by Josie Kerr
Junior grinned. “I hope so.” He took a deep breath as the train slowed. “Nice talking to you. Have fun in the city.”
Junior exited the train into the Ninth Street Station and ascended the stairs to make his way to Washington Square. He walked a few blocks, feeling very conspicuous and mildly regretting wearing his dress blues. He got a few looks, but also more nods and smiles, so that by the time he arrived at his destination, his confidence had returned.
Junior bounded up the stairs to the entrance of the apartment building and made his way up two floors and down the hall to a small corner apartment. He took out his key but waited a beat before he put it in the lock.
“Here goes nothing,” he said to himself, and then he unlocked the door to let himself inside the apartment.
He wasn’t surprised that the apartment was dark, as it was still fairly early, and he knew that the love of his life was not a morning person and didn’t have class until after lunch. Junior laid his key on the bar and walked down the hall toward the small bedroom’s closed door.
Junior froze with his hand on the doorknob when he heard a low groan. He listened hard for a moment and then heard another. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he sucked in a breath and threw open the bedroom door.
Junior found Derek Martin on his knees, ass in the air and his cheek pressed against the mattress, moaning, as a big, swarthy, hairy man pounded into him from behind.
“Fuck.”
Both men on the bed looked up at Junior’s exclaimed curse.
Derek pushed himself up onto his hands and gaped. “Junior? What the hell are you doing in here?”
The big guy had sat back on his haunches, his face furrowed in a frown, and looked from Derek to Junior and back.
“I got some unexpected leave and, uh, thought I’d surprise you.”
The dark guy snorted. “Yeah, looks like you achieved that goal.”
Ignoring Derek’s pleas to wait, Junior bolted from the apartment after leaving his key where it lay on the bar. He slowed to a brisk walk when he reached the door of the apartment building and headed back to the train station, where he quickly changed out of his dress blues and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
He took his time washing his hands in the lavatory sink, trying to figure out what he was going to do next. His mother expected him to stay in The City that night, knowing he was seeing his boyfriend for the first time in almost a year, and going home would just elicit a line of questioning that he didn’t want to answer.
So what would a young, unexpectedly single soldier do if he was facing a weekend in New York City?
Decision made, Junior put his bags back in the locker and headed toward the taxi stand.
“Where to?”
“The Village.”
Junior and Derek had planned to go to a real gay bar since their junior year in high school when they—or at least, Junior—had come out. They’d actually skipped their prom, and armed with fake IDs, headed into The City for their first taste of gay life. They got to the club, and Derek had gotten spooked when he thought he saw one of his father’s friends outside. So Junior, not wanting the fake ID to go to waste, found them a cheap hotel room in Chelsea, and they had a romantic dinner and finally lost their virginities.
Junior sighed. The scene that he witnessed that afternoon made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t necessarily going to be sharing any more “firsts” with Derek.
“Belly up to the bar, buddy.”
“What?”
The bartender tipped his head toward the large windows at the front of the bar. “You’re new here. Belly up to the bar so when the cops check, they don’t think you’re looking for a john or a trick.”
Junior hurriedly turned around. The last thing he needed to top off this shit sundae of a weekend was to get thrown in jail on a solicitation charge. “Uh, thanks for the advice.”
“No problem.” The bartender extended his hand. “Anthony.”
Junior paused a beat. “Um, Junior.”
Anthony gave him a knowing nod and set two shot glasses on the bar in front of him. He poured two fingers of liquor into each and handed one to Junior.
“To first timers,” Anthony toasted, making Junior chuckle.
“To first timers.” They each downed the shots, and Anthony poured Junior another. “On the house. From one soldier to another.”
Junior blinked at Anthony.
The bartender grinned. “Infantry.”
Junior raised his shot. “Same here.”
“Have fun.” Anthony winked at Junior and walked to the other end of the bar to serve another patron.
