by Paula Cox
They had bonded quickly over their no-choice fate, and Prince had spilled his guts about the decision that had broken his heart…and about the woman who would always occupy a spot there. He had never mentioned her name, but apparently it had been very easy for Rick to put two and two together.
“It is her, isn’t it?” his friend asked now—although they both knew it was an unnecessary question.
“It’s her,” Prince finally admitted. “But it doesn’t matter.”
Rick stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘it doesn’t matter?’ She’s back. You have a second chance.”
“She’s only here temporarily.”
“So? All the more reason to act, and to act quickly.”
“Why? It’s not like I can be with her.”
“Why not?”
Prince looked at his friend as if he had just suffered a blow to the head. “You know why. The club wouldn’t take it well if I got myself a serious relationship.”
Rick took a hearty sip of his beer. “We’re not slaves, dude.”
“Aren’t we?”
Rick froze. He seemed to think about it for a very long time. Then, finally, he shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “I refuse. They can’t take that away from us too.”
Prince sighed. Rick was particularly touchy on this subject; he was gay and had been rejected by everyone he had ever known for it. Joining the Devil’s Fighters had delivered the fatal blow to his ever having a chance to express his sexuality—the club would kill him if they ever found out.
“Look, Rick, I wish things were different, but we both know how it works,” Prince said, trying to reason. He tried not to think too much about the fact that he was really mostly trying to convince himself. “Bennie wants us to focus solely on the fights. A woman would be a distraction.”
Rick gave him the ghost of a smirk. “I read somewhere that sex before an athletic effort can actually improve the performance.
Prince rolled his eyes. “Where did you read that?”
“Health Magazine.”
He couldn’t help but grin in amusement. “Dude.”
Rick shrugged. “What can I say, you can take the player out of the game…” He winked. “So what happened with your girl? Did she ask for a relationship and you turned her down?”
“No.” Surprisingly, no. Alyssa had not asked him for something he couldn’t give her. Or rather, she had, but there was nothing romantic about it. If he had to be honest, Prince was a little disappointed.
“Then what’s the trouble?”
Prince hesitated. He looked around and discovered it was only the two of them in the bar now. Greg didn’t seem to be in a hurry to close up though, and he appeared content as he read a book while sitting at a table in one corner—far enough away that he was almost certainly out of earshot.
Nonetheless, Prince lowered his voice further as he said, “She says she came back to get me out.”
Rick almost choked on his beer. He fumbled with the glass before he finally managed to put it safely back down on the counter. His hazel eyes were wide. “What?” he hissed. There was an appalled look on his still-bruised face.
“Yep.” Prince looked down at his empty glass and fervently wished it was full. He resisted the temptation to ask for more.
“What did you say?”
“I told her to stay out of it and go back to Canada.” Prince cringed at his own words.
Rick whistled softly and toasted him with his glass. “Nice going.”
Prince huffed. “Well, what was I supposed to say? ‘Sure, go ahead, get yourself killed for me?’”
“You’re so melodramatic. Are you sure you’re not gay?”
Prince glared at him. “You know I’m right.”
“Maybe,” Rick conceded.
And yet it wasn’t enough of a concession to Prince. “What do you mean, maybe?”
“I’m just saying, maybe your girl’s got a plan.”
“She’s not my girl,” Prince corrected quickly. Too quickly. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he allow himself to even go into hypotheticals? “And whatever her plan is, provided that she even has one, I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Why not? It could be your way out.”
“I don’t want a way out!” Prince cringed at the loud sound of his voice then and immediately dropped it back to a near-whisper. “I don’t want a way out,” he repeated. “Not if it comes at the cost of someone else’s life.”
Rick stared intently at him. “What makes you so sure that it’s gonna end that badly? She seems smart. I’m sure she thought things through.”
“Whatever she has thought up, it just can’t be good enough. She doesn’t know Bennie or the club. He’s paid her a visit already.”
Rick scowled in sudden concern. “Bennie’s been to see her?”
“Yes. Almost as soon as she got back to town for her parents’ funeral, too. He knew she’s my weakness.” The admission came easy and unbidden, and Prince decided to ignore it—just as he decided to ignore the grin that flashed across Rick’s lips. “He told her to stay away from me, or else. In a nutshell.”
His hand had curled into a tight fist, so much so that his knuckles had gone white. The thought of Bennie threatening Alyssa still filled him with a rage so fierce that it was almost blinding.
“That’s not good,” Rick admitted.
