by Cecy Robson
He left Dee after another hug and walked to me. It was then I saw tonight’s ring girl trailing behind him. I’d never been in a fight in my life. But do you know what? If she had kept following Teo, I would have throat-punched her.
Mateo’s temple had begun to swell. He’d have a nice bruise by morning and probably part of a black eye. His knife wound oozed blood, but the surgical glue had managed to keep the skin together. It killed me to see him hurt―to fight this hard and risk permanent injury for money―it all just felt so wrong.
Teo leaned in to kiss me, pausing when he took in my face. He whispered in my ear, “What’s wrong? You look pissed.”
I crossed my arms. “Can you take me home?”
“What?”
I looked around at the gathering crowd, who were taking turns slapping his back like he was their hero. In a way, I suppose he was. He’d helped Dee, and probably a lot more. But that didn’t make me any happier. “Please just take me home,” I said again.
Mateo rubbed his jaw. That was swelling, too. “After Dee collects. We can’t let her walk out with all her cash alone.”
I nodded and sat. He left me, glancing back once on his way to the locker room. He returned a short time later with a black gym bag, wearing his jeans and the long-sleeved gray T-shirt he’d arrived in. He sat next to me when Dee abandoned her chair to collect her money with Ant and Big Chris.
Mateo slid an arm around me as the next match started, a super heavyweight bout between two men the size of cars. He seemed hesitant to hold me. I wasn’t mad, not really, and showed him by leaning my head against his shoulder. His hold on me strengthened when I draped my arm across his belly.
True to his word, we left as soon as Dee returned. Everyone had parked in the church lot. Teo waited for Ant and Chris to pull onto the street with the girls and followed them out of Philly. It wasn’t until we hit the highway that Mateo and I spoke.
“I brought you with me tonight because I thought you’d like to watch me fight. I guess I fucked that up, huh?”
I angled my chin his way. “No. It’s not that.”
“Then why are you so upset?” He returned his attention ahead. “Most girls think it’s hot that I’m a fighter. Especially when I pummel some guy’s ass.”
He wasn’t bragging. I could sense his genuine confusion. I realized then he’d only meant to impress me. “I just don’t like watching you get hurt,” I said. My finger swept over his bruised skin. “Even when you win.”
He reached for my hand and kissed my knuckles. Shit. Mateo Tres Santos had all the right moves. For a second, I couldn’t remember my own name. He lowered our hands, keeping them between us. “I won’t take you back,” he promised.
I stared at the cars ahead. “But you’re still going to fight.”
“It’s how I make money. I wait till the pot is high and go for it. The legit fights are hard to get into. There’s a lot of competition. It takes a long time to get noticed. And the pay? It’s practically nothing.”
“But it’s safer.”
Mateo shrugged. “A punch to the gut hurts all the same. I’d rather get paid.”
“And I’d rather you not get injured.”
“Evie, I risk that at the club. It’s no different. Besides, bashing heads is what I’m best at. Look at what I do every time I’m at Excess.”
Maybe handing out beatings was what Mateo thought he was good at. But when I thought about how he led his crew, and as I felt his hand around mine, I knew he was wrong.
Chapter Eight
It was after one in the morning when we arrived back at Elaine’s. Because of the hour and Mateo’s lack of faith in my Cherokee, he insisted on following me home. I didn’t mind. Mostly, I was glad he still wanted to spend time with me. I supposed he’d expected me to straddle him after his fight for beating his opponent, and for emerging as the winner even after being choked. Maybe that’s what Ring Girl would have done. It just wasn’t in me, at least not for those reasons.
I pulled into our small lot. Mateo followed me in with his black Explorer, parking in the section closest to the house. He reached for my hand when I stepped out of my car. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the door.”
My grip held him in place. My classes had kept us apart for the last few days. And yeah, I had clinical the next day. But I wasn’t ready to sleep. Maybe I needed something more. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”’
He cocked his head to the side. “You want me to?”
