I ducked under the covers to shield him from my tears.
A few seconds later, I heard the door click shut.
***
“Ky?”
“Huh?” I blink, pushing back the memories.
“Where did you go just now?”
“Sorry, just spaced out.”
Madison gives me an unsure smile. “So Jackson?”
“Yeah, what about him?”
“Can I meet him?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Already wanting to meet the family? A little soon, don’t you think?”
“I just want to get to know you more. That’s all.”
“He’s busy a lot. I doubt he’ll have time.”
“Sure you’re not just ashamed to be seen with me?”
“No.” I laugh. “More like I want to keep you to myself. What if you fall for him? Then what?”
She ignores me and grabs my phone off the coffee table. “Ask him.”
I’m about to argue, but her face is set with determination and I can’t say no.
She kicks my leg with her bare feet. “Come on, Kyler, what’s the worst he can say? No? He’s too busy?”
“I’ll call him if you promise never to call me Kyler again.”
“Deal, Kyler.”
Ky: Madison wants to meet you.
Jackson: Madison?
Ky: My neighbor.
I stare at the phone a moment, waiting for a reply. When it doesn’t come after a minute, I set it back on the table.
“What did he say?” she asks.
“Hasn’t replied.”
Honestly, I’m a little disappointed. As much as I don’t want Madison involved in what Jax and I are doing, I want my brother to meet the girl I’m into, and I want his approval...almost to the point where I need it.
I want to give him a reason to be proud of me again. And right now, Madison’s the only thing I have to be proud of.
I’d almost given up hope when a message comes through.
Jackson: When?
My gaze moves to Madison. “When?”
Her smile is instant. “Right now!”
“Now?”
“No wasting time, Ky, remember?”
Ky: She said now.
Jackson: Whipped already? Nice job. I’m at O’Malley’s bar checking out the place. Meet me here in thirty? I’ll hand you back your balls when you guys get here.
“You ready?” I ask her.
Her eyes go huge. “Okay!” She shoots to her feet. “I’ll just freshen up.”
Five minutes later she knocks on my door—barefoot, hair a mess, wearing a bathrobe.
“You’re going like that?”
She pulls on my arm and drags me through her apartment and into her room.
Clothes.
Everywhere.
She’s either the messiest girl I’ve ever met, or she’s just been robbed.
“I don’t know what to wear!” she rushes out. “I was so excited to meet your brother and now I’m panicking because I don’t know what to wear! What do you wear when you go to meet your prospective—” She cuts herself off, takes a deep breath, and then starts again. “Where are we even meeting? What’s the dress code? Does he like casual or proper? Will he look down on me if I—what if he doesn’t like me and then he tells you and—”
I lose it in a fit of laughter.
“This isn’t funny, Ky!”
I reel it in, just enough so that I can grab her shoulders and sit her on the edge of her bed. “Maddy...he’s going to like you because I like you, and because it’s kind of impossible not to like you. He won’t care what you wear because he’s not that like that. If you want me to call him and cancel, I will, but you’re overthinking it. I promise.”
After taking a few calming breaths, she says, “Get out!”
“What?”
“I need to get dressed! Get out!”
***
She chooses another modest dress, which is good because I’m really not in the mood to be punching creeps that look at her wrong. Especially in front of my detective brother.
I point to Jackson once we’re in the bar. He’s sitting in a corner booth, dressed casually, sipping a beer while checking his phone.
Her grip on my hand gets tighter each step closer we get. It’s kind of cute how nervous she is. “Jackson,” I say, standing next to the table.
He looks up and smiles when he sees me, but the smile widens when he sees Maddy. He gets to his feet and gives me the standard bro-hug. Then he turns to Madison. I don’t miss his quick once over. “You must be Madison?”
“And you’re Jackson?” she replies, throwing her hand out for a shake. He looks down at it, ignores it, and moves in for a hug. A nice, long, tight, semi-inappropriate hug. He winks at me over her shoulder. “You smell so good,” he says in her ear.
“All right.” I step forward and peel him off of her while he tries to hide his amusement.
He gives her one more squeeze before letting go. “You’re an ass,” I tell him, gesturing for Maddy to take a seat. Jax chuckles lightly before pointing at the two of us. “You guys need drinks?”
“I got it,” I say quickly.
“Shut up, Parker. It’s on me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, I said—”
“You trying to show off?”
“No. I can buy—”
“Boys!” Maddy interrupts. “You can both go.”
Jax and I laugh.
“Fine,” he says.
I smile down at her. “Are you good?”
She nods.
I give her a quick kiss on her temple, then follow Jax to the bar. He orders a round of beers and then turns back to look at Madison.
I do the same. “Thanks for meeting us, man. I know how you feel about her being around—”
“So she just asked you if she could meet me?”
I shrug—my eyes fixed on her. “Yeah, I told her about you and—”
“How much does she know?”
“Relax. I just told her I had a brother. That’s all.”
He exhales loudly. “It’s been six years, Ky. You and I are still brothers?”
