Grudge Match

by Jessica Gadziala

  It may have been a long time since I needed even a third of the supplies, but in my life, I figured it was only a matter of time before I needed them again.

  I was glad I had thought so far ahead.

  I was pretty sure she would be having a mild heart attack if I didn't have all the things she thought she needed to patch me up.

  It happened then, watching her mumble to herself as she lined way too many items up on the counter, worrying herself for me.

  A strange warmth spreading across my chest.

  I watched her reflection, completely unfamiliar with the sensation, but knowing it for what it was.

  I was falling.

  If I hadn't already hit the bottom.

  It should have been terrifying.

  Enough to send me fucking running.

  But as I watched her reflection in the mirror, eyes rolling while she mumbled a bit frustratedly, "Three different brands of triple antibiotic, but not a single bottle of witch hazel," I knew there wasn't a force on earth that could send me running.

  "Addy, baby," I called, making her head snap up, like she had been so lost in her thoughts about taking care of me that she completely forgot I was actually sitting right there. "I need to shower," I told her when she spun on her heel to face me.

  "No. We can like... rinse you off or something. You can barely stand up on your own, Ross. I don't want you falling in the shower."

  "Then I guess you are going to have to come in with me, aren't you?" I asked, smile a little devilish even though I knew there would be no fucking in there. I was proud of the fact that I could often push past my discomfort when the time called for it, but I was smart enough to know my limits.

  I needed the night.

  Tomorrow morning?

  Yeah, that was another story.

  "Ross, be serious," she said, but her lips were curved up.

  "I am serious," I said, forcing myself to stand, kicking out of my shoes, and reaching down to push my shorts off my hips. "I can't turn to reach to wash my back. You wouldn't want these cuts to get an infection, would you?" I asked, turning slightly to show her my back where I had scratches from slamming back against the jagged floor during the main fight and, later, fighting back Kenny's dipshit friends. But, let's be real, as soon as I turned, her eyes were on my ass, not on the cuts on my back.

  "Just cleaning," she told me when she dragged her eyes back up, tone firm. "I mean it. We need to get you clean and then get some cream and bandages on your hands and back and, ugh, neck. How did you get those gashes?"

  "Do you really want to know the blow-by-blow, or do you want to get your clothes off, and get in the hot shower with me?"

  Without waiting for an answer - because I knew what it would be - I moved toward the shower, reaching in to turn on the water, then turning back to look at Addy who had already kicked out of her sneakers and socks, and was dragging her pants down her legs.

  By the time her hands were reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra, my cock was already hard and straining, my balls tight with the need for release.

  Parts of me, apparently, didn't get the memo that the rest of me was out of commission.

  "Come on," I said, moving inside, watching as she moved across the floor, gloriously naked, and completely devoid of any self-consciousness.

  "Just cleaning," she specified again when I reached to put an arm around her, intending just to get her under the water too so she wasn't cold, but, well, there was no way she didn't feel my cock pressing into her belly.

  "I know, baby," I agreed, handing her the soap. "Can't help it that I always want to be inside you."

  Always.

  I swear to fuck, she left me for work, and I spent the rest of the day actively trying not to think about fucking her.

  I failed most of the time.

  Hence the raging hard-on even though my body was screaming in pain in a dozen or so spots.

  By the time her hands were moving down my chest after reaching around to clean my back, I was more than fucking halfway there and she hadn't even touched my cock.

  "What? I don't get to wash you?" I asked when she put the soap down, and reached behind me to shut off the water.

  "Next time," she promised, going out to grab us both towels. "Right now, I really want to get some triple antibiotic at least on your knuckles."

  With that, she disappeared out into the other room, coming back in one of my shirts, hanging so long in the arms that she had to fold them back a few times to expose her hands. I liked how she looked in my shirts, how they swallowed her up, how she always reached for them whenever she could.

