Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3) (32 page)

“I trust you, Clover.”

He was rewarded for those words by a smile that made his heart ache. She really was his angel . . .

Her mouth claimed his, her little tongue tangling with his in a delicious way that made him ache to feel it in other places. The rush of blood flooding south made his head light, his body quickly shedding the haze of memories to come online and focus solely on this beautiful woman straddling his stomach. The heat of her core warmed his abs, the evidence of her arousal undeniably wet against his flesh. His erection strained toward her—just a little lower and she’d be right there. He shifted his hips, impatiently nudging her bottom with the head of his cock. He inhaled her laugher, and it was light blasting into his soul.

“Impatient?” she teased, kissing his jaw and working her way down his throat, nipping and sucking his flesh so hard, he had zero doubt she was leaving her mark behind.

Was that what she was doing? Marking him, claiming him as hers, just like he had done to her last night? Her beautiful, pale flesh bore several areas of evidence to that effect. The early-morning light filtering in through the curtain highlighted such a spot on her neck right now, and one on her breast. If he could see lower, he knew there would be a few more on her inner thighs and between her legs . . .

When she reached the base of his neck, she inhaled deeply, drawing his scent into her lungs. “I love the way you smell,” she whispered, dropping a kiss on his collarbone.

Damn, her sweet voice and teasing kisses were going to make him come right here and now. He wanted to touch her—to grab her hips and slam her down on his cock. She was lucky she’d tied his hands or he’d be taking over the show, but something told him he didn’t want to miss this episode.

He tensed when her lips traveled through his minefield of scars—the reaction was involuntary. Her eyes shot up to his, but her mouth never left his chest. She was perfection staring up at him from the wreckage of his flesh—his greatest failure beside his greatest treasure.

“Do they hurt?” she whispered.

Like you wouldn’t believe
. . . “No,” he croaked, his voice broken by emotion.

Her smile was small—knowing—understanding. But thank God there was no pity. He didn’t think he could stand to see that emotion in those beautiful eyes when they looked up at him.

“You’re beautiful, Nikko . . .” she whispered, worshiping a path down his stomach, following the hard muscular lines.

His heart was hammering so hard in his chest, surely she could feel the ricochet on her lips, against her tongue. Her long, pale hair was like a blanket of silk, teasing the tops of his thighs as she moved lower. His breath left his lungs in a low tortured growl, exhaled through clenched teeth. His cock was so hard it was painful. Straining toward that gorgeous mouth, it wept with impatience.

She lifted her head, her lush lips hovering a mere inch over the heart of him. Waiting . . . Her breath teased the hot moisture escaping his slit, his own air frozen in his lungs as he waited for her sweet, soft kiss. When he couldn’t stand the torture any longer, he lifted his head and locked eyes with her. It was the hottest, most beautiful sight in his life—one that would be seared into his mind for all eternity—Clover staring up at him, her gorgeous mouth ready to take him.

Her knowing smile was brief and fleeting, and then her lips parted and she made him hers . . .

N
ote to self, the next time I get trashed, I’m wearing flats.”

Vi tightened her hold around Pen’s waist. Her friend’s arm was
slung over her neck for balance as they limped into the emergency room.

“This is ridiculous,” she continued to complain, crankier than her
usual hangover grump. “Emergency rooms are for dying people. Do I look like I’m dying to you?”

Yeah, something was definitely eating at Pen. “No, unless I decide to kill you for being the world’s biggest bitch.”

Pen stopped hobbling and canted her head to look at her. “That wasn’t very nice. What the hell kind of a therapist are you?”

There was a two-second pause before they both busted out laughing, making their trek to the double doors of the ER even more of a struggle.

“Apparently, not a very good one.”

“Oh, I don’t know. By the sounds coming out of your room this morning, I’d say you were pretty freaking good.”

Her jaw dropped, but she couldn’t hold back her smile. “I can’t believe you just said that.” Vi’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but there was no shame. What had happened between her and Nikko had been profound, and perfect beyond words. She wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

Pen gave her a teasing grin and winked. “I can’t believe you’re such a dirty whore.”

They both began laughing again as the double doors slid open and they stumbled through the entryway. “You sure you don’t want a wheelchair?”

“No, I don’t want to draw any attention to myself.”

“As opposed to what? This? We look like conjoined twins.”

“Penelope?” The deep male voice halted their laughter and they both looked up to see Kyle Scott standing in front of them.

Pen tensed, her dazzling smile instantly vanishing. Her friend certainly didn’t look very pleased to see him. Why not? “Hey, Kyle,” Vi offered, because someone had to say something.