Junior was chuckling to himself when a hand brushed over his bulging bicep. He turned his head to see a man taking the barstool next to him.
“Hello,” the clean-cut fellow said.
Junior nodded. “How you doin’?”
The man smiled broadly at Junior. “Well, aren’t you a breath of fresh air?” He stuck out his hand. “Chester.”
“Junior.”
“Pleased to meet you, Junior. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure.”
The two men talked for a while, Chester buying three drinks for every one of Junior’s. Junior had a good buzz going, enough to fade the image of the morning. He was contemplating how best to proposition Chester when the other man dragged his hand across Junior’s broad shoulders before standing up and heading toward the back of the bar. He turned around and nodded his head toward the direction he was headed and then sauntered around the corner.
Junior took a deep breath, downed the shots in front of him, and followed him to the back. He turned the corner, and Chester grinned at him from the bathroom doorway.
“I thought you might not have gotten the hint.”
Junior grinned back at him, and Chester pulled him into the bathroom, locking the door behind them.
Junior spent the weekend at Chester’s Chelsea apartment, and Chester spent the weekend on his knees, with Junior’s cock either in his ass or his mouth. Amused at how much his fading bruises and new, livid scar turned the older man on, Junior allowed Chester to fuss over him, giving him massages that ended with Chester pleasuring him with his hands or mouth, taking the edge off Derek’s betrayal.
And lots of kissing. The kissing was Junior’s favorite part.
He came from a family where the physical affection of hugs and kisses was the norm, and Derek’s lack of enthusiasm for handholding and kissing, even when in private, often frustrated him, so Junior appreciated Chester’s fervor for smooching foreplay.
Sunday rolled around, and the two men shared a final meal before Junior returned home to Newark. Chester insisted on calling and paying for a cab to take him back to the train station, and as they waited for the cab to arrive, Chester stroked Junior’s short, cropped hair.
“Look me up any time you’re in the city,” he said, giving Junior a long, slow kiss when he saw the yellow taxi pull up in front of the brownstone.
“Sure. It won’t be for a while. I go back for at least six months.”
Chester gave Junior one last kiss, and Junior got in the taxi to begin his trip back home, knowing that he’d never see the man again.
Chapter One
Present Day
Atlanta, Georgia
Junior Maldonado rolled over in the bed, hoping to feel the solid warmth of a body, but instead all that greeted him was an expanse of cold sheet.
Dammit.
It didn’t surprise him that Ryan left in the middle of the night, but he was still disappointed.
Junior pressed his fingers against his closed eyelids, praying that the pressure would discourage the inevitable headache that came after a very late night of not enough sleep and too much alcohol.
He cracked one eye open to glance at the clock that sat on his nightstand. The alarm was due to go off in seven minutes, so Junior just sighed and hauled himself upright. He sat on the edge of t
he bed, both feet flat on the floor and head bowed, until the alarm shrieked through the silence of the semidark bedroom. He let it sound for a few pulses and then turned it off.
He stumbled into the bathroom and didn’t even wait for the shower’s water to warm up before he stepped under the spray and mindlessly proceeded through his morning routine. The shower alarm clock sounded, and he silenced that alarm before yawning hugely and stepping out of the shower.
Junior blearily eyed his reflection in the mirror.
Man, I am definitely not twenty-five anymore. He snorted. Hell, he wasn’t even forty anymore.
He rubbed his hand over the heavy stubble on his jaw, deciding that he could get away with one more day without shaving. Maybe he’d start his winter beard early. He knew the salt-and-pepper tones made his dark blue eyes even more striking, and he was just vain enough to grab onto every scrap of attraction he could get.
He leaned in closer to the mirror as he smoothed dry oil over his shoulders and chest, making sure he rubbed extra on the puckered scar on his right pec. Judging by the color of the stubble on his chest—and lower—he’d qualify as a silver fox. Silver fox was a fine label when it applied to hair on your head and face. On your chest and in your bush? Not so much. He leaned in closer to the mirror when something caught his eye.
