Without Consequence

by Victoria L. James

  “You were smart. He’s fifteen. He was gonna have sex anyway, whether you had a problem with it or not. Not making it a big deal but talking to him like an adult, maybe you’ve stopped the little Tates and Sloanes from coming a decade too early.”

  “Okay, just stop.” I groaned, scrubbing my face with my hands. “That’s not something I want to even think about, because you know it would be me bringing the kid up.”

  The door pushed open before she could answer and Sam’s head popped inside. “Ayda, you have someone that requested your section. Never seen him before.”

  “Thanks, Sam.” I looked at Janette and shrugged. “No rest for the wicked.”

  I was done with the filled saltshakers and ketchup bottles. It was in between breakfast and lunch so it was slow. The moment I stepped out behind the counter, my smile grew.

  “Deeks, you do realize we don’t sell beer here, right?”

  “Oh, you’re a smartass, too. I knew I liked you, kid. I think coffee will cut it. You make one hell of a brew.”

  “Coffee I can do,” I said, turning to grab a cup and the fresh pot I’d just brewed. “You want something to eat? Rusty does a mean fried egg sandwich. Has bacon and sausage patties, too.”

  “Sold. If you add extra bacon.”

  “It’s a greasy spoon. You know that’s a hell yes, darlin’.” I grinned, scribbling on my pad and disappearing through the doors to put in his order, his laughter following me through.

  “Someone’s popular,” Sam grumbled, waltzing in and slipping into the one chair in the kitchen area and rolling her ankles. She was the only person I knew that wore heels working in a diner. The damn things would end up crippling her one day. I was just glad that I could wear my favorite chucks, otherwise, I may have thought twice before accepting the job all those years ago.

  “Huh?”

  “Someone else came in, saw the guy at the bar and meandered over to your section.”

  “I’ll get it. Thanks, hun.”

  I slipped the ticket in to be cooked and waltzed out, barely noticing Deeks’ eyes on the woman in the booth at the edge of my section. She was beautiful, but it was hard not to see that she was attempting to be something she wasn’t. The pant-suit she was wearing was gorgeous, but the way she tugged at the neckline of her silk shirt was more than enough to tell me she wasn’t used to what she was wearing.

  “Hi, welcome to Rusty’s diner. Can I get you something to drink while you decide what you want to eat?”

  “Oh, honey,” she purred snidely, her arms folding on the table as she stared up at me. “You’re telling me you don’t know who I am?”

  I looked behind me and back at the woman, shrugging. “Am I supposed to?”

  “Let’s not play dumb, blondie. I can see you’ve got your guard dog up there at the counter.” I looked back at Deeks in confusion and pushed my order pad into the apron of my dress, my eyebrows raised. The woman, however, chose to continue her speech, completely oblivious to my confusion. “My husband was at your house taking out the trash last night. A word of warning, you’re never going to replace me. I may have moved on but I’m not easily forgotten.”

  “I don’t follow.” Oh, but I did. The reference to the night before was more than enough to tell me that she had some kind of connection to the Hounds, and more than likely, Drew.

  “Oh, I can see why he might like you. A tight, wet hole was all he was interested in anyway.”

  “I really don’t know who you are or why you think it would be okay to talk to anyone that way, but I’m not interested. So why don’t you take your pathetic imitation of housewife somewhere they’ll buy your bullshit? Looks like you can take the hut away from the whore, but that just leaves a whore, doesn’t it?”

  The woman was out of her seat, her fists balled by her sides, before I had time to blink. The sudden flash of pain in my jaw as she swung for my face had my hand on my cheek and my mouth hanging wide open. I’d never been hit before in my life, and the sudden wash of unsated rage was a bitter taste on my tongue, never mind the ringing in my ears. My head and body seemed to align perfectly, demanding the satisfaction of getting payment in flesh and blood.

  I’d barely stepped forward, and my breaths weren’t doing anything to control the trembling of my balled fists, when Deeks wrapped an arm around her waist uttering a warning growl to her. “Easy, Maisey. Wouldn’t want to give your husband the wrong idea, would you? This girl’s not got a thing on her record. Just think about that.”

