by Amity Cross
Rush
(#9 The Beat and The Pulse)
Amity Cross
Rush (#9 The Beat and The Pulse) by Amity Cross
Copyright © 2017 by Amity Cross
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All song titles, song lyrics, products, networks and brand names mentioned in this book are the property of the sole copyright owners.
Cover Design © Amity Cross / Nicole R. Taylor
1
Jade
The city looked completely different at one p.m. on a weekday.
Hopping off the tram, I clattered across the street and onto the footpath, my heels tapping on the asphalt. I felt like a rebellious anarchist taking an afternoon off away from the office, and my stomach rolled. The unfamiliar feeling of not being chained to my desk with my smartphone welded to my left hand while the right typed yet another email made me want to upchuck. But that was me. Jade Forsyth. Workaholic.
Starting the three-block journey home, I watched all the cars, trucks, and motorcycles flash past. Who were all these people, and why weren’t they at work? Maybe some of them were, but it was still an alien sight.
Charles, the CEO of Slattery Press, had ordered me home after he’d caught on I’d been coming into the office at seven a.m. and not leaving until seven thirty at night. Grumbling, I strode down the footpath, still pissed he’d told me off for doing too much work. Seriously? He should be giving me a raise! Marketing was my forte, my professional calling, and my campaigns brought in big wads of cash for the company. No use having a book without anyone knowing about it.
Too much work? Pfft.
What was I going to do with my afternoon now? I had hours and hours to fill. What did people do on their days off? I had no idea, and if I were being honest, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had time to myself. I could do anything I wanted, and the thought was too much to handle. Being idle? What the fuck was that about?
Opening the front gate to the house I shared with my fiancé, Hunter, I wondered what food we had in the pantry. Usually, we ordered in or would divide and conquer a frozen meal from Lite n’ Easy. I could only imagine the look on his face when he sees the cornucopia of food I was about to prepare with my own two hands. My cooking skills were meager, but seriously, how hard could it be with instructional YouTube videos at my beck and call?
We lived in a renovated two-story terrace in Collingwood, the heritage front a complete juxtaposition to the modern interior. It was a one-point-five-million-dollar oasis in the inner north of Melbourne. The CBD was literally in walking distance, though I preferred to take the tram into work every morning. It was better than destroying my toes in the designer shoes that were my spirit animals.
Hunter came from old money, his trust fund containing more cash than I’d ever seen in my life, and his job as an international criminal lawyer brought in the big bucks. In comparison, my job as head of marketing at Slattery Press brought in a quarter of what he did.
Sliding my key into the lock, I turned and pushed the heavy door inward, the familiar scent of home wafting out into the crisp afternoon.
I could be forgiven for being attracted to Hunter for his good looks and money, but it was never like that with us. We’d gravitated toward one another our entire lives. From all-night ragers in our high school years—we went to neighboring all boy and all girl private schools—to studying at Melbourne University, shared friendship circles, old family ties…it was as if we were destined to always find each other. So when Hunter asked me to marry him, it was like the circle had finally completed itself.
Setting my handbag on the hall table, I sighed. I would have to Google ‘Cooking for Dummies’ if I was going to get through the afternoon without blowing up the kitchen. My keys rattled as I threw them down, and I hesitated.
A thump echoed through the floorboards, and I glanced up at the ceiling. No one was supposed to be here. Hunter was at work and never got home from the city until after seven. He worked even later than I did, so we were as bad as each other.
Another thump sounded upstairs, and my heart leapt. This could not be a home invasion. It just couldn’t. I didn’t have time for this shit.
Opening the hall closet, I fished out the aluminum softball bat that sat just inside. Hunter played softball all through high school and still dabbled when he had time. Sunday picnics with our friends usually culminated with a few rounds on the oval at the Yarra Bend Reserve, and I’d developed a good swing over the years. If there was an armed robber upstairs, then they would get the fright of their life. I would slug them right in the ball sack. Pow.
Tiptoeing up the stairs, I listened to the sounds. Was that…moaning?
On the landing, I zeroed in on the master bedroom. Hunter’s and mine.
Nudging open the door with the tip of the bat, it took a full thirty seconds for me to register what was happening.
Hunter was on the bed, completely naked, balls deep in a woman I’d never seen before. Some brown-haired skank with fake tits. They were in the middle of a vigorous fuck session, the headboard knocking against the wall as he thrust into her.
Then his eyes met mine at the same moment the woman screamed.
“Shit!” he cursed, almost falling off the bed. His cock slipped free, and I almost threw up. He wasn’t even wearing a condom!
“You piece of shit!” I shrieked, throwing the bat at him.
It sailed over his head and slammed against the wall with a bang as the woman scurried up the bed, scooping the sheets around her.
“Who the fuck are you?” she exclaimed, looking at me as if I was in the wrong.
