Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise Stories Book 2) (40 page)

BOOK: Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise Stories Book 2)

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A few weeks after Abel joined Eden2, Kursch was settled again in the apartment above my garage, but I had no bedside manner, and his wish and commands were making me ornery. Sofie eventually shooed me off to Eden2, telling me she’d see me after her classes. We were falling into a routine, and I’d never thought I’d admit it, but I loved it. Sofie was the most beautiful woman, inside and out. She took care of me, and I planned to take care of her, all the days of our life.

I was thinking these thoughts as I stood ringside and watched my two guys train. Malik was the hot head, which was confirmed as he made an illegal move and took Ray to the mat. I’d struggled with my forgiveness of them, but Sofie encouraged me. They didn’t know what they were doing, she explained, other than trying to protect her and me. It was hard to accept that others cared about me, but noticing how hard these two trained proved that they valued what I offered. Continuing to watch them struggle, Ray didn’t complain, but sprang upward with wolf-like reflexes and pounced on Malik. The two went down again and tumbled to the edge of the cage.

“Quit molesting each other. This isn’t a bromance. Fight, you fuckers!” I yelled at the two of them.

Ray’s good nature fit his name. He chuckled, despite the serious tension inside the ring. This pissed off Malik more and he charged for the leaner man. Blond hair also fit Ray. He looked like a surfer dude, which was more fitting for our California state, but this was the Valley. The ocean was miles away. Malik was dark. His green eyes and dark hair gave him an alien look. A green strip over the center of his head intensified the oddity. He looked like he wrestled with a fairy and she tarnished him with greenery.

The two carried on, circling and grunting, when I heard my phone ring in the office. Walking the distance, I was too late to answer it, and I hoped I hadn’t missed a call from Sofie. I checked the screen. No message there. Returning to the main floor, a woman was standing outside the ring. Long reddish waves, the color of a lion’s mane, flowed down her back in delicate ripples. She wore a coat of sheep-like skin, curly and cream colored that came down to mid-thigh. Dark leggings stuck out below the short jacket and tucked into high black boots. She stood with her legs spread apart, her hands resting inside the pockets of her jacket. I could only imagine the intensity of her stare, as the two men in the ring were suddenly putting on the fight of their life.

Malik struck Ray hard, forcing his head back, but Ray recovered quickly with a swift right hook to the throat. Malik stepped back, then pounced forward in a series of one-two punches to Ray’s firm abs. Taking the beating, he grabbed Malik’s head and forced him back, then took out his legs with a sweep of his foot behind Malik’s calves. Down went the larger of the two men, that silly strip of green flopped as dust blew up into the air above the mat.

“Boys, boys, boys,” came the sweet voice of the female before me. Tender was her tone but there was a bitter edge to the sound.

“No need to put on a display. This lady isn’t interested in tramps,” she laughed without humor. Ray slowly smiled in her direction, but Malik’s eyes narrowed in displeasure. For fear that she would be the next opponent, I stepped forward to our visitor. We didn’t have many random women enter the place, but I did offer female training and self-defense classes. With her lean structure assessed from the back, I doubted she was here to train. From the bitterness in her voice, it could only be self-defense she sought.

As I stepped closer, I saw her bristle. Her back straightened and she stilled. I suddenly feared I was about to face a former one-night stand. I didn’t consider anyone a previous lover. Sofie had been the only woman I’d ever love. My own fists clenched as I came up behind this intruder. Preparing to speak, she spun on me. Blue eyes fixed me to the ground. I blinked twice as that royal color melted me. There was no doubt who she was, the coloring of the eyes was too similar.

“Evangeline,” I stuttered, hardly able to form the syllables around my younger sister’s name.

“Cain, big brother,” she snipped with dislike. Her eyes roamed over my body, as if she was assessing me. I actually shivered at the predatory glance. A wolf in sheep’s clothing came to mind as she stood in her wooly white jacket, but the ruffle of her hair reminded me again that a lioness was more like it. And she was ready to hunt me down.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned, without further greeting.

“What, no welcome home? Oh, right, that’s only for the prodigal
sons
,” she bit.

Taking the inquisition in a new direction, I asked a different question.

