LUST: A Bad Boy and Amish Girl Romance (The Brody Bunch Book 2) (46 page)

“
T
hom
, stop poking at it. You’ll only make it worse.”

Thom made a face at me from his hospital bed, an expression somewhere between a glower and a scowl. He was holding up a hand mirror and inspecting his staples for the umpteenth time since I’d arrived at the hospital, fiddling with them as he lamented the loss of his beautiful hair.

“You’re like Samson,” I muttered, watching him as he ignored me. “You know that, right?”

“Let’s just hope I haven’t lost all my reporter powers,” he said, finally setting the mirror down on his food tray. “You know, web-slinging, scaling tall buildings, disguising myself with nothing but a pair of glasses—that sort of thing.”

“I think you’re mixing up your comic book heroes,” I replied, unable to suppress my smile. After Thom had taken such a terrible blow to his head, I’d worried about brain damage, but he seemed just fine on that front, at least. He was still sharp as ever, if a little depressed. Andy, his fiancé, had assured him time and time again that he was still just as sexy as ever, but Thom disagreed.
Without my hair,
he’d grumped,
I’m nothing.

Of course, that was before the worst of the morphine wore off, so maybe he’d seen the light now.

“Kellan says hi,” I said, checking my phone at the same time. It was past six o’clock, and Kellan’s fight would be starting in just a couple hours. I didn’t want to be late, but I also knew Thom needed company. He was the epitome of a social butterfly, and I was pretty sure he’d go insane without someone to talk to, and Andy had to work. “He also says ‘sorry.’ He feels like this was his fault.”

“He’s an idiot,” Thom said. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way. You can tell him I said so—it’s not his fault at all. It’s his manager’s. Victor Dallas has got all those guys brainwashed. They’re completely under his thrall.”

I blew out a sigh, thinking of how just a few days ago, Kellan had been just as defensive of Vic as the goons who’d beat up Thom were. Kellan was a smart guy, but even he’d been taken in. I guessed when you were at rock bottom, the simplest display of kindness could end up meaning the world.

At least you know he’s loyal.

“Well, Kellan’s out of it, now,” I told Thom. “Or at least, he will be after this one last fight.”

“He’s fighting tonight?” Thom asked. I nodded. “Then what the hell are you doing here with me? Shouldn’t you be there supporting him?”

I smiled. “I will be, though having your blessing means a lot. I’ve still got some time until I have to go. I figured I’d get you up to speed on everything that’s been going on.”

“I can’t wait to put this guy’s ass in a sling,” Thom groaned, leaning back against his pillow. “If he thinks getting my head split open is going to make me turn tail, he’s a moron. And by the time I’m done with him, I’m hoping he’s a moron in jail.”

“As soon as you’re feeling better, you and I will go in for the kill,” I assured him with another smile. “And I’m sure Kellan will help however he can, too, providing he doesn’t beat Vic to death as soon as he hands Kellan his money.”

I’d meant it as a joke, but soon realized that scenario was a distinct possibility. Vic had betrayed Kellan on every possible level, and Kellan had a temper. What was to keep him from bashing Vic’s brains out once he had his winnings in his hand?

I bit my lip. I hoped that wasn’t the case. Kellan could walk out of this free and clear, if he could just keep his anger in check. He could start fresh. We could really build something together. But not if he was in jail for assault.

I sent him a quick text as Thom fussed with his in-room TV.
Keep your head in the game. No revenge plots! <3

Kellan texted me back just a few moments later.
Aww. :( Ur no fun.

Satisfied, I shook my head and turned my attention back to Thom. “Is there anything you need from me, Thom? Anything at all?” The truth was that I, too, felt a little responsible for his predicament. I had, after all, pulled him into all of this for the sake of a story. More and more, I was realizing there were way more important things in life than making the front page. Thom’s wellbeing was one of those things, and our friendship was another.

“Stop making puppy dog eyes at me,” Thom replied, finally settling on some primetime drama. “You’re as blameless in all this as your boyfriend is. Which reminds me: how did you two finally make up?”

I blushed. “He came over after he found out what happened to you. Said we were right and he was sorry about everything. And then… well, then we made up in the usual way.”