His sexy voice made me smile. No way could I say good night to that so easily. He took my backpack out of my free hand and flung it over his shoulder.
We were walking along the cracked sidewalk to the wooden porch steps when Lourdes hurried out with her girlfriend. Her clinical had been canceled because of her group’s upcoming project. I guessed she was celebrating with her girlfriend and they were heading over to her place.
Lourdes almost tripped down the steps when she saw us. I hoped she wouldn’t embarrass me.
So much for friggin’ hope.
“Hey, Lourdes. This is Mateo. Teo, this is my roommate.”
Teo gave a stiff nod in the form of a greeting. Lourdes? She just stared at first. Then she looked at me. “This is Mateo?” she asked.
My cheeks heated, worried where she was headed. “Yes.”
With absolutely no shame whatsoever, she ambled forward until she was practically on top of him. She eyed him from head to toe, taking in every last hulking inch of muscle. She even pointed at him. “This. Is. Mateo?”
He chuckled. I clenched my teeth. “Yes, Lourdes.”
She laughed. “Nena, you are in serious trouble.”
Her girlfriend didn’t appreciate Lourdes appreciating Mateo and hauled her away.
“Sorry about that,” I told Mateo. He didn’t reply, but I could tell he was amused.
I unlocked the door to our small foyer and waited for him to pass before locking it behind me and heading up into our small apartment.
“Have a seat.”
Teo left my bag on the floor as he sat on the couch and I fumbled in the kitchen. “This is nice,” he said.
I filled a plastic bag with ice. “No, your place is nice. This place is just clean and affordable.”
“I’m over a garage.”
“A modernized garage,” I pointed out. “With nicer things.” I wrapped the bag with a clean dish towel and went to his side. “Here, put this against your temple. It will help with the swelling.”
He covered my hand that held the ice pack and placed it over the side of his head. “Can’t, I’m too tired.” His fingers played over mine. “Maybe you should do it for me.”
I smiled and touched his face. He had a few cuts on his forehead and temple that needed attention. “After I fix you.” I kissed his lips. A week ago, I never would’ve thought to be so bold. Especially with him. And especially alone. Now, it was easy…and something I wanted to keep doing. Except there was something more important just then. Him. “I’ll be right back.”
I squealed when Teo slinked his arm around my waist and hauled me back. “Come on, Evie. Stay with me.”
My neck arched when he kissed his way down to its base. “You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?” I said.
“Mm-hmm.” He continued. Or at least he tried to until I broke free.
I jumped away from him when he tried to snag me again, and backed into the bathroom. “Not this time, Teo.”
When I returned, I moved our side table closer to him and placed our first aid kit over it. Mateo kept the ice on his face. As he watched, I knelt in front of him and began to work. “Look at you being a nurse already,” he murmured.
The deep thrum in his voice affected me in all the right ways. I tried not to let it show, but the heat prickling my skin wouldn’t allow it. “It’s nothing, really.” I dabbed a few cotton balls with antiseptic, giving my body a moment to chill. “I volunteered at a camp for autistic children last semester for extra credit. Spent two weeks tendin
g to scraped knees, lots of cuts, and weird gooey rashes.”
He made a face. “Thanks for sharing.”
I laughed and began cleaning the spray of cuts the Assassin’s fists had caused. They weren’t deep, and they weren’t bleeding, but they needed cleaning. Mateo leaned forward, making it easy for me to reach. “You like kids?” he asked.
I nodded. “I do. The kids I worked with were really sweet, just in need of care and attention. I also like old people.” I smiled remembering the little old lady I’d cared for during my first clinical. “They have so much history. A lot of stories to share.”
“Yeah. Old people are cool. But I have a soft spot for kids.”
I squirted some antibacterial ointment on a swab when something occurred to me. “Do you have any?”
“Any what?”
“Kids?”
His hand stroked my forearm, making it hard for me to apply the ointment. “No. None. The way I see it, if you have someone calling you Daddy, you’ve gotta man up and be everything to that kid. I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility, so I’ve been careful. You feel me?”
