Complicated Creatures: Part One

by Alexi Lawless

  Sam sipped it gratefully, glancing at his wristwatch.

  “I usually get up about this time. Thank you for this,” she smiled sheepishly, indicating the coffee. “Sorry I fell asleep, but thanks for carrying me in here. This bed is marvelous.”

  “No problem,” he answered. “It was the least I could do after you saved me from falling face first into the floor last weekend.”

  “Did you get any sleep?”

  He sighed happily. “Not long after you. Slept like a baby. Apparently, you’re my four-hour sleep cure.”

  “That’s not much, Jack,” she chided.

  He leaned forward, kissing her cheek and nudging her jaw with his nose. “That’s a lot for me,” he murmured into the shell of her ear, his breath soft.

  Sam shivered, nearly spilling the coffee. His hand clasped around the mug as he pressed another kiss to her temple before leaning back. She felt a little intoxicated from his proximity and the delicious, freshly showered scent of him.

  “You’re lovely in the morning,” he told her, his silver eyes soft. “All sleepy and disheveled. As much as I’d like to tumble you back into bed and keep you trapped in my penthouse all day, I have a breakfast meeting with the mayor, and he’s particularly irritable in the mornings.” He grinned.

  Sam felt the flush in her cheeks as she responded to a vivid mental image of her and Jack, tangled underneath cool linen sheets. “Don’t let me keep you,” she replied, taking a quick gulp of coffee to hide her sudden diffidence.

  Jack grinned at her, as if he could read her mind. As if he hadn’t put exactly what she was thinking in there. “You up for a little fun Saturday?”

  Sam watched him. “I don’t recall applying for any vacancies, Jack.”

  He smiled at her. “Maybe I’m applying for one.”

  She looked down, hiding between sips of coffee. “And if I don’t have anything open?”

  “Then I’ll take whatever I can get.” Jack placed a quick kiss on her shoulder. “Let me take that little red Corvette of yours out for a drive. No strings. Just the pleasure of each other’s company.”

  “Well I can’t very well allow you to take my car without me in it,” she responded.

  “And it’d be no fun to drive without you in it. Saturday—whaddya say?” he asked, full of charm.

  Sam thought about it briefly. “I should be free after about two o’clock.”

  “That works. Mitch and I were going to try this gym Carey was telling us about in the morning.”

  Sam nodded. “Yeah, it’s a converted warehouse over in West Loop. I’ll actually be there working out with the guys.”

  “It’s a fighters’ gym?” Jack asked, his brow furrowing.

  “Yeah. They have a lot of fighters, martial artists, ex-military, some cops. The owner is a friend of ours. He’s one of the coaches for the US Olympic Judo team.”

  “Am I gonna get my ass kicked?” he asked, only half-joking.

  Sam shrugged, hiding her grin in the mug. “Depends on what you like.”

  Jack leaned forward and kissed her lips before she could react, the firm pressure of his mouth sending a galvanic zing through her system. He stood up, buttoning his shirt. “I like you. And I’d like to see you in action now that I know you’ll be there. We can enjoy the day afterward.”

  “Jack,” Sam said as he moved to leave the room. He paused at the door, turning toward her. “I like you too,” she finished softly. “Even if I don’t have any vacancies at the moment.”

  *

  October—That evening

  Michigan Avenue, Chicago

  J A C K

  Rebecca pushed up to her tip-toes to kiss his mouth. Jack turned his face so her lips touched his cheek. She dropped back, momentarily surprised.

  “How was the day?” he transitioned smoothly, pulling out her seat. They had a corner table in the Signature Room on the 95th floor of the Hancock building. The sun had already set, leaving them with the glimmering lights of the Magnificent Mile on a perfectly cloudless night. She sat down, smiling when she saw the drink he’d already ordered for her.

  “Thanks, darling,” she said, slipping her hand over his. “After the day I’ve had, I needed one of these.” She sipped her margarita. Rebecca glanced at him. “You’re not drinking?”

  Jack shook his head. “Not tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “How’s the filming going?”