What the—oh, hell . . .
He huffed a laugh. How many years had it been since he had a hickey? Damn. At least it would be covered by his tank. He absolutely did not need any of the jokers at the gym giving him a hard time about getting some action, especially since there wasn’t any action had, not really.
Fucking Ryan Richards.
Junior snorted. No, not fucking Ryan, because Ryan kept his head and didn’t let it get that far, as much as Junior wanted it to. The two of them had been dancing around each other for over two years, ever since Ryan and his twin brother took over the refurbishing of the studio apartments above Doyle’s South Fight Club.
Junior heard the third alarm chime from the kitchen. He shook his head at his reflection and retreated from the bathroom to dress and head off into the predawn morning.
“Good work, guys, good work today. I’ll see everyone tomorrow morning.”
Junior watched his fighters file out of the gym, chattering and giving each other a hard time, and he couldn’t help but grin.
He thought about that first day when he got off the plane at Atlanta Hartsfield, and Colin Carmichael, the MMA champion he had been training for over ten years and the man he considered his closest friend in the world, drove him directly to the pitiful, decrepit inner-city gym that he had just purchased. Junior thought that the big fighter had lost his mind and his money, but once Colin showed him around, his enthusiasm infectious, Junior understood the potential that Colin saw.
Now, almost three years later, Junior looked around DS Fight Club with satisfaction. Almost every piece of equipment was being used, the classes were all booked to capacity, and the fighter roster was filled with top-notch athletes. This was the culmination of a more-than-ten-year journey.
“Hey, Dreamer, what the hell are you thinking about?” Colin’s hand on his shoulder and his question jolted Junior out of his rumination.
He chuckled and shook his head, turning to Colin. “Do you remember what you said after that first day in the gym back in Madison?”
Colin looked at him blankly.
“That day in the gym after we drove like complete morons for fourteen hours from New Jersey and headed straight into a workout? That day, you said, ‘This is what I want. After I retire a champion, I’m going to buy a gym just like this, and we’re going to train the best fighters the world has ever seen.’ ” Junior had laughed at the time, but hell if it wasn’t becoming true.
“I remember that day. One of the scariest days of my life, man.”
The two men stood in silence, side by side, until Colin cracked his neck and shook his head.
“Junior, we need to talk about some things. Meet me in my office in five.”
Junior snapped his head toward Colin, but the big fighter remained staring straight ahead, though his body language seemed relaxed.
After making a trip to the kitchen, Junior slumped into the chair in Colin’s office, a post-workout shake in one hand while scrubbing his face with the other. He yawned hugely, his jaw cracking.
“Holy shit, Junior. Looks like you didn’t have the quiet Halloween that you planned.”
Junior snorted. “Yeah, not quite. I had an evening filled with drag queens, pool, fireworks, and a freaked-out, combat-fatigued Navy corpsman.”
“Whoa, Junior. That is a lot of information you dropped on me in one sentence. You went out with Ryan?”
Junior nodded. “Yeah, it started out nice and easy, but then some jackass set off a bunch of Black Cat firecrackers in the parking lot, right next to the deck we were sitting on, and Ryan. Lost. His. Shit. I barely got him back to my apartment.”
“But he’s okay now, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah. At least, I think so.” I hope so.
“But there’s something else, right? You wanna talk about it? I mean, who does Doctor Love go to when he needs a Doctor Love? Dig?” Colin wheezed with laughter at the thought of Junior taking relationship advice from the heavyweight playboy striker.
“Holy shit, can you imagine? Who knows what sort of advice that guy would give me. Have you seen the type of women he tangles with?”
Colin nodded, a twinkle in his eye. “I have. But someday, Dig is going meet a woman who is completely resistant to his charms, and it’s going to drive him nuts. And I’m betting that day is going to come sooner rather than later.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Junior paused, a thoughtful look on his face.
“But?”
