I looked down at her, confused. She was clearly embarrassed, but the truth was that I didn’t mind what she said, and I was ready to say it back. But right now, she probably wouldn’t trust that it was genuine.
“Okay,” I said, lying down next to her and pulling her into my arms.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jordan
I looked up at the Domino's sign, cursing myself for being here. I was standing at the back of the building with the large sign lighting up the small area. It was two in the morning, just like the message requested.
I’d never know why I decided to comply. This part of my life was over. But I couldn’t ignore it. It seemed important to show up, even if it was to tell him to go fuck himself.
I tucked my hands in my jeans pockets and realized that I wanted a cigarette for the first time in a while. But if I came home smelling of smoke, Cece would ask where I'd been.
I tensed as a figure came out of the darkness, a smug look on his face.
“Jesus, you look like shit, Parker,” I said.
The lines on his face became even more pronounced as he smiled at me. The last time I saw this man had been eight years ago. He had most of his blond hair back then, but now it looked like it'd given up the fight, leaving his skull looking shiny on top. He’d put on a few pounds, too. But he still had the same face, that government issued face. You know the type: square, serious, always holding something back.
“Yeah, well, not all of us can have nineteen-year-old pussy keeping us young,” he said.
Son of a bitch. He had been watching me. I shook my head. I had been foolish to think I could leave all this shit behind me.
“Judging by your current state, I'm guessing Diane has finally left your ass.”
Bringing up his disgruntled wife wiped the smile off his face. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to keep tabs on people.
Seeing how ugly this conversation was already, I decided to cut to the chase. “What do you want?”
“We need your help.”
“We being?”
“Come on out,” Parker said.
It took only seconds for me to recognize the man that emerged from shadows. I'd never met him, but I'd seen the pictures. Rem's mom still had a few around her house. He even looked like Rem: tall, handsome, blue eyes. But Steven Jenkins was never a real father to Rem.
He was a former Aces member, and a traitor. He was born in Clayton and spent years with the Aces. Turned out that he was under cover the whole time. When he finally had enough evidence he disappeared, and three Aces went to prison.
I went for my gun, pointing it at the man’s head.
“Jordan,” Parker said, holding up a hand. “We both know you’re too smart to shoot a federal agent in front of another.”
I smirked and kept my gun up. “Yeah, but it might be worth it.”
“Come on, son,” Jenkins said. “We are here to ask for your help.”
“And what makes you think I would help you?”
“I was hoping it would be your sense of duty toward your country. A willingness to help the innocent,” Parker said.
I glared at him.
Jenkins cleared his throat. “Of course, if that doesn’t work, there is always blackmail.” He pulled out an envelope and held it out to me.
I dropped the gun and whipped the envelope out of his hand. I opened it up to find pictures of me and Izzy going into the bank a few weeks ago. They were from the outside, and they must have been from a handheld camera.
“So, what?” I shrugged. That job was over, and all loose ends had been tied. The money was already clean with no evidence that linked us directly to the job.
“That bank was the victim of a cyber-attack a few weeks ago. Curious that a hacker with your skill would be going in to that bank when it is not even close to where you live,” Parker said.
“I had nothing to do with that. Even if I did, that is hardly enough evidence to prove it.” The photos were bad, but they were hardly conclusive.
“It’s enough to get a warrant for arrest,” Jenkins said.
“Then why am I not being arrested?” I snapped.
“The warrant wouldn’t be for you,” he replied. “It would be for Isabel Rochester.”
I felt my stomach drop at the mention of Izzy. “It’s Isabel Riley now,” I said. “She is also pregnant with your grandchild.”
“I’m aware,” Jenkins said nonchalantly.
“She had nothing to do with it,” I said.
“Maybe not, but the picture does give me cause to have her arrested,” Parker said. “And we can probably convince the judge to not allow bail.”
“Based on her association with a dangerous motorcycle gang,” Jenkins chimed in.
“Preparing for a trial could take months. She would probably be giving birth in the state penitentiary,” Parked continued.
“And then who knows how long that child will be without their mother,” Jenkins said.
Motherfuckers.
Fucking Parker. He knew threatening me wouldn’t get them what they wanted. But threatening Izzy, my best friend’s wife, was a bullseye.
I never hated myself more than this moment. How could I be so stupid? I was arrogant to believe I could protect her.
I was certain that they could never convict her of a crime. But that shit about holding her in prison, taking her baby away as soon as it was born, that was possible. And I couldn’t let that happen. They may not be threatening Izzy’s life, but I knew how she would suffer if I didn’t give them what they wanted. And, knowing Izzy, she would go without a fight because she still thought she has something to prove.
“What’s the job?” I said through gritted teeth.
Parker grinned at his victory. “Rafe is looking to rebuild his team of fighters. He has been looking for you.”
“Fuck,” I said, turning away.
This was going to change everything.
I should have told Cece that I loved her last night. But even that wouldn’t make what I was about to do any less of a betrayal.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Cece
Las Vegas, NV
The Present
When Rafe had asked me where I'd like to go on our date, I said, “Somewhere I can wear jeans and tennis shoes.” He had laughed and said he knew the perfect place.
