Slam: A Bad Boy Romance (12 page)

Giggling, she said, “The book of Quinn?” Her brows shot up, sarcasm rested in the back of her voice.

Her laugh sent my stomach into my throat, she was radiating standing beside me. Her nose was tinged pink at the tip from the cold wind. Her delicate form shivered in the breeze, the gentle wisps of hair that jetted out from her hood tickled her skin.

It was in that moment I knew where she belonged.

Right by my side, always.

Tugging my hand from my pocket, I curled my fingers into hers. Gripping tightly, I pulled her in closer. A gust of wind pushed her perfume into my nostrils. It was intoxicating, sending the blood straight back into my cock.

I had her twice in less than twenty-four hours, and all I could think about was yanking her into an alley and fucking her again. I wanted to make her hips sore, see her walk with a grimace from her cunt being beaten into oblivion.

Her fingers squeezed around mine. “Are we there yet?”

“Are you five?” The words filtered between laughing.

Smacking my chest, she shot me a sideways glance. “You think you're funny, don't you?”

Shrugging my shoulders, my teeth bared brightly, eyes set forward.

We approached a large set of steps, two metal railings decorated the edges. The door was adorned with a large white poster, two faceless figures intertwined each other in the center.

“Here we are.” Gripping the handle, I peeled open the door, and a loud suction-filled gust of air spilled out.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“It's where I spend my spare time. The other night, you claimed I wasn't ready to fight. You assumed that I've had no practice.” The door closed forcefully behind us, the loud clank of the bar fixing back into position echoed through the cement walls.

“Okay, but what is this? A gym?” Her gaze searched for a name, a sign, anything to tell her where she was.

“Not exactly, come see.” Pressing her shoulder forward, we walked down a corridor. There were two double doors rested at the end. Muffled yells seeped, out filling the hall.

Turning the knob, the door swung inward, a rush of screams speckled with grunting and slaps hit our ears.

“What the hell is this?” Her face contorted over the picture before her.

“This, is the youth M.M.A group.”

Her eyes widened, still unsure of what I would be doing in a place like this. “And? You do what here?”

“I volunteer with the kids. I've been fighting for a long time, Cadence, and since I can't get in the ring anymore, I do the next best thing. I teach them how to.”

Her jaw dropped to the floor, tongue practically hanging out like a panting dog. “Seriously? You volunteer here?”

“Yup, it gives these kids something to do, and I get to use what I know best, fighting.” Crossing my arms over my chest, my back became rigid. I had just shocked the shit out of her, her face was priceless.

She thought she could peg me in a category fitted for those dirty scumbags she was used to seeing at the Ground Game.

I'm not what she thinks I am, I never was.

It was my promise to my best friend that brought me here.

This place had been my refuge.

Working for free didn't pay the bills, but being here gave me a sense of comfort. It gave my passion an outlet that wasn't actually fighting.

And to be honest, these kids could have ended up in a gang, running drugs, popping each other with a gun, or who knows what else.

For a few of these kids, I made a difference. I gave them the hope that they can do something with themselves, and taught them how to protect themselves without a weapon.

This had been my secret, and I felt compelled to share with Cadence.

She needed to realize that as flawed as I was, there was one thing I was proud of.

Here, in this place, with these kids.

“You have got to be shitting me? You teach these kids? Just because you want to?”

Shaking my head yes to each question, she stood in awe on top of the platform looking down.

There was about twenty kids, all varied in age. Punching bags hung from the ceiling, a couple of small practice rings divided the center. Sparring mats were sprawled around the room to practice floor maneuvers.

Watching the commotion below, we saw kids hitting the bags, while others took turns  sparring each other on the mat. Other volunteers guided them in their moves, correcting positions, encouraging them to keep going.

From the corner of my eye, one of the other coaches, a guy the kids called Sarge, sent a wave in my direction. Nodding my head up to the rafters, I said to her, “So, do you still think I'm an asshole?” My hands wrapped tightly around the bar anchored on the platform. “Maybe now you'll give me your number so I don't have to break in anymore.”

