CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
AFTER GETTING ALL the deets from Cannon and seeing that Leese was settling in—and that he understood the rules—Armie decided it was time to go after Rissy. For sure she’d been peeved when she’d all but run away from him. Not that he blamed her. Lately it seemed he had so much coming down on his head that he kept a perpetual frown.
He never minded shouldering responsibility, for himself and for others. His shoulders were broad enough to carry plenty. But damn, he was starting to feel weighted down, and a lot of that had to do with worry for Rissy.
After all but begging him to stay, she’d run off and avoided him for the forty minutes he’d been at her house. It wasn’t a problem; he’d put the time to good use and he was, if nothing else, at least in a better frame of mind now.
Cannon had promised to put word out about Bray. He had incredible contacts in the community, so hopefully someone would find the kid before he got into any trouble. Fifteen was too old to have to put up with seeing some abusive ass knock his mom around, and yet it was far too damn young for him to be out on his own. For a hundred different reasons, Armie felt responsible. He checked his phone again, but Bray hadn’t called.
Cannon had also laid out major consequences to his dad—or so he’d said. Somehow Armie had his doubts that it mattered. He knew his old man, knew that when cornered Mac Jacobson reacted like a rabid dog.
He went for the jugular.
Right now his dad might’ve acted compliant, but it wouldn’t last, so on top of worrying for Bray, he now had to wait to see what his seed-donor might do. That rankled big-time, almost cranking his frustration back to the combustible level.
Then he thought about seeing Rissy, maybe talking her into some good old-fashioned physical relief, and his thoughts veered wildly from emotional frustration to sexual awareness.
With his ear to the door, Armie listened to Rissy’s bedroom and heard nothing. He started to knock, changed his mind and quietly turned the knob.
When he was younger, and she’d been too young, he’d had more than one fantasy about visiting her in her ultrafeminine room. About seeing her on her frothy comforter naked. About joining her there. About the things she might do in there all alone during the years she’d been so obviously infatuated with him.
He’d have given a lot to watch her touch herself, to see her get off all hot and sweet while thinking about him.
Predictably, he was already hard as he stepped into the heavy shadows in her room. She’d drawn the drapes but he still saw her on the bed—sound asleep. His heart turned over, expanded, went soft and full. It was an odd combo to feel so tender while sporting a hard-on.
The full-size bed hadn’t changed. She’d gotten the updated furniture when she was seventeen. Armie remembered helping Cannon to carry everything into the house. Back then, she’d had much girlier curtains and the fluffy bedding he remembered so well.
Now everything was classy, but still comfortable and homey—like her. She’d long ago outgrown posters on the walls and stuffed animals on her bed.
Somehow she’d never outgrown her infatuation with him.
He’d thought she would. He’d figured on her moving on, settling down with some nice guy and maybe having a kid or two. Rissy had a very big heart and mothering tendencies that everyone enjoyed. By far, she was the most domestic woman he knew. If you showed up at her place, odds were she’d want to feed you.
Unless, like now, you’d managed to piss her off.
Knowing neither Cannon nor Leese would intrude, Armie slowly stretched out behind her. With one arm around her waist, he drew her against him.
Part of a fantasy, come to life.
Now if only they were naked...
Sounding sleepy, she whispered, “I used to fantasize about this.”
Huh. So he hadn’t been the only one who’d thought of hanky-panky in this particular room? Fascinated, Armie nuzzled against her hair and said, “Wanna share?”
She twisted to face him. Even in the dim light he could see the softness in her blue eyes and the serious way she studied him. Her fingertips traced his mouth. “I didn’t think I’d ever have the incredible Armie Jacobson in my bed.”
He tucked her closer, but didn’t kiss her. Not this time. It’d be in very poor taste to get carried away with her now, with her brother and Leese only a floor away. But God, she tempted him. Always did.
Always would.
He turned his head just enough that her palm settled against his jaw. “I’m sorry I was surly earlier.”
“You’re forgiven.” She took her hand to his neck, over his shoulder, around to his chest and down, until she could slip it up under his shirt. “But only because I know so much is going on, and you have an upcoming fight.”
