The Harder He Falls: 2 (So Inked) (9 page)

“I thought he was getting rid of the stuff.”

“He’s ‘working on it’. Whatever that means. I get that the equipment is sentimental, but all the merch can go. It’s doing nothing for him except taking up space. And if he wants to keep the guys’ stuff, display it. Don’t leave it packed up.” Judging by the impassioned speech, this was a topic Pandora had talked about more than once.

“He should sell that stuff. I’d bet the Sucker Punch Sunday fan clubs would go nuts over it.”

“Brian had me email them. They want to take some and sell to their members. He can get rid of it. He’s just dragging his feet. And I wish I could be pissed off about it, but I get why it’s hard to purge.”

Kellie’s mouth screwed up on one side. “Yeah, but it’s just stuff. I saw the crazy crap load he’s hanging on to and I get it. The instruments, old merch and stuff that has memories associated with it, that I get. But the rest of it? It’s junk. I mean, you said you found boxes of Dr Pepper cans and chip bags. That’s not sentimental. That’s hoarding. I’m all for honoring the memory of our ancestors and friends who have passed, but he needs to move on.”

Pandora rubbed her face, agony twisting her features into a pained mask. “It sucks. He’ll get over it, but it seriously sucks and I don’t want to move into that.”

“He cares for you,” Mary said, finally breaking into the conversation though she’d been watching it, following the progression as if she were an observer at a tennis match.

The corners of Pandora’s mouth turned up and a flicker of warmth blossomed in her gaze. “Yeah,” she said quietly, twirling her hair around her fingers. She glanced at Kellie and her eyes narrowed. “So what about you? You seem awfully chill today.”

“What?” Kellie released her grip on the armrests and swung her chair back and forth, but she’d already been caught.

Pandora’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

“She’s right.” Mary leaned on the desk and propped her chin up. “What gives?”

She glared at her coworkers. “What makes you think I’m going to tell you?”

“Who else are you going to tell?” Pandora countered.

“I hooked up with a guy after the party on Monday.” She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. “It’s not a big deal.”

Mary said something in rapid-fire Spanish, while Pandora’s eyes grew large and round.

“Whatever.” Kellie jabbed her finger at the other two. “Don’t act like you haven’t done it. I’ve heard your stories.” It was the best sixty bucks she’d spent in a while. Granted, she was probably charged for the picture they’d broken, but Quin had been worth it.

Mary snorted. “It’s about time. You’ve been wound too tight.”

“Who was it?” Pandora propped her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. “Anyone we know?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. He was a client Sunday.” She managed to say it all without choking too. It wasn’t the most professional thing she’d ever done, but she’d live.

“The guy from Sunday? The one you wanted to feed him his own balls?” Mary smirked and shook her head.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

Mary shrugged. “I like him. You could do worse. I have.”

“Thanks for your approval.” The quip left her lips easily, but Mary’s statement stuck with her. Her best friend was slow to warm up to people, and she already liked Quin? Had she seen something in him Kellie had missed?

Pandora lifted her shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with it. And hell, I have no room to point fingers. You ran interference for me.”

“That guy was a piece of work too.” Kellie shook her head as she recalled a college swimmer Pandora entangled herself with before learning of his stalker tendencies.

“You’re going to see him again. Is this going to be awkward?” Mary asked.

Leave it to Mary to say exactly the thing that was bothering her. Kellie sighed and crossed her leg over her knee. “I don’t think it will be awkward. We agreed that it was just sex.”

Pandora leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees, her chin perched on her hands. “How did this happen? Was he getting a tattoo and you thought, why not?”

She glanced at Pandora. “Um, no, nothing like that. I did his line work before he had to leave, then came back for his phone and the party. After we closed up, he and I grabbed tacos from the truck down the street and got a room.”

“Romance isn’t dead. You know how to woo a boy,” Mary scoffed.

“As much as I would love to sit and talk roses and shit with you hussies, I have work to do.” Kellie pushed to her feet and stretched. “Is Sam doing inventory, or are we doing that ourselves?”

Mary replied with a venomous note, “Sam is here to work.”

Geisha—In Japanese it means “person of the arts,” and often these artistic, beautiful women symbolize mystery with their painted faces that hide their secrets. Red is often a color associated with these figures.

Quin held the bag for Mouse, bracing under the rain of blows.

“Come on, Mouse, hit it like you mean it.”

Mouse grunted and blew breaths out of his mouth, his gaze trained on the bag.

“Don’t drop your guard. Don’t be lazy.”

In answer, Mouse corrected his stance and laid into the bag with more force. Quin counted down in his head. They’d been going for almost two solid hours, and this was Mouse’s second session of the day. There was a lot of training to do over the next two weeks before what he hoped would be the first fight that would truly establish his gym in the MMA world. It sucked that it all depended on Mouse doing well. The sad truth was that the other fighters he was working with just weren’t ready.

“Good. Go cool down, man.” Quin slapped a hand on Mouse’s shoulder and instantly regretted it. Sweat and grit from the mile jog up and down the street coated Mouse’s arms. Quin grimaced as he turned and wiped the palm on his shorts.

