My mother was a hard ass. We got along if you considered not talking often as getting along. When we did talk, it was mainly about her work since she basically ignored my fighting career.
Fine by me. I didn’t need or particularly want my mother’s approval.
Once I found the driver, I gave him directions to my storage unit just outside the city. He gave me a look like it was the last thing he wanted to do, but I slipped him a twenty and hopped into the back.
Apparently, that was enough. We were on the road, heading toward my destination.
The plan was simple. I had a bunch of shit kept at the storage unit, the most important of which was my motorcycle. I’d drop my bag off there and take the bike over to my mother’s new husband’s place, pay my respects, and then be done with that.
The sooner I got it over with, the sooner I could find a cheap room and get back in the fighting game.
We made it to the unit with no problem, and I had the driver drop me off. He clearly had instructions to drag me to Cindy himself, but I wasn’t some kid he could just order around. I gave him a nod and walked into the storage facility, leaving him stuck outside.
The unit was right where I left it. I unlocked the door and found everything exactly as I wanted it to be.
I smiled to myself and took a deep breath. It was finally feeling like home.
I didn’t have much time to waste, though. I got changed and looked over my bike, satisfied that it was in pretty good condition despite having sat around for the better part of a year.
I hopped on and kicked it started, moving slowly out toward the exit. The bike made a deep hum as I rode it through traffic. I was running a little late, but that couldn’t be helped. I passed a few slow cars in the right lane and wove my way over to the left, dodging in and out, loving the feeling of the speed and the power between my legs. The only things better were fighting and fucking.
Finally, I pulled up outside an expensive-looking brownstone, the sort of thing only millionaires could afford in San Francisco. That made sense, since I couldn’t imagine Cindy marrying anyone with less than a few million in the bank. She wasn’t a gold digger, not at all. She had her own money. Rather, she was attracted to power, and money brought power, at least according to people like her.
I knew better than that. Real power came from training your body, pushing it to its limits. Real power was mastering yourself and your opponents.
As I cut the bike’s engine and climbed off, three people emerged out onto the stoop. Instantly I recognized my mother and her stern expression. She was clearly pissed off that I was late and had ditched the car. My new stepfather looked pretty typical, like your classic old and white business CEO, not too fit but not flabby either. He had a warm smile on his face.
And finally, my gaze fell on her.
I had a brief moment of full-on shock as my eyes ran up and down her body.
It was her, my paradise bride. Alexa, the girl I hadn’t stopped dreaming about ever since I went to train in the jungle.
How was that fucking possible?
Everyone was looking at me, and so I had to get my shit together pretty fast. I took a deep breath and pulled off my helmet, ignoring the girl for the time being.
But she clearly recognized me, because she looked like she had seen a ghost as soon as my face was visible to her.
She remembered me, then. Not a surprise considering how hard I had made her body come over and over, but still. It had been a long time, and I did look different. I was harder, darker, and stronger than the last time I had seen her.
When I shook her hand, I knew she was on the verge of passing out. Cindy quickly ushered everyone inside to have lunch, and as we moved toward the kitchen, Alex hung back.
I stared at her body, at the familiar curves, but most of all at her angry expression.
The girl was fucking pissed, and I had no clue why.
Sure, I fucked her and left, but that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t tell her about the training because what was the point? It was a vacation fling, and we both knew it. It was an absolutely batshit crazy coincidence that our parents had gotten married, but that sort of shit happened all the time. It wasn’t like I knew anything about it.
Except she looked like she was about to have a fucking heart attack.
“You know,” she said loudly, “I’ve always wanted to see a motorcycle up close.”
The group stopped walking. “Honey, can’t that wait?” her dad said.
“Why don’t you two get everything ready while Cole here shows me his bike?”
I grinned at her. What a fucking flimsy excuse. “Sure thing. It’d be my pleasure,” I said, overly formal.
My mother scowled. “Okay,” she said. “Make it quick.”
I followed Alex back out the front door. As soon as it shut, she whirled on me like a demon, spitting rage and fire from her eyes.