Grateful and turned on, Armie grinned. “You don’t have to protect me, Stretch. You know that, right? I can take your ire whenever you need to dish it out.”
“And I would have—if you hadn’t apologized.”
“Mmm. One of these days, I might enjoy seeing that.” He scooted closer until her breasts pressed to his chest. “But I am sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you just because I had a shitty day.”
“When we get home,” she whispered, her fingertips seeming to count his ab muscles, “you can show me how truly sorry you are.”
Again it struck him that they needed to talk about the situation. Her calling his apartment “home” made little to no sense. But with everything up in the air, the timing didn’t seem right to go into it.
Would the timing ever be right? He just didn’t know.
“Hey.” She pushed him to his back and crawled half up over his chest. “Why are you not answering?”
“I was just thinking.”
Her eyes narrowed. “About what?”
“Ways to show my sincerity,” he lied. Without thinking it through, his hands went down her back to her tight little ass and, with raging need, he drew her down while lifting against her.
Clearly, she didn’t miss his erection. Voice faint, breath hitching, she whispered, “Armie.”
So sweet. Before she could kiss him, he asked, “You ready to go, honey?”
Groaning, she went flat against him, her head to his shoulder, her breath hot against his neck. Then she said, “Yes,” and rolled off the bed to flip on a light. Arms out straight, she held her fingers in a way to frame Armie in a virtual box. With one eye closed, she murmured, “Just let me take a mental picture first.”
Armie laughed. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you,” she teased right back.
And damn if that didn’t almost stop his heart. The words hit him, melded into him, filled him up. He stared at her, but she went about her business getting ready to leave as if she hadn’t said something so profound.
Was she crazy about him?
As in still infatuated? Because that wasn’t anything new. Or did she mean crazy as in more? Since they’d hooked up and become an item, she hadn’t mentioned her feelings much. In a dozen different ways she showed she cared, but she hadn’t said it.
Did he want her to?
As if she felt him watching, she glanced at him. “What?”
Catching himself, Armie rolled from the bed. “Nothing.”
At least nothing he could admit to because he knew the truth; if he couldn’t resolve the threats soon, he might have to put some time and space between them. Someone was gunning for him and the only way to ensure she stayed out of the line of fire was to stay away from her.
But thinking that only made him need her more, so after they each said quick goodbyes to her brother and Leese, he hustled her out the door and to her car.
“In a hurry?” she asked.
“Yeah. See, I figured we’d get to chapter two of your book.”
Her eyes rounded and her face flushed.
That wasn’t embarrassment coloring her cheeks. Armie smiled at her.
After clearing her throat, she asked, “Chapter two?”
“Come on.” This was a conversation better made in private. After he got her in her car behind the wheel, he leaned in and fastened her seat belt. “That’s the chapter where you offer yourself, quietly, staying still, so I can do anything—and everything—I want with your body.”
“Oh.”
“I’m thinking I’d like to start with you on your stomach.”
More breathless, she asked, “My stomach?”
“I like that idea.” Trailing a hand down to her hip, he murmured near her ear, “I could spend an hour on your ass.” She sucked in a breath and held still. “Then an hour on your tits.”
“Armie...” she whispered, sounding agonized.
“Then an hour—” He cupped his hand between her thighs and whispered, “—right here.”
Her eyes sank shut.
Knowing he played with fire, Armie stepped back. “I’ll be right behind you. Drive safely.” She said nothing more as he closed the door and walked to his truck.
Keeping his mind focused only on Rissy, which allowed him to block out everything else, he followed her to his apartment.
Déjà vu, he thought, watching as she parked in a rush and raced for his apartment.
He’d had a lot of women. Too many, truth be told. He’d done extreme things, some that he enjoyed, and some just for the experience of it.
Now, here with Rissy, it all faded away as unimportant. Nothing and no one could compare to her, especially when she wanted him, too.
With his problems temporarily on hold, Armie jogged after her. They went straight to bed, stripping off clothes along the way.
He wouldn’t—couldn’t—say the words, but in the ways he touched her he tried to show her how he cared, how he needed her.
