by West, Dahlia
“Jonah,” she whispered.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
“I…”
He hesitated, his fingers tightening on the waistband of her pants. “You don’t want to do this? We don’t have to.” He started to pull away, but she grabbed his wrist.
“No, no, it’s just… it’s just that…”
“Sienna,” he said, getting worried now. “What’s wrong? Tell me now.”
She took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes. “I waited.”
Jonah didn’t move. Perhaps he didn’t even breathe.
“I waited for you,” she told him.
He never would’ve asked it of her, never would have dared, but the fact that she did anyway had his heart close to bursting. He closed his eyes, waiting for his pulse to settle.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” he replied. “Believe me. I’m more than okay.” He opened his eyes slowly and peered at the vision perched on his lap. He licked his lips and flexed his fingers. He took one deep breath, then another, steadying himself.
“Will you go slowly?” she asked him.
“You don’t have to ask me that. Just tell me you want me, baby.”
She bit down on her lip as she looked at him. Finally, she said, “I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
He nodded and reached for her waistband again. “Okay, then. Hold on to me, Sienna. I’ll take care of everything else.”
She laid her head on one of his shoulders and gripped the other.
Jonah dipped into her panties, moving slowly. The pads of his fingers brushed her swollen hood. He pressed down on it, just for a second and she gasped. He kept going, though, parting her folds. He groaned when he discovered she was already wet for him.
He traced slow, lazy circles around her entrance, rubbing it, teasing it.
“Jonah!” she whined.
“Shhh. I don’t want to hurt you.” He could ram it in, like a fucking high-school kid on his first date, but Sienna had spared herself that indignity up to that point and there was no way in hell he was going to be the one to do it now. He cupped her pussy in his palm and slicked his finger in her juices. When she was clawing at him, mewling desperately, he slid one finger in.
God, it was a little tight, but she seemed okay. Her hips rocked into his hand, urging him on. Jonah nipped her earlobe and sucked it into his mouth. When he released it, he asked, “You finger this pussy, Sienna? In your bed at night?”
“Yes,” she gasped and gripped his wrist tightly.
“You think about me?”
“Yes!”
“Every time?”
“Yes! Oh, God. Yes. Every time! You’re all I think about!”
“That’s my girl,” he whispered and flicked her clit with his thumb.
She came then, writhing in his lap. Her thighs clamped together, pinning his hand.
He let her ride it out with his mouth over hers to cover the noise.
She collapsed against him, fighting for breath. Jonah held her close and buried his face in her neck. She was a mess, hair and sweat sticking to her skin.
Jonah loved it.
“I told you I’d take care of you,” he whispered.
Oddly enough, the movie was over. Jonah marveled at where the time had gone when he put the car in gear and pulled out of the drive-in lot.
Sienna sat slumped in the passenger seat, grinning and blushing furiously.
He drove to her house, pulled up to the curb, and ordered her to wait. He skirted around the front of the Toyota, opened her door, and took her hand as she stepped onto the curb. He laced his fingers with hers and walked with her to the front door of her house.
The lights were off. Linda wasn’t home yet.
“So,” he asked, as they climbed the steps, “what do you think about the car?”
Surprisingly, she bit her lip and began chewing it instead of answering.
Jonah’s heart fell. He frowned. “What’s wrong with it? You don’t like it?”
“No!” she argued. “It’s fine. It’s nothing. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
She sighed. “Well, I don’t care,” she told him. “Honestly, I don’t.”
“But…”
“Well,” she said and looked at him sheepishly under her lashes, “okay, I sort of pictured you in a car like Adam’s.”
“A muscle car.”
She nodded. “Something more… Or possibly less…” Her voice trailed off again.
“That’s the only problem?”
“Yeah,” she said glumly. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he told her. “That’s actually not a problem.” He gently opened her palm and slid the keys into it.
Sienna blinked down at them. “What—?”
