The Predator: Part One (The Predator Series Book 1)

by Brooke May

  There is no way in hell that will ever happen. Not again.

  Once I’m in the house, I lock up and set the alarm before trudging up the stairs to my bedroom to drop my bag and head to the bathroom to shower. I fall into bed after doing all of my nightly rituals and cuddle up in the mountain of pillows I have to one side of me. But it’s difficult falling asleep when my nerves start to surface.

  XOXO

  I WILL GIVE IT to Beth. I look amazing. She spent nearly two hours working on my hair and makeup before we left to go to dinner. She made me look amazing. The dress hugs every curve I now have on my body. My hair is pinned back on the sides and left floating down the center of my back. I’ve let it grow quite a bit since I moved here. My eyes are vibrant ice blue orbs encased in silver eyeshadow and black liner. Never in my life have I ever looked this sexy.

  Growing up with dance, I didn’t have many curves. Not that my mother would have ever allowed them to form on my body. She wanted my sister, her, and me to resemble sticks; flat, boring sticks.

  Now that I eat whatever I want, as long as it is still healthy, and only dance for fun, my body has added some curves that I’m more than comfortable with. The only part of me that hasn’t change much is my chest. That was always big. Something I got from one of my grandmothers. I used to have to wrap them and bind them when I would dance or whenever my mother dictated that I was to do so. She used to manage everything about my appearance.

  Between my eyes and my chest, I’m sure to get some male attention tonight. Beth’s words, not mine. Attention is something I don’t really want. I’ve turned down every man who has asked me out since moving here, and some of them have even been rather attractive.

  This dress is bringing out the confidence that I currently lack to get through tonight. Like a pair of power panties, it helps me to go with Beth. It doesn’t do a thing for my nerves, though. I’m still wound up and ready to run, which I will struggle with, considering my heels.

  After dinner, Bob’s driver brought us right to the venue and through security to the V.I.P. entrance.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll explain the fights to you.” Beth loops her arm with mine as we make our way to our seats.

  Which are right up front.

  By the ring.

  Where he will see me.

  “Beth, you don’t …”

  “Oh, there’s Bobby!” Beth waves to her much older companion as I take my seat.

  He’s a great guy from the few times I have met him. I just wish she would find someone decent around our age. She said she struggled with losers for too long and decided being the companion to an older man who wants it and can pay for things for her outweighed another broken heart. I try not to judge. Beth is actually a pretty simple girl. Even though Bob seems like a nice man, something about him makes me uneasy around him.

  “Beth, you don’t need to worry about explaining anything.” I bring one of my feet up and rub the side that is exposed. I should be used to wearing heels since I wear them at work, but I love giving my feet a break. “I’ve been to a few before.” They were official, or sanctioned, fights, but I still know the rules.

  She takes her seat next to me while I nervously pray that he won’t notice me when he comes out and gets into the ring. I’m so stupid. Of course, he will notice. I’m in his fighting colors, after all.

  Bob finishes talking to someone in the ring and walks over at us. He kisses Beth on the cheek and nods to me. “Did you girls enjoy dinner? I’m sorry I couldn’t join you. I had some things to take care of here.”

  “It was wonderful. Thank you, Bob.” I smile and look around as the seats begin to fill up. Some people are dressed up like Beth and I are, while others are just wearing regular street clothes. When I used to come to fights with him, I would wear jeans and a t-shirt. I feel a little out of place in this dress now.

  “Yeah, babe. It was great. Thank you again for all of this.”

  “Anything for you.” He smiles warmly at Beth. Not in the fatherly way you would except to see a man of his age looking at a younger woman but as something else. I idly wonder if his feelings for Beth are completely different from the ones she has for him. “We’ll go to the after party together. I have it planned for up in the penthouse.” He looks back at me. “I have my driver on stand-by for whenever you’re ready to leave, K.C. I know you have obligations at home you may need to get to.”

  “Thank you, Bob.” Maybe he isn’t so bad, after all. Though everything should be just fine at home tonight, I may need a quick escape.