“So glad my cracked skull is bringing people together,” Thom said, but smiled nonetheless. “I really am happy for you, Parker. And I think if we play our cards right, in the end, we’re all going to get what we want.”

“I just wish I could’ve gotten the senator,” I sighed. “Even though the worst will soon be behind us, Kellan’s going to have a long way to go. It would make things easier if he had a safety net he could rely on. Something like that veterans’ bill.”

“You did your best, didn’t you?” Thom asked. I nodded, and he shrugged. “Then you’ve done all you can. And I think Kellan will understand that, no matter how hard-headed he is about everything else.”

“I think you’re right,” I agreed, standing up. “If you’re all set, though, I’m going to head out. Is Andy coming by later?”

“Yes, and he’s sneaking me in some sushi, so don’t tell anyone.” I made a face and Thom laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s not from that new place. I wouldn’t want to go the way of Melanie Cartwright, on top of everything else.”

“From your lips to God’s ears,” I said, stepping around the side of his bed to kiss his cheek. I caught him on the temple, and he grunted a little. “Please get some rest, Thom. The story will be here when you get back. You don’t have to worry about me cutting you out.”

“I know you’d never dream of it,” Thom said, then reached over and clasped my hand. “And thank you for that. It’s not often you find integrity in our world.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, squeezing his fingers softly. “I’ll see you later, Thom.”

“Call me when it’s all over,” he replied, and I nodded on my way out.

I was just about to take the elevator to the hospital’s parking garage when my cell phone rang. I assumed it was Kellan checking up on me until I saw the number on the screen. I had to do a double-take. This person wasn’t in my contacts, but I knew that number like the back of my hand. It was Senator MacFarlane’s office.

I moved out of the way of the elevator doors to let the people behind me in and returned to the hall. “This is Parker,” I said as I picked up the call.

I’d expected the senator’s secretary, but the voice on the other end was distinctly male. “Ms. Jones, this is Senator MacFarlane returning your call. Or should I say ‘calls’? You’ve given my voicemail a run for its money, that’s for sure.”

I swallowed thickly, trying to make the transition from human being to professional journalist. “All in the name of the greater good, Senator. I take it you got my message about the veterans’ jobs bill?”

“I did,” he replied. “As well as the many others you left with my secretary. That’s why I’m calling you back. I’d love to sit down and talk to you, face-to-face. Where can we meet?”

My heart pounded in my chest. Holy shit. This was everything I’d been waiting for. Everything I’d dreamed of. I’d had fantasy after fantasy of the senator calling me back and arranging a meeting just like this, and yet now that it had happened, I had no idea what to do.

After a pause that felt like eons, I said, “What about Café Franz?” It was an upscale, but affordable, restaurant downtown. They had a room for private meetings that I was sure the senator would take advantage of.

“That sounds fine,” the senator said. “I haven’t eaten dinner yet, anyway.”

I blinked. “Wait. You want to meet
tonight?
”

“That was my intent,” he replied, “though if you’re busy, I’m sure we could schedule something for… next month, perhaps?”

No, that wouldn’t do. Kellan needed this bill to pass, and he needed it to pass
yesterday.
But he was fighting tonight, and soon. Could I really manage to tackle both his fight and a meeting with a state senator all in one evening?

I had to. I’d make it work. And when Kellan saw me after, I’d have amazing news. He’d be thrilled. It would be a great start to his new life—
our
new life.

Steeling myself, I said, “Tonight is fine. I can be at Café Franz in fifteen minutes.” At least it was close to where Kellan would be fighting tonight. If I pled my case succinctly, he might not even have time to miss me.

“I’ll see you there,” the senator said. Then he ended the call.

I thought about shooting Kellan a quick text to let him know where I’d be, but I didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily. If I wasn’t going to be late, it wasn’t a big deal, anyway. And I kind of wanted this news to be a surprise, if things went well. If they didn’t, there was no reason to tell him. I didn’t need the anticipation of an answer clouding his judgment in the ring, either. He needed to keep his eyes on the prize: winning his freedom.

Instead, I sent him another heart, but didn’t get a reply. He was probably warming up now, and I knew from experience he had no place in those shorts of his to hide a phone. They’d certainly never hidden his erection.