How she meant the world to him.
While it lasted, he wanted to take all that he could, then give back more—even while knowing it’d never be enough.
* * *
AFTER CALLING MERISSA TWICE, and both times being roundly rejected, Steve wasn’t feeling very generous. As he walked, he worked his jaw, furious and fed up. Done playing her fucking games.
That’s why he set up another meeting with Keno and Boyd.
He checked the time on his cell and quickened his step.
To keep things secretive, they agreed to meet on the street near the park. The lights at night were low, the place abandoned. He rounded the corner and immediately spotted two large bodies near a bench. Just enough light touched on them for him to recognize Boyd sitting and Keno standing off to the side.
He slid his cell back into his pocket and approached them with a casual greeting. “Thanks for coming out.”
“No problem,” Boyd said, looking a little drunk and a lot lazy as he sprawled on the bench. “What’s up now?”
Steve looked around, saw no one, but still kept his voice low. “I need to make another run at her.”
“Her,” Boyd said, “meaning the banker lady?”
“Yes.” Who the fuck else would he mean?
“Why?” Sitting forward, elbows on his knees, Boyd said, “I thought your PI buddy was your go-to here on out.”
He should have been, but... “That’s not working out how I planned.”
“Why not?”
What was this? Fifty questions? He started to snap at Boyd, but Keno stood there looking suitably intimidating, so Steve sucked up his ire. “Armie Jacobson, the son of a bitch, is a damned rapist.” When the two men looked surprised, Steve nodded. “You believe that shit? I figured once Merissa found out, she’d run from him as fast as she could. Not that she’s a hard-core women’s libber or anything, but she’s damned independent and expects—”
“How do you know that?” Keno asked. “It’s a hell of an accusation, and if it’s true, why isn’t he rotting in prison?”
“He wormed out of it somehow. I don’t know the details. But I paid his old man to go tell Merissa. Only she’s still with him so I think the miserable old bum failed.”
“Or maybe she’s into that scene,” Boyd offered.
Steve huffed. “No, believe me, she’s not. Hell, she borders on being a damned prude.” He’d wanted to try different things, and she’d always refused. But Jacobson—that bastard had a rep that’d put a gigolo to shame. “Somehow he must’ve convinced her otherwise.” The note he’d left with Jacobson’s opponent might still sink the prick if the other guy took advantage of the info Steve had shared, but it probably wouldn’t do anything to deter Merissa. “I need to know she’s heard the truth. I have to drive it home to her.”
Somewhere off in the darkness, a bush rustled. They all three turned to look but the inky night swallowed up everything. Six feet beyond them, even their shadows faded into the blackness. When they heard nothing else, they each dismissed it.
“You were saying?” Keno prompted.
Steve looked at both men. “You up for another job?”
Arms folded over his chest, his eyes flinty, Keno stared him down.
They were alone in a dark, abandoned park and Steve didn’t like the open intimidation. He hardened his jaw and stared back. “What?”
“There’s something I want to know.” Lip lifted a little, Keno asked, “Why the lady? That particular lady? I get the bank robbery. There was cash to be made. But now? Hassling her for shits and giggles? What’s up with that?”
“She’s due a lesson—that’s all you need to know.”
“But you don’t want her hurt.”
Steve shoved away from the bench. “Because I’ll be the one to hurt her.”
At that, Boyd looked up. “You plan to beat her?”
“What?” God, they were awful men. Through his teeth, Steve said, “I don’t beat women.”
Keno looked at Boyd and together they laughed.
Affronted, Steve growled, “I’m going to hurt her in other ways.”
Tipping his head, Boyd asked, “Planning a little rape of your own?”
For the love of... Two calming breaths helped to moderate his tone. “We were together until she broke things off. I’d planned to marry that bitch eventually.”
Laughing again, the sound sharp, Keno sneered, “So she broke your heart?”
Steve wanted to say, Don’t be an idiot. But any insult that bold would in fact make him the moron, so instead he took the time to explain. “I never loved her. Not even close. But that doesn’t mean she gets to dump me.”
Boyd looked at Keno. “Ah, she dented his pride.”
