McQUEEN:Las Vegas Bad Boys(22)

Sighing, I consider my options. The longer I wait to tell her, the worse it will end. Friends don’t get married and just forget to mention it.

“If I tell you, do you swear not to go batshit on me?”

“I swear.”

“I’m getting married.”

“What the actual fuck?”

I sit next to her on a barstool and try to explain the arranged marriage to Grotto.

“He gets out in a week. And then we’re getting married.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. I don’t really know any of the details and, to be honest, I don’t really care. We’ll go to a courthouse and he’ll take me to his family compound.”

Lucy gives a long, slow whistle. “Damn. I mean, I know you’re family is all gangsta ... but this? Jo ... this is sort of insane.”

I shake my head. “I knew you’d judge me. That’s why I never said anything.”

She squints her eyes in disapproval. “But why would you agree to this?”

“My family needs me to do this. It’s like ... an alliance with another family.”

“What year is this, Jo?” She scoffs. “Girl, I mean … family is family, but you don’t have to marry someone against your will.”

“It’s not against my will. My dad asked me to do this, and I said yes. Willingly.” Even as I say the words, though, I know it isn’t the absolute truth. No one asked for my opinion on the matter, no one considered my thoughts or feelings when they made the arrangement.

“It’s marriage, though. Do you even know this guy?”

“Not really. But I trust my dad and my brothers. They would never put me in a situation where I might get hurt.”

At this, Lucy jumps from the stool and starts pacing the room.

“Might be hurt? What the hell? Maybe you won’t get hurt, but will you be happy? Is this why you aren’t at the gym? Aren’t sleeping with McQueen?”

“McQueen isn’t waiting around for me. I was a distraction. A one-off. Nothing real. So yes, I’ve put McQueen behind me. And I’m getting over the fact that I’m done training at the gym. I need to be practical.”

“And marrying a stranger is totally practical.” She rolls her eyes, just like I do at my brothers, and I realize it was stupid of me to try and explain this to her.

“Look, my life isn’t bad. Look around. My family is loaded. I’ll never need anything, never need to work, never struggle. Grotto and I can make a nice life together. It isn’t the worst thing in the world to have your needs met.”

Lucy stops pacing; I see the tears in her eyes, and I realize then just how much she cares for me. This isn’t a joke, or something to laugh about. This is my life.

“Mary has everything, JoJo, and she isn’t happy. Her needs aren’t being met. You’ve never been out to meet my family in California, and I understand you’ve grown up in this sort of household, but this isn’t the only way to live.”

The air in the kitchen is heavy. Justice’s swing creaks as it moves back and forth. Swaying against the words Lucy and I share, holding back the tears in the corner of my eyes.

I look around Mary’s house, biting my lip. Knowing the words that I’ve told Lucy aren’t anything like the way I really feel, deep down. But what use is saying the truth? “I can’t walk away from this. From them.”

“You shouldn’t walk,” she says. “JoJo, you should run.”

I look up, surprised. Before I can say any more the phone rings again. Kit.

“Answer it,” Lucy says. “For me.”

I wipe away my almost-tears and answer the call, putting it on speakerphone.

“JoJo, honey,” Kit says. “I’ve been trying to get through all day.”

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“More than okay, girl. I got what you wanted. A fight. A real one. Someone just got injured and I got you on the ticket.”

I look across the kitchen island at Lucy, whose tear-stained face is now covered with a smile.

Maybe I won’t be running or walking anywhere. Maybe I just need to stop and fight. Fight for my life.





Chapter Sixteen





McQUEEN


I’m at Kit’s, finishing a workout, when I see her.

Fuck, she’s gotten hotter in the week since she gave me the lap dance of my life. Now she’s in tight-ass shorts and a sports bra, her gorgeous tits squeezed together. I just want to run my hands all over her skin, pull that spandex down, and smack her round little ass.

Instead, I turn away, plant my fist on the punching bag again and again, trying to get the sting of rejection out with repetition.