You can do this,
I assured myself as I pressed the button for the garage.
You can make it all work out. I’m sure of it.

Kellan was my hero. For once, I wanted to be his, too.

T
he first indication
I had that something was wrong was when I saw the crowd.

Never had I ever drawn a following this large. I’d never seen anyone else on my level do it, either. Shit, even my last fight, which was supposed to be good odds for Vlad, hadn’t had this many people watching. Something was going on here. Even if it was my last fight, there was no justification for the hundreds of people gathered here.

I wasn’t especially familiar with this venue, either. It wasn’t my usual place, and it was a hell of a lot bigger, too. The facilities here were a little nicer, a little more permanent. Whoever had set this up sure as hell wasn’t worried about getting busted. There was no way they’d be able to bug out on short notice.

I stuffed my clothes and my cell phone in one of the lockers as I listened to the chatter coming from the ringside. Jesus, I could hear them all the way from in here. A low beat was thrumming from a wicked sound system I’d caught a glimpse of on my way in, a bassline I could feel in my chest. It only made me more uneasy. I didn’t like all this flashiness. I felt a little too much like I was on display.

“What’s the occasion?” I said to Vic when I heard him come in. I was doing my best to follow Parker’s advice and be civil, but I knew if I looked at him, I’d bash his stupid rat-fink face in, so I kept my eyes on the inside of my locker and busied myself with making everything fit in there.

“Gotta do it big for your last fight, don’t we, Killer?” Vic replied a little more coolly than I was used to. I was pretty sure he was mocking me, and I got the impression that there was something sinister lurking in his tone. “You’re gettin’ your fifteen minutes of fame and fortune tonight, so do me a favor and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, huh?”

“If you’d said that a few weeks ago, Vic, I would’ve happily obliged,” I said, closing my locker. I turned to face him. Yup, there it was—the unmistakable urge to put my fist through Vic’s skull. I was practically seeing red. But I had a lot riding on tonight, and I couldn’t afford to compromise it with assault and battery charges. Parker was right. I needed to keep my head in the game.

I swallowed my rage and added, “But I think we both know now that everything you do comes with a price. Usually one nobody knows they’re paying.”

Vic blinked at me, barely suppressing a smile. “Oh, did I forget to mention?” I stared, and he grinned. “Oh, man. I guess I did! No wonder you’re so confused.” He walked over and reached up, placing his sweaty palm on my shoulder. “Tonight’s a big night for you and me both, Killer. You’re goin’ up against Johnny Tutera. What a rare opportunity, huh?”

Johnny Tutera. Johnny fucking Tutera? Vic couldn’t be serious. Johnny Tutera was a legit MMA fighter. A fucking professional. I’d watched his fights on TV a couple of times, spent whole nights in awe of the guy’s skill and prowess. What the fuck was he doing here? And how the hell had Vic snagged him?

More importantly, how the fuck was I supposed to beat him?

Slowly, I realized that was the point. I wasn’t supposed to win this fight. This was Vic’s way of making sure of that. Once again, he’d set me up for a fall. Vic
always
had to get the last word in, and this was one hell of a “fuck you.”

I swatted his hand off my shoulder and grabbed him by the throat, shoving him back into the set of lockers opposite mine. Vic slapped at my wrist and I hoisted him up, pushing him hard against the metal until his feet left the ground.

“You fat bastard,” I hissed, squeezing hard. Vic wheezed and his face purpled. “You dumb fuck. You think you’re pullin’ all the strings here, don’t you, Vic? You think all your little pit bulls are just too loyal to bite the hand that feeds them, huh? Except we never knew that you were feeding us scraps while you feasted on the food
we fucking brought you.
”

“Killer,” Vic managed to choke out, and I squeezed tighter.

“Shut up, Vic. For once, I’m gonna get the last word in.”

I looked deep into Vic’s eyes as I strangled the life out of him. His eyes were bulging and his tongue was pushing past his teeth. I could see the veins in his neck and head straining, pushing through his skin as they begged for the blood I was denying him. He kicked frantically, scoring a couple of weak blows against my thighs, gagging hard against my fingers wrapped around his throat.

