Fight for Her #4: MMA New Adult Contemporary Romantic Suspense (7 page)

I plunge a little harder and tweak this spot I’ve rediscovered. I know when she’s gone over because her pelvis rises up and her whole body shakes. Her cries aren’t actual words anymore, but a long string of sounds. It’s musical, beautiful, my Maddie in her element.

Only when she starts to settle down again do I slow my movements, bringing her to a quiet place, but definitely not to rest.

I am not even close to done with her.

Chapter 12: Maddie

I want to settle onto the floor, relax into what has just happened, but Parker has other ideas. He lifts me up into his arms and carries me into another room of his apartment.

His bedroom.

In any other situation, I would want to look around, see what sort of space Parker has lived in. But his eyes are intense, on me like a hungry wolf. I know this back and forth of ours, getting together, splitting apart, coming together again, has made our lives a hellish roller coaster.

Maybe that’s just the way our lives were meant to be.

Light from the adjoining bathroom spills gently onto the bed as he places me down on it. His hands push my hair back. Something’s shifted. Parker closes his eyes for a minute, his eyebrows drawn together. He leans over me but his arms are trembling like it’s a great effort.

But it’s not physical exertion getting him. It’s emotional. I run a hand along his bulky arm, across the tattoo of a sunburst. He drops his head.

“How long?” he says, his voice thick.

I don’t know what he means.

“How long until what?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer right away. I keep my hand on his arm, lightly touching him. He rests only partially against me, propped up.

“Until you leave me again.”

My breath catches. I’m causing him pain. But this wasn’t my choice. Not this time.

“Parker.”

Now his voice has more fierceness. “How fucking long, Maddie? How long until you do this again?”

I don’t know what to say. His moods are shifting faster than I can follow.

“I don’t plan it,” I say. “It just happens. Probably it’s always going to happen.”

“No,” he says flatly. Then his mouth crashes onto mine, relentless, unstoppable. The world tilts, and I’m drowning in his attention, the intensity of his emotion, his pain, his need. His hands are everywhere, my hair, my breasts, my body. He parts my knees and expertly works the nub. I respond instantly, as I always have to him. He knows me so well.

His mouth lowers to a nipple, teasing it out. I’m spiraling up again, the tension gathering in my belly. I want it again. I’m desperate for it.

“Tell me you won’t leave me,” he says.

I’m gasping, clutching at his shoulders. “I won’t,” I say.

His movements are faster, harder. I can barely think.

“Promise,” he says.

“I will. I do.”

He moves between my thighs, and without even adjusting the pressure of his hand, plunges deep into me. I cry out loudly enough for the sound to echo off the walls.

Parker works hard and fast. His free hand goes beneath me, lifting me up to him.

Every stroke is like a heat wave, flashing through me. For a little while, I’m just lost in it, and the tension abates. I am nothing but a reaction to what he does to me, shifting in rhythm with his movements.

He removes his hand for just a moment, and the loss of that sensation makes me whimper. He smiles and brings it back. The tension whips back into place, hard and tight and demanding. The spiral makes its way back up my body, muscles tightening around him.

When I start to convulse, the waves coursing around him, he lets go. The warmth floods through me, the throbbing of him inside me playing against the pulsations of mine.

I lose my sense of reality, drifting without gravity or direction. I only feel Parker’s strong arm still lifting me, and the hardness of his thighs pressed against mine.

He pulls his hand away and braces over me on the bed. Slowly he lowers me to the sheets. In the darkest corners of the room, I see a shower of white sparks, like I’ve squeezed my eyes too tightly and have only just opened them again.

There is nothing like this. Nothing.

What risks should someone take for this? What risks should I take?

Parker closes his arms around me and lifts my head to his chest. I let him hold me. I would take any chance on myself for him. I would sacrifice anything.

But I’m not the only person whose life is in Parker’s hands.

There’s Lily.

Now it’s my turn for emotion to crash through me. I try to hold it in, but it grows too big to contain and suddenly my chest heaves with the suppressed sob. “They threatened Lily,” I finally say, the words I have to say.