“How did you get here? Why aren’t you in school?” I asked. It was fall semester of her senior year, and Evie was barely eighteen years old.

“I quit,” she offered smugly, holding her head up proudly.

“You … what?” My fingers spread beside me and my hands twitched. Tempted to reach forward and shake her, like the child she clearly was, I took a deep breath and tried again. “How?”

“I’m eighteen, and I’m tired of the East Coast. Besides,” she paused. “It appears I’ve been cut off.”

“Cut off?” I stammered. This was impossible. I’d been the one in charge of Evie’s finances. Her school tuition. Her summer holidays. Her bodyguard.

“Daddy going to jail wasn’t well looked upon,” she offered, and it became a little clearer. The school cut her off. The rich and famous of the East Coast had a hard time accepting her, despite the money. After all, she was still the daughter of an Irish immigrant fighter in the end.

“How did you get here? To California? To Eden2?” The questions were not coming out fast enough.

“I brought her,” said a familiar voice behind me. I spun to see Abel and was stunned by the uncanny resemblance between his eyes and my younger sister’s. The royal blue coloring was unparalleled and the jewel tone, one hundred percent our mother’s. My breath hitched at the thought as I took a second look at Evie. She looked exactly like our mother: the honey-red hair, the blue eyes, the determined look on her face.

“She’s staying with me,” Abel offered.

“Like hell she will,” I barked, taking control of this situation.

“What’s wrong with staying with me?” Abel questioned.

“Nothing, but you have to finish school,” I stated.

“About that…”

“No,” I cut him off. He was finishing. We’d had this discussion. The circuit would still be there in another few months. He could train. He could fight, but he wasn’t giving up college to go full-time fighting until he had a degree.

“But…” Abel pouted, and for the briefest of seconds, he sounded like when he was a child. I leveled him with a glare then looked over at my sister. Her blue eyes danced and she smiled slowly back at me. I recognized that smile. I’d seen it many times before on a face I was too familiar with in the mirror. My blood slowed like a river coming to a narrow stream. I realized I had another fight ahead of me.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” She finished that evil smile, and I suddenly knew; family still would be the death of me.

The list of people to thank seems to grow each book, but with LUCKY 13, I am abundantly grateful. This story will publish near the anniversary of my first book – two years equals twelve novels, one novella, three anthologies, and a chapter in a collective work. WOW! To those who have been on the journey with me, I am eternally in your debt for your support in fulfilling a dream.

Thank you to Kari Ayasha, cover designer extraordinaire, and Lance Jones, model turned photographer, who not only was the model, but took his own image for this cover. Thank you to Brenda Wright, formatter with the patience of a saint when I find one more thing. Thank you to Karen Hrdlicka, editor. What can I say to her? It’s been an amazing ride and my deepest gratitude for your friendship.

On the note of friends, I need to thank a special few: Sylvia Schneider. Where do I start with you? People come into our lives for a reason, and I’m not certain what I do for you, but you do so much for me. Hugs to you. Amy Adrian Kehl, you
are
one of the greatest pimpers ever. Karen Fischer and Ella Stewart, two of my very consistent beta readers. Words escape me, which you notice at times in my writing (LOL). Thank you a million times over. I am so very, very fortunate for your expertise in catching the little things. Thank you to my additional betas this time: Shannon Passmore, Tammi Hart, Becca Dawn and Christy Preer Mitchum. For all the details you questioned, then made me question, it was an amazing experience. Finally, to Brandy Riveria and Rebecca Brooke who took time out of their busy writing schedule to do the hardcore edits and comments I needed. Phew! I adore you, ladies.

As always to Author BFFs for listening to me, and all my wonderful, amazing, cheerleading blogger friends. Blogs rock the indie world and there aren’t enough pages to list you all. Final thank you, to you, the reader: the supporter who buys the book, the reviewer who posts a review, the word-of-mouth who tells a friend, and the person who loves my characters (or hates them) like I do…the stars in heaven and then some for you.

And always last in my list, but first in my heart, my own family of fighters: Mr. Dunbar, MD1, MD2, JR and A. #Fight4Love – I do it daily for each of you.