When he began to struggle a little less and his body started to go limp, I let him go. Vic crashed to the ground and sucked in a long, painful breath, followed by the worst coughing fit I’d ever heard. I thought he was going to throw up.

I squatted down beside him and said, “No matter which way this goes tonight, Vic, I’m walking out of here with what you owe me. I’m not playing your stupid fucking games anymore. You fuck with me again, and the next time we meet, I won’t stop squeezing until you’re dead. It wouldn’t be the first time I looked into a man’s eyes while his life ran out. That’s why they call me ‘Killer,’ Vic. Or did I forget to mention that?”

Vic was too busy trying to get a breath in to answer me. Good. I hoped I’d crushed his larynx and that dick face would never be able to talk again.

I knew I’d done exactly what Parker had warned me not to do, but fuck Vic, and fuck this fight. Johnny Tutera was a monster in silver boxing shorts, a champion among champions. He was a couple years younger than me, too, and in a heavier weight class for sure. He was at the top of his fucking game, and I was on my way out.

Not to mention I’d fucked before the fight. I knew that was superstition, but it didn’t exactly put me at ease. This was turning out to be a big fucking mess, and I was once again caught in the middle.

Everything you touch turns to shit,
a little voice in the back of my head sneered. That voice had been softer ever since I’d gotten back together with Parker, but even at a whisper, it made my stomach tie itself into knots.

There’s no backing down now,
I thought in reply.
The only way to go is forward. Whatever happens tonight, at least I’ll have Parker, and a new lease on life, too. As long as she’s proud of me, that’s enough.

But was it? What if I went out undefeated? What if I could keep the reputation I’d spent so long building in the underground fighting world? What if I could have my cake and eat it too—go out on top, and end up with Parker and my money all the same?

Was that greed, or pride? I wasn’t sure, but I knew damn well it was foolish to even consider going out there against Johnny Tutera.

I was going to do it anyway. I had to. A man’s not a man if he isn’t willing to stand up and fight when it counts. And as far as I was concerned, this counted a whole damn lot. Even losing was preferable to bowing out. I was going to leave this ring as Killer Kellan, not Kellan the Coward. I’d never backed down from a fight in all my life, and I wasn’t about to start now.

I forsook my robe and threw open the door to the long hall that would take me to the ring. I was taped up and ready to go, still a little sore from all the beatings I’d taken lately, but driven just the same. Sometimes, determination was enough to make the difference. Sometimes, if you just wanted it more than the other guy, that went a long damn way.

I didn’t know if that was true for me and Tutera, but it was all I had. That, and a girl worth putting up a fight for.

I was immediately overwhelmed by the crowd. I’d seen their numbers in passing earlier, but now they were on all sides of me, screaming, roaring, a sea of dark faces amid the lightning strikes of camera flashes. I tried to ignore them, tried to focus only on getting onto the mat, but their collective cries shook my bones. This was unreal. I felt like I didn’t belong.

As soon as I’d made it past the ropes, I stared right into Johnny Tutera’s eyes. This kid was all muscle, and although he was a few inches shorter than me, he more than made up for it in bulk. Johnny was the full package—both quick, and a brick house. He could take a hit like nobody I’d ever seen, and he could dish it out just as hard, if not harder.

He was the kind of fighter I’d expect if Muhammad Ali and Ronda Rousey had a baby. I was good, but I wasn’t good enough to take a Rousey-Ali mashup.

I stalked over to him after giving a reassuring nod to the ref. And I held out my hand. “Honor to fight you, man. You’re one of the best.”

Tutera gripped my palm. “Thanks, man. Can’t say I’ve ever heard of you, though.”

“Slummin’ it, huh?” I said, letting go.

“Just gettin’ a taste of the other side,” Tutera replied. Then he sniffed conspicuously and touched the side of his nose. “Startin’ to get a taste for it, if you know what I mean.”

Great. So Tutera was hopped up on coke, on top of everything else. He was a maniac sober. I could only imagine what he was like amped up. This was going to go badly for me. I just knew it.

At least it’s not one of Vic’s crazy death matches,
I thought.

