Undefeated (Undefeated Series Books 1-4)

by Charity Parkerson

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “I thought you might need some help, since it looks like you’ll be stuck teaching this class a little while longer.”

  Parker peered into the bag asking, “Did you look at this book before you bought it?”

  “I was in a hurry, but I noticed self-defense in the title, so I figured it must have some useful information in there. Plus, as I was checking out, the guy behind the counter said I was making a good choice. Why?”

  “Oh, I bet,” Parker told him, before breaking into peals of laughter. Gulping for air, she managed to choke out. “It says…” Lying her head down on her desk, her shoulders shook. Holding up one finger asking him to wait, she finally managed to get herself under control. Hugging the book to her chest, she cleared her throat. “It says, 'Self-Defense: A Guide to Self-Pleasure, the Best Defense against Loneliness.'”

  Bryant shifted uncomfortably. “Well, um, that sounds more interesting than what I had in mind.”

  “It certainly does,” she agreed, drying her eyes.

  Smiling, he said, “I have another idea. Let’s go.”

  Bryant chose a private training room, locking the door behind them so they wouldn’t be disturbed. Parker had never been more thankful, since she was pretty sure she was about to get her ass handed to her.

  “Paul’s good but I’m better,” Bryant taunted. His face was set into harsh lines as he stalked her around the mat. The beauty of him left her temporarily distracted. Spotting his opening, he shot forward, locking her in his iron grip. “Break my hold!”

  She struggled against him, using all the techniques she had been teaching in her class, but he blocked her at every turn. “Break my hold!” He yelled again.

  “I’m trying,” she panted.

  “No. You’re not. You’re struggling. There’s a difference. Drop your weight and use it against me.”

  She did as he told her, and to her surprise, it unbalanced him. Seeing her chance, she attacked, but she pulled her punches not wanting to hurt him. He took advantage of her weakness, sweeping her feet from underneath her, and knocking her to the floor. He followed her down, pinning her beneath his body. “You can’t hold back. You have to strike hard.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you,” she admitted

  Bryant looked incredulous. “Are you joking? I trained all these guys. I can take a hit better than anyone.”

  “Sorry,” she flushed, “let’s try it again.”

  Pulling her to her feet, they faced off again, but the results were the same. In no time at all, Bryant pinned her to the mat. She took some pride in the fact that he was at least breathing hard. Brushing a finger over her split lip, he told her, “You have to catch me off guard, unbalance me. I don’t ever want to see you get hit like that again.”

  “You’re worried about me?” she asked, surprised.

  “Hell, yes, I’m worried about you. You’ve got more balls than half the men here.”

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she crooned.

  “It’s not a compliment. Again,” he ordered, pulling her to her feet once more.

  Squaring off, they circled one another, looking for each other's weaknesses. Parker tossed out a quick punch, but Bryant snagged her fist before it made contact. With a slight tug, he pulled her against him wrapping an arm around her waist, and holding her captive there. Instead of fighting his hold, she sank into him, wrapping her body around his, and then capturing his lips with hers before he could guess her intent. Loosening his hold, he ran both hands up her back, burying them in her hair. He tugged, tilting her head so he could deepen the kiss. She traced the ridges of his taut muscles, savoring the flavor that was wholly Bryant. She allowed herself a moment simply to enjoy him, before hooking her leg in his and shoving hard. Parker stood laughing triumphantly over Bryant. He smiled with mock innocence as he snagged her ankle, bringing her down with him.

  “Sore loser,” she accused.

  “Cheater,” he shot back.

  Side by side, they both tried to catch their breath. They reached for each other at the same time, joining hands. Together they stared at the ceiling, uncaring of the passage of time. It could have been an hour or perhaps as little as a few minutes later, when Bryant broke the silence by asking, “Do you have plans for this weekend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Too bad,” Bryant said, sounding disappointed.

  “Yep. Too bad.” She knew she should probably tell him that their plans were the same, but he’d figure it out soon enough. For now, she’d simply enjoy besting him in something. Even if it was only in her ability to catch him off guard.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Fourth of July weekend Chattanooga, Tennessee

  The drive to Chattanooga from Murfreesboro took only about an hour and a half, but Bryant got a late start. His family was having a weekend get together that started on Friday and would run through Sunday. Unfortunately, he was unable to leave out until early Saturday morning, since he had a Friday night fight. Riding high on an adrenaline rush from his win, he set out immediately from the fight, which ended at two a.m. At three thirty when he got into town, he went to a hotel instead of putting his mom out trying to find a way to fit him in to the house.

  Just as he started to run his keycard across the door, he heard a loud feminine squeal. Spinning, he found himself face to face with Walt and Parker’s bikini clad ass, where it was slung over Walt’s shoulder. At Walt’s sudden stop, Parker lifted herself up enough to see why they stopped. At the sight of Bryant, her face flushed red as she stuttered her hellos. His two other brothers came skidding around the corner armed with water guns. Walt jumped as a cold stream of water shot across his back. Taking off again, Parker waved over Walt’s shoulder before shooting her own gun back at his younger brothers. Then with a wicked smile, she shot him in the leg soaking his pants. Bryant looked down, saying, “Oh. Hell. No.” Opening his room door, he threw his bags in, and then took off in pursuit of his prey. He found them at the hotel pool in an all-out war of water guns and dunking. Parker pulled herself out, collapsing at the edge of the pool, and raising an arm in surrender, she called. “I’m out, boys.”