  I dried off then wrapped in the towel, knowing she was going to want to tend to my back too, then let her fuss over my hands, my neck, my back, asking me if I had any icepacks to put on my face to prevent swelling, making me gargle with salt water to help the bleeding gums.

  "What?" she asked, looking up, her brows creased in confusion, making me realize I was grinning like a damn idiot.

  "It's nice to be fussed over," I admitted, shrugging a little.

  Her cheeks went a little pink as her gaze went down for a second. "Let's just not make a habit of this kind of injury, okay? I can fuss over a paper cut too."

  I smiled at that as she walked me out to my bed, then went back to clean up.

  "Should I order you something to eat? Or get you some Advil or something?"

  "Baby," I said, reaching out when she came near the side of the bed, "stop. Come over here," I demanded, giving her a little pull, as much as my screaming ribs would allow.

  "I really should..."

  "Come over here and relax. You had a bit of a crazy day, and it is past your bedtime," I added, giving her a smile as she carefully moved in toward me, seeming like she was petrified I might break if she so much as brushed me.

  "Alright. How do you feel?" she asked once she settled. "And don't give me the manly 'everything is fine even though half of my head is blown off' answer. Real answer."

  "Real answer? Feel a lot better right now," I admitted because, well, it was the fucking truth. "Thank you for giving a shit. I've never had that before."

  Damn if her eyes didn't go all glistening right then too.

  Hadn't done a fucking thing in my life to deserve her, yet here she was, in my arms, worrying her lower lip and tearing up because I just gave her the damn truth and a small bit of gratitude.

  I went to reach for the light past her, letting out a hard hiss at the stretching of my side.

  "You're sure I can't get you some Advil?" she asked as I moved to roll onto my back, taking as deep a breath as I could through the stabbing sensation, knowing that breathing shallow was how you got lung infections after a rib injury, not wanting to have to endure that for the fourth time in my life.

  "It will be fine in a day or two. Nothing is going to stop it until then."

  "Nothing?" she asked, an odd inflection in her tone I couldn't place until I looked over to find her eyes a bit heavy-lidded as her hand moved out to pull the sheet down to reveal my still-hard cock. "I think I might know one possible remedy," she offered, giving me a saucy smile as she moved between my legs, leaning down so her hair brushed my stomach, my thighs.

  There was hardly even a hesitation before her lips wrapped around the head, sucking me into her warm, wet mouth, making a small shudder rack through my body as she started working me, steady, but slow, like she was trying to be careful.

  But there was no need.

  Because the second I felt her mouth on me, I stopped feeling anything else.

  And by the time I came, there wasn't a goddamn bit of pain in my body.

  There was nothing else but her.

  Even as she cuddled in beside me, careful not to touch anywhere she thought might hurt, which meant her hand was resting barely on my shoulder only, I realized that was what she did for me.

  She muted the world.

  She muted the bad memories and the shit that normally plagued my mind day in and d
ay out.

  When she was around, that was all there was.

  Everything else was quiet.

  It was the most peace and freedom I had ever known in my entire fucking life.

  She gave that to me.

  As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell I had to offer her that could even come close to that.

  FOURTEEN

  Adalind

  He was a horrible patient.

  Terrible.

  An absolute freaking pain in my ass.

  Yeah, I said it.

  Because he was.

  I had called out of work the next morning, knowing it wouldn't be a huge hardship since there were only three patients on, all of whom were regulars, so there was really nothing for me to do but make sure they signed in. As for the phones, well, they could leave a message with the service. I was pretty sure no one was having some 'chiropractic emergency' or anything.

  But I had figured when I woke up at five AM, a little disoriented, sneaking off for a glass of water, that if I didn't stay in, he was going to push himself and maybe hurt himself worse.

  So I left a message for work, and climbed back into bed, glad I was staying and doing the right thing.

  That lasted for, oh, say, five minutes after I became conscious again.

  Yep.

  That was all it took for me to be annoyed with him.

  He thought he was going to go get his tires rotated and go to the cleaners.

