“What in the hell is your problem? You do realize that this is a restaurant filled with cops, don’t you? Do you want to get hauled off to jail?”
He swore at me and the next thing I knew a rock came flying at my head. At first I thought it was just a little pebble, but suddenly I was on the ground looking up at the early-morning sky and I could feel blood leaking down across my face. I blinked to try to get my bearings when a heavy kick thudded into my side. The homeless guy loomed over me, looked like he wanted to say something, but when I went to pick myself up off the ground, he took off running.
My head was throbbing. I could tell by the amount of blood oozing that I had a nasty gash and my ribs were screaming from the blow. What in the hell? This wasn’t supposed to happen here. Denver was supposed to be my sanctuary. If I was going to get jumped in the parking lot walking to work, I might as well just go back home . . . where it would never happen because no one messed with the girl that Nassir Gates had claimed as his own.
I rubbed the back of my hand across my bloody forehead and frowned in the direction the homeless guy had taken off in. It was a random and completely unprovoked attack. It was almost like someone had put the guy up to it. I groaned as I climbed to my feet and dusted off the back of my jeans. I would bet a million dollars someone had put the homeless guy up to jumping me.
I knew my devil never played fair and that he was capable of doing anything . . . regardless of the outcome, to get his own way. Pushing didn’t work. Tempting didn’t work. So he had resorted to trying to scare me home. The prick. I was probably going to have another scar to go with the one on my chest.
Too bad he didn’t know the only thing in the world I was actually afraid of was him.
Chapter 2
Nassir
“Surprised to see you flying solo, boss. I figured that even if she told you to take a hike, you woulda hauled her back over your shoulder.”
The light in the office gleamed off Chuck’s bald head and made his ebony skin glimmer as he chuckled at me. I shoved my hands through my long hair and sighed.
“I thought about it. She’s dug in, and right now there’s no shaking her loose.”
“You’ve been paying that PI in Colorado to keep an eye on her. He didn’t tell you any of that?”
I sighed again and curled my fingers into my hair. “He did. He told me she has a routine, keeps to herself, and seems to be doing all right for herself. All I heard was that she’s slipped into a predictable pattern, and that makes her an easy target. I thought seeing me would shake her up.”
Chuck grunted and unfolded his massive frame from the love seat he dwarfed. He smoothed his silk tie down the front of his shirt and tugged on its pressed cuffs. I knew for a fact the cuff links in the sleeves were sporting lots of flawless diamonds surrounded by real gold. The man was a snappy dresser, which was just another reason I had no trouble letting him represent me and my business interests.
“I think seeing you might give her nightmares, boss. The girl survived in hell for most of her life and now she’s living the dream on easy street. She made it out. You should be happy for her, not trying to drag her back into the sludge.”
“The dream is not waiting tables at some run-down greasy spoon and pretending to be someone she’s not. Beautiful things grow in the sludge, my friend. Haven’t you ever seen a lotus flower?”
Chuck grinned at me again and cuffed me on the outside of the arm. He was so big and so strong the simple gesture almost knocked me over. I scowled at him and pushed off the desk.
“Key isn’t a flower. She’s a girl that got put into a hard spot way too young and has always done everything she had to do in order to survive. Sound familiar?”
I didn’t answer.
Not many people knew about where I had been before I called the Point home, but Chuck did. When I offered him the job as my head of security, he had agreed only as long as he knew who exactly it was he was going to work for. I gave him the same old song and dance I gave anyone when they asked about my past, but Chuck was smart. He was halfway out the door before I realized he was serious, so begrudgingly I laid it all out for him. Who I was and the things I had done . . . he hadn’t run. Hadn’t even blinked an eye, just told me that was a sad story but there were a million more like it in the Point, so I better stop thinking I was special and that I should quit using my past as an excuse for all my shitty actions.