“So you see now?” Prince said. “She’s already on his radar. I have to push her away.”
Rick nodded. It was clear that his friend didn’t like it, but then again neither did Prince. Still, they both knew how things worked.
They stayed at the bar for only a few minutes longer after that. Prince had known many long nights over the past eight years, and yet this one felt like one of the longest. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t unplug his mind and get Alyssa out of his head. He thought about her all the way home, and he continued to think about her while he got cleaned up and took care of his cuts and bruises. He was still thinking about her by the time he finally went to bed.
Knowing that he wouldn’t get far in his mission to think about something else, Prince gave in and let his mind wander.
He had not expected her to ever come back into his life, and he certainly had not expected her to come back like this—with the grace of a feather and the force of an erupting volcano. Try as he might to move on, he had never quite stopped thinking about her over the years. He had fantasized about her. He had tried to imagine what it would feel like to be inside of her and have her clenching around him. Now that he knew, she had become like a drug. He dreamed about her at night, and when he did, he woke up with the mother of all morning woods. She was intoxicating, and it wasn’t just about her body.
It was about her mind, too. Her beautiful, sharp mind. It was about the fierceness that sparkled in her blue eyes. It was about the killer confidence she had in herself and—God only knew why—in him. Prince could tell that Alyssa really believed he could be saved. But he knew better.
Of all the things he may have expected to hear about her returning to Pinebrook even after her parents had been put to rest, never in a million years would he have imagined her to be there to be a hero. He wasn’t going to let her put her plan into action, of course—whatever her plan was. Because he was pretty sure that, despite her determination, Alyssa still had no idea how to go about her intentions. There was no way she had a clue on how to go around Bennie Lenday and the Devil’s Fighters.
Prince knew one thing that Alyssa didn’t: It couldn’t be done. He had learned that much over the years. He had seen what happened to those who tried to defy the club or ignored their warnings. It wasn’t pretty. In fact, there had been a couple of “punishments” that still kept him awake at night. He wasn’t going to let that happen to Alyssa.
He took a deep breath. His mind was spinning. It had been eight years, and even though their connection was still obviously very strong, he had to admit that he didn’t know her. They had both grown in
to very different persons than what they used to be, and he didn’t know this Alyssa any better than she knew this him. She may not have a clue about how to go around the motorcycle gang that ruled their hometown, but in turn, Prince didn’t have a clue about how to convince her to let it go. He didn’t know how to get into her head and persuade her to follow his advice and just leave.
Because although he didn’t know her that well anymore, he still knew her enough to know that his little outburst from tonight would not be enough to push her in the direction of safety. Alyssa would not give up that easily, and he both loved and hated her a little for it. She was always his number one cheerleader, and it looked like that—at least—had not changed.
But it would have to. Prince knew he didn’t deserve to be thought of as someone who had any quality in him. He had tried very hard to stay the same person he was when he first started fighting, but it just wasn’t realistic to think that it could be done. This life changed him. It brought on the kind of darkness that stuck to him like the Louisiana heat and got under his skin—and it would stay there.
The darkness that had gotten a hold of Prince over the past eight years never left him. It was with him every day. It was his constant and most faithful companion. Over time, he had learned to accept it. He had learned that resisting the darkness only brought it on stronger and meaner. He had learned that he simply could not be the same person. He couldn’t be the boy he had been when he had first started out.
Over the years, Prince had learned that if he was to have any chance at survival he would have to shed himself. And so he did. He left pieces behind little by little, taking them off and then forgetting about them—or trying to. They would come back—sometimes. They would try to find him again, but they never stuck; they would slip away, overthrown by the darkness.
Prince had tried to find light in this life, too. There had to be light, somewhere. He had found it in Rick, who was a good man, and in a few others whose souls weren’t as black as those of the actual members of the Devil’s Fighters. But that light was never enough to keep the darkness at bay. The more time passed, the more Prince found himself turn to stone. He was incapable of some of the emotions that had been his everyday companions once, so long ago that he had almost forgotten.
He had thought he would also be incapable of love, but Alyssa had proven him wrong on that one. He hated that. He had hoped he would not be able to love, because love was simply not an option for a Devil’s Fighter—actual member or otherwise. Benedict “Bennie” Lenday demanded full focus, especially from his actual fighters, the men who stepped into the rings. He didn’t tolerate any distractions.
And Alyssa was the mother of all distractions. She had only been back two weeks and already Prince couldn’t think of anything or anyone else. It was all about her. He knew he couldn’t have that, but he couldn’t help it. He had wanted her for eight years. He had longed for her. He had dreamed about her coming back someday.