  “You’re welcome.” He stands, clapping his hands together. “All right, ladies. Enjoy! I need to get back to work.”

  We wave him off just as the noise picks up and the lights start to dim. “And you aren’t sleeping with him?” The way Bob eyes Beth, you would think something more is going on between them.

  “No.” Beth scuffs. “I’m his companion and nothing more. Bobby just wants someone to spend time and money with. God knows he has enough of both.”

  Note to self: don’t ask about their relationship again.

  “All righty.” I fold my hands in my lap and let the sweat build as we watch the first few fights. I find myself moving with whichever fighter I feel should win. It takes me back to another time when a much larger body would stand behind me and teach me the right way to throw my fists into a heavy bag. His distinct mixture of sweat and pure male is still stored in my memory. I’m not sure whether to smile or cry; these surfacing feelings are unwanted now.

  I find that I didn’t lose my edge at picking out the strengths and weaknesses of the opponents and easily figuring out who will be deemed the winner. The closer the main card gets, the more nervous I become.

  After the second break, Bob climbs into the ring and walks to the center with his microphone. This is the moment when I am about to jump out of my skin. Trying my best to control my heart rate and breathing so I don’t pass out, I look around to see if I can find Chamberlain. I find people holding up signs, expressing their desire for The Predator to win or to marry this fan or that one, but I don’t find him anywhere.

  He was never ‘The Predator’ to me, only Chamberlain. Very few people in his life referred to him by his given name. I was lucky enough to be one of them, even if it was only for a short period of time. Only a few short months.

  Love fast, burn faster.

  “Sexy and I Know It” by LMFAO comes through the sound system as Bob turns to one corner, the one farthest from us.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” he drawls out, his volume increasing as he talks. “I will now turn your attention to our main fight of the night!” Bob shouts into his microphone as the crowd around us grows louder. “In the red corner, weighing in at two hundred twenty-four pounds, I give you Slader ‘The Slayer’ Marshall!” He makes his name longer by drawing out the L’s.

  Bob directs our attention to the fighter entrance that The Slayer used while he is making his way down to the ring. The whole time he jogs to the ring, all I can think of is that Chamberlain will be in the corner closest to us.

  Wearing neon blue shorts with short dreads tipped in the same color, The Slayer jumps into the ring. He jumps around, trying his best to get the crowd going even more as he makes his way to his corner. There is a mixed response in the crowd. Boos can be heard along with the loud cheering.

  He is a pretty big guy; after all, this is a heavyweight fight. And even though I haven’t seen Chamberlain in four years, I know this guy doesn’t have anything on him. The Slayer has a cocky air to him as he jumps around, shouting and winking at some of his female admirers.

  With The Slayer getting pumped up in his corner, our attention turns back to Bob. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, I turn your attention to the white corner.” He extends his hand to his left side. The side closest to me. I feel every head in the place turn at once.

  “Animals” by Maroon 5 replaces the last song. It increases the sweat forming in my clenched hands and on the back of my neck.


  “Weighing in at two hundred thirty pounds of lean, mean fighting muscles. A six-foot-one stealthy predator who has not only won the championship but also our hearts, I give you, Chamberlain ‘The Predator’ Lawrence!” Like before with The Slayer, Bob draws out Chamberlain’s name through the L. The crowd goes into a complete frenzy, far greater than when his opponent appeared. Beth is right there along with the rest of the crowd while I double check to see which exit would be closest.

  I try to remain calm as I watch a menacing figure under a black and white robe make his way to the ring.

  I only see one person in his group who I actually know. Chamberlain’s best friend, slash training partner slash coach, Scott Franks, is jogging alongside him.

  Some things never change.

  Chamberlain takes off his robe, tossing it to one of his guys, and I find myself surprised that no women are around him in his little group. Not even her. He jumps into the ring, and my feet quake from the force in which he landed. He climbs to the top rope, just above me, to scream, amping up the crowd even more.