“You have the fight set up for tonight?” I walked around the metal desk and took a seat behind it. In my old office, my desk was hand-carved mahogany and it took an army of strong backs to move across the floor. I missed the finer things in life, so with or without Keelyn here to take the spot I kept reserved by my side, I needed to get the ball rolling on the new club. The club had started all about her and as a way to bring her home and keep her here, but now the new club had to be all about the bottom dollar. I couldn’t wait any longer on the business part. I felt like I could wait on the girl forever, was pretty sure I had been.
“Race set it up. He brought in a ringer from Vegas to take on that grease monkey that works for Bax who’s been unstoppable the last few weekends.”
Race was a good partner. He understood money and the lengths people would go to get it and how easily they would spend it when you offered them something they wanted. He was crafty and understood the tricky ebb and flow of the streets. He didn’t trust me. It was always good to have a partner that was watching what you did like a hawk. It kept me as honest as I was ever going to get, and when I tried to cross the invisible line from shady into downright evil, he was usually the one there to pull me back from the edge. We didn’t like each other very much but we made a good team, and as long as the money kept rolling in, I had no problems sharing the profit or the reins with him.
“Bax know about the ringer? He’s gonna be pissed if we take his guy out.” Shane Baxter, Bax to those that had watched him run the streets since he was just a punk kid, was Race’s best friend and pretty much the undisputed gatekeeper of the city. He used to boost cars for the old crime boss and he was still helping Race collect debts that were owed on the side. Not much went down or happened in the Point without Bax’s approval. He was also Novak’s son and the half brother of the cop that was screwing the knockout I hired to manage my strip club. The big bruiser also used to be one of the top earners in the circle of blood. The boy was connected and not someone I actively tried to piss off even if the way he had of going about things was far brasher than how I liked to operate.
Chuck dipped his chin in a nod. “Race told him, and the kid still says he wants a piece of the guy. He’s running high on multiple wins and all the money he’s been making. His ego is making choices his skull is going to pay the price for when it hits the concrete. Bax warned the kid, but he don’t wanna listen.”
I looked at my watch and pressed the palm of one hand over the fingers of the other so I could crack my knuckles. “Pull the kid. I’ll take the ringer on. It’ll be a more evenly matched fight and Bax won’t be all over my ass if one of his guys gets annihilated. The kid can have the fight next weekend.”
Chuck’s dark eyes widened and he blew a long breath out of his nose that made his nostrils flare out at me. “Shit, Nassir, again?”
I nodded and stilled as some of the guilt and desperation that fueled my actions to get my girl back home swirled in my gut. When I didn’t get my way, when a situation was out of my control, it made everything inside of me go nuclear. I had to have an outlet for it. Most of the time I used sex. Some of the time I used violence. I had never felt the need to get in the ring before Key had left, but now it was a common occurrence. I had earned more money on the rigged fights in the last few months than Bax used to rake in back in his heyday, and I wasn’t even as close to being as big and brawny as the former car thief. No, I didn’t have a heavy bulk like most of the guys in the ring. What I worked with was training, cunning, and enough bodies on my hands that adding another one never caused me any kind of hesitation
. I was never actually fighting the opponent in the ring with me, so size didn’t matter. I was fighting myself. Fighting the things I couldn’t control. Fighting the urge to simply take without asking and ruin any chance I had at forever with the one person I had ever wanted to promise that to.
That meant I never lost.
Guys three times my size went down. Guys with weapons were disarmed and snoring by the time I was done. Guys that fought professionally were taken out with a single, deadly move. Guys that were amateur brawlers didn’t stand a chance and posed zero challenge, which was why I only wanted the ringers, the guys we brought in to fight mean and dirty and that took no prisoners. Tonight especially. It wasn’t often that I allowed myself to dwell in old hatred and self-loathing. I accepted the man and the monster that I was. But resorting to fear tactics, to underhanded dealings with unknown entities to try to get my girl back home, was something else entirely . . . and the disgust that was boiling in my blood told me I needed to let someone hurt me for her. I deserved it and so much worse, but I wouldn’t even feel the punishment because my insides were numb.
