Layers of Her

by Prescott Lane

  It’s not Campbell, but it’s the next best thing—her friend Jenny. “Sorry,” she says over and over again. She knows how I usually am about starting class on time. Giving her a smile that it’s alright, I motion for her to wait a second before joining us. While the other women pick sparring partners, I walk over to Jenny.

  Jenny is the complete opposite of Campbell in terms of physical appearance—short, dark hair, big boobs. It’s obvious why Campbell likes her. She is one hundred percent sweet. I swear, the girl is made from raw sugar. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to get her to find her inner bitch for the past several months. Hell, if Jenny were being mugged, she’d probably offer her attacker a hug and congratulate him on a job well done.

  “I’m so sorry I was late. There was this homeless man with a puppy, and I didn’t have any money or anything, so I went through the drive-thru and . . .”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “Is Campbell with you?”

  “Afraid not,” Jenny says.

  I wonder how much, if anything, Campbell told Jenny, but that’s not my objective here. “She alright?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “For one, she was carrying a gun,” I say.

  Jenny releases a deep breath and shivers. “Hate that thing. She told me you caught her with it and threw it in the river. Good one!”

  “She tell you anything else?” I ask.

  Jenny shakes her head. “When Campbell gets like this, she doesn’t talk much.”

  “Gets like what?”

  “Dark and depressed,” she says softly.

  “She get this way a lot?” I ask.

  “I haven’t seen her like this in a long time. She didn’t even go into work today. She’s just at home, locked in her bedroom.”

  My reentry into the cage is in less than two weeks, and I told Jade I was training tonight so she’d watch Tate a little longer. If I don’t want to get killed, I should probably follow through with said training. Who the hell am I kidding? Screw it!

  “Can I join the class now?” Jenny asks.

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  But I’ve got no plans to join the class tonight. Getting one of my guys to take over for me, I grab my keys. Dark and depressed isn’t going to last one second longer than it has to. And if she insists on crying, yelling, eating ice cream, or whatever the hell else women do when they’re sad, then she’s going to do it with me, whether she likes it or not.

  *

  The Marigny is an area of New Orleans just a few minutes from the French Quarter. Neighborhoods in New Orleans tend to have personalities. Some are known for old money, others new money, some are family-centered, and some are more hip and trendy. The Marigny is the latter. With the Mississippi River a stone’s throw away, this part of town is a favorite for anyone looking for authentic New Orleans food, music, or art.

  Campbell’s house is typical for the area, a classic Creole cottage with huge windows in the front and painted a bright blue. All the houses in this area are painted off the wall colors, like someone had the big box of crayons and just went crazy.

  The house had been converted into a duplex. I know Jenny lives on one side and Campbell the other. The only problem is, I’m not sure which side is which. So I do what any good stalker would do and go through the mailbox. Bingo! Her car is still here, too, so she must be home.

  But that’s as far as my stalking is going to go. I may be a fighter, rough around the edges, and raised in the poor side of town, but I can still be a gentleman, and gentlemen knock on the door. They don’t barge in. So I knock, and a few minutes later, I knock again. Then the knocking turns to banging. Then the banging turns to pounding. And before long, I’m threatening to rip the door from its hinges if she doesn’t open up. Even a gentleman has his limits.

  “Campbell,” I call out again, but this time I hear a shuffling inside, followed by the quiet click of the lock unlatching. When the door doesn’t open, I turn the knob and push the door open. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside, but I eventually make out Campbell wrapping herself back up in a blanket on her sofa.

  Her house is the typical New Orleans shotgun style. Basically, the house is designed so you could stand at the front door and shoot a bullet out the back door. The irony that she lives in a shotgun house, and I caught her carrying a gun is not lost on me.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, kneeling down in front of her. This is a side of her I’ve never seen before. I’d seen her scared, but never like this. All I want to do is hold her in my arms and make whatever it is better.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispers.

  “Where should I be?”

  “With Tate.”

  “Tate’s with Jade. She’s fine,” I say.

  “Then you should be training for your fight,” she says.

  Fuck me silly, she remembered. Never had a woman pull for me during a fight, just hordes of screaming groupies. “You gonna come cheer me on?”

  “If you want.”

  “You gonna take care of me after?”

  “Are you flirting with me?” she asks.

  “Yep.”

  “Well, stop it. I told you to stay away from me. I’m a bad person.”

  “What have you ever done that is bad?” She doesn’t answer. “You work with sick infants all day long, for God’s sake. How bad can you be?”

  “Some people just are. It runs through their blood. They’re just damaged beyond repair.”

  “You’re not,” I say.

  “You know why I had that gun?” she asks, leaping up off the sofa. I shake my head, hoping she’s finally going to tell me what’s going on with her. “To kill someone. You and Tate don’t need to be around me.”

  I should be more freaked out by that, but I’m not. I’ve seen what she can do in a fight, but I’ve also seen her with my daughter and offering her hand to help up her opponent. When she fights, there’s a shift in her, like a switch is flipped, and just as quickly it goes off. It’s more like she’s playing the part of the badass, rather than that being who she really is. “Who do you want to kill?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she says.