  “Good,” she nodded. “I think we should be done in a couple weeks. Today was a nightmare though. The director was in one of his moods…” she set her drink down. “But that’s not why you asked me here, is it?” She squared him with a direct look.

  Jack sipped his water, sitting back. “One of the many things I really like about you. You’re in a bullshit industry, but when you feel like it, you cut right to the chase.”

  “Can’t bullshit a bullshitter,” she shrugged. “Especially one from Hollywood. So why are we here tonight, Jack?”

  He reached for her hand. “You wanted to know where we were heading a few weeks back?”

  Rebecca tensed before waving her free hand airily. “It was an emotional moment. Let’s just chalk it up to that, hmm?”

  Jack brought her hand to his lips. “You’re a stunning woman, Rebecca,” he told her sincerely.

  After a moment, her blue eyes welled before she blinked the emotion back. The consummate actress.

  “But you’re not cut out for long-distance relationships,” she finished for him, squeezing her small hand around his.

  Jack nodded after a moment, setting her hand down on the table. He kept it loosely clasped in his.

  “Well, I’ll have to make the most of the last two weeks then,” she answered, her light voice not quite covering the tremor behind it.

  Jack squeezed her hand before releasing it. “Why prolong the inevitable, Rebecca?”

  She blinked, took a breath. “So…this is a breakup dinner?”

  He leaned forward, pushing her beautiful strawberry hair behind her shoulder. “No. This is a dinner between two friends who shared a wonderful summer together.”

  “I’m more than your friend, Jack,” Rebecca answered readily. “I’m in love with you.”

  Jack shook his head, his gaze steady. “No, beautiful. You’re not. When you leave Chicago, get back home, and start working on your next project, you’ll realize it.”

  “You can’t tell me how I feel, Jack,” Rebecca replied, a lone tear slipping down her cheek.

  He rubbed it away with his thumb. “You’re so passionate. So in the moment. It’s why you’re such a great actress. When you win an Oscar one day, I’ll be cheering from the bleachers.”

  Rebecca tucked her cheek into his hand. “I’m not pretending with you, Jack.”

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  They sat like that for a minute before Rebecca pulled back. “Shit,” she blinked, dabbing under her eyes. “You’ve gone and screwed up my mascara.”

  Jack chuckled. “You’re still gorgeous,” he assured her.

  She drank her margarita. “I’m gonna need like, five more of these.”

  He smiled at her. “You get whatever you want, beautiful.”

  “But I don’t get you,” she pointed out.

  Jack slanted her a smile. “Okay, you get almost everything you want.”

  Rebecca finished her drink. Ordered another. She watched him for a while. “Are you already seeing someone else?” she asked quietly.

  Jack shook his head.

  “Let me rephrase that,” she said. “Are you already seeing her?”

  “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. “The woman you were staring at the night of the benefit. The woman in the blue dress.”

  Jack shrugged. “Nothing’s happened.”

  “But you like her.”

  “I admire her,” Jack amended.

  “Why?”

  Jack thought about it. “She’s completely unl
ike anyone I’ve ever met. She doesn’t fit into any molds. And she’s fierce. She’s utterly fierce under all that cool demeanor.”

  “Oh my God.” Rebecca downed her second drink.

  “Okay, you’re going to have to slow down,” he told her. “You’re a buck twenty soaking wet. I don’t want to have to hold your hair back later.”

  “You’re in love with her!” Rebecca accused, pointing at him.

  Jack laughed. “No, I’m not.”

  “Then you’re a blind idiot. Because a man who talks about a woman like that more than admires her,” she informed him with the arch of her brow.

  “You asked.”

  “I did,” Rebecca replied, fiddling with the glass. “I just didn’t expect it to hurt so damn much,” she admitted, pressing her hand to her heart. “Jack—”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you mind if I skipped dinner? I don’t think I can sit here and pretend. I want to go hurt by myself.”

  Jack curled a hand on her arm. “Rebecca—”

  “Jack, please. Just…please.” She pulled away, standing. “I would slap you and flounce away dramatically, but I don’t think that’ll help.” Her smile was tremulous.