The muscles twisted in her face, barely a blink fell over her stare. “Is this why you can't fight? Because of this?” Her neck angled looking up, digging deep into my soul.

My tongue went numb, I knew she would ask again, still wondering
'why?'

Facing the kids, head trapped in a blank gaze, my mouth opened, trying to force it out.  I wanted to tell her the story I've kept inside. The demon of my past, the boiling fire of my gut.

The reason I went ape shit on Steel.

Her delicate fingers traced my knuckles, their tender feel sliding over my wrist and up my arm. With that single act the story flowed off my lips like hot lava. “It was almost three years ago. I used to fight professionally, and was really good at it too. I had been making my way up the scene, taking out guys as easy as it would be to steal fucking pudding from the elderly. Back then my drinking was... In its prime, I guess. Well, I went out one night, got really fucking wasted, and was supposed to have a huge match the next day.” Pausing, I forced air into my lungs; the hot oxygen soaking into my chest like sharp pins.

Cadence drew in air as if she was about to speak, holding my hand up, I silenced her. “Let me finish.” My head fell down, eyes empty as I relived that moment in my head.

Shifting my feet, I said, “I never made it to the ring, I was so fucked up, I had slept through the whole day, missing my fight. When I finally came to, I had grabbed my phone and saw, god, I don't know... Fifty missed calls.” My body shuddered and Cadence saw it. Her hand tightened firm around mine. “I called back my coach, and let me tell you, his words still echo in my head every fucking day, Cadence.” They replayed in my ears, ringing off my eardrums with gusto.

“Quinn, you missed a fight. Who-” Slicing her words in half, my voice growled from the back of my throat.

“That's not it.” Heaving my chest furiously, a rippled blade dug into my stomach, twisting its sharp edge, peeling back the wound I have tried to close. “My friend, my best friend, Rainee, he stood in for me, took my place. He shouldn't have been in that ring, fighting that day,
it was my fight.”
My teeth ground together as the words hit them from behind. “He died, Cadence. He died in the ring that day, and it should have been me.”

Her face went taut, lips sagging downward, eyes darting between mine. “Quinn, I-I'm sorry. I had no idea.”

My knuckles were white, gripping the bar to the point of numbness. My muscles twitched under my skin, contorting with anger, rage, hatred.

But, not for my friend, not for the man who stole his last breath.

I hated myself for not being there.

It should have been me.

“Rainee, he was family. His mother treated me like another son, it was her I gave that promise to. I told her I would never step foot in another ring. She pleaded with me to walk away, save my own life.” Turning to face Cadence, my hands fell by my side. “And that's what I did, I left.”

Gazing up, she stepped in close, her arms walking around my waist. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry you had got through that. But, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known, Quinn.”

Resting my chin against her cheek, the warm apple washed across my skin. For that instant, that single second in time, I felt alive.

It had been years since I felt my veins course with any sign of life. That loss, having had my best friend taken in a flash, it struck me to the core. There wasn't a moment that passed

Rainee didn't cross my mind.

Emptiness had consumed me from the inside, then I found these kids, and now...

Cadence.

From the first time I caught her in my sight, I was going to make her mine; Now, even with the threat of her father:

She WAS mine.

And I was going to do anything to keep it that way.

No one would take her from me, ever.

That was a promise I made to myself.

Cadence

P
ushing through the crowded street, I made my way towards Lee's Nails. If there was one thing I found relaxing, it was getting a good manicure.

I had to be at work in couple of hours and, with the week I've had, this afternoon of pampering was necessary.

Trying to force my mind clear, Quinn had settled right on top of every thought. I couldn't shake him off, his strong fingers had cemented their grip. He became my drug.

I had a taste, and now I was hooked.

Lifting my purse higher on my shoulder, I pulled out my phone and texted my friend Mia. She was meeting me at the salon for our monthly spa day. Mia had been one of my best friends for years.

And after what Quinn had said, what he went through with his friend, Mia had a more solid place in my world.

She worked at the bar for a short time and, we just kind of clicked. Besides myself, she had been the only other person I had ever trusted.

