by Frankie Love
"I don't want to marry him, I never did. But I want to do right by my family."
He can't hold back any longer. He lets go of my wrists, and walks around the island, pulls out my stool, steps closer to me.
"JoJo, your family is the mob. They kill and they destroy. They've ruined this town. Grotto kidnapped Emmy, framed Ace. And your family wants to make an alliance with them. Isn't that fucked up to you?"
My chest tightness at his words. Just because my family is the mob doesn't mean I walk away from them. But maybe there are other reasons to leave.
Reasons like McQueen.
"My family may be fucked up, but I love them. I said I would never leave them." I look into his eyes, and pull his body to mine. "Until now."
"What happens now?" His mouth comes closer as the realization of what I'm saying hits him. His tense jaw relaxes, his shoulders fall.
"Now I stop running," I whisper. "Now I stay."
"Just like that?"
"Once I tell my father my choice, you'll be in danger. We both might be."
"I'll risk it." His voice is solid, something I can hold onto.
I never want to let go.
"You think I'm worth that risk?" I ask.
"I know you are."
He lifts me up from the stool, and carries me to his room, laying me down on the mattress. I close my eyes, wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as possible.
He strips in a matter of seconds, no theme song or any fancy dance moves. Right now, what I have is pure Ryan McQueen, rock hard and sure of what he’s doing.
He slides off my pants, my panties. He kisses my entrance, he kisses my belly. He pushes up my shirt and pulls down my bra and kisses my breasts. He wraps his hands around my head, and brings my mouth to his.
He's an expert at sex, but a fucking God at making love.
"I love you," I tell him.
"I know." His breath is heavy and hot; our bodies are entwined.
"And I need you."
"I know."
"And I want you."
He pulls me up, into his lap, and I wrap my legs around him, my hands holding onto his shoulders.
"Good," he tells me, and then he eases his massive cock inside me, as I swivel my hips to make space for him.
It feels so good, to be filled with him. His solid rod presses into my center, and my pussy tightens in response.
"You feel so good," I moan.
McQueen's hands run over my spine, and our chests press together. His flesh against mine cements how well we fit together. My nipples rub against his chiseled chest, and my skin is on fire as we deepen our hold on one another, as if we can't bear to let go.
"Oh, baby," he says, "you make me come so fast."
"Me too. It's so good." My head falls back as he thrusts deeper in me, grabbing my ass as he sends an orgasm through me. My thighs are slick with release and he holds me close as he comes, too.
Much later, I fall asleep in his arms, wondering if I explained well enough how scary this might get, how much I’m ruining by choosing him. But I don't want to burden him with my family.
That’s my cross to bear. My story to end.
I wake up early, just after six in the morning. I kiss McQueen’s still sleeping face, and slip out the front door.
I need to settle this, once and for all.
McQUEEN
We fucked all evening, spoke little. Ate pizza at midnight, then fucked some more.
We didn't speak much. JoJo isn't a talker, and I don't have much to say.
Besides, I already said everything.
I love her and want her and would do anything to have her.
When I wake, she isn't here.
My chest tightens. The first thing on my mind is Grotto, that he got hold of her again. Or that she got scared and went back to him.
She wouldn’t do that, would she?
It's eight in the morning, but we were up until the early morning hours. And it's not that late. Way earlier than I usually rise.
I listen for sounds from the bathroom, the kitchen. All I hear is the hum of the refrigerator, a garbage truck trundling down the street.
I look out the window. Her BMW is gone.
I call her cell. No answer.
I call the gym. No answer.
I look around the hous. Maybe she left a note. People leave goddamned notes, don't they?
There's nothing.
She's gone, right after she promised to stay.
Fuck this. My heart pounds in my chest. Not knowing where she is fucking messes with my mind. And not because I want to control her, but because I’m scared for her. Because she doesn’t think she needs me to protect her.
