by Quinn, Cari
For all I knew, she’d never even been to a fight. Maybe her neighbor bet on them and talked too much. Or her boyfriend. Could even be the one with the ready fists aimed at her face.
Clenching my hands in the pocket of my sweatshirt, I walked faster. I needed to get this handled. I had plenty on my mind already, and loose ends pissed me off.
That jacket would be back in my possession tonight. Mia could count on it.
Six
“You sound even more wasted than usual. Were you out partying last night?”
No matter how bleak my world seemed, my baby sister’s bubbly voice always made me feel better. Sometimes I wondered if she was honestly that happy all the time, but we both played the game. She acted cheerful, and I didn’t ask too many questions.
“Partying on a Monday? No way. Some of us work, kid.” Not that I’d been working last night, either at the gym or the bar. But Carly didn’t know I’d been curled up in the fetal position on my couch, sucking on root beer popsicles to soothe my sore lips while I watched grainy tape of one particular fighter’s matches over and over.
The guy whose coat I’d burrowed under last night when I couldn’t get warm.
“You can party any night of the week once you’re old enough. By the way, it’s only a month away now, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re almost eighteen. Like I could ever forget. I hope you don’t think that means you’re getting a license to go buck wild.”
She snorted out a laugh. “With you around? And Aunt Patty?”
We both knew Aunt Patty wasn’t much of a deterrent. I appreciated that she’d taken my sister in when I couldn’t, and she’d taken care of her for the past six and a half years. She’d also taken care of me for almost three. Unfortunately, our aunt considered financial support the extent of her duty toward her dead brother’s children. She’d never been emotionally present for Carly or me.
“Aunt Patty won’t be part of the picture much longer.”
“I know.” Her voice lowered. “Have you figured out where we’re going yet?”
As if I ever thought about anything else. I had a stack of brochures on my coffee table that I’d been collecting for the past couple of years. I’d ordered them from every Chamber of Commerce I could think of, wanting to make sure we considered all viable choices. Obviously, money was a factor, but I lived in a crappy place and socked away every penny I could so we’d have as many options as possible. The classes I’d been taking online would eventually allow me to get a job in an interior design place as a trainee. As long as I could find a position that didn’t tie me to a desk all day, I’d be okay. I hated being trapped anywhere for long.
Your fault. You got in that car. No one forced you.
I coiled the cord from the old school phone around my wrist and rested my aching head against the wall. I’d woken up with a headache, and it just wouldn’t go away no matter how many ibuprofens I popped. Thank God the convenience store on the corner was open twenty-four hours, because I’d had to visit in the middle of the night. “I’m working on it. How do you feel about Louisiana? Or…Georgia?”
Carly’s long pause revealed her disappointment. “Aww, Ame.”
Swallowing hard, I shut my eyes. She would never understand why I believed even returning to the place we’d had happy times as a child was better than staying in New York, where all we’d had was pain. Instead, I focused on a safer topic. “How’s school?”
“Fine. All Bs as usual.”
“Great job. But why not As?”
“Because I’m not a super nerd like you?”
I sighed. She loved to throw that at me whenever I mentioned school. The irony of our lives was that I’d been the one who’d lived in the library and had only been a cheerleader to show my school spirit, and she was the one who was on varsity for both tennis and swimming and couldn’t fathom why I’d ever started fighting.
Well, besides the money. She understood that part.
But she didn’t get climbing into a cage and facing an opponent who wanted nothing more than to make me bleed. She didn’t understand that I pummeled my self-doubt and loathing every time my fist or my foot connected with a heavy bag or, better yet, flesh.
I lived for the blissful exhaustion that came after, wiping everything away but the satisfaction of victory. I might not be able to triumph in any other area of my life, but here I could. Here I mattered. In the ring, people knew me as a winner. Not a victim. Not someone to be pitied or feared, in case my bad luck rubbed off.
“You can do better, Car. You know you can. I’m not asking you for anything you’re not capable of.”