I was just finishing up my make-up when Tristen came into the bathroom. She smiled at me. “So, tonight is the night, huh?” she asked, her eyes lighting up with mischief.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Your first date with the boss. From what I've heard, you play your cards right and you could be in the running for a diamond ring,” she said, turning to check her make-up in the mirror.
My hand stopped mid-sweep of putting on my mascara. “What?”
“Yeah, one of the girls overheard him saying that he was looking for a woman to make babies with.”
Oh, God.
She glanced at me in the mirror. “What's wrong?”
I just shook my head and tried to steady my hands as I finished my make-up. “I had no idea he was interested in something like that. I thought this was more casual.”
She sat on the sink and turned to me. “Are you saying, you don't want that man's babies? He is gorgeous, rich, and a nice guy. What more could you ask for?”
“Yeah, I suppose you're right,” I said, just wanting this conversation over with. I had been nervous about this date before Tristen's comments, but now I was on the verge of a full-on panic attack. I looked in the mirror and decided that I just had to be honest with Rafe when it came to my feelings, that I was still in love with someone else. I couldn't let his pursuit continue or he could get hurt. Tristen was right. He was a nice guy. He didn't deserve to get trampled on because I was looking for a little revenge on Jordan.
An hour later, I sat across from Rafe at low-key diner off the strip. This was the first time I had seen him out of a suit. He wore a gray t-shirt with jeans and leath
er jacket, but he still looked handsome and sexy.
“So, what made you want to start a fight club?” I asked.
“About ten years ago, my father ran a club just like it, and I helped him. That is when I actually met Jordan for the first time.”
“Really?” I asked, trying to keep my face from scrunching up. Jordan told me he was in the army ten years ago.
“Yeah, he was one of the fighters.”
“Was he any good?” I asked casually.
“The best, but he was also really good at running the numbers, too,” he said as he read the menu.
“What happened?”
Rafe shrugged. “My dad pulled the plug on the whole thing, didn't really give a straight answer.”
The waitress came over and took our drink order.
“Do you see your dad a lot?” I asked as she walked away.
Rafe looked away. “Not really. He is a busy man.”
“What business is he in?”
Rafe's face got tight. “He is a broker of sorts.”
“Like insurance or finance?” I asked.
“Basically,” he said and then pinched his lips together. I got the feeling this was a touchy subject, so I studied the menu for the first time.
“What about your dad?” he asked.
“Oh, he is a truck driver,” I said, thinking of Sonny.
“Really, so he was probably gone a lot?”
I nodded.
“I can relate to that. And your mom?”
I thought about her down in the rehab in Arizona, but I actually hadn’t spoken to her since before I came to Vegas. She stopped answering her phone and e-mails. I had planned to go out there to find her, but then Jordan disappeared, sending my life into a tailspin.
I glanced up to see Rafe staring at me and realized that he was still waiting for an answer. I thought it best to keep it simple. “She works at a hotel,” I said. “Did your mom have a career?”
“No, she stayed at home. But she did a lot of charity work,” he replied, looking away. Something told me that there was more to Rafe’s mother than he was saying, but, once again, I kept things simple.
“Do you have any siblings?” I asked, proud at myself for thinking of all these questions.
“Yes, a sister. Jordan actually dated her for a few months.”
I felt myself flush at the new information. Interesting. Was that why he came back here?
“Why did they break up?” I asked Rafe.
“My dad, it's a long story.”
I bit my lip to hide my frustration. If I pushed for more info, Rafe could get suspicious. I felt even more frustrated that I was on this date in the first place.
I decided now was as good a time as any to tell Rafe about my feelings. “Rafe, can I be honest with you?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“I don't think I'm ready to date,” I said quickly.
He paused for a moment and then gave me a sad look. “Still not over the ex?” he asked.
“Not really,” I said with a shrug.
“And you're scared of being hurt again.”
I nodded, looking down.
“It's not my intention,” he said, playing with his napkin.
I met his eyes. “I know. I'm more concerned with me hurting you or leading you on when there is nowhere to go. You are an attractive, smart, successful man. You shouldn't be wasting your time with someone who is—” I paused. “Broken.”
“Cece, I can tell you’re serious about this and that you truly don't want to hurt me,” he said reaching across the table to take my hand. “But that just makes me like you more.”
I laughed and bit my lip again.
“So, let's just try and get to know each other, okay?” he asked.
He was giving me a line, a way to placate my concerns without actually giving up the relationship. My shoulders drooped because I had failed to get my point across.
I had a real talent for attracting men as I tried to push them away.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Cece
“Here you go, sweetheart,” Mr. Clement said as he slipped a hundred-dollar bill into my bra. I glanced up at Benny and his eyes were on Mr. Clement, with his muscles tense, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. But I gave Mr. Clement a cool smile, pleasant but not too nice. I was used to this type of behavior from my customers. They always just edged the line of impropriety but never really crossed it, at least not since I broke that guy’s nose. I placed his drink on the table and walked back to the bar, sticking the bill in the tip jar before going back to my standing place near my tables. I was just about to take a break when the host came on the speaker to announce the next fight.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the ring Jordan ‘the soldier’ Miller and Grady ‘the killer’ Graham.”