She sent me away.
I tapped my fingers on the desk and met Chuck’s hard look with one of my own. “This will be the last one. We need to get the club open. I can’t wait for her any longer.”
He smoothed his tie again and flashed me a grin that had a hint of gold in it. “’Bout time. That beauty has been sitting there just waiting for her chance to shine.”
The waiting list to be a member of the exclusive club was a mile long and was not only full of the people from the Point. Many of the upper echelon of the Hill—the ritzy, expensive part of the city whose residents had just as much money as I did but not nearly as much fun making it—wanted in too.
“Move Booker into your old spot here. I want Reeve to have someone on hand at all times in case something gets stirred up on the floor. She likes him and that’ll keep him out of Race’s sight.”
Noah Booker was another knee breaker like Chuck, only younger and a little bit more of a wildcard. His loyalty still hadn’t been proven through and through, so it was never clear if he was working for me or working for himself while I footed the bill, but the bastard was calculating, scarred, and seemingly bulletproof. Aside from the fact that there was some bad blood between him and Race that still hadn’t been hashed out, he was an asset, so I always tried to utilize him where I could.
“I’ll get everything situated.”
“I know you will.”
He moved to the door and paused for a moment after he pulled it open. Immediately loud dance music flooded the office. I rubbed my forehead. I hated the music the girls danced to. I would be happy to retreat into my own space once I had the new club up and running. Even with Reeve Black, the new club manager who was sprucing this joint up and making it less garish and revolting, it still wasn’t a place I felt comfortable in. I liked the finer things. I liked the best and that was what I was surrounding myself with in my new space. It was time to live like a king. Not the black knight I’d always been.
“I know you miss your girl, but no amount of fighting or fucking is going to fix that, boss. You need to figure something else out if she really isn’t coming back.”
He pulled the door shut behind him with a soft click and I had to fight the urge to smash my forehead into the desk once I was alone. It was a day full of frustration and disappointment. I just couldn’t fathom a world that she wasn’t a part of . . . and yet we had never even kissed.
I was only after the best and Keelyn Foster was the best. She was undeniably beautiful. She was sexy. She was full of attitude and fight. She was strong. She was street savvy. She was my equal in every single way. I had wanted her from the first instant I saw her, when she was just a scared kid stuck under an abusive blob of a man, a kid who was doing everything in her power to escape, to fight for herself, while Ernie, the old club owner, looked the other way. When I pulled the asshole off of her, she had looked up at me with those clear, perfect gray eyes like I was her hero and I think I knew then she was the one I would hold above all else. We were a match made in hell.
Disgusted with myself and the unpredictable things I set in motion out of desperation, I sent Race a text letting him know I was taking over the kid’s spot in the fight tonight, and wasn’t surprised when all he sent back was a question mark.
We were partners, not friends, so I didn’t feel like I had to explain myself to him. He was the one that handled the money on the bets, so I knew he needed to know that I was the one going into the circle to keep the spread alive with the betters. The odds would be in the other guy’s favor just because he was a pro, but most of the die-hard fight fans knew we only brought in the best of the best to take on a proven winner. The way we made money was when the underdog won, shocking the entire room by pulling a win out at the last minute. I wasn’t an underdog by any stretch of the imagination, but I had a reputation as a guy that pulled strings rather than got my hands dirty. Little did anyone know I had been born with filthy palms, stained with blood and devastation. No amount of scrubbing would ever get them clean.
I checked in with Reeve, stuck my head in the dressing room to see how the girls were doing, and made a few calls to check on the escorts and the guys running the card games before heading over to the gym. Maybe I should’ve changed out of my tailored slacks and hand-tooled, Italian leather belt, but I didn’t see the point. I left on my expensive shoes and pristine white, button-up shirt as well. I did take off my Rolex and hand it off to Chuck, who was already waiting among the hungry crowd. He just shook his head at me and flashed that gold-toothed grin.
