I roll my eyes, too tired to fight him. “I was hoping Rick would have been knocked out by now,” I say, changing the subject.
“I get the feeling Lillian would much rather drag this feud out,” he says. “The crowd is getting larger with every fight…”
“But the fights are chosen at random,” I say.
“Are they?” he grins, then immediately hisses from fresh pain as I move on to another set of scratches. “No, she’d never risk losing those numbers by taking either of us out too soon. It’ll be him versus me in the end, she’ll make sure of that.”
“I hate this,” I mutter. I press a fresh, white bandage against a very stubborn scratch. “Hold on to this...”
Tobias lays his hands against his ribs and presses the bandage hard against it, flexing his jaw. “No, you don’t,” he says. “Admit it.”
“I don’t enjoy watching you get hurt, Tobias,” I whisper, wiping blood off my fingers with a moist towel.
“No…” he says, “but you enjoy watching me win.”
I sigh. “I’m not exactly proud of it.”
“Claire…” He leans forward, pushing his hand against his wound a little harder. “It’s all right. I knew what I was getting into here…” My eyes fall from his and I shift my focus back to his wounds. “Did you see anything tonight?”
I pause. “Nothing suspicious,” I say. “But Rick did say something…”
“You talked to Rick?” he asks quickly. “When?”
“Just before his fight…” I say. I flash a smile, unable to contain my real feelings on the subject. “Apparently, my mother took off.”
“She did? To where?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I haven’t heard from her, but Rick was convinced I knew something…”
“Do you know where she’d go?” he asks.
“No,” I answer. “We don’t exactly have much family, never did. I was going to try and call her, but…”
He shifts slightly. “But what?”
“If she wanted me to know, she would have called me herself.”
Tobias reaches for my hand. “She will,” he says. “I’m sure she’s just waiting until things calm down.”
I nod. “I hope you’re right.”
He lies back against his headboard, his hands shaking with adrenaline still locked away in his system. “Anything else?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
“No sign of Pike in the crowd?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Tobias,” I say, leaning forward. “I’m sure.” He falls silent again. I touch his hand, still pressed against his broken skin. “Let me see…” He drops his fingers and I pull the bandage away to inspect the wound. “Looks like it stopped bleeding… finally…”
“Good,” he breathes.
I grab a cotton ball, fresh and white from the package. “This’ll sting a little…”
Tobias sits still with his eyes shut tight as I soak the wound with alcohol. “Claire…”
“What?” I ask, pulling back.
“When you watch Rick fight…” he pauses, “do you feel the same way about him as you do about me?”
I furrow my brow, confused by his question. “What? No, Tobias. Why would you even think that?”
“I watched you watching him tonight,” he says.
“It’s my job to watch him.”
“You looked scared,” he notes. “Like you didn’t want him to get hurt.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“He was your first love, Claire.”
My jaw sags open as words get stuck on the tip of my tongue. “Tobias, I…” I stutter. “Do you really think, after everything he’s done, that I’m even capable of feeling anything like that for him ever again?”
“I hope not,” he answers truthfully.
“Wrong answer.” I push myself off the bed.
“Claire—” He bends forward, straining his roughed up body, and reaches out to grab my wrist. “I’m sorry—”
“You fucking better be—”
“But you can’t blame me for worrying…”
I pull my wrist free of his fingers. “I’m not sitting at his bed right now, Tobias. I’m not nursing his wounds right now.”
“I know—”
“Then why would you even ask?”
“Say it once and I’ll never bring it up again,” he says. “Tell me you don’t love him anymore.”
“I don’t love him anymore,” I say it quickly, firmly, without an ounce of hesitation in my voice.
He exhales. “Thank you,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head and let my feet take me away from his bed to wander the room quietly. He’s not wrong; I can’t blame him for worrying, but those feelings for Rick are long gone. I just wish everyone else around me believed it as much as I do. Lillian. Amy. And now, Tobias is asking questions. “I’ve given you every piece of me, Tobias,” I say. “Everything.”
“And if you two hadn’t of been caught that night, you would have given him just as much.”
My heart sinks. “That’s not fair,” I say. “I was a completely different person then.”
“I know,” he whispers. “But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s still something there between you two.”
I turn to him. “The only thing I feel for him is pity, Tobias. I pity him.”
“Why?”
“Because he had to demand love from me,” I answer. “You don’t.” He looks down. “I should get to bed.”
“Claire…” He shifts around and plants his feet on the floor.
“Goodnight, Tobias.”
He stands up quickly, his face contorted in pain, and stops me before I can reach the door. “Stop, stop…” he whispers, laying his forehead against mine. “I trust you.”
“You should,” I say. My eyes fall to his right side, where fresh blood has stained his skin. “Tobias, you’re bleeding again…” I scold.
“Let it bleed,” he says, cupping my cheeks. He kisses me softly, lulling me back in with the subtle flicks of his tongue. “I’ll never bring it up again.”
“Promise?” I ask, my lips pressed against his.
“I promise,” he repeats before pushing me back against his door.
