by S. Nelson
Straddling my bike and kicking over the engine, I couldn’t help but be annoyed at the fact that I had to attend Jagger’s fight that evening, simply because I wasn’t in the mood. But before I let the thought rattle me too much, I remembered there was a good chance Braylen would be there, seeing as her sister, Kena, was Jagger’s woman. And far be it from Braylen to let her little sister out of her sight for too long.
Braylen
The last thing I wanted to do was attend Jagger’s fight with Kena, but I hated leaving her alone, even though I knew at least two of the other guys from the club would be there, protecting Jagger and his winnings, even though Jagger could take out anyone who challenged him. There was more to their show of support, and while I didn’t know the full story, I knew it was serious. Something coded spoken once about the Savage Reapers.
Ryder and Jagger sheltered my sister and me as much as they could, which sometimes seemed a bit too much. I fought Ryder when he made ridiculous demands, but somehow he always won. It was quite infuriating, to say the least.
Usually I was the last person who would shrink away from confrontation, but I’d been deliberately avoiding him. Well, his phone calls, to be more precise. Surprisingly he hadn’t shown up at the salon where I worked, giving me time and space instead. And while I had no idea whether or not he’d be at the fight that evening, chances were good that he would be.
Why don’t you wear this? Kena signed, a tentative smile on her beautiful face while she waited to see if I’d give her any sort of resistance.
My younger sister had developed a viral infection when she was an infant, damaging the nerves in her larynx which prohibited her from ever speaking a single word. My family had learned sign language, even though many times we chose to speak since she could hear us.
“I’m really not up to going. I’m tired,” I lied, walking past her to grab my cell from the charging dock. Checking to see if I had any messages, even though I wouldn’t respond even if Ryder had contacted me, I busied myself unlocking the device. I kept my head down since that was a surefire way of avoiding my sister.
Strands of my blonde hair flew around me as fabric suddenly covered my vision. Swiping at the material, I realized it was the top Kena had just presented to me. The bitch had thrown it at me. Normally my sister was docile, but apparently not then.
“What the hell?”
Stop avoiding him. Besides, don’t you want to make sure nothing happens to me? The smirk on her face told me she knew damn well what she was doing—drawing on my need to perpetually keep her safe. Normally, Kena hated my overbearing ways, but right then she played on my fears that something would happen to her if I wasn’t around to protect her. My fears weren’t all that irrational, however. It wasn’t long ago that she’d been kidnapped right along with Adelaide, the VP’s woman. They’d been taken by the Reapers but thankfully had been retrieved unharmed, except for some physical bruising. The mental aspect of the incident, however, was something my sister chose to keep to herself, even with all of my incessant prodding.
“I’m not avoiding him. I’ve just been busy.” I saw from the quirk of her manicured brow that she didn’t believe one word of my careless untruth. “I’m not,” I repeatedly lied.
I’d told her about what happened with Ryder, how he’d held me down while trapped inside some crazy nightmare, essentially scaring me half to death in the process. While she’d been concerned about me, she’d also been worried about Ryder. Kena had become fond of the brooding man, explaining that any guy who could periodically render me speechless had to be someone special indeed.
You and I both know you’re hiding from him, but if you really don’t wanna go tonight, then don’t. I’m sure I’ll be fine. She pouted, telling me she didn’t want to go by herself, for whatever reason.
After several very long seconds, I relented. “Fine, I’ll go, but I’m not gonna enjoy myself.”
We’ll see about that.
“I guess we will,” I mumbled, more to myself than anything.
After I finally finished dressing, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, making sure I looked appropriate enough for public view. I wasn’t vain by any means, but I did care about how I looked when I stepped outside. My highlighted tresses fell just below my shoulder blades in soft waves. As far as my makeup went, I chose to keep it simple with two coats of mascara and a lightly tinted lip gloss.
You look great. Dressing up for anyone in particular? Kena teased, plopping down on the edge of my bed.
