Because I’m a lucky fuck and shit always seems to go my way, Z and Teller are the two brothers who ride with me to the fight. Rock would normally be here, but he’s somewhere balls deep in his bitch.
Teller’s acting like a nervous mama around me. Considering he’s one-third of the reason I’m here, I find that perversely funny.
The guy I’m fighting came in from the West Coast, where supposedly fighters take shit more seriously? Don’t know; don’t care. What I do know is I have a fuck lot of rage to unleash on someone. Since it can’t be my brother, it’s gonna be Cali.
“Just worry about your end, Mr. Treasurer. Let me handle the gritty stuff.”
He storms off in a toddler-worthy fit.
“What crawled up your ass?” Z asks.
“Gee, I don’t know, maybe him questioning my ability to win a fight about an hour before I have to go in the ring?”
“He didn’t say that.” Z cocks his head and studies me for a minute. “When did you schedule this fight anyway?”
“Last weekend. Why?”
“Just curious. Seemed like it came out of nowhere.”
I hadn’t been given the name Wrath at sixteen because I knew how to hold back, so little welterweight Teller, of all people, questioning me fucking pissed me off. Fighting gave me the outlet to unleash all my boiled-up, held-in, blistering rage. Rage that this time Teller unknowingly has caused.
The only form of fighting I could do was underground, where the rules were bendable. All the people who participated understood the need to keep their mouths shut.
I can’t stop thinking about last weekend, after Trinity and I left Crystal Ball together. Time seemed to reverse, leaving us where we were eight years ago. Fuck, if I’m not dying to recapture that. Recapture her. Let go of the past and do shit right this time.
Once I get this fight out of the way, I plan to concentrate on her. Our two little movie nights hadn’t been enough. I’d only seen her here and there all week. Although, she made a point of stopping to wish me luck before I left tonight. Her honest encouragement and soft smile shredded me inside.
All thoughts left my brain as I stepped into the makeshift ring and focused on my opponent. The rage I kept locked down bubbled through me, further narrowing my focus.
Glaring at the punk-ass bitch who’d flown in from Cali to fight me, I follow him around the ring, assessing his skill. For his heavyweight frame, he moves with grace and speed; I’d give him that. I’m also surprisingly quick for a guy my size. I’ve got strength and power.
And a fuckload of fury.
Tired of fucking around, I move to take his ass down for good.
Kicking out, I land a solid hit on his thigh, then connect my fist with his chin. A fist to the kidney and punch to his temple, and he hits the floor. After a few ticks, the ref blows the whistle and calls the match in my favor.
I shake off the tingling in my hands and limp out of the ring, barely out of breath.
“Waste of a fucking plane ticket,” I growl at the ref, who laughs back.
Z and Teller meet me with grins on their faces.
“Nice job, bro,” Teller says with a slap on my back. I suffer a minor bit of guilt for being so pissy with him before.
Couple people in the back room give me shit about how quick the fight ended. Fuck ‘em.
People bitch about the money they lost because they bet against me. Fuck them too.
I stay in lethal shape. My life and the lives of my brothers depends on it. Not that any of them are pansies. Every one of my brothers could fight. Even dickhead Teller who used his smaller size to his advantage.
I’d trained them all to some degree. It’s in our by-laws that everyone needs to keep in fighting shape. No fat, beer-bellied, sloppy slobs allowed. That was a good way to get yourself killed. I never understood how any true outlaw could let himself get soft. We shunned society’s conventions, so our fists, our strength was sometimes all we had. Something these punks never understand—I would fight to the death to protect what belongs to me.
So some little underground match like this?
Bitch, please.
The clubhouse is in an uproar when Wrath walks in. Arms stretched over his head, cocky grin in place, he asks for a Jack and Coke the minute he sees me.
Raising an eyebrow and cocking my head to the side, I answer, “Only if you won.”
Grinning back at me, he winks. “I always win, babe.”
“Cocky fucker,” I tease, handing him his drink.
He downs it quick. “Fuck, that’s good. Missed ol’ Jack.”
Club girls swarm around him, and I swallow down my jealousy as he turns around to talk them up.
Prez stays long enough to congratulate Wrath, then takes off. To see Hope, I assume, and the thought makes me happy.
After watching him spend time with skank after skank for years, the way he pants after good girl Hope is pretty adorable.
Teller slides up next to me and runs his fingers up my arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Should’a seen him. He made it look like it was nothing.”
I suck in a painful breath. Wrath has never wanted me to come to one of his fights. “I can imagine.”
“Want some help back here?”
Glancing up, I see Wrath and Roxy getting cozy. God, I hate that little bitch. Cookie slides up to him next, and he slips an arm over each of their shoulders.
