by Kent, Julia
“I see my son hasn’t lost his taste for petite little virgin girls,” says a voice. I recognize it immediately from interviews and sports news.
It’s The Cure McClure, Colt’s father.
Chapter 18
My heart is hammering seriously now. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
He leans forward, his face closer to the twist of blue neon on the ceiling. A long seat wraps around the inside of the limo. He’s at the other end.
“I heard Gunner was doing a fight off the books.” He reaches for a stubby glass on a shelf beside him. An amber liquid swirls inside. He holds it out. “Need a drink?”
I shake my head no.
He takes a sip himself. “Sounds like he took a good pummeling in there.”
I’m not sure what to say. The limo moves forward, and I grip the armrest at my end of the seat. “Where are we going?”
“That depends on you,” Cure says. “And how cooperative you are.”
“I don’t have anything to do with you,” I say. But I’m guessing he’s going to try to get me to back off Colt. Fat chance.
Still, my heart still stings from Colt’s insistence I stay away. Maybe he wants his father to get rid of me.
“Oh, but you do,” Cure says. In the blue light, his face is eerily dark. His hair is buzzed short. At fifty, he’s still a very handsome man, but the years of fighting show in the bump of his nose, the lines around his eyes.
He sets the drink down. “Let me guess how this went. Colt saw you street fighting somewhere. Or just in some sort of altercation. He swoops in and saves you.”
My stomach starts to turn.
He goes on. “Then he tells you that you have potential. Gets you a job where you can be near him.”
I’m feeling really sick now.
He leans forward again. “And the clincher is always that you’ve never had sex before. That’s his special touch.” He laughs a little. “He and I have always had a sixth sense about that.”
My breathing has sped up. I don’t know what to believe. Maybe Brittany put him up to this.
Cure looks me hard in the eyes. “But he’s already had you. And now he’s trying to shake you loose.”
“He is not!”
He opens a side compartment next to his elbow. “That’s what the last three said.” He shakes his head as he pulls out a checkbook. “Let’s figure out how much your bruised little cherry is worth.”
I flood so hot that in any other circumstance, I would have jumped him, three-time heavyweight boxing champion or not.
But I just need out. I need Colt. I need to talk to him.
Cure clicks a pen. “Ten grand?” He looks at me. “Wrong-side-of-the-tracks virgins aren’t as valuable as a debutante.”
The hurricane is finally rising. The limo can’t contain it. I can’t tell where we’re going. Only the streetlights penetrate the dark windows as we roll along some avenue. But I’m not going to sit there one more minute.
While Cure scratches out some figure on his check, I lunge for the door and pry it open. The pavement rushes by in a blur, and a fire hydrant is just a blip of red as we fly past it.
But I don’t care.
I jump.
EXCLUSIVE Bonus Content by JJ
JUST FOR THIS BUNDLE, I wrote an extra bonus scene to sort of tidy up the storyline so you wouldn’t be left hanging quite so badly. I adore my fans and my readers, and I do understand that not everyone enjoys cliffhangers. I am grateful that my fans love them as much as I do!
This special chapter from Colt’s point of view does not appear in any Uncaged Love books. It’s exclusive to this bundle!
Colt McClure
I pace the dressing room, knocking away Simon, the doctor, when he tries to tend to my bleeding forehead.
Another loss in the cage. Another setback.
I know I’ve taken some blows and Doc wants to check for a concussion. I know I should pay attention. Let him do his thing.
But I can’t stop prowling the room like a damn caveman.
“Colt,” Killjoy says. “Sit down and let Doc check you.”
I wave him away.
What the hell has happened? How did Jumpstart get to me? He doesn’t have half my experience. This should have been one round and out.
Maybe I just need to quit. Work in the family business. Suit. Tie. The whole bit.
The room is a whirl, the chairs, the table loaded with food, the doors to the showers, the hallway, back out to the arena.
Brittany will be out there.
And Jo.
This finally makes me stop.
Jo.
Killjoy and Doc push me into a chair. I feel the sting of something on my head as Doc works fast. Then lights in my eyes.
“It’s mild,” Doc says. He sprays something cold on me.
I don’t flinch.
Jo.
The end of the match is still a blur. She was there, looking at me with such big frightened eyes. I’m nothing. I’m just a loser. I shouldn’t be training her. I don’t know a damn thing about any of it.
“Shower up,” Killjoy says, dragging me back to standing.
I turn to him and grab both of his shoulders. This startles him. I see a brief flash of fear in his eyes.
Does he think I’d hurt him? What the hell is happening here?
“Find Jo,” I say. “Find her now. I want her.”
He calms down. “All right, I’ll fetch her,” he says. “Now shower up.”
“I’ll do it,” Buster says. “I’ll track Jo down.”