  His words were a bucket of cold water over my rage-heated skin. I found myself backing away and looking over at the table crowded with older men looking like it was the best entertainment they’d had in months. My head ducked, the pacifist side of me screaming out in reprimand for my behavior.

  “Get your stinking paws off me, Deeks,” Maisey shrieked, pulling her silk shirt down and snatching her bag from the table.

  “Then get the hell out of here, girl. She had you pegged in one conversation and she has no idea who you are. You’ve just made a fool out of yourself in front of the veteran boys for no good reason.”

  She glared at him and then me before heading toward the door. The way she wobbled on her heels stripped her of the effect she was obviously going for as she punched the door out of her way and disappeared into the blinding light of the afternoon.

  “Can you please explain what just happened?” I asked, turning on Deeks, with my hands on my hips as I heard ‘order up’ from the kitchen.

  “That, kid, was Maisey, Drew’s ex fuck buddy, and now Mrs. Howard Sutton. If you get me my food and join me for lunch, I’ll explain as much as I can.”

  I looked to the door and back to the kitchen, my hands dropping to my sides as I nodded in agreement. I was pretty sure there were going to be holes in the story. Hell, it was a guarantee, but at least I would have some kind of answer for the shit that just went down.

  “You got a deal, Deeks. Then you can explain what she meant about you being my guard dog.”

  The ‘oh shit’ look I got was more than enough confirmation that I wasn’t going to like what I heard.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Drew

  When Slater showed up in my bedroom doorway, sometime after lunch, holding up two pairs of boxing gloves while I struggled to lift my head and find a way to open my eyes, I was actually more than really fucking grateful. I’d fallen asleep the night before at some early hour in the morning. It had taken me a while to find a way to distract myself from the urge I felt to go to Sutton’s house and drag him out onto his front lawn by the scruff of his neck.

  I could take anything from any man, except one thing. I hated being patronized. The fact that he tried to belittle me in front of Ayda wound me up more than I wanted to admit, but by some miracle, sleep had claimed me, whether I’d been ready for it or not.

  “Time is it?” I groaned as I squinted at him and propped myself up on the mattress. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I let my head roll back and yawned, dragging the noise out so it sounded like the cry of a dog before I looked back up at him again.

  “Time you got your ass out of your pit, got your sweats on and headed out into the training room with me.”

  Blinking a few times over, I shuffled up to more of a sitting position, my knees falling further apart while I stared up at him blankly. “You’re taking me to the training room?” I asked croakily, struggling to wake my voice.

  “If you’re ready?” He smirked at me with a challenge in his eyes.

  I wanted to ask him what had taken him so long, but I knew that Slater, more than anyone, would probably give it to me straight, and quite frankly, I wasn’t sure I was in the mood for so much talking today. Not once my eyes locked back on the gloves and my fingers twitched in the bed sheets beside me. “I’m always fucking ready,” I growled through a smile.

  “Good. Get dressed and meet me there in fifteen.”

  “I’ll meet you there in five.”

  The door slammed shut, but not be
fore I saw the creasing of his eyes as he turned away. I jumped out of bed, not even bothering to head to the shower or anything as I hopped into my sweat pants commando style and pulled the drawstring tight around my waist. I was more ready for this than any other thing, besides riding my bike, even if my last time in the ring resulted in the night that changed all our lives.

  I’d spent too long avoiding getting back on the horse and now was the time. Now. Was. The. Time.

  Shoving my feet into my sneakers, I pulled open the door, walked through the bar and started to cross the yard, bare-chested. There was no need for me to wear anything more than I had to. I intended on making my body work hard. I needed to see if I could survive this.

  The smell of the old training room hit me smack in the face the moment I walked into the warehouse. While my eyes scanned all around me and tried to find a way to commit it all to memory again, my skin prickled as the ghost of Pete started to hang over me like an invisible blanket of both comfort and distress.

