SEVEN
Ward
It was easier to accept it when I thought it was just a patron, just another of the lowlife scum that darkened the door at Hex on any given fight night.
Some I knew.
Some were strangers.
The ones I knew, I was convinced, weren't the type to raise their hands to a defenseless woman. In fact, more times than not, the local syndicates like The Henchmen and Hailstorm and even Luca and his family had been known to step up to defend women in bad situations, not pile-on, not create more women with scars they had to carry around, that they had to stroke in quiet moments, marveling at how the skin had managed to fit itself back together when whatever it had been holding inside was now gone.
So it being some out-of-towner who got word about Hex, and decided to visit? Yeah, I could have lived with that. I would have still been pissed, but I could move on.
But the fact that it wasn't a patron at all, but a man in my employ?
Yeah, that shit was not going to stand.
I waited until Laz shuffled Adalind into her car, watching on the camera, seeing the confusion, the hurt, but knowing there was time to deal with that later.
Because on a camera screen right below that one, Kenny was running a finger down the jaw, then cupping the chin of a girl who was blissfully unaware how just a couple days before, he had put a nasty bruise on a woman in just that location.
Anger, for me, was a strange thing.
I didn't, as a rule, feel it often.
Anymore.
It had, at one time, been my only true constant companion, my only friend in the world. But once I got free of all that shit I had been through, I had learned to let it roll off, to deal with it, then move onto the next.
But there were times every now and again when it surged, when something happened that reminded me of the beast that did still exist within, an animal kept on a chain since I was seventeen, when I learned to harness it in a different way than I had been raised to.
This, well, this was one of those times where it wasn't just rattling its chain; it fucking broke it in half.
I threw open the door to my office, walking out into the crowd, anxiously anticipating the final fight of the night, a fight that would be the bloodiest of any those who were new had ever seen. The bets were probably double the ones for the other fights of the night.
"Kenny!" I roared as soon as my gaze landed on him, making not only him and the girl he was chatting up jump and stiffen up, but everyone who had heard me.
Which was, well, everyone.
"Boss? What's up with you?"
"Did you seriously fucking think you were going to get away with that shit?" I asked, voice no less strong even as I closed in on him, everyone seeming to sense the need to step away, clearing a path for me.
"What are you talking about?" Kenny asked as his girl - smartly - took several feet away, rejoining a group of her friends who were watching like this was the show for the night, even as Pagan moved over to the side of the cage, leaning his forearms against it, clearly not worried that his fight was getting delayed, likely excited to see his boss lose his shit.
"What? You lose your last fight, and you think you can take that shit out on a woman?" I asked, and I could swear I heard Pagan mutter Oh, shit.
To his credit, for which he had very little, Kenny had the sense to look worried. He even went back a step.
"You thought cutting the cameras and wiping the backup would erase the fact that you raised your arm, cocked a fist, and knocked out a woman?" My hands slammed into his chest, sending him back several feet.
He took the hit with a grunt, but the impact seemed to make it happen, make his own animal break its chain and come out to snarl back.
And I saw it.
What I had missed when I vetted him, what I missed every time I interacted with him since then.
I wasn't sure there was even a name for the look in his eyes, but the closest I could come up with was wild. He was base, a savage, nothing left of a normal, civilized human being.
While I generally prized my fighters who could use that side of themselves in the ring, I never would allow one into my establishment who didn't have nearly one-hundred percent control of it otherwise.
If all it took was a shove to the chest - or a few comforting words - to set him off, yeah, he had no business in society as a fucking whole.
"Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can and can not do, huh?" he asked, charging toward me.
"I'm the man who pays your goddamn bills, that's who I am. Who keeps your skill-less ass off the motherfucking streets. The man who owns the building you led that woman to, the parking lot where you knocked her unconscious, and the goddamn dumpster where you left her unconscious body. That's who I am!"
"Ward," Laz said behind me, knowing better than to try to reach out, but trying to make it clear that he thought things were getting out of control.
"You don't own me, asshole," Kenny shot back, moving a step closer, almost nose-to-nose with me. "And what the fuck do you care about some stupid bitch?"
Oh, that was just not a good place to take this.
"That stupid bitch," I said, hand flying out, grabbing his throat, fingers curling in, and lifting upward, making him go up on his toes, "now belongs to me," I roared in his face. "That's what the fuck I care, you stupid, ungrateful, cowardly shit!"
"Yo," a different voice said, not hanging back like Laz. If there was a man who didn't hold back, it was Pagan. "You're giving them all a free show," he said, clamping a hand down on my elbow. "Settle this another time," he added, making my vision clear of the red it seemed clouded with, allowing me to realize Kenny's lips were turning blue.
My hand lessened then left him completely.
"You too pussy to face me in a match?" I asked, knowing it was a bad idea, knowing it would fuck with my head, knowing I had spent years trying to keep the urge to hit things down.