The ref came over to let me know it was time to start, and I backed away from Tutera and into my own corner. I did a quick scan of the crowd, but with so many faces, it was near impossible to make out Parker’s. I tried looking for her goody two-shoes getup with those sexy librarian glasses of hers, but I couldn’t find those, either. I didn’t have more than a few seconds to spare, though. Maybe she was just too far back for me to see her.

Tutera and I came to the center of the mat to hear out the rules. They were the same every time; I knew them by heart. I focused my attention on Tutera instead, on the wild look in his eyes—the controlled chaos brewing in his gaze.

Be cool, Kellan. Be cool.
I took a deep breath through my nose and looked to the ref for permission to start.

And just like that, Tutera was on me.

I’d barely managed to get my hands up before I was blocking multiple blows. Tutera came in fast and hard, wasting no time in probing for a weak spot. I kept my hands up and danced backward, leading him around the ring. The strikes I couldn’t dodge hurt, but Tutera was being impulsive. It must’ve been the cocaine, or maybe his ego. Either way, maybe that was something I could use to my advantage once he got tired.

If
he got tired. Coked up the way he was, I wasn’t sure he would.

As I pivoted to try to get in a body blow, Tutera raised up and hit me right in the side of the head. I knew the crowd was cheering, but I was momentarily deafened by the force of his fist. I stumbled to the side and Tutera kicked me hard in the thigh, sending me down to the mat. I rolled just in time to avoid a stomp that would’ve cracked my ribs, and was back up on my feet within seconds, though my hearing was still fuzzy.

My heart hammered in my chest.
Fuck, that was close.

I didn’t give Tutera the opportunity to get the drop on me again. I went after him this time, swinging for his face, backing him up toward the ropes. I got him once in the cheek, but at the expense of taking a knee to the stomach. I guarded just before the blow and was able to keep most of the air in my lungs, but I still had to back up and give up ground to Tutera, who seemed only too thrilled to take it from me again.

As I tried to push him back, he raised his knee again and I dropped a hand to block him, but that was a mistake—he was only feinting. I knew the second my palm made contact with his thigh. There was no force behind it. The punch that came hurtling at my face, however…

I took one hard in the jaw, my teeth clanging together painfully. Before I could even raise my hand again, Tutera had hit me with a left hook that sent me reeling, then a right cross that nearly knocked me off my feet. I put both my hands up again, but Tutera was a demon, forcing me back so fast I almost tripped over my own feet. I ducked a particularly powerful swing, only to end up meeting his knee again, this time straight in the chest.

Fuck.
Instinctively, I doubled over. It felt like he’d cracked my sternum with that one. It was a stupid move, but sometimes your body betrays you. It wants to curl in on itself, to protect you from any more pain. Your body doesn’t know the rules of MMA or professional fighting. It just knows it doesn’t want to get killed.

Folding forward put me almost eye-level with Tutera, and he smashed me right on the bridge of my nose with a head-butt. Stars exploded in front of my eyes in all the colors of the rainbow and I toppled back against the ropes, sinking to the ground.

Fuck!

Nose injuries were weird. I could feel the blood coursing down my face, knew the wound was swelling, but it didn’t really hurt. It just felt like nothing was holding my face together anymore. It was disorienting as hell.

The ref got between us before Tutera could go in for the kill. “Let him up! He’s gotta get that bleeding stopped! Folks want their money’s worth tonight.”

Smart money was on Tutera, I guessed. He backed off and the ref helped me to my feet, then over to my corner so I could get patched up enough to keep fighting. I couldn’t see it, but I knew my face was a mess. I could feel how bad the swelling was; the inside corners of my eyes even felt tight. I felt like a Mack truck had hit me. I could barely even hear what the ringside medic was asking me.

“You good?” he said again, much louder than before. I looked up at him dumbly, but nodded. He shined a small flashlight in both my eyes, hesitated, then turned to the ref and nodded. Holding onto the ropes, I stood up.

Somebody rang the bell, and as a ring girl strutted around holding up the card for the second round, I scanned the crowd again for Parker’s pretty face. I had more than a few seconds now, but no matter how hard I strained, I still couldn’t find her. My heart sank as realization dawned on me. She wasn’t here.

Where the hell is she?
I wondered. Suddenly, I felt very alone—like I had no one in my corner at all.