by Ashley, Ava
“Always, Lily, always.”
I know one thing for sure: Rafe was worth the wait. He’s worth everything, and now he’s mine and I’m his.
Epilogue
Lily
The beach is set again with a floral archway, but this time it’s on a beach in Costa Rica at sunset. Hundreds of candles give soft light all around the archway and down the aisle. Behind the tropical flowers, the sand stretches down to the soft waves. The sky is turning pink by the horizon and purple up above.
I look down the aisle to see Rafe waiting, his hands behind his back and a warm, loving smile on his handsome face. His eyes are glowing with happiness and so many emotions, and he looks so hot in a tux. The bottom of his pants are rolled up just a bit because he’s barefoot. We both thought we wanted to feel the sand under our feet, just like old times.
I chose a simple dress—it’s lacy around the top and flowing around my legs, perfect for a beach wedding. On my head, I wear a floral lace veil.
The wedding march starts and everyone turns to watch as I slowly walk forward, but I have eyes only for Rafe. His eyes and expression say “wow” at the sight of me.
From the corner of my eye, I see Kara smiling at me. She might be crying. Mic looks emotional too. We’re surrounded by all of our friends.
I reach Rafe and he takes a little step to meet me and plants a quick kiss on my lips. I laugh—it’s too early for that. But Rafe is a rule breaker. He takes the bouquet and tosses it to Kara so he can hold my hands. We wrote our own vows and Rafe goes first.
“Here I am with my friend, my love, my life partner. You’re the world to me, and I’m going to be there for you, and help you, and support you in all of your dreams. I love you, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.”
I’m crying by the time he’s done, and he reaches up to wipe the tears from my face.
He loves me. The moment is so perfect I feel like I’m floating. Rafe’s hands ground me, holding me steady as I recite my vows to him.
“You’re my best friend and protector. I admire you so much. I want to walk through life with you and share your wins, your losses, your passions, your dreams. I’ll laugh with you and be there when times are hard. Through everything, I’ll love you and be your partner.”
We exchange rings and my heart tries to fly away inside my chest as the pastor says, “You may kiss the bride.”
Rafe pulls me in, his hands cradling my head as he gently kisses me. I part my lips and he deepens the kiss. He kisses me like we’re starting the honeymoon already. Someone laughs and then everyone claps, and finally he pulls back and whispers, “I love you, Lily.”
“May I present Mr. and Mrs. Maddox!”
We turn to all of our friends and start down the aisle together. Rafe holds my gaze, his eyes gleaming. “This is the start of forever.”
***
It’s down to the last two minutes of the title fight and Rafe has taken a beating. But he’s given even more and Mariaso looks worn-out. They jab but I can tell they’re both getting too tired for that. Mariaso darts in and tries to get Rafe into a back control position, but Rafe flips him and pulls Mariaso into a choke. I cross my fingers. Maybe this it. Maybe Mariaso will pass out. Then he levers his leg and lands a backward punch into Rafe’s side, and breaks free.
They’re back to jabs and hooks until Rafe uses a spinning back kick to knock Mariaso onto his back. Rafe advances and backs him into his corner. He jabs—but it’s a decoy. Rafe immediately goes in close and locks his arms around Mariaso and sweeps Mariaso’s feet out from under him. They go down and Rafe puts his opponent into a side control.
I stand up, silent in the roaring auditorium, trying to see. The hold isn’t working and Mariaso will get free soon. Rafe rises up and maneuvers himself to put Mariaso into an arm bar. I hold my breath. Mariaso’s elbow can’t take any more! I can see his face contort. He doesn’t want to give up.
I actually start to feel a little sick. Tap out! Rafe doesn’t back off and the ref is right on top of them, ready to call it before Mariaso’s arm breaks.
Then he taps.
My breath rushes out. Rafe did it! He won! Of course he won!
We knew he would.
Everyone goes crazy. Mariaso sits on the mat, his shoulders slumped until his manager and the medics come check him out. Rafe paces and waits. Once Mariaso is up, the two men meet in the middle and embrace. Mariaso talks to Rafe for a moment before they bump fists and part. I’m glad he’s showing grace about losing. It surprises me after all of the smack talk.
The announcer takes their hands and then lifts Rafe’s as I scream and clap. His eyes search the front rows and land on me. He motions me forward.
I hurry to join him, climbing into the ring and throwing my arms around his sweaty body. There’s blood on his face but Mic is wiping at it.
“Good job, baby! I knew you’d do it.”
Someone pushes a mic into Rafe’s face. I step back to let him enjoy this, but he grabs my hand.