“Uh-huh. I know. Believe me, I’ve heard your speech before.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked, desperate for more confirmation that my sister wasn’t screwed up like I was.
Hopefully, her boyfriend would be quiet and steady and safe. A nice boy. Those still existed, right?
Kenny Talerico had been my first and only boyfriend. At thirteen, the occasional kiss and group date had seemed daring. We’d broken up a while before I got into Darren’s car. Maybe things would have been different if Kenny and I had stayed together. I wouldn’t have been as innocent when Darren had flashed that wide smile and asked how far I had left to walk. Perhaps I would’ve realized that no one got something for nothing, not even a ride from a handsome stranger on a sweltering sunny day.
I hadn’t been on a real date since Kenny. It had also been almost six months since I’d taken any money from one of the guys at the bar who wanted a backroom BJ. The first time a man offered me money, I was shocked. But that guy had interpreted my desire to pleasure him as part of a menu of services rather than my pathetic attempt at control, and I hadn’t refused the cash. How could I? Back then, I was living on tips while I tried to get respect at the gym.
Eventually, it got easier. I stopped crying after. Stopped wanting to throw up. I started insisting on a strict condom policy. Now no one got in my mouth—or any other part of me—at all. I liked it that way.
After I beat Fox, I’d never have to barter my flesh again.
Carly’s long sigh brought me back to the conversation. The pauses between us were becoming more frequent, the silences more telling. She was my best friend, the only family I really counted as mine, and I’d be damned if I lost her too.
“No, Ame. No boyfriend.” She swallowed audibly. “Not anymore.”
Aww, shit. I bit my lip and cursed at the new trickle of blood. In the light of day, I didn’t look as bad as I’d feared. My new concealer had helped big time, but the cut lips were a problem. The top one had a shallow scratch. The bottom? Hurt like hell.
“What happened, honey?” I asked softly, my throat aching
“Nothing happened. We got together, we hung out for a while, he got back with his ex. I knew he wasn’t for real but I liked the way he made me feel.” She sighed again. “You know?”
I didn’t, but I figured she wanted me to agree. “Yes. I’m sorry. He doesn’t deserve you.”
She laughed. “You don’t think anyone deserves your little sis.”
“Damn straight. If he doesn’t treat you like gold, show him the door.”
“How about you? Who deserves you?”
My teeth approached my lip, but I dug my nails into my palm instead. As bad as I felt for her, I’d gladly escape into her high school romantic tragedy rather than deal with my own reality. “I’m happy on my own.”
“No, you’re not.” Carly’s voice choked up, and for a second, I thought she was crying.
My heart clenched, but I didn’t speak. Couldn’t. For some reason I didn’t understand, I glanced at the beat-up leather jacket on my couch. It smelled so good. Rich, masculine, fresh like a sunny day on the beach. Like a life I’d had so long ago for such a brief slice of time. Even back then, I was never the girl with the hot, protective boyfriend, the one with eyes like jewels and big hands to keep me safe. I’d lived in the shadows for so long, seeking out punches so
that at least I could control which direction they came from next.
Now I wanted him to hurt me, so I could hurt him right back. Fox had given me his jacket, and I wanted his blood.
A few minutes later, Carly told me she had to get back to study hall. And I had to get back to…nothing. I’d already visited the gym and spent an hour sparring with Kizzy. She was the only friend I had except for my sister, who had no choice but to be friends with me. Okay, so that wasn’t true, but sometimes I almost believed it when the familiar fear of her vanishing from my life surfaced. She wouldn’t leave me, voluntarily or otherwise, and I wouldn’t leave her.
One way or another, we’d find a way to be happy.
Since I didn’t have anything better to do and I needed cash, I decided to throw myself on Carmine’s mercy. I was one of the hardest working bartenders he had, and I didn’t call in sick. Surely he’d cut me some slack for yelling at him and calling him a dickhead.
And giving him the finger. Twice.