I offer my lips to him again. His body quivers against mine, tired but fueled by the adrenaline refusing to let him go. “Tobias—” I whisper, raising my hands to grip his wrists. I slowly pull his hands down. “You should rest—”
“I can’t,” he says, our lips still touching, “even if I tried.”
“Well, we can’t…” I place my palms against his chest to guide him back. “Not here. Not now.”
He deflates, but takes a slow step back. I slip away from him and walk back to the bed to grab a bandage to wipe the new blood trails off his side. I turn back around to find him smiling at me. “What?” I ask.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says. “I don’t think I ever said it before.”
“You haven’t,” I say, “but I’ve always known you thought so.” I step towards him and hand him the bandage. “You should get some rest.”
I don’t let him argue with me again. I grab the door knob and turn it softly, careful not to make more noise than necessary as I pull it open.
Chapter 11
A Fair Fight
I tap my finger on the table. “Come on, Mom…” I whisper to myself, listening to the same ringing sound looping over and over again against my ear. One more ring and I’ll hear her voice, but it’ll be a recording.
“Hello, this is Tara Eastwood. Leave me a message and I’ll—”
I hang up and toss the phone down onto the kitchen table. My heart hurts, my head aches. It’s been days and I still can’t get a hold of my mother and she hasn’t tried to contact me. I lean forward and lie my head against my folded arms, frustration brewing inside of me.
“Bit early for phone calls, isn’t it?”
I look up as Char
lie steps into the kitchen. He heads straight for the coffee maker for his first cup of morning coffee, while I sit here working on my third. “Maybe,” I say.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I answer, a bit too quickly.
He chuckles softly. “Claire, it’s five-thirty in the morning and you’ve already emptied the coffee pot. What’s going on?”
I hesitate, but I really shouldn’t. Charlie’s the most trustworthy person I’ve ever met. And yet, fear holds my tongue, scared that I might say too much. “My mother is missing…” I finally say.
“Missing?” he asks. He sits down across from me with his coffee mug.
“It’s been a few days,” I say. “She packed a bag and took off. I’ve been calling her, but she won’t answer.”
“How do you know this?” he asks.
“Rick,” I answer without thinking.
“You’re talking to Rick again?”
I pause, biting my tongue. My mind jolts, revved up by too much caffeine. “No — not exactly. He called me,” I lie. “He asked if I knew where she was.”
Charlie nods. “Well, I’m sure she’ll turn up.”
It’s standard, non-committal. Not very comforting either, but I don’t blame him for saying it. “It’s just…” I shake my head. “I thought we were doing so well. We were getting closer, but now…”
“Claire, I’ve known a lot of women in her situation,” he says. “The first thing I tell them is to keep their heads down until they know for sure that they’re safe.”
“So, basically…” I chuckle. “My mother doesn’t trust me.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“What would you say then?”
“I’d say that patience is a virtue and that she’ll contact you when she’s ready to contact you.”
I sigh. “Great… so now I just have to sit here and wait until she decides she wants to talk to me.”
“And I recall…” he grins at me, “a young woman — about a year ago — that didn’t want to talk to anybody.”
I pause. “Charlie…”
“She pouted and whined and did anything she could to avoid her problems.”
“I get it, Charlie.”
“She came around, eventually.”
I smile. “Thank you, Charlie.”
“You’re welcome,” he says. “Now, go milk my cows.”
I laugh and pour the rest of my coffee down my throat. He’s right. My mother is probably fine. The fact that Rick asked me about it just proves that they don’t know where she is and that she’s somewhere safe and secure. But that was days ago. Anything can happen in a few short days, things that I don’t even want to think about.
I throw myself into chores to try and distract myself, but the silence around me is far too loud.
***
A roar of thunder crackles overhead as we pass into the Springfield city limits. Amy flicks on the windshield wipers, anticipating the coming flurry of raindrops starting to tap against the glass.
“So…” she says, glancing into the rear view mirror. “You nervous, Toby?”
I keep my eyes forward, watching the road turn a shiny black from fresh rain. I already know what his answer will be before he even says it.
“No,” he says.
I know he’s lying. I know that as we inch closer and closer to the next fight, the weight on him grows even heavier. It’s weighing on me as well, wondering with every breathe I take whether or not it’s his last night in the tournament and if Rick will step forward to claim me. Tobias told me that he wouldn’t let that happen, but I still fear it.
“That’s good to hear,” Amy says, pushing the gas and changing lanes. “You have no reason to be nervous anyway. You’ve got this.”
Again, I say nothing. There’s only three fighters left in the tournament: Tobias, Rick, and a fighter from Springfield named Scott the Sinister. It’s the last elimination before the final tournament fight that determines the Alpha, which means that only two will fight tonight and the other will sit the night out. It’s fairly obvious that one of tonight’s fighters will be Scott. I don’t care how random the fights are determined; there’s no way Lillian will let Tobias and Rick have it out just yet. She wants the crowd as impatient and bloodthirsty as possible for that and the only way to ensure that is to drag it out until the final night.
Scott is a talented fighter. It’s entirely possible that he could take out Tobias or Rick tonight. Part of me wants him to. Then all of this will be over with and I can finally get a decent night’s rest free from worry — or not, depending on the outcome, of course.