A memory of my father working in his home office came into view. But unlike my recollection of the little old woman, this one didn’t make me smile. He was on a call, laughing with a business associate. His expression changed when he saw me walk in. I’d just arrived from cheerleading practice and was still in my uniform; my face was flushed and I was panting with excitement. I’d made head cheerleader and couldn’t wait to share my news.
I pressed my lips tight. I never imagined he’d kill himself. But he had.
“Evie?”
“No, you’re right,” I answered, trying to recall the last thing Mateo had said. Luckily, I remembered before I tripped over my words too much. “When you have a baby, you’re no longer number one. He—or she—should be your top priority. I’ve heard Dee, how she struggles. It’s not easy and not something I want until it’s the right time.”
I searched his face. Multiple bruises marred his strong features, but he didn’t so much as flinch when I touched his skin. Mateo was a man used to pain. He must’ve had one hell of a life. “I’ve seen you after your fights before. This was pretty bad, even for you. Wasn’t it?”
He grinned. “You’ve been checking me out?”
I nibbled on my lip, but couldn’t directly face him. “I’ve noticed you before. It’s kind of hard not to.”
“But you were scared of me.” He tossed his bag of ice on the table.
“Yeah. I was.” I repacked the first aid kit, careful to return everything to its proper place. I’d always been organized, but I also needed to buy a little time, knowing what was coming next.
Mateo’s heavy hand skimmed down my back. “Are you afraid of me now?”
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “No. Not really.”
“Then come show me.”
I rose to stand between his legs. His hands rubbed my outer thighs, massaging all the way up to my hips. His hazel eyes sizzled, watching me as he clasped my wrists and pulled me down to him. Slowly he leaned back and drew me down on top of him, our breaths hitching when my chest connected with his. In lying beneath me, he made himself vulnerable to me. Maybe it was his way of easing any of my remaining apprehension.
But I didn’t want to be on top.
So as we kissed, and my arms eased around his neck and his hands wandered down my backside, I turned him on the tiny couch until I bore his full weight.
Mateo wriggled above me, spreading my legs and encouraging me to fasten them around his waist. I tilted my pelvis back and forth, gasping as his body ground against mine and his tongue traced along my ear. This was more than we’d done before.
And I was ready for it.
The friction increased between my legs, his motions making my already sensitive parts throb. I groaned, my nails digging into his shoulders. “You like this?” he rasped.
My head fell back. “Yes.” To prove it, I adjusted my hold and rubbed harder against him. At first, I didn’t recognize the feeling that was building. But then I felt it all at once. I cried out, driving Mateo crazy. His body moved faster against mine, drawing out every shudder, every sensation, every scream.
As he slowed, I realized I wasn’t the only who’d enjoyed the contact between us.
He panted and pushed up on his elbows, staring down at me with desire. “Damn” was all he said.
—
All the waitresses gathered on bar stools around Sam. The bouncers, bartenders, and our DJ formed an arc behind us, with Mateo standing directly behind me. We waited to see what Sam’s latest and greatest staff meeting was about, some of us more patiently than others.
Mateo had watched me when I arrived in my thigh-high boots and tiny uniform, but he made no moves to say hi, even when I smiled shyly his way. The bruises on his face had lightened over the last two weeks. There were barely any traces of his match or his brawl with the dealer.
Aw hell, he looked good. I’d missed that face, and those guns wrapped around me.
Aside from our time at Excess, I hadn’t seen him. His responsibilities at Elaine’s and the club and my growing pile of assignments had pried us apart. Yeah, he’d text. And yeah, we’d talk on our cells. But it wasn’t the same. We hadn’t touched or really connected since our time on my couch.
Mateo had asked me out a few times that first week. But each time he asked, I had lecture, or lab, or clinical to prepare for. Finally he stopped asking. I thought maybe he’d lost interest. Especially since he had Ant walk me out the other three shifts I’d worked. So when he’d tugged on my ponytail as he positioned himself behind me tonight, it was all I could do not to tackle-hug him.