  Jack leaned down, brushing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re lovely, Rebecca.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered, pulling back.

  Rebecca closed her eyes. “No, you won’t.” She picked up her clutch, turned to go. Then she said, “But thanks for saying it.”

  Jack watched her leave.

  “Excuse my asking, sir, but was that Rebecca Holland?” the waiter asked when Jack asked for the bill.

  He nodded, looking out the window. “The one and only.”

  “You’re a lucky man,” the waiter complimented.

  And not for the reasons you think, Jack thought, signing the bill with flourish.

  Chapter 12

  October—Saturday morning

  West Loop, Chicago

  J A C K

  The gym Sam and her team went to was a massive refurbished warehouse in a revival area near downtown and Mitch’s loft in the West Loop. One side of the gym held boxing rings and an octagonal MMA cage, and the center of the warehouse was dedicated to huge canvas mats for various martial arts. Free weights, professional gym equipment, rowers, and ellipticals lined the other half of the gym. Nearly ninety percent of the people there were men—and tough-looking bastards at that.

  Mitch whistled softly beside him. “I don’t know whether to be turned on or scared for my life.”

  “A little of both,” Jack commented, watching men grappling on the mat while Talon and Rush looked intent on killing each other in one of the Octagons. “Either way, I’d say you need to keep your cock covered. Everyone in here looks like they’re training for Game of Thrones.”

  “You made it!” Carey called out, walking toward them in a stiff, white gi cinched with a black belt.

  “Yeah. That looks like the easy part,” Mitch murmured, glancing at the Octagon again. “It’s the surviving part I’m not so certain about.”

  Carey followed his gaze, “Oh, this is normal for them. They’re always pretty entertaining to watch,” he told them with a wide grin.

  As they neared the Octagon, Talon executed a nearly perfect stomach kick on Rush, knocking him back against the cage so hard that Rush probably saw birdies if he could even breathe. Rush doubled over with a grunt. As Talon advanced with a strong right cross, Rush slipped down to his knees, taking advantage of Talon’s momentum to grab his legs, tipping him back and knocking him down to the ground. Rush tried to pin him with a leg bar. Talon slipped out in the last moment, but not before Rush got a solid elbow into the inside of his thigh. Talon howled, punching Rush hard in the side of the head.

  “Who’s better?” Mitch asked.

  Carey shrugged. “Depends. Talon is a classic brawler with a heavy emphasis on kicking. Rush was a wrestler growing up, so he’s more a ground-and-pound kind of guy.”

  “How often do you guys train?” Jack asked.

  “Six days a week.”

  Mitch whistled.

  “And Sam?” Jack asked.

  Carey shrugged. “Depends on her travel. She teaches a lot now, but she still trains.”

  “What does she teach?” Mitch asked.

  “Judo. She’s been a Judo player since she could walk. Her father taught us,” Carey told them.

  “Who’s better? You or her?” Mitch asked brazenly.

  “Her.” Carey laughed. “Hands down. She can throw me across the room like I’m a Raggedy Anne doll. She’s mean too. Zero mercy.”

  Jack and Mitch’s brows raised. Carey was a behemoth. If he had no shame in admitting a woman nearly half his size could level him, she must be damn good.

  They watched the guys fight for a little while longer before Carey showed them around, introducing them to some of the professional fighters as well as the amateurs. The owner of the gym was a barrel-chested Asian whose biceps rivaled Carey’s despite the fact that he was nearly two feet shorter. He radiated a peaceful, happy aura, though Jack had no doubt he could dismantle a man with the effort he put into making a cappuccino.

  “Kim Sensei, these are the friends I was telling you about.” Carey introduced them, “Mitch Gartner and Jack Roman. They’re business partners and friends of ours. Looking to try out a little unconventional training,” he said, humor coloring his tone.

  “Nice meeting you two.” Kim Sensei smiled as they shook hands. “You ever tried a martial art competitively or are you just interested in training?”

  “Collegiate soccer is about as aggressive a sport as I’ve tried,” Mitch admitted.

