DS Fight Club Box Set (Volumes 0-3)

by Josie Kerr

  “Thanks, Nanda.” Dig downed the shot and choked. “Fuck, Nanda, what was that?”

  “Oh my God, do not tell me that Big Dig can’t handle a little whiskey,” Nanda snorted.

  “I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting you to drink whiskey, for some reason. And by the way, hello.”

  “Hello, Dominic.” Nanda frowned. Was she slurring? She hadn’t had that much to drink.

  “Hey.” Dig grinned and settled in the chair next to her. “I say that we blow it completely out. I start training camp soon, so it’ll be a long ten weeks of no fun. What do you say, Miss Maldonado?”

  “What have I told you?” she huffed.

  “ ‘I don’t date fighters,’ ” he said, mimicking her. “Yeah, I know. But will you drink with a fighter?” Dig quirked an eyebrow at her. Damn that was cute.

  “Hmm. I might drink with some fighters. But don’t expect me to fuck you when I’m trashed, because I don’t fuck fighters.”

  Dig inclined his head. “Understood. So, should we get a bottle?”

  “Most definitely.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “It’s karaoke night? You guys didn’t tell me it was karaoke night. You fucking suck.” Nanda swiveled her head around, showing Dig the back of her neck, the creamy skin of which he barely resisted pressing his lips against. “Why didn’t you tell me? I fucking love karaoke.”

  “Of course it’s karaoke night. That’s the only reason I’m here,” Dig scoffed. That, and a little cowboy told me that you’d be here.

  Dig thought that he saw Nanda’s bottom lip almost stick out in a pout, but then she fixed her face in her usual skeptical scowl that she wore when he was around.

  “You sing?”

  Dig shrugged. “Yeah, I sing a little.”

  Tig guffawed. “Nanda, the boy has some pipes. He’ll go up there and sing some ‘sex-you-up’ song, and then the ladies will drop their drawers and run over to him like . . . ow! What was that for, baby? Damn. I can tell you’ve been working out.”

  “Tig. Hush.” Charlotte jerked her head at Nanda and shot him a look.

  “Oh. Oh.” Tig smiled weakly. “My bad.”

  Before Dig had a chance to downplay Tig’s very accurate assessment, Nanda hopped down from her barstool, rushed to the karaoke hostess’s stand, and began flipping through the song list. Dig watched Nanda, her face animated with a bright smile as she shook the hostess’s hand before making her wobbly way back to the table.

  She slipped back up into her chair and poured herself and Dig another shot. Dig eyed her warily. “You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself, Maldonado. What are you up to?”

  Nanda winked at him and threw back her drink. She leaned into Dig and said in her husky voice, “You’ll find out, DiGiacomo. Another?”

  “Sure, but that’s the last one. I think you might need to slow down, too.”

  Nanda blew a raspberry at him. “I’m fine. I can hold my liquor, no problem.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and leaned in close. “Come here, Dominic DiGiacomo. I need to tell you something.” She crooked a finger at him.

  Dig leaned in, and right as Nanda opened her mouth to say something, the karaoke hostess called his name.

  “Baby, hold that thought, okay?”

  Dig winked at Nanda and strutted to the small stage at the front of the pub.

  The familiar strains of a Jason Derulo song pulsed through speakers, and Dig, in a flawless falsetto, sang to Nanda, incorporating gyrating dance moves and beckoning her to the stage, though she stayed firmly planted in her chair.

  When the song ended, Dig strode off the stage. “Did you like that?” he whispered in her ear, before sliding into his seat.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  The sight of Nanda leaning on the table, her top dropping to expose one honeyed shoulder, sent Dig into full-on lust mode. His cock hardened, and he considered, once again, just picking her up and carrying her out to his car.

  “How much did you like it?”

  Nanda took a sip of her whiskey. She licked her lips and leaned in even closer. “Dig, I liked it enough to—”

  “Nanda, come on down, honey!” The karaoke hostess motioned Nanda to the stage.

  Nanda shrugged. “I’ll tell you in three and a half minutes.” She hopped off her chair and made her way to the stage, swinging her hips and shooting a hot glance over her shoulder.