I yell, punch the wall. Then I punch it again. It's bullshit. There's been enough back and forth. Enough hide and seek.
I sit on the couch, icing my bloodied hand, knowing I'm not doing that childish bullshit again.
No, this time I'm playing hardball.
Chapter Twenty-Three
JoJo
I pull up to the house, punch in my security code to open the gate. It's only six-thirty in the morning, but I know Dad will be up.
Since I never received a text or a call demanding I return home, I figure Grotto listened to my demands and made a good excuse for me. Still, I know that what I’m about to do and say is going to change my life forever.
And while it is terrifying, it's also a relief. Isn't this what I've been hoping for? Praying for? A way out?
I just never thought my out would mean leaving my family.
I take a deep breath as I park my car next to the row of SUVs. I can't think too much about what I'm saying good-bye to or I'll start crying. My dad might forbid me to see Mary, the kids. And if he doesn't, Connor might.
Right now, I just need to get in the house and tell him everything. Starting with the truth.
"Dad?" I ask, stepping into the kitchen.
He's sitting at the table, as always, drinking coffee. Maybe some people picture mobsters in dark clubs and alleys, but Dad is legit. This is a real operation—a multimillion dollar one, in fact—and he starts his day like most businessmen: drinking coffee and reading the news.
"It's early," he says, stating the obvious. He sets down his phone and looks at me. "Everything okay? I thought for sure I'd hear something from you after I sent Grotto over here yesterday."
"He told you I was going to be out for the night, though?"
"He did. Kinda odd, to be honest. He said a friend of yours stopped by and needed you. He seemed okay with it, and I figured it was Lucy."
"Right, well." I get a cup of coffee and sit down at the table. "It wasn't. That was a lie."
"What?" Dad looks at me, trying to read the situation. "Were you with Grotto all night, then?"
"No, I was with McQueen."
He shakes his head, and I swear steam is coming out of his nostrils. "Josephine, we've been over this."
Just wait until I tell him the rest.
Dad's smart, he doesn't miss anything. "And why, exactly, would Frank cover for you?"
"Because he caught me at the house with McQueen, and then I sort of hurt him. Kinda badly. Which freaked him out, because he wasn't expecting that from me. And I sort of threatened him, too."
"You've gotta keep talking so I don't lose my shit."
"Right." I smile tightly, knowing I just need to get it over with. "The thing is, Dad, I haven't been honest."
I explain the whole story, from the beginning. Glossing over the details of my first hook-up with McQueen, but also unable to leave some parts of it out. That night was the first time the stalker showed up. I explain how we don't know who sent the flowers, the dick pic, or the panties.
Which also means I have to explain that I'm training to be a fighter. Dad's face moves from fury to surprise to anger to shock. But he doesn't say a word, just clenches his jaw and nods for me to go on.
I'm putting him on an emotional roller coaster, and for a moment I feel bad about that
... but then I remember everything he’s put me through since Mom died.
"Look, I know it's a lot of information, but I want you to know I was still willing to go through with the wedding until yesterday."
"What happened yesterday?"
"Frank tried to rape me, Dad. The man you want me to marry. He put his hands down my pants, forced me to kiss him. I only got away from him because I'm a trained fighter. If I weren't? Dad...." I shake my head, unable to think about Frank forcing himself inside of me.
Dad covers his face with his hands, but he says nothing.
"Dad, you know he's a convict. You know he’s shady. I don't know why you'd even want an alliance with his family, why you're okay with risking my life to get what you want.
"And that's why I decided to come here today and tell you … I’m leaving the family. I'm not coming back. Because if my own father is okay with marrying me off to a man like Grotto, this isn't really family at all. Family should love and protect. Family should offer shelter, not create the storm."
Dad sits quiet for a long time, and I stare at my now-cold coffee, my entire body numb. I laid it all out there, I told him my truth, and he can do with it what he likes.
But damn, it's gonna be hard to walk away and never come back.