They enjoyed insulting him. Steve knew that. Maybe they didn’t realize it was true.
Yes, his ego had taken a hit when Merissa Colter walked away. But now was his chance to even the score. Once she let him back into her life, he’d make it hell—and then he’d be the one walking away. “Are you in or not?”
“Sure.” Keno scratched at the whiskers on his chin. “We’ve got nothing better to be doing.”
“Great.” Steve felt his plans falling into place. “As I explained, we need to up the ante.”
Keno shrugged. “You pay, we play.”
“It’s a two-step plan, and for the first step, she might recognize one of you. A woman would be a better setup.”
“I know a woman,” Boyd said. “She’s good. Just tell us what you’re thinking.”
“Once we agree on the pay,” Keno added, his gaze frosty, “we’ll get it done. Once and for all.”
* * *
FRUSTRATION BECAME HIS new best friend. All week, Armie had fought it—and lost.
And no wonder. He’d wanted to set his dad straight, to make sure he understood that when it came to Merissa, he wouldn’t play. She was off-limits, period. But Mac had gone missing and Armie couldn’t find him. He’d looked in all the usual places, including every nasty dive, and so far, nothing.
Worse than that, though, Bray was still gone. How the hell did a kid just disappear? It killed him, wondering if Bray had gotten hurt, taken... How did caring parents keep sane when their kids were out and about in the world?
With that thought, Armie glanced at Cannon. Soon he’d be a dad, a far better dad than Mac, and his son or daughter would be loved unconditionally in ways Bray had never been.
In ways Armie had never known, either.
“Concentrate,” Simon said, always more than ready to keep Armie on task despite anything else going on. “We’re working on timing more than speed.”
Justice groaned and lifted a pad as Armie threw a perfectly timed series followed by a kick. Not hard. They weren’t working on hard and if he got too intense, Justice would bail on him.
Even though Justice was far bigger, Armie liked working out with him. The ape amused him. And he had good instincts. Leese was good, too. But talk about intense. Sometimes it seemed Leese took himself far too seriously.
And truth? It rankled that Leese had that special relationship with Rissy. When things fell apart as they always did, would Rissy go to him?
“Get your head out of your ass,” Simon barked.
Armie narrowed his focus and threw combo after combo.
Justice jokingly complained, but he handled it all.
They heard Cannon call out that he was leaving. Denver was right behind him.
More reasons he preferred Justice—he wasn’t as busy as Cannon, Denver and Stack, and didn’t know him as well as Miles and Brand.
“Better,” Simon said.
Better his ass. He was dead-on and Simon knew it.
“Take a break. Rehydrate.” Simon walked off to talk to Cannon before he left.
“Crisp,” Justice said as he, too, grabbed a water jug.
“What’s that?”
“The way you snap off those punches. Crisp.”
Armie stretched. “A sloppy punch doesn’t get you anywhere.”
“You throw those bitches like bullets.” Justice mimicked him, fast and straight. “Pow. Chaos is out.”
“He might surprise you.” But Armie hoped not. The upcoming fight—well, it was starting to matter. And that sucked. All along, he’d assumed he would win. He knew he’d do his best.
But now it actually mattered. Now he wanted to win, and that was different. Havoc and Simon had worn him down with their freaking confidence and enthusiasm and it made him nuts.
Simon returned and they worked for another twenty minutes or so when a hush fell over the gym. Armie looked up to see a blonde waving at Simon. She wasn’t a frail woman, but Lord have mercy, she was put together nice. Dressed in worn jeans, scuffed boots and a pullover sweater, her features all bold, her manner more so—
Simon thwacked him in the back of the head.
Wincing, Armie asked, “Your wife?”
“Yeah, so put your eyeballs away.”
Armie tried, but it wasn’t easy. He’d heard Simon’s lady was something to see and now he knew it was true. She wasn’t feminine like Vanity, or overly stacked like Cherry. But she had so much energy about her, everyone in the room noticed.
Simon called out to her, saying, “Dakota, come here and let me introduce you.”
She strode in but when she reached the mats, it wasn’t Simon she spoke to, but Armie.
