LUST: A Bad Boy and Amish Girl Romance (The Brody Bunch Book 2) (42 page)

M
orning came way too soon
, along with the realization that I was going to be majorly late.

Shit. I’m so stupid. I should’ve set an alarm on my phone. I should’ve left after we fucked that second time.
But I hadn’t been able to separate myself from Kellan, not just because he had such a tight hold on me, but because I was just so damn comfortable sleeping next to him. I really hadn’t wanted to go home.

But I definitely had to go to work, and definitely not in the outfit I’d worn the previous night out. So I’d dashed out Kellan’s door at seven thirty this morning after a quick kiss goodbye and rushed home to my apartment to change into something that wouldn’t earn me dirty looks from Melanie Cartwright—or Thom, for that matter.

And now I was stuck in traffic.
Shit.
It was eight fifteen, and I was supposed to be at work at eight o’clock sharp.

I’d called the office as soon as I’d known I was going to be late, but that didn’t matter. Melanie was a real stickler about punctuality, and I was undoubtedly in for an earful. Still, that wasn’t the reason my heart was racing or why butterflies had taken up residence in my stomach. That was all because Kellan’s kiss from this morning still lingered on my lips even now, and I really, honestly couldn’t wait to see him again.

This is so fucked up,
I thought, biting my nails as I sat in the turn lane for the street
The Spill
was on.
I stalked him to get a story, not to get fucked. And definitely not to start falling for the guy.

Was I being stupid? I certainly felt like it. I barely knew Kellan, and yet being with him felt so good, so right. I was probably making the biggest mistake of my life, and definitely the biggest mistake of my career. Melanie was going to be so pissed if I came away from this empty-handed. I had to find a way to get the most out of a budding relationship as well as my job.

Balancing those two worlds would be easier said than done. I hadn’t even told Kellan that I was a reporter yet. When was I going to drop
that
bomb?

And how would he react when I did? He seemed to have some serious trust issues, and I got the feeling he didn’t let his guard down easily. In fact, I’d seen just how hostile and walled-off he could be. The longer I lied to him, the worse it was going to get. I had to tell him soon. Maybe he’d even be okay with helping me out with my story, once he’d calmed down.

Girl, if Melanie could see you now, she’d be so disappointed in you.

I parked out in front and hurried up to the sixth floor. Thom was waiting for me at my desk with a coffee and a huge grin on his stupid, smug face. At least the coffee had my name on it.

“Good morning, sunshine!” he said so loud the whole office turned to look at us. I cringed and glared at him, and he lowered his voice as I got closer. “Welcome to the end of your walk of shame.”

I grabbed the coffee from him and threw it back, letting it burn all the way down my throat. I was still a little groggy and exhausted after everything I’d been through last night. All of it, every second, had been such a rush.

“So, how was it?” Thom asked, perching on the corner of my desk. I pushed his legs aside so I could sit in my chair and turn my computer on. “You know… the sex.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on. Do you really think I’d have sex with him, Thom? He’s a source, and I’m a professional. There are boundaries we just shouldn’t cross.”

“Bullshit. You’re glowing. Unless you’re pregnant, and then that would explain everything, Little Miss Attitude.” Thom eyed me suspiciously. “The big, bad fighter didn’t actually knock you up, did he? I mean, you two used protection, right?”

I couldn’t hide my smirk this time. “We were safe, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So you
did
screw.”

“Give me a break, Thom,” I said, opening up my e-mail. “You already knew that.”

“I know something else, too. Two things, really. One of which is going to make your day.”

No e-mails from Melanie. That was strange. I’d only been late to work one other time since starting here, but that morning, I’d found waiting in my inbox a message telling me to see her in her office. The way she’d chewed me out was epic. Not once had she raised her voice, and yet she’d almost made me cry all the same. It was like when one of your parents was disappointed in you, rather than outright angry. It always made you feel worse than you would have if they’d just screamed at you.

I’d never felt so small in all my life as I had on that day, and I’d been anticipating the same emotion now. When it didn’t come, I was confused.

I looked up at Thom. “Okay. Shoot.”

“Firstly,” Thom said, crossing one leg over the other, “Melanie’s out sick. She was at the grand opening of some new sushi place last night, and everyone got food poisoning. She texted me she’s going to sue. I can’t wait to read
The Spill’s
review of this one.”

I grinned, not because Melanie was sick, but because I was off the hook.
Thank God.
“You bastard. You could have told me before I spent all this time thinking I was going to lose my job—or worse, that Melanie would let me keep my job, but give me all the shit stories as an example to others. But you’re right. That does make my day, though I hope she gets better soon. What’s the second thing?”