  “How long have you had that gun?”

  “Six months or so.”

  “Then why isn’t he dead already?” I ask.

  “Because I . . .”

  She’s trembling and pacing, and I’m sure she hasn’t slept or eaten in days. But I’m also sure she’s not a bad person. It’s obvious there’s a war going on inside her, and everyone knows the toughest opponent to face is yourself. “Everyone has wished someone dead at one time or another,” I say.

  “Does everyone follow him every Thursday night and wait for their chance?”

  “You follow him?” I ask, and she nods slowly. “Campbell, promise me you won’t do that again.”

  “No.”

  My voice gets harder, louder. “Promise me right now!”

  “No.”

  “You’re going to get yourself killed.” She doesn’t say a word. It’s like she doesn’t care. “Or is that part of the plan? Taking yourself out, too!”

  A few silent tears fall off her cheeks, and I know, at the very least, she’s thought about it. “No, I’ve got too much to atone for,” she says.

  “Come here,” I say, pulling her down beside me on the couch. I swear to God, crazy women are the story of my life. “This man hurts women?” It’s just a hunch, but a good one. I’ve seen my share of domestic violence victims in my gym, in my own life. Sometimes I think, rather than teach these women to fight, I should just take names and kick ass.

  “Yes.”

  I’m not going to ask if he hurt her. She’ll tell me when she’s ready. Besides, whether he hurt her or someone she cared about doesn’t matter. The fucker will pay for it as soon as Campbell tells me his name. It might not be today or tomorrow or next week, but one day, that mother will bleed. Propping my feet up on her table, I settle her head down on my shoulder and drape her legs ac
ross my lap.

  “Stone,” she says, lifting her head. “Have you seen Angel again?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Why?”

  “Think you know why, babe,” I say, hoping she’ll let it go, but her eyes beg me for more. “Because of damn feelings, okay?” She smiles, and my heart thumps loudly, not used to any of this.

  “Well, as long as they’re damn feelings and not just regular ole feelings,” she teases.

  Her butt earns a firm smack for that wiseass remark. She smiles and cuddles back into me. “No one’s held me like this before,” she whispers.

  “And no one but me ever will.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  STONE

  “Campbell, you awake?” I whisper, moving her hair back from her face. She’s been cuddled on my lap for I don’t know how long. And while I’d love to stay like this the rest of the night, I’m a dad, and dads don’t get sleepovers.

  She lifts her head, her face mere inches from mine. “He deserves to die, and I’m still going to kill him.”

  There is no doubt in my mind that this man deserves a fate worse than death, but there’s no way Campbell’s going to mete it out. I’ve never taken a life, but I know what it’s like to pound a man, to have his blood on your hands, to feel his body weaken underneath your fists. No way in hell will I let Campbell know what it’s like to dream about that at night. But I’m not going to argue with her right now. A good fighter knows when to hold back and when to strike. Besides, I know killing him won’t make her feel any better.

  Darkness can’t be cured by darkness—only light. Tate taught me that, and now we are going to show Campbell.

  Shifting her weight so she is straddling me on the sofa, I place my hands on her hips, my eyes locked on hers. “I’m sorry about Angel.” Most of the guys I know won’t say they’re sorry to save their lives. God knows, none of the assholes my mother brought into our house ever did, so when I’m wrong, I admit it. And when I hurt someone, I apologize, which is what I’m doing now. That doesn’t make me any less of a man. Her head turns down, like she doesn’t want to think about it. “Don’t fight this,” I say, pulling her closer.

  “I’ve been fighting so long,” she says. “It’s like I don’t know how to stop.”

  “I know, baby. God, I know.” My hand slides up the side of her neck. “But not this. This we don’t fight, okay?” Slowly, she inches closer then hesitates, but only for a second. When her lips softly land on mine, I’ve got my answer.

  And this time, it’s not frantic, but slow. Sometimes sex can be like a fight, a struggle for control, for dominance. But this, this is her letting go, submitting to whatever the hell this is between us.

  Her soft lips move over mine, her mouth parting. A fistful of hair in my hand, I pull her tighter, our tongues find each other like we’ve done this a thousand times before. It’s slow, savoring the taste and feel of her. She breaks our kiss, breathless, and I’m waiting for her to leap off my lap, but instead she looks down as a coy little smile plays on her red, swollen lips. My hands slide down the curves of her body to her hips. Yanking her forward, I sit up, wrapping her legs around my waist. Her breath catches as my dick hits just the right spot.

  And then my phone dings in my pocket. They should program Siri to hold all messages when a hard-on is involved. Pulling my phone out, I see it’s Jade.

  Fucker! Sticking me with your kid while you’re off getting laid!

  Knowing I should go and willing my dick to stand down are two very different things. “Do you have to leave?” Campbell asks, her voice a whisper.

  Taking her down to the sofa, my fingers drift under the waistband of her pajama bottoms, her warmth calling me. “I should.”

  “You can’t leave me like this,” she moans softly.