Parker goes completely and utterly still. “They did what?”

“They said I had to break up with you or they would come for her.”

Every muscle in his body tenses with the strength of steel.

He pulls away from me. “This ends now.” He picks up his phone.

I sit up. “What are you going to do? If you hurt him, if you do anything drastic, your life is over. Jail time. All of it.”

“I don’t have to,” he says, his voice very hard. He stands up and heads out of the room.

I jump from the bed to follow. “What are you going to do?” I ask.

“What I should have done before now,” he says. He sounds so cold and resolute that fear spikes through me.

He picks up his phone. He taps out a message, then hits send with more force than needed.

“Who was that?” I scramble for my clothes, feeling an urgent need to be dressed and ready.

Parker sits back on the sofa, naked, angry, and without any trace of regret. “Jax.”

The silk-shirt man from the warehouse. The one who came for me. “What did you tell him?”

He leans forward and lets his phone skid across the coffee table. When it stops near the edge, I pick it up. Parker has only typed two words.

Finish this.

Chapter 13: Parker

I know I should be the hero here. I should track down Striker and kill him with my bare hands.

Or I should work the system. Have him arrested for his threats. Let him do jail time.

But neither of those things appear to be an option.

Maddie dashes around, throwing on her clothes. I feel detached from her for the moment. I’ve had to invoke Jax and his crew to clean up my mess. I don’t like it. I destroyed Striker in Vegas in a street fight. And four of his fighter friends. But they just keep coming, like a zombie horde.

And now they’ve threatened my daughter.

“Where are you going?” I ask Maddie.

“To my mom’s. I have to be with Lily.”

I stand up. “I’ll come with you.”

She holds up her hand. “No. You just sent that message. You stay away from us.”

“You could be in danger.”

“Then call Colt. Have him send someone. You stay away.”

Shit. I know she’s right.

“When this is over, I’m coming for you,” I say.

She pulls on her jeans. “Is this ever really going to be over?”

“One way or another. We can’t live like this.” I walk over to the kitchen counter, where the ring box has sat since I got back. I pick it up.

Maddie is dressed and rushing for the door. But when she sees what I’m holding, she stops dead.

I hold it out to her. “You need to take this now,” I say. “It’s time.”

She shakes her head. “Not right now. We can talk about it when we’re clear of all this mess with Striker.”

I drop it back to the counter and strike the tiles with my fist. I’m angry about it. It’s not what I want. But Maddie’s probably right.

“Will you call Colt?” she asks.

“I’ll do it now.”

“Good.” She comes over to me and covers my fist with her hand. “I’ll let you know when I’m home.”

“Let me take you.”

“No. You’ve started something. I don’t want to be around you until we know it’s safe.” She lets go of my hand. “These are my streets. Where I grew up. It’s nothing. I’ll text you immediately when I get there.”

I stare at the tiles on the counter. “All right.”

Before I can say anything else, she has already slipped out the door.

I smash my palms against the ledge. I want to destroy something. And I want this man dead. But it’s not right to want that. I don’t know how to immobilize him. How to get him out of the picture. Jax seems resourceful. Maybe he will know a way.

My phone buzzes. I walk over to it, not sure if I want to even read the message.

It’s from Jax.

Consider it done.

Nothing else. No questions asked. No need for justification. Hell, maybe he already knows. Maybe he knew everything all along. I don’t know who those people are or what they do. But Colt trusts them. I’ll have to.

I send a quick note to Colt explaining that Lily was threatened and that I asked Jax to intervene. That Maddie didn’t want me and could he send someone over to her house. I forward her address, feeling a pinch of concern that maybe someone is watching and will know where she is now. I add one more message.

Hurry.

I feel absolutely useless.

I walk around, picking up clothes, getting re-dressed. I realize Maddie left the box with the booster seat. But I have the car anyway. I can figure out how to install it. I break open the tape.

It seems ludicrous suddenly. I’ve just sent a text setting some sort of mafia vigilante rogue cop person on my enemy, and I’m sitting on the floor reading instructions on how to install a kid seat.

