by D. M. Davis
I should have called earlier. I was trying to be good, give her what she says she needs. Space. But fuck if that space isn’t strangling me. It’s just a fight, but anything can happen. No one’s died in the cage yet, but people have been seriously, irreparably fucked up. What if something happens, and I never took the chance to tell her how I really feel because I gave her the bullshit space she asked for?
Relinquishing my phone, I bounce and shadow box in the corner, my air pods blaring. My guys surround me, keeping me focused. But they don’t know she’s gotten in my head, under my skin, and dug in deep. Focus? How can I focus on anything but her?
Damn! What the fuck was I thinking? I knew she was a distraction. Why do you think you’ve been an ass her to all these years? For fun? I punch Walker in the shoulder.
“Bitch! What’s your problem?” He turns, facing me.
I nod to his hands, and he sticks ‘em up, palms out. I punch into them, fast, hard, but not hard enough to hurt his pansy-ass.
Coach pulls out one of my air pods. “Who are you?”
“Gabriel.”
“Gabriel who?”
“Gabriel No Mercy Stone!”
“Who are you?!” Coach, Walker, and Jonah all ask as one voice.
“Gabriel.”
“Gabriel who?!” they ask.
“Gabriel No Fucking Mercy Stone!” I roar.
“What are you doing here?” Heart racing, but still in control, I glance around the room, planning my escape—looking for a weapon.
“I had to see for myself, Ang.” The pain is evident in Austin’s voice, but his eyes are wild, and his skin is beading with sweat like he’s on something.
“You need to leave. Grant and Emmy will be here any second to watch the fight.”
He steps closer, backing me to the fireplace below the TV. “Now, that’s a lie. I saw Emmy leave. Even heard your conversation.”
He’s been here that long? “Austin.” I push his chest, but I’m no match. “You need to leave. The police are looking for you.”
His hand is around my neck before I can dodge it. He forces me against the mantel. “Why would that be? Did you tell them I raped you? Did you lie to get in Gabriel’s bed? Did he pity fuck you?”
“No!” I screech, losing my calm. I would never lie about being raped, but I did feel violated by his words, his assault on my arm, his cheating, and the way he left me injured on the floor like a discarded, broken toy instead of a person he cared about. “I didn’t tell them that. I told them the truth.” I try to push him off. “You hurt me.”
“Not as bad as I wanted to, Frankie.” His hold on my neck tightens. Austin has never laid a hand on me. He may have cheated on me, lied to me and broken my heart. But he never hurt me physically before the night he dislocated my shoulder. Now, he’s crazed. I don’t even know who this is standing before me.
“He hates you, you know,” he spits out.
I know. No, Gabriel is different now. God, I wish he were here. Austin never would’ve made it two feet into his house if he’d been here. Austin must have had a key. Is nowhere safe?
I can’t squelch my rising panic. I can breathe, but my hammering heart might make me pass out anyway.
“I can’t stand the look of you. The smell of you.” He holds me at arm’s length as he steps back, sneering down at me. His eyes lock on my breasts. I whimper under his scrutiny, regretting not wearing a bra.
He leans in, whispering in my ear, “Has he fucked all your holes? Does he fuck your mouth till you gag?” He squeezes.
I claw at his arm, clamoring for air.
He cuts it off.
The pressure pounds behind my eyes. I have seconds. My thoughts race to Gabriel. What if I never see him again? The thought has me pleading with the man I used to love, “Please,” I mouth.
He releases me.
I fall, choking, to the floor, shaking my head. “No,” my voice is raspy and tight.
“Does he make you come, Ang?” He squats before me, tipping my chin till my eyes meet his. I’m shocked to find tears streaming down his face. “Are you his now?”
“What do you care? We’re done. You can’t hurt me like you did and expect to come back like nothing happened.” I slap his hand away and scramble far enough to stand, placing the couch between us. “You think I want to be with a cheater? Someone who hurts me?”
He moves toward me but catches himself, tugging at his hair in frustration. “I couldn’t stand the look in your eyes. Your love. Your expectations. Your loyalty. So damn fucking loyal, Ang. I’ve fucked around for years, even before the car accident. And still, you were loyal to a fault.”