God-fucking-dammit. After hanging out last weekend, I thought maybe he was willing to let the past go and we might start again. But I see now how fucking stupid that was of me.
His head turns slightly and his eyes narrow. Suddenly, I’m overly aware of how close Teller is standing next to me and what it must look like to Wrath.
I step back to put a little distance between us. But it’s too late. Wrath’s leading the two of them to the couch. I know what’s about to go down, and I just can’t watch it again. He’s still paying me back for every time I fucked one of his brothers.
But I can’t do this anymore.
“Actually, yeah. I’m not feeling too well. I’m going to go to bed.”
Teller cocks his head with concern. “Do you need me to get you something?”
A gun so I can put a bullet in Roxy and Cookie would be nice.
“Nah, I’m just exhausted.”
“Okay.”
Fighting tears, I push my way through the crowd. I’ll still be able to hear the party, but at least in my room, I can be alone. I’ve got some things to work on anyway. If I slip in my headphones while I’m working, I’ll never know what’s going on out there.
I’m in the bathroom washing my face when someone knocks on my door. Ignoring it, I slip on my nightshirt.
Whoever’s out there is a persistent asshole, though, because they knock again.
Opening the door a crack, I find Wrath looming in my doorway. I poke my head out, looking left and right. “Where’s your fan club?”
“You in there alone?”
I close the door and step into the hallway with him. “You know I am.”
He eyes me up and down, and suddenly, I’m self-conscious in my pink nightshirt with the little gray poodles dotted all over it.
“Cute,” he says with a cocky smirk.
“So what did you want?”
His face turns serious. “Teller said you didn’t feel well. Do you need anything?”
I’m not sure what to do with that. “I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
He looks like he has more to say but isn’t sure about it. I wait for a second, but his head drops. “Night, Trin.”
“Night, Wrath.”
I only catch a glimpse of Trinity leaving the bar area. Her head’s down as she pushes her way down the hall. Roxy and Cookie are busy making out in my lap and trying to draw me into their clinch.
I’m not feelin’ it tonight.
Pushing them onto the couch, I rise and stalk over to Teller. “Where’d Trin go?”
With a pinched expression, he jerks his head toward her room. “Said she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to go to bed early.”
I don’t like that answer at all. Girl’s been running herself ragged ‘round here.
Not giving a shit what Teller thinks, I head down the hallway. Faced with Trinity’s closed door, I hesitate. She might already be trying to rest and now here I am buggin’ her.
On the other side of the door, I hear water running, so she’s still up. I knock and get nothing. After the second time, the door opens a crack. When she sees it’s me, she opens the door a little wider and sticks her head out, making a big show of searching up and down the hall.
“Where’s your fan club?” she asks.
She’s got her jealous up. Cute.
Good, ‘cause I got questions of my own. “You in there alone?”
She closes the door behind her, jiggling the knob to make sure it’s unlocked I guess. “You know I am,” she answers softly.
When she steps into the hall, I get a good view of her and I’m overcome with how friggin’ cute she is. Hair’s all messily knotted on top of her head, face scrubbed clean. Christ, if she doesn’t look younger than when we met eight years ago. My gaze stops on what she’s wearing. Pink sleep shirt with little fucking puppies on it. How fucking adorable is she?
I can’t help it. The corner of my mouth curls into a cocky smirk. “Cute.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, and suddenly, it’s obvious to me she’s not wearing a bra.
“So what did you want?” she asks, making me tear my gaze away from her chest.
Reminding me why I’m here.
“Teller said you didn’t feel well. You need anything?”
The astonishment on her face sends shame slithering over my skin. “I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
I want to ask why she left the party early and if it has anything to do with me. I want her to invite me into her goddamn room or come upstairs with me or something.
Finally, I tell her good night.
“Night, Wrath,” she answers back.
But she doesn’t go inside. She’s still standing there watching me. Her hand reaches back and jiggles the knob again.
Her eyes flutter shut for a second, and she whispers, “I just couldn’t do it again.”
Confused, I take a step closer, and her eyes open. Glossy, like she’s about to cry.
“Do what, honey?”
She takes several deep breaths before finally answering me. “Watch you with them again.” She flicks her hand in the direction of the living room. “Any of them.”
My first thought is, Good, now you know how I feel. Thank fuck I don’t blurt that out, because the next thing I think of is what her words mean.
She still cares about me.
I’m too dumbstruck to say anything. I want to tug her in my arms and kiss the fuck outta her.
This is huge.
She still cares about me.
When I still haven’t said anything, she shakes her head and opens the door.
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage to get out.
“Me too.” And she shuts the door behind her.