it helped to have familiar faces by his side. Plus, maybe it would do Spencer some good to see what his actions cost.
The car pulled to a stop outside a vacant warehouse, and the men stepped out, guiding them toward a door located around back where two armed guards stood at attention. The whole scene screamed of danger, but Jami forced the cool mask of determination he saved for the ring in place and walked inside.
The space was vast and completely empty, except for one corner, which housed a boxing ring. Marco and two more of his goons stood outside of it, highlighted beneath a large lamplight dangling from the rafter. Hearing them approach, a welcoming smile spread across Marco’s face and he stood, smoothing his black silk tie down his chest. “Glad you could make it. I see you brought some friends.”
“This is my Coach, and you already know Spencer,” Jami introduced them. He was ready to get this thing over with.
Marco held his hand out to Don. “So you’re the man behind ‘The Judge’. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Hesitantly, Don accepted the greeting, exchanging a firm handshake. “Uh, you, too.”
“Well,” Marco said pleasantly, turning away from them. “Since we’re all here now, what do you say we get down to business? Mr. Weston, you’re probably wondering why the ring is here. As you know, without my money, I require flesh. You’ve agreed to give that to me.”
Spencer looked at Jami warily, but he refused to meet his gaze. “That’s right,” he responded, feeling his muscles tremble. He would be a liar and a fool if he claimed not to be afraid of what was coming. Men like Marco weren’t known for playing by the rules.
Marco clapped his hands together, the sound echoing throughout the empty space. “Perfect.” Nodding to one of his men, Jami watched, his mask perfectly in place, as the tall, burly figure stripped his shirt off, revealing stacks upon stacks of thick muscle. The guy was a beast. “This is my brother, Alejandro, the man you’ll be going up against tonight.”
Alejandro swung himself up into the ring without a backward glance. Don watched him with concern as the man stood like a mountain, strong and unmovable, waiting for Jami to join him.
“You want me to fight him,” Jami stated, pulling his eyes from his opponent.
“I want you to try,” Marco corrected. “Alejandro may not be a seasoned fighter like you, but he’s never lost a fight. Now, there’s two ways this can play out. One, you fight him and lose. If that happens, your friends will carry you out of here, and we’ll consider your debt paid in full.”
“And if I win?”
“You won’t,” Marco chirped confidently, “but if by some stroke of luck you do, I’ll still allow your friends to carry you out of here, but you’ll still owe me my money.”
“Sounds fair,” Jami quipped.
“That’s not fair at all.” Spencer stepped forward, suddenly deciding it was time to grow a pair.
Jami flattened his hand against his chest and pushed him back. “Shut your damn mouth.”
“Yes, Spencer, you should listen to the man,” Marco remarked.
“No, I’m not going to shut up. What kind of deal is that?”
“The only deal you’re going to get,” Marco snarled, his friendly smile vanishing.
“Just stand down and be quiet,” Jami told Spencer. Tearing his shirt off, he handed it to Don, who looked like he wanted to argue, too. This was the last place any of them wanted to be, especially when it was clear that there would only be one outcome. Climbing into the ring, Jami faced off with Alejandro.
“All right, gentlemen,” Marco announced, settling into a chair with an enormous smile. “I only have one rule, and that is that there are no rules. Let’s make this a dirty one.” With his final word, Alejandro lunged, his meaty fist connecting with Jami’s sternum. All the oxygen burst from his chest, and Jami went down.
A crushing weight fell onto his midsection, and Jami struggled to catch his breath and fight back. But Alejandro was too big, and Jami was at a disadvantage. The rules were simple. No matter what he did, he wouldn’t be walking away from this.
He never stood a chance.
Giant fists rained down, blackening both ey
es. Instantly, they began to swell, and Jami almost choked on the metallic taste filling his mouth. Instinct demanded that he fight back. Ignoring the burning in his lungs, Jami raised a heavy fist, prepared to knock Alejandro back and give him room to breathe, but Alejandro caught it midair.
Pinning his arm to the ground, Jami watched in horror as Alejandro stood. Replacing his hand with his booted foot, he smiled evilly as he crushed his right wrist into the canvas. Enraged shouts pierced Jami’s ears as Alejandro lifted his left leg and brought it back down.
