Inked Fighter: Complete Collection (MMA MC New Adult Romance) (20 page)

“What about you?” she whispered teasingly as she ran her hand over my firm cock.

“I don’t want to make love to you for the first time standing in the shower.”

She didn’t stop stroking. I groaned into her shoulder and gripped her breast. Even with her inexperience, she instinctively knew exactly what would drive me crazy. Her momentum increased as her hand glided up and down.

It didn’t take long before my balls clenched under me and my body tensed in impending release. A volcano of desire rushed from inside of me and exploded in her hand. I pulled her against my chest and held her under the water.

“Oh Claire,” I said. “I don’t ever want to be away from you again.”

Chapter Four: Claire

I woke entangled in his arms. For the first time in a very long time, I felt safe. I watched his face and the rise and fall of his hard chest as he slept beside me. Snuggling into him, I listened to the sound of his heartbeat. His warm musky scent soothed me with the knowledge of his presence.

He kissed my forehead, caressed my arm, and then cupped my face with his hand. I took a deep satisfied breath, adoring the feeling of having him beside me. It was better than I imagined. My body tingled from the night before and I squeezed my legs together in remembrance.

He pulled me into him and turned over on top of me. Rose stirred in her crib and I pushed him away. There would be time for this later, in private.

After jumping out of bed, I lifted Rose up and took care of her immediate needs. Damien sat against the headboard and watched me. His eyes were calm and protective. I smiled, feeling loved under his gaze. He threw off the covers and went to the bathroom while I finished getting Rose ready.

He came out dressed, his short hair still wet from the shower. He sat on the bed and pulled on his boots.

“Zoe said Regan is in the hospital.”

“Yes. That’s why I’m here. She was under a ninety-six-hour psychiatric evaluation. I’ve been working with the DA to get her court date coordinated with her release.”

Damien looked at me with pity in his eyes. “What’s next?”

“The trial is today. Zoe’s coming down to give testimony. We want to get her mandatory treatment instead of going to jail. I honestly believe it’s the only way to get her life back on track. I hate to force her into a psychiatric hospital, but I also feel like if I don’t do it, she’s going to end up in and out of jail or possibly dead.”

“I can give testimony too. I had to take her off the bar at The Clutch because she was chucking bottles at everyone and speaking gibberish.”

“You never told me about that.”

Anger surged in me for a split second but dissolved quickly. I wrapped my arms around him and sat in his lap. He pulled me into him and breathed into my neck. “I’ll never lie to you again,” he whispered.

“I know.”

I slipped from his lap and went to shower. I came out dressed for court in a navy skirt suit with a cream-colored top. Damien still had blood on his shirt. That was not going to work for court.

“We need to get you some clean clothes. There’s a clothing store up the street; we can stop there before we eat.”

I picked up Rose, my purse, and her stroller, and Damien helped me carry all my things out to my new clunker of a car. He looked at it and raised an eyebrow.

“I know, but I had to get something.”

After breakfast, we went to the clothing store. I rolled Rose down the aisle as I followed Damien. He picked out a few things and went to try them on.

He came out of the dressing room wearing black slacks, a white shirt, and a black tie. His broad shoulders and chest filled out the shirt, making him look sexier than ever. The black tie just didn’t seem to work. He needed something more subtle.

I handed him a steel gray tie. He pulled off the one he wore and put on the new one. It looked better. He grabbed a black suit jacket off the rack and pulled it over his shoulders. I looked at him in the business wear and felt my knees go soft.

I could see a hint of his tattoos when his cuffs moved back. The effect was extremely hot. He slipped his feet into a pair of dress shoes to finish the look. We pulled the tags from his new outfit and took it to the counter. The woman at the counter looked him up and down with puckered lips. I had to smile. Damien shoved his hand over his hair and handed her the tags.

Outside in the sun, we piled back into the car and drove to the courthouse. I wheeled Rose down the brightly polished laminate floors and met Zoe and the prosecuting attorney outside the courtroom. I explained to him that Damien could provide additional testimony, and he agreed to call Damien if the defense okayed it.

It felt bad, opposing my sister in court. There just didn’t seem to be another way. The DA had been willing to listen to me about Regan’s need for treatment. After reading her past history, he agreed to help.

Regan approached the courtroom door. Dread filled my stomach. She looked good. Zoe had brought her an outfit from home, and she wore it. She had her hair pulled back in a tight bun and away from her face. Her eyes looked clear but tired.

Damien put his arm around my shoulder.  Zoe and I exchanged a pity-filled glance. Who wants to commit their own sister? A hard lump settled in my stomach, blocking my breakfast from digesting. I felt I might vomit at any moment.

Before we went into the courtroom, it was agreed that we would take turns watching Rose outside. Damien and I went in with the prosecuting attorney and waited for the judge.