Thom smiled. “The second thing is that, after you left with your new boy toy last night, I did some digging on the ring we ended up at. Specifically, one of the managers, Victor Dallas. He’s the one who manages ‘Killer Kellan,’ along with a few others. Guy’s a major dick, Parker. Did a stint about a decade ago for fraud. A regular conman. And now he’s taking advantage of guys like your boyfriend, taking them in off the streets, cleaning them up, and turning them into cash cows while pocketing a hefty ‘manager’s fee’ the fighters don’t even know about.”

I remembered Thom having mentioned that a lot of managers were shady back when we’d talked about this before. But knowing that Kellan was getting taken advantage of for sure had me furious. “Goddammit. Okay, what do we do?”

“I want to take him down,” Thom said. “I hate guys like this. I want to run an exposé on the damage these kinds of operations do, and not just the physical kind. They keep their fighters in poverty, one way or another, to ensure they have to come back and fight just to survive. And the longer they’re working for guys like Vic, the less work experience they have to put on a résumé, which means they run a very real risk of never finding a legitimate job again. Not one that pays what they need to make a real living, anyway.”

“A vicious cycle,” I mused. “They can never get out. Not without a windfall or a miracle.” I looked up at Thom. “How can I help?”

“Well, it’d be a real boon to have Kellan on board, for starters,” he said.

I grimaced. “That might be a problem. He doesn’t even know I’m a reporter.”

“You were planning on telling him, right?” Thom asked. I nodded, and he shrugged. “So do it right before a blowjob. It’ll soften the blow—so to speak.”

“This guy’s intense, Thom,” I said. “I don’t think a blowjob will heal all wounds, in this case.”
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
I should’ve just told Kellan from the start who and what I was. Melanie Cartwright’s philosophy on life had me all paranoid and making things way more complicated than they needed to be. “I’ll give it a shot, though, okay? In the meantime, I’m going to try the senator again. That’s a pretty big piece of the puzzle—getting him to support, and hopefully pass, this bill will make it way harder for guys like Victor to prey on guys like Kellan.”

“Sounds good,” Thom said, hopping down off my desk. “We’re in this together, Parker. Remember that. If you need help, I’m here.”

I nodded. That was another fact that flew in the face of Melanie’s theories: Thom and I had a genuine friendship that was personal as well as professional. He wouldn’t backstab me, and even though he had way more experience and clout than I did, he was willing to help me with whatever I needed. And he didn’t treat me like I owed him for it, either. Thom was good people, and living proof that you didn’t have to be a Grade-A asshole to get ahead in this business.

If you’d acted more like Thom from the beginning, you wouldn’t be in this mess with Kellan,
I reminded myself.
Listening to Melanie Cartwright has got you in big trouble so far.

My conscience was right. Melanie may have had to step on more than a few toes to get to the top, but that didn’t mean everyone had to. And honestly, even though she was
very
successful, she was also very lonely. She didn’t have anyone in her life like Thom. No friends. No husband. No real family to speak of at all. The acquaintances she knew were just as ruthless as she was. For me, that was no way to live. I should have realized it sooner.

I don’t want to be so cold that I freeze out everyone around me.
I wanted the warmth I’d felt last night with Kellan. God, I’d felt so safe, so guarded in his arms. And he’d held me like that all night, so when I woke up, the first thing I felt was his embrace.

It was the best night of my life. I’d never slept so soundly. And despite all the anxiety I’d felt on my way here today, I’d never felt happier, either. Was it too late to fix this? Had I irrevocably messed everything up?

The only way to find out was to come clean, and hope that Kellan could forgive me. Things might go a little smoother, though, if I had some good news on my side. It was a long shot, but I was going to have to get back up on that horse.

Thom waved as he walked back to his desk, and I returned the gesture with a smile. Then I picked up the phone and dialed Senator MacFarlane’s number for the millionth time since I started work on this story, and just like every other time, I got his secretary and was promptly transferred to his voicemail.

I sighed just before the beep. “Senator MacFarlane, this is Parker Jones from
The Spill.
I’m leaving you another message regarding the upcoming proposed bill that would ensure job preference for veterans who’ve returned home from overseas tours. It’s imperative that I speak with you at your earliest convenience—no, forget that,” I said, taking a risk and going off script, “it’s absolutely crucial that we talk about this. There are too many good men and women whose livelihoods depend on you making the right choice here, and dammit, if nobody else is going to push you in the right direction, I sure as hell am. So call me back, or the next thing I’ll do is camp out in front of your office door. You’ve got to come to work sometime, even if you
are
a senator.”

