Jagger (Caldwell Brothers #1) - M.J. Fields & Chelsea Camaron

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Jagger is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. A Loveswept Ebook Original Copyright © 2016 by MJ Fields and Chelsea Camaron Excerpt from Possession by Violetta Rand copyright © 2016 by Violetta Rand All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New Y ork. LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC. This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Possession by Violetta Rand. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition. eBook ISBN 9781101968017 Cover design: Caroline Teagle Cover photograph: © Y uri_Arcurs/Getty Images randomhousebooks.com v4.1 ep

Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Epigraph

Prologue: Jagger Chapter 1: Jagger Chapter 2: Tatiana Chapter 3: Jagger Chapter 4: Tatiana Chapter 5: Jagger Chapter 6: Tatiana Chapter 7: Jagger Chapter 8: Tatiana Chapter 9: Jagger Chapter 10: Tatiana Chapter 11: Jagger Chapter 12: Tatiana Chapter 13: Jagger Chapter 14: Tatiana Chapter 15: Jagger Chapter 16: Tatiana Chapter 17: Jagger Chapter 18: Tatiana Chapter 19: Jagger Chapter 20: Tatiana Chapter 21: Jagger Chapter 22: Tatiana Chapter 23: Jagger Chapter 24: Tatiana Chapter 25: Jagger Chapter 26: Tatiana Chapter 27: Jagger

Chapter 28: Tatiana Chapter 29: Jagger Epilogue: Tatiana Dedication By MJ Fields and Chelsea Camaron About the Authors The Editor’s Corner Excerpt from Possession

Fist to face. Hit by hit, I’ll take them all. Every day is a new round. Ring the bell. I will not submit. Tapping out is not an option. Fight till I win. —Jagger Caldwell

Prologue

Jagger With paper-thin walls and a bastard next door, I hear the whimpers, the slaps, the crashing of shit in the apartment beside mine. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard the noises in the six months since I moved in. After Momma died, home wasn’t home, I needed the escape. The apartment complex isn’t upscale by any means. No, it’s a dive. What the hell do I need to live in some nice-ass place for? I’m only here to shit, shower, and sleep. Standing at my door, I grip the handle, knowing I need to hold back. This will become another trip to lockup, another case against me. I give my lawyer more of my winnings these days than I get to keep. Leaning my forehead against the door, I fight the memories of my old man, who used to toss Momma around. He tried to get to us boys, too, but she took the heat until Hendrix, and then Morrison, were big enough to step in. I gaze down at my bulging forearm as I struggle against opening the door, and the black and gray script of my tattoo dances as my muscles flex. Legacy. Momma asked us boys to be the legacy of good in a world full of bad. With that thought in mind and not a second thought to the consequences, I take off, storming toward the source of the noise and halt, realizing whose door it is. My landlord. Mr. Rand, the Russian motherfucker who pretends not to speak English when anyone tries to complain, yet who can certainly understand the language enough to have you sign on the dotted line and take your money. I feel the vibration of a body hitting the door on the other side, hear the whimper of a female, and I see red. Nothing matters except saving her. Once upon a time, I couldn’t save Momma, but I damn sure won’t be in that position again. I feel the door give as the weight is removed on the other side, allowing me to open it safely. As the door swings open, I’m not prepared for the rage that builds so rapidly inside me. The apartment is tidy, which is more than I can say for my own place. Although small, someone has put effort into keeping it clean and clutter-free. I watch as this frail young woman is tossed across the living room, and then she immediately gets up and runs down the hall, halting when she finds the end, and falls into the corner, planting herself against the wall. She curls into herself, her dark hair stringy and

matted in blood and tears that roll down her swollen face. Blood trickles down her nose and off her lips. Her right eye is swollen shut and multiple shades of red and purple. Her arms are skin and bones as she holds her knees to her chest. When she lifts her head, I see the welts across her neck. She looks up at me with the one dark-brown eye she can open. It’s so glassed over in tears I’m not sure she can even see me. There is a slight shake of her head I assume is an effort to stop me. Her mouth opens and closes slowly, but no words come out. I sense movement beside me, and that’s when I see the bear of a man who is my landlord lunging at her, the belt in his hand swinging wildly over his head. He’s a dark-haired, beerbellied asshole with one giant chip on his shoulder. Without hesitation, I storm toward him, crashing us into the wall, and pictures fall as the place rattles from the impact. “You wanna pick on little girls, huh? Why don’t you try out a real man for size?” I grab him by his shirt collar and shake him as the anger consumes me. I can smell the alcohol on him. Cheap bourbon is his poison. I draw back and slam my fist down into his face as he paws at me. Then I kick out at his knees, bringing him to the ground. Straddling him, I pound away at his head, face, and torso while he lies under me, swinging at air, grasping for anything as I continue my onslaught. I feel the burn in my knuckles as they bust open on his jaw. Lights out, motherfucker. He goes limp, yet I can’t stop the last few hits from being thrown before standing up and taking a step back to look at my prey. His face is immediately swelling, and I’m pretty sure I broke his jaw and nose. Blood runs out of the corner of one eye, over his nose, and down his ear. Maybe next time he will think of this before he puts his hands on her. Her. I look over to his victim. She looks so much like a younger version of him that the resemblance is uncanny. I just beat the hell out of her father who, from the looks of her frail body and the scar on her cheek, beats the hell out of her on a regular basis. Fucking bastard. As my eyes meet hers, I get lost in the depth of emotion coming from the overly large, dark circle of the eye I can see. Going over to her, I extend my hand. She takes it, her small fingers cold as they slide into the warmth of mine, and I pull her up. Instinctively, I pull her into me and hold her close for a moment. She tenses in my embrace, but I continue to comfort her, running my large hand over her mess of dark tangles before I kiss the top of her head and release her. Reaching in my back pocket, I pull out my wallet and then a business card before I put my wallet back in place and look at her. She stares at me, wide-eyed and wild. The blood is drying on her face, so I take her by the hand and walk her to the kitchen sink. Leaving the card on the countertop, I wash my hands, cringing as the soap stings my open knuckles. After letting my blood wash down the drain, I wet a paper towel, then tenderly wipe around her swollen eye and then her tear-filled one. Her skeleton-like fingers come up and wrap around my wrist as I clean up under her nose and ever so gently wipe her lips. I hear the grunt of her father waking—my exit cue. It’s time to go before we have round two.

“He’ll most likely be angry, but too exhausted to fight you. Let him sleep it off while you find a way to get the hell out.” I point at the business card as I say, “If you need anything, call me at Caldwell’s.” Hastily, I kiss her forehead, hating to leave her behind to clean up my mess yet knowing, if she’s going to leave, it has to be on her terms. That is the one thing I learned from my momma. Neither hell nor high water would make her give up everything she had worked for, even if she lived in the worst nightmare day in and day out. “I have nowhere to go,” she whispers, causing my heart to beat loudly in my ears. “I just turned seventeen.” Fuck! This man is beating on a minor who is helpless to leave. What the hell have I gotten myself into now? “I’ll help you.” I pick up the card, placing it in her palm, then closing her tiny hand around it. “Name?” “Tatiana,” she whispers, and her dad stirs again. “Come with me. We can call the cops, and his ass can go to jail. Social services—” “You have to leave.” “But—” “Thank you,” she says, pulling her hand away before walking toward the open door. I follow her, though everything in my head is telling me to finish this asshole off. “Come with me, Tatiana. I swear I will help you.” She steps into the hall, and I think she is going to follow me. Hell, I want to pick her up and put her in my pocket so that fucker can never touch her again. Then she steps back inside and starts to close the door. “What are you doing?” I know the shock registers on my face. “I know where to find you.” As the door shuts, my stomach turns. I want to smash it open and take her away. Then I remember her words. Maybe she just has to grab some things. — I beat feet to the bar. I know she will show. I know she will. She has to. I walk in as Lola, the bartender, walks past me all teary-eyed. “Lost another one?” I laugh. “Maybe.” My brother Hendrix answers indifferently. “Seriously, bro, you need to learn to play nice with others.” So do other assholes in this ugly fucking world, I think as I look toward the window to see if she followed. “Look, unless you’re here to take on another night, step it up a bit. I don’t wanna hear shit.” “I liked Lola.” I sit down at the bar. “You hear heels clicking up the wooden stairs into the apartment?” I give him the what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about look. He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, and then I hear them.

“No shit?” Lola is in the apartment above the bar, the apartment our asshole father still lives in because Hendrix allows him to stay due to a promise to our dying momma. “Just found ’em in my fucking office. Told him a month ago when I caught him skimming from the till that he was out, not to step foot in my fucking place again, or he could pack his shit.” I shake my head and clench my fists. I fucking hate my father. Abusive assholes, I hate all of them. I look at the window. Come on, little Tatiana. Be brave. “What are you gonna do?” I ask Hendrix, still looking for the tiny little one. “He’s packing his shit.” “You for real, man?” That’s music to my ears, a win for the good guys. “As fucking real as terminal cancer.” Momma died of cancer, and although some people wouldn’t find that statement funny, we laugh since sometimes you have to find humor in your misfortune. Unfortunately, I am finding no motherfucking humor in the fact that Tatiana isn’t showing up. I wish someone would superglue my ass to this barstool because I know if she isn’t here in about ten minutes, I’m gonna fuck shit up. I look back at Hendrix. I know he’s fighting inside. He holds shit in, whereas I am a little less…introverted. I look up when the door opens to see Hendrix’s buddy Johnny, the cop. Fuck, I think to myself when I see the pissed-off look on his face, his angry eyes directed toward me. I know what’s next, so I make it easy on all of them and stand up. “Got bail?” I ask Hendrix. “You’re fucking joking, right?” He looks down at my knuckles and shakes his head. “Jagger, you know I have to take you in,” the pissed-off Johnny says. “You beat the shit out of your landlord.” “His kid was crying. Heard her through the wall, opened the door, and she’s running down the hall. Fucker came out chasing her with a belt.” “So you beat him to the ground?” Johnny asks, taking the cup of coffee Hendrix slides across the bar. “How about call 911? That’s my job, man. Now she’s so scared she’s not talking and won’t press charges—” “What do you mean, ‘won’t press charges’? She had switch marks across her goddamned neck, Johnny. She’s a fucking kid. She needs someone—” “She’s seventeen. Can’t make her do shit, you hear me?” Johnny states, then points to the door. “Restraining order, so now you got nowhere to live, and when the judge asks where you work, what are you gonna say? ‘I smash people up in abandoned warehouses while others stand around and watch’? It’s fucking illegal.” I am pissed, so fucking pissed. I should have just snatched her up and shoved her in my fucking pocket. “Nah, man, I got a job. I’m a motherfucking astronaut. Just got back from the moon last night. Shit looks good up there.” “Last time you told the judge you were a fucking OB-GYN apprentice, and that got you a week in county.”

I look at Hendrix. “Do I have a place to live?” Hendrix nods. “Of course you do.” “I work here, right?” “Yeah, man, you do. Call me after your photo shoot and fingerprints. I’ll be down to pick you up.” Hendrix smirks as he shakes his head. I walk outside and have to laugh. I mean, fuck, what else can I do? I’m going to jail because I tried to do the right thing. Momma would be proud. I did good. I am her legacy. I rub the tattoo on my arm. Legacy. I hop in the back of the squad car and chuckle again. “It’s like you’re my own personal driver, Johnny.” He shakes his head, and I know he’s trying his best not to smile. “Only you, Jagger. Only you.” This isn’t my first ride in the back of Johnny’s patrol car, and I can’t promise it will be my last. At least he doesn’t bother with the cuffs anymore. As I sit back, I see my old man and Lola walking out of the alley with garbage bags. I give him the old one-finger salute, and he gives it back. Good riddance, fucker. “You gonna leave it alone?” I hear Johnny ask. “What?” “The kid, the old man, your old man. You gonna start trying to think of yourself someday, Jag? Your future?” “Not sure,” I answer honestly. “You’re not Batman or some sort of vigilante. You are a mere mortal like the rest of us,” he says as he pulls out on the street. When I don’t answer, he sighs loudly. “You’ve gotta leave it alone.” “Mm-hm.”

Chapter 1

Jagger In the darkness of the night, I watch her from the alley beside my old building like a predator watches its prey. The girl who wouldn’t press charges or leave her abusive father’s shit hole. The girl who doesn’t leave that roach-infested scum hole or the man I witnessed in the aftermath of his savage, drunken abuse. The man might not have stopped hitting her. He might have even killed her that day, had I not busted through the door. It makes my blood boil. She deserves better. All human beings deserve better. Some just don’t know it, and Tatiana is one of those people. From outside, I can hear the drunken, vulgar way he speaks to her. I also hear the way she apologizes over and over. What I don’t hear is the crack of his fist, the slap of a belt, or the cries of pain that sometimes wake me in the dead of night after I’ve worked at Caldwell’s bar or drank enough to pass the fuck out so I wouldn’t be as tempted to swoop up the girl and carry her away, take her somewhere safe. Coming here at nighttime was a bad idea. I am usually pumped up from an underground fight or from a day of pounding the bags at Chaps. Many times I have to hit something to stop myself from busting into that hellhole. It started immediately—my obsession with the little pale, dark-haired girl. She is my morning coffee at Sips, my morning run, my morning trip to the nutrition store. I watch her hang laundry from the dilapidated balcony of her second-floor apartment. Every day like clockwork at seven in the morning, she hangs out stark-white men’s briefs, Tshirts, Dickies pants—the green ones the school janitor used to wear—and her tiny, thin, faded clothes. I wait while she goes back inside, knowing she will bring out the first of four rugs and beat them on the cracked back stairs with a broom. They are bigger than her. Hell, everything is. Regardless, every day, she will lug them out and in. I have tried to gauge when her father leaves, guesstimate his schedule. However, the fucking piece of shit she calls otetz—“father,” in Russian—doesn’t have a schedule. He isn’t hard to figure out, though. I can tell by the way she cowers when he speaks to her what kind of night she had. When she cringes or jumps at his voice, my blood boils. It’s late morning on those days. I can only imagine how he hit her, beat her, hurt her. I went to Johnny, demanding he do something. He told me to leave it alone. He said he did what he could, but she refused to cooperate. He also said she doesn’t speak or understand much English. Social services will follow up, but we have to be realistic with their caseload. She might be legal before they get to her.

During the afternoons, I watch from the diner across the road, and, well, that’s when I knew she was lying to Johnny. How did I know? She spoke perfectly good English to me that night. Also, she read books, old books, the same ones over and over. I tried to figure out why she wouldn’t just get new ones from the library, why she read them over and over, but I quickly came to the realization that she doesn’t attend school. I want to know what the books are, yet I’m pressing my luck simply by being around this part of town every day, and binoculars or walking close enough to see would be a bad call on my end. I went to Johnny about that, too. He told me she was homeschooled. She took tests and shit through the mail and always aced them. I pissed him off when I questioned his cop skills. How the fuck is he unaware she can speak English if she is acing tests? He merely told me, if the old man sees me, if I get caught, I will be violating the restraining order, and he will have no choice except to haul me in… again. Once, I watched her while she sat and read on the stoop, my plan in place. An older woman who lives in one of the downstairs apartments walked up the steps and handed her a bag. Tatiana held her hand up and shook her head, giving her a sweet smile. The woman took her hand and clasped it around the bag, then walked in the door. I watched as Tatiana opened the bag cautiously. Then her face nearly spilt in two when she saw the contents. Pastries. It was pastries. She looked around as if she would be in trouble if someone saw her. When she felt secure, she took them out and devoured them, one after another. Once finished, she stood, crinkled the bag, and then promptly set it in the garbage can in the alley. After that, I brought back more. When the old lady isn’t around, I sneak them to the balcony myself and wait, hoping her old man won’t find the secret stash. It took me a couple times of seeing it to realize she doesn’t want her father to know. It also made me realize she must be half-starved. Five months, five fucking months I have been dropping off a bag every week—sometimes two. A box of donuts, some fresh fruit, books, a bottle of vitamins, a first aid kit, and even some cash once in a while. Once, I wrapped a fucking light-green ribbon around a bag, and from that day on, she now wears it in her hair, wrapped around her wrist, or looped in her belt. Then I left a second ribbon, and she uses that one as a shoestring. Then I bought her some tennis shoes. I never see her wear them, though. I guess she doesn’t like them. As a result, the next week I left her slippers, the kind you can wear indoors and out. I suppose I have bad taste in shoes because she never wears those, either. She continues to wear the busted-up tennis shoes with the light-green ribbon…every…single…day. What she has liked are the books. The smile that forms on her face when she gets one does something to me. She may not know where the books come from, but I do. Those smiles are undoubtedly meant for the little escape she gets by reading, but they are caused by me; therefore, they are all mine. When I was younger, Momma read to us. We didn’t travel much—hell, we didn’t travel at

all—but we escaped the hardest times through the books and the stories shared by Momma, stories of gallant knights, dragon slayers, pirates, thieves who stole from the rich and gave to the poor, and princes who saved the princesses from the towers they were held in. Tatiana is a princess; there is no doubt in my mind. She is smart. Apparently, she even has test scores to prove it. After all, there’s no way in hell that fucker who is her father is doing her correspondence courses for her. The piece of shit can’t even form a complete sentence. She is hardworking and takes pride in the little she has. She is beautiful in the most natural way a woman can be. No painted face, no surgical enhancements could rival the beauty God above gave her. She wears her scars like jewelry. As sick as it sounds, to me, those are even more beautiful. They are so damn beautiful I have to remind myself over and over that she is only seventeen, not even legal. My cock obviously gives less than a fuck about that. Tatiana has something in her, the one thing pirates, thieves, and abusive fuckers can never take away: hope. I see it in her every day. It’s an unmistakable look. You have to have been hopeless at one time in your life in order to recognize it. I do, and it’s fucking with me. It is fucking with me badly.

Chapter 2

Tatiana The wisp, the crack in the air, the belt comes down to slap my face, and then the blood pours as my cheek burns. This one is deep. I close my eyes and fight to keep my whimpers at bay. The louder I get, the harder he hits— a lesson I learned the hard way. Sometimes, I can’t stay quiet, but it’s not for lack of trying. I think there are some butterfly bandages in the first aid kit I was given by the person who, for months now, has been leaving me gifts. First, it was the pastries. Oh, the deliciousness! Never in my life has something tasted so good. Then came books, shoes, the first aid kit, allergy medication, and vitamins. Yes, someone has left me vitamins. Someone in this great big world cares enough about my well-being to leave me vitamins. At first, I wondered if it was my mother—little-girl wishes that won’t come true. She let him take me, and she hasn’t reached out in seventeen years, so why would she now? She chose the comforts of what she knew in Russia over taking a chance for the better here in America with Father and me. As much as I want her here, deep in my heart of hearts, I know she isn’t. Somehow, I just know it isn’t her. Crack. I move just as the belt slaps against my neck, and fear strangles me. I look up at him from hooded eyes. His menacing stance doesn’t waver as his bloodshot eyes tell the tale of a drunken animal. Life has been like this for as long as I can remember. Every nuisance, every problem, every day, everything is my burden to bear. Until he finishes unleashing his anger or passes out, I have to take the blows. I almost escaped once. I close my eyes tightly, almost going back to the moment Caldwell busted through the door and beat my father until he was out cold. For the first time, someone was there. Like the men in the books I have read, the princes, the knights, the soldiers, and every other romantic hero, he was there to save me. Someone cared. The books aren’t always true. The cops, they aren’t heroes. Not one of them ever saved me. Jagger did, though, and he paid the price with the law, too. Just like every other good thing, the moment of peace was fleeting. Knowing Father was waking, I rushed Caldwell out, hoping my father would let it go and remember it as a drunken haze the day after. He didn’t.

Jagger Caldwell was arrested, went to jail, to court, and moved out…all because of me. The next morning, a police officer pulled me aside. Later, the social services worker did, too. Those were my chances to admit what life was like in his home. Only I didn’t. I let the fear overtake me. Father has warned me, time and again, they can take me away. I can be sent back to Russia, where I have no one. If I don’t obey him, if I don’t stay with him, they will send me to live on the streets in a country I can’t remember, much less ever called home. Rather than tell the truth or lie, I simply said nothing. It was easier in the moment to let them make assumptions. Clearly, they took the bait and accepted that I simply couldn’t speak or understand much English. This was and is easier than facing my reality. I still have his business card. After all these months, I still have my link to Jagger Caldwell, the only person who ever stepped in to help the likes of me. Yes, I still have the tiny paper connecting our worlds. With three more cracks of his belt, two of which I avoid, I am left huddling in the corner of the darkened hallway when he stops just as suddenly as he started. “Clean up this place and yourself, Ana. Next time, make sure dinner is ready, not four minutes late.” Then he stomps away, probably to have another drink, while I carefully unfold my body. Dinner was almost done. I had four minutes left to pull the bread out of the oven, but he was hungry, and his jaw had finally healed enough that he didn’t have to eat soup anymore. I should have known he would be wanting dinner early or at least on time. I messed up, mismanaged my time, so I paid the price. Now I must salvage the evening as quickly as I can before he decides it will be more fun to have round two than to eat our now-cold meal. Half crazy? Totally crazy? I don’t know which, but he is definitely not stable. Before allowing him a moment to reconsider hitting me more, I get up slowly and painfully and move to my bathroom. Our apartment is not the largest, even though we own the building. No, Father wouldn’t want to lose money. We have the smaller of the two-bedrooms, though we happen to have two bathrooms. Once I became a woman, he didn’t want to see “my mess,” as he called feminine products, in his garbage. Therefore, he rectified the bathroom situation by turning my old closet into a small bath. Now I have an armoire to replace the lacking closet and a small bathroom to call my own. Inside the enclosure, I clean up my face. Looking at the gash, I’m reminded of the scar that is under my eye, going down my cheek, the one I got at seven from the very same belt he hit me with today, ten years later. I sigh. Please let me have a chance to use the butterfly bandage and not gain another scar. I am not a beautiful girl, not even average, but scars all have stories behind them, and I don’t ever want to reveal my truths. Wishing I could get them from my room, I hold back, knowing Father can’t see the bandages. All of that will have to wait until he is asleep. He can’t ever know about my stash. He can’t find out that someone is giving me gifts.

I wince as the alcohol hits the open wound. The burn is strong as the chemical works to clean out microscopic germs. The cotton ball quickly turns pink as it absorbs my blood. Ugh. Dabbing on some petroleum jelly, I hope to cut down on the damage to my face. After I sneak to my room, I find the right bottle and take out two of the little pink antihistamine pills. I’m not sure why they gave me this, except I was having a runny nose with some sneezing and coughing a few weeks back. The next bag that was given to me held this bottle. Taking one, I felt much better, but I also fell asleep. I paid the price for being off-task that day as the nap won me over, but I learned two valuable lessons: One, don’t take these because I will sleep. Two, slip them in the right foods, and Father falls asleep for the night. Moving to the kitchen, I prepare his plate of pelmeni. Father loves his traditional Russian food and I love antihistamine. Smiling on the inside, I quietly crush the small pills and insert the powder inside the dumpling’s meat filling. I cover the warm pelmeni with a dollop of sour cream and send up a wish that this works quickly. I need relief. I need to breathe for a moment, just one precious moment. It doesn’t take long before Father is shoveling down his meal. It takes even less time before he is passed out on the couch. Without wasting any precious time, I go to my room, where I bandage my face. Then I rig my door so it makes noise should he wake up and come find me. This will give me just enough time to discard the bandage before he sees. Changing into my nightclothes, I slip my feet into my special slippers, and warmth rushes through me. It’s more than the soft lining that comforts me; it is the knowledge that someone, anyone cares. Father can never know. I hide away my treasures except the green ribbon. I move it from my hair to my wrist for bedtime. Father thinks it came off a grocery package, and I just wanted something girly. Once again, assumptions saved me. Since he noticed the ribbon, I knew to keep my shoes, slippers, books, and every other treasure a secret. Father pays too close attention. Fear. It’s a powerful thing. I fear the unknown. I fear that should I leave what could come will be worse than what I live right now. Father has told me what would happen to a girl like me. I’ve read the saying there’s always someone who has it worse. Well, what if I face more on the outside? What if it can be harsher outside of my father’s hold? Until I can find the courage, I can live inside my daydreams. As I slide between the sheets, I can’t help wondering what it would feel like to walk freely in my home in such nice slippers. I close my eyes and wiggle my toes. Does the person leaving me gifts know they are giving me absolute treasure?

Chapter 3

Jagger My brothers, Hendrix and Morrison, are at the bar when I pop in. “Training hard?” Morrison asks, looking up. When I see him exchange looks with Hendrix, I look back and forth between them a couple times. “Yeah. What of it?” I sit down, trying to avoid their eyes. They know something’s up. I can tell. I sure as hell won’t point it out to them ’cause it’s really nothing but a fucked-up obsession, one that will land me in jail if I don’t cut the shit. I can’t, though. I just can’t. She haunts me day and night. If I’m not thinking about her, I am dreaming about her. I dream about saving her, holding her, and I dream about tucking her away somewhere until she is eighteen and I can touch her. It’s too fucking quiet, so I chime in with the only thing I can tell them. “I’m fighting Cobra tomorrow night.” “And you’re just fucking telling us?” Hendrix snaps. “I just fucking found out!” I snap back. “You sure you can handle him?” Morrison asks. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, can I handle him?” I snap. “You’re distracted as hell. That’s what I mean.” “Well, shit’s changing. What with you married, and you”—I point to Morrison—“bringing home two.” “Watch it,” Morrison growls. “What the fuck? I adore them—all of them—but like I said, shit’s changing. You fuckers need to let me breathe and stop doing it down my back.” I stand up, pissed and 2.2 seconds away from breaking shit. “I’m out.” “Hold the hell up.” Hendrix laughs. “Sit down and have something to eat. Fuck, have a drink.” “Two. I think he needs two,” Morrison says with a chuckle. “Sit your ass down, clown.” Begrudgingly I sit, stewing. In minutes, Livi sets a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes in front of me. She gives me a sad smile, and I thank her, even though I’m not hungry, because when I am hungry, I think of her, the tiny little Tatiana, and it makes me angry. I’m angry at the cops and social workers for not dragging her out of there, angry that no matter how many times I tell Johnny Fucking Law, he doesn’t do dick but warn me. Me!

