Chapter Eight
Army noticed the same guy he’d seen for the past two days hanging around in front of the gym when he opened the door and waltzed in. He scanned the place and a twinge of disappointment mixed with anger clenched his muscles when he didn’t see Stiletto. She hadn’t been to Champion in the past three days, and he was pretty sure he was the reason she was avoiding it. The kiss they’d share was so fucking awesome that the memory of it was still burned in his cock. All the moaning and pressing her body against his showed that she was fucking blown away by it too.
The only thing that surprised the hell out of Army was that she hadn’t had sex with him yet. Unable to seduce a woman into his bed was unheard of for him. The longest it’d ever taken him was twenty-four hours and then the chick had come to him, but that wasn’t happening with the sexy vixen. He just couldn’t figure it out, but it was driving him wild.
Most of the day and night was spent with Mia in his mind. It was making him damn insane, but the crazier part was that he only wanted her. Going out and finding pussy was an option, but it wouldn’t be Stiletto, and that’s who he wanted and couldn’t have. Why the hell he didn’t just move on, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was that he was used to winning, or maybe it was because her eyes were the most unusual color he’d ever seen and her body was athletic but soft under his touch.
Army walked toward the ring where Taylor was sparring with another fighter. It’s more than the way she looks. I love the way she sasses me and how confident she is. And damn … the way she fights just gets me going. There was a lot he liked about her so far, and he wanted to get to know her better, but she wasn’t letting him. Fuck!
By the time he reached the ring, he was all riled up and he picked up a pair of boxing gloves hanging on the hook. He slipped off his cut, and a guy built like a brick house came over to him.
“You’re Mayhem’s brother, right?” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Go get a locker and put your cut in it. Goliath requires gym shorts, not jeans, in the ring.”
“I got them.”
“I’m El Toro.” He held out a meaty hand.
Army took it. “Army. Thanks, man.” He went to the lockers and carefully hung up his cut then kicked off his boots and socks before taking off his jeans. He pulled his T-shirt over his head then closed the metal door and walked over to the ring.
Taylor took out his mouthpiece and grinned. “You want to go a few rounds?” The dude sparring with him jumped down from the platform and went to the punching bags.
“I gotta warn you that I’m pissed as shit and got a lot of pent-up frustration,” Army said as he went under the ropes.
Taylor jogged in place. “Bring it on.”
El Toro whistled and threw a headgear and mouthpiece, and Army lifted his chin to him.
Twenty minutes into practicing their boxing moves, sweat poured down both of their backs as they jabbed, ducked, and punched each other over and over. The sparring helped to get rid of his anger, and he was giving Taylor a good workout.
“Mia!” a woman shouted.
Army glanced over and saw Stiletto walking toward a muscular blonde standing on one of the mats. His breathing quickened, and when she glanced over at the ring with those eyes that looked like gold in starlight, the world froze around him. Bam! Right to the side of the head. Army staggered backward, then lost his footing and fell to the floor.
“Shit, dude, I thought you’d fend off the punch. Are you okay?” Taylor said as he bent over, his pale blue eyes dark with concern.
For a few seconds everything blurred, then Army heard Goliath’s gruff voice. “Get Randy.”
Taylor unlaced Army’s gloves and took them off to help him sit up. “Bring some water,” he said.
Army spit out his mouthpiece. “Who the fuck’s Randy?”
“He’s a doctor who trains at the gym.”
“I’m fine. I was just distracted.” He pushed up and took the glass of water Raptor handed him and drank it down.
“Who’d you want me to check out?” a tall dude with short brown hair asked.
“You the doc?” Army removed the headgear. “I’m good.”
“Let me make sure, okay?” Randy walked into the ring.
“What’s going on, Taylor?” Worry laced Stiletto’s voice.
“I said I’m good, doc. Back the fuck off,” Army said.
Randy lifted his hands up and moved away as Army and Taylor stepped off the platform.
“Army? Are you hurt?” Stiletto said, walking toward him.
In multi-colored yoga pants hugging against her skin, Army bet she turned a few heads when she came in. She did his, and that was the reason he got clobbered.
Deciding to play on her sympathies, he smiled weakly. “I’m just a little dizzy. I need to sit down.”
“You just told Randy you were fine,” Taylor said. “I better get him. You may have a concussion.”
“Leave it the fuck alone,” he gritted, and then he saw understanding flicker in Stiletto’s eyes.
She shook her head. “Seriously? That’s just sleazy.” She whirled around and marched away, her cute rounded ass bouncing in pants that left little to the imagination. “Greatest thing ever invented,” Army said.
“What is?” Taylor asked.
Army cocked his head to one side, his eyes still fixed on Stiletto’s delicious curviness. “Yoga pants. It’s like we almost get to see it all, but then we don’t. They’re the ultimate temptation.”
