I Am Lioness (The Bloodshed Series Book 1)

by Dee Garcia

  Reaching out, I wound an arm around her waist, urging her to slide closer. She melted into my side and buried her face in my chest, her fingers scrunching the front of my tee in a tight grip. Then her entire body shook, shuddering with a shaky breath I felt echo through my core.

  Kissing the top of her head, I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes, rubbing her back in small, soothing circles. It killed me to see her like this. If it were possible for me to carry this hardship in her place and free her from despair, I would do so in a heartbeat. No questions asked.

  Hazel lifted her head, her big brown eyes wet with unshed tears, lower lip quivering. I truly thought the floodgates were about to burst open and I wasn't certain I could handle that. Her current state of being was heartbreaking enough. I had no doubts her tears would only serve to wreck me. But she needed me and I needed to be strong, to carry her when she couldn’t walk on her own.

  “I'm scared.” She admitted, her voice trembling.

  I cupped her cheek, brushing my thumb back and forth along her soft skin. “I know but it's going to be okay. He made it through surgery, remember?”

  Emmanuel slowed the SUV to a stop in front of the main entrance of the hospital and Jason was first to step out, promptly opening the back door and holding his hand out expectantly for Hazel. She scoffed and reached across my lap, pulling the latch to open my door to which I took the hint and stepped out onto the pavement with her closely on my tail. As we rounded the back of the Tahoe with her hand enveloped in mine, I heard Jason slam the door shut.

  Stupid motherfucker.

  His eyes flickered between us before he turned his full attention to me.

  “This should only take a few minutes. I'll walk her in. You can make yourself comfortable either in there,”—he hooked his thumb toward the SUV—“or in the lobby.”

  Was he mental?

  I cocked my head to one side. “You're out of your damn mind if you think I'm not going in there with her.”

  He sighed, seemingly irritated. “This will be quick, Mr. Carr. No need for all three of us to go in.”

  “No, Mr. Fremont, this will not be quick. I’m more than positive Hazel is going to want to be beside Bernie either until they ask her to leave or until she’s ready to leave on her own terms. Therefore, I'm going in there. I’m here for her. Where she goes, I go. So, you can either come along and keep your mouth shut or you can stay here and make yourself comfortable.”

  Hazel effectively put an end to the rapidly escalating testosterone-fueled show down by pulling me through the large sliding glass doors, leaving a stunned Jason out on the sidewalk. He didn’t proceed to follow us either, though I suspected he would soon enough.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell his problem is lately.” She said, jamming the up arrow for the elevator with her thumb.

  “I do.”

  She arched an eyebrow curiously.

  I pointed to myself. “I’m circling his territory and he doesn’t like it.”

  “I’m not his territory.” She grumbled.

  “Clearly he missed the memo.” I chuckled in amusement.

  The elevator dinged, bringing our discussion to a halt and revealing an empty cart. We stepped inside and were jetted straight up to third floor, the doors sliding open to a nearly empty and eerily quiet waiting room. Hazel took a deep breath and laced her fingers through mine once more, guiding us to what I presumed was the nurses station.

  A very sweet older woman with flaming red curls and graying undertones greeted us with a warm smile.

  “Hi, I'm here to see Bernie, uh I mean, Bernardo Gutierrez. He was in three-oh-seven when I left last night but I was told there was a great possibility they could move him at any point today.”

  The nurse nodded her head in understanding and began typing away on the computer. Then suddenly an ear-piercing beep began blaring around us. Three nurses came barreling out of a small room, checking the display monitors behind the desk.

  “Three-oh-two.” One said, wrapping the sandwich she was holding back into the plastic cling wrap. “He’s coding.”

  She threw her lunch onto the desk beside the redhead and disappeared with the other two nurses down the silent hallway. Hazel and I exchanged a look as the nurse cleared her throat, a weary look etched on her round face.

  “I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but they’re headed to Mr. Gutierrez’s room.”

  No.

  I watched Hazel’s eyes nearly pop from their sockets and all the blood drain from her face. She took a shaky step forward and her knees immediately gave out. I caught her before she hit the floor, feeling her body slump over in my arms. The elevator dinged again and out came Jason and Emmanuel, their faces morphing from confused to alarmed when they realized Hazel was limp in my arms, the loud beeping still sounding off from behind the desk.

  “What happened?” That was Jason.

  “He’s flat-lining.” I said, because Hazel looked ready to pass out and I wasn’t sure she was able to put words together amidst the shock of what took place less than one minute ago.

  “Christ.” He muttered, shaking his head solemnly.

  Emmanuel dropped down onto one of the chairs, throwing his head into his hands. The beeping ceased abruptly and the silence that replaced it was deafening. Bone-chilling. Hazel steadied herself with a hand at my chest and stood on her feet, burying her face in my tee. She was trembling, nearly convulsing, but not a sound had come out her mouth.

  “C’mon, let’s go sit.” My voice was quiet yet still it managed to bounce off the walls of the waiting area.

  Hazel followed me and I sat her down beside Manny, dropping onto my haunches in front of her. She gripped my arms with such force, her nails were digging into my skin.