“I’ve trained and waited a long time for this moment,” he says. The auditorium quiets a little to listen. “And it’s all worth it because my wife is here by my side. Lily, I love you. You’ve showed me what true love is. We’re going to take on the world together, baby.”
I gaze up into his warm, loving eyes while he speaks. I’m too emotional to speak so I mouth, “I’m so proud of you, Rafe.”
“Proud of you, too.” He hands the mic back and wraps his arms around me. They’ll want to hear more from him but for now we ignore the thousands of people and cameras all around us and hang on to each other.
“You’re the reigning champ now.”
Rafe smiles even though he has a split lip. “I already had you, so this is icing on the cake.”
I just shake my head. This has been his dream for so long. But he’s right. Life would be empty without each other. I won the alpha, but he wins my heart over again every day.
The End
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ALPHA FIGHTER
The Complete Series
Alpha Fighter - The Complete Series
Copyright © 2014 Ava Ashley
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
BOOKS BY AVA
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Email: [email protected]
Website: www.avaashley.com
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ALPHA FIGHTER
Part One
Ava Ashley
Chapter One
Savannah
I certainly hope I'm not facing any competition for the room, though it sounds like enough of a dump for that not to be too significant of a concern. It would probably take someone as desperate, and broke, as I am to respond positively to a two-line roommate ad in the Sunday paper, consisting of the very eloquent ‘Small room, 1 window, no A/C. Quiet roommate wanted, not looking for a friend. $400/month.’ Alrighty, then. Thanks for being so welcoming, random dude. But I'm not looking to make friends either, so that works for me.
Anyway, my real criteria for a place starts and ends at ‘within my budget’ and that's quite laughably small. Who would have guessed that a few weeks living in a flea-bitten motel would suck up a girl's saving so quickly? Admittedly, it would be easier if I had a job. And getting a job as a minor? Pretty tricky without a parent's signature. Considering that Mom is in heaven and Dad probably wishes that I were in heaven, too, rather than single-handedly starting what's sure to be one of the bloodiest club wars in decades, that wouldn't have been so easy. My only choice was to stretch my savings as far as I could, pawn off my gold jewelry along the way, and stretch those pennies like the practical girl that I am. Practical as I am though, it's high time to move out of the Red Hen Inn and into a lower rent apartment share.
Like, say, the 'small room, 1 window, no A/C' gem that I'm heading out to check out now. I fold my last shirt and roll it, military style, into a tight gap in my linen backpack. I survey the room, from the rumpled twin bed with the faded, floral sheets, to the high and narrow window with the prison bars, to the three-legged desk propped up in the fourth corner by a tall, cardboard box, to the mysterious, dark stain by the door that I've become so familiar with over the past few weeks. It's certainly a change from my room at home, which came complete with maid service, 1300-count Egyptian cotton sheets, and more throw pillows than the princess of The Princess and the Pea could want.
The daughter of the Flint, leader of one of the two dominant motorcycle clubs in Chicago, and veritable biker royalty, living as a destitute runaway. It's almost funny, actually.
But I'm not pining for a return to my ivory prison and my depressing future as Nate's bride. Just thinking of his name makes me grimace in disgust. I can just see how it would be if I stayed home and fulfilled my duty to marry Nate and unite his father's motorcycle club with my father's—I would be sitting at home, pregnant and alone, late at night while he banged that whore, Nikki. Or whoever else it might be by then.
No, thank you, I'd much rather fend for myself.
I swing my backpack over my shoulder and scan over the room one last time. I didn't forget anything, which is unsurprising considering how little I brought with me. There are some upsides to traveling light, if living out of a single backpack even qualifies as that.
The door doesn't lock with a key, just an old-fashioned sliding bar from the inside, so I don't technically need to go by the front desk to check out. I do anyway, just to say goodbye and thank the heavy, half-toothless receptionist for my stay. I may not to be a Santos by name anymore—or at least not that anyone knows—but I was raised right and manners just stick.
"Ms. Brown?" I give her a small smile. "I'm checking out." Her head lolls to the side a little. She's so gone on something—who knows what—that I doubt she even heard me. Still, I give a little wave before I walk away.
It's good that I can't afford to stay here. It's good that I can't afford complacency. Complacency is how you end up as a Ms. Brown—old, tired, and getting high just to make it through the day.
It's better to fight. That's why Savannah Santos is no more.
Chapter Two
Savannah - 3.5 Weeks Earlier
I didn't really know Nikki, but when things like these happen in the community, we have to band together. I lost my mother and little sister, too, albeit many years ago and in a war between my father's motorcycle club and Nate's father's motorcycle club, the historical rival of my father's.