I changed into my black capris and snug black T-shirt with Vinnie’s across the front. There was no Vinnie, just Carmine, but he thought Vinnie’s was a more accessible Italian name for a bar.
I’d been scheduled to work that afternoon and would be showing up a full half hour early. See, I had employee of the month written all over me.
On the way out the door, I looked at the jacket again, sitting so innocuously on my shit-brown couch. A tapestry of scars marred the supple leather, an irresistible invitation to run my palm over the sleeve. The inside was thickly lined with a silky fabric that made me want to rub my cheek over the material.
I wasn’t ready to return it. Or to see him again.
The next time we met, I intended to convince him to fight me, and now was too soon. I was too raw from the power of his aqua blue eyes drilling into me, right through flesh and bone.
Next time, I would be prepared. No opponent caught me unaware twice.
I pulled out the handful of mail I’d shoved in the jacket’s left pocket last night and tossed it on the side table. Bills mostly. Those would wait. My fingers drifted over a slight thickening in the collar area and I felt around until I found a small, almost undetectable zipper. I opened the strangely placed pocket and came up with a shiny penny, which I promptly put on the coffee table.
Look at that. I’d only known Fox for less than a day, and I’d already made some money.
Giving in to impulse, I slipped on the jacket. It cradled me, wrapping me in a shroud of warmth. I shivered and tucked my nose into the collar, drawing strength from the already recognizable smell. Leather and smoke, sweat and aftershave. Shamelessly, I took another pull and closed my eyes as heat sizzled over my skin. I’d awakened with my face hidden in the depths of the coat, and I’d never forget the momentary sense of safety Fox’s comforting scent had given me.
If I was crazy, at least I kept it to myself.
A pair of gloves were tucked in the other pocket. They were thick leather, the kind made for doing heavy yardwork. I pulled them on and smiled at how they dwarfed my hands. But they were so toasty and soft inside that I couldn’t bring myself to take them off.
Grabbing my purse, I locked up and hurried downstairs. Bright sunshine beamed into my eyes the second I opened the outside door, and lucky me, my sunglasses were upstairs on the coffee table. I sighed. At least the walk to Vinnie’s wouldn’t take long.
Ten minutes later, I tugged open the door to the bar and stepped into the cool darkness. The familiar sounds washed over me. In the back, balls clacked together on the pool tables, and from the bar area, bottles and glasses clinked. The juke was playing tinny country, a common occurrence during the late lunch rush. Johnny Cash was singing about rings of fire. I smiled, figuring it was a good omen. My mom had sung Johnny’s songs to me when I was a baby, and his voice brought back happier times.
As my gaze swept the room again, my smile faded.
Fox slouched against the bar, elbows back in a relaxed pose. He wore a lazy expression that didn’t match the burning intensity of his eyes. Eyes that were trained, unblinkingly, on me.
“Well, hello there.” One corner of his mouth crooked up in what passed for a smile as he reached back to grab his beer. He tipped it to his lips and drank in steady pulls that made his throat ripple.
Mine went tight as something flashed through me, hot and unexpected. I didn’t recognize the sensation at first, it was so rare.
Actual honest to God lust.
I didn’t speak. What was I supposed to say? Holy fuck, you’re sexy did not seem appropriate. Especially since I wanted a crack at his face with my fists.
My silence didn’t deter him. In fact, he gave me a devastating, full-on grin. “Nice jacket,” he murmured, his gaze taking a lazy trip down my body. “And gloves.”
My cheeks burned. I caught the fingers of the glove in my mouth, yanked, and shoved them in the pocket where I’d found them. But I couldn’t hide the coat.
All of this was so freaking stupid. I could feel my IQ dropping the longer I gaped at him like I’d never seen a man before. Just because this one had mile long legs encased in denim and a big ass belt buckle that sat just above things I’d avoided glancing at thus far didn’t mean I had to lose my cool. He wasn’t anything special. I’d set my sights on him because I believed he was the one to beat, the one who would get me out of New York and into a new life with my sister.
I wasn’t going to change my mind.