“You’re Armie Jacobson.”
“Guilty.”
“Yeah, I just bet you are.” She grinned and held out a hand.
Since he wore fingerless gloves, he enfolded her hand in both of his. “And you’re Dakota Evans.”
“Love the Evans part.” Tipping her head, she gestured at the mats and asked, “Do you mind?”
Confused, Armie looked to Simon.
Simon sighed, ran a hand over his shaved head, then indicated she should go ahead. At the same time he said to Armie, “She does as she pleases. Just go with it and you might learn something.”
Dakota laughed as she peeled off the lace-up boots, then jumped to the mat in front of Armie. “My hunky husband has been fine-tuning you, I know. But here’s the thing. Chaos isn’t a fine-tuned type of fighter.”
“Thus,” Armie said, “the name Chaos.”
“Right. But I’ve been watching you. You’re chaotic, too, only in a more organized way. You’re...” She turned to Simon. “What’s a good word for it?”
“Slick.”
“Yes! You’re very slick in how you transition from one thing to the next. And that’s what Chaos is counting on—you transitioning. Ready?”
Armie started to say, “For what?” but Dakota kicked out and, automatically, he blocked it. Then had to block another and another.
Simon groaned. “Just do it already.”
Crazy. But whatever. Armie dived in and took her down. Carefully.
She moved, and he countered. She moved, and he countered again.
Armie half laughed. Talk about slick!
’Course, he wasn’t giving it his all. For one thing, she was in street clothes, and for another, she was a woman.
Most of all, she was Simon’s wife.
Wrapping her up in a rear naked choke—without applying much pressure at all—Armie looked to Simon.
“Your point, Dakota?” Simon asked.
She went limp, laughed and peeled herself away from Armie’s loosened arms. “We can transition all day. All day, Armie. So instead, when you get him in a position you like, linger. Just a little. It’ll totally throw off his game.”
Armie was thinking about that as he got to his feet, and damn if she didn’t attack again. Crazy lady.
He liked her.
This time, taking her advice, he shot in, pinned her down and held her there. “From here,” he said, “I’d start throwing some elbows to soften you up, then go for a submission.”
“Perfect,” she crowed, as if he’d just passed a test of sorts.
Armie disengaged, stood and offered her a hand. “It’s a good strategy, Dakota. Thanks.”
It was then that they realized Justice just stood there, shocked. Dakota saw him, grinned and headed his way. Justice backed up, but Armie already knew it wouldn’t do him any good.
“Every day,” Simon lamented. “I deal with that every day.”
“Lucky you,” Armie told him with a slap to his back.
Simon shook his head, then grinned. “Yeah.” He turned to help Armie remove his gloves. “She could compete, but she’s not interested. She’s more into her music and her work with abused women.”
Armie knew Dakota performed in a band. Someday he wouldn’t mind watching.
“Take tomorrow off,” Simon told him. “I mean it. A full day of rest.”
“Got it.” Armie knew he’d still jog. Had to or he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. But now that he had Rissy around in more interesting ways, a day off sounded like a great idea.
He was more than happy to make the most of every available second with her.
When he got to the locker room, he showered, dressed and checked his phone. On the screen was a message. Rissy was here.
Smiling, he called her back. It took four rings before she answered.
“Armie, hi!”
“You sound busy, babe. Everything okay?” After the robbery, he’d stopped thinking of her work environment as safe.
“Crazy busy, but yes, I’m fine. Just running late and I wanted you to know.”
Checking in with him like they were a regular couple. Armie liked that a little too much. “Thanks. I was just on my way out. Want me to pick up something for dinner?” Rissy had a thing about cooking. It often seemed she cooked like he ran, to work out her frustrations, or just because she enjoyed it.
She hesitated, said something to someone at the bank, then replied to him. “Okay, sure.” Distracted, she added, “Whatever you feel like having is fine by me.”
He felt like having her. “Hungry?”
“I missed lunch, so yes, I’m starved.”
Armie frowned. She hadn’t had breakfast, either, and it concerned him. “You need a more regular meal routine.”