I push through the bathroom door. I can feel the stares of everyone in the room. Thankfully, the match was a secret, so there’s no press, no prying eyes. Just my own people, probably wondering why they banked their careers on me. Why they still bother.
The water is hot and stings everything that’s open and cut. But it’s real, and the pain feels good. I can feel myself calming. I picture Jo again, frightened and upset after I yelled to get her away from me.
I’ll make things right.
I reach for another memory of her, lying back on her bed in that rundown apartment of hers. Willing, trusting. So fierce, but in that moment, she was mine. She was a part of me.
I am not going to let her go. No way. If I can’t train her proper, if Killjoy isn’t interested, then I’ll find someone who will. Maybe she can be the winner for the both of us.
I shut off the spray and towel off, feeling resolute. My clothes are piled up on a chair and I can’t get them on fast enough.
But when I get back out in the dressing room, everyone’s waiting, anxious. Buster. Killjoy. Doc Simon. Brent from the gym. And now, Brittany.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Where’s Jo?”
“She took off,” Brittany says. “What did you expect after your little display of affection?” She saunters up and and takes my arm. “Let’s go let off some steam.”
I shake her off. “Where is she?” My voice is a roar, but Brittany is used to me.
“Colt, let it go,” she says.
Buster takes a step toward Brittany His face is so red that his bald head shines like a sunburn. “Tell him what you did,” he says. “Corey ratted you out.”
Brittany’s face twists in a mask I know well. “It was divine intervention, Colt. Your father’s limo was right outside —”
Now my anger rattles the walls. “My father was WHERE?”
Killjoy pulls Brittany out of my way.
Brent steps around her, looking disgusted. “Your father found out about the match. Brittany had Corey and Jake load Jo into his limo.”
I turn away from the whole lot of them, searching the room for my phone. Brent hands it over in silence.
I try Jo first. Her phone goes straight to voice mail, so I hang up and send a text instead.
Shit, Jo, Brent says Brit shoved you in a limo.
I stare at the phone, willing Jo to write me back. Nobody leaves the room, waiting to see what I will do. Brittany sighs l
ike a drama queen, and I’m so tempted to have her thrown out on her ass that it takes all my control to turn away.
“She’ll be fine,” Buster says. “It’s just The Cure.”
I glare at him. He doesn’t know anything. What Pop did to the last girl. What he did to me.
Shit.
I drop into a chair and send another message.
Goddamn it, my father talked to you, didn’t he?
Still nothing. Maybe she is still in his limo, circling the block. I jump up to take off on my Harley, but Doc Simon intercepts me. “No driving, not yet. I want to watch you a little longer. You took some blows back there.”
“Everybody OUT!” I roar. “All of you.” If I’m stuck here, I want the rest of them out of my sight. I blame them all for what happened. Brittany most of all.
But nobody stopped her. Nobody stood up for Jo.
When they’ve all filed out except Doc, who stubbornly sits in a chair by the door. I dial my father’s number.
He answers in one ring.
“Another loss, I hear, Son,” he says smoothly.
“Yeah, nice to talk to you too,” I answer. “Where is Jo?”
The phone is silent.
“Is she still with you? Where the hell is she?”
For once, my father seems at a loss for words. “She took off like a gazelle,” he finally says. “Flighty, that girl.”
“What do you mean, took off? Did you drop her off somewhere?”
He clears his throat. “No, I mean, she flew the coop.”
“Speak English. Where did she go?”
Now his voice gives its first hint of concern. “I’m not sure what you see in that girl, Colt. I’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to locate her.”
“Where the hell did she go?” My panic starts to rise. If he was looking for her, something had happened.
“She vacated the car near the park.”
My vision goes red. The man is so damn maddening. “What are you saying, Dad? What did she do? What did YOU do?”
“She jumped from the car.”
“At a red light?”
“More like in the middle of the road.”
My stomach hits the floor. “Did you go back for her? Is she hurt?”
“We’ve been circling, but no sign of her.”
I hang up the call and push past Doc Simon. The park is only a couple miles from here.
“Colt, you aren’t up for riding that Harley right now,” he says, standing as if he can possibly stop me.
I don’t even pause, throwing open the door.
The rest of the team stands in the hallway, looking up when I storm out. I have nothing to say to any of them.
Brent chases after me. “You need a ride somewhere?” he asks. “Can I help?”
I ignore him, yanking my keys from my pocket. There’s a rat on my team somewhere, and I don’t trust a single person.
I’m going to find Jo. Myself.
And damned if I’ll let any of them stand in my way.
I hope you will continue with Volume 3 of Uncaged Love. I know not everyone is a fan of cliffhangers, but I LOVE writing serials that feel like a roller-coaster TV series. I am grateful for all my fans who love them too.