"Here?" he rasped, and I knew his throat was feeling a fuckuva lot like he swallowed glass right about now. "Like I would trust you to keep it fair."
"Grudge matches aren't for Hex anyway, stupid shit," Pagan supplied. "You don't mix business with pleasure," he added, smiling, always being a sick fuck who enjoyed tense situations, loved poking sleeping bears.
"Where then?"
"If you know dick about fighting," I said, having to bite the inside of my cheek to stay grounded, "you know exactly where. Now get the fuck out of my building. You're never welcome here again."
With that, trusting Pagan and the rest of my men to see to my instructions, I went back to my office, having to focus so I didn't slam my door, pretty sure I would split it if I did.
I paced my office, trying to shake it off, trying to get the beast back on a chain.
It was a long couple of minutes before I heard the door open.
I didn't have to turn to know who it was.
Lazarus was the closest thing in the world I had to a friend, though we generally didn't get involved with each other's shit.
"That was interesting," he said, and I turned to find him leaning back against the door. "So she is a friend of yours."
"Didn't plan on it," I admitted. "I brought her to the hospital. I planned to leave her there."
"And..."
"And then she came back to Hex the next morning trying to find her purse, keys, phone, and get her car unlocked."
"So you helped."
"She got attacked on my property."
"Yeah," he said, lips tipping up. "I'm sure that was all it was. It had nothing at all to do with how gorgeous she is. And the fact that she doesn't seem to mind your icy ass."
"I can't fucking believe his nerve," I said, tone calmer, talking it out seeming to take some of the rage away. "Not only to do that and here, of all places. But then to sneak back in, sabotage the cameras, and get into my computers. What the fuck is he on that makes him think he can get away with that?"
"He can't. You just made that shit clear. Pagan even picked a date and time for your grudge match while he escorted Kenny off the premises."
"Tell me his brand of escorting means there will be bruises to remember it by."
"Well, you know Pagan," Laz said, smirking.
Laz and Pagan were both members of a local gun-running MC - The Henchmen. Their brotherhood ran deeper than their loyalty even to me, the man who had given them each a desperately needed leg-up in life. They were polar opposites personality-wise, but still had a deep respect for each other.
"Good," I agreed, sighing. "So what is the time and date of the match?"
"Tuesday night at nine."
"Of fucking course he picked nine," I said, snorting.
There was no lighting there.
It would be pitch save for the lights people who wanted to come and watch would bring.
Creepy.
Dark.
Forbidden.
Yeah, that sounded about right.
"Have you thought this through?" Laz asked, moving away from the door when there was a knock.
In walked one of the bartenders, giving me a small smile because it was part of her job, and dropping a drink on my desk. At my questioning gaze, she shrugged. "Some guy said to send you one of your usual with the note that he is excited to see you lose your shit again. Don't worry," she said, sending me a saucy smile - the entire reason I hired her, the fact that she knew who she was, and wasn't afraid to wear it on her sleeve, even at work. "He tipped me."
With that, she was gone, and I took the whole of the bourbon in one pull, enjoying the burn.
"Thought what through?"
"The fight. No offense, boss, but I've never seen you fight. I have seen Kenny. I have fought Kenny. He is decent."
"Maybe you haven't seen me, Laz," I said, looking off at the cameras. "But I could take down Pagan and Igor at the same time. And that is without a personal reason for doing so."
"So she is a personal reason, huh?" Laz asked, latching on.
"Something like that."
"Never seen you speak to a woman more than one night in a row."
And, to be fair, that was accurate.
I didn't do commitment.
Quite frankly, no woman in her right mind would even want that from me.
Could I fuck her until she saw the face of God? Yes. Could I remember to call her, text her, get her flowers for her birthday and Valentine's Day, and give a shit about her friends? Ah, fuck no.
And I always made it clear that one night was all they were getting. At their place. So I could leave after.
No hard feelings.
But no further discussion on the matter.
"That's not a lie," I agreed.
"Yet one could assume you talked to her when you picked her up off the ground. And the day after when she came back here. And tonight..."
"Yeah, I get it Laz," I said, smirking.
"She seems sweet," he tried, changing course.
"She is. Too fucking sweet."
"Offsets your sour then," he said, pushing off the door, and moving to open it. "Well, I hope it goes well. You could use a good woman in your life, Ward. And I'll be right there on Tuesday."
"Hey Laz," I called as he pulled the door closed.
He popped his head back in. "Yeah?"
"If you're betting, bet on me."
With that, he was gone, leaving me to sit out the rest of the night, watching the cameras, and wondering shit I had no business thinking about.
Like if Adalind was pissed at me for dismissing her like I did.
Then, as it would go, I wondered why the fuck I was thinking those things, how things had gotten that far out of fucking hand so fast.
My gaze went to my desk, and I could see her there again, her breasts bared, her pink nipples in tight points, the skin impossibly soft. I could still hear the needy whimpers and the desperate pleas for relief. I could still taste her sweetness on my tongue.