“What are you talking about? I’m not wearing anything special.” Looking down, I was confused as to why she thought I’d put any extra effort into the clothes I’d chosen. A simple black tank top that scooped low in front to show a bit of cleavage, paired with my favorite dark skinny jeans and my go-to red heels were oceans away from being special. While I believed I looked good, my outfit wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
My sister smiled wide. She loved to get me going, probably paying me back for all the times I aggravated her. Ours was a special sisterly relationship, both of us caring for the other deeply. But there were times, like right then, when one of us couldn’t help but razz the other. It was all done in good fun, so I smiled back and released most of the tension pent-up inside me.
“You look nice too,” I said, playfully shoving her shoulder as we walked toward the front door. Holding my phone tightly, I chanced a look at the screen once more before the night air hit me.
Ryder
The smell of body odor, piss, and cheap cologne drifted to my nose as I positioned myself against the farthest wall, waiting for Jagger to emerge from the back room. His impending bout started in five minutes, the screams and shouts from numerous groupies making my ears ring they were so damn excited.
Surprisingly Kena and Braylen hadn’t arrived yet, an odd fact since Jagger told me they were coming. I hadn’t asked him—he’d volunteered the information, mumbling something about some goddamn look on my face, how it was sad and pathetic. I’d ignored him, choosing to focus on what would happen once I saw Braylen. Would she continue to ignore me? Would I ignore her in turn?
Shaking my head to rid my brain of the back and forth, I lifted my chin toward Tripp when I saw him enter. A few strides and he’d sidled up next to me.
“What the fuck is that smell?” he asked, grimacing as he pulled the top of his shirt over his nose. “It smells horrible in here. Jagger really needs to find other places to fight.”
“Who cares what the place smells like? As long as he wins and gets paid, nothing else matters.”
“Still. . . .”
Dropping the material shrouding his nostrils, Tripp opened his mouth to say something else when Jagger came bursting out of the back room, searching the area before settling his eyes on us. Stomping forward, he reached us in record time, looking worried and frazzled.
At first glance, the guy looked in control. Fierce even. His dark blond hair was shaved on the sides, the top strands longer than the rest. Slicked back and in place, the style was enough to ensure he could see his opponent without obtrusion. It also enhanced his etched features, which were pinned with worry for some reason.
“Where is she?” he asked, looking past us into the adrenaline-filled crowd.
“Who?”
“Kena. She’s supposed to be here. She said she’d be waiting for me before my fight. It’s not like her to be late.” His fists clenched at his sides, the sign that he was subject to blow in a few seconds if he didn’t find what was keeping his woman.
Kena was punctual, though her sister was always late. If they were coming together, it could explain her absence.
I couldn’t deny that Braylen had somehow burrowed inside me, alighting on my nerves in both aggravation and intrigue. Passion and annoyance. The woman was something else, a firework in the darkest of nights.
I would’ve loved to say there was a quiet innocence and grace about her, but anyone who knew Braylen knew that wasn’t entirely accurate. An embel
lishment of the highest degree, to be more exact. Every time she entered the room, she lit it up with her presence, her fierceness and undeniable sex appeal. Although the last trait was for me and me alone. She’d shoot off at the mouth at the drop of a hat, misinterpreting situations quite often. She ranted and raved first, then asked questions, but only after she’d calmed down enough to allow me to speak. And by speak, I mean kiss the hell out of her until she had no other choice but to calm down.
“Here they come,” Tripp announced, pulling his phone from his pocket and taking a step toward the aisle. “You got this?” He cocked his head toward the two women fast approaching.
“Yeah.”
“Be right back.” No doubt he was checking in with Reece, his woman, who was pregnant with his kid. It seemed everywhere I looked lately the guys were knockin’ up their ol’ ladies. First Stone and Adelaide, and now Tripp had fallen down that rabbit hole. I didn’t have anything against kids—I had one of my own—but I sure as hell didn’t want to start all over again at thirty-four.