  “Not now, bud. Not now,” I whispered to myself, my lips barely moving as I spoke. “Let me do this.”

  Slater was in the far corner, rolling his neck from side to side as he picked up all the equipment around him and started to put things in order. As soon as I started to walk over to him, I caught his attention and he turned around to face me with a grin on his face.

  “No women in here, you know. Put on a shirt.”

  “It’s been a while since I let you check out your biggest competition, bud.” The smirk on my own face grew bigger as I approached him.

  “Please. I’ve seen more meat on Kenny.”

  “Why’s everyone got to talk about Kenny all the fucking time these days? He the golden boy now?” I came to a stop in front of him, my eyes looking up to scan the punch bag by our side like it was my very own version of Mount Everest.

  He tossed me my gloves and I turned back just in time to catch them as they hit my chest.

  “You got a problem with Kenny now?”

  “Only his eyebrows,” I grumbled back, smiling as I looked up at him and started to slide my gloves on like I’d not had a five-year break since the last time I wore them. “He’s like a skinny, white Fresh Prince of Bel Air. All he needs now is a tie dye t-shirt, a backwards cap and he’s set.”

  “Says the guy who waltzed in here like Swayze from Roadhouse.”

  “I’ll take that!” I laughed roughly, the excitement of being back in this kind of environment making my arms flex as I began to bounce on my toes.

  We bantered back and forth for a while until Slater took his position around the bag and began to throw out some old commands and routines we used to do together. He started out light at first, and I knew a lot of that was to do with him seeing how I fared being back in the middle of all these old memories of sweat and tears. I also knew deep down that I should have been filled with tension, and that even the thought of going up against something like this should have made me back away, but that just wasn’t who I was. Not around boxing. It was what had led me to making all those wrong decisions, all those years ago. It was like breathing to me, and Pete had been responsible for making that a part of my life.

  I’d be insulting his memory if I threw it away.

  Even if I was finding joy in something that had brought about his death.

  Slater continued to hold the bag, shouting out different sequences in quick succession for what felt like hours on end. Left, right, left. Right, left, right, left, right, right, jab, jab, right cross, fake an uppercut, right hook. Whatever he told me to do, whatever insults he shouted my way, I answered him with the power of my arms and the drive through my legs. I wanted this. I craved it. This was where I got high.

  It wasn’t long before Slater’s voice turned to that of Pete’s, and even though that just made my jaw tense harder and my frown crease deeper, I kept on keeping on. The low groans in the back of my throat turned to grunts. The air coming out of my nose mimicked that of a fucking bull. I was on fire and my muscles were aching for me to stop.

  “You fading on me, Tucker?” Slater wheezed out after my footwork took a stumble to the side and I was forced to correct myself, my forearm reaching up to wipe the sweat from my top lip while I sniffed up and tried to find my balance again.

  “Tucker don’t fade, Slater. Never has…” I threw a hard hit right, smashing my arm into the side and growling through the release of air in my throat. “Never will.”

  His laughter got caught as his own feet slipped sideways and he raised his brows back up at me. “That’s fighting talk, right there.”

  “You bet it is.”

  “You’ll be bigger than Kenny by the end of the week if you keep this up.”

  “Fuck Kenny,” I answered, doing a quick three-jab sequence before bringing my arms up to my chest and bouncing on my toes. “Fuck. Kenny.”

  “Never gonna happen. I don’t think he swings that way, bro. Not if the looks he’s been giving that girl of yours are anything to go by.”

  I knew for a fact that he’d said what he’d said just to throw me off course and hit a nerve, but I wasn’t going to bite. Ayda wasn’t mine and they could all go to shit if that’s what they thought was happening. “Good luck to him,” I snapped back, pushing forward to go for another round, stopping short as the door behind us swung open suddenly and I heard the sound of a familiar voice cry out.

