Slate (Breaking the Declan Brothers #2) (14 page)

I take a shower and decide I’m not going to stop my life for Slate Declan. Once I commit to going to JZS’s, I put on a pair of tight skinny jeans and a tank top. Luckily, my girls left me the golf cart. I won’t have to hoof it there in three-inch sandals.

Considering it’s Friday night, the place is packed. It takes a few minutes, but eventually, I find a space to park the cart and head on in. The front bar is empty. There must be a fight going on in the back. I push the door open to a crowd of people. Dammit. I’m not short and my sandals give me some height, but considering the guys who frequent these MMA fights, the place is crawling with huge, tatted men.

Spotting Melody, a friend from high school, who originally told me about JZS’s, I call her over.

“Hey, Rayna,” she says carrying a tray of empty beers.

“Hi, Melody. Have you seen Emmie?”

“Yeah, she’s up in front with that friend of yours.” She tilts her head in that direction. “Jax and Zeke are with them, too. Ya want me to get you a drink?”

“That’d be great, a light beer?”

“Sure thing,” she says with a chirpy smile before disappearing into the crowd.

I push my way to the front, where Melody indicated Emmie and Lurlene are. I keep glancing up at the cage to see who is fighting, but each time I do, some beefy guy’s head or shoulder gets in my way.

“Hey, Rayna!” I hear Emmie, and then spot her hand waving in the air. “Over here!”

I squeeze past a couple of meatheads and make it safely to my friends while getting a clear view of the cage. Shit! Slate’s on tonight. He just slammed his opponent to the floor. I turn to Emmie and Lurlene with a tight smile.

“Ya need a beer?” Zeke lifts his chin with the question.

“No, thanks, I caught Melody on the way in, she’s bringing me—” I stop as the crowd’s howling drowns out my words. I look up at the cage and Slate’s pinned to the floor as the other fighter repeatedly hits him in the side. I turn away. I can’t watch.

Melody appears. “Here.” She hands me a beer with her eyes glued to the cage. “Oww.” She ducks her head, and her face scrunches. “That had to hurt.” She glances over at Jax. “I’m surprised you let him fight tonight, isn’t this like his third or fourth day in a row?”

My eyes shoot to Jax, who confirms with a short nod and a grimace. My eyes dart back up to the cage. Slate lays limp on the floor, face bruised and bloodied, as the guy pounds his fist into every viable body part. Slate barely moves. He’s hardly fighting back like he wants to get his ass kicked. What the hell!

“You gotta stop this,” I say to Jax. “Call the fight or something.”

Jax shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“But that guy’s killing him!” I turn to Emmie for a little help.

“Jax,” Emmie says, coaxingly her lover with the bat of her large blue eyes.

“Sorry, princess.” Jax crosses his arms over his chest, standing his ground. “I promised Slate that as long as he’s clean, he can get in the ring. My hands are tied.”

Getting nowhere with him, I turn to the other Declan brother. “Zeke?”

“Rayna, there’s a ref.” He points at the cage. “He’ll call it.”

I take a quick glimpse at Slate’s flaccid body. “No! He can’t take much more. You guys have to do something now!” I circle them, stopping at Lurlene.

“She’s right, he looks bad,” Lurlene says, turning to Zeke. Her eyes soften as she stares up at him. “Zeke, please do something.” She looks at him the same way that Emmie looked at Jax when she had pleaded for her lover to do something. We all observe the exchange, we all see the control Lurlene has over Zeke, and we all watch his hands fist, his biceps and forearms flex, and his shoulders bunch as he tries to fight against it.

“Fuck!” He turns on his heels, and I’m not sure what kind of power Lurlene has over Zeke Declan, but I’m thankful for it. I sigh with relief. The crowd starts to cheer again and Zeke stops. All of our heads turn to the cage. Slate is back on steady feet, slamming his fist into the other fighter’s face. Within seconds, Slate knocks his opponent to the ground. I hold my breath, praying that the guy doesn’t get up, and finally breathe again when the ref announces Slate as the winner.

An hour later, I’m sitting at the bar sucking down my fourth or fifth beer. Really, I stopped counting after I saw Krissy Sykes enter the place. The bitch still looks good. She had the nerve to smile at me. Of course, I didn’t give her the time of day. I pick up my beer and take a huge gulp as Melody slides in next to me. “Where’d Emmie, and, ah…”

“Lurlene,” I say.

