Conflict (Black Hearts MMA, #2)

by Kylie Hillman

  The E that I double-dropped with my crew is surging through my veins. I’ve never felt its effect without the baseline of normalcy created by my ADHD medication so the response I’m having to it takes me by surprise.

  I’m wired—and not in the levelled out, focused way my meds usually give me. My hair stands on end. My body feels like it’s powered by electricity. My mind is clear, each thought a separate entity that lodges inside my brain with crystal-like clarity. The feel of Gabbi’s warmth against my skin is thrilling. She is hot and smooth, and she smells good, and she’s solid and perfect and...

  She’s not the one I want.

  My gaze becomes laser-focused on Amy. Her oval eyes are wider than usual. Her porcelain skin is translucent in the strobe lights that bounce around the club. Her lips are slightly parted. I want to taste her. Touch her tongue with mine. Wrap her long hair around my wrist and use it to open her up to me. I want to tear that dress from her perfect body so I can run my hands over her supple form.

  I want Amy more than anything I’ve ever coveted in my life.

  Gabbi moves in my arms, her arse pressing against my bulge. I freeze with my fingers linked over her stomach. It hits me like a steam train when realise that I’ve been pushing my hard-on—the one created by thoughts of Amy—against her. I’ve been touching her, rubbing her stomach and stroking the underside of her breasts to visions of what I’d like to do to her friend.

  Glancing at Amy, I expect to find her angry with me. Instead, she’s smiling. She opens her mouth wider and grins at me, then she shouts a single word.

  “Now.”

  The sound of her directive is swallowed by the noise of the club, but I understand its meaning. Amy laughs at Gabbi when she stiffens in my arms, then she turns away from us and starts dancing in Drew’s arms. I grind my teeth, a sudden surge of rage gripping me when my friend’s hands drop to her arse.

  Jep moves into my line of sight, slightly off to the side of Amy and Drew. He screws his nose up, challenge sparking from his eyes, and stalks toward Gabbi. I’m stuck between two extremes—my brain is frozen, and my body is overheating.

  I want Amy, but I don’t really. I don’t want Gabbi, but I really do.

  Seeing my best friend advancing is enough to snap me part way back to reality. The game that me and Jep play is dangerous—our egos are on the line. We live to one-up each other. I muster every ounce of brain capacity I can find and channel it into one coherent sentence.

  “Ninja girl,” I say with a chuckle. “Keep grinding on my cock like that and I’m gonna have a mess to clean up.”

  Gabbi swings around in my arms. She glares at me and I smile. Jep comes to stand behind me with Taz and Drew joins them a moment later. The staring contest between me and Gabbi goes on until she breaks first to look at Jep.

  “What’s up,” he quips.

  Gabbi gives him a wink. I can’t see Amy any longer. She’s disappeared into the crowd. Jep nudges me from behind and I react on instinct. I channel the rage I still feel at the sight of Drew’s hands on Amy’s backside into my scuffle with Jep until it ends with him in a headlock and the Head of Security for Nitro’s surrounding us.

  While I placate security and organise our passage downstairs with our new guest, I keep an eye on Gabbi. Surely, she’s going to notice that her friend is missing soon?

  As the situation dies down and it’s agreed that Gabbi can come with us to the basement, I notice that she’s furiously texting on her phone. Angling myself so I can catch a glimpse of her screen, I read the last text she received.

  AMY: Don’t kill me for meddling, G. You need to get laid. Stop being a stress head and let the hot man have his way with you.

  An impotent type of frustration courses through me as the meaning behind the message sinks in. Whatever it is that draws me to Amy is one-sided. I’m a fucking idiot. It’s obvious that she sees me as nothing more than a potential cock for her friend to bounce on.

  When Gabbi finishes with her phone, she tucks it into her bra and looks up at me with expectation in her amber gaze. I push away the final remnants of my irrational bitterness toward Amy and concentrate on the hot chick in front of me.

  “So, Nate. Amy’s ditched me and I’m not ready to go home just yet. What’s happening downstairs?”