  “Drew?” he yelled from across the room before his feet started to scurry across the hard floor. The fact that it was Deeks’ voice that was doing the shouting was what made me stop more than anything else. After last night outside Ayda’s house, I’d put him on watch out duties for the day. He wasn’t much use around this place for anything else, and for my own sanity, I’d collared him before I went to my room last night and told him what I wanted him to do. Sutton could pour his harassment shit on me all he wanted, but no one else. Not even Ayda. Turning my body around as I tried to pull in as much air as I could through my heavy pants, I frowned over at him and saw the panic on his face.

  “Deeks, calm the fuck down. You’ll give yourself a hernia.” Slater laughed breathlessly behind me. He hadn’t known of the undercover mission I’d put Deeks on. Nobody had.

  “Drew, we got a problem.” Deeks marched towards us both quickly, the worry on his face only forcing my frown to sink even deeper.

  “What?” I snapped back.

  “It’s Ayda…”

  My chest heaved up and down like a fucking animal as the sweat from the workout trickled down my spine and I shook my head. “What about her?”

  His eyes looked from me to Slater and back again before he reached to the back of his neck and scratched it awkwardly. “Uh, Maisey Sutton got to her.”

  I had no fucking idea what he was talking about, but the second I heard that two-dollar whore’s name fall from his lips, I had a pretty good idea. “Got to her how? What happened?”

  “It was down at the diner. She just strolled on in and started shouting and shit. Even got in a little slap across her face.”

  “I thought I told you to keep your fucking eye on her, Deeks.” I took a step closer to stand over him, hoping he saw the anger that had suddenly spread across my face. Why I was getting angry over two bitches throwing claws all over the place, I had no idea. But I was, and I was blaming the man who stood in front of me.

  “That’s not the worst part…”

  “You put Deeks on bodyguard duty over a chick?” Slater laughed behind me, the disbelief in his voice pretty damn obvious.

  Ignoring him as much as I could, I growled down at the man beneath me and held his gaze. “What’s the worst part?”

  “Umm. She knows I was sent to watch her, and she… She ain’t too happy about that, Drew, I gotta tell you.”

  My hands fell to my waist as I let my head roll back and groaned out loud in frustration. Great. Just what I needed. Another person pissed at me. And they said prison life was tough. “Thanks a lot, Deeks. Thanks a fucking lot, brother.”
>
  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Ayda

  I was leaned over the sink, studying the bruise on my cheek when I heard the door slam closed from Tate’s room as he slugged down the hall towards the kitchen. I’d been hiding from him since the bruise had started blossoming under my skin. I’d already spent an hour that morning trying to cover it up. If there was anything that really, truly bothered me, it was the thought of being treated as though I was weak, and that’s exactly what a bruise would convey. Weakness. The fact that Maisey fucking Sutton didn’t have a blemish on her pissed me off even more.

  I’d done everything I could to cover the ugly bruise and headed in the same path Tate had taken, watching him bang around the kitchen angrily while I leaned against the arch between rooms.

  “Okay, are you going to stay mad at me forever, T?”

  “I’m not mad at you anymore. I’m mad at myself and Sloane’s stupid stepmother.”

  My heart dropped for a second and I let my hair fall forward, covering any trace of the bruise on my cheek. “Why? What’s her stepmom done now?”

  “She convinced the chief that Sloane shouldn’t be allowed to see me. She said I was a bad influence and lied about coming home to find me in Sloane’s bed.”

  “Tate!”

  “I said it was a lie and it was. I would never do that. The only place we’ve hung out since she was banned from here was the Chandler’s hay loft.”

  “Seriously?” I asked, raising my brows at him.

  “I said I didn’t–”

  “No, I believe you about that,” I said, waving my arm about. “I’m just surprised about the barn. You can’t wait a couple of days?”

  “Shut up. You try being a teenage boy with a stiffy every time you sneeze, then ask me if I’m serious.”

  I made a face at him and pushed off the wall to steal some of the cereal he was pouring out. He swatted me away, but I just grinned and shoved them in my mouth, asking him what he was going to do now.

  “What can I do?”