I slam my fist on the bar and look up. “Still nothing going on?” Hendrix asks as his brows shoot up to the ceiling. “Getting fight-ready,” I lie. But is it a lie? Will I lose my shit, or will I be able to control myself? “Well, I can guarantee that oak bar will never fuck with you again.” Morrison laughs. “Just like Hailey isn’t fucking you?” I snarl back, knowing he’s going through some shit, and it was a low blow. “Eat up, baby Caldwell. If you need a sparring partner, I’ll give you one.” Morrison stands up and walks toward the back entry, yelling over his shoulder, “I could fuck that anytime I want. You’re just pissed you’re still beating off.” I know I have crossed a line. Fuck, he’s giving his little momma some space, doing what’s best for her. I shake my head and look up into Livi’s disapproving eyes. I give her a smile and a wink, knowing she eats that shit up, and she tries her damnedest not to smile, but she does. Then she throws the wet bar rag at my face. “Go make nice.” I nod and look at Hendrix. “If he can’t give it to you good enough, yell for me, baby Caldwell.” I get up and make my way to the door, overhearing him tell Livi, “Do you need me to give it to you good, my sexy, little, crazy girl?” “Anytime, anyplace,” she says in a whisper, but I hear it. Someday, I will have a chick eating out of my hand, too. Right now, I gotta let Morrison beat on me a little ’cause I feel like shit for acting like an ass. He has his shirt off, and I laugh as he flexes his pecs. “Ever seen something this pretty?” “Yeah, this.” I pull my shirt off. “That’s not pretty, man,” he grumbles. “That’s a whole lot of shit you’ve got going on there, Legacy. Your arms are covered completely.” “They’re called a sleeve, asshole.” “I’ll buy you a shirt, sleeves and all.” He gets in a stance and beckons me with his hand. “Let’s play.” I strike, knowing damn well he can block me, and he does. “Do I have ‘bitch’ on my forehead?” He laughs. “Come on, tough guy, you’re not playing with an old drunk.” I strike again, not hard, just enough to let him know I’m present. “There you go,” he says as he lunges forward and taps my face. “Hands up, Jagger.” “Fuck you.” I tap his face back four times. “Take your own advice.” We play this tapping shit, him, then me, back and forth, and all it does is wind me up. Back when we were younger, Morrison would let our old man pound on him. Blow after blow, he would take it. I knew damn well he was gaining two things from it. First, he was

wearing the old fuck down so he wouldn’t come after Momma, Hendrix, or me. Second, he seemed to like the pain that came from showing the old man he couldn’t break him. When the asshole came after Hendrix, he broke bones and shit. As a result, Hendrix would knock the bastard out swiftly. When he came after me, I toyed with him. I was the cat, and he was the fucking mouse. I would grapple with him, sweep his legs out from under him, always letting the motherfucker come up for a breath before knocking his sorry ass down again. “Land something, Jag. Come on,” Morrison says. “I’m good,” I reply with a nod, backing away. “I’m gonna go for a run.” With that I take off, running to the place I always do when my head is a fucking mess, to the cemetery to sit and talk to the woman who gave me life. The sidewalk is cracked beneath my feet as I press on, making my way to the only place I can see her now. She gave me life, love, and, until her dying breath, the courage to fight. Sitting next to her grave makes me uneasy. I still can’t believe she’s gone. I miss her more than I can ever express in words. All of us have gone through insurmountable changes since we lost her. Hendrix is married. Morrison is head over heels in love with a girl who has baggage by the boatloads. Hell, they just returned from a Vegas trip to put Hailey’s ex in jail. I’m sure any day now they will be getting hitched. I know she loves him, just can’t stand to feel like she owes someone. We all have our issues. Her kid, Marisa—or Little Chick, as Morrison calls her—is totally cool. I’ve never really been around young kids before. With no relatives to speak of outside my brothers, my mom, and the sperm donor, I never really had a chance to. “I wish you could meet them, Mom,” I say as I sit down on the ground next to her grave. “Your two older boys did really well. They aren’t like him, you know. Me? Well, I like to hit shit, but you know that.” I lie back on the cool ground and look up at the sky. “I got a new tat. It says Legacy. We never had much in the form of material things, never had a boatload of cash—hell, not even a trunkful—but what you left us was worth more than all of that. We’re your legacy.” I pull up the sleeve of my Henley, hoping maybe she’ll see it from where I imagine she sits, high up in the clouds. “I got it to remind me of the woman who brought me up, the woman who gave me life, the woman I want to always make proud of me, the woman I want to have live on through me. Right now, Hendrix and Morrison are fulfilling their promise to you, Momma. They are your good in a world of bad. I made the same promise, and by god, I’ll get there someday. It’s just gonna take me longer than it did them.” — I stand just behind the graffiti-covered wall in the shit-hole abandoned car factory on the outskirts of Rock City. I can hear the crowd, feel the energy, the excitement, the tension crackling in the air. “You okay, kid?” Old Man Shaw, my trainer, asks me with a swat to the back. “I’m a legacy, Shaw. What do you think?” “My boy’s on fire tonight!” he yells over to the man acting as tonight’s announcer. “You hear me? He’s on fire!” I love this old guy. His mind is sharp as hell, but his body is in rough shape. He fought

when he was my age, and he didn’t take a break. He made bank and bought a couple gyms, then took me on when I was still in high school after he saw me getting my ass beat by some gangbanger, and he never charged me a dime. He has been at the bar a few times over the years. I know he felt the tension in the air when my old man owned the place. The only difference between now and back then is I now insist, when I win, he gets a healthy cut, and he doesn’t argue, not anymore. The underground circuit is different than the sanctioned fights. No rules and no limits. Being here, we take a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. “Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready?” the announcer yells from inside the makeshift ring surrounded by a crowd of about fifty close by. The space as a whole is full in every corner. Tonight is different. Money is laid out for this fight. Hell, we even have a circular mat covering a big part of the concrete floor. “This evening is brought to you by Broke Bail Bonds. This is for the Rock City LightHeavyweight Championship. We will have five three-minute rounds. In the Broke Bail red corner, standing at an even six feet tall, weighing in at a cool two hundred four pounds, welcome the reigning light-heavyweight champion, the striker, Cooooobra!” “Shut ’Em Down” by Public Enemy blares, and the crowd goes wild as Cobra bounds out of the hallway opposite the one I’m in. His hands are up, fingers in mock strike position, as he plays the crowd, giving them what they want. “In the black corner, sponsored by Caldwell’s Bar, standing six foot one inch, weighing in at a trim one hundred ninety pounds, Jagger ‘The Hitmaker’ Caldwell!” “Right Above It” by Lil Wayne starts, and Shaw gives me the stink eye. The lyrics are meant to antagonize Cobra. “I know what I’m doing.” I give him a half-hug as my mind gets fight-ready. I hold my hands up in prayer position, look up, and whisper, “Legacy, Momma.” I begin to ring my hands out of habit. Shaw tells me it’s a dead giveaway that my game is more strike than grapple, but we have trained well. My moves are planned out to a T, and if and when the plan goes to shit, no one has it over me when it comes to instinct. As my eyes focus on Cobra’s, I give him a slow, planned smile before I take in his girl. I look her up and down, lick my lips, and then give her a wink, baiting him with the mind fuck. There was a day when that girl meant something to me, but she went back to him time and time again. Apparently now they are engaged. It was her choice to say yes or no. Bitch said yes, and from then on, she’s a no-no to me. I let my eyes slowly go back to find him glaring at me. I’m pretty sure there is smoke coming out of his ears too. I stand before him, eyes locked, smirk in place, and hands still ringing, stretching, twisting. “All right, boys. No biting, kicks to the nuts, and you don’t leave the mat. First one down and out loses.” “This one’s all you, bro!” I look left to see Hendrix and Morrison by the black corner and smile. Hendrix has never sponsored a fight before—hated my fighting—but tonight, he and Morrison are here to show support. They are here ’cause if shit gets ugly like the last time I

fought Cobra, they will have my back. The difference between back then and now is that now, I’m knocking the motherfucker out.

Chapter 4

Tatiana I have lost my mind completely. If my father wakes up before I get back, I am one dead girl. There is no way I will survive the beating I’ll get if he catches me. I can’t help it, though. Once the brown paper bags started appearing regularly, and not just a drop-off by Old Lady Simmons, I had to know who they were from. Waiting and watching carefully, I figured out it was none other than Jagger Caldwell, who is breaking the law just by being this close to the property and my father. I run my fingers over the green ribbon on my wrist. Someone cares. Jagger Caldwell wants to look after me. I’m not alone anymore. Tonight I gave my father his dose of allergy medication. Then, as I sat in my room, glancing to my small balcony, movement caught my eye. It was Jagger and another bag. Rather than waste a single second, I toss on the shoes he left me months ago and sneak out without a second thought. Though my mind catches up to me, I watch the taillight of his motorcycle. Thankfully he doesn’t go far or fast, and the stoplights work in my favor. I watch him pull down an alley. I continue in that direction as I follow Jagger around an abandoned building not far from our rundown complex. There are many abandoned places on our block. As the Americans like to call it in their movies, I live in the ghetto. I don’t remember Russia enough to know what life was like there, but here, my father is what they would call a slumlord, I think. He maintains our building only to the minimum and charges the maximum. My curiosity runs wild as to why Jagger is there when he clearly owns a bar. He may have lived in the ghetto, but he owns a business. Why would he hang out here? The business card said Caldwell’s Dive, and the court paperwork I had to read over for Father said his legal name is Jagger Caldwell. No middle name, just Jagger Caldwell. I smile to myself. Of course he is only Jagger Caldwell. He doesn’t need a middle name. He is who he is. A strong name for a strong man. The streets are full of cars, and people mill about as I watch Jagger enter through the back. Seeing the large man at the door, I know I can’t get in that way, so I move to the front of the building, where I follow in behind a group of scantily clad women with overly done hair and makeup. The large man at the door only scowls as I pass inside with the group after the guy in the front hands him a stack of cash. Inside the building, the lighting is dim except in the center of the room where a makeshift cage has been set up with a weird mat on the ground. People crowd every clear space near it as more men and women pile into the building, all apparently here to watch something.

The dust on the rafters hardly makes this an ideal location for any sort of gathering. The smells of alcohol, sweat, and overdone perfume hit my nostrils at every turn of my head. The men are roaring loudly as the women hang on to them tightly. The adrenaline seems to be in the air in every breath they take as each person seems to be more amped up than the last. I make my way against the walls, trying to get a better view of the back. I don’t understand why Jagger would be here. Fear builds inside me. I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t be here. If Father wakes up before I get home, I’m going to pay. Time passes and panic fills me as I fight to keep myself together. There is a shrill sound before the microphone kicks in. I plug my ears as my head throbs from the noise. Sensory overload is an understatement. The announcer calls out, “The striker, Cobra,” which is followed by some crazy music. Then I look up through the crowd as the announcer calls, “Jagger ‘The Hitmaker’ Caldwell,” whose short, dark-brown hair is wild tonight. I take in the man who has become my hero from top to bottom as he stretches his arms, swinging them in front of him, making his muscles flex and his tattoos dance along his skin. Both arms are covered from shoulder to wrist in ink. His right pec is covered in what looks to be the helmet of a knight with the word Momma under it. His abs flex with every movement, leading down to the word Hitmaker in bold script over his lower stomach, under his belly button. His hips make a V that leads to a pair of black shorts that say TapouT, covering the toned, tanned thighs of the fighter, leading to his large, bare feet. When his right foot catches my attention, I squint to read the words Stay Grounded on the outside of it just before he hops around, warming up. Every inch of him is rough, toned, calloused, and screams to be watched. He is glorious. Every move, every breath captivates me. Once the bell rings, the illusion of Jagger Caldwell quickly crashes in front of me. I watch in what feels like slow motion as the man who has been giving me tokens of life dances around the ring with his opponent. Suddenly he pounces, and the two lock together around the shoulders and neck. After they break apart, I watch as Jagger begins his assault. He pounds away, strike after strike, blow after blow, on the Cobra guy. Everything spins around the violence happening in front of me. Cobra has a longer reach and uses it to his advantage—according to the announcer—as he pulls Jagger to the mat, locking him into a painful-looking hold. “Will the Hitmaker submit to Cobra’s arm bar?” the announcer calls out to the crowd, and boos resound loudly in reply. “Submit, punk-ass motherfucker!” Cobra yells out as spit flies from his mouth and blood pours out of his nose. “Legacy!” Jagger calls out, reversing the hold and pinning Cobra in his own hold. The two men break apart and seem to start the whole thing over again, first circling each other and then locking in before separating. Jagger kicks out, knocking Cobra to the mat. The two grapple until Jagger moves to hold Cobra’s arm and head in what the announcer calls “the Anaconda” before Cobra taps repeatedly against Jagger. The announcer laughs into the microphone, saying, “This isn’t regulation, Cobra. Tap all

you want, pretty boy. Hitmaker still gets another round with you.” My body feels like it is on fire as the fury builds. How can the man who saved me be such a barbarian? I want to run, but I feel stuck in place as the bell rings, the round over. Each man goes to his corner. Jagger gulps water as it’s squirted down his throat while sweat rolls off his body. I can’t turn away. The crowd shuffles, and I’m knocked down. Squinting, I watch as the two fighters stand up, and the bell rings for round two. Slowly, I get to my feet as Jagger swings and then follows with an uppercut. Cobra goes down. O-U-T, he is out. Jagger Caldwell just knocked a man out for pleasure. I feel the sweat roll down my forehead as I panic. Somehow it was okay to me when Jagger knocked my father out, but now, watching the brutality of it all, I want to puke. Jagger is no better than the monster I live with. I turn to rush away, pushing through the crowd as the announcer counts down to Jagger’s win. Everyone goes wild while I want to scream and run, but I’m immobile with my back to the makeshift ring. The need to escape consumes me, and I lose all focus on everything except finding my way to the exit door. Jagger Caldwell is not the man I thought he was.

Chapter 5

Jagger I see the green ribbon out of my peripheral, and then it’s gone. Fucking ridiculous. I am absolutely ridiculous. This girl is a girl, and she’s not even really here, yet I’m convincing myself I see her. Utter bullshit. “You did it, man!” My brothers are at my sides, holding my arms in the air as the announcer tells the audience what I already know: I’m the fucking champion. I look down at Cobra, who is still lying there, but now he’s surrounded by his fucking thugs. I taste the blood pooling in my mouth and spit it out, making sure it lands by the fucker’s head. “You better watch your back, Caldwell,” Cobra’s right hand, Tins, barks at me. I bounce a little, trying to get rid of this post-fight overabundance of energy, the high, the rush. “Your man should have watched his front.” I spit again, this time the blood landing at Tins’s feet. He stands up. “You lowlife piece of shit.” I beckon him with my hands and pound my chest. “Step, man. Step the fuck up. I’ve got a right for you too.” “Fuck. Let’s get him out of here,” I hear Hendrix groan to Morrison. “Get me out of here? I’m the motherfucking champion!” I say, still bouncing from my high. “Come on, champ.” Old man Shaw smacks me in the back. “Let’s get you paid.” “Us paid.” I nod. “It’s a big one, Shaw.” “I know it is, Jagger. I know it is.” Hendrix gets a call while Shaw and I are waiting for the moneyman. “Go.” I point to him as I pull on a pair of gray sweats. “We’ll be fine. Both of you.” “Go on,” Shaw says. “Get back to that bar of yours and get ready for a good night. We’ll bring a crowd with us. I’ve got seven of my guys from the gym here. Nothing’s going to happen except our boy is gonna get paid, and then, if luck will have it, the champ will get laid, blow off some steam, and be at Caldwell’s.” “You coming down too?” Hendrix asks, gripping Shaw’s shoulder. “You buying?” “Yeah.” Hendrix laughs and gives him a half-hug, then points at me. “You made me proud tonight.” “You made us both proud and made us some bank, too.” Morrison gives me a fist bump.

I nod, then pull my sweatshirt on over my head as a couple guys walk in and hand my brothers the envelopes with their winnings. I have been waiting for this day for a long fucking time. I bet five grand on the underdog, and guess who won? “I’m gonna run home and shower,” I tell Shaw, handing over an envelope after the moneyman makes his way to me. He holds his hand up, which kind of shocks me. “I tell you every time that I don’t want your damn money. I want a win.” “It’s been awhile since you’ve argued about money. Let me remind you, I tell you every time that I’ll stop coming if you don’t take it.” I pat him on the back and push the envelope in his hand. “Let’s roll.” I grab my helmet out of Shaw’s Tahoe, having left it there so no one fucked with it during the fight, and then I walk down the alley to where I parked my bike. She and I have a history. It took two years to build her back up and get her running the way she should. We didn’t use replacement parts. We dug through junkyards and flipped through salvage sites to bring her back to her original glory. The black and red, 1974 Harley-Davidson FLH Shovelhead Special. Okay, she really isn’t special except to me. I straddle her and am about to turn the key when I see something move behind the Dumpster. I drop the helmet on the seat, then quietly walk over to where the movement came from. “If you want trouble, he’s right here. Face-to-face, pussy.” Nothing. I walk over and blindly reach in the corner and grab what I assume is one of Cobra’s scum. “Don’t hit me,” comes out in a whimpered plea. “Then get your ass out here.” I half-drag the punk under the light and pull the hood off his head. “What the hell?” I say, shocked when I see the object of my every fucking fantasy. “Tatiana?” “Let go of me!” she says with a little more sass behind her words. Regretfully, I let go of her arm and put my hands in the air. “I didn’t know who it was.” She starts to move left to get around me, so I step forward. Her back hits the brick wall of the building, and I rest my hand on it, next to her head. “You okay? He didn’t hurt you again, did he?” When she moves right, instinct kicks in, and my other hand goes to the other side of her, caging her in. Her eyes dart everywhere, looking for escape, and then the flight response I know so well turns to nothing. Her head hangs low, and she says nothing. “Did he hurt you again?” She looks up, anger displayed in her eyes. “You’re a bad man.” Her words shock me. “Come again?” “Y-you tricked me. I thought you were good. You aren’t. You’re like him. You are a bad

man,” she says, now on the verge of tears. “I’d never hurt anyone.” “You hurt him, knocked him out. You are just like him.” Her voice is pained, and she is nearly shaking. I feel an overwhelming need to explain myself to calm her. It pisses me off. I’m nothing like him. “That’s how I make money.” I shake my head. “Again, I would never hurt anyone for shits and giggles or because I was a bad drunk or because I was a shitbag excuse for a human being.” “It’s never okay to put your hands on someone,” she says, trying to sound courageous. “Listen to me and listen to me well, little one. I know what it’s like to be knocked around. My old man was a lot like yours. I am not, nor will I ever be, like that.” I step back and cross my arms, trying to tame my frustration. “You don’t put your hands on—” Still high on the adrenaline, the win, and now the desire I have coursing through my veins, I reach out and cup her cheek. She tenses at first, but then I stroke my thumb across her scar, and she closes her eyes, making me more aroused. “There’s good touch and bad touch,” I tell her. She leans in to my hand a little. “This is good touch, Tatiana. Can you feel how good it is?” She nods slowly two times. “That’s a good girl.” I feel my cock growing inside my sweats, and I lean forward, then put my lips against her other cheek, kissing her softly as I whisper, “This is good touch.” When she turns her head to look at me, the corners of our lips connect, and I groan. “This is really good touch.” Her lips pucker and press against mine, and it takes every ounce of strength I have to pull back. “Did he hurt you again, little one?” “I’m not little.” She is angry again, but so am I, at myself. “You’re a minor. If you weren’t, that kiss would have turned into an unforgettable touch.” “You like to hit people. I saw it.” “I fight for money, little one, but I’m not into bad touch.” The ache deep inside me, the one that is burning in my balls, coupled with the high, the need to conquer, is almost unstoppable. I lean in and nuzzle her neck. Then I scrape my teeth lightly on her skin, using every ounce of restraint I have not to sink them into her, consume her, fighting the unstoppable that wants to take this little one against the fucking wall. “I crave good touch.” She whimpers, her face pressing against mine. “Tonight’s trophy fuck, Hit-taker?” I lurch back when I hear his voice. “Enjoy it. In three weeks, she’ll be on my dick, and the title will be back in my hands unless you’re too much of a pussy.”

I turn, holding her in place behind me, shielding her, protecting her. Fuck, I want to claim her, but she’s not mine to claim; she’s no one’s. She’s seven-damn-teen. “Shove your dick back between your legs, Cobra. You lost, so now walk away,” I growl as I step back, making sure she is safe between the wall and me, making sure he doesn’t see her. “Give me your word, Caldwell, and I’ll walk.” “I don’t back down from a fight, but I ain’t giving you shit. Have your bitches contact Shaw, and I’ll be there.” “If he ain’t man enough to give it to you good, angel, I’ll give it to you,” Cobra says as he walks away, limping. Once he is out of sight, I grab her hand. “I need to get you somewhere safe.” She looks confused. “Are you ready to talk to the cops now?” She shakes her head and darts left, but I catch her arm. “You aren’t any safer up against the scum that hangs around here than you are with him, little one.” “I have to go home.” “How am I supposed to let that happen? I can’t let you keep getting the shit pounded out of you.” “He isn’t hitting me as much anymore. I have it all under control.” “Meaning what?” I still see marks. “He sleeps, and I can breathe.” She tries to walk past me again, and again I grab her arm. “You have to get the fuck out of there. I promise I’ll make sure you are taken care of.” “You have been taking care of me.” The way she says it confuses me. “I don’t think that’s enough.” “The things you leave me…they have changed my life. He eats; I sleep. But I have to go.” She surprises me by reaching up and kissing me quickly. “Thank you for everything you have done for me. Until you, no one cared.” “That’s not true. You didn’t let anyone care.” I don’t want her thinking I’m a fucking hero. That’s never the way I want to be viewed by a girl I want to bust apart. “I have to go.” She hesitates, and then determination fills her features. “Now.” I grab her hand and pull her toward my bike. Then I put the helmet on her while she stands there, giving me those dreamy eyes. I should tell her what she sees isn’t what I am, but fuck if I didn’t just convince her I wasn’t an abuser myself. “I’ll get you there.” I straddle my bike. “Climb on and hang tight.” She follows my command, and I start her up, then rev the engine and give it some gas. As Tatiana holds on more tightly, I go faster. While I take the long way to her place, her prison, her hell, her body is wrapped around me securely. If I dismounted right now, I know she would still be attached.

I stop a block away, not wanting to wake the bastard whose life I will end if given the opportunity again. She climbs off, and I get off to help her with the helmet. “Do you know how to call 911?” She shakes her head. “We don’t have a phone.” “Fuck,” I snap as I run my fingers through my hair. “You will have one.” She looks confused as she walks away. She stops right before she crosses the road to the roach fucking hotel. “Thank you.”

Chapter 6

Tatiana Bad touch. Bad touch. That is all I can think as each hit comes. It has been three weeks since I snuck away and watched Jagger fight, and my mind has run rampant after that night. Every time I touch my lips, I feel the ghost of his against mine. My first kiss. I have read about them, dreamed of the day my prince would come and save me, but my reality is a far cry from a book. The first person to ever care about my well-being also happens to be a man who makes money fighting. Yet, he says he craves good touch. Well, so do I, Jagger Caldwell. So do I. I was so busy today, I forgot about the pills that put Father to sleep. I was in a rush with dinner tonight. Things with schoolwork or the building’s needs had to come first. Tonight, I promise myself. I will face my fears, and tonight I will find a way out. If I can move when he’s done, that is. “It feels good to beat the shit out of you,” Father slurs as I remain crouched in the corner of our living room. “Disobedient girl! The tasks are not hard: clean, cook, and stay out of the way.” “Father, two apartments were having leaks, and I couldn’t find you since we have no phone. I had to do something,” I whine, hoping he can see reason. I left our apartment to help our tenants who complained of a water leak in their closets. This meant going to the apartments above the two with damage to try to determine where the leak came from. Since I am certainly not a plumber, I broke multiple rules today when, first, I left my apartment, and second, I used his computer for something other than schoolwork. I am only permitted to use it when he is home and it pertains to school. He only allows me this privilege because it is a law that I attend some form of school here in America. If I don’t complete the homeschool curriculum online and pass, he says the government will send me back to Mother Russia. Everything is always done with a threat of ending up in our homeland that I can’t even remember. “Don’t you ever fucking talk back to me—do you hear? You cost me money! You are like all of the other American losers,” he roars, his hand coming down across the top of my head. At least I have some reprieve in this nightmare. The alcohol has made him sloppy tonight. The blows come, but they don’t seem to make their target, and the impact is less than usual. I can only hope he drank throughout the day and will soon exhaust himself, then pass out. “I’m sorry,” I whisper right before a hit comes hard and fast to my face. My nose gushes blood as my cheek burns. “Momma,” I cry out instinctively, unable to remain quiet. I know

this is his way of discipline, the old way—children are seen, not heard. My helping our tenants undermines his position and I know this, but no one understands. The tenants want things done and I thought I could help. He is in charge. He is the power figure. I did wrong in stepping in. “Oh, your momma can’t help you, child! She’s dead, you see,” he slurs, and his words make my mind go wild. He laughs as I peer up at him. “Ana, you foolish girl, that is why we left Russia. All these years, I got away with it. Your momma can’t save you. As much as she tried, she failed.” “What?” I question, the word slipping out before I can silence myself. Father killed her, is that his implication? Humor dances in his drunken eyes. He finds my pain amusing. “You wouldn’t quit crying. Over and over, I told her to shut you up, but you didn’t. When she laid you in the crib, you got louder, and for every cry you made, she paid the price.” I gasp at his admission, shocked at this with hate building inside of me. I am the reason she is gone. My mother paid the ultimate price for her love of me and protecting me. Anguish creeps in and I push back my emotions as the fear takes over again. He sways in front of me as I prepare for him to hit me again. Only he doesn’t. Instead, he crouches down in front of me, cupping my chin and forcing me to look at him. The smell of alcohol coming off his breath makes my stomach churn. “She’s dead, Ana, and it’s all your fault. She hit her head on the corner of your crib as she fell.” Tears fill my eyes. She was trying to protect me, to soothe me. “Once she hit the floor, you fell asleep. I waited and waited for her to wake up.” His eyes look away as if he’s thinking back to that very moment. I want to run, I want to cry, I want to scream, and I want him to hurt. His tone goes from distant to sharp with anger. “She didn’t, but you did. Then we left. So cry out to your momma all you want. She couldn’t save you then, and she won’t save you now.” Before I can react, brace, block, or even think about his next move, his backhand comes crashing down on my face. I slump into the wall as I see stars dance behind my eyelids. “You are mine,” he roars as he stands over me. “No one can save you from me.” His fist comes down on my temple, and blackness engulfs me. I don’t know how much time passes before sounds swim around me as I try to come to. The pounding in my head doesn’t stop me from feeling the pounding he is giving my body. “Flesh of my flesh,” he chants, slamming a fist into my side as I lie slumped over. “Blood of my blood. It was all good until you came. She wanted a baby. I gave her you, and you took her from me, so I took her from you.” The words run together as he swings sloppily, hitting the floor instead of me. I fight to breathe and stay awake. My mother is gone. There isn’t any other piece of me in this world except the monster over me. As each hit comes, I can only hope this will be the last. Is that how my mother felt in the end? I would rather die than continue to live like this. The next hit comes so hard my head bounces off the floor and slams down again as the pain

radiates down my neck. Give me the death blow, I think to myself. Take me out of this world. One can only dream is my last thought as I take a hit to the head that sends me back into darkness. Fight or flight is my first thought as I come to. The apartment is dark now, as it is late into the night. I blink, trying to allow my eyes to adjust as my head throbs in severe pain. I reach up to find my face covered in dried blood. Every breath hurts; every muscle aches. As I try to get myself together, my eyes come into focus, and in front of me is the monster who took my mother away, the monster who has tortured me from the day I was born. He is snoring loudly on the floor in front of me. O-U-T, out. This is my chance, my opportunity. Fight or flight? rings in my hurting head. Flee! my instincts scream. Get out before he wakes up and kills you like Momma. The fear of staying, of what he is truly capable of, finally outweighs my fear of the unknown. He has held me back all these years, threatening me with a place I can’t remember. We have no family, at least that I know of. Certainly someone would have looked for me, right? He killed my mother. Accident or not, she died at his hands. Nothing can stop him from killing me should he get pushed too far. I have to get out of here…and fast. I stand, fighting the urge to rush. I can’t wake him, or I will never get out, and I won’t die at his hands like my mother did. I refuse. When all else fails, the streets have to be safer than staying here. If he remembers what he told me, I will be dead for sure. Fight or flight, Tatiana! I have no fight left in me. Quickly but quietly, I grab my packed and hidden treasures along with the cash I have saved from Jagger’s gifts. Hiding them all this time from Father has kept everything together, making this much faster for me than I thought possible. Jagger Caldwell. At the same time he scares me, he also seems to be my only hope. He fights for money, not for revenge…therein lies the difference. I pull the well-worn business card out of the shoes he gave me before I slip them on. Jagger Caldwell. My mind races as I step over the passed-out body of my father. Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up. Jagger Caldwell. I focus my mind on my one escape. No one else ever stepped in. No one else ever seemed to care. They have heard the sounds, they have seen the marks, and yet only one person ever stepped in. Jagger Caldwell. I run my fingers over the tattered paper of the business card. It’s time to find my way to Caldwell’s. I can do this. I have no other choice. Be strong, Tatiana. Be strong.

Chapter 7

Jagger I watch Morrison and Hailey say their “I do”s and I swear to God, I see Tatiana walk by the open front garage doors of the bar, so I run out and look left, then right. Nothing. I even walk my sorry ass around the building, trying to see if she’s hanging out there, because the last time I was near her, she was in a fucking alley, but of course, she’s not there. My head is fucked so badly over this little one, but I learned a long time ago there isn’t a damn thing you can do to change a person unless that person wants to be changed. I see a patrol car pulling over and notice Johnny in the driver’s seat. The window rolls down. “Have you seen the Rand girl?” “No, why?” I ask, trying to act like I couldn’t give a fuck less. It’s bullshit. I give a fuck. I give a fuck more than I should, that’s for damn sure. “Her old man says she’s been missing for over twenty-four hours.” I clamp my jaw shut as my stomach turns, and I hiss, “If something happens to her, that shit’s on you, Johnny Law.” “Me?” He sounds pissed. Fuck that, so am I! “Yeah, you, social services, all you motherfuckers who did fuck-not when you knew shit was bad for her.” “You need to step back, Caldwell. Remember who you’re talking to,” he hisses back. “I remember, the cop who couldn’t do shit for a girl, but who can arrest me for doing the right goddamn thing!” He looks at me, pissed, but he’s Johnny. He ain’t gonna jump. He’s gonna hide behind that fucking badge. “Like I said, if something happened to her, I will make it rain down locusts and shit on everyone who turned a blind fucking eye.” After his tires squeal as he speeds away, I walk back in the bar, reminding myself to remain calm. It’s Morrison’s day. Fuck! “Everything okay?” Hendrix asks. “Yep, fucking great.” I watch as Hailey leads Morrison outside, no doubt taking him to Momma’s Nest. He’s gonna be thrilled. Momma’s Nest! Fuck, that’s it. She could live there. I hear fingers snap.

“Hey, what did you do? Johnny doesn’t just show up for nothing. Should I be expecting a call to bail your ass out again?” I look at him, ready to pounce, but then Livi, my pregnant sister-in-law, and Little Chick, my new niece, are standing next to Hendrix. Can’t jump, can’t pounce, can’t do shit except maybe tell a twisted version of the truth. “Remember that girl? The one whose dad beat the fu—” “Jagger,” Livi whispers, and I look down at Marisa and smile. “My last photo shoot? The girl I helped out who never left her old man’s house?” “Please tell me you didn’t fu—” “Hendrix,” Livi says more sternly. “Right, sorry.” He runs his fingers through his hair and gives Livi a kiss on the cheek. “Do you and Marisa wanna go see if Jared and Sally need help setting up the buffet?” Livi sighs. “Yeah.” Then she looks at me. “You did the right thing back then. You just have to make sure you remember we’re all here, too.” She and the kid walk away, leaving Hendrix and me alone. “She’s missing,” I tell him. “Johnny said her father reported her missing. I swear on everything I am, if he hurt her, if she is…” I pause, not wanting to finish speaking my biggest fear. “I’ll kill the motherfucker, Hendrix. If she is gone, I will kill him with my bare hands.” His face shows that he knows I will. “We need you—” “It ain’t fucking right!” “No, it’s not. So when we find her, what are you prepared to do about it?” “Make sure no one ever hurts her again. That’s what the fuck I plan to do.” “You’re in love with this girl,” he states. “No! She’s seventeen years old.” “Shit,” he grumbles. “You’re in love.” “No, I’m not some sick son of a bitch, Hendrix. I just wanna make sure the promise I made to Momma, the one we all made to Momma, is fulfilled.” He looks at me like he knows something I don’t. “She’s a goddamn kid,” I say, defending myself. He nods. “She’s a seventeen-year-old girl who’s been abused. The kid has been knocked out of her, Jagger. You know it just as well as I do. Been there, done that, got the bruises and broken bones to show for it. If you take someone like that on, you better make damn sure you don’t do more damage than good.” “Meaning what?” “Meaning bruises, breaks, and cuts leave scars, but those fuckers heal. If you break a heart, that shit leaves more than a scar. You get me?” “She isn’t in love with me,” I snap. “Wasn’t talking about only her,” he says. “We can go looking tonight.” “I have a fight in two days. How am I gonna find her and train? Fuck!” “You got a picture of your girl?”