  When he could barely walk without hissing out in pain.

  Men.

  I finally understood why my mother used to literally hide from my father when he got so much as a sniffle.

  They were impossible.

  Heaven forbid you get in bed, watch some stupid re-runs, catch up on sleep, and let your body start to heal.

  "I've had a lot worse than this, Addy," he told me shaking his head as he poured a cup of coffee.

  "That doesn't mean that this isn't serious though," I insisted with a sigh, letting him refill my cup because I had a feeling I was going to need it.

  I was at least thankful that he had the night off. He didn't have to go into Hex all night. It gave his poor ribs one day to stop making him need to focus on his breathing to make sure it wasn't too deep, or too shallow.

  "They need to breathe," he insisted when I balked at him washing the salve off his knuckles. "The triple antibiotics are great for right after, to make sure nothing nasty got in there, but the cuts need some air so they can close up. If you keep the skin too wet all the time, it will take forever for it to close up."

  I guess he would know better than me about such things, but I still held firm on my belief that asking him to stay in bed was not exactly a ridiculous request.

  "We just ordered food," he said, shaking his head. "I promise that after we eat, I will get into bed for a little while."

  "And do nothing," I clarified.

  "For a while. And then I'm getting my ass back up again."

  He really wasn't a man for lazing about.

  I could respect that.

  Actually, it was rather attractive, to be honest. He was always doing something, always making moves, always getting things done.

  It was admirable.

  But when you were hurt, you had to take it easy.

  To me, that wasn't a crazy hard concept to grasp.

  But, I guess, with his life, with his background, he had never really been given the chance to just stay in bed and heal.

  Thank you for giving a shit. I've never had that before.

  My heart simultaneously soared and ached when he'd told me that.

  But mostly, ached.

  Ached for that little boy whose mother forgot to feed him, for that teenager who found her dead body, who was then thrown in a basement with other kids and forced to fight it out, to take care of themselves, to get harder.

  And even, a bit, for the man who had never known softness before.

  I couldn't imagine how the world must have felt to someone who knew nothing of it but the cold and hard.

  "Okay, but for..." I trailed off, the door beeping. "No," I said, a bit too firmly when Ross went to move toward the door. He looked down at me, one brow quirked up, his lips twitching. "Is it so hard for you to let someone else do something for you? Geez," I said, shaking my head at him as I moved across the apartment to open the door.

  "Thirty dollars for a fucking burger, think they'd give ya more chips than this."

  And there he was.

  Adler.

  In the hallway somehow, despite not having a key, picking fries off my plate like it was the most normal thing in the world.

  "Adler?" Ross' voice called, a mix of confused and tentatively happy - like he was scared if it was too happy, it might slip away from him.

  "That's a nice fucking view too," he said, pushing the cart inside. "Hey there, duchess. It's a fucking crime to be that pretty at this hour," he declared, charisma seeming to simply ooze out of him as he casually walked inside, moving toward Ross like there hadn't been over a twenty-year gap since the two had last seen each other.

  With nothing else to do, I closed the door and moved inside, closer to Ross who was watching as Adler casually moved over toward the windows, looking out at Navesink Bank.

  "Adler," Ross called, voice a little firm, making the man turn his head over his shoulder with a small smirk.

  "Ward," Adler called back in the same tone, but his lips were tipped up slightly.

  "What the fuck are you doing here?"

  "Fine way to greet yer old friend. Especially after spending twenty-some-odd years trying to track 'em down."

  "You knew I was looking for you?"

  "By my count, what was it, four private investigators and two trackers?"

  "Three," Ross clarified.

  "Fuck. Missed one. Losing my edge. So, you're the one," he said, looking directly at me.

  "I'm sorry?"

  "Miller got his woman. Delaney gets every woman. Cohen is back with his goats," he said with a devilish little smirk that, had I not been so into Ross, I would have found incredibly sexy. "And now Ward has you."