Jagger pulled Kena toward him, wrapping his arms around her and giving everyone quite the show. Damn, the guy was smitten, but I couldn’t blame him. Kena was pretty damn cool, never seeming to give my friend much of a problem. Not like her sister with me.
Speaking of . . .
Braylen shot me a warning glance before trying to shuffle down a nearby aisle, squeezing past a few guys who seemingly didn’t want to keep their hands to themselves. As I pushed off the wall, intent on wiping the floor with the asshole who dared grab her ass, my steps faltered when I saw her whip around and slap the guy across the face. Even over the roar of the frenzied crowd, I heard the impact.
Thankfully, for her and for me, the fucker seemed embarrassed enough to mouth something before looking down at the ground. Was it because he feared another smack from the feisty blonde, or could it have been the death daggers I shot his way when he looked around to see who’d witnessed the assault? While I was proud of Braylen for sticking up for herself, she had no idea how much danger she’d just put herself in for slapping that bastard. Had I not been present, would he have snatched her up and hurt her? I knew how the world worked, about all of the evil contained within, but Braylen was clueless. For as ballsy as that chick was, she lived in a bubble. Something we fought about on occasion.
I was always right, and she hated when I pointed it out.
Peering over at me, she looked away as soon as our eyes connected. She wanted to appear unaffected by my presence, but I saw the way her body reacted when she knew I was looking—no, staring. Her taut muscles locked up tight and the heave of her chest increased; it was slight but noticeable. Her tits looked amazing in that fuckin’ black top, her ass round and delectable in her painted-on jeans. If I wasn’t so intent on playing aloof, I would’ve approached, snatched her up and taken her back to my place right then and there. But because I wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t sting my cheek with a smack, I stayed planted against the wall. Not that I didn’t encourage a bit of feistiness in the bedroom, but it wasn’t the time or the place.
I knew Braylen well enough to know that if I pushed her too far, she’d continue to give me the cold shoulder. And while her silence gave me the room to try and come to grips with the shit I’d been dealing with—or pushing back down for my subconscious to bury again—I needed to be with her. To feel her against me. To taste her.
I could toss it up to simply being horny, but even though I knew it was more than hormones, I refused to acknowledge the fact that I was becoming more and more attached to her. My survival was key, emotional as well as anything else.
Entirely consumed with my own thoughts, I hadn’t even seen Tripp approach, grumbling to himself as he came to stand next to me once again.
“Fuckin’ women,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets while looking off into the distance.
He’d just given me the opportunity to focus on someone other than myself for a moment. “Reece okay?”
“Yeah, she’s great. Just ask her.” Sarcasm dripped off him. Tripp looked a little more than put out, and even though he’d be the first to poke fun at me, he’d also be willing to lend an ear.
“What’s the problem? She not givin’ you any now that you knocked her up?”
Cocking his head, he narrowed his eyes before flashing an arrogant smirk.
“No problem there. In fact, she’s all over me.” Bending his leg, he braced himself on the wall behind us, his smirk fading as quickly as it had appeared. “She told me she wasn’t feeling well before I left, so I convinced her to call off from work. But when we just spoke, she told me she decided to go in after all.” He stopped talking, looking at me as if I had a fuckin’ clue as to what the problem was.
“So?”
“What do you mean ‘so’? She’s fuckin’ pregnant. Every time she goes to work she puts herself and my kid in danger. I’ve told her I want her to quit, and she agreed, but she keeps pushing back the date. First it was gonna be last month, but then she told me that Carla needed to keep her on until she found her replacement. I spoke to Carla. Reece lied to me. Problem is I have no idea why.” Becoming more upset the longer he spoke, he released a barrage of curses before slamming the sole of his boot against the concrete wall.