Jesus. “Get out.” I reach around the corner to the house phone on the other side of the kitchen wall, the verbal knife he just speared me with fanning my determination.
“I loved you, Frankie—"
“You have a fucked-up way of showing it!” Holding the wireless handset out of sight, I punch in 9-1-1 and hit what I hope is the talk button. I’m pelted with relief when I hear the soft ringing.
He shakes his head, defeat written all over his demeanor. “I couldn’t stand up to the weight of your expectations.”
“I had no expectations of you, Austin, other than the promises you made.” I point at him with the phone in my hand as the operator answers. “You promised to love and protect me!” I step forward, the knowledge that help is coming emboldening my resolve. “I would have loved you to the end of days, Austin. I would have given you everything!”
He backs up, shoulders sagging. “I know. I know you would’ve. But I couldn’t.”
A muffed woman’s voice says something about police being on their way. I bring the phone to my ear. “Call Grant Malone. Tell him Austin is at Gabriel’s house. Now.” I drop it on the couch, leaving the line open. If I keep the phone in my hand, he’ll see how badly I’m shaking. I can’t let him see my fear. “It’s time for you to go, Austin.”
“I know.” He moves to the door. “I really just came to apologize.”
“Well, that was a shit-ass apology.” I cross my arms, moving toward him, acting braver than I feel.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He opens the door and steps out and down the stairs.
He didn’t mean to hurt me?! “You acted like you were the one saving me from my childhood, but you always needed me more than I needed you.” Grabbing the door handle, I start to close it, but stop when I hear sirens in the distance. “You hurt me worse than my father ever did—ever could.”
“Frankie,” his voice quavers. His anger dissipates, completely replaced by a sorrowful man I nearly recognize.
“You’re a lying, cheating sack of shit. I don’t know what happened to you, Austin, but you aren’t the boy I fell in love with or the man I’d hoped to marry. I’m ashamed I invested so much of myself in you. For what? To be cheated on, lied to, and physically abused? I don’t think so. Go fuck yourself. I’m done.”
With that, I slam the door, locking it for safe measure, and sink to the floor in a pile of useless tears and shattered dreams. What the hell happened to us? When did he change into a stranger? Was he always such a monster, and I was too blind to see it? I feared I might want to take him back if I saw him again. But the second his anger sparked, I knew I could never love him again. I can’t love someone I can’t trust—someone who would treat me like that.
He broke us. He smashed what we had into irreparable pieces—even if I could, I wouldn’t want to put us back together.
It’s the last round, and the Russian is putting up a better fight than I thought he would. He slipped in a few hits and kicks I never would’ve allowed had I not been distracted.
Jonah greases the cut above my left eye. “Your concentration is for shit, Gabriel.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” I breathe out, taking a swig of water.
He glances over my shoulder to Coach. “They don’t want me to tell you, but—"
“What?” I look between them, a new wav
e of adrenaline hitting my veins.
“It’s Frankie. She called the cops from your house. Austin showed up,” Jonah rapid fires.
“Motherfucker!” I stand, ready to blow this fight. “She’s alright?”
“Yeah, she’s with Grant.” Jonah gives my shoulder a squeeze. “She’s good.”
Coach pushes me back to my stool. “Finish this. Then go get your girl.”
He’s right. If I win this, I’m guaranteed an invite to the next tournament—the one I want, the one I’ve been training for.
“Make sure I’m on the next flight available. I don’t care if it’s an hour from now. I’m on it. Fuck the press conference.” I stand. The Russian has no idea what he’s up against. “I’m done playing with this asswipe.”
The bell rings. The Russian starts mumbling in his native tongue. I have no doubt it’s slurs about my manhood, my mother, or my girl. It’s all wasted on me. I don’t see him. I don’t hear him. The only face I see is Austin’s, and he’s a dead man.
I’m known for my power punches, my takedowns. But I’m not taking him to the floor. I don’t have time for that. I’ve played around with this guy long enough. It’s time he felt the full force of Gabriel No Mercy Stone.