This five-part series is COMPLETE and is waaaay longer than just one book at 500 print pages. (And the cliffies get much, much crazier.)
I took lots of bumps and bruises for Uncaged Love by taking fight class with MMA fighters. I hope you will come along for the ride as I write a new MMA series with Parker called Fight for Her.
See a list of all JJ Knight’s books.
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Come join the fun. We have LOTS.
Thank you for reading!
Love, JJ
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No One’s Angel
By Kelly Walker
Description: Tess used to spend more hours than she’d care to admit playing her favorite computer game, using the nickname Angel. She could pretend her life was different, and she could pretend Arion was just a friend. But a girl needs more to keep her warm at night than pixels, and she traded her virtual heaven for a real-life hell. Now she’s on the run from a past she won’t talk about, and the only place she has to go is the doorstep of the friend she’s never actually met.
When Angel disappeared from their nightly games, it nearly destroyed Arion. He threw himself into work and women, but he can’t help knowing the one-night stands will never compare to the angel who haunts his dreams. At first, when she shows up soaking wet and scared-shitless on his doorstep, he thinks his prayers have been answered.
But the more Arion tries to keep Angel close, the more her fear drives her away. If they are ever going to have a chance for a future, they’ll first have to deal with the past that hasn’t forgotten her any more than she’s forgotten it—and Arion will have to learn how to let her go.
No One's Angel is a New Adult (NA) Contemporary Romance about a girl learning to fight back and a boy learning how to let go. It is recommended for mature audiences only due to language and sexual content. (HEA ending and cliffhanger free.)
For those who fought
and those who didn’t
for those who got away
and those who couldn’t
for each of the silent sisterhood
who know that any is too many
Let your past be but a mere shadow behind you as you walk forward
brave enough to face the sun of a brighter tomorrow.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the name brand/registered products and wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Names, characters, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright ｩ 2013 by Kelly Walker. All rights reserved.
www.kellywalker.net
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One
Angel
When people say soaked to the bone, I think this is what they mean. I’m not sure what has chilled me more: the ice-cold rain pelting my face or the memories of what I’ve left behind. I can’t go back, so I have to find a way forward. Life isn’t a game, and I can’t replay this level, no matter how much I wish I could.
Shivering, I shift the strap of my backpack to my other shoulder and squint at the soggy corner of an old Christmas card. It’s been clutched in my hand for so long it might be unreadable even without the downpour. If I wasn’t numb, I might panic. The rain must have distorted the address, because according to the lump of cottage cheese-like paper in my hand, his house should be here. Unless he lied, which is always possible. Maybe even probable.
As I scan the deserted Philadelphia street, I try to shove the useless paper in my pocket, but the drenched denim is plastered to my hips. Across the watery road, a bar sign blinks, beckoning to the college kids from a few blocks over. I’ve already watched a few go in as I stood here, wondering where to go next. Because I don’t have anywhere else to go. There’s three dollars left in my pocket, not even enough for a coffee. I spent everything I’d managed to get a hold of on a plane ticket from Tucson to Philly. No matter how inviting the bistro next to the bar looks, I can’t even afford a sandwich. I’m screwed.
Another round of shivers leaves my teeth chattering, and I can’t take it anymore. Bars are usually dark; maybe I can hide in a back corner or something and dry out for a few minutes while I make a plan. That’s all I need, a plan, and then everything will work out. I’ll find him, and it will be okay. If I tell myself that lon
g enough, I might even start to believe it. Who am I kidding?
A bouncer cocks an amused eye at me as I walk in. “Forget your umbrella, sweetheart?”
To forget it, I’d need to own one first. And I own nothing but what I brought in my backpack. Living in Tucson, an umbrella hadn’t been high on my list of necessities. You wanted different, I remind myself. Shrugging at the bouncer, I work my way through the meager crowd of scantily dressed coeds, aiming for the blonde watching me from behind the bar instead of for the back. If I remembered correctly—which was a big if—he’d taken a few college classes, maybe even at the college down the street. It couldn’t hurt to ask if she knew him.
“What can I get for you?” A bright smile plastered on her face reveals teeth about two shades too white.
Oh, the options. A new life. Or even just dry clothes. Since I turned twenty-one a few months ago, I could even ask for a drink if I could afford one. “Um, a glass of water, maybe?” The irony of asking for water while soaking wet isn’t lost on me.
Blondie’s smile fades. “If you’re gonna sit in here, you have to be a paying customer.” She wrinkles her nose as she turns away, dismissing me.
Desperation, barely disguised as eagerness, has me leaning across the bar, trying to keep her attention. “Actually, I was looking for someone. I think he may live near here. Arion. I mean, Axel. Maybe you know him?” I could kick myself for using the wrong name. I probably sound like a stalker or a lunatic. Maybe even both.