  He is bigger than the last time I saw him like this but not by much. His face is chiseled and deadly looking as it ever was. His jaw is square and loose as he smiles to the crowd. He’s grown into quite an impressive man. His nose is a little bent, showing signs of being broken a few times. His tanned skin glistens in the lighting above us and creates deep shadows over his defined muscles. He was ripped when we were younger, but now, he’s in a whole new class.

  Still utter perfection.

  He does a backflip off the rope and turns to Bob and The Slayer. I gasp at the image that now faces me on his back; a tattoo that was not there the last time.

  “Wow,” I whisper. Most of his shoulders and upper back are covered with Celtic knots and various other things I don’t care to dwell on at the moment.

  “Hmm?” Beth leans in and looks at me. “Oh yeah, I read in an interview with him about that fine piece of work.” She nods and keeps her eyes on his back like. “He said he gets all these tattoos to remember his past and keep him down to earth. He doesn’t really have any on his chest except on his right shoulder and collarbone, but on the left side, right over his heart, there is a single tattoo of a girl’s name.”

  What!

  “He told the interviewer that she was the one who got away.”

  Oh, my God! I can’t believe this. Why would he do that? He’s the one who ruined us! He’s the reason I left. Well, most of the reason.

  There is a possibility it isn’t my name.

  That’s right; I’m getting ahead of myself. But how am I going to handle seeing another woman’s name on his chest?

  I shouldn’t care anymore, but part of me still feels some primal ownership over him.

  It is quiet as Bob goes over the rules with the fighters, and then he starts the fight. I edge closer to my seat as I watch Chamberlain fall easily into his style. He dances around his opponent, toying with him and doing his best to wear him out before he goes in. This is how he got the nickname “The Predator.” He knows how to weaken his prey before he goes in for the kill. This holds true both in the ring and outside of it.

  He will circle in for the kill or get in a few good hits before backing out again and taking up the defense. Chamberlain may be bigger than his opponent is, but it does nothing to slow him down. Through round one, he manages to dodge most of Slayer’s hits and lands some pretty good ones. Again, like the fights before, I find myself moving in sync with Chamberlain. I catch myself before I start doing the boxer shuffle with my fists up in while heels and a dress which would draw too much attention.

  Stupid old habit.

  When the bell rings after the second round, they go to their corners. The Slayer has his team working away on his face; trying to stop his upper eye from bleeding and wiping him down. “Cha … The Predator will go for a knockout this next round. The Slayer won’t make it.” I lean into Beth, not taking my eyes off the action.

  “How do you know that?” Concern and curiosity etch her voice.

  “Look at The Slayer. He already can’t see out of his left eye, and his breathing is labored from trying to land a fist on The Predator. He’s just getting into it. Like a real predator, he’s wearing The Slayer down before he finishes him.”

  “Umm … K.C., you’re scaring me.” I turn and find a concerned look on Beth’s face. Clearing my throat, I sit back in my chair again and wait for the next round.

  “Just watch.” I focus on the two fighters as they get back up. I forgot the rush I had from watching him move and win his fights. I have only ever felt this high with him.

  Sure enough, well into round three, The Slayer is showing strong signs of weakening. I’m not sure if anyone else can see Chamberlain’s change from blocking to attack, but I can. As swiftly as any animal taking down its meal, Chamberlain goes in. Dodging a swing to his ribcage, he knocks into The Slayer’s center, taking him down, and delivers the knockout to the side of his head.

  After a few short seconds, Bob announces Chamberlain the winner by knockout causing eardrum-shattering screams to break out everywhere. “Animals” comes back on, but I can barely hear it over the crowd.

  With his arm raised, Chamberlain turns full frontal to me, causing everything I have ever felt to burst from my body and leave me tingling.

  He isn’t the boy I once knew. He was muscular when we were younger, but now, he has more in all the right places. His broad shoulders are tight with corded muscles and narrow down his body to his trim waist. His legs look just as powerful as his arms. Even the muscles in his neck are ripped.