“Fuck no, I don’t have a picture. And she isn’t my girl,” I defend. “Uh-huh,” he says, turning to walk away. Then he stops and turns back. “Then why look?” “It’s the right thing to do. That’s fucking why.” “The right thing to do isn’t always easy.” “Well, no shit, asshole.” “Don’t be a dick, Jag. What the hell are you gonna do when you find her? Have you thought about that?” “Morrison and Hailey’s place, Momma’s Nest,” I say, proud as shit that I have an answer that seems rational in this irrational situation. “They created their safe haven for abused women.” “She an eighteen-year-old momma? That’s what their nonprofit is for, not runaways, or—” “Rules can be bent.” “You willing to see Morrison’s dream destroyed for a girl you just want to do right by?” “Yeah, and Momma would be proud!” “Will you be when he gets shut down before he even has a chance to get this dream of his flying?” I look at him, and he looks right back. He’s right, but fuck if I can walk away. “Understood.” “So you gonna just walk?” I don’t answer. “I’m all about helping family, Jagger. I’m all about helping the underdog and doing what’s right, but family is family, and sometimes charity needs to start at home.” “So I walk away? Are you fuckin’ outta your mind? That’s not who we are.” “No, not necessarily. You could always look outside the box. Better yet, maybe stop ignoring what your heart’s telling you.” — The day after Morrison’s wedding, I run all over this entire city. I have looked everywhere for her, fucking everywhere, and nothing. There’s not a damn sign of that green ribbon or the girl I have an almost animalistic need to find. I couldn’t give a fuck about this fight, and old man Shaw is fit to be tied. In the forty minutes I have given him today, I have knocked out every sparring partner he has brought in to get me ready for what he calls the fight of my life. “I need a show, Jagger! Not a fucking one-punch knockout. If you want more fights, want to make more money so maybe you can plant roots someday, you need to listen to me!” I bounce up and down, looking at the beast he brings in the ring next. He calls him Kid for good reason. The fucker has a Kid Rock look: long-ass brown hair and scruffy as shit. He’s pulling it back in one of those man buns, and I can’t help laughing. The guy is a good four inches taller than me and outweighs me by about thirty pounds of muscle, but I am not intimidated at all, and not for his lack of trying, either. His eyes are locked on mine, his jaw set and begging to be busted. His nose looks to already

have been at least a half dozen times, and he’s not intimidated at all. “Kid’s not gonna hold back.” “Wouldn’t want him to hold back.” I give him a smirk, and he scowls. I pound my chest. “Bring it on, Man Bun.” As he growls, Shaw gives me a jab to the shoulder. “He’s new to the scene and doesn’t give a fuck about a title. Kid just got released from state for manslaughter. You hearing me?” “Yeah, Man Bun killed someone, and you think that shit’s gonna scare me.” “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Shaw says and then rings the bell. “Give me your best, Kid.” I laugh, beckoning him with my hands. Fucker doesn’t move. He just stands there, and it pisses me off. “Fine, have it your way.” I lunge forward, sweep his legs out, and hit him hard with a left. He goes down hard, and I expect him to stay, but he doesn’t. He shakes his head like a dog shaking off slobber from his muzzle and pops up. I go in quick and give him a jab to the right. He doesn’t fall back this time. He lunges forward, and we both go down. Blow for blow, we exchange rib shots, chest shots, and face shots. I manage to get out from under him and am on top, beating the hell out of him, when I get yanked off. When he jumps up and comes at me, I sweep him again, and he falls hard. Fucker doesn’t stay down. He’s up again. He lunges, and we go down, grappling, wrestling, fighting for top position and throwing jabs when we can. Again, I come out on top, and again, I am pulled off. Three more times, this happens. No knockouts, neither of us giving up, just two men fighting something bigger than each other. Finally, Shaw breaks us apart and calls it. I have a metallic taste in my mouth and feel my right eye immediately swelling. “Grab some fucking ice,” Shaw barks at one of the gym rats. “Now, both of you, sit your asses down.” I sit and look at Kid, and he looks at me. “Kid’s coming with us tomorrow to the fight. I expect shit to go bad. Cobra’s camp has been really fucking quiet.” “So you think I need him to keep me safe, Shaw? Come on. I’m the champion. Rock City loves me and—” “Your head is swelled from the win, and you haven’t been training like you should. You need him”—he points at Kid—“and he needs you.” Kid grumbles some shit under his breath. “For what?” “ ’Cause I might be stepping back, and he might be stepping in around here.” I’m shocked to hear that shit coming out of his mouth. “I’m getting too old for this shit, Jagger. Kid’s dad and I were friends, best friends. He’s gone, and I promised him I would take care of his boy when he got out. Kid’s family. So are you. You’ll do this, and so will he.”

Chapter 8

Tatiana I left. I did it. Now what am I supposed to do? I make my way to Caldwell’s. Only it’s late, and the bar is closed. I didn’t think this through at all. The area is a little nicer than where my apartment is, but late at night, the streets of Detroit aren’t good. I step back and try to find a place nearby to hunker down for the next few hours until someone comes back in. I turn the corner of the building, lost in thought. Bam. I am stopped by the broad chest of a man. As I stumble backward, two firm hands reach out and grip my upper arms, holding me steady. My eyes travel up the tight T-shirt and into the molten eyes of the fighter, the one Jagger beat at the fight. What is his name? Striker? Cobra? Something like that. Panic fills me. Good touch. Bad touch. This man definitely likes bad touch. It seems to radiate off him. He peers down at me, his eyes dancing in the darkness with some emotion I can’t read. “Innocence,” he whispers so quietly I almost can’t make out what he says. “Umm…” I’m unsure if he knows who I am or what he plans to do with me. When I step back, trying to pull out of his hold, one arm releases me while the other remains firm. He strokes my cheek with the back of his knuckles, and instinctively I jerk away. My belly tightens as fear takes hold. “Little Mouse, I won’t hurt you.” Somehow, I doubt that. There is a hunger in his eyes that scares me to my core. He releases me, and I turn to run, but firm hands grip me again. “Calm down!” he orders, and I tense more. “Come with me. I’ll keep you safe till Playmaker is free to handle his latest conquest.” Confusion must show on my face, even in the darkness. “Caldwell,” he clarifies. “I’ll keep you safe till Caldwell is free to deal with you.” I nod my head in understanding. Hitmaker is Jagger’s fight name, but for whatever reason, this guy calls him Playmaker. Still, I’m not sure I should go with him. My face throbs, my neck burns, and my sides cry out in agony with every step. I want to wait here, but how long will I be alone, outside in the street? Now that I know Jagger has just married, who do I have? Is this my new forever—running, hiding, never knowing good? Before either of us can say another word, my stomach growls loudly. “Come on, Mouse. I have a place close by. I’ll feed you, and you can sleep off your injuries.”

I gasp, realizing he can see what a mess I am. I need to hide, and he is offering me the only place right now. Without speaking, I step forward to him. Once he releases his hold and takes me by the hand, leading me to some old muscle car, I hop in. Then he cranks the engine and revs it, sending chills down my spine. Suddenly questions are going crazy in my mind. Why was he here? Was he following me? Was he waiting for Jagger? What am I doing? I’m in a car with a complete stranger. Panic fills me. I am beyond stupid. Why did I leave home? I am so confused and scared. What have I done? I reach for the door handle, but Cobra puts his hand on my thigh to stop me. I hiss, and he smiles. “Typically you should be afraid of me, Mouse, but tonight you don’t need to be.” I look at him, wide-eyed and fearful. “Do you speak English?” Oh, my saving grace. He’s another one who assumes. I shake my head. “Do you understand me?” I shrug my shoulders, as if I somewhat can comprehend him. “What the hell has Caldwell gotten into with this mouse?” Cobra mutters to himself. “She probably isn’t even here legally. Of all the moments to get a conscience, I get one now.” He removes his hand from my thigh and lays his head against his headrest. “What the hell do I do with her now? I was trying to help the frail thing until Caldwell could get his head from between my girl’s legs long enough to handle his own problems. Now I have a half-starved, beat-up, quiet mouse who can’t speak English in my car and no clue what to do next other than feed her if I can keep her from jumping out of the car. Way to go, Jason! First good deed ever, and you pick the doozy of a deal.” I fight back the urge to laugh at him. He sincerely wants to help me. I don’t understand why Jagger’s head would be between his girl’s legs, but whatever. Americans have crazy slang, anyway. With my hand still on the door, I look over at the clearly conflicted man in the driver’s seat. He has short blond hair, striking features, and a tight jawline. His eyes are closed while his plump lips continue to move as he fights some battle inside himself. Then my stomach growls again, gaining his attention. He looks to me, and I stare back at him. His eyes have changed from the devious look when we first met to sadness as he gazes at my fresh marks. “Does it hurt?” he whispers, and I nod. “Let’s get you fed and cleaned up.” There is true sympathy found in his tone that I find comfort in, so I nod and move my hand to rest on my lap. “Buckle up, Mouse. We’re both in for a new ride,” Cobra whispers as he puts the car in gear. “What the hell am I doing?” he asks himself as we pull away. Funny, I wonder the same thing about myself. The car ride isn’t long, and it is very quiet. We pull up to a nicer building than my own and get out once Cobra parks. He takes me by the hand and leads me to an elevator, which we

take up to his apartment. It’s definitely newer than my home and well done with modern upgrades. I’m surprised at how nice it is. It must show since Cobra smiles at me. “My girlfriend picked it.” I nod. I see now. This definitely isn’t the home of a bachelor. I have cleaned enough apartments after people have moved out to know there is a difference when there is a woman’s touch. The space is done in shades of teal, orange, and light gray. Everything is contemporary and modern with clean lines and abstract designs. “Only one bedroom, so you gotta take the couch. I would give you my bed, but when Missy finishes with Caldwell, she’ll come home. She always does.” Pain slices through my gut. What does he mean, when she’s done with Caldwell? Cobra walks away while I stand there in his entryway, dumbfounded. He comes back with a first aid kit. “Let’s clean you up, and then I’ll make you some soup.” — My night with Cobra was probably the best night I have ever had, aside from the moment Jagger Caldwell kissed me. After he helped clean up my wounds and ice my swollen face, he made me a bowl of soup. I had to laugh at the alphabet letters swimming in sauce, and I almost spit out the warm meal when Cobra smiled and said we could practice my ABCs and one, two, threes. That is when I spilled my secret that I could, indeed, speak English. After he called me a clever girl, we called it a night since it was after four in the morning. It’s now late afternoon, and Cobra’s girlfriend didn’t come home last night. He seems on edge as he prowls around the place. “Need clothes, Mouse?” “I’m pretty sure we established my name is Tatiana, Jason.” “Mouse suits you.” He smirks, and I smile. “I have clothing in my bag, thank you.” I grab my stuff and head to the bathroom, where I quickly shower and dress in jeans and a plain white shirt. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I add the green ribbon to it before making my way back out to Cobra’s living space. Cobra is dressed in distressed jeans and a tight black T-shirt. His muscles are clearly on display, and he is one well-cut man. There are no tattoos like Jagger’s to distract from each flex and tic in his arms. His body screams business. I learned that about him last night. He is all about making it. His business is fighting, and that is his life. It makes me wonder what drives Jagger to fight. It also makes me wonder about each of his tattoos. What do they mean? Are they trophies of his battles? Are they symbols of wars that still rage in his heart? Are they simply something he wanted? “Eager to find Caldwell?” Cobra asks, making me wonder if it is that obvious. “Not so much eager as much as I know he can help me.” “The way you gripped that business card last night and now makes me wonder if it’s more

than help you seek from Playmaker.” I look down at the tattered paper, knowing in my heart that Cobra is right. It is more than help I seek. It is life I want, and somehow I find Jagger Caldwell to be my lifeline. I can’t explain. I just know it. “What does it matter? He once offered to help me, and he is good for his word, is he not?” I ask, realizing just how little I know of him. “Actions speak louder than words, Mouse. Where was your knight when you needed him?” I shrug my shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling that Cobra knows something he isn’t sharing with me. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t like he was expecting me.” “No, but why rely on Caldwell? I’ll help you, Mouse.” “Why?” I ask. “Why would you help me? Jagger knows my situation. Why do you suddenly care?” Something crosses his features. “Redemption.” “That is a powerful word,” I reply. “I’m a bad man, Tatiana.” His words send chills down my spine. What have I done? How could I trust so easily? “I was raised by a bad man and became exactly what I hated most.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Why tell me this? You’re scaring me.” “Have you ever heard the saying ‘If you love something, let it go’?” I nod. “I can’t let her go. We fight, Mouse. Missy and I fight.” He drops his head in shame. “Your face, Mouse, I did that to her. More than once.” I gasp in shock. “How? Why?” “Rage. Reaction. It all makes sense in the moment, but it doesn’t once it’s over. I don’t want to hurt her—I want to love her—but she makes me so angry.” “I don’t know much, but love shouldn’t be anger.” “She runs to him. Every fucking chance she gets, she goes to Caldwell. I want her to run to me.” He meets my gaze, and I see the pain in his eyes. “She can’t when she’s scared of you.” “I know.” “I think I should be going.” He moves to stand in front of me, blocking my path. “Do I scare you, Mouse?” “Yes,” I whisper. “Take away what you learned of me just now. Before then, did I scare you?” His words come back to me. He views me as his redemption. “Yes and no.” He raises his eyebrows at me in question. “Everyone scares me in some way. Your actions of caring for me last night took away my fear.” “Do you believe people can change?” “I believe that if someone wants to change, they can, but it has to be for themselves, not anyone else.”

“You are wise, Little Mouse.” Cobra smiles. “You should know Caldwell has a reputation.” “So do you, apparently.” He sighs. “True. You need to know you can count on me too, Tatiana. You don’t have to rely on him. You can stay here as long as you need. Caldwell likes the ladies. He likes variety and frequent change.” Time to be strong and time to hold on to hope that Jagger is who my heart tells me he is. “I don’t need a warning, but thank you.” Without another word, he turns around and grabs his keys, and then we make our way out of his place. Arriving back at Caldwell’s, we find the place is crowded. Outside, I see a woman in what looks to be a wedding dress, yelling at an old, disheveled-looking man. I also see Jagger in a suit, and he is handsome. My heart beats wildly in my chest as the commotion stops, and everyone makes their way inside. I shouldn’t have come here. This is definitely not the day to bother him. I turn and rush around the corner to the alley where Cobra is waiting. He takes one look at my face and takes me by the hand, leading me away. He starts the car without saying a word. We drive for a while before Cobra looks over at me and says, “I don’t want to say this, Mouse, but knowing Jagger, he was probably marrying some poor girl who doesn’t know she has bitten off more than she can chew. Hell, Missy didn’t come home. She may be the one inside, tying herself to him for life. He will expect loyalty, and he won’t return it. This, I know.” My mind spins. Is Jagger that heartless? Is he a womanizer? I don’t know anything about him. “I don’t know what to do.” “Stay with me until you figure it out,” Cobra states as if it’s so easy.

Chapter 9

Jagger I look down at my phone and read the message out loud: “You wanna play a game? How about you and I are cats, and we see who gets the mouse.” I look up at Shaw from behind the curtain. “Message signed with that little worm.” I laugh as I look at the cartoon character that is supposed to represent a cobra. I speak as I type my response, “I ain’t no pussy. How about you be the cat, keep the fucking mouse, and I keep the title? Who’s the champion? I fucking am!” “You sure are, son. You sure are.” Shaw pats my back as I toss my phone on the pile of warm-up clothes sitting on the chair. “Did my brothers call?” I ask Kid. “Probably out looking for the chick you aren’t in love with,” he says, shaking his head. “So they did call? I’ll tell you just what I told them. It isn’t love. I just want her safe, just want her alive.” “Right,” he says. “Well, they didn’t call.” He walks over and peeks out from around the wall at the loud and rowdy spectators. “Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready?” the announcer yells. “This evening is brought to you by Broke Bail Bonds. This is to defend the Rock City Light-Heavyweight Championship. We will have five three-minute rounds. In the Broke Bail red corner, standing at an even six feet tall, weighing in at a cool two hundred three pounds, the man who has vowed to get his title back, the striker, Cooooobra!” “Shut ’Em Down” by Public Enemy blasts, and the crowd goes wild. I assume Cobra is bounding out from across the floor. “In the black corner, sponsored by Caldwell’s Bar, standing six feet one inch, weighing in at a trim one hundred ninety-five pounds, the reigning light-heavyweight champion, Jagger ‘The Hitmaker’ Caldwell!” “Right About It” by Lil Wayne starts, and Shaw gives me the stink eye once again. “No change in songs. This one was good luck.” I give Shaw a half-hug, fist bump Kid, and then my mind gets fight-ready. I hold my hands up in prayer position, look up, and whisper, “Legacy, Momma.” I bound out and see my brothers made it. Then I look around, hopeful they brought the little one with them, but they didn’t. “We’ll find her.” Hendrix clasps his hand on my shoulder. “Make it quick and dirty. This fucker rubs me the wrong way.” I nod and walk out. I am trying to focus, but I’m unable to get my head in the game,

thinking of the little one. Quick and dirty replays in my mind, that’s what it needs to be so I can get out there and find her. “I’ve got something you want,” Cobra sneers. “I think you’ve got that backward.” I laugh haughtily at him, trying to get in his head. The bell rings, and I jab him with a left. The first strike and last, that’s all I care about. Everything in between doesn’t mean shit. I block a couple jabs and then hit him with a right and a sweep. He’s down. “Come on, motherfucker. If you want to be the champ, you better fight like one.” He hops up and spits blood on the ground. “I like to taste the first blood, whether it be from your weak-ass jab or from between a girl’s legs as I pop her little cherry.” He lands a left, and I shake it off. “Not many innocents hanging in your part of town.” I chuckle, fake a jab, and sweep him again. He’s down for only a moment before he grabs me, and then we both go down. “I had one all night long. Fuck, she’s been around for three nights,” he says as he pounds his fist into my ribs. “She’ll figure it out.” I plant my feet flat on the mat and end up on top. His left arm is pinned under my knee as he groans and grunts, trying to free it. I hit him three times in the face. “Her fucking accent kills me. Hot little Russian thing.” My stomach turns. All I can think about is Tatiana. “Looks like a little mouse, but you aren’t interested.” He takes the chance to hit me and pushes me off him. I jump up. “You’re playing a sick fucking game.” “Little Mouse loves to be devoured by the Cobra.” I dive on him, knocking him down. “She’s a kid,” I say as I pound his left side and then his right over and over. “She’s no fucking kid. She’s a little nymph. Can’t get enough of my dick,” he goads. With one hit to his jaw, he cries out. He crashes to the ground. The announcer starts the count. “One.” “Two.” I bounce around waiting. “Three.” Cobra moves and stands slowly. We dance around each other. His gaze is unfocused. The bell rings, and I am the victor of this round. Rage builds inside me more than ever before. “Where the fuck is she?” I storm toward him. “Corners!” the official snaps. “Fuck corners! Where the fuck is the girl?” “Where she wants to be. With a real man, a true champion, not some fucking piece-of-shit, womanizing, punk-ass—”

The bell rings again, and I dive on him. I am fury and rage, and so is he. We meet each other blow for blow as we dance around the mat and dive. He doesn’t shut his mouth, but I am gonna make sure he does, permanently. His arms surround me, and we go to the ground once again. I swing my arm up and connect with the underside of his jaw, wanting to break it, then tear him apart. Then his finger pushes into my eye, and I get my feet planted as his other hand connects with my face. Hard. “Break it up!” the official screams as Cobra gets pulled off me. I push myself up, banged up pretty badly. “Where the fuck is your focus?” Kid screams at me as he squirts water in my face. When the metallic taste of my own blood fills my mouth, I lean left and spit, then look at my brothers. “Find her! Now!” “Get back,” I hear Kid growl. “No women.” “I just want to talk to him,” I hear her voice and stand up, pushing past Kid. I grab her shoulders and look her over. “He do this to you?” I rub my thumb over her swollen purple lip. She shakes her head as she takes in a breath. “He do this?” I rub my knuckles down her cheek, and tears fall from her eyes. She squeaks out, “No.” “Did he hurt you in any way, little one?” I push her chin up so she looks at me. She swallows hard and shakes her head again. “You fucking him?” I growl out. “You fucking his girl?” she snaps back. “Did you get married? Why does he call you player?” “No, fuck no, and he’s a dick,” I answer as the bell rings. “I don’t know if you’re telling the truth.” “You wouldn’t be standing here if you meant that.” I look at Hendrix. “She stays. Don’t let her leave.” I look back at her. “No one’s gonna hurt you again, little one.” Cobra dives on me as soon as I step in. I am done with his ass. Over. Time to be quick and dirty. I have a girl to talk to. “Lights out, motherfucker,” I say before pushing him off me and hitting him with a right hook that is fueled by need. I turn and look at Hendrix as they count him out. “Fuck the bell, he’s out.” As my brothers run to me, Hendrix has Tatiana’s elbow, dragging her behind. I grab her and lift her so we are eye to eye. “You’re gonna be okay.” “How do I know that?” she asks with a slight tremble. “ ’Cause I said so. That’s why.” After the money is exchanged, Tatiana, Kid, Shaw, Hendrix, Morrison, and I exit out the back. Kid pulls up with Shaw. I am high off my win as I get in the back of Shaw’s SUV and wave goodbye to Hendrix and Morrison, Tatiana at my side. I look straight ahead, avoiding eye contact because I can’t be fucking trusted. However, I do

feel the weight of her eyes. Then her hand grips my thigh. “Good touch,” she whispers with a smile giving off false confidence. I’m a rule breaker, but this is not a rule I’m going to break. I should move it, push it away, but I don’t. “When will you be eighteen?” “Three days,” she says, and I nearly break my neck from the speed I turn toward her. Her eye is swollen, her lips bruised, and she’s a mess, a beautiful mess. “In three days, you better know what’s coming for you.” She better know what’s coming for her. Her hand rises higher on my thigh. “Good touch.” She’s fucking killing me here. “The fucking champion.” A hint of a smile brightens her eyes, and I shake my head. “You should run, little one.” “I did, and I ended up here.” When her hand rises again, threatening to brush up against the tent I’m sporting, I place my hand over hers, stopping it. “You sure you know what you’re asking for?” She nods. “I’m not a little girl. I know what I’ve had in life and what I want in the future. Good touch.” “Fuck me,” I groan as I lean back, take her hand, and hold it to my chest.

Chapter 10

Tatiana I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t be with him. I can’t stop myself, though. I want his touch. I want his safety. I want anything and everything he can give me. Something in the power exchange of the fight has me on a high. I am not comfortable with the violence, but there is a certain energy in the atmosphere that feeds on everyone in the space, including me. Cobra brought me to the fight tonight. He told me to stay out of sight. However, when Jagger was fighting him and seemed so angry, I needed to do something. I needed to be a comfort. After he knocked Cobra out, I should have stayed. I should have stayed to make sure my friend was okay. As much as Cobra warned me he is a bad man, he was nice to me. It still scares me that he could hit his girlfriend, a woman he claims to love, but he didn’t hit me. He could have harmed me in all sorts of ways, but instead he gave me a safe haven until I could get to Jagger. There is something between us. Some unknown pull that keeps driving me back to him no matter what. He thought I was sleeping with Cobra. He says he didn’t sleep with Missy. We definitely need to communicate better. I have never felt jealousy before. Truth be told, I have never felt anything but fear…until Jagger Caldwell. Now I have so many emotions I am dizzy trying to sort them all. He makes me feel like a woman and not a child. He makes my body burn from the inside out. He makes me want things I have only read about in books. He makes me want to give in to wild abandon when I grew up afraid of my own shadow. How can one person do all of this to me when I barely know him? Jagger certainly seems to be ready to leap tall buildings and save the damsel in distress. We get to the front of Caldwell’s. Jagger leads me to his car. “Buckle up,” he says, pointing to the seatbelt, and then opens the glove box and grabs a phone. “It’s all set up. My number is under here.” He hits the green square with a phone on it and hands it to me. “Click favorites. My name is in there. The only one you’ll ever need.” I nod my head. “Now hit the thing that looks like a cartoon bubble, and then type me a message and hit send.” I do as he asks while he pulls away from the curb, and his phone starts playing music. “Good. Now your number is in my phone and you know how to text. If you ever need anything, anything at all, you call who?” “The champ,” I say with a smile that always takes over my lips when I think of him. He smirks and nods. “That’s right, little one.”

“You don’t have to do all of this for me, you know. I’m not helpless. I managed to get by the last few days.” He growls at me, yes, growls. “You stay away from Cobra.” “He’s a bad man,” I say smartly. “I know. He told me.” “He told you?” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Yes, he found me outside of Caldwell’s when I was looking for you. He kept me safe and we talked. He’s my friend.” I try to defend Cobra. Obviously there is a history between the two and it’s not a good one. Cobra told me, but I didn’t think Jagger would hold such a grudge as well. “He’s nobody’s friend, little one.” “He was nice to me, Jagger.” He looks away from me and I decide not to press it further. For now, I want to be in the moment with the person who has given me the drive to push through the last year of my hell. Nothing else is said, but I can’t stop looking at him. Once in a while, he looks over, but only for a second. Each time he seems to wiggle in his seat, so I look away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. We stop at a hotel where Jagger has me wait in the car while he secures a room. Once inside, I can’t help gawking at the suite. I have never in my life stayed some place so nice. I trail my finger along the crisp, clean soft-gray wall as I make my way inside a bathroom that is larger than my father’s bedroom. A tub large enough to drown in sits to the right, and a shower that has a bench is off to the left. Directly in front is a countertop with side-by-side sinks along with every toiletry I could imagine. I listen as Jagger moves around in the room behind me, and I wonder if he can afford such a luxurious place. After all, he did live in the apartment next door to me for over a year, and the people who live in our building rarely pay on time or in full. Looking around, I can’t help wondering if one night here costs more than one month’s rent to my father. Nervously, I make my way to the bedroom, which is just beyond a nice sitting area with a couch, chair, and flat-screen television. The king-sized bed is huge compared to the twin I normally sleep on. The bedding is fluffy and done in blues and yellows, making everything feel brighter. I want to flop down on the bed and wiggle around, but because Jagger is watching me intently I stop myself to avoid coming off as childish. When I meet his gaze, he turns his lips up in a half-smile that has my girlie parts clinching. This man is powerful, sexy, and everything I could ever dream about. “This all you got?” he asks, holding up my backpack. “Yes. I didn’t think too far ahead,” I admit, seeing it as a failure. Jagger’s smile grows bigger. “Little one, you brought the essentials.” I laugh at him. The essentials, sure, if that’s what he wants to call them. I brought my treasures. I brought the gifts he has been leaving me for months now. I left behind my father’s belongings and took only what I could claim as my own. I sit on the plush bed and watch as Jagger finishes unpacking the few things I managed to grab when I left, and embarrassment fills me as he touches each item. They probably mean nothing to him, but they are everything to me.

When Jagger’s phone rings, stopping any further conversation between us, his brows draw together as he looks at the screen. “Johnny Fuckin’ Law, what a surprise,” Jagger answers, and I strain to hear the man through the phone. I can only hear mumbling before Jagger replies, making a smirk. “Oh, now, now, coppa,” Jagger goads him, “I’m not playing any games.” There is a pause as the person responds. “Who exactly is she? If you’re looking for your momma, well, she’s choking on cock right now and can’t come to the phone.” I stifle a giggle at the brash Jagger who clearly doesn’t like this Johnny person. Something is said that has Jagger tense up. “Is that a threat, Lawman?” I hear the man on the other end say my name and my apartment being the scene of a crime. Instantly this is no longer funny. Jagger’s face pales, and my heart beats wildly in my chest. “Homicide,” I hear Johnny say and my heart skips a beat. Who was killed at my apartment? “No, I wouldn’t,” Jagger states calmly. There is mumbling again. “Why me?” “Rand had no enemies…except you.” I vaguely make out as Jagger looks to the ceiling. “I’ll meet you there. I am innocent, Johnny. I’m telling you that right now. We’ve been friends. You know me. You’re walking a fine line. Just like a field sobriety test, Johnny, you step off the line, you fail. Then you and I will be on opposite sides of that line. In this instance, our past won’t mean shit.” Jagger slides his finger across the phone screen, ending the call. “Fuck!” he roars in frustration as he rakes his hand through his dark-brown hair. Then he looks at me, and I fight back tears. My apartment is the scene of a homicide…what if it’s my father? What if it’s a reaction to all the pills? For all these months, did I do something long term to him? What if I killed him? I just needed relief. I needed safety. I didn’t mean to kill him. Questions scream inside my head, yet no words come out. “Sit tight, little one. Don’t let anyone in or out of the room other than room service. I’ve gotta go take care of something.” I reach out to stop him as he passes the bed. “Jagger, it was me,” I whisper. “What?” he asks with confusion on his face. “I did it. I’m the reason my father is dead.” Sure, it’s an assumption it was him, but who else could be dead at the building? When I left, he was snoring, but he sure wasn’t moving. “Little one, you shouldn’t listen in on people’s conversations. I sincerely doubt you killed your father. Johnny is just dicking with me. I’ll go down, answer some questions, and find out the truth behind all of this homicide nonsense. I assure you, Tatiana, you have nothing to do with this.” He kisses my forehead softly. “Order something to eat and charge it to the

room. I’ll be back later.” Then he leaves without another word or even looking back. Emotions run rampant through me. Fear clinches my gut as I think I really killed him somehow, and then unease courses through my veins as I wonder what the future holds for me. Will I be sent back to Russia? Will I go to prison? Will anyone believe me about him beating on me? What happens next? Where will I go? Absently, I order some food and sit on the bed while grief and anguish consume me. My one and only lifeline is dead. No, things weren’t good for me, but he was all I had. He did the best he could. At least, that’s what he always said. Guilt fills me. I gave him too much antihistamine. He was an old man. Well, I don’t consider fifty old, but maybe he had a heart condition. The box did say not to take with certain medical conditions. I look around the room, then stand and go to the dresser, where Jagger has unpacked my bag as if I am staying here for a while. I don’t belong here, though. The knock at the door makes me jump. Looking through the peephole, I see it’s room service, so I pull the door back and wait as the man drops the tray on the sitting area coffee table. I scribble on the paper he gives me, making sure my name is a bunch of lines and not legible. Then he leaves, and I go back to the open drawers of the dresser. Half of me wants to shove everything back in my bag and go home, not that I have a home anymore. I’m not of age, my only parent is dead—most likely from me—and if I go back, I have to tell them I drugged him. Jagger said he would be back. The stronger half of me, the part of me that can’t stop thinking of the tattooed hero, wants to sit tight and wait to find out what Jagger knows. What if this Johnny person was just messing with him and my father is alive? If I come home now after being gone for so many days, he will certainly kill me. Closing the drawers, I go back over to my food. I open the lid and move the items around on the plate, my appetite gone. Too many questions plague me, and anxiety has my stomach doing somersaults inside. I curl into myself on the couch and decide my only option for the time being is to wait. Fear of the unknown is still challenging me, but for now, I have had four days without someone hitting me. I shouldn’t trust so easily. Something in Jagger screams to me he’s good. Something pulls me to him in a way I thought could only be found in books. Jagger Caldwell will come back, and I will wait for him. I have to believe there will be good for me. Jagger is that good.