“It’s been five, Jax, and we’ll always be brothers.”
I see him watching me from the corner of my eye. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve kind of been an asshole. I dragged your ass into this and gave you no choice.”
“Jax, this means more to me than you—”
“Maybe,” he cuts in. “I just don’t want anything getting between us this time. Our relationship comes first, Ky. If the case gets in the way, we call the whole thing off.”
I clear the lump in my throat, unable to respond.
He adds, “She seems nice; I’m happy for you.”
“She’s amazing, Jax.”
Before he gets a chance to respond, the bartender gets our attention. I turn to him and throw a twenty on the bar before Jackson can stop me. Picking up all three beers, I face Jackson, but he’s staring at our table—eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.
I follow his gaze.
My heart stops.
Opposite Madison, sitting in Jackson’s seat, is Nate DeLuca.
His forearms rest on the table as he leans into her. His mouth moves and whatever he’s saying has her smiling politely at him.
“Don’t let him take it,” Jax says.
“Take what?” I ask, my eyes never leaving them.
“You. You told me that, remember? Don’t let him own you.” He pats my shoulder. “Tell her I got a call and had to leave. Go deal with him. And Ky?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember what I said. Become his friend. Get in his head. We need to know everything about him. It’s the only way we can ruin him.”
“And the only way we get revenge, right?”
“Like I said, if it’s not worth it for you just say the word.”
“I’ll call you. Get out of here.”
***
&nb
sp; The beers land on the table with a thud. I look at Madison first; she smiles, assuring me that she’s fine.
Then I switch my attention to DeLuca.
“Well, if it isn’t my old friend Parker. I was just telling—”
“Let’s talk,” I cut in.
He leans back, stretching his arms across the top of the seat. “I’m right here.”
It takes everything in me to resist wrapping my hands around his throat until he’s blue in the fucking face.
Leaning down, I quietly speak in his ear. “You made your point this morning. You won, okay? Don’t make a scene. Not here. Not now.”
When I pull back, I notice his gaze is focused on Madison again. Without a word, he braces his hands on the table and stands up.
“I’ll be back,” I tell her.
She smiles awkwardly back at me.
DeLuca leads me to the corner of the bar. He leans against the wall, but his eyes are still on Madison.
“Listen,” I start, then sigh, trying to find the words. “I don’t know what you want from me, but whatever it is, I’ll give it to you. Like you said, I need to prove myself, right?”
Slowly, his eyes move to mine. He crosses his arms and nods.
I continue, “From the beginning you told me how it was, and maybe I haven’t been treating you with the respect you deserve. I’ll fix it. We need to make this work. You know I want to fight. You know I need to fight.”
A cocky smirk takes over his face.
My fists ball at my sides, but I rein it in. “Just please leave her out of it. I don’t want her involved, and I don’t want her to see this side of me. I need to protect her from all of this.” It’s all a lie. Everything but how I feel about Madison.
His smirk disappears, replaced with something I can’t decipher. His eyes trail back to Madison. “Okay, man,” DeLuca mumbles. “Fresh start.” He throws out his hand. I force myself to shake it. He adds, “We start tonight.” Then he kicks off the wall, makes his way over to our table, and sits back down.
And I have no fucking choice but to let him.
“Everything okay?” Madison asks as I get seated.
“It’s fine.” I pick up her hand and kiss her palm, then hold it on the table so DeLuca understands. It’s a sign—he needs to know that I’m not fucking around, especially when it comes to Madison. And if he keeps looking at her the way he is, the next sign he’ll get is my fist to his fucking jaw.
He glares at our joined hands.
I clear my throat. “DeLuca, this is Madison—Madison, DeLuca.”
“Madison,” he says, but it comes out a question. She nods; her lips pursed. His gaze flicks to our joined hands again. Then he rubs his thumb across his bottom lip as his eyes move back to her. She lets out a whimper from deep in her throat. I hate that he makes her uncomfortable. He continues, “Well, Madison, you can call me Nate.”
She fakes a smile and squeezes my hand to get my attention. “We didn’t eat. I’m a little hungry.”
DeLuca raises his hand to get the waiter’s attention. “They have awesome burgers here.”
“Where’s Jackson?” she asks me.
“He got a call. Emergency. Had to leave.”
“That sucks. We’ll have to catch up with him again soon.”
I kiss her cheek, thankful she’s thinking of the next time.
DeLuca orders our burgers and spends the next ten minutes ignoring me and giving Madison his full attention. He asks her questions I’ve never thought of asking. Like what TV shows she watches, what music she’s listening to, if she likes any restaurants or take-out joints in our area. She answers each one enthusiastically, and he listens to her intently.
Their conversation ends when the food arrives. “Oh my god,” Madison mumbles. “This looks so good!”
I laugh, watching her pick up the burger and bring it to her mouth. She makes a sound that almost has my cock twitching. “This tastes amazing, Ky,” she moans. She picks up a napkin and covers her mouth while she finishes chewing. “Where have you been all my life?” she says to the burger.