  Something deep inside me, something I thought was dead, comes to life again at the mere sight of him. His muscles cut deep and lead to the V peeking out from his shorts, making my mouth water. His hair is a little longer than I remember and spiked on top but still the same dirty blond color that I loved running my fingers through when he held me. His tanned skin glistens with the sweat he just worked up from his fight. His breathing is somewhat labored, causing my eyes to focus more on his chest.

  His pectorals and abdominals are sharp, deep plains of muscle, and there is not a single hair anywhere. But none of that really holds my attention. No, not at all. What has my attention is the beautiful black ink in a curvy design right over his heart. It’s my name. Katie. Chamberlain was the only one who ever called me that. I made sure no one else did after him because it hurts too much to hear that name.

  But there on his chest is me. It should fill me with joy that he didn’t want to let me get away, that I meant something more to him than I thought, but I can’t believe it. I’m confused, wanting answers I’m too scared to ask for.

  The sensation of being watched warms my skin. My eyes shoot up to find a pair of dark blue eyes filled with surprise staring back at me.

  The smile on Chamberlain’s face falls as his pouty lips form an O and his eyes light up with delight, taking me in my entirety.

  This is not good.

  I can’t handle this. He thinks I’m here to see him. And I’m not! Does he think that after all of this time, I want something to do with him again? Maybe … no! No way! I have gotten through my family disowning me and moving almost two thousand miles away to live with a family member I never knew about until I left.

  Panic grips me as I reach for Beth’s hand and haul us out of our seats and to the nearest exit as fast as I can drag her. I ignore her calls for an answer and her questions as I guide us out of the arena. She’s isn’t much shorter than I am, but it doesn’t make it easy in heels to pull someone away in a rush.

  I’m falling all over myself in my heels, and I can’t think straight. I just know I cannot be here anymore. He knows I’m in Denver or at least the surrounding area.

  Please, don’t come find me.

  “K.C., what’s the matter?” I can’t speak. We reach the lobby just as one of the guys I saw with Chamberlain comes in front of us, trying to stop me.

  “Miss Cunningham! Mr. Lawrence w
ould like a word with you.” He effectively halts me for a moment at his plea. I look at the door and then at him.

  He recoils from the glare I shoot at him.

  How dare he want anything from me?

  Shaking all over, I give whatever strength I have left in me at the moment to speak. “You can tell Mr. Lawrence that I have nothing to say to him. And I never will.” I grab Beth’s hand again and lead us outside, searching for Bob’s car and driver.

  Thankfully, he is waiting right out front. When I spot the car, I jump in and give my address while pulling Beth in as well. At the moment, I don’t care if she wants to stay or not.

  It takes her a moment to process what just happened. I brace myself when her yell finally comes. “What the fuck, K.C.!” I run my hands through my hair and look at Beth’s pissed-off expression. “Mind filling me in?”

  Nodding, I turn in my seat. “It’s time I tell you about my past.” I run my hands down my stomach, something I do to calm me and look at my best friend. Thank God, we have a long ride back home.

  Chapter One

  FOUR YEARS AGO

  I was born a Cunningham part of a powerful, old money, upper-class family in Boston. My father, like my grandfather and great-grandfather before him, became a senator when he reached the appropriate age of thirty. Before that, he worked his way up through the ranks of political society, which wasn’t much since my family had been in the political eye for such a long time.

  My mother was and will always be the typical bored trophy wife who has nothing better to do than look down her fake nose at others, including her eldest daughter. My mother was bred to be the wife of someone important and give him children to carry on his name. Unfortunately, she had my sister and me. She did lose a child between us, a brother I learned early in life who would have been everything my parents ever dreamed of had he not died.

  So this left me the child holding the future power of the Cunningham legacy in my hands. I was groomed to be the next powerful politician in the family dynasty while, at the same time, I was expected to marry into an equally powerful family. A family of my parents’ choosing. From my earliest memory up until I left home at nineteen, I was to fulfill my parents’ wishes. Any dreams I had didn’t matter. Any goals for my life and anyone who I wanted to love were not allowed. I was not my own person. And I was tired of it.