  “Breathe,” I reminded her gently, noticing how her chest heaved in panic.

  She met my stare and nodded, her eyes glossing with unshed tears once more. Jason lowered himself in the other seat beside Emmanuel and together we waited for what we could only hope would be good news.

  I want to say it was a mere five minutes that passed before a tall, older man with a shockingly white coat came stalking down the hallway.

  “Miss Perry,” he said, approaching us with caution, a grim expression worrying his grayed eyebrows.

  No.

  Hazel lifted her head, observing the good doctor with red-rimmed eyes.

  “I wish I were here under different circumstances, but unfortunately, Mr. Gutierrez did not make it. We tried everything in our power to resuscitate him. His heart just wasn’t strong enough. I’m sorry.”

  All eyes flew to the woman sitting in my grasp. She blinked, then blinked again, her mouth popping open as if she were about to say something. But what came out instead combined with what I witnessed was an image I’d likely never forget in my lifetime.

  She threw her head back and howled in despair as fresh tears spilled over, running down her face in a heavy stream.

  The next morning went by in a blur. Hazel was adamant on getting to the gym early, all but begging me to go with her, and I was in no position to deny her.

  With the impending funeral, she was anxious for physical relief and a few hours of training and sparring it off would likely do her good. It would also keep her mind where it needed to be—focused on the upcoming fights. That's how Bernie would have wanted it and I was determined to see it through even if I had to fight Jason every step of the way.

  He still wasn't too keen on me being here, so when Hazel made it clear it would be just her and I heading out for the day, the bastard threw a fucking hissy fit and I almost punched him until his teeth were loose.

  After two hours of training with minimal breaks as per request, Hazel wanted to hop into the ring. It had been unoccupied since we arrived, and by the looks of it, no one dared to a step foot in there knowing Lioness was in the building. With no willing sparring partners in sight, I agreed and threw on a pair of padded mitts.

  “R
eally? You're gonna put on the mitts?” She snapped, flexing and releasing her fingers around the pink tape I'd wrapped her hands with.

  Here we go again.

  Her mood swings had been outrageous since we arrived. She could go from quiet kitten to feral beast in seconds. Bouts of silence were expected when she was fully concentrated but the sudden outburst caught me off guard every single time.

  Any little thing that went wrong set her off in an extreme, the worst by far being when she had reached her limit and was unable to push the weights with her legs any longer. After kicking the steel plate with all her might, she threw herself back into the seat several times with alarming force before I was able to break through.

  To make matters worse, she seemed intent to push me away whenever I tried to bring her back. The words she spoke had to power to burn but I brushed them off because I knew she wasn't herself. This woman was not Hazel Perry. My Hazel was lost somewhere within the tidal wave of raging emotions that were swallowing her whole with every minute that passed. The only thing I could do was be there for her and continue to help when necessary.

  We climbed into the ring and Hazel immediately came out swinging, throwing her fists against my hands with such speed and force, they flung backwards no matter how much resistance I put up.

  “Easy there, Tiger.” I chuckled, bracing myself for the next blow.

  For a small woman, she had the power to shake me to my core, and in more ways than one. Hazel’s eyes narrowed as she brought a leg up in a swift kick, grunting when I pushed her off and bounced her back a few steps. That feral little snarl I’d seen that first night curled her lip.

  “Correction, it’s Lioness.” She roared, surging forward and shooting a fist toward me with lithe speed.

  I dodged and came back up behind her, covering behind the safety of my arms because, damn, she was fast. Agile. Precise.

  For the next thirty minutes we went around the ring, her jabbing and me ducking or bouncing her off. She was becoming more frustrated with each strike.

  “Take the mitts off and fight me, Knox.” She finally gritted out, dropping her arms to her sides.

  What?

  I grinned. “Not a chance, baby. Just focus on the mitts and pretend I'm Panterra.”

  “I'm tired of hitting the damn mitts. Take them off and fight me.”

  “Not happening, beautiful. C’mon, focus.”

  She started toward me and took me by surprise—again—by pulling one of my hands into her grasp and peeling the Velcro off the mitt. She threw it to the mat and then ripped off the other, tossing it beside its partner.

  “Come on, fight me.” She shoved at my chest. “You wanted to spar in Cali, right?”

  I shook my head, standing my ground. On an average day I would've agreed, but today was not an average day in the slightest. Bernie’s sudden death had flipped a switch inside of Hazel that made her a ticking time bomb, and right now she was seconds away from exploding.

  She pushed me harder still. “Fucking fight me, Knox. Fight me!”

  “No.” My tone was harsh.

  My resistance to feed into what she wanted only spurred her on, like pouring gasoline over raging fire.

  “Stop being a pussy and fight me! Fucking fight me!” She growled in fury, using every bit of strength within her to push and shove me repeatedly.

  And I let her.

  Every slam to my chest was harder than the last, jerking me back a step. Hazel finally pushed me to the very edge of the ring into one of the padded corners when tears suddenly began rolling down her cheeks.

  That's where I drew the line.

  I grabbed her wrists, applying just enough pressure to subdue her feat. “Stop.” I said, firmly.