“See ya, Coach,” Mouse got out between pants. He plodded off to the water fountain, looking worse for wear today. They needed to amp up his stamina training.

“Hey, Coach, got a moment?”

He looked up at Jacob, one of the rare members turned fighter who had transferred from the old gym. Quin was thankful for the handful of people like Jacob who supported him.

“What’s going on?”

Jacob glanced around them, his usually impassive face tense and his eyes narrowed.

“Do you want to step into my office?” He gestured toward the other side of the gym.

“No, I just wanted to tell you that Greg Redding was talking to some of the guys during lunch. It was over Twitter, and it was dumb, but I thought you should know.”

Red hazed Quin’s vision and he clenched his fists. He’d brought most of his fighters to Texas and put them up in a house he’d renovated. While he didn’t expect them to jump ship to Greg’s gym any time soon, if Mouse didn’t do well for them, if they didn’t win some bouts, the guys would have no reason to stay with him. Pivoting, he landed a punch into the bag Mouse had whaled on minutes before.

“Fuck,” he growled out, putting his hands on his hips. “Thanks for telling me.”

“That’s not all.”

Quin briefly closed his eyes. “Give it to me.”

Jacob darted a look at Mouse, who was spotting one of the younger guys at the bench press. “I don’t like telling you this. I don’t want to be a snitch, but I think you should know. Greg called Mouse to try to talk him into going back. Said he’d make it worth his while. Mouse was bragging about it.”

Quin sighed and rolled his shoulders. The news about Mouse didn’t surprise him. He was a diva of a fighter but a good guy. Quin didn’t believe Mouse would leave him this close to a fight. There was also a lot of bad blood between Greg and Mouse. Plus, he was living at Quin’s fighter house, so the logistics were currently in his favor. Greg didn’t put his guys up like Quin did.

“Thanks. There’s not a lot I can do about Greg, but it’s good to know it’s happening. I won’t mention you told me if I need to address it.”

“Awesome.” Jacob’s shoulders dropped and he relaxed. “You don’t think Greg could be responsible for the locker room, do you?”

Quin paused, rolling the thought around in his mind. “I can’t say, but maybe.”

Jacob shook his head. “Makes me wonder if he’s part of it somehow.”

Quin shrugged and stretched, lifting his arms above his head. “Shit if I know.”

“You got a new tattoo?”

Belatedly, he realized his mistake. “Yeah, it’s just the outline right now.”

“That’s Kellie Nahm’s.” Jacob didn’t ask—one look and the flint edge was back in his gaze. It was the look that told Quin that in the next few years, the twenty-year-old kid would be a terror of a fighter.

“Yes it is. She does good work.” He flexed his arm and glanced down at the lines wrapped around his arm.

“Does she know who you are?”

“She knows who I am, but does she know I own the gym? No.” The omission curdled his stomach. He hadn’t set out to keep the information from her; it just hadn’t come up. Or more correctly, he didn’t want to tell her.

“That’s not a good way to get her support. Not that I’m anyone to tell you how to do things, but I know Kellie and her family.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got everything under control.”

Jacob stared at him a moment longer before breaking eye contact first. The kid was good but he hadn’t been tempered enough yet.

“Why don’t you go work with the guys on the floor? Watch those takedowns, you need to work on your footwork.”

He waited for Jacob to nod and move off to join the other guys still working out. They had about an hour left before he would close up the gym, and after Jacob’s revelation, Quin was running on empty. Between dealing with the cops, normal gym stuff and trying to figure out how to smooth things over with Penny, he needed some time to relax.

When he set out to start the gym and coaching on his own, he knew it would be work. But lately it was one thing after another, and he needed a respite. He sank into his desk chair, reached over to scratch his arm and stopped just in time. He patted the new lines on his skin instead. He’d stocked his desk drawer with some unscented, non-colored lotion and pulled that out to slather over the tattoo for good measure. After a week it was looking pretty good.

Looking at the tattoo made him think of the artist. His experience with Kellie was memorable. He’d redeemed himself from his sowing wild oats days in the Marines, but he was still a man. She’d said they should consider what they had an arrangement, but he hadn’t taken her up on it and neither had she. Still, he was curious about her.

He fished his phone out from the drawer and unlocked the keypad, ignoring the messages waiting in favor of pulling up Kellie’s number and typing out a quick text.

What are you up to?

He didn’t know if she would reply or not, but it was worth a shot.

He made himself put the phone down and wake up the computer. One message caught his eye. He double-clicked it and scrolled down to an image drawn in crayon. Stick figures danced around each other in a circle. An arrow pointed to one and proclaimed it “Daddy!”

Penny had taken Josephine to her in-laws for the weekend. The tentative plan was to meet up with them tomorrow night when they got back. It would be awkward as hell with Penny’s panties still in a twist, but he wasn’t an absent father. Their argument wouldn’t keep him from dropping by to see his kid.

The phone at his elbow vibrated. Optimistic, he grabbed it and brought up the messages, bypassing the ones from the fighters and other people he didn’t want to talk to right now.

Is this a booty call text?