'
On my way. And have I got some shit to share.'
- hitting send, I shoved it back.

Pulling my shoulders to my ears, head set forward, I pressed on through the sea of people. A foggy daze filled my mind, Quinn had shown me a side of himself that he kept hidden.

Why would he show me that? He didn't have to, he wanted to.

I can't get him out of my fucking head, every damn day for the past week he's all I've thought about.

Doesn't he know my life is locked?

I'm trapped here, stuck in the only world I know.

There was no way in hell my father would ever let something interfere with his business, or me.

And if Quinn thought he could wriggle his grasp around me, tear me from the Macro; he was dead wrong.

My father wouldn't go down without a fight, he'd do
anything
to keep me here. I knew everything about the ring, about the nasty men who fought for him, and the scum that made his pockets fatter.

Fuck him! I've done everything I could to make him happy!

Don't I deserve something?

Don't I deserve to live?

I mean shit, I even had to sneak out to come here. If I wasn't working in the bar or at the ring, I was supposed to be home.

I felt like his fucking dog, expected to obey and sit silently, awaiting my next order.

Turning left up twenty-third street, the force of a shoulder crashed into my arm. Looking up, my eyes shot open, jaw hanging freely.

There stood Nico, with a crooked smile slinking up his cheek. His greasy hair was loose, with nappy strands dangled between his eyes. “Well, look who it is.” His raspy voice turned my stomach.

I wanted to bolt in the other direction. I didn't even enjoy inhaling the air between us. “Yeah. Look who, and look who's still going.” Lengthening my leg, I attempted to keep my pace.

A mangled hand stretched out, gripping my upper arm. “Whoa... Where is your little friend?” he asked, glancing around behind me as if looking for someone.

Narrowing my eyes, my insides burned with hatred. “Don't touch me!” I snapped, yanking myself from his fingers. “Good bye, Nico.” Rolling my eyes, I shifted away.

“Quinn, where's Quinn? I understand you guys have gotten close, does daddy know about that?” Pitching his words, talking to me as if I was a child.

“What I do is none of your fucking business.” My hands clenched by my side, nails digging into my palms. I wanted to slap him, and watch his cheek burst with my hand print across it.

“Ooo, sassy little bitch, aren't you? I wonder what daddy would say if he heard his daughter talking to me like that.” A thin, slippery smile pulled up to his eyes.

“Go fuck yourself, Nico. Oh, wait... You already do that, because you're a dirty bastard who no woman would ever touch.” Staring at him with slitting lids, the muscles tensed across my shoulders.

A soft bell jingled from my purse.
That's probably Mia, wondering where I am.
Glancing at the bag hanging close to my shoulder, the bell sounded again.

His beady eyes glared at me, grin turning down, lip twisting with anger. “Maybe, I should just make a trip to tell your dad right now that you guys had a little play date the other day.” A cold sweat trickled over my ribs, tongue sticking to the back of my throat. “Yeah, that's right. I watched him come strolling out of your place. So, tell me, Cadence, do you think the way he fucked you was worth it?”

Cocking my hand back, it flew forward. The loud smack whipped off his skin. I couldn't stop myself, it happened before I even had time think about it. The sting radiated up my arm.

Nico's face was hard, his head barely twitched from my slap, like a bull being blind sided by a bird. His eyes popped open, brows dipping angrily, as his hands balled tightly by his sides.

Bringing his hand up swiftly, I winced on impulse. Reaching for his cheek, he rubbed the flushing area.

If we had been any where else other than this street, I think he would have struck back. I hardly expected he was the type of guy who would hold the standard- Men don't hit women- But, here, out in the open, with hoardes of people eyeing us now, he knew better.

“Bitch.” Was the only word he mustered out.

I wanted to hit him again, it felt good. I've wanted to do that for a long time. I hated the way he talked down to me all the time, treated me like a piece of shit, just because he knew he was my father's top fighter.

“You had that coming, asshole.” Noting the bruising still reflecting under his eyes, a twinkle of delight filled my tone. “Nice eye make up you got there.”