Taylor folded his arms over his chest. “You’re right about that, and Mia fills them out real good … so does Kat.”
Army didn’t give a shit about the blonde, his gaze was on the vixen who was playing with his emotions. As if she sensed being watched, she turned around and met his gaze. “She’s a real cutie,” he muttered.
“Stay away from her,” Taylor said.
“We’re both adults. If Stiletto wants to play, it’s not any of your fuckin’ business.”
“She’s my friend. Anyway, she thinks you’re a jerk. She told me.”
“So, she’s talking about me.” Army winked at her, and she turned around, her high ponytail swinging across her shoulders.
“Didn’t you hear what I said? Mia’s not into you. She thinks you’re an asshole. Leave her alone. She’s still getting over a breakup.”
“First—I am an asshole and women still clamor for me. Second—who was her ex? Was he a fighter?”
“No. He seemed like a really good guy, but he kept pushing her to get married. She wasn’t ready.”
Runs from marriage. Just my type of woman. “How long did they go out?”
“About five or six months, I think. She met him pretty soon after she moved here. He’d always send her huge bouquets of flowers at the gym. I think it was his way of telling us guys she was taken.”
“I don’t see her as a flowers kind of woman.”
Taylor shrugged. “She likes them, and some guys love giving them, but her ex overdid it.” He chuckled. “I bet you never gave a woman flowers in your life besides the corsages Dad bought for your dates when you went to the school formals.”
“Yeah, it’s not my style.”
“You have a style? I thought it was—meet a pretty woman, charm her, bed her—rinse and repeat.” Taylor laughed.
“You know me too well.” He clasped his brother’s shoulder. “I’m gonna walk around and see what everyone’s doing.”
“You mean Mia.”
“You said it.”
“Mayhem! Are you here to train or to chat?” Raptor yelled. “Get your ass over here.”
“Don’t piss anyone off,” Taylor said.
“Pissing people off is what I do, bro.” Army laughed when Taylor threw him a dirty look over his shoulder as he jogged over to Raptor.
Army scanned the room: vinyl-padded walls in burnt orange, royal-blue, seamless foam floors, designated training areas, and a fully equipped gym made up the large room. Toward the back of it, there was a dedicated warm-up area replete with jump ropes, resistant bands, and colorful mats.
Then he saw a ponytail swishing back and forth, toned legs, a delectable ass, and the image of a dragon tatted on a sculpted back, and he quirked his lips as he headed to the yellow mat. Seeing a folding chair off to the side, Army went over and grabbed it, then sat down and focused his attention on Stiletto as she stretched her limber body. She wore a purple sports bra that showed off her flat stomach while the head of the dragon curving along her left side stared menacingly at him.
Ignoring him, she tossed her hair and spun around. On the mat next to her, a well-built man stretched his limbs while a group of men and a few women warmed up in a series of exercises led by a short woman with arms that would put most men to shame.
Stiletto lifted her arms above her head and reached up high. The move made her tits stand out, and Army leaned back in the chair to enjoy the view. After several basic stretches, she threw him an annoyed look.
“Don’t you have something better to do than watch me warm up?”
“Nope. This is the best thing going. I like watching chicks.”
An exasperated groan flew from her lips as she dropped her hands to her hips. “Stop assuming everything women do in life stems from an effort to make you find them sexually attractive.”
“Well … you told me.” The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk.
She scrunched her face then spun around and resumed stretching. With each squat, his pants grew tighter as he pictured her on all fours, her round ass wiggling and two of his fingers pushing into her slick pussy. He shifted in the seat and glanced down at his ringing phone. When he looked back up, he caught her eyeing his hard-on and he winked. A pinkish-red flush colored her cheeks and she turned away, and he chuckled as he answered the burner phone.
“Whatcha got?” He watched Mia bend her left knee then grab the right foot and slowly straighten out her leg until it was perpendicular to her upper body, and held the position. “Hang on,” he mumbled to Lil’ Donnie as he watched transfixed. She’s so fuckin’ flexible. We could have a lot of fun. Army’s bulge grew uncomfortable, so he readjusted his shorts and then walked quickly out the back door.
The cool night had replaced the warm day, and the distinctive smell of wood burning, damp leaves, and sweet, newly mown hay wafted around Army.
“I’m back,” he said into the phone.
“The deal’s going down, the middle of next month,” the snitch said.
Army detected a tiny shake to his voice. “You good?” He knew Lil’ Donnie didn’t use what he sold, so he wondered if the drug dealer was double-dipping between the Night Rebels and the 39th Street Gang.
“Sure. Yeah, I’m good. I just don’t want ’em knowing where the info came from, you know?” He sneezed then coughed. “I got this fuckin’ cold. Youse guys gonna protect me if shit hits the fan?”
“We got your back if you don’t fuck up.”