When I hung up the phone, I felt better than I had in a long time. Chances were slim to none that the senator was actually going to call me back after that—and if Melanie had come to work today, I wouldn’t have dreamt of doing it—but it had to be done. He’d been ducking me for weeks, anyway, so it wasn’t like my tirade would change much.

I sat back in my chair and contemplated my options for the future. Taking Victor Dallas down would do Kellan a world of good, in the long run, but what about the immediate effects? He’d be out of a job. Obviously I would help him, if he’d accept it, until he found something sustainable, but wouldn’t he resent me? Wouldn’t he always see me as the girl who shot first and asked questions later without thinking about the consequences?

I couldn’t let this go on, though. I couldn’t let Kellan keep living a lie. He deserved so much more than that. I just hoped he saw things my way and that I wasn’t about to destroy the one good thing I had going for me right now.

M
y next fight
came
way
sooner than I’d expected. Vic kept his word and I didn’t have to hit the mat until Monday night, several days after our phone call, but man, time flew by when all I could think about was seeing Parker.

She hadn’t been able to come over during the week—she was working hard on a new story, she said, though she wouldn’t tell me what, which just made me absolutely certain it was erotica—and over the weekend, I’d taken a little road trip to see my stepbrother and sister. Slade was a damn good doctor who’d fixed me more than once, and it was always good to see Iris. We’d been close ever since we were kids.

Okay, so it was a little odd that they were married and fucking like rabbits, but it wasn’t like they were
actually
related. And now I understood, more than ever, that sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants.

It had taken me years to get to this point of acceptance. My stepdad had really poisoned the well of my opinion of Slade by insisting that my stepbrother had taken advantage of Iris. I knew now things were way more complicated than that, and thankfully, with that realization came a lot of healing. It was still a little weird, though. Not gonna lie. But it’s not like they grew up together, or anything.

Plus, Slade understood that I didn’t want heavy-duty pain killers, even if that made my recovery that much harder. He got me some extra-strength OTC stuff that would take the edge off, but he respected my decision to stay clean, save for the occasional beer. He’d watched me go through rehab and recovery a few years ago, so he knew what was at risk for me. Vic’s guy never would have got it—just would’ve shoved some pills in my hand and told me to “man up.”

Seeing them had done me a lot of good, anyway. It was nice to hang out with my family. And when I’d told my sister about Parker, her eyes had lit up like the Fourth of July. I think it took a lot off her mind to know that her baby brother was starting to find his way in life.

“Took you long enough,” was all Slade had said about it. Dick. Still loved him, though.

Now I was back here in the prep room, listening to the distant roar of the crowd as Vic draped my robe over my shoulders. I cracked my neck on each side, hyping myself up. Parker was gonna be out there tonight. She’d promised. And that made all the aches and pains worth it: knowing she’d be there to cheer me on.

It was nice not to feel alone and ashamed. No, fuck that—it was damn amazing. A bona fide miracle.

“Hey, Killer,” Vic said, “before you go out there, there’s somethin’ we should talk about.”

I frowned. “What’s that?” This wasn’t about the payout, was it? Or was Vic about to ‘fess up to pitting me against a way bigger and heavier fighter?

“It’s about your girl and her friend. You know who he is, right? The guy she brought the other night?”

“Some guy named Thom,” I answered. “Look, Vic, if you’re about to tell me they’re getting cozy, you should know Thom’s not exactly batting for her team—”

“He’s a reporter, Killer,” Vic said soberly. I’d never seen him look so serious in all my life. “Some sports guy from
The Spill.
Your girl is bringin’ a fuckin’ reporter to our very illegal fights. Did you know about this?”

I hesitated. No, I hadn’t known. Parker had never mentioned it. Maybe it wasn’t worth mentioning. Maybe they had some kind of deal where Thom wasn’t allowed to use anything he saw here for work purposes.

Do you really believe that?
I asked myself. My stomach clenched. I sure as hell wanted to.

“I caught him snoopin’ around last time he was here,” Vic said. “Talkin’ to the fighters. I think he was tryin’ to get a beat on this place, on our operation. I think he’s tryin’ to shut us down.”

“Parker wouldn’t let that happen,” I said quickly, but damn if it didn’t sound like I was trying to convince myself. The truth was, I didn’t know her well enough to say. I was taking this all at face value, taking Parker at her word. And I had no way of knowing if that was even a good decision.