  “Don’t let this one fool you,” Jack interjected drily. “I’ve seen him kicking in places no red card will ever justify. And I think I’ve taken an elbow or two in the face. He’s a menace, this one.”

  Mitch tried and failed to look wry before the facade collapsed into a crooked grin. “Says the guy who used to train with the best amateur boxing prospects in the Chicagoland area,” Mitch replied.

  Kim Sensei chuckled, leading them to toward the boxing rings. “When was the last time you boxed, Jack?”

  Jack shrugged. “On and off now but seriously training? It’s been a while. The training was just too intense, with work and other obligations,” he admitted.

  “How long you do it?” Carey asked.

  “Since I was a kid. Italian American leagues, that sort of thing,” he responded, watching the guys training on speed bags and punching bags hanging from heavy chains. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. Even the smell of a fighter’s gym—hard-earned sweat with the slight coppery tinge of blood and the leather scent of the bags. Jack realized how much he’d missed it.

  “We offer the more traditional fight training like boxing, Judo, Tae Kwon Do, and Muay Thai where you can join group classes, or we can tailor more specific training regimens for you based on your goals,” Kim Sensei explained. “Carey and Sam like their teams to focus on aspects unique to each individual, so each training session combines a variety of techniques. We assess them every week to see how they’re progressing, figure out what we might need to tweak or which instructors or training partners they might need to aid in their progress.”

  “Submit, you sonofabitch!” Rush shouted in the cage, interrupting Kim Sensei.

  Everyone turned toward the Octagon, watching Rush hold Talon down in a cradle pin, one arm wrapped around his right leg, the other pinning Talon’s left arm.

  “I will rip your off arm first and use it to beat you into submission,” Talon spat out through his mouth guard, struggling.

  “Now, boys,” Samantha drawled, strolling around the Octagon from the back of the gym wearing a heavyweight gi with a weathered red and white belt. “Finish up this match. Talon, I want you showered and in your gi in ten minutes. Eat a protein bar to get your energy back up. You’re wrestling with Simon. We’re working on your Jiu-Jitsu today,” she inform
ed him, tying her hair back in a tight knot.

  Rush eased back, and Talon pushed him off, disgusted. “You’re lucky she saved your ass,” Rush sniggered.

  “Bullshit,” Talon muttered, pulling off his half gloves.

  “Rush, you’re with Carey working on throws and sweeps,” Samantha told him before spotting Jack standing with Mitch and Kim Sensei. Her face broke into a grin and she strode over.

  “You came,” she said warmly, giving Mitch their customary cheek-kiss greeting and Jack a quick side hug. “What’ll you two be working on?”

  “I’ll be working on not getting my ass handed to me,” Mitch answered readily.

  “I’ve heard from Jack you’re quite the sneaky bastard, Mitch,” Samantha laughed. “I’m sure you’ve got a few very bad tricks up your sleeve.”

  Mitch peered at Jack. “You really need to stop spreading rumors about me.”

  “I speak the truth,” Jack retorted, holding his right hand up in Scout’s Honor.

  “Jack, why don’t you get back into the ring today?” Kim Sensei suggested. “See how it feels. It’s as good a place as any to start.”

  “You box?” Samantha asked, her brows up.

  Jack nodded. “Rusty, but yeah.”

  “That’s fantastic. It’s a great sport, and that explains the shoulders,” she observed, running her eyes briefly across his torso. Jack suddenly wanted to box a title fight to keep her eyes on him like that.

  “Mitch, since you’re new to this, why don’t you try martial arts? It’s more structured and focused on technique. Kim Sensei, are you teaching next?” she asked.

  “Good call,” he agreed, a smile on his kind face. “Why don’t we get you fitted for a gi and then you can try Judo? I’m teaching an all-levels class next. I’ll show you guys the locker room and you can get your gear sorted out before you begin training.”

  As Jack and Mitch moved to follow Kim Sensei toward the back of the warehouse, he caught Samantha’s eye while she leaned toward Carey to discuss something. She grinned at him.

  “Good luck,” she mouthed.