Chapter 11

Jagger The urge to comfort her sent my lips to her forehead, and that one gesture, one to comfort her, instantly became something more. Comfort, protect, claim… I hope it comforted her, ’cause it made shit below my waist less than comfortable in 2.2 seconds. Protect comes next, but I couldn’t even look back because I knew that’s not what I would do. Claim was third on my list of things to do, and I can’t do that for three days, but I fully intend to. I stop in front of the gym and hop out, using my key to get in. Seeing the light on in Shaw’s office, I walk to it, then push the door open, and Kid and Shaw look up at me. “What the hell are you doing here?” Shaw growls at me as I see Kid shove syringes and little vials into a cooler. “What the hell is going on?” I ask. Kid stands up and nods to Shaw. “You need to do this now.” He looks at me and nods as he walks past and out the door. “Sit down, boy,” Shaw grumbles at me, and I do as I am told. I sit in the silver metal chair and lean forward. “What’s going on?” “First, you tell me what you’re doing here.” I look at him, really look. His eyes have a yellow tint to them, and his skin has a gray shade. I have seen that coloring before. I have been so caught up in Tatiana all these months, I haven’t even seen what has been going on right in front of my face. The coughing, the puking, the weight loss, the fatigue. It all slams into me like a sucker punch to the gut. Cancer. “You sick?” “I said you first,” he grumbles as he grabs a half-burned-out Swisher Sweet and his Zippo. “Spill it, kid,” he says as he lights it up. “The girl’s father is dead. I got called down by Johnny to answer some questions. Didn’t want to tell you over the phone, but I need an alibi that doesn’t involve the fight tonight.” “You was here, training.” He exhales the sweet-smelling smoke. “Good, now your turn.” “Dying.” He looks me in the eyes. “Nothing can be done. Wasn’t gonna tell ya until—” “You’re what?” “Got the cancer, kid.” He sucks in another drag. “Nothing can be done.” Fuck! Not this shit again.

“How ’bout you quit smoking?” “How ’bout you shut the hell up and let me go in peace?” His eyes are getting heavy, so I know whatever Kid gave him is kicking in. “You better go,” he says as he crushes the cigar out in the ashtray. “We’ll talk later.” “This is more important,” I mumble. “Look, I never had kids, but I got you, and I swore an oath to a friend that I’d look after Kid. You and him is all I got. Both of you need to stick together, help me get through this, but you damn sure better let me go.” “You asking or telling?” “Telling,” he says, looking at me sternly. I feel emotions boiling. “I love you, man. You sure nothing can be done? I will do whatever the fuck you want.” “Good, now get your ass outta here and go tell Johnny you was with me. Then take care of that girl.” “She’s so fucking young.” He smirks. “Then you train her up right. Now go.” He stands, holding himself up on his desk. “Kid!” The door opens, and Kid walks in. He looks at me, and I look at him, understanding passing in that one look. Then I nod. “Love you, man.” I give Shaw a quick one-armed hug, then get the fuck out of the gym before I lose my shit. I hop in my car and punch the steering wheel a few times before starting her up. As I drive to the cop shop, I think of Momma, of Shaw, and I think of Tatiana. Previously, when shit got deep like this, I ran. I ran off steam, ran away from my problems, ran until I could make some sense of the upside-down shit in the world. I ran until I could visualize me making it right. Then I went to Shaw’s and beat the shit out of a bag until I was exhausted physically. After that, I would sink into something warm until I was surrounded by a feeling that trumped my need for pain, my release. Right now, I need to run, need to hit shit, need to fuck, but first I have to make sure the little one is going to be okay. I walk in through the double doors of the cop shop where Johnny Law is pacing behind a desk. “Next time, I’ll come get you,” he growls at me. I smirk. “You do what you gotta do.” After he lets out a frustrated groan and waves me back, I hear the familiar click of the door being unlocked, and I pull it open with a laugh. “What’s so funny, Caldwell?” Johnny’s eyes narrow at me. “First time I’ve opened this door myself. Usually, I’m wearing steel bracelets.” He shakes his head. “You know that’s not true, Jagger.” “It was a joke. Since you decided to cross this line, I guess it will probably be true in the future,” I say and I follow him to his office.

“Have a seat.” “Don’t mind if I do. You got any of that shitty coffee?” He looks back, his eyes narrowing. “What, man? I have a craving.” I lean back in the chair, put my feet up on the desk, and relax back, linking my hands behind my neck. “This shit isn’t funny.” He throws down a folder, and it skids to a stop when it hits my feet. “Rand is dead, his daughter is missing, and you, ya smug fuck, have been the one who has been trying like hell to get someone to get the girl out of there. You and she are prime fucking suspects in this homicide.” I let out a sigh, pull my feet off his desk, and grab the folder. Looking inside, two feelings combine inside of me: nausea and relief. “He looks like he fell down the fucking stairs.” “Sure as hell does, and headfirst,” I say, turning the picture sideways. “Must have fucking hurt.” Johnny’s fist slams on the desk. “It’s not a goddamn joke!” “Never said it was.” I close the folder and push it across the desk so it hits his hand. “Sorry, my bad.” “You smug son of a—” “Watch it, Johnny Law,” I snarl at him. “I could arrest you right fucking now.” “I have a rock-solid alibi,” I snap back. “Yeah, so I hear. Should I congratulate you on your win, Hitmaker?” “Well, that would be nice, but I prefer champ.” I stand up and look at my watch. “I have places to go, people to see, and you obviously have no intention of arresting me, or you would have by now. My word is all I have in this world, and you and I both know that when I say I didn’t kill the fuck, it’s the truth. I wish I had been the one, and that’s the truth, too.” “Where is the girl?” he snaps. “The girl? No idea what you’re talking about, but I can promise you she didn’t kill him, either. Maybe he just fell down the fucking stairs, man. Drunks do shit like that all the time.” “Is that the truth, Caldwell? You really don’t know where she is?” I don’t answer. “I wanna talk to her,” he says, a little calmer than before. That’s why he hauled me down here. He can’t find Tatiana. Good. I plan to keep it that way. “Well, then I suggest you go find her.” I stop. “Oh, shit, you couldn’t do that, either.” “Nor could you and your brothers,” he says with an arrogance that pisses me off. “How about you stop following us around and try using your super cop abilities?” “How about you keep in mind she’s a fucking minor?” he yells. “For a couple more days, man, that’s all. Then your jacked-up system can’t touch the girl.” “She’ll be an adult then, Caldwell, and then she could end up in State,” he warns. “Not if she didn’t do it.”

“I’m not the enemy here,” he says in a just-as-pissed-off tone. “No. But the badge you hide behind and age have made you lazy and heartless.” “Tread lightly,” he sneers. “You were one hell of a cop once, Johnny, so how about you find him again?” I open the door and look back. “After you put this shit to rest about a homicide. A drunk fell down the stairs, case fucking closed.” “Don’t go far, Caldwell. If the autopsy proves otherwise, I’ll need a statement.” I don’t say shit, just keep walking out. — I walk into Caldwell’s, having expected to chat with my brothers, but apparently the afterfight crowd left after two hours of waiting for me. I feel kind of bad knowing that would have brought in a whole lot of revenue for Hendrix, Livi, and Sally. After apologizing to Sally and her assuring me it was still a good night, I throw a fifty on the bar and walk out. “Where the fuck is the mouse?” I hear a familiar voice growl. I spin around and grab his shirt collar. “None of your fucking business!” I slam Cobra against the brick wall. “She is my fucking friend,” he huffs as he pushes me back. “So, yeah, it is my fucking business!” I step back in shock. “Her friend? Her fucking friend who lied to her about me? A man who kept her from me, knowing damn well she—” “You don’t deserve a chick like that!” “And you do?” I laugh. “You fucked my girl. Missy,” he growls as his eyes narrow. Mine narrow right back. “Your girl fucked me after she’d had enough of you knocking her around!” Obviously, the motherfucker can’t get over the past. I haven’t touched her in months. “You took her from me!” “No man will ever take her from you. She’s so fucked up because of you!” I push him and expect it back, want it back. Instead he shoves his hands in his pockets and stands there like the coward he truly is. He doesn’t look me in the eye when he says, “That little mouse is my friend.” “She’s nothing to you. You understand me? Nothing!” He glares up at me, veins bulging in his forehead. I want him to strike. I want him to so I can unload the hate I have inside for men like him, for a man who thinks it’s okay to put his fucking hands on a woman. “She deserves better than you.” I laugh out of anger. “And better than me is you?” “You and I aren’t much different, Caldwell,” he snaps. “Right, the street fighter who tries to make all the people think the silver-spoon-toting rich kid grew up like we did. You’re a fucking joke; that’s what you are.”

His eyes light up red as he looks at me. “You tell her I would do whatever the fuck I had to in order to keep her safe, and I will do so even after you’ve had your way with her. I’ll pick up her pieces, and I will—” “You’ll lose your fucking teeth if you even think about going near her, maybe even your life!” “Pft. You ain’t got that in ya any more than you have the ability to take care of a girl like her. When you come down off your hero’s high, she’ll be nothing to you, but me, I am a true hero now. Like it or not, Caldwell, I’m more than willing and able to take her on.” I lunge forward, ready to put him down, when I see red lights flashing and a siren squawks once. “Break it up and get home. Both of you!” I look behind me to see Johnny in a squad car. The fucker is following me. Shit! I step back. “Consider this your lucky fucking day!” Cobra stomps off, avoiding Johnny’s stare. “Walking that line, Johnny,” I say, meeting his gaze before he turns and gets back in his car. Well, I know he’s on my tail, so I can’t go back to Tatiana now. I get in my car and head to my brother’s house. I walk up the stairs to Hendrix and Livi’s place, hearing them laughing as I walk in the door. “It’s gonna be a boy!” She giggles louder. “I hope to hell it’s a girl, one who looks just like you and acts just as crazy as her momma,” Hendrix says. “Oh, oh, Hendrix,” she moans. “Um, you two decent?” I ask before rounding the corner. “You fucking kidding me?” Hendrix growls, and I hear the leather of the couch move. Livi giggles. “Yes, come in.” I give them a minute before I walk into the living room, where I’m met by Hendrix’s glaring eyes. “Did I interrupt?” “You fucking think?” Hendrix looks at me like I’m a fucking idiot. “Of course not. Sit down,” Livi says as she elbows Hendrix. “I need your help,” I say as I sit. Hendrix nods once, and Livi smiles. I know the fucker told her. “We’re family, so the answer is already yes.”

Chapter 12

Tatiana What is that noise? Something is wailing about a champion of the world and fighting to the end. I look around to find the noise is coming from the phone Jagger gave me. “We Are the Champions.” He is the champion. I smile to myself as the music continues to assault my ears. Staring at the screen, I slide to answer per Jagger’s instructions. Lifting it to my ear, I pause. “Tatiana?” he questions, and the deep timbre of his voice saying my name gives me chills. “Yes,” I manage to say slightly above a whisper. “Something came up, and I can’t come back to you. The hotel is safe, and my sister-in-law, Livi, will be there in the morning to bring you some clothes.” “Is everything okay? Are you in jail?” I ask as panic fills me. There is no need for anyone to go to jail for my crimes. I should turn myself in. He laughs. “No, I’m not in jail. They don’t allow personal cellphones in lockup.” “Oh.” “Everything is okay, but we have both had a long damn night, and it’s now working into the early hours of the morning. Let’s get some rest, and I’ll see you as soon as I can. Until then, Livi will be by to check on you.” Not sure what else I can say or do, I simply reply, “Okay.” There is a long silence between us. “Tatiana, you’ve gotta hang up now.” “Okay,” I whisper. Another pause. “Red button,” he whispers. “Okay.” No words, yet I can’t bring myself to turn off the call. “Totty,” he says, and my heart flutters at the nickname. “Gotta rest.” “Okay.” Nothing. “Talk to me,” Jagger says, and I hear him moving around. “I can’t come to you right now. I’m sorry.” “Jagger.” I pause, not sure I can get words out. “Totty, whatever you need.” He sighs. “Whatever. I’ll make it happen.”

“Jagger, is he…?” I feel the lump build in my throat and close my eyes. “Is my father…? Is he…really dead?” His hesitation is all the answer I need. “Totty, this is not a conversation I want to have when I’m not in front of you.” “I did it, didn’t I?” He lets out a frustrated growl. “No, he fell down the stairs.” “Don’t lie to me, Jagger Caldwell.” “One thing I won’t do is lie, Totty. You need to know the man I am, the man my momma raised me to be. I am a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. Even when it hurts, baby— and believe me, shit is gonna hurt sometimes—I’ll tell you the truth.” He pauses, waiting for my reply. I say nothing. “Totty, you did not have anything to do with what happened to your old man. He was a drunk who fell down the stairs like drunks do.” “The cops…the cops…” I stutter. “The cops, nothing. Johnny and his boys in blue had their chance to save you, and they didn’t. Whatever happened to your old man, it happened, but, baby, it wasn’t on you.” “Are they looking for me?” Once again, his hesitation is all the answer I need. “Totty—” he starts. “No, Jagger!” I cut him off sharply. “Are the police looking for me? Is that why you are staying away…to keep them from finding me? If I didn’t kill him, why are they looking for me?” He breathes heavily in the phone. “You gonna make everything difficult?” he whispers more to himself than as if he intended for me to hear, so I don’t reply. “They are looking for you, but not because of your old man’s tumble. He reported you missing, so they have been looking for you since before he was found.” “Then I should turn myself in just so they know I didn’t do it.” “You’re a minor. I’m also not sure what paperwork your father ever did for you to come here. Stay in the hotel until your birthday. Then we can straighten all of this out.” I don’t understand why he cares. My father is dead. As a result, Jagger Caldwell doesn’t have to look out for me anymore. “I can go home, Jagger.” “Not until you’re legal, you can’t. You’ve got no one here. The system is whack. They will have you in a halfway house for juveniles and tied up until you lose everything. Sit tight till your birthday, and then we can sort out the future.” My mind goes crazy with so many thoughts. I have only Jagger’s word and this connection we share to rely on. I have never felt like a kid, never felt young until this very moment when my naïveté makes me feel like a complete fool. How can I trust a stranger? How can I not? I have been in a bubble of my father’s making, and I know nothing of real life. I am not a child —he beat that out of me years ago—but I certainly don’t know the first thing about living as an adult. The silence stretches between us. “Totty, you gonna sit tight till Livi gets there with breakfast?”

Reality hits me like a punch to the gut, and my stomach twists. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.” “Little one,” he whispers. “Please, I went insane trying to find you, only to find out you were with Cobra.” “He was nice.” “He’s far from nice, Tatiana.” His statement is firm and serious. “He has been nothing but nice to me.” I defend my only friend other than Jagger. What I have with Cobra is completely different than Jagger. I would describe things with Cobra as that of a sibling. He’s like the brother I never had. “Stay away from him and his crew.” “It doesn’t matter. I won’t see him here, and here is where I will be, remember?” I snap, not knowing why. Jagger has only been nice to me. Only I wish he were here right now and not keeping me hidden like I did something wrong if I really didn’t. “Don’t get testy.” He pauses. “I don’t want to upset you, Totty. I want to take care of you.” “It’s late. You should rest.” “Lock the door,” he calmly reminds. I don’t reply. I move to the door and slide the lock into place. Going back to the bed, I climb in with my slippers on as usual. I wiggle my toes against the soft fabric lining as I listen to Jagger breathe in the phone. “Good night, little one.” “Good night, Jagger Caldwell,” I whisper yet don’t hang up. The silence stretches on, and I have to look to the phone’s screen to see if he disconnected the call. “Hang up, Totty.” “You first,” I challenge. “Good night, Tatiana.” My name rolls off his tongue, smooth as silk. We sit in silence, neither of us speaking and neither of us disconnecting the call. “Jagger?” I whisper. “Totty?” he replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice. Looking to the bedside clock, I see it is nearly four in the morning. “Can you hold the phone till I fall asleep?” I ask, ashamed that I feel so vulnerable. “Anything you want, little one.” Without another word, I snuggle down into the bed and fall asleep. What is it about Jagger Caldwell that keeps all the bad things away?

Chapter 13

Jagger I didn’t sleep for shit. I couldn’t sleep with the thought that she was alone. I grab my phone and call her, knowing damn well I shouldn’t. Hell, if this shit goes badly, Johnny could have me arrested for aiding and abetting. She answers, not saying shit. Good girl. “Did you sleep well?” “I think so.” Her sleepy voice is sexy as hell, and my morning wood gets even harder to ignore. I jump out of bed and make my way across Hendrix’s place to the bathroom to take a piss. I hear her giggle. “What’s so funny?” “You’re peeing.” She giggles again. “My dick’s nothing to laugh about, little one,” I say as I shake it off and then wash my hands. “Good touch,” she whispers, flirting with me. Damn, I think to myself, and a moan escapes my mouth. She mimics my sound, and I nearly lose my mind. “I want good touch,” she whispers to me, “from you.” “Fuck,” I say, shaking my head. She sighs. “Listen, that’s not what you and I are all about, you feel me?” “Oh,” she says in a sad voice that makes my chest ache. “What I mean is that—” “I understand,” she says softly. “No, I don’t think you do. It was never my intention to be nice to you so I could get into your panties. I wanted to make you safe, keep you safe. Shit went wrong after the fight that first night. I stepped over some lines, and I don’t want you to think that’s what this is about. I can get my dick wet anywhere, you understand?” The phone goes dead, and I am left in shock. Fuck that. I dial her back, and she doesn’t say shit again when she accepts the call. “Don’t fucking hang up on me, you understand?”

“Don’t yell at me, you understand?” I hear drawers slamming. “Stop whatever the fuck it is you’re doing and listen to me!” “Why don’t you go give whoever it is you want some of that good touch, Jagger Caldwell, and leave me alone. Maybe I could go see my friend and let him take care of me until I can go home and—” “Over his dead body,” I growl. “The saying is over my dead body,” she says in a pissy little tone that hits me right in the junk. “Not in this fucking situation. You go to him, Tatiana Rand, and I swear it’ll be over his.” During the silence that stretches between us, I remain pissed off about her saying that shit about Cobra. “Then you better not touch anyone else, either,” she says quietly. I can’t help smiling, wishing I could see her asserting herself the way she is. “Don’t you worry about what I do.” “Then you should probably not worry about what I do.” “Impossible,” comes out of my mouth before I can even think straight. Silence again. “You there?” I ask. “Yes,” she says on a sigh. “What are you thinking about?” “You. I’m thinking about you and the way you make me feel. I’ve never felt like this before, Jagger, so you either just step away and let me deal with the mess I have created, or you tell me it’s okay that I feel as jealous over what you just said about…touching someone else as you seem to feel when I mention his name.” “I don’t want you to feel any way about me, Tatiana, except that you trust me to help you. I also should mention I did say I could get my dick wet anywhere, but I never said I was gonna. You also need to know that, as much as I don’t want you feeling any way about me, I sure as hell can’t turn off what I feel about you. So…” I sigh and shake my head. “So…” She sighs back. A couple minutes go by with neither of us saying anything. “You still there?” I ask. “Uh-huh,” she says, sounding like she’s crying. “Damn, little one, don’t cry.” “I—” She stops. “I’ve never felt the way I do about you.” “You’ll be running toward something better than me someday. There just hasn’t been anyone else yet, but there will be.” “There has been someone else. Cobra was very nice to me, and guess what? I felt nothing for him other than friendship. Nothing.” “It’s a good damn thing. I’d kill him.” She laughs, and damn if it isn’t the sweetest sound I ever heard.

“I’m not coming within a mile of you until you’re eighteen or until you decide how bad I would be for you.” “Someone’s at the door.” She sounds nervous as hell, and I am feeling that way too. “Go look out the peephole and tell me what you see.” I hear her feet pad across the floor. “It’s a woman with a bag.” “Keep the chain latched and open it.” She does, and I hear Livi’s voice. “Hi, Tatiana. I’m Livi Caldwell, Jagger’s sister.” “Open it up, little one. She’s one of the good guys.” “He says open the door,” she says to Livi. “I’ll wait,” Livi says in the background. “Two more days and we should be all set and ready to get you living the way you deserve to be,” I tell her. “I hope she likes me,” Tatiana whispers. “She will. I’ll call you tonight, okay?” “Okay,” she says, then hangs up. I head to the kitchen and make a shake. I couldn’t eat if I wanted to right now, but there is no way I am going to lose what I have been working so hard to gain. It’s not just the strength or the weight, though. I need to know I can protect her always, especially with Cobra hot on her heels. Cat and mouse, fuck that! While slamming down the shake, my phone rings, showing Shaw’s number. “What’s up, old man?” I answer, keeping it light, especially now with death looming over his head. “Meet me at the hospital. The ambulance just took Shaw in.” I hear Kid’s voice break. “It’s not good, man, not good at all.” “On my way.” I head up and run in my room to grab my clothes. This can’t be it. I can’t lose someone else. While I’m throwing them on, Hendrix peeks in. “You okay?” “Fuck no, I’m not okay!” I yell, then break. My knees hit the floor, and I scream out in rage as my fists pound against the wood over and over again. Hendrix grabs me from behind and jacks my arms back. “What the fuck is going on? Is it the girl? Livi is with her, so spill it, goddamn you!” “It’s Shaw.” I pull my arms away. “He’s dying. Got cancer.” “Aw, fuck, Jagger.” He releases my arms. I slap away the tears I feel heating up my skin and jump up. “I gotta go. He just got taken to the hospital.” “I’ll drive you. Let’s go.” — I sit next to Shaw, holding the old man’s hand, while Kid sits on the other side, doing the

same. Hendrix steps out to call Livi and let her know what is going on when the doctor walks in. Kid and I both stand as she grabs Shaw’s chart from the end of his bed. She makes her way over to the machine, hits a few buttons, writes some shit down, and then walks back to the foot of the bed and looks at us. “Mr. Shaw has a DNR.” She looks at Kid. “You failed to let the EMTs know that.” His eyes narrow as he shrugs. She looks at me. “You are his healthcare proxy, Mr. Caldwell.” “I’m what?” “It means you make the choices here as to what happens, but by him signing the DNR four months ago, it’s not up to you. If he codes again, we can’t bring him back. If you two”—she looks between us—“have issues with that, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” “They won’t have an issue,” Hendrix says as he walks in, shoving his phone in his pocket. “They may look like a couple of badasses who would put up a fight, but they are loyal to the old man.” She seems to relax a bit, and he reaches out his hand. “Hendrix Caldwell.” She smiles and shakes his hand. “I knew the Caldwell name was familiar, but Hendrix is unforgettable. Your wife is a social worker. Olivia, right?” “Yeah.” He nods and smiles. “Good.” She looks back. “He doesn’t want to suffer, and he doesn’t want the two of you to, either. We will make him as comfortable as possible.” An hour later, I can’t fight the sickness in my stomach anymore. I hate hospitals, the smell, the sounds of the machines, the fucking uncomfortable chairs. “I’m gonna step out. You want coffee?” Kid shakes his head. “Take your time. When you get back, I’ll take a walk too.” I lean down and kiss the old man’s head. “Not ready to let you go, champ. You’re like a father to me, better than any man I ever knew. Fuck, Shaw, I love you, man.” Half an hour later, I am waving goodbye to Hendrix. I told him I would run back to the waterfront, and he knows I need to let off steam. When I walk back in the hospital room, I hear a familiar sound, and I run in. Kid is on his knees next to Shaw’s bed, and I hear him sniffling. I look up as the nurses and the doc come rushing in. I push past them and hold his hand while he takes his last breath.

Chapter 14

Tatiana “Hi,” I say shyly, opening the door for Olivia Caldwell. She smiles big at me from behind her glasses. She has this ease about her that soothes me. Olivia moves to the sitting area and drops shopping bags on the couch. “All right, girlie, it’s time to have some fun!” Her excitement bubbles over, and she snorts, making me cover my mouth to hide my own laugh. “I don’t know what you like, but Jagger gave me sizes from what he’s been getting you, and I got a little variety. I can take back whatever you don’t like.” I pause, taking in the moment. For the first time in my entire life, a female bought me clothes. I have never had anything purchased for me by a woman. A lot of my stuff actually came from evicted tenants when we seized their contents after they got served or the people who moved on and just left their junk behind. I taught myself to sew by hand with a small sewing kit enough to repair the worn hand-me-downs. My life feels like I am on a crazy merry-go-round. I am spinning and spinning. Will it ever stop? When I step off and into the real world, what happens next? My father is dead. I am hiding in a hotel room, trusting that I didn’t kill the man who gave me life, based on the word of a man I barely know. Suddenly everything is blurry, and the room is spinning. I sit on the couch and drop my head to my hands. “Tatiana?” Olivia says softly. I look up at her, feeling like a child. Jagger hates my father. Would he tell me the truth about his death? I haven’t had much in life, but everything I did have up until six months ago, literally everything, was provided by him. Now he is gone, and I probably did it. “This is supposed to be fun, not sad.” She rubs her butt, and I am curious if she has an itch. “Be in the moment.” I raise an eyebrow at her in question. “I don’t know all your problems, but I do know you mean something to Jagger. For Caldwells, everything is about family.” She starts to rub her butt again, then stops herself, biting her bottom lip. “Be in the moment. Right now, let go of everything going on in your head and let’s have girl time. We don’t know each other, but I hope, by the end of the day, we do.” And that is when my day with Livi starts. She is a firecracker, full of energy. Even with her little baby bump, she doesn’t slow down. I try on so many outfits I can’t remember which bottoms go with which tops to over half of them. She giggles and snorts when we come to the final bag.

“Tatiana, I should tell you something.” “Okay,” I say cautiously. “I love panties!” she squeals, her energy infectious. The time with her has allowed me not to think of the future or the past, but to be in the moment. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re crazy?” Heat flashes in her eyes. “Hendrix does all the time.” We both laugh. Then I pause. When was the last time I laughed before Jagger? Emotions flood me. I can’t remember a single time I have laughed with my father. Livi has spent hours here, talking about the Caldwell family and her family with her mother and half-brothers as well as her father, who is recovering. She has all these people around her, and she laughs freely, yet I haven’t ever laughed with the only family I have—correction: had. It’s all gone. The time is gone. It can’t be given back. Time cannot be erased, and the past cannot be changed. My mother died protecting me. My father died at the hands of me. Standing, I rush to the bathroom, where I throw up. Livi stands in the doorway as I try to fight back the dry heaves. Then she comes over and wets a washcloth and begins soothing me by wiping my face. “Wanna talk about it?” “I killed my father. I’ve never laughed until Caldwell’s. I don’t know what family is,” I start rambling all my secrets. “I have pretended not to speak English to avoid the truth. I will probably get sent back to my country, a place I haven’t been to since I was in diapers.” “Slow down, sister.” “Sister,” I whisper. “I’ve never had one of those. I’ve never had anyone.” “Well, you have the Caldwells now. There aren’t a lot of us, but we are growing every day.” She rubs her belly for emphasis and smiles. “You aren’t alone, Tatiana. You also didn’t kill your father. I don’t know what happened, but I do know the Caldwell brothers. There’s no way Jagger would have me here”—she jabs her thumb at her chest—“if you”—she points to me—“killed anyone. Heck, there is no way he would have me over here if you even killed a bug.” I give her a half-smile. “Get cleaned up. It’s time to talk about one of my favorite things…panties!” She smiles, and I can see in her eyes she genuinely cares for me. She exits the bathroom to give me privacy. Is that how real families are? Easy acceptance? I’ve read about unconditional love, yet never thought it could be real. I don’t know what love is, but I do know that, in the last six months, Jagger Caldwell has cared more for me than anyone in my entire life. I don’t know how to describe what I feel for him. Just thinking about him has me tied in knots. I crave his time, attention, and touch. I clean up and head back out to find that Livi has spread out all sorts of panties on the bed. They are different cuts, different colors, and some even have words! She holds up a pair, and I read the letters on the backside: Be in the Moment. She tosses them to me.