  She’s right, I can’t. Her sweet little bud is swollen and hard, and she’ll have female blue balls, otherwise known as blue bean, if we don’t do something about it. It’s dirty work, but someone’s got to do it. She’s so damn sensitive, her back arching as she whimpers with each feather-light stroke across her sweet spot. My palm cups her as one finger glides just barely inside. I’ve got big hands, but Jesus, she’s a tight little thing. Her nails dig into my back through my shirt as she clings to me. Slipping my finger in and out, her body relaxes, and her hips start to move with me. “You want to come like this?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she breathes out. “Just like this.”

  The moment my second finger pushes deep into her, she flies over the edge, crying out my name. Normally a woman might want a second to recover, but not Campbell. Her arms and legs both wrap around me and her mouth crashes into mine as our bodies battle against each other, waging a war against the fire building up inside, begging to be let out.

  Too bad we are both completely dressed, or I’d be buried inside her by now. Then reality suddenly intrudes – I never replaced the condom in my wallet after the Angel incident last week. And I don’t go without a rubber, ever. Tate was the result of a broken one. But I’ve never been with a woman like Campbell, either. One I could trust.

  I hate to ask this, but judging by the way we are grinding into each other, I know I need to. “Campbell, do you have a condom?” Christ, I sound like such a low life loser. As far as I’m concerned, this is my responsibility.

  “No,” she whispers, stopping the rocking of her hips.

  Normally, I wouldn’t do this, but like I said, I trust Campbell. “Please tell me you’re on the pill, the shot, something?” Her eyes wide, her head shakes side-to-side slowly. “No, I’m . . .” If my dick could divorce me, I think he would at this point. Pushing on my eyes, I pull back slightly, realizing my cock between her legs isn’t going to help the situation. “Stone,” she whispers. “I’ve never.”

  “I’ve never done it without protection, either,” I say, blowing out a deep breath. “We’ll just wait a . . .”

  “No,” she says, motioning with her hand. “I mean, I’ve never.”

  “You’ve never what?”

  She chews on her bottom lip a minute. “Anything besides kissing, really.”

  How is that possible? There is nothing I can do except stare at this beautiful, untouched woman. Ever think about what it must have been like for all those explorers discovering the New World? Or gone hiking in the woods and thought about how you might be the only person who’s ever set foot in that place? That’s what this is like. She’ll only ever be mine! How could she possibly think she’s not good enough for me?

  “Are you going to leave?” she asks.

  What? My eyes widen, and I realize I’ve just been staring at her. “No. You just surprised the hell out of me. How is it you’ve only kissed a man?”

  “I stopped dating when I was about sixteen,” she says. “Please don’t ask me why.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” I say, cupping her cheek in my hand, making sure to use the clean one. “I was going to say . . .”

  “Open the door, you no good, son of a bitch!” a voice I know all too well yells, kicking the front door.

  “Damn, it’s Jade,” I say.

  “What’s she doing here?”

  “Looking to kick my ass, I’m guessing.” Adjusting my dick yet again, I walk over to the front door then look back at Campbell to make sure she’s ready before opening the door to face my sister. “How in the hell did you find me?”

  She marches right inside, throws Campbell a bitch stare, then turns back to me. “Tate and I were worried you missed dinner since you were supposed to go straight from class to training, so we picked up some food for you. But guess what? When we brought it by, your trainer said you had an emergency.” She flashes a look to Campbell. “Her pussy have another ache?”

  “Yeah, it did. What business is it of yours?” Campbell snaps.

  Holy hell, Jade whirls around like the chick in the exorcist, and I prepare myself to put a halt to a girl-on-girl beat down. But Jade calmly steps back and says, “You seem like a decent girl, definitely
not his usual type at all. So let me give you a little bit of advice about my brother.”

  Oh boy, no telling what’s coming out of her mouth.

  “He’s fucked his way through half the girls in this city, and they all have the same story,” Jade continues. “He gives them the most mind-blowing orgasms they’ve ever known, leaving them wanting more. But then he just walks away. Unless, of course, you’re that bitch Angel. Her self-esteem is so low, she doesn’t mind being used over and over again. No one will ever measure up to a night with the legendary Stone. I wouldn’t know, obviously, but that’s what they all say.”

  That’s my MMA name, “The Legend.”

  Jade narrows her eyes at Campbell and says, “He ruins women. That’s what he does.”

  Campbell looks at me, clearly expecting me to deny my sister’s rant, but I don’t. I can’t. It’s all true. “Thanks for the warning,” Campbell says. “But you have no right to barge into my house and . . .”

  “Let’s get something straight, Blondie. I have every right because I’m the one watching Tate. But more than that, he’s my brother, and he’s supposed to be training so he doesn’t get massacred next week. Not servicing your cunt.”

  Oh, Christ! Jade’s borderline psycho, but I know what she says is out of love. I mean, Tate and I are Jade’s only family. So I always give her a pass. Still, she needs to shut the fuck up now. “Jade, stop. Where’s Tate?”

  She smiles the most evil smile. “Next door at Campbell’s bestie’s house. She was so sweet. She even let me follow her here so I wouldn’t get lost.”

  “That sounds like Jenny,” I say.