His vibrant blue gaze dropped to Pen’s foot. “What’d you do to your ankle?”

“I twisted it,” she answered curtly.

She nudged Vi to keep moving, but they didn’t make it farther than a few more steps before Pen went airborne, letting out a startled yelp. She turned to find Penelope cradled in the fighter’s arm. He was wearing a cocky grin, and she was looking seriously pissed off. What was up with her? It wasn’t like Pen to be so rude.

“Put me down, Scott.”

But Kyle didn’t seem fazed by Penelope’s bite, nor was he listening. “You shouldn’t be walking on that ankle. It looks pretty bad.”

“That’s what I told her,” Vi chimed in, following them inside as Kyle carried her up to the front desk.

“What are you doing here?” Pen grouched as Vi signed her in. “Are you following me?”

He gave her a surprised look. What was her problem? Why would she think Kyle was following her?

“I had an MRI on my ACL,” he explained, his tone wary if not a little offended. “I think I should be asking you that question, seeing as
you
came in here after
me
.”

“You all can have a seat,” the nurse told them. “We’ll be with you as soon as we can.”

They turned and headed toward a row of chairs lining the wall of the waiting room. Kyle sat Pen down and said, “I should go.”

“Yeah, you probably should.”

“Pen!” Vi snapped, embarrassed for both of them. Seriously, that was rude. What in the hell was her problem?

Kyle didn’t seem as shocked by her bitchiness as Vi was. He just gave her a
whatever
glance and turned to leave.

“Thanks for your help, Kyle,” Vi called after him, trying to smooth over Pen’s nastiness. His hand shot up in a parting wave, but he didn’t bother to look back at either one of them. Once he exited the doors and there was zero chance of him hearing them, Vi turned on Pen and snapped, “What in the hell is your problem? I thought you liked Kyle.”

“He’s a creep.” She stated it as a matter of fact.

“Why? Because he helped you to a chair? You’re right, what a loser . . .”

“No, because he won’t stop calling me.”

This was the first time she’d heard actual fear enter her friend’s voice. “Really? Kyle doesn’t exactly seem like the stalker type.”

“You said yourself he was into me.”

“Yeah, but I never said he wanted to turn you into a lampshade. What’s he saying?”

“Nothing. I haven’t answered. He just keeps calling, again and again . . .”

“Then how do you know it’s him?”

“Who else would it be, Vi? The day after I sleep with the guy I start getting all these calls. He’s the only new factor in this equation.”

“I don’t know, Pen, that doesn’t seem like Kyle’s style. He doesn’t strike me as the kinda guy who has to badger women to go out with him. Tell me what happened.”

“I missed a call on my phone when we were having breakfast after he left, and by the time I saw it I had, like, eight missed calls.”

“Did he leave a message? Maybe he left his wallet on your bedroom floor or something.”

“No message. But then the texts started.
Why aren’t you answering me? Where are you? Who are you with?
I’m telling you Vi, it’s freaking me the fuck out.”

“I don’t blame you. Pen, this is serious. I just don’t think Kyle is your guy. No offense, but he’s not the first guy you’ve brought home for the night then blown off.”

“No . . .” Pen shook her head. “The timing’s too much of a coincidence. It’s him.”

“What about—”

Vi’s cell started ringing, cutting off her thought. She dug her phone out of her purse and checked the caller ID. “I gotta get this.”

Walking over to an empty spot near the window, Vi swiped her thumb over the screen, grinning like a teenager getting a call from the hot guy in high school. “Hi . . .”

“Hey, Clover. Can’t stop thinking about you, baby.”

“You can’t?” Butterflies went crazy in her stomach at the sound of that sexy voice rumbling against her ear.

“Nah . . . I’m distracted as hell. I ate a swinging back fist about an hour ago that rocked me almost as hard as you did this morning.”

She laughed. “Oh, no . . . Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Hey, listen, I’ve got a press conference later this afternoon, and then a dinner meeting with Coach and Dean tonight. I’m
not sure how long it’s going to last, so I might be over a little late.”

“Is everything all right? Do you know what the meeting is about?”

“No. But I’m sure everything is fine. They probably want to get together and talk fight strategy and stuff. Easton was supposed to be there, but Katie still can’t shake that bug. How’s our angry patient doing?”

“Pen? Grumpy and hungover. Kyle was here.”

“Scott? What’s he doing there?”

“He said he had an MRI on his knee.”

“Hey, Del Toro! Quit your yapping and get your ass back in that cage!”

“I gotta go, baby. Easton’s busting my balls.”

“Well, tell him to take it easy. I got plans for them tonight.”

She felt his low, throaty chuckle all the way to her toes. “Talk to ya later.”