Junior waved his best friend off. “I . . . yeah, I can’t talk about it right now because I don’t know what I think about it.” He chuckled. “Anyway, you said you need to talk to me about something?”
Colin’s face grew serious. “Bruce Pryde called Paddy yesterday.”
A call from Bruce Pryde always warranted paying extra close attention.
“Oh, shit. What did he want?”
“Another expo fight.”
Junior’s jaw dropped. “Did Paddy tell him he was out of his goddamn mind?”
The last exposition fight was a complete shit show that featured Colin’s scheming ex-girlfriend and a vengeful opponent named Damon Pierce. It culminated with Colin being laid up with a broken jaw and shattered arm and Paddy sucker punching Pierce.
Another expo fight was definitely not what DS Fight Club needed.
“Paddy thinks that Raptor’s the one agitating for a fight, not Pryde.”
“Well, Pryde’s not an idiot. He’s also not a greedy fuck like Raptor is.”
Pryde, one-half of the Raptor Pryde duo who headed up DS Fight Club’s biggest rival gym, was a stand-up guy. His partner, Jett Raptor? Not so much. Junior and Raptor had a long history of barely restrained hostility.
“And Paddy also tentatively agreed to it.”
“Excuse me?” Junior laughed. “I thought I heard you say that Paddy agreed to it.”
“Tentatively agreed.”
Junior looked hard at Colin, who sat impassively behind a big desk. He heaved a sigh. “Damn. Go on.”
Colin began to recount exactly why Paddy thought this was a good idea. As he talked, Junior felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He ignored it.
After the phone buzzed several more times, Colin rolled his eyes and asked impatiently, “You need to get that?”
“Nah. Probably a wrong number,” Junior said with a dismissive shake of his head, but when the phone actually rang with his eldest sister’s ringtone, Junior frowned and quickly answered it.
“Marta, what’s up? Did you text me earlier?”
As his sister began to babble at him, Junior held up a finger to Colin and stepped outside his office.
; When Junior returned, looking rattled, he merely said, “C, I gotta go now. I’ll call you when I get to Newark, but right now, I gotta go.”
Colin stood up, his face concerned. “Junior, what’s going on?”
“It’s Nanda. She’s gotten herself into something bad, and I gotta go up.”
Colin snorted. “I thought you said you weren’t going to swoop in and rescue her again after that last little incident.”
“Normally I would say the same thing, Gordo, but this is different. Marta insisted that I come up, so you know this shit is bad.” Junior shook his head. “I gotta go,” he said with a shrug.
“Shit, you need to take the plane?”
“No, by the time you get shit arranged and flight plans and all that, I can be a quarter of the way there. I’ll call you tonight. Give Tig and Charlotte my regrets about bailing.”
“Dude, come on. They’ll completely understand.”
“Yeah, okay.” Junior got ready to leave, but Colin grabbed him in a one-armed hug.
“Be careful going up there, okay? It won’t do anyone any good if you get hurt as well.”
Junior huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be careful. Talk to you soon.”
“Be safe, buddy.”
“Always am.”
Junior trotted out of the gym, thankful that he kept two changes of clothes in his car at all times and had gassed his car up the night before.
Chapter Two
Newark, New Jersey
Junior texted Colin, knowing that the big fighter would be waiting up to hear from him despite having a five o’clock session the next morning.
Junior got out of the car, stretching and popping his back, trying to relieve some of the tension that had been accumulating on the twelve-hour drive from Atlanta to Newark. He took a deep breath, knowing that he was most likely going to need every ounce of his patience to keep his cool to get through his youngest sister’s latest escapade.
Fernanda was his baby sister, the youngest of the four Maldonado siblings and an unexpected change-of-life baby, who was just short of three when Hector Senior was killed in a workplace accident and in her early twenties when she lost her mother. Life had not been easy, and Nanda and Junior were more alike than not in temperament, which led to both more understanding and more arguments.