“Today’s special.” She laughs, but I don’t get the joke. “I use my panties for empowerment. The sayings help me remember good things and stay motivated to move forward in the tough times.” Holding the fabric in my hand, I get it, so I smile at her. Then I go over and look at the wide array of undergarments: lace bras, silk panties, boy shorts, bikini cuts, and thongs…oh my. I feel like Victoria’s Secret may have vomited the spring catalog on my bed. I have seen the ads when I’ve been online for school. Vicki doesn’t keep much a secret. “Livi, is all of this really necessary?” “Totally! It’s not about what you wear, Tatiana. It’s how it makes you feel. The pieces closest to your naked body are your bras and panties, so they’ve gotta make you feel good from the beginning. If you have on uncomfortable”—she gasps—“or ugly panties, you won’t feel good, even in a designer dress. Confidence starts from the inside and finds its way out. What’s underneath always matters more than the exterior of anything. Panties are crucial.” “Well, okay, then.” I want to add, if you say so, but I don’t. What she says makes sense, even if it sounds crazy. I’m beginning to understand that is simply Olivia Caldwell. I have never cared about clothes before or my undergarments as long as they were clean. Really, it’s not like anyone was going to see me. After going over them, she helps me pick out my outfit for my birthday and tells me Jagger will be here to celebrate with me. Apparently someone close to him passed away, so he can’t come see me any sooner. My chest literally aches for him. I want to be there to comfort him. I want to know who he lost. I want to know everything and anything about the man who has given me so much. Olivia stays for dinner and dessert, during which she opens up and tells me about some of her own secrets. It has been nice not to spend my entire day alone. One more night, and then it’s my birthday. My birthday, on which I will finally see Jagger again. I settle into bed after soaking in a bath. The silk material of my new nightgown feels like heaven as I wiggle my toes in my slippers. I don’t have to hide them anymore, and I don’t have to sleep in them, but somehow I do at the same time. They have been my piece of Jagger with me every night for all these months. If he can’t be here, then these are the next best thing. When the champion song echoes from the nightstand, I pick up the phone and smile on seeing Champion flashing on the screen with a picture of Jagger. “Hello,” I answer. “Totty,” he greets. “How was your day?” “Interesting. I’m sorry for your loss,” I begin and Jagger stops me. “Don’t wanna talk about that tonight, little one. Did you have fun with Livi?” I want him to feel like he can talk to me. I don’t want to push and I don’t want to make him sad. For now, I will give him the distraction he seems to be seeking. “She’s crazy!” I laugh. “But in a good way,” I start to explain. “Trust me, I know. She’s the best, isn’t she?” His admiration is evident in his tone. “You’re the best, Jagger Caldwell.”

“I’m just a guy who had a momma teach him right, Totty.” “Thank you,” I whisper. “For what?” “Everything.” “Thank Momma Caldwell. I’m her legacy.” His tattoo immediately dances in my mind. “You’re something else, Jagger.” “Family is everything, Totty. It ain’t about blood. It’s about love and standing together on that.” “Livi needs panties for that.” I laugh, and he gasps. “What? I don’t know that I want to hear about my sister-in-law’s panties.” “Consent is”—I pause, my accent suddenly heavy—“fuckin’ required.” “What, little one?” “Livi gave me panties that say ‘Consent Is Fuckin’ Required.’ I think they are my new favorites.” “What do you know about consent and fucking?” “I know about good touch and bad touch. I know Livi hasn’t had it easy, and consent wasn’t always given.” “Oh, hell, you two definitely had a good day together. I don’t know about this conversation, little one.” “Well, I know that tomorrow is my birthday, and I want you to know…” I pause, not sure if I can say the words. “Consent is fucking given.”

Chapter 15

Jagger It’s a damn good thing, I think to myself as I lie back on the couch in the apartment above the gym. It’s a really damn good thing consent was fucking given because I can’t even hear her voice without nearly busting out of my jeans. Regardless, I’m not going to go balls deep, not at first, anyway. She is too damn eager, and that scares the shit out of me. Being raised like I was proved to be hell, but I had Momma, and I had my brothers. She didn’t have shit except an abusive fuck who beat on her. I need her strong—first for her and then for me. Some men need to break a woman to build them up the way they want them. I watched my old man break my mom down over and over. When she got stronger, he beat her more, trying his best to own her. I always thought that was just the way it was for some people. I also always knew it wasn’t fucking right. You hear shit at school, on TV, or read about how if you were abused, especially men, you will likely be an abuser. Even though Momma stayed—I assume out of the fear she would lose us—and many looked at her with pity, she always took pride in what she had, and what she had was us, her legacy. It was her choice to stay, and the hell she endured made us stronger. Not in the physical sense, but in knowing right from wrong and the loyalty and brotherhood the three of us always had for her and one another. That shit is unbreakable. I watched my brothers and the way they dealt with the girls they were drawn to by something stronger than a need for a fuck or the physical release of pumping come into a warm, available pussy. I never wanted that responsibility. The fear of becoming an abuser by buying into the shit those shrinks and so-called experts spewed did me in. I wasn’t like Hendrix, who could walk away for self-preservation, or Morrison, who would take blow after blow from a drunken fuck like the old man or walk away when he knew it was what was best for someone. I fought back, and when I wanted something, I fought for it too. All that changed six months ago when I saw Tatiana cowering in a corner. For six months, I had a need that superseded logic, desire, or reason. I had a need to take care of her the best way I knew how. The best I know how is to make her strong on her own. Then, and only then, will I allow myself to give in to the craving to kiss her, taste her, touch her, everywhere. I hear Kid in the kitchenette and stand up, adjusting the semi I got that’s straining my workout pants, and walk around the corner. He catches me out of the corner of his eye and grabs the bottle of pills on the counter, shoving them in the pocket of his sweats. He swallows something down and glares at me. “I don’t need a babysitter, Caldwell. You can go.” “What did you just take?”

“None of your business.” “They Shaw’s or yours?” I ask as he brushes past me, avoiding answering my question. I grab the back of his shirt, and he turns around, swinging and nearly hitting me upside the head. “You better be quicker than that, motherfucker,” I snap at him. “Don’t ever grab me from behind, Caldwell. As a matter of fact, don’t ever grab me again,” he snaps back. “How do you think he’d feel if he knew you were popping his pills?” “He’d understand I’d had enough and needed some fucking sleep.” He turns and storms to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. “Fuck this.” I look at my watch, seeing it’s eleven o’clock at night. I yell, “You have my number, man. Keep in mind, he thought a whole hell of a lot of you, so don’t disrespect him, dead or alive! We have a service to plan, so you better be ready to do that when I come back!” I grab my keys and my hoodie and head out the door, needing to blow off some steam. I open the door to the gym, throw off my shirt, and hit the elliptical. I need to get my head on straight. I need to grieve, protect, and move the fuck on. Life is sometimes a shit storm, and today is one of those days. Five miles in, I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel. I see her. — I look down at my watch. It’s five till midnight. I have flowers in my hand and a fucking Happy Birthday balloon with a little fucking pink unicorn. They seriously need a better selection at the corner store. A fucking unicorn? I should just pop the bitch, but I don’t. I resume pacing. Four minutes and twenty seconds left. When it’s finally time, I hit the door harder than I expected, three times, but shit happens. Nothing, no answer, so I grab my key card out of my pocket and swipe it. Then I open the door and immediately understand why she didn’t hear me. Rock-hard isn’t nearly a strong enough phrase to explain what it feels like to see Tatiana sitting in a tank top and slippers with her long brown hair piled in a sloppy bun on top of her head, a bag of microwave popcorn between her legs that are twisted in a pretzel, and her jaw nearly unhinged as she sits on the floor, looking up at the television. Each moan that comes from the television, each groan or sexual sound that comes from the speakers makes her cheeks flush. Hell, she even covers her mouth. I decide it is a hell of a lot safer to simply lean back and observe her as she watches Skin-AMax than to walk within arm’s reach of the girl who already gave me verbal consent to fuck her. When the man on the screen gives the girl a facial, she gasps, covers her mouth, and giggles. Fuck. It’s priceless, but it also makes me even harder if that’s possible. “Oh my God,” she says when the credits start rolling, and she stands to turn off the TV. “Wow, just—” “That good, huh?” I chuckle.

She jumps ten feet in the air, popcorn flying everywhere as she screams. “Shit, little one. I didn’t mean to—” “Have you ever seen anything like that?” she gasps, pointing to the TV. I don’t respond, only look at her. Her mouth slowly falls open. “Oh. Oh, wow.” I clear my throat before I speak. “Happy birthday, Totty.” She looks at the clock, then back at me as I walk over and hand her the white roses and the balloon. “For me?” A smile that could bring daylight to the midnight sky spreads across her face. “Of course for you.” She takes them and smells the flowers, then lays them on the table, pushes herself up on her toes, grabs my sweatshirt, and lays her soft, full lips on mine. “I would have gotten you more, but I hadn’t planned on showing up until morning,” I mumble as she rubs her lips across mine. “Good touch,” she whispers with a wink. “Yeah, that’s good touch.” “You’re good touch, Jagger Caldwell.” I pull back, and she runs her fingers over her lips. “That feels good, right?” She looks at me in confusion. “Your fingers on your lips, little one. That feels good.” As she nods and looks down at my bulging erection, her face flushes. She glances up into my eyes and then back down before she licks her lips and starts to kneel. Quickly I grab her arm. “Come up here. Eyes on me.” I lift her chin so she’s looking at me. Then I rub my thumb across her lips. “That feels good.” “I want more,” she says with no hint of shyness in her voice. It makes me chuckle, and she smiles softly. “I want you.” I am in predator mode. With one wrong move, she will get exactly what she’s asking for and then some. With one wrong move, I will never get back this moment and the ability to give her strength. I take her hand and groan. “Come with me.” She follows behind as I move to sit on the couch. She sits on my lap, and I groan again when the buck-ten she is pushes against my dick. I hoist her up, throw my leg on the couch, and drop her between my legs. My dick is still pushing against her, but not the damp fabric covering her sweet little pussy. My prey. I pull her head back against my shoulder, and she looks up at me. “I’m eighteen, Jagger.” “I know, Totty.” “I gave you consent.” “I know that too.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Unable to control myself, I lean down and kiss her hard on the mouth. I seek entrance aggressively with my tongue, and her lips fall apart, giving it to me. I taste her, tease her, suck her, and lick her. I am feeding. “Mmm,” she moans, and I growl in response. She lies back and maneuvers herself so her back is on one of my arms and she is looking up at me. “More,” she whispers in a sultry rasp. While I rub my tongue up and down hers slowly, but with more pressure, her arm crosses her body, and her hand seeks my cock. She moves her fingers lightly up and down the fabric, and I feel the knowing burn. I continue sucking her tongue as I take her hand in mine and place it on her sweet little tits. I can’t feel them since her hand is my shield and my tool to show her how to feel. I lead them in a slow circle, and she whimpers into my mouth. Then I squeeze my hand around hers, and she cries out, “Again.” I regretfully pull my mouth away and look into her glassy, lust-filled eyes. “Show me, little one. Show me what you like. Show me what you want.” When her hand moves to my dick again, I capture it and bring it to my mouth, kissing, licking, and nibbling on it. “Tell me what you are feeling.” “Heat,” she whimpers. “Where, little one?” “Everywhere,” she says, and I seize her lips again. As I kiss her, I set her hand on her tit. “Show me,” I say against her ear. “Here,” she says, looking me in the eye as she lifts her shirt. “I want you to touch them, find out what you like best, and tell me exactly what it feels like.” She hesitates. “Show me.” “I’ve never…” She bites her bottom lip. “Not in front of anyone. What if I’m doing it wrong?” “If it feels good, it’s not wrong.” I reassure her. She rubs her hand across like I did and then harder. Then she looks down at her little pebbles. It hurts, I can tell. I want to ease that. I take her hand to my mouth and lick her fingers, then set them on her tit. “Squeeze gently.” She looks confused. “Show me, Tatiana. Show me.” She squeezes her dark-red little nubs and cries out again, confusion showing on her face. “Don’t you fucking stop, little one. Show me more.” And she does. With her eyes glued to mine, she tweaks, rubs, pulls, and cries out. She lifts her fingers to my mouth, and I give her what she wants. I suck them, and then she continues. “So sexy, Tatiana. So fucking beautiful.” As she looks up and tilts her head, something flashes in her eyes, in her expression. “Little one, I have never seen a woman more beautiful.” I lean down and kiss her.

Her breath becomes shallower, and I fucking know she is on edge. She just needs a little something more. I take her hand and slowly run it down her stomach. Using my finger to lift the waistband of her panties, I then guide her hand under them, and she gasps. I move our hands up and down slowly at first, and she tenses as her eyes open wide. Then her legs start to close, and she pulls her hand away. “No,” I say in a much gentler tone than I feel. “What is—” “You’re gonna come, Tatiana. You’re gonna let the burn consume you until you fucking blow up.” “But…” She looks scared. “Would I let anything hurt you? Would I do anything that would cause you pain?” She shakes her head as I work her hand lower. “Finger inside, little one. That’s it….As deep as you can, beautiful.” Her head falls back as she moans, “Oh my God.” “That’s right,” I groan, pressing firmly on what I can only imagine is the sweetest little ball of nerves. “I’m,” she sputters, “I’m—” “Come for me, baby. Come hard. That’s good touch. So good, little one.” My voice is thick and strained with so much fucking need I half expect to come in my pants. “Oh, so good,” she cries as her body trembles in orgasm. I should make her ride it out, show her how to call the next one to the ring, but I don’t. I want to give that to her. I pull her hand up and lick her fingers, and her mouth falls open, forming an O. “Tastes good. Damn good.” Her face flushes, making me smirk. “You can’t seriously be embarrassed after that erotic-as-hell display.” “Erotic,” she says and closes her eyes as a slight smile creeps up. I wipe the sweat from her brow, then kiss her head over and over until she is on her side like a little kitten, curled up around me, falling asleep. I push her hair away from her face so I can watch her closed eyes flutter as she fights sleep. When I know she’s out, I lift her up, cradled in my arms, and walk her into the bedroom. As I lay her down, she wakes up. “Please, don’t leave. Please.” I pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the chair, then climb in bed next to her. I pat my chest. “Get over here.” She does, curling up on me again as she drifts off, her cold little feet rubbing up and down my calves. If it wasn’t so cute, I would get her some fucking socks. However, I like it. I like that she is content. Little does she know, she is the prey and I am the predator.

As hot as tonight was, that won’t be happening again. One lick of her fingers after they had been inside her was all I needed to know she is mine.

Chapter 16

Tatiana Warm. Safe. I snuggle in more deeply, and the steady thumping of his heartbeat lulls me into the place where dreams may really become reality. I am sated, satisfied, and safe in the arms of Jagger Caldwell. For the first time in my life, I believe in the future. All the worries of my past, my father, and what may happen disappear the minute he’s around. The only thing I can think about or feel is him. Is this what love is, an all-consuming need to be with someone, like a volcano ready to erupt, always feeling full? When Jagger is around, I am full of emotion, full of life, and full of possibilities. Unable to stop myself, I rub my feet up and down his muscular calves. The sensation of his hardened body against my soft skin has me heating up from the inside out. I didn’t have television with my father. When I was little and Old Lady Simmons would babysit me, I would watch stuff with her that came in on the antenna. Being here in this hotel with nothing other than time on my hands, I have seen a world of possibilities through cable television. Watching the people have sex was one thing, but Jagger being here and kissing me…That is an entirely different experience. Him guiding me and showing me how to bring myself to a high unlike anything I have ever felt before only made the experience that much better. I have touched myself, I have felt, but nothing like with him. Does he know what he does to me? When I wake, I open my eyes slowly and inhale the smell that is spice and all Jagger Caldwell. I trail my hand over the tight skin of his abdomen, enjoying each ripple of muscle under me. Biting my lip, I think about the shows I have watched, then lift the cover, peeking down to see his hard mass straining against the material of his pants. Jagger is still sleeping. Good. It’s time for me to play. Carefully I move down and open his pants before sliding my hand under his boxers to find the engorged length. Feeling brave, I move my head down and flick my tongue, licking the top of his penis. His legs shift, and I pause, holding his shaft in my hand. When he doesn’t wake, I stroke the velvety skin before swirling my tongue around the tip. Then I open wide to take him in. “What the fuck? Totty!” Jagger jolts up, flipping the cover off my head and revealing me and my playground. Immediately, I pull back and release him.

He leans back against the headboard, blowing out a frustrated breath. “What am I gonna do with you?” he asks more to himself than me. Without thinking, I mutter, “Love me like no one has before.” He bangs his head against the bed. “If only it were that easy.” Confusion fills me. Why do all this for me if he can’t love me? Why, for all these months, be concerned just to turn me away? Why give me the best release ever last night and not allow me to return the favor today? “I’m eighteen, Jagger,” I whisper. I don’t know why my age matters. I have kept my father’s home clean for my entire life. I cook, I am smart, and I feel like I am thirty-five, not eighteen. I know I haven’t had much life experience, but what I have experienced is real-world hell. Still, I endured and overcame. I am not some little girl.” “Little one—” he says, and I snap. “I am not little! I am a grown woman with a period. I am a legal adult here in this country. According to the law, I can have a job and live in my own house. I can even vote. I may not be able to drink alcohol here, but in Russia, I can! Do not call me little!” My voice pitches higher than I want, but I am tired of him thinking I am not grown. I have survived hell, and I have no idea what the future holds, but I won’t let my age keep me from having good in my world that has been full of bad. I want to scream that at him, but something stops me. I look into his eyes to see his confliction is real. “Totty,” he says calmly to my crazy outburst. “I know exactly how old you are. I know how strong you are. You’re so damn tiny.” The rejection stings. I climb out of the bed and shuffling around, I then slide on pants. I know he doesn’t think I’m too young, but it’s about my size. Something I’m not comfortable with. The denim against my thin panties feels new to me after my explosion last night. The rub feels nice. Ugh, why did he have to show me something else so great, only to take it away? I hear him move from the bed, but I refuse to look at him. My breasts are small, so I tug on a shirt over my tank, skipping a bra. I need to be covered so I don’t feel so…so…so exposed. Two arms circle me from behind, and the tattooed word Legacy gets my attention. His breath comes down hot on my neck as he says, “I’m trying to do right by you, Tatiana. For once in my life, I’m trying to get it right.” Then he whispers, “Let me get it right, please.” I sigh, not knowing what to say. “Lil—” He stops himself. “Totty, we both have been through a lot, especially in the last week. We have to go down and talk to Johnny and the boys in blue about your father. Now that you’re legal, social services can’t step in. You need to think about services for your father. Bastard or not, things have to be handled. And I have to set up some stuff for the man who was more of a father to me than mine ever could have thought to be. I don’t want to add anything more to either of us.” I nod my head, trying to be understanding. “I’m not going anywhere, Tatiana. You have my word. Nothing is more solid to a Caldwell than his word. No matter what the future holds, I’m here for you for anything.” He kisses the top of my head and simply holds me with his chin resting on my head.

Wrapped in his arms, secure in his embrace, the safety that is all Caldwell engulfs me. He’s right. No matter what the future holds, he will be there for me. I know that. Now it is time to face the past. — The police station is just that, a station. Entering the building, there are no feelings of comfort. No, it is all business. There is a harshness to the atmosphere that I felt the night I had to come down with my father to press charges on Jagger. Fear grips me. Father said they would send me away if I talked. I tug on Jagger’s hand, stopping him. He turns and meets my eyes. “Totty, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” he states, reading my fears. We are so connected, yet still have so much to learn about one another. I nod my head and allow him to guide me through the place until we stand in front of someone Jagger clearly knows. “How did I know you would be the one to bring her in?” he asks Jagger smugly. “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, you should be ashamed of yourself that a punk like me can do your job better than you can.” “Don’t be a prick, Jagger. Tread lightly.” He extends a hand in greeting toward me. “Miss Rand, I’m Johnny Adkins. Have a seat.” He gestures to the chairs in front of his desk. “I’m going to need to verify some information from you, and then we will head to a room where I need to ask you a few questions.” After confirming my identity so he can close the missing person’s case, he leads me to a small room with a table, two chairs, and no mirror, but a camera sits in the top corner. I take a seat and notice belatedly that Johnny has stopped Jagger in the hall. “Can’t have you in here, Caldwell.” “Why the hell not, Johnny Law?” “Law, that’s your answer.” Without giving Jagger a chance to reply, he turns into the room and shuts the door behind him. The lock clicks in place automatically, and I feel my body heat up in anxiety as he places a file on the small table and takes the seat beside me. “Tatiana, I am not the enemy here.” I wring my hands together, then stop myself, thinking this may make me look guilty. “I don’t understand,” I say honestly, not knowing what he thinks might or might not have happened. “Let’s start with where you have been.” “With a friend.” He raises an eyebrow. “Jagger Caldwell?” “No,” I answer. Technically, I was with Cobra when my father was looking for me. “No?” He smirks, and I realize I need to elaborate a little. It’s obvious we were together. “Not the entire time. I left my father’s home and stayed with a friend. Then I went to a hotel.”

“Okay. Then describe your father the last time you saw him.” “He was sleeping.” I decide short and simple is the best course of action. I won’t say he passed out in the hallway, and I stepped over his unconscious body as I made my escape. “Your father is dead, Miss Rand,” he states, studying me. “I have been informed.” Tears fill my eyes as the fear grips me. Will he send me away? “Do you know how your father died?” “No, sir,” I state firmly because I don’t. “The last time you saw him, he was sleeping?” “Yes, in our home.” His eyes flash quickly before hiding his intrigue. “Your father was found at the bottom of the stairs of your apartment building, Miss Rand.” I gasp and cover my mouth. Jagger was right. I didn’t do it. Relief fills me. “My father, he…um…liked to drink.” He points to the yellowing bruises healing on my face and arms. “He liked to do other things too, didn’t he, Tatiana?” “He liked to drink, Mr. Adkins.” “What made him wake up and leave your apartment?” “I don’t know. Once he passed out, I packed a bag and left.” “Someone had to get his attention. Someone hit him in the back of the head. Blunt force trauma. Then he took the tumble down the stairs.” My eyes grow huge. “Who would want to hit your father in the back of the head? Maybe someone who sees the marks on you and knows what you went through?” I shake my head. He opens a file and shows me a report. “The Caldwell brothers lived a life similar to yours. Only they weren’t alone. Your boyfriend can’t be a vigilante. We have laws in this country for a reason.” “Jagger Caldwell is not my boyfriend. He’s a good man.” “I don’t doubt you would think that, but he has a reputation for violence and a rap sheet to back it up.” The date and time on the report in front of me keeps my attention. This was the night I was with Jagger at the fight. We got in the car with Shaw and Kid, and later we switched to Jagger’s car and had the night alone. He was with me. I was with him, so Jagger didn’t have anything to do with my father’s death. Why doesn’t Johnny see this? “Mr. Adkins, why are you so sure Jagger had something to do with this?” “I’m just doing my job, Miss Rand. I’m seeking justice for those who can’t do it for themselves.” His statement makes a rage build inside me that I have never felt before. I raise my eyebrows at him. “I was with Jagger Caldwell that night.” I am not sure the fights are exactly legal, so I watch my words carefully. “He picked me up and took me to the

hotel, where the cameras will show him checking in.” “Lying to an officer is a criminal offense.” I pull out the phone Jagger gave me. “Here, look at the messages. I texted him and he received it, sitting next to me. Pull those reports.” He shakes his head at me, and I see red. “You talk about criminal offense, but I’ll talk about personal offense. Mr. Adkins, do you know what I find offensive?” “I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” he replies snidely. “I find it offensive that you, an officer of the law, sworn to protect and serve, can’t see past your own issues to the matter at hand. You say you’re just doing your job. You’re seeking justice for those who can’t do it for themselves. Your words, am I correct?” “Yes.” He nods. “Well, where were you when I needed justice? Where were you to seek justice for me when I couldn’t? You saw the marks, yet you set me up to have to speak for myself. Well, my father sure can’t speak now, but you are pushing this, and yet when I couldn’t speak, you did nothing!” Tears fall down my face. So many times, I wished someone, anyone would just speak for me, but no one came to the rescue until Jagger Caldwell. Now, because of my father, this man in front of me is out to pin Jagger down for something I know in my heart of hearts he didn’t do. I sniffle and dry my tears. “A drunk fell down the stairs, Mr. Adkins. What more do you need than that?” “Miss Rand—” “No, Mr. Adkins, you stand behind your laws, but where is your heart? I have lived in hell at the hands of that man.” I point to the picture of my father on the file. “I have no mother. I have no one who has ever cared until Jagger Caldwell. And I’m telling you right now he didn’t do it. Frankly, I don’t care who did it beyond wanting to send them a thank-you for saving me. I ran away because I knew the next time he hit me would be the time I couldn’t take it, and he would kill me. Slowly, slam after slam, I have been dying inside. Next time, I would have given up. Next time, it would have been me in the file, not him. If you stand for justice, well, let there be justice in my chance at life for the first time ever.” Jagger bangs almost viciously on the door, and Johnny moves to open it. I turn my back, not wanting him to see me such a mess. I want to have life. I want to live. I want to be free from the past and its hold on me.

Chapter 17

Jagger “You listen here, Law,” I sneer as I push past him. “You okay, Totty?” I ask, knowing she’s not. She dives into my arms, crying, and I keep her pulled securely to me. “You know damn well she and I had nothing to do with this, and you have no fucking warrant, so is this fucking necessary? Do you get off on victimizing the victim of that monster?” I practically scream. Her body trembles against mine, and I hold her more tightly. “You are walking a fine line, Caldwell,” he snaps. “I am investigating a murder here. Blunt force trauma to the back of his head caused the fall that broke his neck and killed him.” She covers her ears with her hands, not wanting to hear it. “And she didn’t do shit! You know it”—I point to him, wanting to do more than point—“and I know it. She’s standing here—came here willingly—and you just keep driving the bullshit—” “You could be arrested—” I shake my head. “For what? Come on, little one.” I start walking toward the door, still holding her tightly. “Aiding and abetting,” he says in a low tone. “I know you had her.” “Cut the fucking scare tactics, Law Man. There would have to be a crime.” “She was seventeen,” he hisses. “I can assure you, she turned eighteen at midnight, and not a damn thing happened between her and me.” “He won’t even touch me,” she says, the sadness in her eyes nearly crushing me. “Totty, it’s not like that. We’ve gotta get you strong, get you standing on your own two feet.” “But—” I shake my head, stopping her. It’s none of Johnny’s damn business. I look at him. “Anything else?” “Do you know anyone who would want your father dead?” he asks her. She shrugs. “Honestly, no. I never left the apartment building with him except for when he made me come here and press charges, and I only left twice without him.” He nods, seeming to accept her answer. “Don’t go too far.” “She’ll be with me.”

“I’m sure she will. I hope to hell you’re serious about helping her get strong on her own.” “Serious as fucking cancer,” I say as I walk out, holding her hand. I glance over at her often, still holding fucking hands, and it isn’t long before she looks to be less shaken up. “You all right?” I ask, hoping her response is yes. She nods. “As long as you’re here.” “I’m not going anywhere, Totty.” I open the car door and she slides in. Then I walk around and climb in the other side. My phone chimes, and I see it’s from Law Man. “Rand is being cremated. No service.” I read his message aloud. I look over. “You wanna see him first?” She shakes her head. I start up the car, and she places her hand on my thigh, leans back, and closes her eyes. One tear escapes, and I forget all about how fucked up it is that she feels like she can touch me whenever she wants. Don’t get me wrong, I like it—I like it a lot—but what if she thinks this kind of good touch is all right with anyone? I feel my blood boil. Jealousy? Fuck, I’m screwed. “Totty,” I finally calm down enough to broach the subject. “Did you touch Cobra like this?” “No.” She gasps and pulls her hand away. It immediately lands over her chest while she looks away from me and out the window. It pisses me off. I quickly pull over, and she looks at me like she’s afraid. That pisses me off too, so I hop out and pace. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I need to run, to hit something, to break shit. I hear a door slam and look over to see she’s out of the car, heading in the other direction fast. I run to catch up to her. Tears are flowing, and she looks as angry as I feel when I stand in front of her, blocking her. When she looks up at me with anger, confusion, and fear, I feel the weight of it on me. “Where you going?” “Home.” “Why would you wanna do that?” I ask, shaking my head. “Where else should I go, Jagger?” She doesn’t wait for my reply, only keeps going. “You clearly don’t want me the way I want you.” “I want you.” My voice drips with need. I can’t help it. “But I don’t want you thinking you owe me shit, Totty. I want you to be free.” I reach out and run my thumb over the scar on the side of her face, and she pushes her face against it. “I want you so fucking bad. Can’t you see that? I’m trying to do the right fucking thing here. I want you to experience the good in the world. I don’t wanna hold you back.” “Don’t you see? You are everything good in this bad, bad world of mine. Hold me back, hold

me any way you want to, but please, I beg you, just hold me and don’t let go.” No restraint. No willpower. Not twenty men could keep me back right now if they tried. I wrap my arms around her and hold her so fucking tightly I’m sure her ancestors can feel it. “Please,” she cries against my shoulder. “Please tell me that it’s not because of the way I look, the scars, the—” “Did you not fucking hear me last night, Tatiana? You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” “I thought that was why.” She cries harder, and I feel drops hitting my face. I look up to see the rain falling. “I thought you didn’t think—” “Damn it.” I pick her up and carry her into the alley as the rain starts pouring down. “I want you. I want you now. Don’t tell me no.” She leans back and looks up at me. “This isn’t the fucking way you and I should be, but fuck if I can hold back anymore.” “I don’t want you to hold back. I want you and I want your touch, good touch.” I push her back against the brick wall and pull her long black cotton skirt up. Then I shove her underwear to the side, grab a condom out of my pocket, and tear the wrapper open with my teeth before sliding it down my rock-hard cock. “Is this what you want?” “This is what I wanted the first time I came to you,” she cries. “I didn’t understand it that night, but after last night I know I need you this way. I need you so bad.” “This isn’t gonna take long, and from what I understand, it’s gonna hurt, little one.” I pull her leg up and rest it on my hip before pushing my knees between her legs and lifting her. I rub my cock against her slick, hot pussy and groan. “I promise I’ll more than make up for it later, but right now, nothing can stop me. This is what you want. This is what we need.” I push into her, my eyes locked on hers. When her eyes open wide, I still, and she moans, a sound that’s sweeter than any fucking bell I have ever heard ring in a fight. Then she wraps her arms around my neck, and I pull her other leg up, pushing in farther as I do. Her nails sink into my back, and her breath hitches. “More,” she purrs. I push in farther, and she digs harder into my back and tenses up. “Relax,” I say as I sway my hips, trying to loosen her tight little pussy up. “More,” she cries, and I can’t hold back. I drive in fully as she cries out, “More,” again. “Couldn’t stop me if you tried,” I grunt as I ease out and back in slowly at first. “It hurt?” “Yes, give me more,” she moans. “Harder.” “Fuck!” I roar as I pump in and out faster and harder. Her head falls back as she cries out my name. While I lick the exposed flesh of her neck, then suck hard, I grip her ankles behind my back with one hand and push her shirt up with the other, squeezing her perfect little tit. Her hips begin meeting mine, and she looks up at me, her eyes full of heat. “More.”