“Yeah,” she says. “That’s a weird name, Lurlene.”

“Don’t know. I think they ditched me.” I drag my eyes from Krissy and smile at Melody. “You wanna hit up Galveston tonight? What time you working till?”

“Closing.” Her lip turns down in a pout. Then something catches her attention. Her eyebrows lift. “Well, would you look at that.”

I turn around and see Slate walking in the bar and that heart-tightening thing happens all over again.

“He never comes in here after a fight, and whenever he does make an appearance, he’s always got on a damn hoodie. Not today. Shit, that boy is hot. Oh-” Melody covers her mouth. “My bad, forgot you two used to date.”

“That was years ago,” I say watching Krissy walk up to Slate. Screw them. I spin around on my stool.

“Hey, Melody,” I hear a sexy male voice drawl, “who’s your friend?”

I slowly turn my head to the side, finding the bluest eyes sitting directly above two adorable dimples. The guy’s a tad young for my liking but with lips like that, I wonder what he can do with them. A small smile creeps over mine just thinking about it.

“Hi Rory, this is Rayna. We went to high school together,” Melody says, flashing me a smile of approval. “Rory works over at Corbett’s Construction.”

“Is that right,” I say, swinging my foot under the bar. Rory the construction worker just might be exactly what I need to distract me from the cheating assholes lurking behind me.

“I’ll let you two get acquainted,” Melody says, picking up an empty beer from the bar. “I gotta get back to work. See ya around, Rory. Rayna.” She gives me a wink before heading behind the bar.

“So,” Rory sets his beer down and clasps his strong working-man hands together, “you used to live here?”

“Yeah, a couple of friends and I decided to come back for the summer. My sister keeps a place here.” I rest my chin in the palm of my hand, trying to give him my full attention.

“Really, where do you live now?”

“Manhattan.”

“Ah...a city girl.”

“Not at heart.” I bat my eyes at him with a laugh.

He smiles back at me. Then his eyes shift to my left shoulder, his jovial expression dropping along the way. “Slate,” he says with a curt nod.

“Rory,” I hear and feel Slate’s deep malicious tone sashay against my neck and ear. I feel the heat of his body close in on my back. I hold my smile and gaze at Rory, but the look on his face blatantly says that he’s out of here. As if guys have some kind of silent code and Slate just used the one that says back the fuck off.

“Rayna.” Rory picks up his beer from the bar, tilts it at me, and then my hot construction worker struts away.

I twirl around in the stool grabbing the bar to stop myself when I’m facing Slate. Damn, Melody is right. Even all beat to hell, he’s hot. I think the cuts and bruises just make him look tough, all badass and stuff, which only makes him hotter. Oh no, I’m not falling for it! The last time I saw him, he was chatting it up with Krissy Sykes, the girl who six years ago I found in bed with him. So, no, he doesn’t get to come over here and scare my prospects away.

“Why Slate,” I lower my eyes, taking in every inch of his muscle-bound body, “I don’t recall when we were dating, you ever being the jealous type,” I glance up from his crotch, “
when
you actually had the right to.”

“Once mine,” his eyes darken and his lids lower, “always mine.”

“Oh-ho,” I laugh. “I know you’re not talking about me.” I point to myself.

He leans down. My back snaps straight, observing the resolve in his eyes. He’s after something, and I got a hankering it might just be me. “I most certainly am,” he says, confirming my concerns.

I sway back from him, pick up my beer, and take a small sip. I set it down. I gotta play it cool or he might just get what he wants. “So, whatcha been up to?” I try to ignore the whole alpha male claiming his woman bullshit. To be honest, I do like it, especially coming from Slate.

“If you’re asking...” He grips the edge of the bar, and the muscles beneath his scarred flesh ripples. “…if I’ve been out getting high, the answer is,” his eyes flash to my mouth and my thighs clench, “no.”

“You’ve been clean since?” I pause, entrapped by the glistening flecks of color in his eyes as they make it to mine.

“Yes, I have, and babe, you’ve caused some trouble for yourself locking me down in the basement with you.”