  "And who do you have?" I asked when Ross just seemed to remain stubbornly silent, or too shocked to think of what to say.

  "Me, duchess? I got who I've always had. I got me."

  "Why now?" Ross asked suddenly, making Adler's head turn toward him.

  "Been out for so long, then I get word that you're holding a fucking grudge match. Had to see what that shit was about. Woulda stayed in the crowd - ya know, like I've done at that club of yours - had ya not been about to kill that fuck."

  "You were at Hex? When?"

  "Oh, here and there when I was passing through. Yer security system has some blind spots," he informed Ross, going to pour himself a cup of coffee, completely oblivious to how strange this entire encounter was. "And these hotel keycards are good, but not impossible to get a copy of. Ya still got that soaking tub? That shit was nice last time I dropped in."

  "You've dropped into my place before?"

  "Oh, only like a time or three, Ward. No big deal."

  My eyes went over to Ross, finding his usually somewhat guarded face completely open, showing me surprise, amusement, confusion, and just a small hint of anger.

  "You've broken in here three times," Ross clarified.

  "Hey, ya don't want people moseying in, don't make it so easy," Adler said with a shrug, moving to the cutlery drawer, then back to the cart, taking a third platter that we decidedly didn't order, and bringing it back to the island to eat.

  "And you gave me grief about my door," I teased Ross, enjoying it a teeny bit maybe that he wasn't perfect, that people could get one over on him. But mostly only because that person was Adler, and he didn't mean any harm.

  "To be fair, ya leave it unlocked as often as ya lock it anyway."

  Okay.

  Maybe it wasn't funny if you knew someone had been in your place. Eating your food. Cleaning off
in your bathtub.

  "Relax, I washed the sheets."

  "You slept in my bed!" I whisper-shrieked.

  "Ya were here. Figured ya wouldn't be home."

  "But what if I did come home? To find a strange man in my bed?"

  His smile went wicked again, his gray eyes dancing. "I've never been kicked out of bed before."

  "There's a first time for everything," I shot back, shaking my head, something that made him laugh.

  "I thought she was all milk and honey," Adler told Ross as he opened the lid on the meal he somehow ordered and put on Ross' account. "It's good there is some vinegar."

  "You're not breaking into her place again, Adler," Ross told him, voice a mix of firm and amused.

  "Ya gonna stop me with yer busted ribs and old man walk? Bet I could still wipe the floor with ya. Though, it was nice to see you ain't completely lost yer touch after all these years."

  "You still fight?" Ross asked, clearly wanting information, but trying to ease it out of this man who had been sneaking around his life for, well, who knew how long.

  "When I have to," he allowed. "Though not for money anymore."

  "You left me next to a pile of bodies," Ross said next, surprising me with his bluntness.

  "The fucking kids were driving me fucking nuts," Adler said, shaking his head. "Sobbin' and beggin' to get going. I had to get 'em out of there before I ended up adding them to the pile. I did come back. But ya were gone by then."

  "Where'd you go?"

  "Here and there. Bumped around the States for a bit until I could afford passage out. Hopped countries for a couple of years, then made my way back."

  "How long have you been here?" Ross asked.

  "Here in Navesink Bank, or here in the States?"

  "Both."

  "States about eight years. Navesink Bank, eh, I've been in and out of it for about two I guess. Stopping in between jobs."

  "Spying on me."

  "Says the man with the team of private investigators and overpaid trackers."

  "Why didn't you just come up to me?"

  "Eh, dunno. Ya had moved on. Everyone has moved on. Figured ya didn't want to relive the past."

  "I was looking for you; I obviously wanted to find you."

  "Wasn't sure ya weren't on a mission to whoop my arse for shooting ya, digging into yer shoulder with my bare fingers, and leavin' ya there. Grudge match, much like yer one last night. Made a lot of money on ya too. Those fucks were so shocked when ya came out all marked up, looking like a beast escaped from hell. Fuckin' priceless, that was."