“I’ve been working for youse for a long time. I’m no double-crosser.” Two more sneezes.
“No one ever is until they are. So, you got the date and place yet?”
“Not the exact date, but the place will probably be the warehouse over on Trailside Road. Blueman does the bigger deals over there. I gotta go. You wanna meet at the same place for my payment?”
“No, I’ll find you,” Army said.
“What the fuck does that mean? You owe me!”
“Why’re you so on edge? Night Rebels don’t go back on their word. I’ll find you … that’s all you need to know.” Army hung up then tapped in Steel’s number.
“You got something?” Steel asked.
“Lil’ Donnie said the buy’s going down the middle of next month at a warehouse. He doesn’t know the exact date or time yet. He seemed nervous.”
“He’s never backstabbed us before,” Steel replied.
Army rubbed his hand over the side of his face. “I know. Maybe he’s just scared. I’m giving him some money tomorrow.”
“Watch your back. Are you flying your colors?”
“Sometimes, but not when I meet up with him.”
“It’s not a good idea. You want to keep a low profile. Never know if the fucking Pistons are around, and you don’t have any backup,” Steel said.
“Yeah.” Army squeezed his eyebrows together.
For outlaws, the three-piece patches they wore on the back of their cuts were their identity. They marked the bikers’ membership to their club and the territory they claimed. Flying their colors was mandatory on bike runs, rallies, and at the clubhouse, but most of the time, all of the Night Rebels wore their cuts outside the club. Army was no exception, and not wearing his cut seemed off kilter to him. He’d been donning it for the past seven years, but the last thing he wanted was to jeopardize the club’s plan to shut down the damn Pistons and the 39th Street jerks.
“See you,” Steel said. “Tell your brother to kick ass at his next fight.”
“I will. He’s got a couple in the next few weeks, and if he wins them, he’ll go pro. I’m fuckin’ proud of him,” Army said.
“Yeah. He’s come a long way from when you used to protect him from bullies.”
Army slid the phone in his pocket and went back inside. Stiletto had finished her stretching and was beating the shit out of a speed bag when he entered the main room. Taylor called out his name, gesturing him to come over.
“What’s up?” Army asked as his gaze drifted over to Stiletto.
“I usually go to Berriegood on Mondays. Do you want to come along?”
“Is Stiletto going?” Army blurted, cursing himself for it.
“I don’t know. I told you to leave Mia alone, dude. If you don’t want to go, I can grab a Lyft or someone can drop me off.”
If Stiletto doesn’t go, then I’m stuck drinking protein out of a fuckin’ glass. But if she does, it could be fun. “I’ll go along. What time are we heading out?”
“In a half hour.”
“Sounds good. I think I’ll kill the time punching the bag.” Army strode over to one of the large speed bags, slipped on a pair of yellow gloves hanging on a hook against the wall, and sank his fists into it.
An hour later, Army followed Taylor into Berriegood and chuckled when Stiletto rushed ahead and took the seat between Raptor and El Toro. He pulled out the chair and sat next to Kat, who turned and threw him a small, seductive smile. Glancing sideways at Stiletto, he saw her sour face as Kat placed her hand lightly on his and asked why he never considered being an MMA fighter.
About twenty minutes into their protein bowl fest, El Toro stood up and told them his wife wanted him home to help out with their three rowdy boys. The minute he walked away, Army went over and slid into the seat next to Stiletto. Taylor’s facial muscles were taut as he handed Army’s smoothie to him. Instead of going for the protein bowl that all the fighters raved about, he went for the basic mango and coconut smoothie, deciding to do a drive-through at one of the fast food burger places on the way back to the apartment.
As he waited for Stiletto to turn toward him, he swirled the straw around in his glass, then pretended that he didn’t see Kat trying to get his attention. Bolting from the chair to get a chance to sit next to Stiletto was out of character for him. Chicks came to him, but she was proving to be inordinately stubborn.
After ten minutes of stirring the damn smoothie, he nudged her slightly with his elbow and smiled when she faced him.
“Hey.” He gave her his crooked smile, the one that landed him into countless beds.
“Hey,” she replied, turning back toward Raptor and Madman. Most of the male fighters preferred to use their nicknames with the other gym members.
“I’m trying to talk to you,” Army said, an edge creeping into his voice.
“And I’m involved in another conversation. I’m not going to just stop midway through like you did with Kat. I’m not rude.”
His eyes narrowed and he leaned back in the chair. Why the fuck am I putting up with this shit? Because I’m drawn to her for some damn reason. For a long while Army sat there and sipped his overly sweet mango drink while ignoring her sensual scent as it curled around him. It reminded him of screwing around on an exotic beach under a large umbrella as the waves from the pristine blue ocean crashed on the shore.
“Are you having a good time?” she asked, turning toward him.
“I’ve had better.”