Even just the memory had my cock hardening, wondering what it would be like to get inside her, to feel her nails on my back, to feel her pussy squeeze me when she came. Multiple time.
Normally, no big deal.
There was nothing wrong with wanting a woman for a night.
The problem was, I was pretty sure that was not all there was to it.
And that shit, yeah, I didn't understand that.
I didn't cultivate any kind of relationships.
As a rule.
I didn't have the time.
I didn't have the passion.
Then there was the issue of no sane woman wanting to be near me once they knew where I had been, what I had done in life, why I had all my guards.
So keeping them all at a distance saved both our times.
Why then was I wondering about this woman, wanting to see more of this woman?
Was she - as I had heard both Laz and Pagan say after they found their women - simply just a game-changer?
That made no sense, sure, seeing as she was a practical stranger. I found out a small bit about her past while at dinner. I knew what she tasted like. I knew what she sounded like when she was coming.
But I didn't actually know her.
And, quite frankly, I didn't know enough about things such as relationships to know if it was normal to be as interested, as invested as I felt this soon. For all I knew, this was how shit happened. You met someone, something seemed to click, and then that clicking made you want to keep seeing them.
I guess that made a lot of sense if you thought about it.
The problem was, this girl, this sweet girl caught up in a bad situation, didn't need to get wrapped up with me.
But she didn't know that yet.
It was good if she was pissed at me.
That was the smart mindset to have with regard to me.
I pushed her away.
After going down on her in my office.
After she remembered the events that led to her bleeding behind a dumpster.
After she likely needed my comfort, not my anger.
So she drove home after I demanded she leave, likely confused, hurt, and angry.
Which was how it should be.
So there was no reason to be sitting around and fucking obsessing about this shit.
I had work to do.
Three hours later, another thirteen thousand in the safe, I did my rounds, changing the security codes to the building, then making my way out to my car.
Tired.
That was a good way to describe how I was feeling.
And not just physically.
I was always beat.
I never got enough sleep.
That was my life.
I functioned just fine like that.
This was different.
I was tired on a level that had nothing to do with sleep.
Emotionally tired.
Life tired.
I was usually too busy, too used to it to notice.
But it was the same shit day in and day out.
I woke up, worked out, ate, handled basic life shit, went to work, then worked most of the night, home, bed. Shower, rinse, repeat.
For years.
It never occurred to me before to be sick of it, over it, to want to do more. Because, quite frankly, what I had managed to create for myself was monumental. The kid I had once been could never have anticipated a sports car, expensive suits, and people walking around calling me 'boss.'
Hell, the kid I had once been couldn't have imagined a full stomach, let alone riches.
I turned over the engine, but reached for my phone instead of the gear shift.
Are you still awake?
It was barely two minutes before I got a reply.
Addy: Not usually at this hour, but I have a lot to think about.
Did you perhaps think about locking that deadbolt?
I got back a guilty-face emoji.
Don't ask me what possessed me to write the next sentence. Especially after spending the better part of an hour convincing myself that it was better to stay away. But whatever the motivation, I couldn't seem to stop my fingers from typing it.
How about a late dinner to apologize for being an ass earlier?
Addy: I think we're closer to breakfast than dinner at this point.
An early breakfast then...
There was a whole two minutes before my phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down, taking a deep breath, preparing for her rejection. What else would take her so long? She was probably looking for a way to let me down easy.
Addy: Where?
Ah, the tricky part.
My place.
Addy: You cook?
I order really well.
There was another pause, but this time, I could see her simply trying to find a way not to sound too eager, or maybe trying to convince herself to come up with an excuse that she knew she wouldn't.
Just early breakfast, Addy. That's all I want.
Though, if she wanted more, I was willing to give her that as well.
Addy: What's the address?
I texted it off, then drove there to make sure I would get there first, figuring she would be confused when her navigation made her pull into a hotel instead of a private residence.
Technically, the hotel only had eight resident apartments, three on two separate floors, and then two penthouse suites up top. Where I lived. The other belonged to another family in the area, men who I respected, even if normal society would shun their business. Loansharking. Almost the entire Mallick family from the father to three of the sons were local loansharks - among other things.
Our suites were accessed through a private keyed elevator that led to a hallway where our rooms were on either side. The entire Mallick family had stock in the other penthouse, using it for a safe place when things got heated, or for holidays, or anniversaries. It was empty most of the time.
"Mr. Ward," one of the porters called, giving me a nod as I pulled up toward him.
"A woman is going to pull up in a blue car in a couple minutes, confused. Send her toward the residence entrance."
"Yes, sir," he agreed, showing no signs of surprise or distaste at me having a woman over so late. Or a woman over at all, seeing as I never had company.
Ever.
No one - save for people who worked at the hotel - had stepped foot inside my place since I moved in, something I had always preferred.
I guess there was a first time for everything.