by Bea Paige
“Well, you know what they say about being able to dance well…” I retort with a smirk. Flirting isn’t usually my thing and flirting with Sonny really shouldn’t be something I’m entertaining. But I do it anyway. I let my inhibitions go and lean back into Sonny, allowing him to hold me tightly against his body. It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever done. In fact, it feels kind of… nice.
I swig back the last mouthful of beer before Sonny grabs the can and chucks it towards the pit. It disappears over the side, hurtling into the darkness just as the beat picks up speed into something more primal. I feel the change in Sonny, the spark of something coming alight between us. For the longest time we just dance, my back to his front. It’s slow, sensual, bordering on illegal. He’s hard, I’m hot and achy. I’ve no clear idea what’s going on. Perhaps this is my way of dealing with the ordeal earlier. Like some weird kind of fight or flight response. I survived. I need to feel that I survived, so I’m getting horny with a guy I promised myself I wouldn’t even give the light of day, let alone close access like this.
“Fuck, Asia,” he whispers.
In response to his almost guttural reaction to me, I arch my lower back pressing my arse into his groin. “If you can’t take the heat, Sonny, I suggest you step away from the fire,” I smirk, loving that he seems to be losing his mind a little.
“Oh, baby, I can take all the heat you’re able to give,” he responds, his fingertips feathering beneath the waistband of my jeans, “And turn it into an inferno.”
I’m pretty sure I should be moving away, but I don’t do that. I let him hold me, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed so firmly against mine. When his lips brush along the curve of my neck, I don’t stop him. In fact, I let out a low moan of my own, my lips parting on a breath as his teeth scrape across the sensitive skin.
“Looks like we’ve got an audience,” Sonny whispers into my ear, as his arm slides around me tighter. Across the room Ford is watching us, fire blazing in his eyes. He looks royally pissed off. In fact, he looks as though he’s about to commit murder.
What’s that all about? Then I remember his comment to Monk about me being his girl and for reasons unknown to me, I want to test that sense of property. Looking at him dead in the eye, I smile suggestively then turn in Sonny’s arms so that I’m facing him, before resting my head against his chest, hip to hip. He smells even more of the ocean now in such close proximity. I breathe him in, feeling a little drunk on the shitty alcohol, on him. If I’m perfectly honest with myself, it turns me on that he’s turned on, and it makes me feel good knowing that Ford is watching. Maybe Camden is too? Fuck, where did that thought come from?
“Why are you doing this, Asia?” Sonny asks half a minute later. His hand slides down my back and rests on the top of my arse.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” I respond, swirling my hips against his. Fuck knows what’s got into me. Really, this isn’t my style and for a brief moment I wonder if the beer was spiked. Given I’ve still got great control of my body, even if my mind has decided to do a one-hundred-and-eight-degree turn, I know it wasn’t.
Fuck it. I think for the gazillionth time since I set foot inside the Tower.
I’m always worrying about everyone else. Tonight, after all the shit that’s gone down, I’m going to just go with it. Aside from Ford, everyone else is oblivious to what’s happening between us. Actually, that probably isn’t true given both Pink and Kate are staring at me open mouthed now. They’re going to give me the third degree later. Oh, well.
“Don’t get me wrong, I like the attention, but I’m a little surprised by it,” Sonny admits, frowning. “Up until half an hour ago, these dimples of mine and my charm wasn’t having much effect. I thought I was losing my touch.”
“The dimples are nice,” I say, reassuring him, because honestly they are, “But the charm could do with a lot of work. I don’t like arrogance. Confidence, however, is a whole other ball game.”
He grins, showing me those very attractive dimples to full effect. “Dimples are a go, arrogance is a turn-off, but confidence is not. Have I got that right?”
“I like your eyes too,” I suggest with a little smirk.
His grin widens… and then, just as quickly it falls. “What do you want?” he says to someone behind me.
“Looks like our resident skank is up for a bit of something-something tonight.”
Monk. I should’ve known the bastard wouldn’t leave me alone for five fucking minutes.
Sonny shifts me in his hold so that I’m shoved behind him.