I let the Russian have one hit. It barely grazes my jaw. I let its force turn my body as if it’s packs a wallop. But really, I’m using the momentum to fuel my pivot, coming back at him with a left jab to the jaw, wiping the smugness off his face. He doesn’t even recover before I follow with a straight right to the other side of his jaw. The jerk of his head, the blood gushing from his mouth, the roll of his eyes are confirmation enough he’s on his way down, but to be sure, I finish him with a left hook.
I back away, bouncing, waiting as he crumples to the mat with a heavy whomp. The shrill of the crowd is deafening.
I’m declared the winner by KO.
It’s a blur of activity from there: out of the cage, up the ramp, a two-minute shower, dressed in street clothes, orders given to the team, and I’m on my way to the airport.
“Do you want more tea?” Emmy circles like a mother hen.
“No, I’m good. Thank you.”
“Want something stronger?” Grant offers, checking his phone for the hundredth time.
“No. Thanks.” I gave my statement at the house before Grant brought me home to his, where a waiting Emmy paced at the door. She squished me in a hug, only letting go at Grant’s urging.
Their house is a buzz of activity. Gwen is with her grandparents, so there’s no reason to shush the noisy cops milling around like they’re waiting for something. They weren’t at Gabriel’s so I’m assuming they were here watching the fight before Grant got pulled away.
They caught Austin before he could leave Gabriel’s neighborhood. He didn’t put up a fight. He went peacefully. Seems his fight was all for me.
It’s hours later. I’m tired. I’d like to lie down, but I don’t want to be alone. I know I’m safe. It’s just—
“Angel.”
I whip around so fast I lose my balance. Gabriel catches me before I cause myself any harm. “You’re here.”
He straightens me in his arms. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He touches my cheek, scanning my face.
But he was somewhere else. “You won. You should be celebrating in LA.” I notice the cut above his eye and then the busted lip. My fingers itch to touch, to investigate his injuries. I take in his chest, his arms, as if I can see through his clothes. “You okay?”
“Fuck, Angel. I’m not the one who was attacked.” He pulls me into a hug. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” My voice cracks as I nod into his chest. The emotions that left me the moment the police arrived to find me huddled on the entry floor come back full force. I was so scared, but more than anything, I feared I’d never see Gabriel again. Austin took so much from me. Would he take Gabriel from me too? Austin said Gabriel hated me, but he’s here. He rushed home to my side. That matters. I grip him tighter.
He sinks his fingers into my hair, lifting my face to his. “No, you’re not.” He swipes at my tears.
“I am,” I sob.
He chuckles. “My Angel, always so strong and brave.” He holds me against his chest as I cry.
The noisy room behind us quiets. I hope they’ve left instead of standing there staring at the spectacle I’m sure I am.
“It’s alright. I’ve got you.” He rubs circles on my back. “You’re safe.”
I didn’t realize he was what I was waiting for. Emmy offered me the guestroom bed, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be alone, but more importantly, I was hoping he’d come for me and take me home. “I was afraid if I fell asleep, you wouldn’t come. You wouldn’t wake me up. You wouldn’t take me home.”
“I would have. I would’ve crawled in bed with you and held you all night.” His lips graze my forehead. “But I’m glad you’re awake and dressed so I can take you home.”
We find Grant and Emmy in the kitchen. He’s holding her close. She’s clearly shaken by what’s happened. Maybe it hit too close to home, brought up skeletons from her past.
I try to apologize for upsetting her, but she and Grant quickly shut me down.
With a brief exchange and borrowed keys, Gabriel walks me to Grant’s car.
I didn’t even know I’d fallen asleep until he’s carrying me up his stairs. “You’ve got to be sore after your fight. I can walk.”
“Shh, no more protesting. No more acting brave. Let me take care of you.” He sets me on his bed. A soft smile curves his lips as his thumb grazes mine. He pulls his shirt off, toes off his shoes, and undoes his jeans before kneeling before me. “I need a shower.” He takes off my shoes. “You’re coming with me.”
“You smell freshly showered.” I touch his shoulder, cupping his face. “You need arnica on your cuts, your muscles.”