My body heated at the thought of being alone with him again. And I was ready to do more than kiss and writhe beneath him.
“Welcome to Friday night,” Sam said, in a way that clearly sounded like he didn’t mean it. “Because of the shooting the other week, from now on we’ll have police protection every Friday and Saturday night.” He motioned to the cop beside him. “This is Pete McQueen. He’ll be armed and in uniform. Mateo, as always, will lead security.”
Dee raised her hand beside me. “Then what’s Pete for?”
“For any weapons shit and the asshats you catch snorting coke in the bathrooms.”
“But he’s just one guy,” Noelle pointed out.
“No shit, Christmas,” Sam spat.
A few of the waitresses exchanged confused glances.
“Officer McQueen stays at the door with two to three of my crew,” Mateo explained. “His primary job is to serve as a deterrent and to watch for weapons. The bouncers are still the eyes of the club. We’ll gauge if there’s something really up or if someone is trying to create a distraction for something bigger. Keep a direct line between me and the crew and we’ll take care of the rest.”
“So the cop will always have the door?” someone else asked.
“And eighty bucks an hour,” Sam muttered under his breath. Pete saluted us with a smile. He’d liked the sound of that. The waitresses started to stand, thinking our meeting was over. “Where the hell are you going? I didn’t say I was done!” Sam barked.
Noelle rolled her eyes and slumped back down. “Get on with it, Sam. We still have booths and bathrooms to clean.”
Sam grinned. Kind of like a possessed doll who’d try to kill you with a cleaver. “As you know, all these rich pricks like their shots. And the bastards like them quick.”
“And?” Dee asked.
Sam scowled. “And we’re taking too much goddamn time to deliver them, and time is money—that’s what. Introducing Shot Girl.” He motioned to the door leading to the storage room. We all turned in that direction. Nothing happened, ruining Sam’s big intro and good cheer. “Mother’s ass, I said, ‘Introducing Shot Girl!’ ”
The door swung open, and out marched Sam’s surprise.
“Hot damn,” Ant muttered.
Shot Girl was actually Cand
y Lynn. Candy Lynn had boobs that would shame most melons. Candy Lynn was one of our more slutty waitresses. Candy Lynn made the most tips. We hated Candy Lynn.
A few of the bouncers actually wolf-whistled―Officer Pete included―as Candy Lynn runway-strutted, I shit you not, toward our gathered group. Thankfully, Mateo was not among them. The reason I knew was because I turned around to make sure.
Candy Lynn didn’t dress in our standard uniform, not really, unless you counted our damn hooker boots and the tiny black shorts she’d stuffed her round ass into. A black sports bra replaced her tank, reducing her F’s to large D-pluses. Two long blond braids poked from beneath a black cowboy hat. But she wouldn’t have been Sam’s shot girl without another speck of class. The gun holsters at her hips held bottles of Patrón and Grey Goose, and the extra one added below her exposed belly button secured a can of whipped cream. She turned to wiggle her ass and her bottle of Baileys.
“As you can see, Shot Girl will mostly do top-shelf liquor.”
Candy Lynn reached between her breasts to remove one of the many shot glasses shoved into the bullet holsters that crisscrossed her chest. She poured some Baileys into it and topped that with whipped cream. “I do Blow Jobs, too,” she mused, toasting Mateo.
“Yeah, we know,” I hissed back.
“Oh!” the crowd around me yelled.
I didn’t catch Mateo’s reaction. I was too busy meeting Candy Lynn’s glare. Sam had really done it this time. And he didn’t friggin’ care! He rubbed his hands together and continued. “Shot Girl will spend the shift roaming table to table, easing the waitresses’ load.”
“And cutting into our tips,” Noelle pointed out, her red hair practically fuming.
The rest of the waitresses collectively muttered. Sam held out a hand, quieting everyone. “There are too many tables for one shot girl. So I need two more. One takes the opposite side, the other the VIP section.”