I glance over at DeLuca, but he isn’t laughing. He’s staring right at her—frowning.
I clear my throat to get his attention. His eyes snap to mine. He glimpses once more at Madison before standing up. “I’ll leave you guys to it.” He throws a wad of cash on the table and says, “I’ll call you, Parker. Madison, it’s been an absolute pleasure.” Then he walks away, leaving his plate completely untouched.
11
KY
I KNOW IT’S Madison knocking without having to open the door. She has this specific knock. Three taps. All quiet. All timid. Kind of like her.
I open the door with a smile; one that she returns. “You’re crazy about me, aren’t you?”
With a shrug, she pushes past me and makes herself comfortable on the couch. “How was the gym?” she asks.
“I got slaughtered,” I tell her truthfully. After taking my anger out on Gunner a few days ago, he’d decided to pay me back. Only he, or maybe even DeLuca, felt it necessary to call in a favor. I’d recognized the guy from one of the many pictures hanging in the gym walls. He’d told me his next fight was set a month from now as a contender for the UFC middleweight title. He was a weight class below me, but that didn’t matter. He’d sure as fuck made it known that he was better than me¸ and I’d had no choice but to accept it.
Gunner—he’d loved every damn second of it. So did DeLuca as he’d half watched from the sidelines—too busy switching from his laptop to his phone to pay full attention.
I’d called Jax when I was done and told him about it.
“We need to get access to his computer,” he’d said. “Whatever he’s doing—that’s our ticket.”
I’d told him that it was on him at all times, and when it wasn’t, it was locked up and with Tiny.
That’d got him excited. “Leave it with me,” he’d said, before hanging up.
“You look fine,” Madison says, bringing me back to the present. Her brow bunches as she looks me up and down.
“Yeah?” I make my way over to her. “You should see my ribs.”
She sits up a little straighter. “Show me.”
I lift my shirt, revealing what’s no doubt the beginning of some heavy-set bruises.
“You need to ice it...” she murmurs. She reaches up, the back of her fingers slowly skimming the sensitive areas. And then they move past my ribs and slowly down my stomach. She chews her lip as her single finger traces the dips of my abs. Her mouth parts slightly, her eyes fixed. Her breaths are short now, coming out in tiny spurts. My eyes focus on her breasts as they heave up and down, up and down...It’s only a few seconds, but the warmth of her hand on my bare skin amplifies each and every one. Then she blinks and, as if realizing what she’s been doing, yanks her hand away. “Ice,” she whispers, getting up and moving to the fridge. When she returns a moment later, I’m already sitting on the couch, my shirt off. She hands me an ice pack and moves far, far away from me. So far, she’s at the front door again. “I’ll come back later.”
“No, stay,” I rush out. “Give me ten minutes to ice, five to shower, and we can head out.”
“Why do you do it? Train to fight, I mean.”
The first time she asked what I did with my days; I hesitated to tell her truth. But I figured if I just tell her what I did—and kept the reason to myself, it would be enough. And it was. Until now.
I let out a pained groan and ignore her question. “What did you have planned for today?”
“So you’re not going to tell me why?”
I sigh and motion for her to sit back down next to me, giving me time to come up with a response.
“So?” she asks.
“I have some issues I’m dealing with,” I tell her, which isn’t actually that far from the truth. “Punching things in a controlled environment—it helps clear my head.”
She stares me down, probably deciding whether or not to run. “Okay,” she sa
ys. Then shrugs. “Anything you want to do today?”
I release a breath, relieved that it’s enough. “You know I’m happy as long as I’m with you.” So I’m turning up my charm, but it’s not a lie. This has been our routine for the last three days since that shit happened with DeLuca.
I’d hit the gym for a few hours in the mornings, and then I’d come home and a few minutes later, she’d knock on my door. We’d spend the next few hours doing whatever she wanted, until I had to leave for therapy or another gym session. Then we’d repeat the process. Only we’d have dinner together, somewhere new every night.
Yesterday, when I got back from my morning training session, she was waiting for me in the foyer. And I loved that she was. I asked her what she’d been doing, and she told me that she’d just been waiting for me. That thought alone had me wanting to hit the emergency stop button on the elevator and pinning her to the wall, flooding her with kisses.
I didn’t.
Later on, she admitted that she had a hard time leaving the apartment alone. She said she had anxiety in crowds and felt safe with me, but then quickly changed the subject.
Like always.
We don’t do much as far as activity—she just loves being outside, regardless of what we’re doing. And she likes to breathe—and as weird as that sounds—I have no other way of explaining it. When we’re out, I’d often catch her stopping just to take a breath. Sometimes it was to smell the air, but other times, it seemed like she was just appreciating the ability to breathe.
To anyone else, she might seem a little crazy. To me—she’s kind of breathtaking. Literally.
She also asks a lot of questions but doesn’t offer much in return. And I think I’m okay with that...for now.
“So do you actually enjoy training?”
I shrug, moving the ice pack to my other side. “It keeps me in check. Keeps me disciplined.”
“How long were you deployed for?”