I pull open the flaps. I picked a pink one, Lily’s favorite color. It’s so small, a little chair with an upholstered bottom and tiny armrests. There’s a cup holder, even.

The instructions are all pictures. I stare at them for several minutes, but I can’t concentrate on where the straps slide in and come out. I set it all aside.

Maybe I should go somewhere. Get in an illegal fight and pound someone. I’ll even let them have the winnings. I don’t care about that.

Buster’s is closed. I’ve never kept equipment at my apartment. Maybe I should. A punching bag would be great. I wonder if something’s open. I could go buy one.

Stupid mundane thoughts with so much happening.

My phone buzzes again and I snatch it up. It’s Colt, saying he has two of his dad’s ex-heavyweight boxer security guards heading to Maddie’s mother’s house. ETA ten minutes. He’ll be there himself within the hour.

I want to go too, but Maddie asked me not to. I walk over to the counter and pick up the ring box again and pop it open. The diamond sparkles in the light. I don’t know when I might get to see it on her finger.

My phone buzzes again. I turn to look at it, lit up on the counter. Then I grab it, staring, reading it again. It’s Jax.

The sister has intercepted Maddie. Get there quick.
 

Coordinates: 34.04225° N x 118.201014° W.

Lani. She was following her all along. I should have known. I should have gone with her.

I copy the coordinates into a maps app even as I yank the door open and run down the hall. Within seconds, I have the location.

Evergreen Cemetery.

Chapter 14: Maddie
 

I’m not sure what Parker meant by that text to Jax.
Finish this.
The words turn over and over in my mind.
 

I’m torn. Even though Striker was horrible and his friends kidnapped me, I don’t want to see him killed. That won’t solve anything. A trial. Who knows how that could play out? And the media attention. How am I supposed to keep Lily safe then? How far does this go?

I need air. I need to get away. My mother and Aunt Delores’s endless bickering sounds heavenly compared to this.

As I head to the bus stop, I’m so scared that I’m shaking. Maybe I should have had Parker drive me.

But this is my hometown. My neighborhood. I know these streets. I prowled them as a young girl, much more vulnerable than the woman I am now.

I cross two streets and head toward Cesar Chavez, where I can catch a quick ride up three stops to Mom’s house. I almost walk it, but it’s cold. It’s too close to bother with a taxi.

The long chain-link fence for the cemetery borders the sidewalk. It’s dark now, and the headstones are barely discernible in the few lights that dot the interior walks. I haven’t been along those paths since I was a teenager, where sneaking inside was a common dare in this neighborhood.

It’s not late. A young couple jogs on the running path, a rubbery trail that is new since I was last here. I guess they are trying to make the place more useful. The couple pass me, nodding in greeting.

Parker said my father sleeps in this cemetery. I slow down for a second, looking past the brittle vines that weave into the chain links of the fence. The headstones are like dark shadows across the fields inside. I shiver and keep walking.

Another jogger is approaching on the long stretch of sidewalk. She’s dressed oddly for a runner, in a hoodie pulled tight on her head, the strings tightened so that only her eyes show from the narrow oval on her face.

She slows down, as if she’s suddenly winded. She’s almost jogging in place, like she wants to stay where she is. Maybe she’s waiting for someone to catch up. She’s not very large. I don’t feel particularly worried about her. But still, something tickles along my spine. Anybody acting out of the ordinary is something I should notice.

I wonder if I should turn around and go back the other way. But the bus stop is just around the corner. I can hop on and be home in ten minutes if the route is on time.

So I push on.

I keep my eyes down on the sidewalk as I approach this girl, although I can see her ankles and shoes. I’m about to pass her when she grabs my shoulders and throws me against the chain-link fence.

I fight against her, but she shoves even harder and I realize I’m falling backward. This section of the fence is cut, and the crumbling vines part to let me through. The exposed wires snag my jacket, tearing at the leather.

The girl shoves me again and I hit the ground inside the cemetery.

She ducks through.

I scramble back on my hands and feet like a crab, trying to get away from her. She stands up and walks alongside me. It’s ridiculous, me on the ground, scooting away, and her following along. I stop and roll over so I can stand up.