Regan’s doctor came in and sat beside me just before the judge entered the courtroom. Everyone rose. The jury was already seated and stood when the judge approached the bench. The bailiff said we could sit and everyone sat back down.

My stomach did flip-flops as a cool sweat trickled down my side. My hair was tied back and suddenly felt exceedingly uncomfortable. I fidgeted in my seat while the opening statements were read. Damien grasped my damp hand and gave me a reassuring smile.

The charges of DUI, grand theft auto, and driving without a license were read. The judge looked at the documents submitted by both parties and asked what the defendant pled to the charges. Regan’s attorney said she pled no contest, meaning she didn’t admit or deny anything.

The prosecutor went on to state Regan’s past DUI charges, her recent suicide attempt, and prior stay in a psychiatric facility, as well as the fact that she was an active drug addict and not taking medication for her illness. The toxicology report from her arrest was read aloud.

We all took turns giving testimony. After a brief break, we reconvened to hear the verdict.  Zoe and I sat together in the courtroom and waited for the judge and jury to enter. My heart thumped in my chest, and I gripped Zoe’s hand. I could see the back of Regan’s head bowed over the desk.

We stood as the judge entered the room, and sat to hear the verdict. The judge asked the jury what they had decided and the presiding juror stood. He had a scowl on his face when he looked at the paper. He glanced at me and Zoe and then looked at the judge.

“We find the defendant guilty as charged.”

“Thank you, jury. I sentence the defendant to a mandatory four months in the Mendocino psychiatric rehabilitation facility. At the discretion of her doctors, she can be released up to one month early or held up to two months longer. Sentence starts today.” She hit her gavel and dismissed the case.

The security officers led Regan out of the courtroom as the judge left the bench. Regan looked over her shoulder at me. Her face was wounded and scared. My heart felt stuck in my throat. I wanted to beg for her forgiveness. I couldn’t do that now. She probably wouldn’t listen to me. Maybe she would hate me forever, but at least I’d done all I could for her.

I turned away, shame filling my chest. Zoe pulled me out of the courtroom. Her expression was set like stone. She took me aside and held me by the shoulders while she stared me down.

“Look, Claire. We won. Stop beating yourself up.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t help feeling like crap about the whole thing.

Chapter Five: Damien

I followed Claire’s car up highway 101. The Parker girls deserved a good life, even Regan. I was glad I could help Claire at the trial. I knew it was hard for her, standing up against Regan to make her do something she didn’t want to do. It was all for the best; that girl needed to get clean.

When we passed the clubhouse on the way to town, I noticed the Devil’s Dozen bikes still parked in the parking lot. That was bullshit. We’d won the fight fair and square. The agreement was they would leave.

We rumbled into town, and I stopped in front of my shop to call Claire. “Hey, baby, I need to take care of some business here in town. I’ll be over later. Okay?”

“All right. See you then.”

I dialed Martel’s number and waited for him to answer while I paced in front of the shop. There was a note taped to the front door, and I pulled it off and unfolded it.

Martel answered the phone, “What’s going on, kid?”

“Stop calling me kid, old man. Why is the Devil’s Dozen still at the clubhouse?” I felt anger surge into my voice. I unfolded the note and read the choppy handwriting.

“Bad move,” was all it said.

“I’m working on it,” said Martel.

“Working on what? You told me this fight was going to solve everything. Now what?”

“Callahan has other ‘demands’ that he expects us to agree to before he’ll leave.”

“Other demands, huh? Sounds a lot like you. When will this end?”

“I understand you’re pissed, son. Try to stay calm. Come over to my house and we’ll talk.”

I cringed when he called me “son.” He hadn’t earned the right to call me that. He still hadn’t told me where I could find my mother. I got back on my bike and rode to his place, up the hill, to the east of town. I found his enormous two-story farmhouse sitting behind a man-made pond and acres of manicured lawns and gardens.

I parked my bike and went to the front door centered on a wraparound porch. An attractive woman in her early forties with long black hair came to the door carrying a hairy little dog.

“Come in, Damien, it’s nice to finally meet you.” The little dog shivered at me as I passed. I found Martel sitting near a sliding glass door that looked out over rolling green lawns and an expansive view of the valley below.

“Nice place,” I said.

“We like it.”

I sat across from him in a comfortable armchair and glanced at his trim wife as she moved around the kitchen in cut-off jean shorts and bare feet. I looked back at Martel.

“What does Callahan want?”

“He wants an in with the pot growers around here. He basically wants to replace me as their protector so he can take my cut and have wholesale distribution into the central valley.”

“From what I understand, these families would never go for that.”

“No, they won’t.”