Walking around the bar, I tugged the purse I’d worn cross-body over my head and tucked it behind the cash register as I’d done a thousand other times. Fox swiveled around to watch me as if I was a circus monkey doing tricks for his amusement.
And oh, was he amused. Intrigued even. His leisurely smile, the gleam in his unnaturally blue eyes, the way he loosely gripped his beer bottle in fingers that seemed too long and artistic to belong to a fighter—they were all signs that he’d found an object of interest.
Me.
“Came back to work, did you?” he continued as if he didn’t expect an answer. “After that show you put on yesterday, you must have balls of steel.”
A real smile came to my lips while I shrugged out of his jacket. The right thing would be to return his property, but I was enjoying this little game of hunter and prey too much to end it so swiftly.
And I liked the damn coat too much. It kept me warm. I hadn’t been warm for so long.
I tucked the jacket under my arm, almost daring him to protest. He said nothing. Just met me stare for stare.
“You have no idea.” I let the words sink in before I headed back to deal with Carmine.
I felt his gaze following me. Little licks of heat burned straight through my thin T-shirt into my spine. My chest. My heart sped up and my steps faltered. Even my swagger slipped, on the verge of vanishing entirely.
For once, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ignore a man’s interest. Or encourage it.
Seven
After only two conversations, she already had me by the nuts.
Privileged guy after damaged, wrong-side-of-the-tracks chick? It was a joke. A cliché. I’d grown up as a cliché myself—the spoiled little rich boy who wanted to find his own place—so I sure didn’t need to take on another.
Too bad that wasn’t enough of a deterrent.
She had a hungry look to her, as if she hadn’t had a good meal in a while. Like an underfed wolf. And here I was sniffing around like she was fresh meat.
Thirty minutes later, she still hadn’t reemerged from the back room. The spiky-haired bartender who’d wandered off on a break shortly before Mia appeared had returned to polish the bar with the same fervor as the blond bartender from yesterday. With all the polishing going on, I couldn’t imagine how the place still carried a pervasive layer of grime.
“You want another drink?” Spiky asked, her lips sagging with disinterest.
I shouldn’t. I’d already had two while I was waiting. Spiky had told me the blond bartender was due on shif
t soon, and I’d planned to grill her for Mia’s whereabouts. Instead, Mia herself had strolled in, all bundled up in my leather coat with her thick dark bangs barely hiding the puffiness around her black-hole eyes.
They didn’t have any light in them. Any life.
She looked better than yesterday. Still worse for wear, still wary, but if you didn’t look too close in bright light, nearly normal.
Must be makeup. Women were practically magicians with the stuff.
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.” I gestured with the beer. “Is Mia still in back?”
“Yeah. Heard her and Carmine going at it pretty good. He really doesn’t want to give her back her job, but word is she can be awful convincing.” Without warning, she grabbed my beer and make a loud sucking noise over the mouthpiece, sliding her lips up and down in an obvious pantomime of oral sex.
Or severe glass addiction.
Frowning, I yanked back my beer. My perennially sore knuckles protested as I clamped my fingers around the neck of the bottle. I’d seen Carmine yesterday, and he had to be pushing sixty. Would Mia really do that just to hang on to her job?
“Can I go back there?” I had to fight to keep my voice even. “I need to talk to her.”
Spiky waggled her brows. “Ooh, you into those ménage a twats?”
I didn’t mean to laugh. Really, I didn’t. But before I could stop myself, out came a harsh bark that could’ve summoned seals.
Mia appeared in the doorway, sleeves rolled up to reveal surprisingly muscled—and unblemished—arms. The hem of her Vinnie’s shirt flirted with her navel, riding up over her low-waisted pants. The indentations of her hips spoke of serious workouts, the kind not found in a Zumba class. The girl was seriously tiny. Seriously cut.
Seriously fucking hot.
She stopped dead when her gaze met mine. I seemed to inspire that reaction in her every time. I couldn’t decide if I liked it or if it annoyed me.