Jami’s agonized roar filled his head. Repeatedly, Alejandro stomped down on his hand, until Jami felt nothing but the numbing buzz of nausea. He turned his head, vomit erupting from his throat, and then he looked up. Through the hazy pain-filled daze, he caught sight of a familiar face.
Tony Michaels.
Shaking hands with Marco, his venomous eyes rose, and he smiled cruelly at Jami. Just before everything went dark, Jami saw Don and Spencer rush him, and then Alejandro struck again, and it was lights out.
TWENTY-SIX
The smell of disinfectant burned Alyson’s nose as she raced down the brightly lit corridor, Olivia fast on her heels. She’d gotten a call from Spencer, telling her to get to the hospital, and she was out the door before the call ended.
Spencer hadn’t told her anything over the phone, and she hadn’t asked. The sound of his voice said enough. Now, as the nurse’s station came into view, she was wishing she had asked for more details. All kinds of horrible scenarios were going through her head, but she refused to entertain any of them for too long. She wasn’t going to break down or freak out until she had some solid answers.
“What room is Jamison Weston in please?” she asked breathlessly.
The nurse, no more than a few years older than her, turned her serene blue eyes on her and asked, “Are you a relative?” Her fingers moved over the keyboard in front of her.
“Yes,” Alyson said instantly, and then shook her head. “I mean, no.” The nurse’s eyebrow arched up. “I’m his…”
“Fiancée,” Olivia supplied, now standing beside her. Alyson passed her a thankful smile. “He proposed last night. It’s going to be a summer wedding. Ow, what was that for?” she hissed, rubbing her arm.
Alyson ignored her. “What room?”
“It looks like they put him in room three-seventeen. Just down the hall,” she said, pointing in the direction they should go.
Alyson took off running. Doctors and nurses passing by gave her disapproving looks, but no one tried to stop her. If they had, she would have decked them. No one was keeping her from seeing Jami.
“Here,” Olivia said, stopping in front of a door she had just passed. Alyson skid to a stop and spun back around. “Three-seventeen, right?”
Out of breath, Alyson forced herself to stand there instead of blowing through the closed door, as she desperately wanted to do. Suddenly, she was nervous. There was no telling what she would find behind that door. Would she be able to handle it?
“Are you going in?”
Alyson blinked and looked at her friend. “I’m scared,” she admitted.
Pulling her into a tight embrace, Olivia rubbed her back. “It’s okay to be scared, but he needs you. You can do this.”
“What if I can’t?” Her voice hitched, and Liv set her away enough to look her in the eyes.
“You can. And you will.”
Twisting her hands together, Alyson nodded, took a deep breath, and turned toward the door. Just knowing that Jami was inside waiting for her, got her feet moving. Just as she reached out to twist the knob, the door flew open, and a tall man in a white coat stepped out.
“Oh, excuse me,” he said with a friendly smile. “Are you here to see Mr. Weston?”
Alyson stood stunned for a moment before she managed to say, “Yes.”
“And you would be?” He leafed through the papers on his clipboard.
“His fiancée,” Olivia answered for her.
A small frown appeared as he regarded both of them. “And you are…?”
Smiling brightly, Liv said, “His sister, uh, in-law.”
Alyson nearly rolled her eyes, and from the look on the doctor’s face, he knew she was lying. “Right. I guess someone forgot to update the chart. Go ahead in,” he said, stepping to the side. The women rushed forward. “Just remember, he’s recovering from some serious injuries. He needs calm and quiet right now.”
The door whispered closed behind them. While Liv rushed into the room and straight to Jami’s bed, Alyson’s steps faltered. He looked… like nothing that she’d ever seen before. While Liv fussed over him, Alyson struggled to remember how to breathe.
Tubes and wires were everywhere—in his nose, his arm, sneaking beneath the blankets and his gown. His face was damaged beyond anything he’d ever gotten from inside the ring. Both eyes were nearly swollen shut, his entire face red and puffy. A bandage sat across the bridge of his nose, and she knew from experience that it was broken. There was more gauze taped to his right cheek, the red line of blood obscene against the stark white.
Movement of his right arm grabbed her attention, and her eyes fell to the large cast encasing his hand. A gasp left her, and she covered her mouth. They’d broken his hand?