  Dig groaned and put his head in his hands as the strains of AC/DC came over the speakers. “Oh, fuck me. This song.”

  He did not need to think about Nanda’s American thighs. At all.

  Dig thought he heard a snicker, but when he snapped his head around, he found Tig and Charlotte looking blandly at him. He scowled and turned his attention back to Nanda, who was still belting out the song and shaking her ass at him.

  Damn, she is fine.

  Dig groaned and shifted in his seat, discreetly palming his aching balls.

  A hand snaked around his chest to pluck at his nipple, and the cloying scent of chocolate and roses filled his nose.

  “Hey, sexy,” a voice purred in his ear.

  Dig pulled the woman’s hand off his chest. “Hey, uh, Jacquie.” He darted a glance at the stage, where Nanda was finishing her song, and sent up a quick prayer that Jacquie would be gone by the time the feisty gym manager got back to the table.

  “I saw you sing earlier. It was hot.” Jacquie played with the straw in her overly sweet cocktail, and Dig wondered why in the world he spent any time with her, much less breaking his usual “one and done” rule. The only woman that he had been with more than once since he’d been in Atlanta was Psychobilly Amber, and with Amber, there was an understanding. Hell, Amber generally kicked him out almost before the condom hit the bottom of the trash can.

  “Uh-huh.” She glanced at Tig and Charlotte, who were sitting on the other side of the table, Tig’s eyes bugged with apprehension and Charlotte’s slit with suspicion. Jacquie extended her hand to Tig. “Jacquelyn Case. Pleasure.”

  Tig gulped, and Charlotte took the woman’s hand. “Charlotte Markham. And this is my fiancé, Trevor.”

  Jacquie cast a simpering smile at Charlotte, and then she glanced at the empty seat and the obviously feminine jacket that draped it. “So, Dig, what do you say we get out of here?”

  “Oh, I’m slated for another song or two.”

  Jacquie stuck out her lip. “There’s karaoke every week, Dig.”

  “Nah, I’m going to hang around for a while.”

  “Who’s your little friend?” Dig heard Nanda’s husky, Jersey-accented voice ask.

  Fuck. Me.

  Dig winced inwardly. “Hey, Nanda. Um, this is Jacquie. She was just leaving.”

  Instead of returning to her seat, Nanda slipped between Dig and Jacquie and stuck her hand out. “Fernanda Maldonado.” She looked at Jacquie from head to toe. “Pleasure.”

  Jacquie visibly faltered in the face of Nanda’s ferocious glare. She stammered a good-bye and almost ran away from the table.

  Nanda snorted. “She seemed like a nice girl.” She walked around Dig’s chair, trailing her hand along his shoulder, and slipped back into her seat.

  Dig chuckled and took a sip of the glass of water that he had switched to after having four double shots from the bottle that Nanda seemed intent on finishing. Nanda clicked her tongue at him and made a finger gun, which made him laugh more.

  “Come here, Dig. Come closer to me.”

  Dig leaned in.

  “I think we should sing a duet sometime.”

  “Sure.”

  “Tonight, maybe?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m not sure you’re up for it.”

  “Oh, I’m up for it if you are.”

  Dig huffed a laugh. “Let’s see if there are any slots open. The list might be full.”

  Holy shit, what have you gotten yourself into, Dig?

  He halfway hoped that the karaoke host
ess would turn them down, as he had already performed once, but of course, that night, she didn’t.

  Dig grinned as he looked over the duet selections. He pointed at a song and turned and crooked his finger at Nanda, beckoning her to the stage.

  Nanda did a little dance in her seat before she hopped up and stumbled toward Dig.

  “Okay, people, Bubba there was going to be the last song for the night, but Dig here begged me for a duet, and you know I can’t say no to a duet. Let’s give it up for Dig and Nanda!”

  Nanda began by singing the line “Baby seems we never ever agree . . . ,” and Dig responded to her. They played off each other like they were longtime partners, intuitively touching and moving with one another while they crooned the lyrics. When the song was over, they stood looking at each other on the small stage until the karaoke hostess cleared her throat. Smiling sheepishly, Dig plucked the microphone out of Nanda’s hand and handed it back to the hostess.