Race was across the ring with the fighter he had brought in from Vegas. The guy was huge, and very intent when he locked eyes on me, obviously ready to get down to business. Race frowned at me, which elicited a shrug in return. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find a new partner if I ended up a pile of broken bones after the event. I didn’t mistake his annoyance for concern as I started to pull off my shirt. I was ready for the rest of me to hurt like my soul did when Keelyn told me I was dead to her.
I heard a few gasps from behind me when the tattoo that ran from the base of my neck to the base of my spine was revealed. I didn’t look like the kind of guy that would be sporting a full back piece, but the black-and-gray image of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse had a lot of meaning to me, and the endless hours I had spent getting the ink driven into my skin were a sacrifice I was happy to make in order to sport the living tapestry. It was just one more way I tended to shock those that thought they had me all figured out. No one really knew about the horrors that had spawned me.
“You ready to do this, boss?” Chuck folded my shirt over his arm and scowled at an overly eager girl as she tried to grab for my arm while we made our way to the edge of the circle.
“I’m always ready.” It was a cliché, but also achingly accurate. If you weren’t ready for the inevitable shit life was going to throw at you, then you were never going to make it.
The guy across from me had a warrior’s stance and the flinty gaze of a man not just fighting for a win but for his pride and name. There wouldn’t be a hidden blade with this one. There wouldn’t be a drug-fueled advantage that made him slippery and unpredictable. It was going to be a brutal mashing of fists and feet and we were both going to bleed—me by choice, him because he was bound to underestimate his opponent. It was exactly what I needed after my shitty day in Denver.
One defeat today was one too many.
Chapter 3
Keelyn
This boy was good with his mouth . . . and with his hands.
He also seemed to be really sweet and invested in putting far more effort into getting me naked than he needed to. I put it right out there that if he came home with me I was pretty much a sure thing, but he was still doing his best to seduce me with kisses and woo me with kind words. None of it felt right, so I kept focusing on the pleasant way it felt when his lips touched mine and the way
his corrugated abs felt as I ran my fingers across them. If I did that I could block out the fact that his hair was shaggy but not long enough, and that it was brown and not raven’s-wing black. I could also ignore that he was as pale as I was, and not a beautiful tawny golden-brown color.
He was too nice, too soft, and too easy. He kept telling me how pretty I was, how nice my body was, and kept saying he couldn’t believe how lucky he was that I had picked him out of all the other hipsters and locals that frequented the Bar.
He was lucky.
I didn’t know his name, couldn’t recall the color of his eyes if I wasn’t looking at him directly, and every time he opened his mouth to give me another compliment I wanted to scream at him to be quiet. He sounded like he was from the Midwest, not like he was from another country that I would never see. He was all wrong, and I hated Nassir even more for making it feel that way.
I liked sex. Liked the way it made me feel, and often the things it could get me. I never shied away from taking what I wanted and fulfilling my own needs and desires, but as this too cute and too simple boy moved his hands up my chest and started to fumble with my very expensive bra, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to block out the wrongness of this anymore. His hesitation annoyed me. His blundering hands frustrated me, and no matter how hot his body was or how fun his kisses were, there was no getting around that he wasn’t who I wanted. Frankly, he couldn’t handle me, even this watered-down version of me, so there was no way he could give the real me anything close to what I really wanted or needed.
That was Nassir’s fault.
Damn him for showing up and reminding me about everything I left behind. I longed to hate him. He tainted everything, and now his stupid handsome face was all I could see while this guy pawed at my boobs like they were a matched set of stress-relieving balls. Granted they were as fake as a three-dollar bill, but they were still sensitive and deserved to be appreciated for the work of art they were. Now that things were heating up, the guy had lost some of his finesse and was getting grabby and anxious. I hated desperation in a man. It reminded me too much of the lonely guys that used to come into Spanky’s looking for a cheap thrill. He wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want him here, so there was no need to rush . . . only now, with gleaming bronze-colored eyes taunting me, I was no longer in the mood.
Honor Page 4