“I’m his fiancée, you stupid bitch! Get out of my house!” Bending over, I began picking up her clothes and throwing them at her face. Grabbing a shoe, I tossed it along with a skirt, and it smacked her right in the head.
“Fuck, Hunter, what’s going on?” she cried, snatching her stuff off her face. “You said you weren’t seeing anyone.”
“Ana,” he said, still cowering against the wall. “I’ll fix—”
“Get out!” I yelled again, tearing at the sheets.
“Psycho!” she exclaimed, hurrying from the room with her clothes clutched against her naked chest.
“I’m the psycho?” I yelled after her. “You’re the whore who fucks other people’s fiancés!”
“Jade, calm down,” Hunter pleaded behind me.
Turning, I stared at him, feeling like I was going to vomit. He was still naked, his cock sticking up in the air and slick with another woman’s juices. Puke.
“How could you?” I asked, my eyes filling with tears. “After all we’ve been through?”
“Honey, let me explain. Ana—”
“Just fell onto your cock, and you just happened to start wiggling your little dick in and out?”
“No, I…” He ran his hand over his face, looking uncomfortable.
“Why the fuck do you even want to get married?” I asked, fighting back tears. “If you love someone, you don’t sleep with other women and lie about it.”
“So if I had said something, you would’ve been okay with it?” he asked, looking hopeful. “You’re willing to have an open marriage?”
“N
o!” I shrieked. What a dumb ass!
“Jade…” He reached out for me, and I raised my hand and slapped him.
My palm collided with his cheek with a satisfying crack, and his head snapped to the side.
“I can’t even look at you,” I said, seething. “I can’t even touch you. You broke my fucking heart, and now I have to get tested for every STD under the sun. You’re nothing but a filthy, lying, prick, Hunter. Get out of my house.”
He stood there, looking sheepish, and I resisted the urge to slap him again.
“Move!” I yelled.
He scratched his balls, his cock still hard. “Uh… It’s my house.”
My mouth fell open as I realized what was happening. He was kicking me out. This was my home too, and unlike him, I had nowhere else to go.
“You’re kicking me out?” I asked, completely shocked. “After you…”
“I’m not leaving,” he replied. “I’ve got a briefing tonight.”
“You were supposed to love me,” I whispered, my throat tight. “I loved you, and you were supposed to…” It wasn’t even worth finishing the sentence. Hunter was never going to change.
Taking the diamond engagement ring off my finger, I threw it at him. He raised his arms to shield himself, and it bounced off his forearm, collided with the wall, and then fell onto the floor.
“It’s over, Hunter. It’s so fucking over.”
“Jade, babe…” He held open his arms. “Let’s talk about this.”
My gaze fell to his cock, and I almost choked on my own vomit.
“You’re still fucking hard,” I said to him with contempt. “There’s nothing to talk about. You don’t care about me. I’m entirely sure you never did.”
“That’s not true,” he complained.
“It’s so true that it’s taking all my strength not to go downstairs, get a carving knife, and hack off your dick.”
His eyes widened.
“The least you can do is get the fuck out of the room so I can pack,” I went on. “I’ll be back for the rest of my things as soon as I can organize a mover.” I snorted and turned toward the walk-in closet. “When I’m done, I’ll leave the key on the hall table.”
I backed away, a small part of me wishing he would fight harder. All he’d done was some mediocre begging and hadn’t even bothered to cover the erection he’d been plowing into another woman. My heart shattered at that moment, and I didn’t know which way was up. All anyone ever wanted was to be wanted, and he didn’t even respect me enough to get dressed.
“That’s it?” I asked, turning to look at him one last time. “You’re not even going to fight for me?”
Hunter stared at me, and I fancied I saw a little piece of regret flash through his eyes. Knowing it was only my imagination, I bit my bottom lip to stop a sob from bursting free in front of him.
“I’m leaving for Dubai on Wednesday,” he said. “I’ll be gone for two weeks.”
Turning, I fled into the walk-in closet and slammed the door closed behind me. Pulling down my suitcase, I unzipped it, a single tear escaping. Fuck him.
Folding my favorite dresses, I set them into my case, my entire body aching with the effort to keep myself together. Cheated on by the man who was supposed to love me, then kicked out of my home. It was a story from some movie, not real life. This didn’t actually happen to people, right? I was going to wake up, and my perfect world would still be intact. This was at the opener to one of Slattery’s romance novels. This was the hook.
This was my life.
Filling my case as much as I could—jamming it full of clothes, underwear, and shoes—I zipped it closed and pulled out the handle.
The bedroom was empty when I emerged. Stumbling into the ensuite, I gathered my makeup and toiletries, feeling like an imposter in what had been the most familiar place in my entire life other than the office.
Glancing at my engagement ring on the floor, I snatched it up and threw it into my handbag. Consider it collateral.