The dog ran to Martel’s booted foot and jumped in his lap. He petted the furry little creature with his big hand and looked out the window.

“The Black Blades have built decades of trust with the people of this area. We can’t be replaced, but this current incident is leading many people to believe we aren’t up for the job anymore. I already have people backing away, not returning my calls. There is a lot of fear. People’s livelihoods are at stake. Whole families are at stake. No one wants to see violence, but they don’t want to have their crops stolen either.”

“There has to be a middle ground.”

“Callahan is contending for total control. I’ve offered to hook him up with wholesale, but that isn’t enough for him. He wants it all.”

“Tell him it isn’t going to happen.”

“I have.”

I raised my hands in exasperation and leaned back in the chair. Martel needed to handle this guy more firmly or the whole town would be lost.

“I’ve got a meeting with him in an hour. You can come with me. Know how to shoot a gun?”

“Since I was ten.”

We went to his black Range Rover, drove to the highway, and continued north until we passed Redwood Park. We turned into the park road, then pulled up a narrow service road that crested on a bald hill. Another SUV was already waiting.

Wind whipped over the exposed hillside as sun glared down on the yellow waving grass. I got out of the car with a pistol tucked in the back of my jeans. Callahan was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a bald head and a beer belly. I remembered him from the fights. To his right stood a massive dude who was twice my size, wearing all black and a chest holster rig with two guns.

“Martel. You brought your fighter. How appropriate. I have an offer for you, young man.”

I stood there with a bored look on my face. I doubted he had anything I would want. I gripped my hips in my hands and squinted at him, cocking my head to the side.

“What is your offer?” asked Martel.

“I’d like him to come fight with me.”

“What?” Damian asked, stunned.

“And if he does?”

“He will get the benefits of fighting for me.” Callahan smiled, showing a gold tooth among his straight white teeth.

“I’m not interested,” said Damien.

Martel glared at me and snapped his gaze back to Callahan. “There has to be some benefit for him. And he has to agree.”

“You are entitled to five percent of the house total winnings if you win. That isn’t a small sum, young man. The last take from a fight was fifty thousand dollars.”

“Twenty-five hundred for one win? Still not worth it. I have to train, travel. I make a good living at my tattoo shop. I’m fine. How about you and your goons get the hell out of Dodge before we call the cops on your asses?”

Martel grimaced and Callahan sneered. “I’ve been extremely patient with you, Martel.”

“The kid has a point. We don’t have any illegal dealings in this town. Our relationships with the growers are personal. They are like family to us. We could stop working with them and our income streams would not be impacted. Whereas you, you deal exclusively in illegal practices. Just tipping off the cops about your little fight club and gambling den would get you at least a few years.”

Callahan growled. His bodyguard crossed his massive arms menacingly. “Come now, Martel, I’d hate to see you end up lifeless in a dumpster somewhere.”

“All right, dude. You want weed, we’ve got weed. But you’re going to have to go through us first. We can get you the best chronic on the redwood coast at cost. We have the relationships with the growers. It’s taken decades to cultivate them. You aren’t going to be able to replace us. Period.

“I’m sure even you can see your position is almost impossible if you want to quietly deal dope out of this town. No one will work with you. You’d have to go in and burn people’s crops and pillage their homes to scare them shitless enough to deal with a thug from the valley. That kind of shit doesn’t go unnoticed by the authorities. Take the deal or get the fuck out.”

The bodyguard went for one of his guns, but I yanked mine from the waist of my jeans and pointed before he had a chance to pull his out. I had him in my sights. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing except that I was getting really tired of all this sidestepping bullshit. I wanted to go home to Claire and hold her in my arms. These fuckers were standing in the way of my happy life.

I pointed the gun at the bodyguard’s face, and he lowered his weapon to the ground.

“The kid has spunk, I’ll give him that,” said Callahan. His hands were in a mocking posture of surrender. I pointed my gun from one man to the other while Martel stared at me blankly. I cocked the pistol.

“Do we have a deal?”

“Yeah, we have a deal. You make a good case.”

“Call your boys and tell them to get the fuck out of our clubhouse.” I continued pointing the gun while he reached his hand around his back to pull a phone from his back pocket.

“Don’t freak out. It’s just the phone.” The man dialed and gave someone instructions to leave the clubhouse. He hung up and looked back at me. “See, I’m a reasonable man. Now put the gun down.”

“In your dreams.”

“Martel, control your kid.”

“Stop calling me kid. Just get the hell out of here and don’t come back.”

“I’d listen to him if I were you,” said Martel. 

Callahan looked from me to Martel and back again. He could tell I was serious. I’d had enough. I was tired. I wanted to go home. He finally put his hands up.

“Fine. Martel, we’ll iron out the details later.” They got in their SUV and drove away.

“Now, about my mother.”