He disconnected the call, and she shoved her cell back into her purse. Vi was headed back over to Pen when it rang again. Barry . . . Speaking of creeps . . . This was the third time he’d called today, and she hadn’t had the opportunity to get back to him yet.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Vi. I’ve got your records.”

“Already? Wow, that was fast.”

“Well, anything for you, sweetheart.”

Barf
. . . “I’ll give you my fax number and you can send them to my office.”

“Better yet, give me your address and I’ll bring them to you.”

Shit, she should have seen this coming, should have known there’d be a catch to his generosity. “That’s not necessary, Barry. You don’t need to come to Las Vegas.”

“Too late. I’m already on my way. Besides, I’m not faxing these records, Vi. There’s some sensitive shit in here.”

“You read them!”

“Of course I read them. I wanted to know what kind of patient you were treating that you couldn’t even get access to his file. Vi, do you have any idea how many people he’s killed? Including his own recon team?”

What?
There must be some kind of a mistake, some sort of explanation.

“I’m telling you, this guy is dangerous. I don’t like the idea of you treating him.”

“It isn’t your decision. When are you going to get here?”

“About seven. What’s your address?”

Oh, hell no. She was not about to tell Barry where she lived. If he thought Nikko was dangerous now, just wait until the fighter walked in and found her ex sitting at the kitchen table with her.

“I’ll meet you for supper,” she offered, making the sacrifice of having dinner together in hopes he wouldn’t press a more private meeting any further. “Picasso’s at seven thirty?”

“It’s a date. I’ll see you then.”

No, it wasn’t a date. She was about to hang up when he said, “Hey, Vi. I can’t wait to see you. I’ve really missed you, sweetheart.”

Vi tried to ignore the guilt gnawing at her gut. She told herself for the hundredth time she was doing this for Nikko, that she had no choice. It was only dinner. She could suffer through two hours with her ex if it meant helping Nikko. Vi hated dishonesty, and she abhorred lying, though it was a fine line she walked tonight. Nikko would be furious if he knew where she was and what she was doing. But meeting Barry for dinner was for the greater good. Sometimes people had to do things they didn’t want to do in order to help the ones they loved.

After what Barry had told her this afternoon, she was more convinced than ever she was doing the right thing. There had to be more to the story than Barry was telling her. Nikko wouldn’t kill his recon team. Something horrible must have happened, something he wouldn’t talk about, and she suspected that, whatever it was, Remmy was at the heart of it.

Vi glanced at her watch. If Barry wasn’t twenty minutes early, he was late, so she expected him to come strolling in any minute. She asked the waitress to seat her with a view of the door so she could easily spot him. The last time they’d seen each other, she’d been sitting beside her lawyer. Never in a million years would she have believed they’d be having dinner together again. Just the thought of it made her nauseous. As if her thoughts had the power to conjure, in walked the devil himself.

It didn’t take him long to spot her across the room. He flashed her one of those ten-thousand-dollar veneer smiles that was just as fake as the man wearing it. It was probably no coincidence he wore the suit she’d given him for his birthday two years ago. Looking at Barry now, Vi wondered how she’d once thought this man attractive. She couldn’t help comparing him to Nikko—a few inches shorter, Barry was thin and wiry, but what he lacked in stature he more than made up for in arrogance.

“Wow, Vi, you look amazing,” he said, coming over to her. She suffered through his hug and gave him her cheek when he went in to kiss her. Revulsion swept through her. What in the hell was he doing? Did he think he could just pretend last year hadn’t happened? That he hadn’t humiliated her and ruined her life?
Pretentious prick
. . . But the man had something Vi wanted, and she’d play nice until she got it.

“Thank you.” She accepted the compliment, awkwardly pulling away to settle back into her seat. “I appreciate your help getting these records.” Cool. Professional. Right to the point. “Do you have them?”

Barry handed her a manila envelope, and she stuffed it into her purse. “I’m sorry you felt you had to come all the way out here.”

“I wanted to see you,” he said, settling into the seat across from her. “Can I get you a drink? Perhaps a Chardonnay? You always loved a good dry white wine.”

Yes, she had, and that wine was a good analogy of her marriage to Barry, colorless and dry. He hadn’t changed—cocky, arrogant, entitled . . . Everything about him put her off. Had she really spent so many months crying over this man, mourning her failed marriage? Sitting across from him now, she felt the insane urge to thank him. She was free, and the path his betrayal had set her on had led her to someplace so much better. It had brought her to Nikko—a gorgeous man who didn’t need to wear four-thousand-dollar suits to look good, a man whose mere presence dominated a room.