Finally, he speaks, and as I expected, it isn't touchy-feely. There are no apologies, no asking me to please stay.
"The stalker, you have any leads?"
"None."
He nods. "I'll get my guys on it." He pushes away from the table and walks away.
So I do, too.
It's still early. Maybe somewhere in my naive brain, I thought I'd tell Dad everything and he'd ask questions, maybe yell, maybe throw stuff. Do something. But since he didn't even respond, or give me a chance to defend myself, I get in my car and head back to the interstate.
Looking at the clock, I see it's just barely 7:30. I know McQueen will still be asleep for a few hours, and my body pulses with unused energy.
I think I wanted to fight with Dad, but he didn't let me. Now, I need to get out some of my pent-up adrenaline.
I pull into Kit's Gym, and there’s a freedom in coming here today. Yesterday I skipped practice, and my body is itching to pull on my gloves.
Eventually I'm going to have to call my sister and Lucy, but right now I just need to let it all out on a punching bag.
Kit's car is here, which makes me smile. I can explain that this won't be my only fight after all, that he was right to never give up on me.
Pulling on the door, I see it's locked, so I knock. A second later, I see him walking toward me. The gym doesn't open until nine.
He hold the door open for me, and I step inside the familiar sweat-filled gym.
"You sleep here, Coach?" I ask. He looks tired, but smiles at me—though a bit tightly.
"I do, sometimes." He shrugs, flipping on the lights in the gym. "Didn’t expect to see you so early.”
"Figured as much." I stop at his office door. "Is it okay that I'm here? I needed to let off some steam."
"Sure, uh, of course." He enters his office and begins clearing the desk with abandon. He won't meet my eyes, and I can tell something is off.
My stomach sinks as I prepare for the worst. Maybe the fight got called off and he's scared to tell me.
"Hey, can we talk for second?" I step into his office without waiting for a response.
"Um, yeah, of course, JoJo," he says. His eyes dart around the room, and he closes his laptop quickly.
"Well," I begin, as I take a seat in an empty chair. "I left the other day on less than stellar terms. And then yesterday I didn't show. I just want to apologize."
"You don't have to say sorry to me. I'm just happy you came back. I don't know what I'd do if my top fighter left for good. When McQueen stopped by asking for your address, I knew he'd get you back here."
I pause, confused. "You gave McQueen my address?" I scrunch my nose, trying to understand. I guess I hadn't thought through how McQueen knew where to find me. But I never tell anyone where I live. Only Lucy knows. I sure as heck have never told Kit, and definitely not McQueen. No way in hell would I want any of those guys showing up around my family.
"How did you have my address, Kit? I never gave it to you, did I?"
His face reddens, and he wipes a trickle of sweat from his forehead. "Oh, sweetie, you gave it to me once a long time ago."
"No," I say, shaking my head. "I didn't." I’d feel awful if information about where Dad’s house is got leaked. I may have told him I was leaving the family, but it doesn’t mean I want harm to come their way.
"Well, anyways, I’m sure there was just a mix up," Kit says, brushing my questions off. "I'm glad you’re here. The fight's going to come up fast. And don't worry about the reporter. I rescheduled with him."
"But how did you know I wasn't coming to the gym yesterday?"
"Oh, I'm a coach, I have a sense about these things, darlin'." His eyes rest on me a beat too long, and I try to shake the feeling in my gut that something is off.
"Okay." I’m annoyed at myself for not being able to get a good read on Kit; he and I always see eye to eye. But maybe he’s pissed at me for flaking this week. Wanting to assure him that I’m here for good, I try again, "Well, I'm not quitting fighting, and I'm okay with my name being on the banner. So maybe we can get those headshots done, after all. I know how much you've put into working with me, and I don't want to let you down."
"Good girl," he says. "You know, I've got a camera, I could take some photos of you in the ring today."
"You're a photographer? I mean, no offense, Kit,” I say, laughing, feeling more relaxed, “but I want these to look really good if they're gonna be plastered around the strip."
