Adrian's Wrath (3 page)

Just thinking of Cameron left a bad taste in her mouth and had her stomach in knots. Even though he was so sure she would be back, she hadn’t been. After the last time he had laid his hands on her, had forced her onto that bed, she had made her mind up that she would leave and never look back. She couldn’t if she had any hope of surviving.

With the wad of cash in her hand she opened the freezer and shoved the frozen veggies and TV dinners out of the way. She grabbed the frosty can of generic coffee and popped the lid off. Inside she pulled out the plastic bag of coffee grounds and set it on the counter. Maybe it wasn’t the best hiding spot, but it was close if she needed it. Shoving the cash at the bottom of the can with the rest of the tips she had earned, she placed the coffee back in and shoved the can in the back of the freezer. The next thing she did, partly out of habit, but mainly out of survival, was walk back out to the front hallway and pull the duffle bag stored beneath the wooden bench out. Inside she double-checked all her necessary supplies she would need in case she had to make a quick getaway. Extra clothes and shoes, toiletries, a little bit of cash that she didn’t keep in the freezer in case she couldn’t get to it, important documents, and the one thing that might be the only thing that saved her life. A Colt .45 that her father had given her before he passed away.

She held the revolver in her palm, the weight substantial. The ivory handle was worn, but when the light hit it there was still a slight shine to it. The metal was cold, but she knew if she continued to hold it long enough it would warm her flesh. It never failed. Whenever she held this gun she instantly felt safer. Why she hadn’t used it on Cameron all those times he hit her, all those times he threatened her, was still lost on her. She could blame the fear he inflicted on her, but she knew deep down she was a coward. That was until this last time. She knew she would never be afraid to use it on him again.

Opening the chamber, Brea checked to make sure the bullets were ready to go. Checking her duffle every night might have seemed repetitive to others, but this was Brea’s life, and she needed to make sure everything was in order in case Cameron did find her, which she didn’t doubt he would. He always found her.

Before heading into her room for the night, she made sure the doors were locked, the alarm system was in fact engaged, and her car keys were easy to reach. She was tired, mentally and physically. Honestly, she had no idea how much longer she could go through this. Constantly looking over her shoulder had her perpetually on edge and never at rest.

“Just a little bit longer and I can finally be free.” She knew if she left the country she would have a better chance of finally being free of Cameron. At least she was smart enough this time to actually change her last name.

After a shower so hot she felt like her skin would peel off, Brea wrapped a towel around her body and ran her hand over the fogged-over mirror. The woman that stared back at her looked pathetic. Blue eyes that looked far too big on her face had dark circles underneath. Her blonde hair looked darker now that it was wet, but she knew even dry it was dull and lifeless. Just like her life now.

She slipped her pajamas on and turned off her bedroom light, bathing the room in darkness and shadows. The room she slept in was cold and dark, but it was hers, for the time being anyway. She stood there a moment, feeling her anxiety spike, but closing her eyes and counting to ten. It was a therapeutic exercise she had adopted years ago, and most of the time it helped her, but there were also times closing her eyes and trying to breathe through it just made it worse. She started to come down from the wave of panic that threatened to consume her. When her strength returned and she was able to open her eyes, she took in her surroundings. Double bed pushed against the wall with worn flowered wallpaper. The lone window in her room was covered in peeling, black-painted metal bars, another accessory that came with the house. She was okay with that. They added to her level of safety.

“You’re fine. You aren’t back there and he isn’t here.” Yeah, as long as she kept telling herself that everything would be all right. Brea laughed bitterly. If that wasn’t the biggest load of shit she had ever uttered.

* * * *

“Hey, Brea.”

Brea set the empty glass on the rubber mat on the bar and glanced up. Matt, the bartender on Thursday nights handed her two filled glasses of beer and smirked at her.

“You free Saturday?” She stifled the urge to roll her eyes at yet another one of Matt’s attempts to pick her up. If not for the fact she knew he slept with a different woman every single night, she might have humored the thought of taking note of how attractive he was. His shaggy brown hair hung across his forehead in the latest boy-band style and his whiskey-colored eyes rivaled their most expensive bottle of Jameson.