“I guess drinking smoothies or eating healthy bowls isn’t your thing.” Her sweet giggles went right to his dick and he shifted in the seat.
“I’m more of a steak-and-rib-kind-of-guy, and I like my vegetables whole, not pureed.”
“It’s not too bad. I come mostly for the camaraderie. I’ll admit I had to acquire a taste for the protein bowl, but I love the mango smoothie you’re drinking.”
“It’s not bad. So, how about getting a drink after we finish playing healthy?”
“I’m too tired. I’m going straight home.”
“We’re taking off,” Kat and Raptor said. Several other people from the group also rose to their feet.
“See you,” Stiletto said and waved to them.
Kat came over and squeezed Army’s shoulder. “It was nice talking to you.”
“I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No worries.” She glanced at Stiletto, then back at Army. “I understand. If you ever need someone to hang out with, Taylor has my number.” She turned around and followed Raptor out the door.
“I bet women are always giving you their phone numbers. Kat is really nice.” Stiletto picked up her spoon and kept scraping her empty bowl.
“I’m not interested in her. I’m interested in you, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same about me. Why are you fighting me on this?”
She tilted her head back. “On what?”
“On just going out for a fuckin’ drink or something without a gang of people tagging along.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah. If something goes from there, then it does. What about tomorrow night? We can go for dinner or a drink. Somewhere we can talk.” Army watched as hesitation played on her face. “You’re prejudging me.”
“I’m not. It’s just that you’re used to women who fall right into bed with you, but I’m not like that, and I’m not up for a night of wrestling. I can do it at Champion.”
“How do you know what I’m used to?”
“I know your type.”
Army snorted out a loud laugh. “And that’s not prejudging me? I’m not a fuckin’ type. I’m one of a kind, and women find that damn refreshing.” He pushed back in the chair. “I never push a chick to do something she doesn’t want to.”
Stiletto picked up the napkin and crumpled it over and over in her hands. “I also don’t want the whole focus to be on me being a woman.”
Army jerked his head back. “But you are one.”
“I know that. I mean it doesn’t have to be the focal point in all of our interactions.”
“Don’t try and con me. I noticed you checking me out at the gym.”
She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “That’s different. I appreciate a man who takes care of himself.”
“And I appreciate a toned, hot woman. There’s no fuckin’ difference.”
“There is because I wasn’t leering.”
“BS, sweetheart. You were leering plenty.” Army watched her as she smoothed out the napkin. “If you don’t trust yourself alone with me, I get it.”
Her head snapped up and her eyes flashed. “You’re so damn vain.”
“Just calling it the way I see it.” He rose to his feet and looked over at Taylor, who was deep in conversation with Goliath.
Stiletto leapt up then slung her tote bag over her shoulder. “I’m out of here.” She said her goodbyes to the others and headed for the door.
Army rushed after her. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
She stopped so abruptly that he almost ran into her. “I don’t need you to do that.”
“I’m walking you to your car, and it’s not open for debate. You’re the most stubborn woman I know.” Army trudged behind her.
“You don’t know me,” she said as her heels clacked on the sidewalk.
“I’m trying to, but you’re making it damn hard.”
When they arrived at her car, he took the keys from her and opened the door. Her sweet scent played havoc with his desire, and he tried to stop thinking of how wonderful she smelled and how great she looked walking to the car in her yoga pants. He pretty much figured that having an erection while trying to get her to go out on a date with him wouldn’t really work. He glanced up at the stars and silently began counting them.
“Thanks,” she said taking the keys from him, her soft touch distracting him. “I guess I’ll see you at the gym?”
“So, it’s a no for tomorrow night?” The brothers would be having a field day if they could see me practically begging for a date.
“Will you promise to behave and treat me like a buddy?”
“If I don’t behave, you can smack me, but there’s no way I can treat you like a buddy.”
“I’m sure you’d love it if I decked you. I just want you to promise you won’t undress me all night and talk about how flexible I am or how pretty, and all that other shit that makes me feel like I’m just an object for your visual pleasure.”
Army dragged his foot back and forth over the asphalt, gravel crunching under his boot. “I’m a man. We’re visual. I’m not gonna promise I won’t enjoy your beauty, but we’re going out to get to know each other.”
Stiletto slid onto the seat, threw her purse on the passenger floor, and gripped the steering wheel. After a couple of minutes of silence, she looked up at him and audibly sighed. “Okay. We can meet up tomorrow night for dinner.”
Army wanted to high five her, but he simply jutted his chin out and nodded. “You like Mexican food?”
“Yes. There are some good ones downtown. Did you want me to choose?”
“I can handle it. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I’ll meet you.” She turned on the ignition.
“I don’t meet dates—I pick them up. Seven o’clock.” As she opened her mouth, he shut the door then stepped back and motioned for her to back out. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he watched as the red tail lights disappeared into the night, then went back into the restaurant.