I can’t hold back. I fuck her hard, licking and sucking on her neck and squeezing her tit, rolling her tight little nipple between my fingers. She meets me thrust for thrust, her eyes closed, head back, crying out my name. Her pussy tightens around me, and she sinks her nails into my back again. “Oh God…Oh, Jagger, oh.” “Come, little one. Come all over my cock. Don’t ask me to stop fucking you,” I grunt. “Don’t you ever stop asking me to fuck you!” “Never.” She pants as her body tremors through her release. Her head falls to my shoulder, and she holds on more firmly. I can’t stop. I am out of control, a man possessed. Her teeth scrape up my chin until her lips find mine. “I love you.” Immediately I come. When I am empty, spent, fully drained, I hold her tightly and whisper, hoping she doesn’t hear me, yet to weak not to say it, “Don’t stop doing that, either.” — I am holding her hand when I pull over in front of the gym. “Quick stop. I need to check on the place.” I jump out and run around to open the door for her. She gets out, and I can’t help smiling. She smiles back. “This is where you train?” “And where you will.” “Oh, I don’t know about that.” “I do. You’ll learn some moves.” She looks at me curiously. “You want me to fight?” “No.” I shake my head and smirk. “I want you to learn how to fight back. Self-defense. Not today, but soon.” I lean in and give her a quick kiss. “Let’s go.” When we walk in, Kid is standing by the office with a man in a suit, and I tighten my grip on her hand. “Jagger.” Kid waves me over. “This is Shaw’s attorney.” “Bill Boles.” He sticks out his hand, and I shake it. “You got a minute?” I nod. He looks at Tatiana. “You got a problem with my girl?” He holds both his hands in the air. “Nope. No, sir. As long as you’re comfortable with her seeing the will, I have no problem.” “Good.” I nod to the office door. “Let’s talk.” He sits in the last chair available in the small office—Shaw’s. I don’t feel right about sitting there, and obviously neither does Kid. “I’ll read. You stop me if there are any questions.” He begins reading, and I interrupt.

“How about you tell us what he wants, and then we can look over it?” “That’s a little unconventional, but if you insist.” He nods to both of us. “We insist.” Kid nods back. “In a nutshell, he is leaving you two the gym. Kid has a record, so given his past, it shouldn’t be in his name. He says your word is good, Mr. Cald—” “Jagger,” I correct him. He nods. “He wants you two to make something good out of it. He also has a five-hundredthousand-dollar life insurance policy. Four hundred thousand goes to his deceased wife’s church and a hundred thousand to you both, but it isn’t…in his words, ‘a GD handout.’ It’s to give the place a facelift. He wants you to promise that you will do something better with it and your lives.” He sets the folder on Shaw’s desk. “The check should be here in about six weeks. The deed to this building and the one next to it that he used as a residence is in here already. You sign it, Jagger, and I will file it. The deed will take about thirty days to process. My suggestion is to open an account when the check comes in using a business name. Any questions?” Stunned, Kid and I both shake our heads. He looks at Tatiana as if he’s trying to figure something out. “Do you have a problem with Tatiana?” “Rand?” he asks, looking in his black leather briefcase. “Yeah.” I stand up, putting myself between them. Bill holds his hand up. “Mr. Caldwell, I met with Mr. Rand three years back. Miss Rand, I am sorry for your loss.” I look beside me as she peeks around. “Thank you.” “After we get all the police reports back, I will want to meet with you again.” “Concerning?” I ask. “The building, for one. It is Miss Rand’s now. And I believe”—he looks through his briefcase again and pulls out some paperwork—“he is to be cremated and his ashes poured in the river. There is a tenant…” He shuffles through more papers. “I can’t seem to find what I’m looking for, but she knows the whereabouts of his safes. He didn’t believe in banks, so whatever he has goes to his next of kin, and that is you.” I look to see her reaction, but her expression is blank. When I take her hand and give it a squeeze, she looks at the floor, yet squeezes mine back. “Mr. Caldwell, if you could just sign.” He pushes the folder forward. “Then I will be on my way.” I bring her hand up and kiss it. “I gotta let go for a minute. You good?” She nods, releasing my hand. While I’m signing, she disappears out into the gym. When we leave Shaw’s—mine and Kid’s—office I see her kick one of the heavy bags. Then she looks around and doesn’t see us, so she does it again before she taps the bag. I put my hand out, stopping Kid’s progression into the gym. “Just stay here a minute.” I want her to have this moment for herself. Find her fight within.

“The fucking hands-on shit needs to stop, Caldwell,” he growls. “You don’t do that shit to a man who spent the last seven fucking years locked up.” “I’ll try to remember that.” “You better.” I don’t respond. We both stand there, watching her play with the bag until the bell on the door catches her ears. She waves goodbye to Mr. Boles and then looks around, still not seeing us. She kicks at the bag a few times, then punches it twice. “You gonna let her keep doing that? She might hurt herself.” “She’s got a lot to work out,” I say, watching her. I glance over at him. “So do you.” “I needed to sleep,” he hisses. “You need to figure out a different way to do it. You’ll piss hot when you see your parole officer, and then you’ll be back to needing to jump when someone’s behind your ass.” I walk away. “And some fucking soap on a rope.” I walk quietly over near her and start working one of the other bags: left, right, dead-on, and kick. I do it over and over, observing her watch me out of the corner of her eye, then mimicking my moves. I try to take it easy, but she seems to get bored. Harder, her demand echoes in my memory.

Chapter 18

Tatiana I can’t hit it hard enough. I can’t find a pain deep enough to pull out of the muck in my mind. First, someone killed my father. The cop thinks Jagger or I had something to do with it. On the other hand, he seems to understand we are innocent. Sure, I did give him the pills that put him to sleep, but that isn’t what he died from. The report said… My father is dead. He won’t be able to hit me again. He won’t be able to take out his life’s frustrations on me. I can breathe. For the first time in my life, I can breathe. So why does it feel like I am still suffocating? Why do I feel like the weight of the world is on my frail shoulders? Mr. Adkins, the police officer, knows Jagger, but for whatever reason, he wants to push him and this situation with me. I know it’s his job, but wasn’t it also his job to look out for me when my father was alive? I don’t understand it. Then again, there isn’t much I do understand about Jagger. I punch hard into the bag. Kicking, I try to make the bag move. It doesn’t. I want to scream, but not in pain. I want to cry out for everything I never had. I want to cry out for everything I dream of one day having. I want to cry out for everything that is completely uncertain in my life right now. Peeking to my left, I watch him move out of the corner of my eye, my second issue running through my mind—Jagger Caldwell. I am in over my head. Every touch is electric and makes me crave more. My body goes into overdrive and my mind shuts down whenever he is around. Good touch. Oh my…good touch, the rain, the passion, the intensity—I couldn’t get enough. Thinking about it, my girlie parts come to life, deliciously sore. What does Jagger think of me? I went wild against a building in the rain with him. Is that normal? It can’t be normal. It hurt, but not like I thought it would. Then, the more he moved in and out of me, the more the fire built inside. Every stroke had my nerve endings tightening. Feeling him inside of me, really inside of me, connected to me…Just thinking about it makes me want more. If it wasn’t for the blood, he probably wouldn’t have believed I was a virgin. He does that to me, though. Does he see it? Does he realize it’s just him for me? He makes me wild with need, want, and only he can satisfy me. It’s more than good touch. It’s this connection. Am I crazy? Am I some lovesick fool?

Jagger Caldwell feels like everything right in all the wrongs. He feels like the only good to keep me afloat in all of the bad. Jab. Jab. Kick. I try releasing everything into the apparatus in front of me. Still, it doesn’t move. As I look at the black weight bag in front of me and start laughing, Jagger stops hitting the one beside me and looks at me. “It weighs more than I do, doesn’t it?” “The heavy bag?” He points to the bag I have been hitting. I nod. “Yeah, Totty, it does.” He smiles, causing heat to flood through me. I laugh more as I stand with my hands on my hips, looking at the unwavering obstacle in front of me. It stays still, and I move to it to rebound off time and time again. Every punch, kick, and hit I land merely bounces off. That’s how my life has been. I get knocked down, get back up, and get knocked down again. The biggest muck filling my mind is, What do I do now? Jagger’s rough fingers cup my chin and pull my gaze back to him. “You’re not alone, Totty.” I swallow the lump in my throat. His touch has me licking my lips and feeling like a dehydrated survivor in the desert, wanting a simple drop of water. Only I want a simple touch of Jagger Caldwell. “What do I do next?” I ask, my voice cracking on each word. “Whatever the hell you want,” he answers. He rubs his thumb over my jaw before moving his hand to my waist. Then he pulls me to him and holds me close, and I inhale his scent and allow his strength to wash through me. Everything feels right with him. — The apartment is quiet when we arrive. After Jagger unlocks the door from behind me, it swings open, and I merely stand in the entryway. Nothing is out of place. Everything is exactly how it was when I left. Did he even live here while I was away? Mentally, I try to calculate how long I was gone before he was killed. Only two days, so I guess in his worry for me, he didn’t have much time to make a mess. Honestly, I thought it would be ransacked. I imagined I would find pillows tossed, tables turned over. Did he only take his rage out on me? As memories flood me, I reach up and touch the scar on my cheek, and the pain seems to slice through me even though it has long since healed. A hand on my lower back makes me jump. “You’re safe,” Jagger whispers in my ear, guiding me inside enough for him to shut the door. I walk into the small kitchen and drag my finger along the countertop. The cold laminate does nothing to soothe my heart. I look to the stove and fridge, thinking of the many times I messed up and paid for it at his hands. How can I move past the memories? “You don’t have to stay here,” Jagger says, as if it solves all my problems.

I guess I should share with him my biggest problem, the thing that is sitting in the back of my mind, waiting for someone to figure it out. “Jagger, I may not be able to stay here.” He raises an eyebrow in question. “I don’t know if I’m actually allowed to be in your country.” “Why the fuck not?” “My father brought us here when I was a baby. He doesn’t believe in banks. He only paid taxes so the government wouldn’t show up and investigate. He always told me if I asked for help, they would send me back to Russia. Mr. Adkins, he can send me away.” Tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I will face this however I have to. “Did Johnny fuckin’ say that?” “No. He didn’t mention my citizenship at all. I just know what I have been told my entire life.” “Well, your old man wasn’t the most upstanding of people, so maybe he was holding that over your head and it’s not an issue. Until someone comes knocking, try not to worry about it.” “I can’t get sent back there,” I whisper, letting the fear win. “I’m not going to let that happen, little one.” I wish I could be so sure. I wish I could feel like everything is going to be okay. I can’t, though. This is just another way my father still has a hold on me. Moving through the space, I wonder to myself what a real home would feel like. I used to dream of having one of the empty apartments to myself. I could wear my slippers and I could display my treasures. More than anything, I could breathe. I wouldn’t be counting the day away, wondering what the evening would bring when he arrived home. I wouldn’t have to worry about him coming and going and getting everything just right. As I think of the future, I wonder what it would really feel like to be excited in anticipation for someone’s return home. How would I feel to enjoy the company of another person each evening rather than feel the dread of what was certain to come? Jagger’s phone starts ringing. While he answers, I go to my father’s room, where his bed is a complete mess and his clothes are everywhere. Absently, I start picking them up and making the bed. Then I gather everything I can into a basket and start to head to the door. Jagger stops me. “Where are you going?” “To the first floor to do laundry.” He looks into the basket. “Totty, are those his clothes?” I nod. “He’s not coming back.” I drop the basket and sob, and Jagger wraps his arms around me. “Shhh,” he whispers, stroking my hair. I know he’s not coming back. Old habits die hard, though. Will I ever be normal? I shouldn’t feel sad. I should be filled with happiness that I don’t have to be at his beck and call.

I am free. I am free to be me. Only I don’t know how to be me without being the person he wanted me to be. Clothes washed, house clean, food prepared, and good grades—that was my life. Now what? “It’s okay to be lost, little one.” Once again, Jagger Caldwell soothes my problems away, and I hold him a little more securely. Could I find a way to hold on to him, hold on to this for the rest of my life? “Together, Totty. Together, we will pick up the pieces. I lost my momma. My brothers and I have fought hard to pick up the pieces. We did it along with helping Livi, Hailey, and Marisa. I’m here, Totty. We all are. We’ll help you pick up the pieces, too.” I squeeze him. “Good touch, Jagger Caldwell.” He groans, kissing the top of my head. “Everything good,” I whisper into his chest. “You are everything good.”

Chapter 19

Jagger I hold her, allowing her words to settle in. “I haven’t always been a good man,” I finally say. She sighs and looks up at me. “The fights?” I nod. “The women?” she whispers, tensing in my arms. “None like you, little one, not one whose blood I can claim.” She looks up at me. “Virgin. Never had one before,” I admit. “Is it…different?” she whispers. I push her hair away from her eyes. “You are different.” “Will you want to touch me like that again?” A smile creeps up on my face, and I let out a long, slow breath. “Probably more than you’re going to want.” “Probably not.” Her eyes smile. “Good.” “Good touch.” Her smile hits her lips now. “Really good touch,” I growl, then bend to kiss her, but someone knocks on the door to her shitty little apartment. She pulls back and takes a step toward the door. “No.” I move in front of her. “Someone murdered your old man,” I answer due to the confused look she gives me. “We know it’s not us, so that person is out there, and until they find out who the hell it was, you and I are gonna be stuck like glue.” I walk to the door and open it slowly, keeping one foot behind it so I can stop it from fully opening if whoever is at the door tries something. Then I see Old Lady Simmons and relax. “Tatiana?” I nod. “Come in.” I open the door and let the old woman who gave Totty the baked goods in. “I am so sorry about your father.” She hugs a confused-looking Tatiana. “Thank you.” She steps back. “I’m so sorry I didn’t put an end to him myself.” She starts crying. This time Tatiana hugs her, and it’s an awkward hug that pisses me off. How does someone go a lifetime without affection? Without…good touch?

“I should have, but I was frightened he would turn me in.” “For what?” Tatiana asks. “He threatened to tell the authorities I didn’t have papers, that I was an illegal immigrant. My children, although grown, need me here. I don’t want to go back. I will live with my shame for the rest of my—” “No, Marisol, no. No shame. You showed me kindness.” “Not enough.” “More than I knew before then.” “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” “I beg you to take it.” The old woman hugs her again. “In your father’s room, under the bed, a floorboard is not nailed down. There is a safe. He said it was to go to you. I was to make sure you knew this. I didn’t tell the authorities. He told me not to.” Tatiana looks up at me, afraid. “He can’t do a damn thing to you, Totty. You get that?” “I don’t want to go in there alone.” “You want me to—” “Yes,” she says, taking my hand. When we are standing at the bed, her hold on my hand becomes a death grip. “Little one, I can’t move the bed if you don’t let go.” I stroke her knuckles with my thumb, and she sighs, then lets go. I move the bed and immediately see the loose plank of wood. I grab my pocketknife out of my pants, push the blade between the planks, and lift it up. I see the safe and lift it out. It is about the length and width of a piece of paper and about seven inches deep. Old Lady Simmons hands Totty a key. “I’ll leave you two alone.” When Old Lady Simmons leaves, I sit on the floor and pat the spot between my legs, and Tatiana sits and pushes herself back against me. Her hand trembles slightly as she reaches back to hand me the key. I don’t take it. Instead I hold her hand. “You can do this.” “I’m afraid of what I’ll find,” she whispers. “Little one, I’m here, but there is nothing, not one thing, you need to be afraid of even if I wasn’t. Your old man is dead. He’s never gonna touch you again.” I place a kiss on her head and push the heavy box in front of her. “I’m not going anywhere.” “With me,” she says, linking her pinky around my thumb as she pushes the key in, turns the lock, and then slowly, as if something may jump out at her, opens the box. Inside is a ton of cash. Bundles of hundred-dollar bills wrapped with bank slips that say ten thousand dollars. “Holy shit, Totty!” I gasp as she pulls them out, one after another. “It’s a lot,” she says quietly. I have already counted up to thirty-four, and they are still coming. In the end, there are fifty-seven. More than half a million dollars if the shit is real.

“That’s an understatement.” I sigh. “Someone was looking down on you.” “What would I even do with all this?” She looks back at me, confused. “You could buy a car. Hell, you could buy twenty and a house and—” “I don’t know how to drive,” she says, scowling. “Oh, babe, I’m gonna teach you how to do every fucking thing that bastard didn’t that will make you strong and free. Hell, I’d teach you to fly if I could.” She sits back against me, looking at all the cash. Then one hand reaches up and grabs the back of my neck. “Good touch.” “If you need me, I’m here.” I kiss her softly. She pulls me down and kisses me harder. When she pulls back, she closes her eyes. “This is mine, and this place is mine. I don’t deserve—” “You deserve even more.” I rub her arms up and down, trying not to squeeze too hard. “I never asked for this.” “The fucker owes you,” I remind her. She nods, sitting forward to reach in the box. She pulls out a bundle of papers. “Jackpot, Tatiana,” I say when I see her US citizenship paperwork. “Nothing to worry about. You’re legal. Shouldn’t have doubted it to begin with. Johnny already knew that, or we wouldn’t be sitting here now.” She nods again, looking at the next sheet—her birth certificate. Her finger caresses the spot that says her mother’s name. I can’t read it, don’t need to. She is relaxing again. That’s all I need. After that are pictures of a woman with a baby. I know immediately it is her and her mother. Tatiana looks just like her. A sob escapes as she quickly goes through them, one after another. Once she is done, she trembles, holding them close to her as her sobs become cries. I pull her to me and try to hold her together, and her emotions seep into my soul. I feel them deeply, and tears fill my own eyes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I hold them back as I tighten my grip. We sit like that for only a moment before I see the door open, and Old Lady Simmons peeks in. She is crying too. “What can I do?” she asks. “She’ll be okay. Just needs to let it out.” Tatiana sobs, and I turn her tiny little body to me, holding her as I stroke her hair. The door closes, Old Lady Simmons leaving us alone again. Her tears finally stop falling, but her body still shakes. “Tell me what I can do for you.” “Get me out of here,” she pleads quietly. “No problem.” I stand with her in my arms and sit her down on the bed. “You have a bag?” “Yes.” “We’ve gotta do something with this cash till we can get you a bank account.”

She nods. “I’ll be back.” She walks out the door, and I put the plank back, covering his fucking hiding spot, the place where he hid things from her that would have made her life easier, better. I start to shove the old wrought iron bed back to where it was, yet find another plank seems to be loose. I move the bed back, grab my knife off the floor where I left it, and pop it up. Inside is an old shoebox. I grab it as Tatiana walks in with the bag. “There’s more?” she asks nervously. “Yeah,” I say, taking the bag and handing her the box. “I don’t know if I can handle more.” “Then we put it away and wait till later. No one says you have to do it all at once.” I don’t think I could handle more right now, either. I take the box and shove it deep inside the duffel bag she handed me. Then I toss in the half a million in cash. Fuck me running. She is gonna have everything she ever dreamed of. I hope to hell it’s still gonna include me, but if not, for her, I would walk. However, I would sure as hell hide in the background, making sure this little one, who can bring a champ to the verge of tears, was always protected. When everything is shoved in the bag, I sling it over my shoulder and take her hand. “Where are we going?” “Home,” I answer as I lead her out. When we get to the bottom of the stairs, she looks around. I know she is thinking of her old man lying there, dead. She looks up. “I hope it wasn’t too painful.” I want to tell her I hope it fucking was an eternal pain. I hope the fucker who bruised and scarred my beautiful little one is in hell after falling down an eternity of stairs with brains and blood spilling from the strike he took to the back of his head by someone I hope I get the chance to shake hands with someday. We are heading out when she sees Old Lady Simmons coming out of her apartment. Tatiana jerks my hand and then lets it go. “Are you okay?” she asks Tatiana. She looks up at me. “I will be. Right, Jagger?” “Yeah. Yeah, I will make sure of it.” “What can I do to help?” Old Lady Simmons asks. She reaches in her apron and pulls out a piece of paper. “My number. I just got a cellular phone. Call me with anything.” Tatiana turns and opens the bag hanging off my side. She takes out a bundle of cash. “Can you throw everything he owns away? I don’t want to come back here and see any of it.” “Of course. I can donate it to the church to—” “Whatever you do is fine. I just want it all gone.” She hands her the money. “Can you watch over the place until I am strong enough to return?” Old Lady Simmons looks down. “I couldn’t—” “I won’t have it any other way.”

Simmons looks up at me. “Tell her this is too much.” “It’s hers. She can do whatever she wants with it.” “I want you to have it.” Tatiana closes her hand around the old lady’s. “Please. I don’t want to come back until he wants me to.” I huff. “How does never sound?” The look of need on her face when she turns back to me is overwhelming. It also makes me start to get hard. Not fucking good. Not here. “It sounds like heaven.” After leaving the apartment building, I hold her hand as I drive slowly. We will be staying at Shaw’s place. Kid has already staked his claim on the apartment above the gym, saying he doesn’t want a house to take care of. I could take her to Hendrix’s place, but that isn’t gonna work with what I have in mind. I have some serious making up to do for the way I took her this morning. I run my fingers through my hair, steering with my knee. It isn’t long before I pull in between the gym and the brick house Shaw and his wife lived in. “Are we going to the gym?” “Nah, the house right here.” I point left. “Is this where you live?” she asks, sitting forward. “I guess now I do.” “It’s not far from my…um…my—” “You really wanna live there, Totty?” I ask, throwing the car in park. She shakes her head. “Where do you want to live? You have all that cash and can have anything you want, so where do you want to live?” I take the key out, then look over at her. When she lets go of my hand, gets out, and walks toward the house, I grab the duffel bag and get out. “Totty?” “Here.” She points at the house, and my heart warms, but I don’t want her settling. She looks at me and shrugs. “I want to live here.” I don’t say anything, because I can’t say shit right now. My head is spinning. I’m feeling things I never have and never wanted to. Hell, shit I have avoided. I don’t want to turn it off like I did with Cobra’s old lady. I fell fucking hard back then too. I did bounce back, but with Tatiana…There is no fucking way I would bounce back. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought you wanted—” I take three steps and swoop her up, and she gasps, then laughs. I punch the door code, reminding myself to change the thing, open the door, and then kick it shut behind me. “I want it, Totty. I want it really badly. Too badly. So b—” “Never bad, Jagger, not with us. Not with you and me.” “Good touch,” we say at the same time. Then I can’t keep my lips off her. When we finally break away, her eyes are glued to mine as she smiles.

“You look so beautiful when you smile. So beautiful all the damn time.” “I have no idea what I did to deserve a man like you, but I swear—” “Little one, you deserve so much more than me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t use every trick in the book to keep you believing that shit.” I walk into the spare bedroom, one I stayed in when I was too afraid of what my brothers would say if they saw me after some of my fights. I lay her on the bed. Her eyes widen as I reach behind me and pull my shirt over my head, then toss it to the floor. She moans, and I make damn sure I flex a bit while I unbutton and unzip my pants. She licks her lips, then bites down on her lower lip before slowly releasing it. “You are no less deserving. You have given me so much. To me, you’re a prince—my prince. You want a girl like me? A girl who is scarred and so—” I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take her talking about herself like that. “I’m no prince, little one. Look at me. I’m scarred too, but when you look at me like you do, I instantly want to own your body, your heart, your soul. I gave myself these scars. You had no choice, but fuck if it isn’t something I know I’ll never get enough of looking at, admiring. You endured all of that, and when you found a way out, you took it. You are so good, so kind, so willing to please a man like me. I would willingly bow down in front of you and give you everything I have.” “Good touch,” she whispers. “I’m gonna give you the best I can. Exactly what you deserve. Not that alley, not—” “Please,” she pleads. I kick off my jeans, then grab a condom, throwing it on the bed. Then I lean over and pull her up. “Arms up.” As I take my time lifting her shirt, I kiss each inch of skin I expose, my heart beating against my chest more and more rapidly. Throwing the shirt on the ground, I kiss her again, placing my hand behind her back as I lower her onto the bed. Then I sprinkle kisses sweetly, softly, lazily from her mouth down her jaw to her tits, where I suck gently, using all the restraint I never knew I had in order to give her what she deserves—adoration. I pull away and kiss down her belly, making sure I kiss the fading yellow bruises on her ribs, and she squirms. “Do they hurt, Totty?” “More,” she says, so I kiss lower. I kiss from hip to hip as I hook my thumbs inside her skirt and panties and slowly lower them, kissing and licking her skin as each inch becomes bared to me. When she lifts her hips, I pull them the rest of the way off. Her knees fall apart, totally exposing her to me. I kiss the apex of her thighs as I cup her gently and pet her softly. She moans and her back arches, pushing her pussy harder against my hand. I part her sweet little lips with my finger, causing her to take in a big breath and clench the comforter. I run my nose across her pussy and inhale her scent, a growl escaping my chest as I flick my tongue across her taut little clit.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she whimpers. I lick her again, and she murmurs something incomprehensible, her thighs closing around my head. I lean back, and she sighs. She is glistening, soaked with want for me, for more good touch. I push a finger inside her and curl it up, and she immediately tightens as her pussy quivers around my finger. I swear I’m gonna come watching her, smelling her, hearing her, so I break away before I do and roll on the condom. Propping myself over her, I tell her, “Look at me, little one, and don’t stop. I wanna see you when you come. I wanna see you come all the damn time. Fuck.” I stroke myself between her hot lips, then place my head against her opening, and her back arches, letting me know she wants more. “No, Totty, don’t do that shit. I wanna do you nice and slow. You do that and it’s gonna be over before I’m all in.” She reaches up and pulls my head down, kissing me, and I push inside a little more. I focus on her tongue, my tongue, our mouths as I slowly, inch by inch, fill her until I can’t possibly fill her any more. Then I pull back so we can both breathe. She is watching me like I asked, intensely, hungrily. I move slowly in and out, in and out. She whimpers my name with each inward thrust. “I’m gonna do this to you all night long,” I say with determination. “Please,” she whimpers. Tangled in each other with no sheets and the light from the nightlight illuminating her, I take her soft. I take her slow. I make her come over and over until she is too fucking exhausted to move anymore. Finally, I can’t ignore the burn anymore. “I’m gonna come.” “Yes,” she moans. “Yes.” “Then we’re doing this again.” “Harder,” she whimpers. “As you wish,” I say, taking her hard, pounding out my release.

Chapter 20

Tatiana I wake up to the smell of coffee, and when I open my eyes, I see him, my scarred prince, standing beside the bed. He leans down and kisses me. “Sleep well?” I yawn, smile, stretch, and look around. “I sure did.” I start to sit up and am immediately aware of the ache between my thighs. “Sore?” he asks, trying to seem concerned, yet there is a glint of something else in his eyes —mischief. I smile. “Are you proud of yourself?” “It was good touch, wasn’t it?” he asks, sitting down and handing me the cup of coffee. “Sure was.” I hold it in my hands, taking in the warmth. He’s looking at my chest, and I feel my nipples tighten from my awareness. “Mmm,” he says and stands quickly. “I’m gonna head over to the gym and tie up some lastminute details on Shaw’s services tomorrow. I messaged Johnny. Your old man’s ashes will be ready to pick up by noon. If you feel up to it, we’ll take him to the river. If you don’t want to, we can put him in the Dumpster. Your call.” He bends down and kisses my cheek. “I want to do what’s right by him.” He looks at me, and I’m not sure if I made him angry or not. “Is that okay?” “Whatever you want, I want,” he replies. “Then why do you look like that?” “Like what? Sexy? Strong?” I laugh, and he smiles. “All of that, but also upset with me.” “You just look at the world differently than anyone I ever met.” “That’s a bad thing?” “No, Totty, not bad. I knew you were special, different…better.” He pauses, and I like the way he is looking at me. “Fucking beautiful.” He adjusts himself. “You make me hard as hell instantly.” “So I guess you kind of like me.” I smile and look down. “I more than like you, Totty. Way more than like you.” “Good, please don’t stop.” I feel so warm, so…happy.

“Try to make me.” He winks. “Okay, I’ll lock the door on my way out. Why don’t you look around and maybe shower while I’m gone? Then I want to hit the cop shop, the river, and that bed again.” Jagger leaves, and for once in my life, I am excited for someone to come home after spending so many years alone and happy being that way because alone meant safe. My mind goes over all the new information. I am, indeed, a US citizen, so they can’t send me back to Russia. I have money, though I don’t know much about having money and what to do with it other than hide it. Father hated banks. He always went on and on about corrupt systems stealing hard-earned money. Jagger will help me figure it out, though. I smile to myself. Wow, I am smiling. Jagger Caldwell gives me that. If this is really what love is, please don’t let it ever stop. Moving around the space, I take in the home. There are no pictures on the walls. The furniture has seen better days but is in better shape than the stuff I have. I sit on the worn couch with faded olive-green fabric that probably came from the seventies as I look around me. The television is the only new piece of electronics in the place. I chuckle, wondering if there is cable. Since it is quiet, I continue to sit and think. Peace. For the first time, I am sitting on a couch, not worrying about the next task, getting it right, and what kind of mood the monster I lived with would come home in. I sit. It doesn’t take long before I can’t simply sit, but I have nowhere to go. Well, I should probably go back home and sort out the building. I can’t, though. Not yet. I don’t have it in me to figure out what happens next. I also can’t go back to that place without the memories assaulting me. I don’t know what is worse, the physical scars he left behind or the mental ones I can’t run away from. I get up and try to shake off the dread from my past. Going to the kitchen, I look under the sink for cleaners. Typical man, I think to myself as I find a box of Brillo pads and a bottle of soap. Well, this will have to do. I start to clean the countertops and stove, only to find they have barely been used. Most of the kitchen seems untouched. I dust what has settled, but there isn’t the usual grime. Then I wipe down the papered walls, my mind going back to the old wallpaper of our run-down apartment. So many times, I used school glue to try to tack the peeling paper back up. Maybe, for some people, wallpaper wouldn’t matter. Maybe, for some people, dust wouldn’t matter. It’s not about what I had or didn’t have, what I have now or what I will have. It’s about taking care of it and taking pride in it. Just because I didn’t live in a house adorned in chandeliers, it doesn’t mean I wanted to look at peeling wallpaper. I spent all of my time inside my home, and every part of me needed to feel like it was home. My father may not have cared about being in the slums, but I could make the best of being there. I rub the fragile paper between my fingers, and the grit of the material gives way as it rips. There’s no glue and not enough moisture in the decorated paper to make it stick. My instincts scream to pull it back, tear it down, and make it fresh again.