  Bryant buried his hands in his pockets, moving to stand over Parker. Her scantily clad body allowed him to see the scars that were left behind from saving his brother. Even though they in no way took away from her beauty, he was still surprised by her. Any other woman would do anything to keep them hidden, but not his Parker. She wore them proudly just as she should.

  “I thought you had plans this weekend,” he told her.

  “I do. Walt invited me two weeks ago,” she answered, holding out two fingers in the air above her body.

  “Are you having fun?” he asked, with a sneaking suspicion about how much fun she was having.

  Nodding her head, she answered, “Your mom said, 'Have you ever tasted a jell-o shot?' I said, 'No, but it sounds delightful,' and she said, 'Well, then you have to try one.' So I did, and you know what?”

  “What?” Bryant asked, smiling at her obvious inebriation.

  “It was great. You know what else?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “I had a second one, and it was even better,” she answered, her voice rising with each word.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t stop at two,” he observed.

  “Nope,” she answered, spreading her arms out wide beside her she added, “I had this much.”

  “All of that huh?” he asked, smothering a laugh.

  “Yep. Did you know that you have the most beautiful eyes I‘ve ever seen on a man?” she asked, squinting up at him.

  Bending, he scooped her up into his arms. “Come on. Which room is yours?”

  Parker wrapped her arms around his neck, peering around them as if just seeing the hotel for the first time. Giving up, she threw her head back, and yelled, “Walt! What room are we in?”

  “Thirty-six,” Walt replied from behind them.

  �
�You’re sharing a room with Walt?” Bryant asked, incredulous.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she answered, “It has two beds, and it was cheaper that way.”

  “Like hell,” was all the response he could drum up. There was no way he was allowing her to stay with any other man, even his own brother.

  Carrying her like a child, he started back towards his room, nodding at Walt as he passed by. Walt lifted his beer, letting him know he saw them.

  When Bryant opened the door to his room, the cold air hit her skin reminding her of a very important fact. “I don’t have any clothes.”

  He glanced around the room as if noticing she was right. “Can you stand?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she answered immediately. Bryant set her carefully on her feet, keeping one hand on her arm until he was convinced she was steady. Reaching a hand over his shoulders pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion he said, “You can put this on until I can get your bags.”

  Parker stared transfixed at his bare torso. Lust and alcohol pooled together to create a boldness that usually escaped her. Under his watchful eyes, she tugged lightly at the strings that held her bikini in place causing it to fall to the floor. A muscle twitched in his chest as if he were physically holding himself back. Bryant groaned aloud. “Lord, I’d better get into heaven after this.” Taking the shirt he’d been wearing, he placed it over her head dressing her like a child. The sting of rejection caused tears to prick at the back of her eyes. Bryant brushed her hair back from her face. “Don’t look like that. It breaks my heart.” Dipping his head, he placed a light kiss against her lips. Unable to keep from deepening the kiss she nipped lightly at his bottom lip. Bryant stroked a hand down her back, and cupping her ass, he hauled her against him, allowing her to feel his desire for her. Speaking against her skin, he told her, “When you come to my bed I want you sober so you don’t miss a thing.”

  Suddenly Parker didn’t want to miss a thing either.

  Cameron and Chantel Smith married forty-two years earlier, during a time that a white man and a black woman were an oddity. In spite of that, their love held them through good times and bad. Together they produced four sons that were gorgeous on their own, but when combined they could stop traffic. At thirty-eight, Bryant was the oldest. Ronald was next in line at thirty-two, with Walt coming in third at thirty. Zach was a baby of twenty-five.

  Once a year, they held these family weekends, in hopes of bringing everyone together at the same time. It wasn’t always possible, since their various career choices sometimes kept them away. This was Parker’s second such weekend. The first was shortly after she and Walt were shipped home half dead. Bryant hadn’t been able to make it since he was involved in an international fight that he couldn’t miss due to contractual obligations, but she bonded quickly with the rest of the Smith family. It was worth the trip just for the food alone.

  While she was enjoying that food, Chantel asked in a hopeful voice, “When are you and Walt getting married?”

  Parker froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. She was saved by Walt. “We are not getting married, Mama. You know we’re just friends,” he said, on a sigh reserved only for mothers.

  “A mother can dream,” she told him, her face falling in disappointment, before lighting back up. “I have three other sons. I’m not giving up on having you as part of the family just yet.”

  Parker could feel the stares of the other men in the room as they sized her up, and a flush crept up her face. She continued eating while trying not to make eye contact with any of them. Zack broke in, saying, “She’s already part of the family.”

  Chantel blew out a breath. “I know that. I just want it to be all official so she can’t get away.”