Dragging my case downstairs, I could hear Hunter in the second bathroom, showering the lingering stench of cheating filth from his toned body. Gathering my handbag, I fished out my mobile phone and called a car to come pick me up.
Rather than wait inside, I stood out on the porch in the crisp autumn air, my heart numb to everything.
How didn’t I see this coming? Hunter and I had been on and off again so many times while we were first dating it was ridiculous. I’d always known he had a wandering eye, but I thought he would put a stop to it the moment he asked me to marry him. I believed him when he said he loved me, but it was all a lie. How had I been so blind?
Standing out on the street, it finally hit me.
My life was over.
2
Ryan
“It’s been almost two years!”
I thumped my fist against the punching bag, frustrated when my knuckles didn’t even sting. Not even a little bit.
“It’ll happen, mate,” Ash said. “There just isn’t anyone good enough to fight you.”
I glared at him one more time before staring out over Pulse Fitness. I’d spent years training in a shithole before coming here, and now that professional MMA was in my sights…there was no fucker to fight. What a kick in the guts.
What was I supposed to do now? Wait? I’d waited too long and wasted more time than I liked being idle. I was getting bored. That had always been my problem. Complete and utter boredom. It was frustrating as fuck.
“It’ll happen,” Ash said again, clapping his hand on my shoulder.
Ash Fuller was my coach and hadn’t let me down yet. He knew how the system worked and played within the rules. Granted, he was kicked out of pro, but he was offered another shot, which he turned down to open Pulse Fitness where he now trained my mate Cole and me. Fighting was what we were good at, and Ash…he knew how to take us there. I just didn’t expect it to take so long.
Glancing back at him, I grunted. He stood almost a head taller than me, his build much sturdier than mine. He was tipping the scales into heavyweight, mostly because of the muscle he managed to pack on, and compared to my middleweight, he could knock my block off in two seconds flat. He’d done it before when I’d stepped out of line, and like typical blokes, we sorted out our beef in the octagon.
“Take a break,” he said, nodding toward the front door of the gym. “Let me work on the AUFC. They know you’re ready to debut, but you know those fuckers. They’re waiting for the money shot.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, cracking my neck. Not having anything else to say that wouldn’t get me into trouble, I walked across the mats and into the male change rooms.
Ducking into the shower, I stripped and stood under the cold water until I’d washed away the filth of that morning’s training. It was almost cruel in a way. After so much work, I could finally see the next big milestone, but it wasn’t coming. Everything hinged on one little thing. Ash said it would happen, but when?
I was sick and tired of waiting.
Getting dressed, I shoved my keys, wallet, and phone into my jeans’ pocket and stashed the rest of my gear into my locker. Slamming it closed and spinning the combination lock, I strode out of Pulse and into the cool autumn afternoon.
There were tons of guys looking to crack into the AUFC, so why wasn’t there anyone for me to fight? The competition wasn’t that stiff, was it?
Lost in my thoughts, I found myself on Victoria Street, the main thoroughfare through Abbotsford. This area was full of Asian grocery stores, restaurants, and other shops. There was a chemist, newsagent, and some junk stores, but mostly, the entire stretch was full of the scent of spice and honey from cooking. It was the little Asia of Melbourne, and it was an effort not to gorge myself on carbs every time I walked down here.
Turning, I stumbled as a familiar head of ginger curls came into view. It couldn’t be…could it? Of all the places for her to finally appear, it had to be a block away from Pulse.
Jade Forsyth.
She was exactly how I remembered her, except she was older. Less girl and more woman. Narrowing my eyes, I also remembered when she’d chosen someone else over me. Granted, she didn’t know she was choosing, but by the time I grew enough balls to do something, it was too late.
Crossing the street, I stood a few paces away, not sure if I should say something, but she looked shell-shocked. Something had happened.
“Jade?” I asked, looking her over. Up close, she was even more stunning. She was all woman and then some.
Slowly, her head turned, and my breath caught. It was definitely her. Her skin was pale, the freckles I used to tease her over still dusted across her nose and cheeks, and her pink lips were glossy with lipstick. Green eyes, made iridescent by the brilliant ginger of her hair, stared back at me.
“Ryan?”
Her voice sounded the same, too.
“Yeah. Are you okay?” I asked, my gaze flicking to the suitcase, then back to her.
“I just caught my fiancé screwing another woman…in my bed,” she declared. She just let it rip like a single day hadn’t passed since we’d last seen each other.
“Hunter?” I asked, her declaration opening up an old wound. Fiancé?
She nodded.
“Ah, shit,” I cursed. “I’m sorry.”
“The taxi didn’t come,” she went on. “So I walked, but I took a wrong turn, and now I don’t know what to do.”
From looking at her, I gathered she was lost because she was upset. If her head were screwed on right, she would’ve flagged down any of the half dozen taxis that had passed us while we’d been standing here. Jade was always overconfident, overorganized, and extremely loud. I wondered if she still swore like a drunken sailor.