“The car is yours,” he told her. “I bought it for you. I wanted to take it for a long drive, though, before I handed over the keys. Just to make sure it runs well. Seems to. If you run into any problems, though, let me know and I’ll have Emilio look at it.”
She stared at the keys in her hand. “You bought me a car,” she said numbly. Then she looked up at him. “You bought me a car?!”
“I don’t like you sharing a car with your mom. I don’t like you taking the bus to work on days when she needs it. There are creeps out there. And you have to wake up too early and get home too late. I don’t like that, either.”
She shook her head slowly. “I… I don’t know what to say. I mean, thank you, obviously. But, Jonah…” She tried to hold the keys out to him. “There’s no way I can—”
Jonah pushed her hand away. “Consider it a selfish move, Sienna. I want to spend more time with you and I can’t do that if you’re on the damn bus.”
“But, Jonah, you can’t—”
Jonah leaned in and put a finger under her chin. He lifted her face and met her gaze with his own. “Sienna, what you gave me tonight, what you’re going to give me—very, very soon—I’d give anything for that. Any amount of money. Anything I owned. This car is yours. Because I am yours. Nod for me if you get that, baby.”
She stared at him, blinking a few times. Then, slowly, she nodded. Her hand tightened on the key ring. “O-okay.”
He kissed her then. Lightly, because he’d already had one hell of a night with her. His fingers brushed her cheek and then he waited for her to disappear inside and lock the front door. He crossed the lawn to the Stark house, to his Harley parked outside.
He needed another fight. He had more money to make. Because he wasn’t done with Sienna Rhodes.
Not even close.
As he drove across town, he let all the warmth of being with her seep out of his body. He needed to replace it with something harder, something stronger. He’d told the truth about the bus. He didn’t like Sienna taking it. But the whole truth was more complicated than that. Linda had cracked up that fucking Olds more than once. And the next time she went on a bender, she might total the damn thing. And then Sienna would be completely without transportation, and Jonah could not have that.
The darker truth was that if Linda didn’t get help, and sometime soon, she might not survive the inevitable untimely collision with an oak tree or, God forbid, another car.
Jonah parked the bike out of sight, half a block away, and strode purposefully toward yet another abandoned building that blighted Rapid City’s industrial landscape. Ducking inside, he threaded his way through a throng of drunken, celebrating spectators. They nodded to him, raised their fists and punched the air at the mere sight of him.
Jonah took a deep breath and let it out slowly, focusing on the duct-taped ring in front of him.
He knew what he was fighting for. He’d never let himself forget it. The fans might be cheering for him, North might be grinning at him, but Jonah had a job to do.
And he was about to clock in for work.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jonah stood nearly nose to nose with a guy sporting Marine Corps
tattoos and a shaved head. Big Mike certainly lived up to his name, if nothing else. The man was hard—ripped and sculpted—from hours put in at the gym. This was no farm-boy bolstered by beer and buddies. He had the dark, hard look of a man who considered fighting as serious and as vital as breathing.
North explained the rules, which were few and far between. “No groin shots. No eye-gouging. No going out of bounds.”
Big Mike grunted, which Jonah and North took for assent and just like that the fight was on.
Mike’s jabs were sharp—fast and accurate.
Jonah did his best to turn and deflect, but more of the blows landed than he’d like. His ears were ringing a bit, though that could have been from the roar of the crowd in such a small, enclosed space.
The Marine’s combinations were fierce, beating a tight staccato over Jonah’s torso. Pain radiated all over him as each blow landed harder than the last.
Jonah pushed off him, hurtling backward, out of reach. He reached the end of the line, the out-of-bounds tape, ducked and swiveled to avoid stepping out.
Big Mike anticipated Jonah’s maneuver though and countered with one of his own. His foot shot out and caught Jonah in the side of the head as he was bent over.
Jonah went down, rolled on his shoulder and popped back up quickly to avoid being pinned.