  Parker looked up, catching Bryant’s eye for the first time. A small smile played on his lips, as if he were enjoying her discomfort. Holding Bryant’s gaze, Parker directed her words at Chantel. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chantel looked back and forth between Parker and Bryant, saying, “No, I don’t guess you are.”

  Slamming his hand on the table, Cameron broke the spell. “Now, who wants jell-o?” he asked, causing a round of loud groans to sound around the table.

  Bryant was watching Parker again. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite past times. Memories of the night before kept creeping into his mind. If she were anyone else, he would have jumped at the chance she was offering, but this one was special. It was also complicated. She was a part of this family. She earned her way in by doing something no mother, father, or brother could ever forget or repay. The scariest part was that she was special to him for another reason as well. Sensing movement beside him, he turned to find his mother dragging a chair over to sit with him. Bryant jumped up, towing the chair for her. Once he got her settled, he sat back down beside her, his eyes automatically searching out Parker. Chantel followed his gaze and a laugh burst from her chest. Parker was playing football with the other men. All but Walt were seriously underestimating her ability to tackle. Ronald went down hard, but not because Parker laid a hand on him. Instead, he tripped, distracted by her legs.

  “What’s going on between you and Parker?”

  Bryant dropped his head back, groaning aloud at his mother’s question. “Nothing mom,” he chanted.

  “I’m not a fool. I can see the way you look at her. I just don’t want to see her get hurt.”

  “It’s only been an hour since you were offering her up to all takers, and besides, why is everyone so convinced I’m going to hurt her?” he asked, offended.

  “Nobody thinks that. It’s just that Parker deserves a man who loves her, especially after that husband of hers,” she told him.

  “The drunk?” he asked.

  “The mean drunk,” she answered solemnly.

  Bryant felt his fist clench in anger. “He hit her?” he asked, keeping his temper held tightly in check. Even knowing that he was already dead didn’t lessen Bryant’s anger.

  “Only once from what I understand. Then he got tired of sleeping with one eye open and started sleeping with other women. He wasn’t always a bad husband, but that was before,” Chantel trailed off staring at something only she could see. Shaking herself, she continued. “Never mind. That’s not my story to tell. Despite everything, we’re talking about a man she loved enough to marry. Then he went and got himself killed in the most embarrassing way for her. That’s too many betrayals to have to endure from one person, but it was the least of her losses. So, I think it’s her turn. She needs someone who wants to give her the world. If that’s not you, then you should leave her alone. I myself think one of these days Walt will realize she is more than a friend to him and scoop her up.”

  “I’m that man; she belongs to me,” Bryant‘s mind roared, but his mom managed to plant a different seed of doubt. What if Walt really did love her and just hadn‘t fully realized it yet? They did seem to be inseparable, but he couldn’t see Parker kissing him the way she had if she had those kinds of feelings for Walt. As he watched, Parker said something to Walt that caused him to roar in laughter. A spike of unwanted jealously shot through him. Damn it, he was going to have to find out the truth for himself.

  The game started to break up as the players wandered off in pursuit of other activities. Spotting Bryant and Chantel, Parker moved to join them. Seeing her approach, Chantel stood, offering Parker her seat. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she said, patting the cushion. “I offer up my oldest son first, since he’s not getting any younger.”

  Favoring Chantel with an affectionate smile, Parker said, “Busybody.”

  “Tomboy,” Chantel shot back, making it sound as if it were the most loving compliment, before wandering off leaving them alone.

  They both started to speak at the same time, but Walt interrupted them. Snagging a chair with his foot, he dragged it over to Parker’s other side. He leaned across her, asking Bryant, “How did your fight go last night?”

  “You fought last night? Did you win?” P
arker asked.

  “Of course,” he answered smoothly.

  “Is it okay if Parker catches a ride back to the hotel with you?” Walt asked Bryant.

  Bryant searched Walt’s features for any signs of possessiveness, and finding none, he answered, “No problem,” then to Parker he asked, “Are you ready then?”

  Parker was quick to agree. “Yes. I’m in desperate need of a shower.”

  It took them more than twenty minutes to make it through all the goodbyes. Once they were on the road, Parker asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about your fight? I could have come to see you.”

  “What, and miss all this?” he asked, smothering a laugh.

  “I could have come late the same way you did,” she told him, aggravated.

  “You would have missed spending some time with Walt,” he threw out casually.

  Parker shrugged. “I see Walt all the time, but I’ve never seen you fight.”

  “I fight all the time. You can come to the next match,” he offered, and then fishing for more information, he asked, “Are you upset about Walt pawning you off on me?”

  “Why would I be? I’m the one that suggested it,” she asked, confused, and then a light seemed to dawn. “Oh, you think that we...” she broke off then tried again. “You think that he and I are sleeping together?”

  Once she said it aloud, he realized how ridiculous he was being. He allowed his own desire for her to cloud his judgment. Just hours earlier, he listened to Walt tell his mother that they were only friends. No man in his right mind would deny being with her. “I’m sorry,” he told her, meaning it.