“Maybe she’s pissed you’re makin’ her quit,” I blurted, not entirely believing what I was saying. I couldn’t even imagine how much my ears would be ringing if I ever tried to convince Braylen to quit her job. Granted, the salon where she worked was worlds different than Indulge, one of the club’s strip joints, but Braylen still had male clients. Customers who wanted in her pants. I was positive of it.
“She agreed with me. So why would she be pissed?”
“That’s like asking me why the sky’s blue, my brother. I’m as clueless as you are when it comes to understanding how chicks think.” Tearing my eyes away from Braylen—who continued to ignore me, even though I saw her look in my direction every now and again—I gave Tripp my full attention. “From what you’ve told me, your woman’s been through some shit. Maybe her job is some kind of security or somethin’. And now that she has to give it up, it’s messin’ with her.” I sought out Braylen again. “My guess, anyway.”
Before we could continue our conversation, Jagger stepped into the cage, cracking his neck from side to side and bouncing on his feet. He’d never been the showboater the other fighters were, but he seemed to steal the audience’s attention each and every time.
The next fifteen minutes passed with the both of us just watching everyone else, on guard in case any unwanted guests showed up. Ever since Koritz, the crooked DEA agent, showed up at our club—and with Rabid, the Savage Reapers’ VP, no less—an unsettling awareness shrouded everyone involved with the Knights Corruption.
The men were uneasy, just waitin’ for shit to pop off, and the women were affected by our moods, even though they had no clue what was really going on.
We thought we’d put the war to bed between our two clubs when we took out Psych, only to find out that his club was hell-bent on finding out where he was and what had happened to him.
Too bad they’ll never know . . . or find his rotting corpse.
As Jagger was declared the winner, he strode from the cage and barreled toward Kena, snagging her hand and pulling her toward the back of the room. Lifting his chin toward me before kissing his woman, he pointed toward the office on the second floor. It was code for “Watch my woman while I get my money.”
Tripp flanked me on my left side while the women stood on my right. Braylen had still made no move to talk to me, and after another five tense minutes, I deemed enough was enough.
Ryder
“Watch her,” I instructed Tripp, referring to Kena, and seized Braylen’s wrist, pulling her behind me toward the Exit sign. At first she didn’t fight because I’d caught her off guard, but as we entered the night air, she tried to pull her hand from mine.
“Let go,” she shouted, yanking her arm b
ack a few times before I finally released her. “What is wrong with you? You can’t just manhandle me whenever you want to.”
Ignoring her question, I fired off one of my own. “Why didn’t you respond to any of my texts or take any of my damn calls? You can’t still be that pissed at me for the other night.” As soon as I asked the question, I knew my fuckup. What I referred to was when I balked at her before disappearing into the bathroom, not the memory of pinning her to the bed beneath me.
“Are you kidding me?” she yelled, taking a step backward. I reached for her but she shook her head. “I wake up to you lying on top of me, bruising my arms because you were holding me down while you were dreaming. You had no idea I was even there until I shouted your name.”
“And kicked me,” I reminded her. A half smirk found its way onto my lips.
Not the right time.
“It’s not funny, Ryder. You could’ve choked me to death.”
“My hands weren’t near your neck,” I rebuked.
“But they could’ve been. What happens next time when you decide to wrap your hands around my throat?”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“You had no idea what you were doing the other night, so how can you be so sure?”
“Because I would never hurt you.” Scratching at the hairs covering my jawline, I did my best to convince her I believed the ridiculous words spewing from my mouth.
“Not intentionally,” she whispered, the breeze stealing her words and swirling them around me like a tornado. Braylen put another foot of space between us.
“Stop moving away from me like you’re scared of me, Bray. I don’t like that shit.” My head ached, all muscles in my body suddenly becoming too sensitive to the anxiety coursing through me. I hated the look of doubt shadowing her eyes, as if she wanted to come to me yet refused to move because she wasn’t sure she should.
Hell, I didn’t know if she should either.