She ignored that, saying, “It’s crazy, but I’ve been hungry at the oddest times.”
Stress? Armie wondered. Merissa wasn’t one of those ladies on a perpetual diet, but neither was she a big eater. She ate what she wanted, cooked often and enjoyed dessert whenever the craving hit. “I’ll pick out something good,” he promised.
“Thanks. I should go.” She made a kissing sound into the phone. “See you soon.”
Even after the call ended, he stood there grinning.
“Sap,” Leese said as he stepped out of a shower stall.
Armie tucked away the phone. “With good reason.” He turned to Leese, then did a double take at the addition of muscle mass. “You’re getting ripped.”
“A sap and a perv.”
Armie paid no mind to the insult. “Not that you didn’t have a good base to start with. But all the extra time you’ve put in shows.”
Leese gave him a look, then relented. “Maybe. But I’m still not as fast as I’d like to be. And my ground game is lacking.”
True enough. Leese showed promise, but none of it came to him naturally. “Give it time.”
Towel slung over his shoulders, Leese headed for the locker and drew out his boxers. “Or,” he said, “I could rethink all of it.”
With his shoulder propped against the block wall, Armie crossed his arms and tipped his chin at Leese. “That what you’re doing?”
Leese pulled a shirt on over his head, then sat to pull on socks. “Here’s how I see it. I’m good enough to have a significant edge against most yahoos on the street. But in the cage? Against guys like you or Cannon?” He met Armie’s gaze. “Not a chance.”
There was a dose of honesty for you. Armie silently agreed, but said nothing.
“The idea of competing and always coming up short doesn’t excite me much. I love training, so I can’t see ever leaving that. But I was thinking...”
When he trailed off, Armie asked, “What?”
“Just between us?”
Curiosity piqued, Armie nodded. “Sure.”
“I actually wouldn’t mind some input.” Leese pulled on jeans, then sat again to tie up running shoes. When he finished, he stood to face Armie, tugged at his ear, then explained, “There’s a security firm up north from here. They’re looking to add some bodyguards who’d get hired out—personal protection type stuff.”
Hadn’t seen that coming! “A bodyguard? No shit?”
“No shit.”
First Armie had heard of it, but damn, he liked it. “Sounds fucking awesome, dude.” Grinning, he held out a fist.
Wearing his own grin, Leese bumped his fist to Armie’s. “I’d have to carry a gun, along with some other equipment. And you don’t get to pick your assignments so if you’re thinking it’ll always be some sexy lady, with me playing Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard, I’m pretty sure it’s usually out-of-shape businessmen and visiting dignitaries that need the muscle.”
“It’s still totally badass.”
Leese laughed. “I plan to stay in shape, and I can’t see ever giving up my workouts—”
“It’s in your blood.”
“Yeah.” Stuffing his workout clothes into his gym bag, Leese said, “It wouldn’t happen for six months or so. I need to qualify, pass a background check, get in some time at the shooting range, stuff like that.”
“But you’ll be moving out of Rissy’s house?”
“Eventually, yeah. But hey, I figure by the time I need to go, you’ll have things worked out. Right?”
Six months. Who knew if he’d even be in Rissy’s life at that point? So much could happen between now and then.
So much was happening now.
Dodging the question, Armie asked, “How do you like the house so far?”
“It’s good. Lots of room.” He hefted his heavy bag. “Been quiet, too, in case you’re wondering.”
Shrugging, Armie said, “I figured you’d mention something otherwise.” Still chatting amicably, they left the rec center together.
The night was dark earlier than usual and fat gray clouds rolled one over the other, blocking out any light from the moon.
Leese looked up at the sky. “Storm’s coming in.”
“Looks like.” They separated, Leese heading to his truck, Armie strolling toward his across the street and in a vacant lot. He was almost to it when a shadow shifted away from a squat, squalid building. He paused, eyes searching...
“Hey.”
Bray. A tidal wave of relief rushed through Armie. Caught between grabbing the kid up in a happy hug and giving him a stern lecture for scaring him, Armie stopped, his feet planted, his heart thumping heavily. He had him now, and this time he’d make sure Bray got the message.