I stop myself. This isn’t my home. The weight crushes me, and I drop to my knees. Where is home? I let the tears fall, needing to purge. I need to let it all out. I cry for the little girl who once had a mom, a mom who really did love her, from what I saw in the pictures. I cry for the little girl who hasn’t known family. I cry for the girl who grew into a woman who is now lost. I cry for the woman who has to pick up the pieces. Then my tears change, and I swallow the lump. I cry because I am free. I cry for the woman inside me who is ready to rebuild. I cry for the wallpaper that needs to come down to give fresh life to the space I occupy. I cry because, like that wallpaper, my skin will heal from the bruises that can’t be seen anymore. I will be freshly covered and new in the life I now lead. I will not be the tattered and torn paper, but a woman who is not defined by the scars marking her past. I am free. I am me. So caught up in my thoughts, I don’t hear him return. It’s not until his large hands grip me and pull me to standing that I look teary-eyed into the face of everything good in my life. Jagger Caldwell’s deep-brown eyes are wide in worry, while my dark eyes dance in emotions unspoken. “Little one,” he whispers, looking me over and trying to understand why I’m upset. Smiling, I blurt out, “I hate wallpaper.” “Okay, so we change it,” he states. “Jagger, I really hate wallpaper.” He releases me without speaking and pulls at the piece that curled back. He yanks and the paper comes off in a big piece, leaving some behind. Then he turns to me, and using his thumbs, he wipes my tears. “Don’t cry over wallpaper, Totty.” I reach up and grab his wrists. “I’m ready to let go. I’m ready, Jagger.” Fresh tears fall as he studies me. “Well, let’s get the ashes.” He doesn’t move, keeping my face still cupped in his large hands. “Good touch.” I smile softly. “Everything good.” He pulls me to him and kisses my forehead. — Quietly and respectfully, we spill my father’s ashes into the Detroit River while a breeze blows, and a soft smile plays on my lips. In my little-girl dreams, that was my mother wrapping her arms around me. She loved me. She really loved me. The loss of my father gave me that. It gave me the truth. Hand in hand, Jagger and I walk back to his truck. He opens the door and makes sure I’m settled before closing it and moving to his side.

I watch as the muscle in his jaw tics. He is deep in thought, which allows me to sit and admire the man who is stronger than the muscles in his body, the man who is more than any prince, hero, or knight in shining armor. Jagger Caldwell is the good in a world full of bad. My father gave me that without knowing it. Maybe my mother gave Jagger to me. In my little-girl daydreams, I like to think he is a gift from an angel. His arm is stretched out to the steering wheel, controlling the movements of the truck. The script of the word Legacy flexes and moves with each movement of his fingers and arm. It is like the word is part of him. He is a legacy. Forever, he has touched my life. Forever, I will remember him. Forever, I want to make sure he carries on. We pull up to his new place from Shaw and make our way inside. Needing to wash my face, I go to the bathroom. When I’m done, I come out with a serious need to be connected in every way with Jagger. This is more than a need to have him touch me. This is a carnal desire from my soul. I need to feel the good from the inside. When I come out, Jagger is on the couch, looking contemplative. “What’s on your mind?” “You.” His answer is short, yet laced in heavy emotion. “What about me?” He crooks his finger, directing me to him. Once I get within reach, his hands snake out and pull me on his lap. “You are so beautiful.” He nuzzles into my neck, sending shivers through me. His arm rests over my thighs, and I trace the letters of the word Legacy. “Momma,” he whispers. “More than Momma, Jagger. You are a legacy all your own.” “Just a man, Totty. I’m just a man who was raised by a strong woman who taught her sons to love fiercely, protect always, and no matter how hard or long the fight, you never give up.” “She gave you good, Jagger.” “Yeah, she did.” “I didn’t have good,” I whisper, turning myself to straddle him, “until you.” Brushing my lips to his, I don’t give him a chance to reply. His lips part, and I press my tongue between them, finding entrance into his hot, wet mouth. His hands slide up my back, where he pulls my hair into a bunch in one hand and tugs. The jolt of my hair being pulled lights my nerve endings on fire. He pulls a little harder, separating my mouth from his. The V-neck of my shirt exposes my collarbone, and he drops his head to nip at it. I rock against him, seeking friction as I wind my hands around his neck. “Give me good, Caldwell,” I moan, and before I know it, my clothes are flying along with his. Lips crash to mine as he pushes my head to him. His words come back to me. A strong woman who taught her sons to love fiercely. Something inside me ignites, and the fire burning deep in my soul explodes as I take control, sliding myself onto his hardened length.

“Fierce,” I whisper. “Give me fierce.” I bite my bottom lip, sliding up and down, arching my back and pushing my small breasts to his face. He quickly takes the right one in his mouth while his hand comes up to twist the nipple of the left. He sucks hard. I want more. I arch and push myself onto him. “Harder!” Once he complies, I am on edge, wildly riding up and down his shaft. Then his hands grip my hips, stopping me. Lifting me effortlessly, he slides me off him, and I instantly feel empty. I can’t stop myself from pouting. “Protection, little one.” He smirks, going to his jeans to get a condom. “I’m too close to going off.” His words hit me again. Protect always. Oh, how I would have loved to have known his mother, to have someone like her in the darkest of times. I can see how they could get through it together. I had my will. I had my drive to have something better one day. I had my little-girl dreams of a man just like Jagger Caldwell being the one to give me good in my world full of bad. Dreams really do come true. I am on my back with my ankles around Jagger’s neck when he slides back into me. “Harder,” I cry out. I want to feel him. I want him to pound into me and make all the bad feel oh so good. He gives it to me hard, his gaze locked on mine, sweat beading on us. He brings my ankles to his shoulders, straightening my knees and keeping my thighs together. Then he slides all the way out and slams back in. My muscles contract, and every inch of me wants more. Reaching up, I tweak my nipples, pinching harshly at the same moment Jagger enters me. I push my hips up, sending him deeper, and it makes me see stars. My stomach visibly contracts, as do the walls of my pussy, as the aftershocks of the orgasm roll through me, and Jagger’s eyes remain bright with restraint. His words hit me again, escaping in a sultry whisper. “Never give up on me, Jagger Caldwell.” “Never,” he groans as he slides out and back in. After three more times, I am on edge. “Harder,” I beg. He drops my ankles and spreads me wide. He wraps one leg around his waist, the other hanging off the couch. Then his rough hands rub the insides of my thighs almost where we are joined, and my body trembles. “Need,” I pant, “you.” “You’ve got me.” “Harder!” His hands grip my thighs, pressing me wider. His thumbs move my pussy lips open, and the air hits me with every thrust, giving me an entirely new sensation. The rough feeling of his masculine thumbs against the sensitive skin of my pussy lips as he rubs the hair there

only sets me more on fire. In and out, he thrusts, his balls slapping me with each thrust. The sensations become too much, and I cry out my orgasm. His hands move up my sides as he drops to his elbows, hovering over me. Gently, he then kisses me as he slides in and stills, and I pulse around him, draining us both. He pushes the hair out of my face. “You’ve got me, Totty,” he repeats his earlier statement, and I smile. After taking a few moments to get our breathing to normal, he slides out and guides me up and to the shower. In the bathroom, I can’t help laughing at the peeling wallpaper. “Little one, I must be doing something wrong if the thought of having a shower with me has you laughing.” I turn to him, heat in my eyes. “I hate wallpaper.” He laughs with me before we take a shower, during which he makes sure I forget about the wallpaper and only think about holding on to the wall as he brings me to another orgasm, this one from behind. Stepping out of the shower, he gently dries me off before I put on pajamas, and he slides on boxer briefs. We snuggle together in the bed we share here in the guest room. I laugh into the quiet against his chest. “Most beautiful sound in the world,” he whispers. At his words, my body deliciously sore, I relax against him and fall asleep, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat. For the first time in my life, I go to sleep completely satisfied and not afraid of what tomorrow may bring. — Today is Shaw’s service. Today I will be strong for Jagger. Today I give back to him a small piece of everything he has given to me. Kid, Jagger, and I meet up at the gym with Morrison, Hailey, Hendrix, and Livi. It is so amazing to watch this group of people interact as a true family. Morrison keeps Hailey tucked to his side, and Hendrix stays behind Livi, holding her in his arms while his hands rest on her belly. Jagger never lets go of my hand. With our fingers laced together, linked, he doesn’t let go, and I find strength in the gesture. I find comfort in our bond. I find my place at his side. I feel like I have found home. It is a solemn time—facing the loss of the man who was more of a father to Jagger than his old man ever really was. We haven’t had much time to talk about what is going on in Jagger’s world, but Livi told me how much Shaw meant to him when he couldn’t come to me right after the loss. It is comforting to know his family has his back and, as Livi has told me, mine, too. Suddenly the door to the gym opens and in walks Cobra. Tensions rise and the atmosphere changes. I try to let go of Jagger’s hand to greet my friend, but he isn’t having any of it. “Where’s your crew, Cobra?” Morrison asks as he moves Hailey behind him. Watching the Caldwell brothers each move their women to safe places pulls at my heartstrings.

“I came alone.” Hendrix laughs sarcastically. “I don’t buy that.” “Came to pay respect to Shaw and check on Mouse.” Cobra looks to me, and I wave with my free hand. “Tatiana is fine. This isn’t a game, Cobra,” Jagger growls. “Just wanted to check on my friend. I needed to make sure she is really okay. I don’t want everything I did for her to be for nothing.” “What the fuck are you talkin’ about ‘did for her’?” Jagger asks. I try to pull away again to talk, but his hand squeezes mine, keeping me in place. “Mouse,” Cobra says, looking to me. “What did you do?” I ask. “Think about it. Think about it and you will see,” he replies eerily, making my spine crawl with trepidation. I thought he was my friend. “Jason, thank you for the safe place to stay,” I say softly. “I’m good, as you can see.” Feeling the tension rising even more, I add, “Shaw appreciates your time and respect. You should go, though. I’ll see you around, okay?” “Mouse, anytime, anything you need, I’m here.” He brings a business card over and slips it into my hand. “Anything for you, for your safety.” Jagger stands eye to eye with him, keeping Cobra from getting any closer than arm’s length from me. “You did what you came to do. Now it’s time to go,” Hendrix pipes up, putting his hand on Cobra’s shoulder, and Kid steps over to my other side so Cobra gets the message. He squeezes my hand with the business card once more before letting go. “It’s good to know you have people, Mouse. That includes me. No matter what any of them think of me, if you need anything, I’m here.” “Time to go,” Hendrix repeats firmly. Cobra shrugs him off. “For now, yes.” He looks to Jagger. “I’ll be seeing you. Me and you, Caldwell, we have unfinished business.” “Not the time or the place, Cobra,” Jagger says, and I can feel the anger building in him. Fear grips me, not for what Jagger may do, but for how he may feel. He’s right. This isn’t the time or place. This is his time to mourn. He gave me that for a man who didn’t deserve it half as much as Shaw. Now it is my time to give it to him. “Cobra, I got your message. Go.” He winks at me before turning to leave. If looks could kill, the Caldwells murder Cobra as he leaves us. It takes a little while for the mood to change, and throughout the service there is an underlying tension building between Jagger and me. My thoughts go back to Cobra. What could he have done for me? Then a thought hits me, but I shake it off. There’s no way Cobra killed my father. He said he wanted to be good. He said he hit his girl out of anger, not some thought-out violence. This is not something I know how to deal with.

Though Jagger keeps me close, I feel like he is distant. Is he mad at me? Is he hurting? The service ends, and I want to take all his pain away. I have a moment when I want to rub my butt like Livi, remembering the panties I have on from her. I need to be here for my man. I need the connection we share. I need the calm he gives me by being with me. I need him to let go of the loss and let me share in his burden as he did mine.

Chapter 21

Jagger She is a ball of nerves, and I am so fucking twisted up I can’t see straight. I can’t see anything except her. Her and me. Me and her. Her and fucking me, not him. Never him. I strip off my suit—I hate wearing those fucking things for weddings and funerals—as she strips out of her little black dress. As she stands in her underwear and no bra, I look at her ass. Splayed across it is I am strong. Livi, I sigh to myself. How the hell does she do it? Unintentional as it was, I needed to see that now more than ever. I needed the reminder that Tatiana loves me. She’s said it before, so if that motherfucker killed her father and thought Totty would go to him, seeking protection, he is wrong. Dead fucking wrong. Why? Because my girl is fucking strong. I don’t need her weak and needy. I need her strong and…I pause the little chat I’m having with myself when she turns around and lets her hair down. “Jagger?” she says as she slowly stalks toward me like she is the predator, and I am now the prey. “Tatiana.” She looks me up and down. I am just as bare as she is. Hell, I wore boxers today and fuck if they don’t match hers. Maybe I need some fucking print on them, saying I’m her fucking man, not the bitch who names himself after a snake, probably because his dick is a fucking worm. She grabs ahold of me and squeezes my dick, causing me to growl. She then kisses my chest and moves to my arm. Legacy. “Your momma would be proud of you,” she whispers. “Such a good man, strong man.” She squeezes tighter. “My man.” “Fucking right I am,” I groan. “My champion”—she kisses my hand, then licks my finger—“has the strike of a lion and the heart of a lamb.” “Fuck, Totty,” I say as she sucks on my middle finger. “Shaw would be proud of you too.” She takes another one in her mouth and sucks it. She sucks it really good. Then she slowly draws it out and rubs it across her lips. “I am proud of you.” She takes my hands and walks toward me, pushing me until my back hits the wall. Then she kisses my chest. “I love your scars.” She kisses lower. “I love mine now too. You did that for me. You make everything okay.” She drops to her knees, pulling my cock out of my boxers. “Beautiful. Soft and hard at the

same time, kind of like you.” Her tongue circles my dick, and I grab her hair, making sure not to pull it. I just need to touch her. Totty takes me in her hands, one wrapped partially around my dick and the other gently tugging my balls. Then she takes me in deeper and looks up at me with wide eyes, seeking approval. “Fucking perfect, Totty. Better than perfect.” She seems content as her tongue caresses the underneath of my cock, and she strokes me as she takes me deeper and deeper. “So good. So fucking good.” My hand tightens around her hair, and she moans. She takes me all the way, swallowing my dick before pulling back, saliva streaming from my cock to her mouth as she pumps me harder, faster, then takes me again. My hips thrust forward, and Tatiana looks up at me. She swallows it again, then pulls back. She holds me up and licks the underside of me lower and lower until her tongue glides across my balls. She sucks one, then the other, holding me firmer, pumping harder. Then she licks up, rubs her face against my dick, and takes me in her mouth slowly, eyes on me, hungry, sexy, and needy. “I don’t want you to stop, little one, but I need to make you come with me.” I reach down and drag my cock out of her mouth, immediately regretting the loss of warmth. I lift her from under her arms as she squirms. “I want to finish,” she almost growls. I sit on the bed. “I want you on my face.” I lie back, bringing her down with me, and I kiss her hard. She drags her teeth down my tongue and pulls away. She rolls to her side and quickly moves down, taking my cock inside her mouth again. My hips thrust up, and she gags. “Sorry, fuck,” I groan, trying to pull her mouth back to mine. Her teeth clamp down, not hard, but enough to tell me she has no intention of stopping. “Damn, fuck, damn,” I say as her head bobs up and down on my dick. “Have it your way, but I’m getting mine, too.” I reach behind her and grab her ass, lifting it and pulling her toward me. “What are you doing?” she says with a shocked expression. “Never mind, Totty. You keep eating my cock. I’m gonna eat your sweet little pussy, and you’re gonna come right along with me.” I lift her tiny ass and move her so she’s over me. Then I lean up and suck hard on her soaked lips. “Mmm…” “Oh God…How…?” I suck harder, bringing her down on my face as I spread her wide with my hands and shove my tongue inside of her hot, wet cunt. Her hips buck, and she sucks harder. Feasting. We are feasting on one another, taking pleasure and giving it. She tugs my balls while I nip her lips, and it doesn’t stop. I am so deep in her pussy and her mouth, I may never want to come out. “Swallow me, baby. I’m gonna fill your mouth, and you’re gonna come all over mine,” I growl when I feel my balls draw up.

“Yes.” She strokes me harder and takes me deeper again. I rub my thumb across her tight little hole as I tongue-fuck the other one. She trembles, then stiffens, and I know she’s just as much there as I am. “Come, dammit. Come now.” She cries out her orgasm as my come pumps into her open mouth. We are both still trying to catch our breath, still in the sixty-nine position, when I am finally able to form a sentence. “Get up here and let me hold you.” She rolls to her side, sits up, and crawls into my arms with her head on my chest. Within minutes, we are both asleep. — When I wake up to soft, sweet purrs, she is still asleep in my arms. I don’t want to wake her. It’s been a hell of a week. For her, it’s been a hellacious eighteen years. I love that she can sleep. I love that she trusts me enough to know she is safe and protected with me. And I love that the asshole Cobra thought that insinuation of him killing her old man would make her want him and not me. Obviously fucking not. I feel possessive of her, and it frightens me. I shouldn’t need any one person as much as I need her. I shouldn’t want any one person as much as I want her. I shouldn’t desire any one person as much as I desire her. I don’t want her to wake up someday finally feeling normal and decide she wants the hell out of here, away from me. My ass is too far gone on her that I don’t want the need, want, or desire to ever go away. I need to hit shit. I need to break shit. I need to run. However, I don’t want to. I want to hold her and keep her forever. Forever? What in the fuck? Gone, I am so fucking gone. “I love you, Jagger Caldwell,” comes out in such a low whisper I think I may be imagining it. She’s said it before, and I believed it then. I need to now. “I love you too, little one,” I say in a whisper just as low. She doesn’t move, doesn’t stir, and I feel like I’m going to need to be inside her again if I don’t get the fuck up. I slide out from under her and go to the bathroom. I consider washing my face, but then decide I don’t want to. I can still smell her. I lick my lips, and I can taste just a hint of her. Sick fuck. I laugh at myself in the mirror. — I’m in the kitchen, filling a water bottle, when she comes out. “Did you sleep well, beautiful?” She smiles, then shakes her head and covers her face. I walk over and pull her hand away. “You are, you know.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Not strong enough, echoes in my mind. “Go grab some shorts and one of my T-shirts. You and I are gonna go blow off some steam.” She thumbs back toward the bedroom. “Can’t we just do it in there?” “We can when we get back. We can all night long. But this is kind of important for both of us.” After she changes, we walk next door, where I lead her to the ring. “I need you to learn how to fight back.” She nods and looks around the gym, her eyes going everywhere, avoiding mine. I grab her chin. “Totty, I need you to learn how to fight back.” “I have you.” The sadness in her voice makes my chest ache. “You do, but—” I stop when she sighs, and I swear she rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on now. Do it for me,” I say in a teasing voice, and she smirks, closes her eyes, and shakes her head. “Fine. I need to know that, if something ever happens to me, you can take care of yourself, because I swear to everything I love”—her eyes snap to mine when she hears the word love —“that if I leave this fucking earth, I left not only something good in the world, but…” I pause and pull her close to me. “I left the person I know damn well I will love forever stronger because of me and for me.” “You—” “I love you, Totty. I’ve known it from the moment I left the cop shop when your old man— Rand—pressed charges. The need to protect was strong, but the need to see you, watch you, care for you, and, yes, love you has not gone away. It’s only grown stronger. I fucking love you, Tatiana Rand.” I close my eyes and shake my head. “I’ve only said that to one other woman in life, my momma. No one else.” “Then I can stay here? I can stay with you? I don’t have to go back there? I—” “You not only can stay with me, but you will. Like it or not, you’re mine to protect, teach, cherish, touch”—I reach out and pull her against me—“and love. No one else.” “Never.” She smiles, and a different kind of tear escapes her eyes. “Good. Now kiss your man.” She immediately does, whispering, “I love you,” against my mouth. “I love you.” I step back and take her shoulder. “Now I’m gonna teach my girl all the shit she needs to know to be as strong outwardly as she has been inwardly.” She nods and smiles. “Okay.” “Tell me what you would do if I did this.” I grab her, spin her around, and pull her tightly against me. “I’d let you. I kind of like it.” I look down as she looks up and smiles. “You gonna keep being wise, or are you gonna be serious here for about twenty minutes?” She laughs, and I pull her more securely to me, whispering in her ear, “As soon as I’m satisfied here, I’ll take you back to our place and make damn sure you’re satisfied there.”

“You have my full attention.” “Good. What would you do if a stranger grabbed you like this?” “I don’t know. I just don’t know,” she says sadly. “Elbow as hard as you can to the gut and scream, little one. You scream so I can hear you. If I’m across town, I wanna hear you, understand?” “Yes.” “And when you elbow someone, do it to hurt them.” “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” “Then pretend it’s him.” She stiffens. “Pretend you are me.” “Okay.” “Elbow me, Totty, and make it fucking hur— Damn,” I grunt after I can breathe again. “Did I hurt you?” “No. Just took me by surprise. You did well.” I turn her to me and grab loosely around her neck. “What do you do in this situation?” “Jagger, you have to tell me, okay?” I nod. Fuck, she doesn’t have an aggressive bone in her body when my dick’s not involved. “Chin down immediately, tight as you can to your chest, guard your windpipe, and then grab his face. Then you sink your thumbs into his eye sockets, draw him closer, and your knee hits wherever it can. You understand?” She nods her head vigorously. “Now try it.” We spend well over twenty minutes working on shit that would help if she can make it instinctive. Come hell or high water, I will make sure she does. “Injure. Repeat the word over and over. You injure your attacker, and they immediately are thrown off. Injure.” “Injure,” she repeats. “Good. Now again.” “But I thought we were going back to the house,” she almost whines. “Self-defense, then sex.” “Sex, then self-defense,” she counters. And I am putty in her hands. “Fine, have it your way, but after I fuck you, don’t complain of exhaustion. We’re coming back here.”

Chapter 22

Tatiana Jagger and I went to the store to get supplies to clean and to get rid of the wallpaper. Cleaning is comforting to me, always has been. No matter how bad things got with my father, no matter how sore I was after an episode, I found comfort in the accomplishment of cleaning. It possibly makes me as crazy as Livi with her need for panties, but I need to clean. I need to have that control and something to do without dwelling on what may or may not happen next. Starting in Shaw’s old bedroom and bathroom, I scrub the tub, toilet, and tile. I smile when it is done and the only major eyesore is the yellowed wallpaper. His bedroom is like the rest of the house—understated elegance from the past. The quilt is obviously old and has a woman’s touch in the soft blue flowers and the worn edging. I change the bedding to the new stuff Jagger and I purchased. The vibrant red bedspread is a complete contrast to the faded green wallpaper with apples adorning the walls. My hope is to paint the walls in a soft gray and add black accents to the room. I am packing Shaw’s clothes from the dresser when Livi and Hailey show up to be part of the cleaning party. “Somebody got a deal from the Wallpaper Factory in like 1977.” Hailey laughs. “I would say 1984,” Livi comments with a snort. I leave the room and meet them in the entryway. “Jagger is next door at the gym and will be right home,” I tell them. “That’s nice, but we aren’t here for him.” “Huh?” “Family, Tatiana. We’re all family. We’re here to help you,” Livi states as she moves past me to the kitchen where the cleaners, rubber gloves, rags, sponges, and all the other supplies sit on the counter. Tears fill my eyes. All I have ever dreamed of was a family and having someone help me. Jagger gave me this, too. He gives me everything good. We get to work, and hours pass before I know it. Everything is clean, and the wallpaper is ready to come down without making a mess on top of a mess. Excitement fills me and then leaves as I wonder if Jagger will be okay with this. He says he is, but everything has happened so quickly. “Stop thinking whatever you are thinking,” Hailey barks, eyeing me suspiciously. “How do you know I am thinking anything at all?” “From one broken broad to another, we can tell. Don’t overthink it, Tatiana.”

“It’s all so fast.” Livi snorts. “Caldwells just know. We women are the ones who have to catch up. The brothers have loved and lost deeply. When they find the woman they want, they don’t let go, only give you the space you need to find yourself. Once you do, they claim, and, baby girl, you let them. There are no better men out there than the Caldwell brothers. Momma Caldwell raised them right,” Livi adds proudly. “Was it fast for you?” I ask. “Really? Since Jagger has been chasing you since before Hendrix and I even met, I would say you are late to the party, but hey, better late than never.” Hailey pipes up. “Don’t question it. Just feel it. Nothing better than what these men give. You deserve good, Tatiana. Let Jagger give you all the good he has inside him.” “He gives me good.” I smile sweetly. “Oh, if he’s anything like Hendrix, I’m sure he does.” Livi smirks and rubs her belly. “Morrison gives good too.” Hailey laughs. “Oh my,” I gasp. “I didn’t mean—” “Honey, you are a woman, a red-blooded woman, so it’s okay to like it good,” Hailey responds. “Especially with a man like Jagger. I bet he’s got moves.” Livi snorts as she laughs. Hailey’s phone rings, distracting our moment. “Hey, Slick,” she answers and pauses. “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip as her brows draw together. “I don’t know. I…Oh, man. I don’t want to turn them away. Where can we put them?” Tears fall down her cheeks as she listens. “Morrison, I didn’t expect it to do so well. I don’t want to put anyone out, and I don’t want to turn anyone away. The Nest is a safe place, a place of comfort, not a place to be rejected at the door.” She pauses. I look to Livi, trying to figure out what has Hailey so upset. “I know, I know, but I have been there—not knowing where to go. Hello, that’s how I ran away with you.” She smiles through the tears. “Best thing I ever did for me and Ris Priss.” She sighs, listening. “Okay. We’ll figure something out. We just have to.” There is another pause while Morrison talks to her. “I love you more. Bye.” She ends the call and looks to me and Livi. “Momma’s Nest is full, and there is a single mom with two kids seeking help. She’s pretty banged up from what our resident in charge said.” She wipes her tears. “I don’t want to turn anyone away.” Being a single mom to her daughter, Marisa, she knows the struggles. Momma, the word, the title, the person—it all goes through my mind. What would life have been like if my mother had a place to go with me? What if she could have found help? The thought of a mom and two children having to go back and endure hell at the hands of the man in their lives has me weak in the knees. Silently, I move to sit on the couch. Livi watches me carefully. “You okay, Tatiana?” “Yeah, just memories.” “Oh, Tatiana, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what this would stir up for you.”

I have no words. I don’t want to see Morrison and Hailey have to turn someone away. I wish there was something I could do. I wish I could go back in time and give my mom somewhere to run to. Then again, if she had, I wouldn’t be here with Jagger. I wouldn’t have found my good in the world full of bad. “Hailey,” I say her name softly, unsure of myself. “Tatiana, I’m sorry I upset you.” “No, it’s not that. I have a building.” Embarrassment hits me. “I mean, it’s not nice. The units need work, and I can’t use them all because some tenants pay rent, and I need to look out for Ms. Simmons, especially after, well, everything,” I ramble. “Tatiana, what are you trying to say?” Hailey asks, still worrying that she upset me. “I don’t want anyone turned away. I have the building—the apartments. They aren’t luxurious. It is a place to start, though. Well…if you…if they…if you want…I don’t know… um…call Morrison,” I stammer as Hailey starts crying again. I don’t know what to say. She pulls me up off the couch and into a tight hug. “I had an ex. He was bad. Manipulative, crazy, dangerous. Morrison saved me. He built Momma’s Nest so no one would have to feel trapped like me, like you were. Oh, Tatiana, you are the good too.” She is sobbing, and I can’t help crying with her. “It’s just a few apartments,” I say modestly. “For some people, that is everything,” Livi whispers, her own tears streaming down her face. “When you are down to nothing, it is important to appreciate every little something you can get.” I wipe my own tears. “When you finally get something real, you know to hold on to it, and nothing feels better than giving that opportunity for good to someone else. You have to keep hope alive inside people,” I say to the two amazingly strong women in front of me. For the first time in my life, I can give back and be a part of something bigger than me. For the first time, I get to be part of a family. As broken as each of us has been, we come together to fit each other perfectly, as if it was destiny.