“Ally.” The single word said on a sandpapered whisper, pulled her gaze up. Liv moved out of the way, taking the chair Spencer vacated for her. It was then Alyson noticed they weren’t his only visitors. Don was also there, standing guard on the opposite side of Jami’s bed. He watched her with a blank expression, cold but not entirely unfeeling. She could feel the animosity as if he’d reached out and touched her with it.
Jami lifted his arm again to wave her over, and Alyson saw the limb tremble from strain. Rushing to his side, she stopped just short of throwing herself on him. Grabbing the metal bar beside his head, her voice shook as silent tears escaped one after the other, rolling down her cheeks. “God, Jami…” she whispered, looking him over. What was there to say? He’d been beaten, and from the looks of it, he’d barely survived. They all knew who did it—Marco Maretti—and they all knew whose fault it was. Spencer’s.
The instant hatred she felt for the man nearly knocked her over. He was responsible for all of this, just as much as if he’d struck the blows himself. She could see him from the corner of her eye, standing there watching, but she couldn’t stomach looking at him. She didn’t trust herself not to hurt him.
“I’m okay,” Jami said on stilted breaths, and it made her wonder how much damage there was that she couldn’t see. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It looks really bad,” she countered, taking it all in again. The tears came faster, and a sob broke through.
“Come here,” Jami urged. His raspy voice made her cry harder.
“I’m afraid to touch you.” As she looked for a safe place to touch him, she couldn’t help laughing at the obscurity of the moment. She recalled their saying almost the exact same things to each other not so long ago, but this time she really was afraid. These weren’t simple contusions, and he wasn’t standing here laughing it off as if it were nothing more than a scratch. Jami looked… broken.
She sat on the edge of the bed, taking his uninjured hand in hers. Careful not to jostle him, she bent to kiss his knuckles. Don started speaking, listing all of his injuries, all the while, Alyson held Jami’s watery gaze. He was trying to be strong, as always, but he couldn’t pretend this time. He was hurt, badly, and it scared the shit out of him.
“Most of it is deep tissue bruising. The doctor said if it weren’t for all the muscle, he’d likely have ended up in the ICU or dead. As it is, he’ll recover, but it’ll take a while.”
“What about his hand?” It was enough for her to know that Jami would be okay, but she knew his hands were everything to him. Without them, he’d lose everything. His dreams would evaporate right before his eyes.
“Two broken fingers, a couple of fractures. They reset them, and bandaged him up, but that
’s about all they can do right now. We’ll have to wait until the cast comes off to see if he can still make a fist. If not, he might be looking at surgeries in the future to try to repair the damage.”
Leaving his perch by the window, Spencer took a step forward. Instantly, Don’s arm shot out to stop him. “I just want to apologize,” he said with a look of contrition.
“We’re way past that, don’t you think?” Don growled.
“Jami,” Spencer pleaded, looking to him.
“Leave,” Jami snarled. Alyson watched the different emotions pass over his face. Hurt. Anger. Disappointment. But mostly, she saw sadness.
“Jami, come on—”
“Fucking go!” Jami bellowed. His immediate grimace, followed by the rapid bleating of an alarm as his heart rate jumped, put Alyson in motion.
“Jami, calm down,” she cooed, feathering her hands over his bruised cheeks. “Please don’t hurt yourself.”
Behind her, Don was yelling at Spencer, and Spencer was appealing to Jami. Alyson was concerned with Jami’s stress levels, seeing the toll the commotion was taking on him despite his eyes being closed to her. She’d seen him in pain before but never like this. This went much deeper than the skin.
The door burst open a moment later, the doctor and two nurses barreling in. Immediately, they assessed the problem and moved to fix it. Ushering Alyson off the bed, one nurse began checking Jami’s vitals, while the doctor did the same from the other side. The same nurse she’d encountered at the front desk had placed herself between Don and Spencer and was now shouting at them.
“This isn’t the time or place for this,” she told them. “I’m afraid everyone is going to have to leave. Visitation is over.”
Alyson panicked. She just got there! “But visiting hours aren’t over for another four hours,” she interjected.
“Hospital policy. No fighting. I’m sorry, but everyone is going to have to go.”
Desperate for another option, Alyson looked to Liv, her eyes wide. Already standing, Olivia’s gaze darted to the door and back. A small smile crested a moment later. “One person,” she said, catching the nurse’s attention. “Let one person stay. I’m sure Mr. Weston wouldn’t want to be alone right now, right?”
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