“Up for a gang-bang?” he questions lasciviously.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Sonny grabs Monk by the throat and squeezes. “Back the fuck off, Monk,” he seethes. Monk doesn’t back off. Instead he raises his fist and slams it into the side of Sonny’s head.
A fraction of a second later, all hell breaks loose.
I’m thrown to one side, stumbling into the crowd of people that have gathered around us. Pink and Kate reach for me, shock and a little bit of glee lighting their faces.
“Fuck, Asia, look what you’ve started,” Pink says, grinning. “You’ve got Sonny defending your honour. The guy has got it bad.”
“I don’t need defending,” I retort, moving towards the two of them who are now laying into each other. The sound of bone meeting flesh and muscle, and the jeers and excitement from the crowd drowns out the music. “This is my fight, not his!” I shout to anyone who’ll listen. Only one person is.
A hand grabs my arm, pulling me back.
“This is Sonny’s fight, not yours,” another familiar voice counters.
I look up to see Ford standing next to me. He doesn’t even acknowledge me, instead he has his gaze trained on the fight even though he’s firmly gripping my arm. The crowd steps back, forming a jostling circle around Sonny and Monk. Everyone wants to watch the fight.
“Fucking do him in!” one of the HH crew members cries out, fist pumping in the air.
“Make him bleed!” another shouts.
“Hit him, Sonny,” Pink screams, letting him know he has people on his side.
The two are similar in width, but Sonny is a few inches taller than Monk and it gives him a slight edge. Pretty soon the crowd is working itself up into a frenzy, the atmosphere changing from the fun of a few minutes ago to downright feral. It’s like something out of Mad Max, that film Tracy liked to watch on repeat mainly because she fancies Mel Gibson so much.
“This is my fight,” I repeat.
“Sonny laid hands on Monk first and now he has to end it. Those are the rules.”
“Rules?”
“Of the Tower,” Ford explains.
“Pink said this place was used to settle scores.”
“That’s right. He insulted you and Sonny decided to defend you. So, let him. It’s about time someone taught that prick a lesson given his own leader won’t,” Ford growls, seeking out Camden, his eyes narrowing when they find him.
“You don’t understand. Monk set upon me earlier tonight. This really is my fight and I want my fucking revenge,” I bite out.
“What the fuck, Asia?” Ford snaps, his gaze focusing back on me. He yanks me around to face him, drawing a snarl from my lips.
“What is with you and manhandling me?” I grind out, glaring at him even though inside I’m on fire.
“Don’t avoid my question. What are you talking about, Asia?” he asks, dropping his hand, but not apologising for grabbing me.
“Monk and six of his gang tried to jump me earlier this evening. Monk set me up, telling me to meet him on the third floor of the annex.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?” Ford snaps, anger darkening his grey-green eyes. “That was stupid.”
“He had a message from my friend, Eastern. I agreed to meet with him so I could see it. I should’ve known fucking better. So, yeah, fucking stupid. It won’t be happening again. I’ve learnt my lesson.”
A muscle jumps in Ford’s jaw. “
So, that’s where he went. I should’ve known. I thought he was with Camden, seeing as he arrived tonight.”
“No, he was trying to terrorize me.”
“And did he?” Ford asks, searching my face.
“No,” I half lie. He did fucking scare me though, even if it was for just a bit, but I’m not about to reveal that and neither am I going to tell Ford that Camden witnessed me crying about it either.
“Good. Never let them know they’ve affected you.”
Turning away from me, Ford continues to watch the fight. He holds his whole body stiff but makes no move to step in and break up the fight. I’d love to know what he’s thinking, perhaps our sessions with Mr Burnside will eventually open him up enough for me to see beyond his toughened exterior.
Before us, fists fly, knees jab, feet kick. It’s a dirty fight and with no referee to cut in, both sides are injured. Blood seeps from a cut in Sonny’s eyebrow and Monk’s lip is split. When Monk hits Sonny with such force that he stumbles backwards slightly I move forward instinctively.