  The come-fuck-me look in her eyes as she speaks is all the invitation I need. I concentrate on the effects of the E as it speeds through my veins and allow it to take me to that place in my head where nothing else matters.

  Once my body is vibrating and my brain is clear, I grin at Gabbi.

  She squirms on the spot as my intentions with her are clearly telegraphed.

  Gabbi’s resulting smile makes my choice for me.

  Amy who?

  TWELVE

  Amy

  Once I’ve finished texting Gabbi, I head outside into the night air. Every atom in my body screams at me, telling me I’ve made a mistake, but I ignore them.

  What’s done is done and it’s time to go home.

  Back to my safe space and my safe life.

  After the taxi I summoned comes to a stop at the curb, I slide into the back seat and slam the door shut. The driver looks in the rear-vision mirror and meets my eyes. His eyebrows draw together, and sympathy emanates from his aged visage.

  “Are you okay, Miss?”

  A choked sound leaves my throat when I try to speak so I press my lips together and shake my head. He holds my gaze in the mirror and says nothing further.

  His quiet compassion kills me. This is what I’ve been reduced to—accepting kindness from strangers while I hide in the back of a smelly cab in the front of a seedy nightclub.

  “If someone has done something to you,” the taxi driver ventures slowly. “I can take you to the Police.”

  “No,” I reply in a squeaky voice. “I’m fine, really. Just having a bad night.”

  My eyes burn with unshed tears and my heart pounds at an ugly pace in my chest. I should be happy. I achieved what I set out to do. Gabbi and Nate have connected and they’re doing God knows what right now somewhere in Nitro’s—just like two, unattached attractive people should be.

  So why is it that every time I blink, all I can see is the heat in Nate’s gaze as he inadvertently mocked me from behind Gabbi by touching her in the exact way I wish he would touch me?

  And why am I angry at him for doing what I helped him set out to do?

  Because I’m a neurotic mess with serious issues, that’s why.

  “Ahem,” the driver clears his throat. I blink and one tear falls free from my left eye. “I’m really sorry, Miss, but I need to drive. The meter is ticking, and my boss says to go or tell you to get out.”

  He points at the little speaker thing in his ear. There is apology in his tight smile. It matches the angst I feel in my soul. The timid steps that I take through life are the reason why I feel like this. I can throw myself into a date with a doctor my mother set up, but God forbid I actually pursue what I truly want.

  “Can you wait for one moment?” I ask, wiping my face and lifting my lips in a trembling smile. “I forgot something in the club. I promise I’ll be right back. Leave the meter running, I’m good for it.”

  He eyes me with skepticism in his expression before he dips his head in a single nod.

  Launching myself out of the taxi, I push to the head of the line and through the door. The bouncers know me—until I sold his share after his death, Jon was a silent partner in the club—so they let me straight in. I smile to myself when I realise that I’ve never told Gabbi that’s why she can get in here with her obviously fake ID.

  I’ve cut myself off so much that I don’t even let the people I trust know the most basic things about me.

  That’s going to change tonight.

  I’m going to change tonight. I’m going to find Gabbi and I’m going to tell her that I’m attracted to Nate. Then I’m going to work on being more honest and open with everyone in my life... starting with my mother tonight.
<
br />   I’m a grown woman. My parents can either accept that or not. I’m not hiding my real self any longer.

  As my eyes adjust to the dimness of the club, I search the crowds for Gabbi. My pulse pounds in my ears and liquid relief courses through me. The tears that were threatening before dry up and I rediscover my power as a woman.

  Jon loved how assertive I was. He approved of how I stood firm and worked hard for what I wanted. He celebrated my strength and he applauded my gumption. I miss that Amy.

  I want that Amy back.

  It takes me a few moments, but I eventually spot Gabbi and Nate’s posse over near the door that leads to the basement below. One of Sydney’s worst kept secrets is the underground fight club that takes place in the lower levels of establishments like this. For a fleeting second, I pray that Nate isn’t stupid enough to take an underage girl to the fights, then I remember that Gabbi is probably more equipped than me to deal with what goes on down there.