“Sorry, I am working.”

He looked mortally wounded as he placed his hand over his heart. “Shot down again.” He leaned forward on the bar and wagged his brows at her. “If I didn’t know for a fact you truly do work every fucking night I’d think you were purposefully avoiding me.”

She grabbed the two glasses and set them on her tray, not bothering to hide her smile. Matt was a flirt, but the teasing note in his voice was extremely addictive. “Don’t act like you can’t get any female in this place. In fact”—she turned around but looked over her shoulder—“I know you have.” She didn’t wait to hear his response, not that she would have been able to anyway given the fact the music was so loud her ears rang. She deposited the filled glasses to the customers and made a sweep, taking a few more orders and collecting more empties.

“Brea. Please come to my office.”

The voice in her ear was deep and authoritative. Brea adjusted the ear piece that connected every employee with the owner, Tate Wessen. Instantly her heart started to pound. There were only two reasons the boss called an employee into his office. He was either about to fire her or ask her to work underground. Both scared the shit out of her. Matt gave her a nod when she gestured she would be heading in the back to talk to Tate. She hadn’t been the only one to hear Tate’s deep command. Everyone working the floor had heard him. She couldn’t help how her legs slightly shook as she made her way through the thick sea of bodies and toward the steel side door. A big, burly bouncer stood in front of it, and at her arrival he gave a tight nod and let her pass. Once the door was shut behind her all sound from the club ceased. A long, brightly lit hallway stood before her along with another bouncer-guarded door. Once she was through that one as well and the steel closed behind her with a deafening click, she forced herself to breathe.

Tate’s office was just as intimidating as he was. Dark hardwood and brushed steel covered every square inch. Brea stayed close to the door, although she knew it was false security. Tate would let her leave when he wanted her to. She didn’t know why she felt so uneasy around him. He had been nothing but professional and nice to her, but underneath all of that she sensed something dangerous about him. It was the same thing she sensed inside of Cameron. And that scared the hell out of her.

“Brea.” Tate glanced up from the stack of papers scattered around his desk. He smiled almost warmly, but Brea wasn’t fooled. She had seen false security from Cameron way too many times to not know what it looked like. He might be one of the most attractive men she had ever seen, what with his short dark hair and amber-colored eyes, but Brea knew a dangerous man when she saw one. Tate was definitely one of those men.

“Please, have a seat.” He gestured toward the plush black leather chair in front of his steel-and-glass desk. When she was seated in front of him he laced his hands together on top of his desk and watched her. “You like it here, Brea?’

“Yes, sir.”

His grin widened and he leaned back in his chair, getting more comfortable. “Please, call me Tate.” Brea nodded but didn’t speak. “You’re one of my best workers. You get along with everyone and I’ve never had a complaint about you.”

Brea had no clue where this had come from. “Thank you, Tate.” She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She didn’t want to be put in any kind of spotlight. She wanted to go unnoticed. If people started paying attention to her that could cause her a lot of problems.

“You worked underground before, right?”

Instantly her heart beat a little faster and her palms started to sweat. “Yes, that’s right.” Throat gone as dry as the desert, Brea already knew what he was going to say. Hell, she had known it was one of two things before she had even set foot in his office.

“How would you like to work down there permanently?” She didn’t respond right away and he must have sensed her unease. “I know it’s a different crowd down there, but I’ll increase your pay and the tips are far better.”

Why was he choosing her? There were already waitresses that worked the underground. “I—” After her one night down there when she had freaked out, she assumed she would never be placed in the underground again. Man, had she been wrong.

“I’ve recently had some issues with a few of the girls down there”—he paused for a moment before continuing—“distracting the fighters. Those types of distractions tend to cost me money. I need employees that have good heads on their shoulders and can handle the pressure. I know there was a situation down there the last time you worked, but I was impressed that you sucked it up and finished your shift. That shows a lot of dedication, and that is something I admire, Brea.” Brea felt it was a genuine one this time. “You’ve already proven you have a good head on your shoulders and aren’t afraid of a little shit from the drunks. Not to mention you’re beautiful and will no doubt sell a lot of drinks.”