  Her eyes met mine and she stood still for the briefest moment before trying and failing to yank herself free from my grasp.

  “Let me go and fight me!”

  “Hazel.” I warned, squeezing her wrists.

  She struggled against me. “Fight me, damn it!”

  My anger flared and in one swift move, I spun around and pushed her into the padded post where I was seconds prior. “STOP!” I roared, loud enough that I'm certain the entire gym heard.

  Hazel stilled, her brown eyes boring into mine. All the sudden rage consuming her melted away and what was left was sadness.

  Grief. Torment.

  “Oh my god.” She whispered as I released her wrists from my grip. “I'm sorry.”

  “It's okay…” I started to say but she threw her arms around my neck and hid her face in my neck, sobbing almost uncontrollably.

  “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry!”

  I swallowed her in my arms and pressed a kiss to her tear stained cheek, wondering if what just happened was only a small preview of the possible tsunami that threatened to drown my girl alive.

  Every morning I awoke thinking this was all a nightmare, that Bernie was tucked away in his suite next door and would be banging down my door at any given moment to head to the gym. But every morning I awoke beside Knox instead, and while his presence in my bed was very much welcome, it was also a reminder that this was simply the hellish reality that once again was my life.

  After a tumultuous couple of days, we left Austin on a Friday evening and made it to L.A. sometime before midnight. I went back to my apartment only to collect what I needed for the weekend, and then Emmanuel drove us to Knox’s condo. I couldn’t bear being alone, and if I was being completely honest, I didn’t want to be anywhere that reminded me of Bernie for an extended period of time.

  I don't remember much of what happened following that other than falling asleep to the steady beat of Knox’s heart beneath my ear.

  The following morning was the day of the funeral. I awoke alone and trudged out of bed to find Knox in the kitchen, fixing what smelled like a delicious breakfast. Strips of bacon were sizzling in a pan and a pile of pancakes were piled high on a plate. He was pouring himself a steaming mug of coffee when I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my lips to his very naked and very inked back.

  The mug clinked on the countertop and then he swiveled around to face me, snaking his hands around my neck, his thumbs brushing along my jaw.

  Sleepy, blue eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled. “Good morning, beautiful.” He said softly, pulling me toward him to kiss me tenderly.

  The corners of my mouth turned up at the sound of his deep, raspy morning voice.

  “Morning, stud.”

  “Hungry?” He asked, pulling away to observe me, as he’d done every morning since arriving in Austin.

  “A little.” I admitted.

  His lips thinned, eyebrows knitting together. “You need to eat, Hazel, at least a small plate. I’m not going to sit around and watch you deteriorate right before my very eyes.”

  I knew he was right. I had to eat, not only for my health but also because I had to maintain my weight in order to fight. I couldn’t help not having an appetite though. Food was just not appealing and I hadn’t been eating much of anything these days. I’d nibble on random snacks here and there but that’s as much as my stomach could handle.

  “I’ll try to eat, I promise.” I said, genuinely meaning every word. “It smells too delicious not to.”

  Knox grinned and pecked my lips again before turning back to the stove to flip the bacon. I took it upon myself to fix a mug of coffee and uncover where he kept the plates and silverware to set the table as well.

  “Table or bar top?” I questioned.

  “Your choice, sweets.” He called from over his shoulder as he pulled something out of the oven.

  The sight stopped me in my tracks and I took a moment to admire the view. The image of him moving so comfortably around the kitchen, plating a meal he’d made for us was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. Throw in the fact that he was shirtless with all that damn ink on display and those gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and I was gawking, hard, like a teenage girl who just discove
red the opposite sex for the first time.

  He turned in time to catch me mid-droolfest and smirked, flashing me a wink that almost knocked me on my ass.

  “What exactly has you so enraptured, Miss Perry?” He asked, grabbing two forks from the silverware drawer.

  “You.”

  One word, completely unabashed and one hundred percent true. I couldn't lie if I tried. Knox grinned again, this time more sly, maybe even a little cocky. Nonetheless, I loved it.

  “Welcome to my world.”

  I padded over to the bar. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  As I was setting the placemats in front of the two stools, he went on to say, “You've had me enraptured since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  Thud.

  I felt myself flush a brilliant shade of pink and despite my wobbly knees, I found myself walking around the island to where he stood, sandwiching myself between the actual granite and the granite that was his body. Immediately his arms caged me in and his head came down to eye level.

  “What can I do for you?”

  It seemed impossible but his voice had dropped lower to this smoky timbre that fluttered my stomach and ignited my blood.

  Feeling quite brazen, I ran a finger from the curve of his throat up to his chin. “You can kiss me.”

  He inched closer, brushing his lips along mine. “That can be arranged.”

  “Preferably now.” I whispered as my eyes fell shut, my head spinning furiously from being drugged by his scent.

  “Your wish is my command.”

  And then his lips were on mine. He pressed me so far back against the counter that I had to cup his cheeks to keep myself steady. Large hands flew to my back, running down to my waist and lifting me onto the counter. They continued their descent along my thighs, prying my legs apart where he nestled himself between them, squeezing them roughly as his tongue invaded my mouth.