He sputtered and laughed, hearing her dry delivery in his head.

No. Do you want it to be?

He wanted her again, but he wouldn’t call her for sex. Blood rushed to his dick at the memory of her strength and the way she’d matched him in bed when they’d tussled.

I don’t have patience for you to be an asshat. Yes or no.

He drummed his finger on the desk.

Depends. Don’t mean to be nosey, but have you been tested recently?

I work around blood and needles. Regularly, like clockwork. And I’m on the Pill.

Okay. My place? 10:30?

He tapped out directions and sent those as well. The sleazy hotel wouldn’t be happening again. He could at least give the woman a bed with clean sheets that was guaranteed free of bedbugs. He distracted himself from waiting for her confirmation by checking his other messages.

The message notification buzzed again. His pulse kicked up a notch as he accessed the conversation with Kellie. Her reply made him grin.

* * * * *

Kellie slid out of her Cube and squinted at the house. She double-checked the number against the text Quin had sent.

Though she hadn’t known what to expect, she hadn’t been expecting this. The house was located in a moderately nice suburb, but the house itself wasn’t what she would have called nice. The yard was packed dirt and the siding old and cracked. Even in the darkness she could tell the roof needed work. With a lot of TLC, the house could be stunning. It was a modest two-story ranch style with a wraparound porch that was missing the railing in a few places. Still, she wasn’t here to evaluate the man and his property for a long-term commitment; it was a matter of a few hours and mutual gratification.

She tugged at the hem of her kimono-style wrap, knowing she looked more like a porn star than anything else. A friend of hers from Chicago made them after a design Kellie had worked on with her. As thanks, the friend occasionally sent a few samples Kellie’s way. The garments were short, sexy and inappropriate to wear anywhere but to a club and bed. While Kellie was neither an exhibitionist nor a clubber, she still liked the dresses, and wore them when she could.

Light from a shuttered window illuminated the steps as she approached. And though she’d wondered about the stability based on the exterior, she was surprised to see that the wooden slats across the porch had been replaced, recently if the color and lack of paint were any indication.

The doorbell was a mass of wires with the ends wrapped in electrical tape, so she opted for knocking. While she waited, she turned to survey the view from the porch. It wasn’t bad. Located at the end of a cul-de-sac with trees to the back of the house, there was a measure of privacy and community.

The door swung inward and she turned.

“Hey.” Quin’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze traveling from her face down and lower still.

She chuckled and placed a hand on her hip, allowing him to look his fill.

“Done yet?” she asked when he started the journey all over again.

“Sorry. Come in.” He stepped back and held the door for her as she entered and paused to look around. “I should’ve warned you about the house. I flip properties when I can.”

Instead of a rundown interior that matched the exterior, it was stunning. From the foyer, she looked into the dining room on the right and a den on the left. Ahead of her, the hallway was partially obstructed by a set of stairs leading up and away. Warm, honey wood floors and neutral beige walls begged to be decorated, made into a home. Instead they were empty but neat and obviously recently updated.

“Looks like you’re almost done.” Kellie glanced at her phone, giving it one last check before abandoning it for a few hours. There was a text from Shin, but she wasn’t about to check that now. She dropped her keys into her purse and stepped out of her shoes, leaving both by the door.

“Don’t let this fool you. These were the easy rooms.” He reached for her hand and threaded their fingers together. There was an intensity in his gaze that awakened a hunger deep within her. “Damn, you look really hot, doll. Shit. Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It doesn’t bother me.”

Her gaze flicked over him, taking in the shorts and t-shirt without interest except for how they molded over his chest and hips. She pulled on his arm and stepped closer as he moved to do the same. They collided, chuckling, arms wrapping around each other.

“Call me doll.”

“I think I can do that, doll.”

Quin dug a hand into her hair and took her mouth. It was a rough, bruising kiss and she loved it. Kellie dug her fingers into his shoulders, relishing the way his muscles moved under her touch. If another man had tried to kiss her as he did, she would kick his ass. But he’d won her respect, in a twisted kind of way, and she reveled in the fleeting sensation of being overpowered.

“That’s a better hello,” he said against her lips.

“I like the second version better too.”

She curled her arms around his neck and pressed another kiss to his mouth. One of his hands settled low on her back and he pulled her against the bulge in his shorts. She leaned into him harder and rubbed her thigh against him. Quin groaned and squeezed her hip.

“Fuck. Excuse my language.”

She laughed. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

He stepped away from her and took her hand again. “Hey, I’m supposed to be a gentleman here. Let me give you the grand tour.”

“And let me guess, it ends in the bedroom?”

The grin that spread across his features was salacious, all naughty invitation and daring. “Where do you want it to end?”

“Surprise me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

He led her down the hall that ran between the dining room and the den into an open space that was both an open kitchen and living room lit by a flood lamp clamped to a pole. The kitchen had been dissected, the cabinets ripped out, flooring half in, drywall gone in places. New appliances sat like islands in the middle of what would be an open country kitchen. The flooring was half installed, drywall was missing from one side of the living room, and at least one window needed to be replaced, judging from the cracks.