Mike had gone in to do just that and Jonah caught him with a jab behind the ear before jumping out of the way again.
They traded blows around the ring, kick after kick, jab after jab. Jonah’s arms felt encased in concrete. If Big Mike’s felt the same, he did a better job of hiding it.
Jonah’s next cross went wide and Mike shuffled in for a knee shot to Jonah’s kidney.
The crowd gasped, collectively feeling Jonah’s pain from the vicious blow.
Jonah pushed away again, staggering, unable to get his feet to cooperate.
Mike swooped in with a clean jab to the side of Jonah’s head.
Jonah fought every instinct to move away, draw it out. Realistically, he couldn’t last much longer.
And Big Mike knew it.
Instead of retreating, Jonah pushed off the balls of his feet and flung himself at the man. He snaked his right arm around Mike’s neck and locked it with his left. Then he cocked his hips and took both of them down to the ground. Jonah’s legs wrapped around Mike, locking ankles at the man’s front.
The concrete floor came up fast and hard. Jonah took all the man’s weight on top of him and struggled to maintain his hold.
Mike tried to roll, but Jonah’s knee prevented it. Flat on his back and panting hard, trying to block out the pain in his back, Jonah squeezed ever tighter, arms and legs, a sleek constrictor cutting off Mike’s air.
The large man struggled, clawing at Jonah’s arms, but his hands were gloved and he could find no hold good enough to pry himself loose.
Jonah grit his teeth and held on, unwilling to give up the one advantage he might ever get.
Mike threw an elbow, but it hit the floor with a sharp crack. Despite the searing pain he must have been in, the man arched his back, searching valiantly for a weakness in Jonah’s hold.
Jonah closed his eyes to block out everything around him. He wasn’t faster, or more skilled—in fact, in all aspects Jonah was outmatched by the man he had trapped on top of him. All Jonah had to rely on now was his strength.
It was a test of endurance now, nothing more, nothing less. Jonah’s arms began weakening as spots no doubt started to dance before Big Mike’s eyes. The only question was who would surrender first. Jonah grunted, squeezing hard, fighting to maintain the strength of the hold. He had to keep Mike immobilized, until he passed out or tapped out. Both men were exhausted, losing steam fast, prone to mistakes. It had to end now.
Mike stiffened, probably unwilling to scream, not wanting to lose precious oxygen from his lungs.
Jonah did scream, though, a fierce, primal noise. He couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t give up. He’d come too far, gotten too close to everything he wanted in life and he wouldn’t allow himself to lose it now, especially not due to weakness or temporary pain. Jonah fought—desperately—more against himself than with Big Mike, who was fading equally fast. Unbidden, her name rose up from somewhere inside him, got caught in his raw, ragged throat, and died on his lips as a whisper.
Like an oath or a spell, a word filled with power and Big Mike’s gloved hand found the concrete.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The crowd erupted. Jonah collapsed, releasing the former Marine, and dragging much-needed air into his own lungs as Big Mike also struggled to breathe.
North was screaming, but Jonah couldn’t make out the words. Hands grabbed him, squeezed him, shook him, but Jonah couldn’t fight them off. Suddenly, he was on his feet, dragged up by North, held by the large man and presented to the frenzied fans.
North’s voice cut through the buzz in Jonah’s brain, a low, half-whisper meant only for him. “Honestly, kid? I can’t believe you pulled that shit off.” He offered Jonah his hand, but Jonah ignored it; instead, he groped for his own front pocket. He didn’t reach in, merely patted the material that housed Sienna’s carefully folded photo.
Jonah stumbled back into his apartment just after sunrise. Every part of him screamed, railed against having to do anything but slip into unconsciousness. He gingerly slid his cell phone out of his pocket and fell back onto the bed. The mattress bounced from his weight. He waited, listening to the ringing on the line.
Sienna answered groggily, mumbling into the phone.
“Did I wake you?” he asked softly.
“No.”