  Nanda and Dig returned to their table, with Tig and Charlotte whooping and clapping.

  “Dang, sounds like someone else has pipes, woman.” Tig clicked his glass against the almost-empty bottle. He wiggled his eyebrows at Dig before turning to Charlotte. “And with that, I think we need to get going, baby. It’s going to be an early day tomorrow.”

  Charlotte nodded and gathered up her handbag.

  “I’m glad we got some girl time in, Charlotte,” Nanda said as Charlotte squeezed her in a hug and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “I am, too. We’ll have to do it again. You still up for a book club next week?”

  Tig snorted. “I think you mean a ‘boozy-snacky club,’ baby.”

  Charlotte bumped Tig with her hip. “He’s just jealous because I never let him get into the snacks before we meet.” She winked.

  Tig and Dig slapped hands, and then Charlotte and Tig left Foley’s. But before they went out the door, Charlotte turned and gave Nanda a little knowing grin, which made Nanda snort.

  “Okay, Miss Nanda, I think we need to get you home. You ready to go?”

  “Let me have one more drink.” Nanda closed one eye and poured the last of the bottle into two shot glasses and handed one to Dig. “To a surprisingly entertaining night.” She held the shot glass up.

  “Babe, I’m driving. I don’t need another shot. You don’t really either.”

  Nanda blew a raspberry and downed her shot. “If you don’t want yours, I’ll take it.” And she quickly drank the second.

  Dig chuckled. “Okay, now that that’s done, let’s go, okay?”

  Dig took her hand and helped her out of her chair. She stumbled against him. “Whoa.”

  He steadied her with a hand firmly on her lower back and her arm. Nanda looked up at him, eyelids hooded over her big dark eyes. Dig would have given his left nut to know what was going through that head of hers.

  “Dig . . .”

  “Yeah, Nanda?”

  She pursed her lips and closed one eye. “The better to see you with, my dear.” She snorted.

  Dig shook his head. “Come on, Drunky. Let’s get you home.” He steered her through the crowd to the front of the pub. Pierce was still sitting on a stool at his post, looking bored, when Dig maneuvered Nanda out the door.

  Nanda waved at Pierce. “Bye, Damon Pierce. I don’t think you’re as big of an ass as you want people to think you are.”

  Pierce huffed a laugh. “Darlin’, you don’t know what you’re talking about, but thanks.” He turned to Dig. “You okay to drive home?”

  Dig nodded.

  “Okay, then.” Pierce looked at something behind Dig. “I think you better get her home before she passes out.”

  Nanda had plopped down on a bench and was leaning back against the wall, nodding off.

  Dig shook his head and blew out a breath. “Yep, planning on doing that right now.”

  Pierce nodded and chuckled as Dig hauled Nanda to her feet and practically carried her to his car. He got her bundled inside and made his way back to her brother’s apartment.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Whoa, Nanda. Steady there.”

  Nanda leaned heavily against Dig as he punched in the code on the keypad that secured Junior’s apartment from the outside world.

  “Okay, girl, let’s get you settled.”

  Dig half supported, half carried her down the hallway. Good night, she’s drunk.

  “We need to be very quiet so we don’t wake people,” she whispered loudly.

  “That’s right. Be very quiet.”

  “Are we hunting wabbits?” Nanda stopped walking because she was bent over, laughing. “Wabbits.”

  “Good grief. Remind me not to let you get drunk ever again. Come on.” Dig tried to make her walk, but she actually sank to the floor, laughing and giggling and snorting.

  Dig huffed an irritated breath. “Come on, Nanda. Be a big girl and get up.”

  Nanda stopped laughing, and a thoughtful look crept over her face. “I was watching that little chippie from the stage, Dig. You don’t need girls like that. They’re no good for you. You need a woman.”

  Oh, holy fuck.

  Nanda was stretched out in the middle of the hallway, arms splayed above her head. Her shirt had risen up, exposing a strip of flat belly and . . . a bright floral tattoo.

  Dig blew out a breath. He squatted down beside her.

  “Nanda, baby, you need to get up. Nanda?” Dig stroked her hair from her forehead. “Nanda?”