Brea couldn’t help it. She blushed. No one but Cameron had ever called her beautiful, and even when he did she never felt like he really meant it. Tate’s compliments were nice, but she was still leery. What the hell could she say? She knew if she refused it would be an insult to Tate, and Brea desperately needed this job.

“Your pay will double.”

Double?
She could leave this town even sooner. Could she stomach it though? She remembered all too well the crush of bodies, the deafening noise, the smell of sweat and blood. It was overwhelming, for sure, but all she could think about was the pay and escaping for good. Despite her fear and the remembrance of the last time she worked the underground still fresh in her mind, it was hard to pass up. She knew what she had to do.

“Yes, I’ll work the underground, Tate.” His approving smile made her stomach clench and she had no idea why.

Adrenaline pumped through Adrian’s veins. Eyes closed, he bounced on the balls of his feet and focused everything inside of him on the night ahead. The small room he currently occupied didn’t dull the roar of the crowd outside. He ran his hands over his short hair and breathed out. These fights never failed to pump him up. This was his outlet, his way of getting rid of all of his anger, his hatred. Even though he had an insurmountable amount of pent-up rage that would never be purged, he got a minimal amount of relief.

The sound of his knuckles cracking echoed in the cramped room. He rolled his head on his shoulders, feeling the excitement that these fights caused inside of him skyrocket. He was ready for this, had been ready. He wasn’t nervous. Hell, he was fucking pumped about smashing his fist into some guy’s face. Now what the hell did that say about him? The only real competition he had ever had was a dirty yet talented fighter named Kash Alexander. That boy sure knew how to throw a left hook, and if Adrian was being honest with himself, he didn’t even know if he would have won that fight, if it hadn’t been for the fact he heard Brea scream out. Even though the noise had been earsplitting, Kash might have given him a TKO.

No, he wasn’t going to think about Brea, a female so sweet and innocent that it made him feel like a worthless piece of shit. She reminded him so much of his Addie. Physically they were night and day, but they both had this aura around them that brought out every protective instinct in him. He wanted to wrap Brea up, protect her from the ugliness of the world, but he knew for both of their sakes he could never do that. Hell, he was part of the ugliness that covered this world.

“You ready, boss?” Mica, the newest and youngest fighter in training, stuck his head around the corner and grinned. He was a quiet kid with a mop full of ash-colored hair and blue eyes so fucking intense they didn’t look real. He might be one of the silent types, but boy could that kid kick some ass. He had a body like a swimmer, all lean muscle and stamina, and was faster than anyone Adrian had ever seen. He also knew how to throw a punch in the kidneys to make a man fall to his knees.

Adrian didn’t know why the kid insisted on calling him boss. A quick nod of his head and Adrian was following Mica out of the door and into the waiting makeshift octagon. His opponent was already waiting on him, and already Adrian could tell this guy was one tough motherfucker. He was also a beast. Adrian rolled his shoulders back and climbed the stairs. He could hear the announcer pumping up the crowed, but he didn’t pay any head to it. All his focus was on the fucker staring him down. He might have been big, but Adrian was bigger and had far more pent-up rage than this pussy.

They faced each other and everything else faded away. Adrian pictured Addie’s face, the way she had looked that last time he had seen her. He took a deep breath, pushing those memories away and thought of Brea. Her big blue eyes, promising a hell of a lot that he knew he couldn’t take. There were many times he wondered how it would play out if he just let himself move on and forget about Addie. It had been years, and although he still held love for her, he knew holding on to the memory of her was going to eventually kill him. There had been a time when he had wanted to die, but as the years passed things had slowly shifted, especially after he’d seen Brea looking so vulnerable. All he wanted to do was fight, to get out everything that was inside of him until he could live, a shell of a man. He wished for this, but even after all this time he wasn’t any closer to reaching his goal. He didn’t think he ever would be.