The corners of Jonah’s mouth quirked up. “Liar.”
She yawned into the phone. “What’s up?”
Jonah closed his eyes and tried to ignore his battered body. “Nothing,” he told her. “I just wanted to hear what your voice sounds like when you wake up in the morning.”
She sighed happily. “If you were here right now, you’d know.”
The one part of Jonah that hadn’t taken a beating perked up at her words. He growled into the phone. “Don’t tempt me. I might come over there, crawl in bed with you, and never, ever leave.”
She giggled. “I would love that.”
“I would, too.”
He hung up, disappointed that he was in his own bed, alone. Hopefully, though, it would be one of the last few times he ever did that. He settled into the mattress and breathed deeply, tricking himself into smelling sandalwood. He drifted to sleep thinking of the way she felt on his lap, kissed his mouth like she was wild-hungry for him, the way she tightened up on his fingers, all the stuff pleasant dreams were made of.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jonah’s entire body was angry at him for being at the gym so soon after a fight that he’d nearly lost. But it was precisely because he’d almost lost that he was back at Chappie’s, working the heavy bag as best he could. Most of Big Mike’s shots had been body shots, so at least he wasn’t sporting any new, serious bruises on his face. Chappie noticed that Jonah was moving a bit slower today though, and for that reason Jonah steered clear of the old man during his workout.
When a shadow loomed beside him, Jonah was preparing excuses for why he was dragging ass today. He didn’t want to lie to the old man, but he knew Chappie didn’t approve of off-book fighting, especially with so few rules. He turned, lie on his lips, when he realized it was Emilio and not the old man.
Emilio was gaping at him. “You gave her a car!” He rolled his eyes to the sky. “Dios mio,” he muttered. “You know I’m going to have to get Ava something really special now. And I can’t afford a car. You’re expensive to have as a friend, cabrón. You set the bar too high. Damn. Where are you getting all this money, anyway? Your brother pay you that good to shove needles into people’s naughty bits?”
Jonah turned back to the bag and took a swing at it. “Shop’s doing pretty good,” he replied, which was true.
&nbs
p; “Uh huh,” Emilio said skeptically. “Anyway, I know a way to make some money and take you down a few pegs. Which’ll be fun on both counts.”
For a tense moment, Jonah thought Emilio was about to say he knew about the fights North organized, that he wanted a chance to make some cash on the side, too. But instead Emilio told him, “You know, every Thursday my boys play poker at Shooter’s house. The stakes are about medium, which is probably good since Slick’ll take most of your cash anyway and leave you feeling like you accidentally tongue-kissed your long lost cousin. Better you than me, though.”
Jonah laughed and took another swing at the heavy bag. “Yeah, Ava said she’d been a few times.”
“So, how about it? You and Sienna. Me and Ava. Daisy and Easy are on their honeymoon, so we’re short a few people. Could be fun.”
Jonah wiped his arm across his forehead and realized he’d never actually had fun before, other than hanging out with his own brothers from time to time. It might be interesting. And Sienna was probably used to things like that. “Sure,” he told Emilio. “I’ll bring her.”
“And all those Benjamins you’re hoarding,” Emilio reminded him.
Jonah ignored him.
“So, you’re really not going to tell me where you’re getting it?”
Jonah simply shrugged.
Emilio snorted. “Yeah, okay. I get it. Man of mystery. With money and looks. Well, at least we’re not competing for the same chick.”
Jonah smirked at him. “Don’t sell yourself short, Emilio. You’ve got great hair.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jonah wasn’t exactly sure what he’d been expecting when Emilio had said “Slick” was going to end up taking all their money. He hadn’t yet learned everyone’s nicknames (apparently everyone had one). But however he envisioned “Slick,” it surely wasn’t Shooter’s barely five-foot-tall, pretty little wife, who told them that she’d just put the baby down for the night while handing Jonah a huge bowl of chips. She passed Sienna a small bowl of dip.