I try not to let my thoughts go there, but I can't help but see the scene play in my mind as I close my eyes. It was the first day of third grade and I couldn't wait to run home and tell Mom all about my day. She always acted like what I had to say was the most interesting thing in the world, even if it was just going on and on about a picture I drew in arts and crafts or a new kid in my class. But that day, I had really exciting news for her. Nate Moreno was in my class. I didn't know much about the Morenos, but I knew that the dad Moreno was in charge of the other motorcycle club, the one that Daddy's club didn't like. They fought a lot, especially in the past few weeks, so this piece of news would definitely put me at the center of attention—for the afternoon, at least. I hadn't had such a juicy piece of gossip since when Linah, my little sister, took her first step while Mom had her back turned, making dinner. I was in such a hurry to get home and so I was so bummed when a traffic blockade held me up.
I remember pressing my face against the window impatiently, wanting whatever it was that was holding the school bus up to hurry up and be over. There were ten, maybe twelve, cop cars blocking the road. Their lightbars kept blinding me as the lights spun and the mechanical scream of their sirens deafened me. As my senses adjusted to the chaos, barely dampened at all by the bus walls, I could pick up on cold popping sounds and real screams—human screams.
That's when I started to feel scared. Until then, I was fine. But when I heard the screams and the bad pops—the pops that always made Mom close the shutters and herd Linah and me down to the windowless basement playroom—I suddenly couldn't breathe. I hugged my backpack to my chest, burying my face in the hot pink plastic, and shook as I took gasping breaths in and out.
I didn't stop shaking for a week. Not when they rerouted the school bus back to school. Not when Daddy showed up at school hours later, with sad eyes and a hard face. Not when they put Linah and Mom in the ground in matching black boxes decorated with intricate carvings and filled with crushed silk and rose petals.
I remember looking into Mom's box and not being able to cry any more. Her face was as perfectly madeup as every other day of her life, lashes and all, but so terribly still. Even the magical swirls and starbursts that danced from just under her left ear all the way down to the rounded curve of her shoulder, a mesmerizing pattern that had entranced me for as long as I could remember, had somehow lost their magic. Everything was flat, dull. Dead.
The next day, Daddy took me with him to the board meeting. I waited in a room with an attendant, one of the board members' wives, until Finn, Daddy's second in command, came to get me. I joined Daddy in a large conference room. The Morenos were there, too, and so was Nate. I was told that the wars were over. The motorcycle clubs were uniting in a peacekeeping truce. And on my eighteenth birthday, I would marry Nate Moreno and seal the alliance by joining the families.
At eight years old, I was given the burden of stopping a gruesome rivalry, spanning decades, by marrying Nate, a boy I didn't even know. I stopped shaking.
I shake myself out of my reverie. Today isn't about me, it isn't about Linah, and it isn't about my mom. Today is about Nikki and the loss of her mother and sister in a car accident.
Nikki is in the Morenos’ motorcycle club and I should probably have arranged an escort to accompany me to go visit her. Truce or no truce, I am not entirely safe on their side of town until my eighteenth birthday, and marriage to Nate, in a few weeks. But this is an exceptional circumstance and I'm not going to overwhelm the poor girl with a security guard escort.
I knock on Nikki's door. There's no response and I don't hear anything when I press m
y ear against the door. She doesn't seem to be home. I decide to stop by Nate's place on the way back, though I'm not supposed to be within five feet of a boy unsupervised, to make sure that he's heard about Nikki's family. Nikki is, after all, his ex-girlfriend. He should know.
I bristle a little at the thought—Nate may be technically off-limits, but the
reality is quite different. Because he isn't the one who has to bleed on our wedding night, the rules about his social life are a lot more lax than the ones about mine.
With that bitter thought, I stomp up the steps to Nate's place and knock on the door. Nate's probably still at the gym and coming back soon, but it's starting to drizzle and I'm not waiting out here until he gets back. I slide a hairclip out of my hair, jostle the lock a bit, and let myself into Nate's place. I grab a banana from the counter and toss myself down on the couch to wait.
Then I hear something from Nate's bedroom. A thump. There it is again. Thump-thump. Someone else is in the apartment. I get up from the couch as quietly as possible, instantly regretting having thrown myself down on it moments earlier. But I don't think whoever it is heard me, because the thumping continues. Then there's a man's voice, but it's so low that I can't make out what he’s saying. A woman's voice replies, also too low to make out any words. Then there's a female sob and the male says something in a soothing voice. Nikki must have come over to seek solace in Nate after receiving the bad news. I decide to leave them alone. He knows her much better than I do and will surely do a better job of comforting her.