Jack & Coke (The Uncertain Saints Book 2) (17 page)

“No official. First one to pass out loses,” I told him, causing him to blink in surprise.

“Okay,” Adam agreed a little too eagerly.

That was a second stupid thing he’d done.

Adam was pretty smart, but he let his emotions get the best of him.

I knew he was excited to fight me.

He wasn’t, however, excited to know we were only going one round.

“How is that going to accomplish anything?” Adam asked in confusion.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to let you get a good 20 seconds in before I knock you out,”
I taunted.

He narrowed his eyes on me, and I heard an amused chuckle from behind me.

Casten.

He knew this would be my fight.

I would control every aspect of it.

Adam would be along for the ride, so to speak.

“Fine,” Adam said, holding out his hands.

I punched them, taking a deep breath, before I launched right in to my attack.

See, that’s the thing about me.

People, or other fighters, expected a big man like me to be slow.

I probably had fifty pounds on Adam.

Normally, we’d be in different weight classes, but I knew Adam could take a punch.

He’d been trained by Casten.

But he’d never had to fight for his life.

Deep down, Adam was basically a good guy, he just needed to learn to control his mouth better.

And to stay away from my woman,
I thought darkly.

I switched off those thoughts and cast my mind back to a place it hadn’t been in well over ten years—since that last summer when I was twenty and spent a week with my father.

It’d also been the very last lesson he’d ever given me.

And I remembered every single bit of it.

I’d taken that knowledge into the Air Force with me.

I’d honed my body into the machine that my father had started sculpting, and I’d only gotten bigger, stronger and more solid since.

Something I was about to prove to Adam.

See, the real reason I wouldn’t spar with Adam wasn’t because I didn’t want to—it was because I
did
.

In a few minutes, every man here would learn who was the real fighter in the room.

But it was never good to reveal your hand too early, because if you ever had to use the skills that I possessed, then you weren’t in a good place.

If Adam knew how good I was he’d bug me incessantly until I helped to train him.

Adam was a good fighter, and part of the reason why was that he was not only religious about his training, but he also had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge about the sport.

He wanted to better himself, and the only way to do that, he had to fight someone better than him.

Adam swung his left fist, pulling it at the last second so it glanced off my jaw instead of taking me at the temple.

I smiled.

He’d have never connected, but he didn’t know that.

Rule Number One of Konn Fight School: Don’t pull your punches.

You fight to survive. You do what you have to do to get your opponent down on the ground, and you don’t stick around to see how he fared.

I retaliated with a right hook to Adam’s lower belly, causing him to lean forward slightly.

“Guard!” Casten bellowed.

I wanted to laugh.

Adam wouldn’t be fast enough. Nice try, though, coach.

Instead of hitting him with the fist to the face that he would be expecting, I swept my right foot out, and tripped him.

Adam stumbled but didn’t go down.

But it was enough to get him off balance, and I used that to my advantage.

The next five minutes I used to show him just how important it was to guard.

I bobbed, swooped, ducked, jabbed and just generally beat the crap out of Adam.

Not enough to knock him out, but he did start losing steam.

Fast.

He was good, I’d give him that. But he wasn’t at my level, and it was likely that he never would be.

I wasn’t being conceited, it was just obvious that I was better than him.

Adam was definitely good, but I’d just had more…
experience
. My skills were ingrained in me from years of my father’s lessons, my time in the military and now the DEA.

You can learn the motions, use them, and live by them.

But you’re not a killer until you’ve watched the life drain out of another human being’s eyes.

Knowing that you were responsible for putting that look there.

And when I fought, I was willing to kill if I had to.

Adam, however, wasn’t.

He was moving inefficiently, exhausting himself and just going through the motions now.

Something I saw him realize just seconds later.

“You’re just playing with me, aren’t you?” He breathed through a gasping breath.

I grinned.

“You wanted it, you got it.”

He swung a slow punch at my kidney, and I blocked and turned, bringing his back to my front without effort.

I could see the moment he realized he was defeated.

But instead of knocking him out, I followed the move up with a nerve strike to his neck, bringing him down to his knees.

Although he’d be awake and aware, he wouldn’t be able to move his legs properly for about a half-hour or so.

“Win,” I said to him.

He hung his head.

“Win,” he confirmed.

The gym was silent as I walked out of the ring to my belongings.

Without a word I dressed, only stopping to grab my gun from Casten before I was out the door and heading to work since it was probably the best place for me right now.

At least until I shook off this noxious attitude and was able to talk to Annie with some semblance of control.

There’s a fine line to how much stupidity I can take before it exceeds the limit of my medication. And unfortunately for you, you just crossed it.

-Mig to a perp

Annie

I don’t know what I expected of Mig when I walked into my house later that evening.

But it wasn’t the man I got.

“Have you had dinner yet?” I asked softly, eying the way he lounged on the couch with a wariness that didn’t bode well for our evening.

“No,” he rumbled low in his throat.

I swallowed thickly, very aware of the way he was looking at me like
I
was dinner.

“I’m making steak and mashed potatoes. It’s all I have
.”

I’d been meaning to go to the store for the past couple of days, but I’d been avoiding it since I knew that it would inevitably turn into an errand for Jennifer.

And I wasn’t buying her groceries. There was only so much waiting on and catering to her that I could stomach, and I had surpassed my limit now.

She was totally taking advantage of us and milking her situation for all it was worth.

So, Jennifer could suck it.

And I would’ve almost believed that I would do anything for her if she truly needed it, because I couldn’t stop thinking about the innocent life she was carrying.

The baby who had no say in who her parents were or how they behaved.

Suddenly, it all became so very real.

What was I to Mig?

Was I supposed to be his girlfriend?