  The hope that I’d allowed to burgeon within me dies an almost immediate death when I see Nate throw his arm over Gabbi’s shoulder and pull her into his side. She goes willingly, wrapping herself around his body. He touches her chin and their eyes lock. I can’t make out their expressions, but I’ve seen enough.

  I’m too late.

  Spinning on my heel, I run through the crowd and back out the doors onto the sidewalk. An empty curb side greets me. The taxi has left. With heavy limbs and an even heavier heart, I stumble out onto the road. A car lays on its horn as it skids to a stop a mere metre from me.

  “Fucking hell, Amy.” Grant, the owner of Nitro’s follows me out onto the road. He takes hold of my upper arm and drags me back to the sidewalk. “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing,” I mumble.

  “Didn’t look like nothing to me.”

  When I look up at him, the sadness that I’ve been fighting all night hits me. I drop to my knees and cover my face with my hands. Grant sits on the stained sidewalk and puts his arms around me.

  “Is it Jon?” he asks.

  I nod my head, then I shake it. He hugs me tighter and rocks me on the spot. We sit like this for God knows how long. I cry. Grant soothes. I cry some more. Grant whispers that I’m going to be all right. Eventually my arse goes numb and I become aware of the ridiculousness of the situation.

  I’m having a breakdown in front of a nightclub.

  Could I be any more basic bitch if I tried?

  “Thanks,” I mumble as I pull away from Grant. His wavy brown hair is a mess and I’ve left a wet, snotty patch on the front of his shirt. “I’ll pay for your dry-cleaning. Just send me the bill.”

  He laughs. The sound startles me, and I jump, then I start to laugh too. Grant gathers me back in his embrace and hugs me hard. This is too much like old times, yet it’s nothing like them all at once because Jon is missing... and he’s never coming back.

  “Do you want me to take you home?” he asks. “It’ll take me five minutes to have my car brought round.”

  “Nah,” I answer with a head shake. “I can get a taxi.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “I’ll be fine, Grant. Thank you, anyway.”

  He seems relieved and that’s when I spot the woman waiting in the shadows. Grant’s either just been on a date or is heading out on one and I’ve interrupted it with my breakdown. I pull away from him and get to my feet. Smoothing my dress down, I point at the woman and smile.

  “You’re busy. Go have fun.”

  He hails me a cab and helps me inside. After giving the driver my address, he pauses, and we stare at each other with words that we can’t say on the tip of our tongue. Jon was my husband, but he was Grant’s best friend. We both lost someone special—a fact that I’ve never really thought about until tonight.

  Holding the door open with one hand, Grant touches the light scar on my shoulder with a single fingertip. It’s just one of the half dozen I was left with after the car mowed my little family down that day.

  And that’s not counting the multitude on my heart and soul.

  “He loved you,” Grant states. I sink my top teeth into my bottom lip and nod. “If he had to die for anyone, I know he would be glad that it was you.”

  A choking sob bubbles up my chest and out of my mouth. Grant leans in and kisses my cheek.

  “Be happy, Amy. That’s what he all he would have wanted from you.” Grant offers me a tentative smile. “Stay in touch. It’s been too long since we’ve hung out.”

  Closing the door with a soft thud, Grant bangs on the roof of the taxi. The vehicle pulls away smoothly and I collapse back against the stiff, leather seat and try to contain my tears.

  Tonight mightn’t have gone the way I’d hoped—or more to the point it did—but I have learned a valuable lesson.

  Tomorrow is a new day; a gift of a new chance.

  And that’s not something everyone gets.

  THIRTEEN

  Nate

  A smooth pair of legs are tangled with mine under the covers. A cloud of dark hair covers my face. A soft, feminine moan greets me when I try to wriggle out from underneath the body that lays half over mine.

  “What time is it?” the chick in my bed asks. She sits up straight, seemingly unconcerned with her nakedness. “I have class at eleven.”