“How so?”

“Well, now that I’m thinking straight, I’ve decided that I’m gonna come after you, full force. And soon enough there’ll be no misunderstanding as to who you belong to.”

“Ah, no, you’re not.” I shake my head. Shit. Slate does wear this new confidence well. His self-assurance is dripping with hotness.

“Ah, yes, I am. Now, grab your purse because I’m taking you home.”

“I’m not going home with you!” I want to, but I can’t. I won’t.

“No, monkey.” He chuckles. “I’m not trying to get in your pants right now. Tonight, I’m just going to drive you home.”

“No. You’re. Not!” Way to stay cool, girl! My entire body is shaking. “Go find Krissy Sykes, if you want to give someone a ride home.”

“Ah,” he grimaces, “that’s what’s going on here?”

“What? You think that I forgot what you did with her. I haven’t. So you come at me
full force
but get ready to hit a wall. I’ll never be with you again! Never!”

“Yes, you will,” he says. “Now get your shit, I’m taking you home.”

“No, you’re—”

“Listen. You’re leaving this bar with me. We can do this the nice way or the hard way. But you better think real hard about that hard way. You don’t want some poor sweet sap getting his ass kicked for trying to be a hero, now do you?”

“You’re a heartless asshole.”

“Yeah, I’m an asshole. Zeke informs me of that all the time, but heartless…” He shakes his head. “I can assure you I have a heart, Rayna.”

“How’s that?”

He grabs my hand and pulls me down from the stool. “’Cause no matter how high I get, how fucked-up I am, or how far down I am on the ground…” He pulls me against him. “I always feel you,” he lifts my hand and sets it on his chest, “right here.”

“Slate,” I gasp.

“I warned you,” he bends down, “full force, babe.”

“Stop,” Rayna says, smacking me hard on the arm. “Stop the car, Slate!”

I press my foot on the brake, taking my eyes off the road for a quick second to shoot her a, “What?”

“Did you see that?” She glances behind us, then back at me. “I think it was a dog.” She reaches for the car door handle just as I stop the car.

Great! A fucking dog on the side of the road; this can’t be good. Rayna jumps out. I put the car in park and follow her. She’s kneeling down in front of the pile of gold fur. Oh God, I hope it’s not dead.

She’s always trying to rescue injured animals. One time we came across a nest of mutilated bunnies. I remembered seeing a documentary once about how the mother sometimes eats her babies if she feels threatened, or the father will eat them so he can fuck the mother again. Messed up, but when we saw the nest, I figured that’s what happened. Rayna got all upset until she noticed that one of the bunnies had survived. She took the poor thing home, nurtured it, and then set it back out in the wild. I didn’t have the heart to tell her when I found out that she set it free that since being domesticated, it probably wouldn’t survive.

Rayna runs her hands gently along the dog’s body. “She’s still alive.” She looks up at me with hope in her eyes. Man, I do love her huge heart. “We need to take her to some kind of animal clinic or hospital. Oh!” She points at me. “I think there’s one on Main Street.”

“Yeah, there is.” I take a deep breath and crouch down. The dog must be a mix breed, maybe lab and golden retriever. I rub the dog’s ear. “Well, I don’t see any blood, so that’s good.”

“I know, but she’s not moving. She could have a broken leg or something,” Rayna says, with that glowing ray of hope still shimmering in her big green eyes.

“Maybe.” I nod, aware of what I’m going to have to do. “All right, girl.” I reach beneath the dog’s limp body and carefully pick her up. She barely responds to my touch. “Go open the back door,” I say to Rayna as I carry the animal over to the car.

Two hours later, we’re sitting in a room at the all-night animal clinic. The vet confirmed that the dog had a few cracked ribs. He wrapped her chest up and left the room to get some pain meds. Rayna’s coddling the animal, petting her head and cooing softly down at her. The dog’s big brown eyes move to me for a second, and then she looks back at Rayna. It’s right then that I know this dog isn’t going anywhere. I know, just like me, she’s reached right inside of Rayna and has latched herself around my girlfriend’s heart. I’m also aware that there’s more to this moment than us finding a mutt on the side of the road. Rayna has the opportunity to save this dog from the car accident, something she wasn’t able to do for her brother.