It doesn’t work, because the next thing I know, she’s beside me. I see her feet planted firmly on the floor. My eyes inch up her toned legs, past her thighs that straddled me. I let my eyes roll over her covered pussy and barely-covered tits, and then I land on her eyes.

And I swear, even with all the gorgeous parts of her body, they have nothing on her searing beauty. On her fucking perfect sweetheart face. And she’s not smirking, not strutting. Not playing me like the fool I am. This girl is one hundred percent genuine. It’s like she knows she hurt my fucking feelings and knows how to fix my bruises. She’s looking at me like she wants to heal them.

Fuck me now, woman. That’s what I want to say. Get on your knees, honey. That’s what I’m thinking. Bend over, sweetie; let me show you what you walked away from. That’s what I want to whisper in her ear.

But I don’t. Maybe because I’m a man-whore or maybe because I was born and raised to be an all-American asshole. I don’t know. I don’t feel like being a goddamn gentleman. I feel like being rough, the same way she was with me. I feel like being petty, I feel like being cold. I feel like showing her she doesn’t mean anything at all.

Even though she does. Dammit, she means everything.

“Ryan,” she says. Her eyes are waiting for an answer, an answer I can’t fucking give her. What does she want now? Showing up here after walking away and thinking it’s gonna be okay? I don’t work like that, like a machine that can be turned on and off. I’m no robot; I’m a fucking man.

“Can you stop,” she says, reaching to stop the bag I’m pounding because I can’t pound her.

“Goddammit, JoJo, what do you want?” I ask, pulling the gloves off my hands and throwing them to the ground. I wipe my brow with the back of my hand. Using it to shield my emotions from getting anywhere close enough for this girl to see.

She steps back, her eyes wide. I’ve never shouted at her. But things changed when she walked away from me.

“Sorry. I just….” She shrugs. And once again I’m reminded that this girl with a body of steel, with a rock solid frame, is fucking fragile inside, broken inside. Confused as hell inside. And I may be a lot of shitty things, but I can’t wreck her more.

“What is it?” I cross my arms, not trusting them anywhere else. And I clench my jaw because I don’t trust that either, don’t trust myself to stop from growling at her or biting her.

Or kissing her. Mostly that.

“I wanted to talk,” she says.

“About?”

“About the other night? At the club. When my broth—”

“I fucking know what night, JoJo.”

“Oh, right. Well. I’m just sorry about how it ended with us. And then I thought about calling you, but I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“Make what worse?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. Trying to play it so damn cool, but knowing if I keep it this frigid I’m gonna ice her out for good.

The gym is clearing out for the afternoon closure. She reaches for my arm and I remember what she and I did together the last time this gym was empty. What I’d like to do again.

“I know there was something between us,” she says, “and I didn’t mean to lead you on. You know, if you thought this was going somewhere.”

I shake my head slowly. “So that’s it? You came over to me to apologize for walking away?”

She bites her lip, exasperated, and I see tears in her eyes. For a second that makes me feel like shit, before I remember she’s doing this all to herself. I never asked her to fucking go. She’s the one who left.

“I thought you were done with this gym, done with fighting?”

“I was. But then Kit called. He got me a pro fight. So I thought....” She shrugs, and I don’t see a speck of confidence in her. No grit. The stuff that she was made of when I first met her. The stuff she’ll need if she’s going to go through with a professional fight. All I see is a shell.

“Anyways,” she continues. “I decided to give it a go. It’s only two weeks away.”

“And your family, they know?”

“Not exactly. But after the night at the club, we talked, and they’ve given me some time to do my own thing, with the condition that it’s not a permanent change.”

I snort. “Right. Gotta make sure you listen to the boss.”

“Don’t be like that, Ryan. Please.”

“How do you want me to be?” I ask, taking her by the wrist and pulling her aside. The place is near empty, but I want to be completely alone with her.

I pull her into the women’s locker room. It’s empty, like it was before. Kit made sure this place was safe; no one can watch us here now.