“They’re going to kill each other,” I grind out. I really don’t want Sonny to get hurt on my account. Ford reaches out once more, but this time instead of grabbing me, he slides his arm around my back and draws me into his side. I’m acutely aware of his thumb hooking under the waistband of my jeans and the gentle, almost cajoling stroke of his fingers against my hip. He doesn’t say a word but despite everything that’s happening, it’s a distraction. Heat swirls outwards from my stomach and settles between my legs. What the fuck is up with me tonight? I’m like a dog in heat.
Monk punches Sonny in the back not far from his left kidney, and the power behind the punch forces Sonny to his knees. For a second Monk just prowls around Sonny spitting blood and spittle on the floor whilst the crowd goes nuts. Everyone bar me, Kate, Pink, Ford and, weirdly, Camden remain closed-mouthed. Monk even has the audacity to look over at me and point.
“You’re next,” he says smiling, his teeth coated in blood.
A rumbling growl releases from Ford at the same time that Sonny pushes to his feet. He’s a little wobbly, but he stands.
“I need to help him,” I protest, trying to step out of Ford’s hold. He tightens his arm around me, refusing to let me go.
“Sonny’s got this. Monk is strong, yes, but he has no stamina or common sense. Wait,” he urges, and for some reason I do. Though it hurts me to see Sonny take the punches. The realisation that I don’t like seeing him hurt is a bit of a shocker, given before tonight I hadn’t even considered Sonny more than an irritating gnat, least of all a friend. Sometime during this evening, that changed.
Across the other side of the room, I can see Camden watching the fight play out and I wonder what he really thinks about this whole display. Earlier today he defended me against Monk, at least I think that’s what he did. But perhaps he was just him reaffirming his power as leader. Yeah, that’s more likely. Now his gaze slips from the violent brawl and lands on us both, specifically me and Ford’s arm wrapped around my back. His attention makes my skin ice over then heat up all in one fell swoop.
“When this is over, Camden and I are going to need to have a little chat,” Ford states. “I’m not down with this bullshit Monk’s playing. One-on-one in a fair fight is one thing, fucking seven on one. No way. No fucking way.”
My response stills on my tongue as Sonny hits Monk square on the nose, blood spraying from his face at the impact. I’m pretty sure it’s broken. Monk falls to his knees ending the fight just like that. It’s been bloody and vicious. Sonny hasn’t come out of it unscathed, but he has won, and that’s all that matters right now. Some of the HH crew crowd around Monk, helping him to his feet and dragging him over to the far side of the space. It doesn’t go unnoticed that Camden doesn’t move towards him, and neither do a vast portion of the HH crew. The division is obvious. A couple of minutes later, the music gets turned up once more, and the crowd fills the floor and begins to dancing as if nothing happened.
“Jesus, that was intense,” Pink says, breathing out slowly as though she were holding her breath the whole time.
“I’m gonna have that chat now,” Ford says, squeezing my hip once before letting me go. He walks past Sonny, gripping him briefly on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.
“Uh-oh, here comes Mr H.O.T number two,” Pink says, nudging me in the side.
Sonny approaches us with a split eyebrow and a nasty bruise forming on his cheek. He’s holding onto his side as well. He’s pretty fucked up.
“Pink was right, he sure has got it bad,” Kate mutters before Pink pulls her away, leaving the two of us alone once more.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I state. It comes out sounding ungrateful, I don’t mean it to. I’m just not used to people coming to my rescue. This is the second time he’s stuck up for me now and I don’t like it. He has no business taking on my shit like that.
“He’s a prick. He deserved it. Besides, I couldn’t let him speak to you like that. It isn’t right.”
“Is there a toilet here? You need to clean that,” I say, pointing to the cut on his brow and the blood dribbling from the wound, trying my utmost to ignore the intense look he’s giving me.
“No toilets, but there’s a whole ocean outside.”
“Come on then,” I say, taking his hand in mine and pulling him through the crowd. “Let me clean you up.”
21
Sonny and I head down to the shoreline. Outside the air is cool, crisp, but given it’s so hot inside the Tower, I welcome the sea breeze and the sharp sting of the salt spray. The water’s a little choppier now, reflecting the turmoil I feel.