Now that she was back, Prince didn’t know how to deal. He had seen it all in eight years. He had seen so much that he had become arrogant enough to believe that he would now be able to deal with anything that life threw at him. But he had not been prepared for Alyssa. She was a blessing, and she was a curse. She was everything that Prince wanted and that he couldn’t have. She was his dream and, in a way, his nightmare. She was his friend, and she was his nemesis.
She was everything. She had always been everything.
But things were different now—horribly different. Prince couldn’t allow her to be the center of his world like she used to be. He couldn’t allow her to have any role in his life.
He would find a way. Just as it had happened before, he didn’t have a choice—it was either push away the woman he loved or watch people get hurt. Story of his life.
Chapter Nineteen
Alyssa had debated with herself for quite some time before she decided to do what she was doing now. She had tossed and turned for most of the night, thinking about Prince’s words and his story. No matter how hard he tried to push her away or intimidate her, there was no way she was going to let him rot in Pinebrook any longer.
The idea had come to her during the night. She didn’t particularly like it, but in the end she decided it may truly be a good place to start after all. Besides, she suspected she wouldn’t like pretty much anything about going behind the back of the most ruthless motorcycle gang in the area.
Prince’s father lived in a rundown house on the outskirts of town. Alyssa’s heart was beating like a war drum in her chest as she drew up to it, and it didn’t stop when she got out of the car and walked up to the decrepit front porch. She had not seen the man in eight years, and even back then she had hated it every time she would get to see him, whether in this house or because she just ran into him somewhere. He had a reputation for being violent and unpredictable, and even the adults steered as clear from him as much as possible.
Alyssa had hated that man for a very long time for all that he had ever done to Prince. She hated him even more now. What kind of man let his son throw away his life and enter an illegal fighting ring to pay off his own gambling debts?
She took a deep, calming breath. She knew she had to play this just right. She couldn’t screw it up. And that meant that she would have to suppress her hatred and disgust and keep her temper in check. It would not be easy.
She knocked on the door and waited. And when nothing happened she knocked again. And again.
When the door finally opened, Alyssa had to do a double take. The man that stood—or rather, hunched—in front of her had little to do with the man she remembered. Philip Wheeler had been a drunk on the path to destruction, but still he carried himself with some dignity. His back was straight and his shoulders were squared. This man was something different. His brown hair had gone completely gray. He stood hunched in over himself, as if he couldn’t carry his own weight anymore. His muscular figure had become floppy. His gray eyes used to be unfocused with the anger that was eating him up inside—now they were just dark with sadness. His features were etched with lines that used to barely be there.
It looked like a lifetime of alcohol abuse had finally caught up on him and his body. Alyssa felt almost sorry for him. Almost.
“Hello, Mr. Wheeler.”
He peered at her from under grayed eyebrows. “Who are you?”
Alyssa blinked. She had not expected that, but she supposed it was only fair; it had been eight years after all. “It’s Alyssa. Alyssa Kelley.”
He stared at her like he didn’t believe her, and then recognition finally struck. “Alyssa!” he said. “Wow. You’ve grown up.”
Oh, you have no idea, Alyssa thought fiercely. She bit her lip and forced out a smile that she could only hope didn’t look as strained as it felt.
“I came by to thank you,” she said. “For the flowers and everything.”
It made for the perfect excuse to come and see the man. The day of her parents’ funeral, Philip had sent flowers and a note of condolences her way, along with a tuna casserole, because nothing said “I’m sorry” like a casserole.
He looked at her in confusion. “I didn’t send anything,” he said. “Which I regret,” he added as an afterthought. “Your folks were good people.”
It was Alyssa’s turn to be confused. “But…if you didn’t send those, then who did?”
Philip shrugged. “It must’ve been Prince.”
“The note bore your signature only.”
“He must’ve thought he didn’t want his old man to look like a prick after all,” the man guessed. “I guess it was nice of him to include me.”
“But he didn’t send anything.”
“He didn’t?” Philip laughed roughly. “What an asshole.”
Alyssa’s jaw clenched. She gritted her teeth so hard she could almost hear them clashing against one another.
“Well, thank you anyway,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm and casual. “I’m sure you would’ve sent
something yourself if you could.”
“That makes one of us.”
Old age had apparently brought an abrasive quality to the man. He spoke the truth now, and it was caustic. Alyssa wasn’t sure whether she liked this version Philip better than the old one.