I felt myself pulled toward the ring as I watched Jordan step into it alongside one of the other boxers that I had yet to meet.
Gary announced their weights and ages, making a joke that Jordan was now the 'old soldier' compared to the kid he was fighting. Jordan gave Gary the bird but didn't take his eyes off his opponent, a young man with blond hair. He was shorter than Jordan, but he had more muscles. I only gave the kid a glance before my eyes went back to Jordan. It had been so long since I'd seen him without his shirt that my eyes were glued to his torso. All those dips and curves that I knew so well, that I’d felt under my hands and mouth. And the tattoos that I'd traced with my tongue. Suddenly the room was boiling hot and I felt lightheaded.
Before I knew it, the first bell rang and both men moved toward each other. From my weeks watching the fights I knew that there was no referee and the fight didn't end until someone tapped out or was knocked out. I normally didn't watch because things got rather brutal, especially since there was no requirement on fighting styles. I wanted to turn away now, but I couldn't.
The opponents circled each other for the first minute, taking the time to let the crowd get rowdy. Grady struck first with a kick to Jordan’s calf, but he didn’t go down. Instead Jordan planted his feet and threw a fist at Grady’s head, landing the blow across his jaw. He stumbled back, and Jordan followed.
They were in the middle of the ring when Jordan punched again. But this time Grady trapped Jordan’s arm, turned his body into Jordan’s and pulled him over his shoulder, making Jordan do a flip onto the floor with a hard thud.
The crowd cheered as Grady climbed onto Jordan’s chest and started punching his face.
I closed my eyes, unable to watch.
“He's pretty good, huh?” a voice said behind me. I glanced back and Rafe was standing there.
I looked back at the ring to see Jordan back on his feet and Grady coming up off his knees.
“Yes,” I said.
Jordan had a small smile on his face, like he was amused with Grady.
The young fighter charged at Jordan, trying to tackle him to the ground. But Jordan reached across his body and wrapped a hand around the back of Grady’s neck, bringing him into a headlock. While Grady struggled, Jordan punched him in his stomach three times, making the crowd groan for the kid’s pain. Then Jordan released the hold and shoved Grady away.
He looked down on his arm where drops of blood could be seen. The crowd booed at Grady biting Jordan, screaming out things like “pansy” and “fight like a man”. You could see the anger radiating throughout Jordan’s body. He stalked toward Grady with pure focus in his gaze.
“Why is he fighting?” I asked Rafe as Jordan taught Grady a lesson with his fists.
“Alan broke his hand in training. We didn't have a replacement, so Jordan stepped up.” I just nodded, pulling my eyes away from the fight. Jordan was obviously going to win, and there was no need to worry.
I saw Mr. Clement was trying to get my attention, so I pulled away from Rafe. “Duty calls,” I said over the cheering.
After my customer told me his order, I headed to the bar, keeping my back to the fight. The room exploded i
n an uproar just as I settled the martini on my tray and turned around. Jordan had the kid in a chokehold again. It only took a few seconds before the boy was banging on the ring floor. Jordan let go immediately and stood up before helping his opponent stand, too. He rubbed the kid on the head as Gary announced him as the victor.
A few minutes later, I was heading back to the bar when Joni stopped me. “Hey, can you grab a whiskey for Jordan and take it to him? He asked me for one on the way to the locker room but table two is impatient.”
“Uh, sure,” I said without really thinking about it.
“Great, he told me just to set it on the bench while he showers.”
“Okay.” I went to the bar, got the drink and headed to the locker room quickly. Ever since Rafe asked me out, Jordan and I had switched roles in our little battle. For weeks I had chased him, trying to get him alone. But now I couldn’t stand the thought of facing him. Nothing happened between me and Rafe, and even if it did, Jordan and I weren’t together. But it still felt wrong. I passed Grady leaving the locker room and gave him a smile. I peeked into the room and heard the shower running. Quick as I could, I went to the nearest bench and set the drink down.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jordan said, his voice rough.
I spun around, grabbing my chest at the scare. He had a towel around his waist and his skin still held droplets of water from his shower. I couldn’t help my gaze wandering over him, loving the sight of what was mine … or what had been mine.
“Joni said you wanted that,” I said pointing to the glass. “Are you all right?” I asked, taking in the bruises that were starting to form under his skin.
He stalked over to me, stopping only a few inches away. As he looked down at me his eyes narrowed. “Convenient that Joni needed you to bring it.”
“What are you talking about?” I whispered. I suddenly felt a little dizzy with him so close.
He gave me one of those bad boy smirks, the one he always used to make my panties melt. “Please, Cece. I know when you want it. It’s in your eyes, in your cheeks and those lips. They always seem to tremble when you want me deep.”
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