"They'll look good. Promise. Just let me get my gear."
I shake my head, laughing, waving him off as I stand. "Whatever, boss. I didn't know you were a photographer, too, is all."
I turn to leave, but see his camera bag on the floor. Reaching for it, wanting to help with the gear, I knock it over.
"Oh, shit, hope I didn't damage anything." I reach inside the bag, seeing a large scope and a camera that really does look professional. Taking it out, I give a low whistle. "Oh, wow, you really are legit."
"Yeah, just give it to me," Kit says, grabbing for the camera and taking it from my hands. His fast movement surprises me and I lose my balance. I fall, catching myself by grabbing the seat of the chair, but the fabric camera bag is smashed by my foot in the process.
"Thank God I took out the camera," I say, laughing at my clumsiness. As I pull the bag out from under me, a pile of photographs flutter out.
My heart stops. My brain adjusts. My eyes focus.
"Kit?"
In the moments it's taken me to look at the photos, he has managed to maneuver to the door, to lock it.
"What's going on?" I ask, stumbling back from the crouching position I’m in. His office is crowded and messy, but it's also holding evidence that tells me Kit isn't who I thought he was. Not in the least.
The photos are filled with me, changing in the locker room, half dressed, fully nude. Photos of me with McQueen, photos of me touching myself, looking in the mirror, private moments when I thought I was alone.
I blink back tears as the pictures fall from my hand. There are so many.
"You? You've been the one stalking me? All along?"
Kit's eyes run over my skin, and I feel my flesh shiver under his gaze.
Kit, who always leaves the gym when I'm done with a workout, who never minded me being here alone ... each time he must have snuck away and spied on me.
"But why? You've been so kind to me." I'm scared to stand, to come face to face with him.
"Because I love you, Josephine. Love you more than McQueen ever could."
I struggle with his words, wanting to outwit him, wanting to outsmart him so I can get the fuck out of this office, away from him. But he's standing in front of the locked door, and maybe my MMA moves
worked on Frank Grotto, but Kit has taught me everything I know.
They won't work on him.
"Then why let McQueen stay here and work out with me? If you wanted me for yourself?"
"Oh, sweetie, I love to see you happy, to see your body spread out for him. I love to watch you give in to the pleasure, to the thrill. I wouldn't take that away from you. Besides, I'm a patient man. I can wait my turn."
"No," I shake my head, trying to get my bearings. The panic in my chest presses down hard. This cannot be happening. I’ve trusted Kit with my life, and he’s just another man, using me to get what he wants.
"There is no turn for you,” I tell him. “It doesn't work that way."
"Yes, darling, it does."
He steps toward me, and I scream, shocked that he would be coming this close to me.
"I thought the photo of you and McQueen would be enough to send him running, but I was wrong. He liked the idea of you being watched as much as I did. He didn't even do anything to stop me."
"Because he didn't know."
"If he really wanted to catch me, he could have. He doesn't love you. He had some idiots come here, scour the place, but of course I hid my trail. He didn't call the cops because he didn't really care about you."
"That's not true. I told him not to call in back up. It was because I was stubborn and stupid—and anyways, why are you telling me all of this? Why do you want me to know how twisted you are?"
I stand, my feet apart, my shoulders square. I’m not going down without a fight. But it’s hard to get in the right frame of mind when I’m still assimilating the information, terrified that he's going to come closer to me.
I can't have two men coming after me in twenty-four hours. Grotto, then him. It's too much.
"Baby, I'm telling you because I want you to know how much I love you. How I'd do anything for you." He licks his lips and steps in front of me, pins me to the wall, not giving me any leeway to get out of his grip. "Did you like the picture of my cock?"
"I never saw it," I tell him, trying to fight out of his hold. I kick at him, but it only makes his grip on my wrists harder.
"Well, it's your lucky day. You can see it now."