The Springfield arena is located just outside of the downtown area in a spot more populated than I would have assumed. I guess the local law enforcement are easily swayed here or they just don’t care, neither of which would surprise me.
Amy parks the car and I step outside onto the damp parking lot. Drops of rain spill down from the black sky above. Everything smells dirty and wet, mixing with the humid summer air. Nausea churns in my gut, worse than it ever has before. Tobias comes up behind me and holds his jacket over my head until we reach the inside.
The building lies abandoned, overrun by nature, but looks no worse than any other structure around it. Strangely, it’s only about a block away from a shopping center, one that looks fairly new and well-kept. I suppose this contradiction counts as Springfield’s unique brand of quirkiness.
Amy leads us inside where we’re immediately greeted by Kimi. She carries a pair of nervous brown eyes in her head, her arms crossed tightly around her.
“Oh, thank god, someone else is here…” she whispers as she sees us.
“What’s going on?” Amy asks her.
“Heather and I arrived about an hour ago,” she begins, glancing over her shoulder. I look around her to find the same kind of make-shift arena we have back home, only this one doesn’t look nearly as rusty. “They were waiting for us.”
“Who?” Amy asks.
“Double Ex Kings,” she mutters.
Tobias steps forward and scans the empty room. “Where?” he asks.
“Heather went with them, into the back,” she says. “Told me to stay put.”
“Did you call Lillian?” I ask her.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “She told me not to.”
“Why?”
Kimi lowers her eyes to the floor. “She didn’t say…”
Tobias steps deeper into the room, but quickly doubles back to us. “Go back outside,” he tells us. “Call Lillian — tell her to alert all fighters in the area.”
“Wait—” I say. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get Heather,” he says.
I let the girls pass around me. “Tobias—”
He places his hands on my shoulders. “Go with them, Claire.”
“No.”
“Claire—” He lowers his voice. “Keep them calm.”
I study his eyes. Tobias stares back at me, unblinking, completely confident in my abilities. “Okay,” I say.
He kisses my forehead. “Go,” he whispers. He slips away from me and travels across the room with a determined stride. I watch him disappear into the darkness, the back room door closing silently behind him.
“Let’s go,” I say, drawing Amy and Kimi outside with me. I keep my eyes peeled, constantly on the move for suspicious characters around me. The sun has long set and the late-night crowd travels the sidewalks by foot, their laughter and voices carrying softly on the wind and rain as they move fast to seek shelter.
Amy pushes her back against the wall of the building to keep out of the storm as she speaks quietly into her cell phone. “No, ma’am,” she says.
I pause, focusing my hearing to try and listen in on the conversation, but I hear nothing but the soft hum of Lillian’s voice. My ears peak as a loud scuffle forces my attentions around the side of the building.
“Stay here,” I say to Kimi. She nods, her eyes telli
ng me that she’ll easily obey the instruction. I walk quickly, my shoes completely soaked through from puddles in the uneven concrete, ignoring the discomfort it brings.
I round the corner and jolt to a hard stop as Heather bashes in to me. She falls into my arms, shaking scared, and my eyes fall to the red gash above her eye. “Where’s Tobias?” I ask her.
Rainwater washes blood down her dark face. “He pulled them off of me,” she says. “He told me to run—”
The familiar sound of fist against flesh fills my ears and I jump into a sprint to follow the noise. “Tobias!” I scream his name as he comes into view near the back exit. He’s outnumbered, standing between two large men in black leather jackets in front of a row of rusted dumpsters.
“Whoa, whoa—” A third man hops between us, all too eager to get his wet hands on me. I shove him away, knocking his brown hair loose from a blue bandanna wrapped tightly around his head. It falls to his face and clings to his damp skin. He laughs off my intimidation with grinning lips. “That wasn’t very nice,” he chuckles.
“Back off,” I seethe, my eyes targeting around his shoulders to find Tobias down the alleyway, still sandwiched between the men that look all too eager to harm him.
“Let me guess…” he says, refusing to budge. He jets his hands out and grips my arms. “You’re a Dame?”
“Get your hands off me or you’ll find out the hard way,” I warn.
He laughs even louder. “Last I checked, your boy was a little busy,” he says with a quick nod behind him. “There’s no one here to help you.”
My fingers roll into fists, subtlety gripping the front of his shirt. “Wrong,” I say. I yank him forward and ram my knee into his groin. He releases my arms and doubles over as he screams in pain. I slide my arm back and angle myself to deliver a swift uppercut to his jaw, catching the edge of his tooth against my knuckle. I wince at the pain, feeling it charge up my arm like lightning as he tumbles to the ground. His hands grip his junk as he writhes silently in the rainwater beneath us.
“Tobias!” I scream again and race towards the back.
“Claire, stop!” He holds up his hand and I halt quickly, realizing that I’ve jumped into a conflict I probably shouldn’t have. The two men standing in front of him give me nothing more than a cursory glance over their shoulders. The one to Tobias’ right is short, not much taller than myself, but his frightening muscles bulge out of his wet shirt.
UNBROKEN: A Bad Boy MMA Romance (Midwest Alphas) (Book 2) Page 12