He stands, pulling my shirt over my head. I’m thankful I was clearheaded enough to put on a bra before leaving with Grant. His gaze falls to my chest and moves up to my neck. His fingers gently follow. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“It’s not your fault.” I capture his hand before he notices the marks left by Austin’s grip on my neck.
Gabriel scoops me in his arms. Stepping into the bathroom, he doesn’t turn on the lights. He sets me on the counter, squeezing my hips before moving away to turn on the shower. When he faces me again, he moves slower, shrugging off his jeans as he nears. “Let me wash away the pain he caused.”
I want that. But I stop his hands as he reaches for the clasp of my bra. “He said you hated me.” I don’t want to believe anything Austin said, but this needs to be addressed. I can’t be with Gabriel believing he hates me.
His hand grips the back of my neck, tilting my head back. “He lied.” His blue eyes are pools of languid truth. “I hated the way you made me feel.”
Leaning into his touch, I ask what I’m afraid to, “How did I make you feel?”
“Like I was losing my mind. You loved him, but I wanted you.”
“I can’t be one of the many.” I’m not asking for forever. I just can’t feel like I mean nothing to him.
He leans forward, in my face. “You’ve never been one of anything. You’ve always been the one and only.” His lips touch mine, reverently and all too briefly.
I unclasp my bra, sliding it slowly down my arms.
His hands and eyes trail my every movement. “I might have been angry with you for loving him instead of me. But I never hated you, Angel.” He pulls me to my feet, sliding my yoga pants and panties off. “I never could.” He kisses up my stomach, between my breasts, working his way to my neck, then ear as he stands.
Lit with need and shaking from exhaustion, I manage to stay on my feet when he removes his boxer briefs. I suck in a breath at the sight of him naked, his bruised ribs, his face and lip, cut. His strong legs supporting his impressive form, and at his center, a raging-hard cock.
Cupping my ass, he pulls me flush against him, his h
ands kneading my flesh. “Let me take care of you. Let me worship you.”
The naughty girl in me screams yes, please! The good girl in me screams it’s about time!
I nod my acquiescence, and two seconds later he’s devouring my mouth. It’s a slow and sensual kiss, backed by urgency and suppressed lust. We’re breathless when he pulls back. “I’ve waited five years to do that.” He leads me into the shower, my hand in his.
I only get a few seconds of water wetting my hair before he backs me to the wall. “And I’ve waited just as long to do this.” He lowers to his knees, slinging my leg over his shoulder as he holds me steady with a splayed hand across my stomach, his eyes on mine. “I’m sorry if you’re tired, Angel. It might be a while before I get my fill.”
I gasp when he buries his nose in my pussy, separating my folds with his tongue. “A long fucking while,” he murmurs against my skin, sending goosebumps rippling across my body.
“God, Gabriel.” I grip his head and shoulder. He’s so dirty and delicious.
“God’s not here, Frankie. It’s only you and me.”
My Angel tastes like heaven and moans like a siren from hell sent to torture me, test my willpower. I delve in deep, my tongue missing no crevice, having no mercy.
“Oh, God.”
“Gabriel.” I open my eyes, taking in her flushed skin, tight as hell nips, and undulating body trying to fuck the air, and smile. I’ve fantasized about this. I’ve jerked off to this. “When it’s my mouth tasting you, when it’s my cock fucking you, it’s my name on your lips.”
She holds my face in her hands. The mix of tenderness and want in her eyes has me wanting to spout words I’ve never said before. I’ve never felt before. But the next words out of her mouth save me from such fairytales, “Then fuck me already.”
I’d planned on making her come a couple of times before taking her to bed—to take her. I stand, exploring my way to her breasts, feeling them for the first time. God, these breasts. “Angel, I’m not fucking you for the first time in the shower.” I hardly recognize my voice, full of lust and a need to conquer. I’ve always been possessive of Frankie. Whenever Austin got handsy, I avoided them like they had the plague. My time in the service was a reprieve from their love. This is my chance, and I’m not screwing it up by fucking her for the first time in the shower like a ring-chaser I picked up at a bar.