“She wouldn’t, huh?” Vic asked, narrowing his beady eyes at me. He shook his head. “Guess that means you don’t know that
she’s
a reporter, too.”

I snorted. “What? You’re crazy. She’s not…”

Oh, fuck. It all made sense now. She’d said she was a writer. She’d even joked about getting to know me better so she could put me in one of her stories. This whole time, I’d just assumed she was a novelist. But Parker Jones was a fucking journalist, and I was her inside scoop.

“Holy shit,” I muttered. “She is, isn’t she?”

Vic nodded, looking a little more sympathetic now. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, Killer. It should’ve been her. But I thought you needed to know, especially ‘cause if they keep diggin’, you’ll be out of a job.”

“Are you fucking threatening me, Vic?” I hissed, balling my taped-up hands into fists. “Really? Now?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Vic said, holding up his hands and taking a step back. “That’s no threat, Killer. Them’s just the facts. If we get shut down, I’m probably goin’ to jail, or at least crossin’ state lines to avoid that mess. I won’t be able to help you anymore. And hell, you could get arrested, too.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was all coming together now. They were going to ruin me. Parker and her fucking douche-faced friend were going to goddamn
ruin me.
And I’d opened the door and let them waltz right in, let them plant the ticking time bomb that would soon explode and take me, and everything I’d worked for, down in flames with it.

You’re such a fucking moron. You knew this was too good to be true.

Parker was just using me. Using me like the Marines had. Like my druggie friends before them. Good old Kellan, the guy we can depend on to shoulder the burden. The guy we call to get things done. The guy we leave behind once he’s no longer of any use to us.

To her, I was just a story. A paycheck. A rung on the ladder of her career aspirations. She was willing to step on me to get what she wanted, and she didn’t even have any qualms about sleeping with me to soften the blow. I didn’t need any pity-fucks from some chick who’d sold her soul, and I sure as hell didn’t need her hanging around so she could ruin my life.

“Fuck this,” I growled, flinging open the door and storming the ring.

I didn’t even wait for Vic to come get my robe. I tossed it at Jasmine, letting her make herself useful for a fucking change. She beamed at me as I stalked by, but I didn’t return her hopeful smile. When her face fell, I almost felt good about it. She needed a reality check. Parker or no, I was off the menu.

Vlad was on the other side of the mat, some big Russian dude who looked like he could’ve been a Bond villain. He had a deep scar over his left eye, extending all the way from above his blond brow to below his cheekbone. Just like The Herminator before him, I could tell Vlad wasn’t in my weight class. I had no idea what the hell Vic was trying to pull with this shit—maybe he was trying to drum up some interest from the crowd?—but in my experience, the bigger they were, the harder they’d fall.

I didn’t give a rat’s ass how big or mean he was. He was going down.

I didn’t have fucking time for this.

We went through the pre-fight ritual all civil and silent, but as soon as that bell rang, I was on him. Dude was slow and a powerhouse just like Herman Gomez had been, only Vlad was kind of clunky, too. He didn’t recover from a blow with the same kind of speed The Herminator had.

All these fucking stupid names. All these assholes.

Vlad was still recovering from a blow to his solar-plexus when I swept his feet out from under him and got him on the ground. I didn’t waste any time bashing his stupid fucking face in. I was out for blood today, and knowing that Parker was here didn’t exactly make me feel merciful.

He struggled at first, put up a good fight, but he was too slow and bulky to stop me, and I was too determined to make this end. I hit him and hit him and hit him again until the ref came over and tried to pull me away. And then I kept hitting him, until suddenly Vic was on one side of me and the ref was on the other, and security was behind me pulling me off The Impaler, whose face had become unrecognizable.

“Twenty-three seconds,” Vic breathed in my ear. “Twenty-three fucking seconds. Are you kiddin’ me, Killer? Holy shit! Do you know how much money we just won?”

I flung him off me and stared into the crowd. They were going nuts, absolutely wild, screaming for me with their hands in the air as security dragged Vlad’s limp body off the mat. I was covered in his blood, my face spattered with it, a vermilion veil that dripped off of me like sweat. I felt like a fucking monster, like the weapon everyone always told me I was.

And when I locked eyes with Parker, still standing out like a sore thumb amongst all the other patrons, I saw that she was proud of me. Proud of the animal I’d shown her I could be. But like everyone else, that pride soon turned to fear when she realized she was next on my shit list.

I thought you were different. I thought you’d be the one woman in all the world who’d never look at me that way. I guess I was wrong.

No shit,
I reminded myself.
How the hell could you be right about her when you never really knew her at all?