Could I be the kind of girlfriend who takes care of her man’s baby from another woman?

What if I wanted kids of my own?

“Mig?” I asked, shutting the fridge softly and turning around.

He looked up from the couch, and it was then I saw the shiner on his eye.

“What happened to your face?” I
asked in alarm.

He grinned.

“Just a little bit of release. You got me all riled up, and I didn’t want to take it out on you when I got here, so I burned it all off at the gym,” he mumbled, returning his gaze to the TV.

That move clearly shut down any further questioning about the shiner, so I decided to broach the other topic.

“What are you going to do once the baby gets here?” I asked softly.

He shrugged.

“I figured I’d take him with me to work when I could. When I can’t, I’ll take the baby to daycare,” he mumbled, not bothering to look away from the screen.

I blinked.

Then walked around the couch to sit on the coffee table, effectively cutting off his view of the TV.

“Mig,” I hesitated when his eyes finally met mine. His eye looked awful. “A baby can’t go to daycare until they’re at least six weeks old.”

His brows furrowed.

“Since when?” He asked.

I snorted.

“Since always,” I challenged.

He dropped the TV changer onto the couch beside him, then lifted his arms to work his hands into his hair.

“I never really thought about it, I guess. I’d always thought Jennifer would be there to take care of the baby. Since she went on bed rest, I’ve done a lot of avoiding, rather than thinking,
about the consequences of taking the baby from Jennifer.” He looked at me finally
. “I haven’t even told my family. They never even knew I was married.”

My brows rose, and I stood up, offering him my hand.

“Then let’s go tell them,” I said. “But first we need to make a quick stop. I need to pick up a few things.”

He stopped me before I could get more than two steps away from him.

“My family lives nearly ten hours from here,” he told me.

I blinked, then took a seat back where I was sitting before.

“Well then, maybe we should plan that for this weekend, eh?” I teased.

He didn’t smile.

“When were you going to tell me you’ve lost customers because of Cornell?” He growled.

My eyes widened.

“How do you know that?” I asked warily.

I’d never seen Mig like this.

Never seen him quite so…aggressive.

It wasn’t to say that I didn’t find him hot, because he was.

But I’d also never seen him so pissed off at me before.

I hadn’t done anything!

He had enough on his plate dealing with Jennifer to take on something this petty. It was just a couple of clients!

“Annie,” Mig sat up on the couch.

This put my legs in between his, and his face only inches from mine.

And suddenly I was not thinking about my business anymore.

I was thinking about how good he smelled.

I thought it might be his deodorant, because I’d never seen him put on anything other than that since he moved into my house.

Every morning his routine was the same.

Get up before the sun even rose. Go for a run. Eat some oatmeal. Shower. If I was awake, he’d fuck me, and if I wasn’t, he’d just get dressed. And he always gave me a kiss before he left for the day.

And during those times that I did get used thoroughly, he’d get dressed while I watched, barely able to move.

He always slipped his underwear on first, followed by his pants, socks, shoes, shirt and then lastly he’d swipe on some deodorant.

I never once saw him put any cologne on.

So there I was, contemplating making his deodorant into a candle when he grabbed my face.

“Are you even listening to me?” He asked sharply.

My lips were smashed together, and I looked at him while I spoke in what sounded mostly like gibberish through my squashed lips.

“Oo mell ood,” I told him.

He eased up on my face, cupping my ears instead, and asked, “What?”

“I said you smell good,” I repeated.

He blinked.

“What?”

“You.” I poked him with accusation.
“Smell.” Poke
. “Good.”

His lips twitched.

“So we’re done talking about your customers?” He asked.

I shrugged. “There’s not really much to say here. Liam Cornwell is bad mouthing me around town. My business has slowed down, yes, but not enough to where I’m worried yet. I’ve lost maybe six clients total. But I’ve already replaced those six clients with new ones, so it’s all good.”

“How do you know it’s Liam?” He asked curiously.

“My clients called and told me,” I explained.

He nodded, lifting both of his roughened hands to run them down his handsome face.

“I’m looking for him, I swear,” he said, finally lifting his head and pinning me with his gaze. “He won’t be able to do this much longer. He’s burning through his resources fast, and it’s only a matter of time before he gets cocky and fucks up.”

I leaned forward until my head was resting on his shoulder.

His shoulder was like a ball of solid muscle.

It felt like I was resting my forehead against a rock.

A very sexy rock, but a rock nonetheless.

“I’m not worried, Mig. I know you’ll take care of this,” I whispered.

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his warm embrace.

“You don’t deserve to deal with this shit,” he muttered.

I tipped my head back until my boobs were resting on his forearms.

“Mig, shit happens in life, and we deal. This isn’t anyone but Liam Connell’s fault, so stop blaming yourself.” I informed him.

He grinned, his straight white teeth standing out starkly against his tanned face.

His shaved hair looked a little better today than it had the day before, and I wanted to rub my hands all along the top of his head.

I refrained, though.

Barely.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” he muttered, his gaze moving down to my lips.

I parted them slightly, and nearly laughed when he inhaled sharply.

“I’m hungry,” he lied.

“Yeah?” I asked, leaning forward until my mouth was only millimeters from his.

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

Then his lips were on mine.

Our hands tangled as we each reached for the other’s shirt.

His was first, followed immediately by mine.

Next to go was my bra. His pants. My shoes. His underwear. And finally my pants and underwear, all in one fell swoop.

He pulled me onto his lap, the shaft of his hard cock nestled in the seam of my pussy, as we both started to slowly move our hips.

My breasts were pressed tight to his chest, the fine hairs tickling my nipples and stimulating them.

“You’re almost as good as dinner, I suppose,” he rumbled, his hand going to my hair to expose my throat fully to him.