  She snorted awake. “I’m up. I’m up.” She scrambled upright, and Dig helped her to her feet.

  “Wow. I’m really drunk, huh?”

  Dig chuckled. “Yeah, you are. Where are your keys?”

  “In my purse. Do you have it?”

  Dig groaned.

  “You must have left it at Foley’s.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, wishing that he’d paid attention when a buddy had tried to teach him to pick locks.

  “Whoops! They were in my pocket!” Nanda held up the keys triumphantly, emitting a snorting laugh.

  Thank God. “Come on, babe.”

  Nanda snickered. “Babe. ‘That’ll do, pig.’ ” More laughing.

  Dig chuckled and shook his head as he unlocked the apartment door.

  “You sit down here, okay?” Dig unceremoniously dumped her into a leather club chair. “I’m gonna get you a glass of water and see if I can find some ibuprofen. You’re going to hurt tomorrow; that’s for sure.”

  “There should be some ifuprotin, ibufoprin, ibu . . . stuff in the kitchen,” Nanda slurred.

  Dig took a deep breath and swung into the small galley kitchen. As he poured her a glass of water, he considered his options. He really didn’t want to leave her alone, being so drunk, but he didn’t necessarily want to stay either.

  “Okay, babe, here you go . . .” Dig’s voice trailed off at the sight of Nanda in the club chair, her legs thrown over the arm, that little strip of belly exposed once again, and undisguised heat in her gaze. He chuckled nervously. “Hey, Nanda.”

  “Hey.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t know how much I don’t want to say this, but I gotta go.”

  “Why? Isn’t this what you want?” Nanda leaned forward and pulled her T-shirt over her head. She leaned back once more and locked eyes with Dig. “Isn’t it?”

  Her bra was sheer, shimmery, showing large, dark areolas with nipples erect with arousal, one of which she traced with an index finger.

  Dig groaned. “Fuck me.”

  “I’m game, Dig.”

  Dig ran his hands over his hair. She was killing him.

  “Nanda, please. You are really drunk. I am going to go, okay?”

  Nanda sat up. “What the fuck? You’ve been flirting with me, begging me to get with you, and now, when I’m game, you say no? I didn’t figure you for the kind of man that only wanted someone until he had free access to them.”

  “What the fuck, Nanda? You�
�re so drunk you don’t even know what you’re saying. You just need to go to bed and sleep it off.”

  Nanda’s expression hardened, her eyes glittering with tears. She bolted from the chair and stumbled toward the door to her room, knocking into Dig.

  “Nanda, be reasonable.”

  She whirled around and shoved him. Dig looked at her in shock, so she shoved him again.

  “Nanda, you don’t get to shove me. No one gets to shove me unless I’m in the cage. I know you’re not thinking too clearly right now, so I’ll forget this ever happened, but you don’t do it again, ever.”

  Nanda’s nostrils flared, and Dig thought she just might charge him. He didn’t know what he was going to do if that happened. But she just stood there, the shining in her eyes finally giving way to tears.

  Her chin wobbled. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, almost too soft for him to hear, and disappeared into her bedroom.

  “Goddammit.”

  Dig stomped around Junior’s living room, trying to decide what to do. He could leave her alone because she was an adult and could take care of herself. On the other hand, she was really drunk, and he’d hate for her to hurt herself when he wasn’t around.

  Finally, he decided to stay, so he pulled off his shirt, shoes, and stupidly tight jeans and flopped down into the chair to stew about the scene before Nanda slammed the door of her bedroom. Why did she have to cry? He hated it when girls cried, because most of the time, at least in his experience, those tears were not genuine and were only used to manipulate.

  She infuriated him. Yes, he flirted with her, but she flirted right back, that sassy mouth of hers serving it back as quickly as Dig dished it out.

  God, he loved that mouth.

  And he was a pig, thinking about what she would look like with those rosy lips wrapped around his cock, when she was obviously upset. But was she upset because she was drunk? Or perhaps because she was sobering up and getting embarrassed about practically stripping and offering herself to him. Or was it something else completely?

  What he did know was that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and if she’d been sober, she would be riding his cock in this very chair.