“Sit down,” I urge Sonny, who’s looking at me with a guarded expression now. He’s normally so expressive. Actually, he’s normally full of innuendo and bravado, but it seems right now that part of him is remaining tight-lipped. Maybe he took note of what I said earlier or maybe the punches to his head have had more of an impact than either of us realise.
“Shit, I’ve got nothing to clean you up with,” I say. It’s not as if I’m carrying a bloody first-aid kit with me. I’m betting the Tower doesn’t have anything useful either.
Sonny strips off his t-shirt, handing it to me. “Use this,” he says, a tiny sparkle lighting his eyes as my gaze roves over the firm muscles of his chest and arms. He’s got a tattoo, a rather large one actually, of an eagle spread out over his chest. The intricate wings are tattooed into his pecs whilst the body and head of the bird are centred between them.
“Nice tattoo,” I say, trying not to trip over my words, or drool as I walk the few steps to the water. That wouldn’t be cool.
“Thanks,” he mutters, a tiny little smirk twitching his lips when I look back up at him. Perhaps the arrogance hasn’t quite been knocked out of him yet. Bunching up his shirt, I dip it into the water making sure it’s nice and soaked before ringing it out a little. Then I return, kneeling between Sonny’s parted legs and lift it to his face. He winces the second it touches his skin.
“Fuck.” He jerks a little, but I cup the back of his head with my free hand, keeping his head still.
“It’s pretty deep. You might need a couple stitches.”
“Fuck that. I’ll stick a plaster on it when I get back.”
“Sonny…”
“If Mr Carmichael finds out I’ve been brawling then I’m out.”
“Monk fucking tried to hit me and ended up punching Pink, he’s not out,” I say, pressing a little firmer against the cut. Sonny sucks in a sharp breath but this time he doesn’t pull away.
“It’s part of my deal, Asia. I can’t brawl, ever. If they get wind of what happened then not only am I putting the Tower in jeopardy, I’m also on a one-way ticket out of here and into some secure unit for kids with anger issues.” He smarts at that, rolling his eyes. “Not to mention Bryce will fucking kill me.”
“What do you mean, part of your shit?”
“I’m not just here because I have l
ight fingers and love the rush of stealing. I’m also here because I get into fights, Asia. A lot of fights. Let’s just say Monk isn’t the first person I’ve fucked up because the rage takes over. And by fuck up, I mean put into hospital.”
“Shit,” I say, not having any other words.
“You’re surprised by that?” He looks at me behind guarded features and I’m pretty sure no one else is aware that’s why he’s here at Oceanside.
“Actually, no. I get it now. It makes perfect sense.” I pull back my hand, turn the t-shirt to a cleaner spot then wipe at the blood caking his face. “There, that’s as good as I can get it,” I say, lowering my hand and dropping the t-shirt onto the pebbles. Sonny stares at me for a bit, then lifts his hand to swipe a stray hair behind my ear. His warm fingers burn a trail across my cool cheek.
“What makes perfect sense?” he asks, tipping his head to the side. He reaches around his back and rubs at his side. I worry a little that Monk has done damage to his kidney.
“Is that hurting?” I ask, frowning. “Let me see.”
Leaning forward, Sonny lets me inspect his side. I run my fingers over the spot he was just touching and gently press against the area. “That hurt?”
“Not now it doesn’t,” he murmurs, catching my fingers in his. “Seriously. It’s fine. I’ve taken knocks like that before, I’ll survive.”
“Okay.” Sitting back on my haunches I draw my lip ring into my mouth. He watches me carefully.
“You didn’t answer my question. Tell me what you meant about it making perfect sense.”
“The humour, the charm, the jokes and the dirty talk. I figured you were hiding something underneath all of that,” I reply with a shrug.
“You did?” he asks, a little surprised given the look on his face.
“I did,” I retort, not elaborating further. Not explaining how he’s been infiltrating my thoughts these past few days or that I’ve sensed that anger rumbling beneath his skin. “How are you going to explain this away?” I ask, pointing to his cut and the bruise blooming on his cheek.