  Crawling out of bed, I shove my legs back into my jeans and button them up. I run a hand through my hair, using the movement to camouflage my furtive observation of the stranger I slept with. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before—she’s not one of the usual hangers-on at the fights and she’s definitely not Gabbi.

  Or Amy. That thought is pushed out of my head before it can properly form.

  “It’s Saturday. There’s no classes today,” I reply. With one hand I scoop my t-shirt from the floor while I slide the other under the edge of my mattress to make sure my wallet and my watch are safely tucked away. Satisfied that they’re both there, I hit the girl with a half-smirk. “Wanna round two before you go?”

  She laughs at me, then throws herself backward on the bed. Her breasts bounce and she covers her mouth with both hands until she gets her laughter under control. Once she’s stopped, she hops out of bed and starts dressing.

  “Um, yeah, about that,” she begins in a voice filled with malice and mirth. “Having a round two would mean we’d already had a round, and I’m sorry but that isn’t the case.”

  After making air quotes around the words “round two,” she stares hard at me until I feel my face heating. Turning, she presents her back to me and gestures for me to zip her dress up. My hands shake while I lift the zipper and I feel about two inches tall when she pats my cheek before she walks away from me to gather her heels.

  I hope she isn’t saying what I think she is.

  Shoving my trembling hands into the pocket of my denim, I follow her to my bedroom door. My mind is blank and I’m at a loss as to how to play this off.

  Do I make a joke?

  Ask for details?

  Offer to take her to breakfast?

  The answer is driven home loud and clear when she pulls open the door and steps out into the communal living area that me and Jep share in this two-bedroom, single storey house. Fluffing her hair, the look she pins me to the spot with is filled with spite.

  “For the record, Nate,” she enunciates with precision. My house mate and the two girls he’s entertaining stop what they’re doing and turn their attention to us. “My name is Gwen. I don’t appreciate it when little boy’s with reputations like yours fall asleep between my legs, mid-lick.”

  In slow motion, I see her mouth move to form the words. With disbelieving ears, I hear the syllables as she pronounces them. Through horrified eyes, I witness her tongue flicking out between her lips as she makes a licking motion to punctuate her statement.

  My legs turn to jelly. Mortification of a level I’ve never encountered takes hold of me. The two girls with Jep start giggling. My fingers curl into fists. Jep stands and stomps over
to us.

  “Get the fuck out,” he demands. Gwen takes a step closer to him and lays her hand on his chest. When she stands on tiptoe and whispers something in his ear, he grabs her by her upper arm and drags her out of the house. Slamming the door shut behind her, he points at the remaining women. “If you find this funny, you can go, too.”

  They both cease laughing immediately. Jep comes back to me and slings his arm over my shoulder. I pull away from him and trip my way through the living room on unsteady legs and out the front door. Gwen is waiting out the front of our yard with her phone to her ear as she yells at the person on the other end of the call to come pick her up.

  I wait until she’s ended her call before I approach. She backs up with her hands in the air and wariness in her eyes.

  “Look, I was a bitch, but seriously, you had it coming. You embarrassed me at the club, then you fell asleep while you were going down on me.”

  Ignoring her excuses, I ask the question that had me following her out here. “What did I call you?”

  Confusion reddens her face for a second, then she screws up her nose at me. “It wasn’t even close to my name. Like you didn’t even mishear it. You just didn’t bother to remember it.”

  “What was it?” I shout. Grabbing my hair, I pull the strands until it hurts. The pain does nothing to stop the echo in my head that tells me I already know what I called her. “Tell me, for fuck sake.”

  “God, you’re such a fuckhead,” Gwen spits back at me. I shake my head to clear my vision when it goes blurry. She glares at me for half a minute and I beg her with my eyes to answer me. Eventually her expression softens a tad, and she supplies the truth.

  “Amy. You kept calling me Amy.”

  Inclining my head, I acknowledge her response, then I stalk my way back into the house. Jep is back sitting on the couch with his two playthings and the three of them are making out. He pulls himself away from them when I pass them by.