Chapter 23

Jagger “Little one, what’s wrong?” She’s crying on the phone, and I can hardly understand her. “I’m coming over.” I hang up the phone and yell to Kid, “You got these two?” I point to the two new guys sparring in the ring. “I gotta run to the house.” I don’t wait for a yes, only go. I spring out the door, across the driveway, and open the door to the house, all in a rush to see what’s got her upset. When I open the door, I see all three of them, teary-eyed and smiling. It’s confusing as hell. When a man sheds a tear, it’s because his head is fucked up, in a bad place. There is no smile. But, as I am learning, when a woman cries, it could mean just about anything. Livi laughs and waves me over. These women are crazy, and not like padded-cell shit, like…emotional. Deeply fucking emotional. “Tell him,” Hailey says, nudging Totty. I stand there, eyes glued to hers, waiting for her to tell me something. Fuck, I am begging her. “I want to let Momma’s Nest use the apartments.” I nod, waiting for the bad news. “Is it okay with you?” “Totty, it’s yours,” I say, hoping she understands. When she doesn’t say a thing, I go on. “You can give it away. You can burn it down. You can do whatever the fuck you want with it, babe. It’s yours.” She cocks her head to the side. “Like this place is yours?” “This place is ours. That place…” I pause because my blood is boiling when I think about the hell she endured living there, and then I think of Momma and sigh. “It’s perfect. You don’t need my permission, but yes, make something good out of it.” “Morrison called,” Hailey says, shaking her head. “We’re full and someone came in today. She needs a safe place.” I look back at Totty, who is beaming. “I can make a difference.” “You’ve made a difference to me,” I tell her, walking up to her. “You keep making a difference.” I cup her face and run my thumb over her lips. “It makes you smile, and your smile, little one…Fuck, it’s beautiful.” I run my thumb up the scar. “If it makes you happy,

I’m happy.” “Oh. My. God,” Livi says, taking me out of the moment and making me realize we aren’t alone. I have no idea how that happens, but when she’s in the same room as me, no one fucking matters. Hell, I can’t concentrate worth a shit at the gym. I have no clue how my next fight is gonna go if she’s there. I tear my eyes away and look around the place. “No, this makes me happy, too. Looks great, ladies.” I take Tatiana’s hand so she knows I’m still here for her, my little one. “Wallpaper staying?” I look around. “Fuck, I hope not.” They all laugh, and Totty wraps her arms around me from the side. “You sure?” “Hell yes, I’m sure,” I tell her. “You know why?” I look down at her, and she shakes her head. “Because we hate wallpaper.” That gains me a kiss. “I’ll tear it down if you want.” “You have the gym to deal with. Shaw’s orders.” She smiles again. “I’ve got this.” “We’ve,” Livi says, “got this.” Hailey points to the door. “Shoo, go, get out of here.” I look down at Tatiana. “You good?” “Good,” she says with a glint of desire in her eyes. “Make it fast,” I say, squeezing her ass in my hands. “I’ll be back soon.” I kiss her quickly and head out the door before I pop wood. — In a week’s time, all the new equipment is ordered. My brothers, Kid, and I have been busting ass to clean up the place. It hasn’t been easy, either. With word getting out that I beat Cobra not once but twice, young underground hopefuls are coming in, signing up left and right. Most are street fighters, badasses with no technique. I know how Shaw must have felt when I walked through those doors. They will be really quick to take a man down, but if he didn’t stay down, if he could wear them down, they would be fucked. I took on four, and Kid took on seven. I would have, too, but I’m busy training Totty. She’s at the gym four to six hours a day depending on the exhaustion I caused the night before. She’s getting good, depending more on instinct than the shit she watched on the damn Internet. She is getting stronger every day. A weak man would find that intimidating. A weak man would try to pin her down and exert dominance over her. A strong man, a man like me, gets off on the thought that there may be a day, very soon, that she can pin me down. Fuck, she’s already trying to in bed, and it’s hot as hell, too. She wants it harder. I give it to her. I look up as Hailey and four women walk in. Then I look at Totty. She smiles. “All of them have been physically abused. All of them need your help. You’ll do it, right? You’ll train them like you do me?” I look at her in her black-and-pink little boxing shorts, her pink spandex tank top, and her gorgeous mane she has braided in pigtails.

“I would, but I don’t have time,” I answer, hoping to lead her where I want her. “But someone may hurt them, Jagger. What if you can make that not happen?” “Sorry, little one, but I have a fight to prepare for.” “What happened to being the good in a world of bad?” She is clearly angry. I shrug and start to walk away. “Nothing happened to it. The burden or blessing, whichever way you see it, just spread out a bit. Now I’m gonna go over here and teach these boys how not to get killed in a fight. What are you gonna do?” She scowls, then looks at me. “I can’t.” “Then you tell me, little one,” I say as I grab some gloves off the table next to me. “What happened to it?” For the next hour, she stands strong and teaches them, and my chest swells with pride. She is no longer the victim. She is the victor. Every time she looks at me, I make sure I look busy. I want her stronger, braver, and more confident. I want her to fear nothing. After the other ladies leave, she hangs out, punching, kicking, and even trying out some new equipment. It’s fucking torture. I want her, need her. She is sexy as hell, and she is mine. She leaves without a word, and I walk over quickly to the side window to make sure she gets in the house. I don’t trust that fucker Cobra. The more I think about our last run-in—the one here for Shaw’s service—the more I know damn well he was the man to send Rand to hell. I can guaran-damn-tee I won’t be shaking the hand of a man who killed Totty’s old man ’cause he thought it would bring her to him. Once she is inside, I head to the office to check on more orders and call an electrician. We need an inspection after the remodel. Two hours on the phone. Hell no, this wasn’t how I wanted to spend my day. Being in charge may have perks, but the responsibilities are more time consuming than I imagined. I need to work out. I laugh to myself when I think that sex with Totty is just as physical as any run can be. I can check off cardio at least once, sometimes twice a day. I walk out into the gym to see she is back, punching that bag. No one is here, so I can’t pretend I’m busy, nor do I want to. So I stand on the other side of the bag and hold it. “You wanna go to the bar tonight and have some dinner?” “I’m not twenty-one,” she says as she jabs the bag. “There’s food, Totty. You can be in there.” I laugh. She steps away from the bag and in front of me. “How about you get inside of me, and then you take me to the bar?”

Chapter 24

Tatiana What is it about this man that lights my body on fire? I feel like a needy little nymph. I am a needy little nymph. Livi says she is the same way with Hendrix. This whole can’t-get-enoughof-his-touch, the feeling, it’s more than sex; it’s a connection. It’s more than release; it’s passion. It’s more than physical; it’s emotional. What I have is Jagger Caldwell, and that is everything. We are in the shower at home—our home. Jagger wants to go to dinner at the bar. I smile. My first real date. After watching television on a regular basis and the books I have read, I definitely did things out of order. I am happy, though. I am beyond happy, so who cares about tradition and order? We get out after making out, barely forcing ourselves out of the shower to get ready. I tie the light-green ribbon in my hair. After all these months, it is fraying, but I don’t care. Then I walk into our bedroom to see Jagger dressed in faded jeans and a T-shirt that fits him perfectly across his broad chest. I am naked. “Tatiana,” he growls. I twist the ribbon in my fingers. Untying it, I remove it and hold each end in my hands before I go to him and swing the ribbon over his head, pulling him to me. Rather than kiss him like he expects, I suck hard on his lip as I back up to the bed, pulling him by the ribbon around his neck. When my legs find the edge of the bed, I bend my knees and fall backward, keeping Jagger with me. He catches himself with his arms to keep his weight off me, but I tug harder on the ribbon, needing him over me. From top to toe, I want him connected to me, covering me. “I love you, Jagger Caldwell,” I whisper against his lips. “Everything good.” He growls and takes me into a deep kiss, and our tongues dance as my need grows. Sliding my legs from under him, I wrap them around his waist. The denim rubbing against my exposed flesh, the rough material brings my skin to life. Every movement has me wanton and more than ready. He removes the ribbon from his neck and pushes back to stand. My legs slide down to behind his thighs as he stands over me, taking off his shirt and sliding off his jeans, freeing himself. Reaching out, he ties my hands with the ribbon loosely, letting me know I can get free if I want to. Then he pushes my hands over my head. “Keep them there. Eyes to me,” he orders, and I am more than eager to comply.

His fingertips tickle the underpart of my arms as he trails down my sides, his thumbs circling my nipples before his hands roam my ribs. His eyes never leave mine, and the depth in them only grows deeper and darker the more he touches me. I smile up at him. “Good touch.” After rolling the condom on his impressive length, he crosses my ankles and rests them over the curve of his butt. He then runs a finger through my lips, sliding my own moisture and need over me. Slowly, gently, he slides into me, and I arch up, seeking more, needing more, but his hands squeeze my thighs, stopping me. He is standing tall, proud, while I wiggle, trying to gain more friction. He smirks, which only makes me hotter with need. “Harder, Jagger.” I need him. I need to feel him. I want to know with every step I take that he has been there…He is mine. Still slow and gentle, he slides out and slides in, stilling inside me. His eyes never leave mine. I shake my head as I try to fight for more. “Eyes to me, Totty.” I do as I am told. There is something erotic in staring eye to eye with the man I love while he is joined with me from the inside. It also makes me feel vulnerable. In this moment, he can see right through me. I take a moment while he is statue-still, watching me, waiting for something. I search his eyes, the dark depths, trying to go where they take me. As I move my gaze momentarily to the knight’s helmet tattooed on his chest, then back to his, he doesn’t move. My body is full, deliciously full as I contract around him with my inner walls, and he only stares. It is then that I see into the man. He is more than the knight who saved me. He is more than the brother who loves fiercely. He is more than the fighter who trains and makes a living. He is Jagger Caldwell. He is the legacy of good in my world of bad. He is mine. When I bite my bottom lip and twist the ribbon ends in my fingers, he nods his head as if he knows I get it. Then I kick my heel into his back, trying to make him move, and he laughs. “I love you, Jagger Caldwell.” He slides out, and my body comes alive as he slowly slides back in. “I love you, Tatiana Rand.” “Mine,” I whisper, tapping my heel into his butt again. He smiles the biggest smile I have ever seen and brings it home. Eye to eye, never moving from my gaze, he thrusts in and out of me. The pace is fast as he rolls his hips, making him hit a spot inside of me that has me closing my eyes. I see the emotions shared between us building me up even more. I pull on the ribbon, the ribbon that started it all. This was my first connection to Jagger Caldwell, and now I have the man himself forever. “Harder,” I plead, and he gives it to me, pounding away. I feel his balls slap me as he goes deep. The emotions, the vulnerability, the noises, the feeling of him inside me, and the

knowledge that he has given me good in every aspect of my life have my heart swelling and my orgasm building. Fingers slide down my thighs, parting my lips as his thumb circles my clit. My eclipse rushes through me, and I clamp around him like a vice. He keeps his pace until the rhythm isn’t steady, and then he slides in and out one more time before he stills deep inside me, groaning his own release. Afterward, he leans down and kisses me softly. “I love you, Totty.” I try to catch my breath, but in all the sensations, I can only find the energy to nod. He smiles and pulls out of me. While he goes to the bathroom to clean up, I go to the closet to get dressed. It is my first date. A girl should make sure to dress nicely, I think excitedly as I go over the outfits hanging up. After finding the dress to match my ribbon, I exit the closet to find Jagger staring at me. His hands are on his hips and a smile on his lips. “Green never looked so good, baby.” “Is it your favorite color?” “Now it is.” “Then why always a green ribbon?” I ask, now curious. I always assumed it was his favorite color. “Momma had HPV, and that is the awareness ribbon color. I wanted a little piece of Momma with you.” Without stopping, I run over and jump in his arms. He gave me a piece of the woman who gave him everything before I even knew what he was giving me. I kiss him passionately, wanting more. “A man’s gotta eat, babe. I want you, but we both need to eat dinner.” “You’ll be my dessert, though, right?” I ask with a wink. “You’ll be mine,” he growls, kissing me again. — The bar is steady as we make our way inside. I look up and see a railing around the perimeter, then I see the stairs that lead up and wonder where it goes. The rest of the space looks like any other bar I have seen on television except Hendrix has a garage door that opens, and since the weather is nice, he has it up tonight, so it seems to draw more attention from the street. Jagger gently tugs my hand after we go inside to sit us at a table by the bar. Jagger and I give our orders for prime rib to the waitress. I think her name is Sally. A man at the bar turns on his stool and looks to Jagger. Raising his glass at us, he tips it back and drinks. “And another one bites the dust.” “Jared, stop that. You know we Caldwell women make everything better around here, Tatiana included.” Hailey smiles at the man. “Sure hope she can tell a joke better than you.”

I look to Jagger and then to Hailey, confused. Jagger laughs. “This is Jared. He’s one of the regulars.” “Hey, he’s family,” Hailey pipes in. “Damn right I am. I’m like the handsome uncle. They get their looks from me,” Jared says, smiling. “Beer goggles on again tonight, hey, Jared?” Jagger mocks. Jared laughs. “See? He’s a funny one. Hailey here needs help.” “Jared was the officiant for both my brothers’ weddings. He usually only likes people who can tell a good joke, but Hailey can’t tell jokes to save her life, and somehow, she still won him over.” “He performed the weddings for both of your brothers?” I ask in a whisper, Jared watching me. He raises his glass again. “Don’t knock it till you try it. I can give you the best damn ceremony of your life.” “Well, considering we only plan to do it once, it would have to be the best, now wouldn’t it?” Jagger retorts. Jared looks to me and winks. “See? Their momma raised them right.” He turns back to Hailey and finishes his drink. “She sure did,” I say, smiling at Jagger. We eat and hang out for a while, and when the end of the night comes, Jagger and I help clean up and close down. Jagger takes out the trash on our way out, and as he lifts the bag, something cuts his finger. He looks to his hand, and I take it in mine as a thought hits me about what he said about taking my virginity. “Jagger,” I say, watching him carefully. “I may not have your blood, but I have your heart.” “Yeah, Totty, you do.” He smiles. I lick his finger. The copper taste isn’t good, but it’s certainly not as bad as I thought it would be. “Now I have both.” “Makin’ me hard,” he states, and I look to his pants. “Then take me home, and we can do something about that.” I wink, biting his fingertip before releasing him. He tugs on the green ribbon in my hair. “You were fuckin’ made for me.”

Chapter 25

Jagger I train the kid I call Buck, a tall, lanky fucker. Some of the female clientele seem to think he’s good-looking. I have no clue what women think is appealing, don’t really give a shit, either. I have my girl. Buck’s young and thinks he knows it all. He is also full of something few could understand unless they have been there. Vengeance. I don’t have to ask him how he grew up. I know there was probably a feeling of no control in his environment. His father or mother seized all power and preyed on the weaker ones in the home. When I correct him, he seems pissed. He needs to be right because he never was before. I could go twenty rounds with him, and he wouldn’t give up. He’s angry when I show him I am stronger, but if I didn’t, he would end up dead. He shows up at 7:59 a.m. without fail. He needs the structure, so I give it to him. He needs to hit something, blow off steam, take his anger and aggression out on something. He is quick and strong, and so full of anger. He is me without the good parts I learned from Momma. I see Totty walking in out of the corner of my eye. She has a class of ten women, most of them from the Nest. They don’t pay a membership because she doesn’t need the cash. Well, not yet, anyway. My girl can spend some cash. Money means nothing to her, but you leave a towel on the floor, and she’s in stealth mode, hanging that shit up. I laugh to myself, and then I get hit hard with a right. Fucker! I sweep his legs, and he goes down. Then he pops up, red-eyed and angry. “Go do some stairs, Buck,” I say, walking away. “Because I got you?” he mocks me. “No, because you ended up on your ass when you thought it was cool to sucker punch me. Hit the fucking stairs.” “But—” he whines. I pull up the rope and climb out. “But nothing. Stairs.” I point to the machine. He doesn’t move, his jaw set. “Now.” He narrows his eyes and takes his own damn time taking off the gloves. Shit head. I watch little one teaching the same old shit, over and over. She has heart. She has drive.

She believes it will become instinctive to use the moves if ever attacked. I sure as hell hope so. In my experience, you either aim to injure or kill, or you take a beating. But I’m a man. I am proud of what she is doing, of who she’s becoming, and that the more we train together, the more her reactions pick up. She’s getting stronger on the inside and out. She’s got little muscles and shit, it’s hot. Kid walks over and hands me a water bottle. “Cobra’s guys are squawking on the street, calling you a pussy.” “That’s ’cause he wants my girl’s pussy and thinks he’ll get it if I lose. Stupid fuck has no idea”—I take a drink—“that she is as much mine as I am hers, no idea he’s gonna lose. I’m in better shape and stronger now than ever.” “I think you owe that to young Buck.” He smirks. I smirk back. “Maybe.” “There’s a lot of money out there to be made. Lots of the big spenders want in on the action.” I keep watching Totty as he speaks. “You can’t just hide away with the belt, man. Where’s the sport in that?” He walks away, and I let it settle in. He’s right. Where’s the sport in that? Not only that, but I want another piece of the motherfucker who thought taking a life would gain him admiration from someone who is mine. It’s time that motherfucker realizes it. I walk over as Kid holds the bag for another one of our new guys. He looks over at me. “Set it up,” I tell him and then go join Buck on the step machines to burn off some of my own fucking rage. — Game time. Fight night. After a week of pushing the limits and training harder than I ever have before, the time is here. The bell rings, bringing me to life. I have my brothers and my girl watching, and I have an opponent who thinks he’s got something to prove, something to take from me, something he can’t fucking have—Tatiana Rand. I watch how he openly takes her in, and that’s what lands him on his ass in one hit. I pin him, then hit him again. “She’s mine. You got that?” “You took my girl when I lost my temper one fucking time! You took the girl I loved. Now I’m gonna catch the mouse, and you’ll see how it feels.” “No woman deserves to be beat on! I didn’t take her, stupid fuck. You need to let that shit go.” I hit him again. “She came to me. That shit was over long ago. My girl isn’t a game.” I land two more punches and see his lip bust open. He pushes me off. I could have stopped him, but motherfucker wants to play cat and mouse. I will show him a thing or two. “You took the girl I could have loved, who chose to love a womanizing fucker like you. She would have loved me had you not wanted what was mine.” I hit him again. This time he pops up on two feet. Perfect. I jump up, too, beckoning him

with both hands. He isn’t looking at me, though. He’s looking past me. “Eyes on the champ,” I say to provoke him, wanting a fucking fight that’s actually entertaining. “You took two women and my title when I was the one who protected the mouse, not you —” I fly at him and hit him: one left, one right, and an uppercut. He falls back and hits the ground hard. Then he gives me a smirk, and I see him look past me again. I look back to find he’s looking at Tatiana. I turn back, ready to strike, but he catches my hand. “She’ll never love someone like you. She is sickened by you.” I lay out the truth for him. When I glance back, she isn’t even watching, so I leave the fight and walk over to her. The ref starts talking shit, but I don’t care. “Tell me you are okay with this, with me fighting,” I beg her. She looks down. “Tell me, damn it!” I lift her chin, seeing tears immediately starting to flow. I am too high on the rush and have to remind myself to use control. I kiss her hard. “I love you, little one. Always will. Tell me this is not okay, and I walk.” She doesn’t answer. I can’t stand it. I need to know. Fuck, I need her. Then it becomes clear—I need her, just her. As I pull her against me and kiss her again, she doesn’t fight the kisses, but she sure as fuck won’t answer me or give me those eyes of hers. The bell rings, and the ref really begins flipping his shit. I pull her close, kissing her again, and then I turn to Kid. “Give me my belt.” He looks at me funny, but he hands it to me. I walk into the ring and toss it down at Cobra’s feet. “Not fucking worth it.” “You fucking pussy, Caldwell!” he yells. I hear Totty scream, “No!” right before I feel a hard jab to the side of my head from behind. It rocks me hard. I fall to my knees, and he is on me. The fucker is relentless. He is growling, almost foaming at the mouth, and at first I’ll be damned if I throw a punch. The blow comes to my ribs, then my head, then my ribs again. Pain radiates, but that isn’t what I feel. I feel need, raw, pure need for the woman I love. He pounds away. Then I can’t take it anymore. I dig deep, plant my feet, throw him off me, and stand. When he bounces up and comes at me again, I sweep his feet, and he falls. He falls hard and is out for the count. I am grabbing my shit when the ref comes over with the belt. “This is yours, Caldwell.” “No, man, it’s his. He can have the fucking thing. I don’t need it.” I look at my brothers and Tatiana. “There are some things more important than a fucking win—one is family.” I grab Tatiana’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze, and she squeezes my hand in return. Acceptance.

Chapter 26

Tatiana I didn’t realize how much the fighting really bothered me until Jagger was there with Cobra, who was not fighting back. Watching Jagger hit him while Cobra took it…just took it. I know Cobra did bad things. He told me himself. People can change, though, right? I want to believe in the good. Jagger gave me that. Cobra was nice to me. He may have made mistakes with his ex, and that obviously cost him, but he paid his price. Did he really change, though? Was I part of some game for him with Jagger? The way he came at him after Jagger was giving him the title was a far cry from the taunting man taking the beating in the opening round. It’s all so confusing. Being there made me understand I can’t do it. I can’t watch him pound away at someone for sport. Is this a mistake, wanting him to quit? Should I have said anything? Will he feel the rage and need to take it out on me? Statistics show that women who come from abusive backgrounds seek that out in their mates. Have I done that and not realized it? I have a family now for the first time ever, yet fear grips me. What if things go bad? I would lose Jagger, Hailey, and Livi. I would lose everyone I have grown to care about. I wiggle my toes, the soft fabric of the slippers reminding me I can walk freely around in our home in my treasures. I don’t have to hide from Jagger. He comes in from opening the gym, and I tense. “Totty?” he questions, knowing I usually give him a greeting. My shoulders tighten, and my eyes grow wide in panic as he steps over to me. Squatting where I sit on the now slip-covered couch, he watches me, and I push my back into the couch, wanting space. “Talk to me.” I shake my head, trying to get a handle on myself. “Totty, we’ve gotta communicate. Something has you upset.” He reaches out to touch my face, but I pull back. “I’m scared,” I whisper. He jumps back as if I assaulted him. “Of me?” He pushes his thumb into his chest as he stands up and backs against the wall. I nod. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? What the hell happened from me leaving our bed this

morning, with you soft and moaning for me to stay, to now?” I don’t speak while tears well up in my eyes. “Have I ever given you anything but good touch?” I shake my head. “Have I given you any reason to doubt the man I am, the man I was raised to be?” I shake my head again, tears streaming down my face. “Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Do not cry when I feel like I can’t touch you.” “You fight people,” I choke out the words. “I fought people,” he states. “Past tense. I don’t anymore.” “What if…?” I drop my head in my hands. “What if you, like, need it?” He comes over and drops to his knees in front of me. “Totty,” he says softly. “Look at me please.” Like a child, I spread my fingers apart and peek out at him. Tenderly, he takes my wrists and pulls my hands from my face. “You are all I need. You, Tatiana. Fighting gave me an escape when I was a kid, an escape from an old man who took out his every frustration on my momma. I couldn’t do shit back then, so I did what I could. I trained. I trained, and I fought so that, one day, I wouldn’t have to watch helplessly like I did when I was little while a man took out his aggression on a woman.” Reaching out, I run my thumb along his chiseled jaw. “Good.” “Always good to you, Totty. Don’t fear me. Don’t fear being with me.” I sigh and wiggle my toes against the slippers that have given me comfort for so long. “I’m sorry. I was overthinking and got carried away.” “It’s not gonna be easy coming from where we both came from. We can break the cycle, though. Together, we can become better than the past. Believe in me and believe in us.” Cupping his face in my hands, I pull him to me and kiss him softly. “Don’t fear me. Never me,” he pleads. “Everything good,” I whisper against his lips and kiss him deeply. Firm arms wrap around me, and he takes me to our room, where he shows me just how much he treasures me. With every slow movement, he gives me good. — Two weeks later, I stand back and admire the gray and green kitchen. Hailey and Livi helped me pick the colors while the guys stripped the wallpaper down and prepped the walls for paint. Hailey has spent every spare minute here helping me while Marisa was at preschool. Livi has done what she could without being around the paint fumes. Patiently, Jagger then painted the chevron pattern I picked out. Looking at it now, I am amazed. Livi smiles and giggles. “Why green? Just curious,” Hailey asks as she looks at the ribbon on my wrist. “The first ribbon Jagger gave me was green.” I toy with the fabric. “I use it as shoelaces. Looped them together into a belt once. I wear it in my hair, on my wrist, on my ankle, always

somewhere. Every day from the moment he gave it to me, it’s been with me.” “Jagger never told me his favorite color is green,” Livi says. “Momma Caldwell.” I simply state, and they look to me. “HPV awareness. He gave me a piece of his mom.” I smile proudly. Tears fill Livi’s eyes. “Oh, the hormones.” She snorts and rubs her very big belly. Hailey looks to me and then her. “I’m thinking a green nursery might be nice.” Livi claps her hands together excitedly. “That is perfect. We all can have a green room in our houses for Momma Caldwell.” I smile at them both, and looking to the ceiling, I whisper, “Legacy.” Female excitement is running in the air as the guys come in to see the finished room. Hendrix takes one look at Livi and laughs. “Crazy-ass hormones,” he says, wrapping his arms around his wife. “You know it.” She smiles, and the love consumes me. Hailey looks to Morrison as he walks over. “What’s going on behind those eyes?” he asks her. “We need a green room,” she blurts out. “Little momma, I’ll make a movie with you anytime, but we don’t need a greenroom for that.” She smacks his chest playfully and points to the green on my walls. “Oh, hell, do you know how long my brother spent taping those lines? Every time it wasn’t level, he had to peel it back and start again.” “Green, Morrison, I want the shade of green.” Livi turns to Hendrix. “I picked the nursery color finally.” The Caldwell brothers look at me, all shaking their heads. Jagger stands beside his brothers. “Tatiana, why green?” Hendrix asks. I lift my wrist proudly with the ribbon, and Jagger sweeps me off my feet to lift me to the countertop as he kisses me deeply, not caring who is in the room. When he pulls away, I bite my bottom lip as he stands between my legs. “Legacy,” I whisper, our foreheads resting on one another’s. In our moment, the Caldwell women share with their men the story of the ribbon and the meaning in the green. “Damn, baby Caldwell. Outdoing us all, little bro,” Morrison says, kissing Hailey’s temple. “Nope, not outdoing, just doing. We made a promise to Momma, but I think Momma watched over us. She gave us what we needed to keep her with us, even though she’s gone. Each of our women are a little bit of Momma.” Tears fill my eyes as Hailey wipes her own. “Hormones!” Livi wails before sobbing against Hendrix. “Fuck,” Hendrix groans. “Killing me with the tears.” “You did good, baby Caldwell. Gonna take my woman home and do her good now,” Morrison slaps Jagger on the back as Hailey gasps.

They head out with Hendrix and Livi following. I’m alone with my man in our home, a place that, little bit by little bit, is becoming more and more a real home every day. I wiggle my toes in my slippers as Jagger sets me down from the counter. “You happy, little one?” I nod. “How much DIY stuff did you search today?” he jokes. I may have gotten a little carried away with my time on the computer lately, but it was all with our home in mind. “Well…” I bite my bottom lip. “Totty, we agreed to save your money. You could go to school with that if you want. Plus, we gave Old Lady Simmons the money to get her paperwork and update her apartment. The gym does well, but I gotta split that with Kid, and I’m not fighting anymore.” Panic hits me. “Do you regret it?” My mind wonders if I will be enough to replace what he’s giving up. “Not fighting anymore?” I nod. “Fuck no. I love having all my time with you and being able to make something more out of the gym. I don’t need that escape anymore. I don’t need to block out my life. With you, I want to be here, living every moment, not trying to run from it.” “But the money?” “We’re set. Well, unless you have some crazy new project I don’t know about, we are fine.” I suck in air. There is a project. How does he just seem to read me? “Tatiana, what did you do?” He eyes me curiously. “It didn’t cost that much.” He looks around the house, and I know he sees nothing out of place. We have redone the master so it doesn’t remind him of Shaw at every turn. It is a perfect blend of Jagger’s hardness and my femininity. His masculinity is present in the dark wood flooring and gray walls, but the bedding is all the new me in vibrant red against our black furniture. Taking him by the hand, I lead him to the guest bedroom. I told him we would do it last when, really, I wanted to surprise him. The walls are now painted Egyptian blue. The queen bed that was in here has been moved to our bedroom and replaced with a quaint daybed. The wrought iron stands out nicely against the blue walls. The pillow on the bed is my first completed sewing project; I stuffed his shorts from the final fight. It isn’t the softest thing, but as Livi says, it’s a conversation piece. Jagger steps in behind me and stills as he looks to the wall over the dresser. “Momma and Shaw.” I have framed a picture of his mother and her boys on one side of his champion belt and on the other is a picture of Shaw with him when he first started training. The belt was a little tricky to get back, but Kid helped me out. Using a website, I ordered stickers for the wall to

say My Champion in script. I put those above the pictures with the statement Always the Good below. Beside the dresser, I placed a quilt rack and draped Shaw’s old quilt on it. Jagger told me of Shaw’s wife making this for them so many years ago. It was a gift to him on their forty-fifth wedding anniversary before she passed away. It is a true treasure. I can only hope we have that and many more years together. As he steps inside the room and looks to the wall beside the door, he finds framed pictures of each of his brothers with their families: Hendrix with his arm around Livi, who is looking down happily at Floyd, their dog; Morrison and Hailey holding Marisa between them; Kid and Jagger together at the gym; and a candid shot Livi took of the two of us when we started the remodel and were both pulling down the first piece of wallpaper. “What is this?” he asks, looking around the room before landing his gaze on me. “You give me good, Jagger. More than that, you give to others. You have been there for your brothers, your mother, Shaw, Kid, and me. You are the good, Jagger. You are her legacy and so much more. I wanted you to see and never forget.” He doesn’t speak. He turns and kisses me, and my heart swells. He is always giving me more good than I ever imagined possible.

Chapter 27

Jagger I pull into the bar, where Totty isn’t expecting me yet. I like it like that. I like to surprise my prey once in a while. She and the girls have gotten close, and she likes to help out on Fridays, preparing for the dinner crowd. With the best prime rib in town, the place always ends up wall to wall. I walk in, seeing her laughing and talking to Jared. She’s wearing a Caldwell’s T-shirt and jeans. Her hair is pulled back with my green ribbon—yes, all mine. She smiles at Jared, fucker is beaming, and I know he isn’t fucked up yet. It’s only four o’clock. I slide in the seat next to him. She smiles and licks her lips. “Hi, there.” She leans forward, and I give her a kiss. “A man should marry a woman he thinks he can kiss like that in—” I kick him under the bar. “What the hell?” I scowl at him, then look back at Totty. “You think you can give me a minute?” “Of course. Be right back, gotta get one of the girls to cover—” “Your sisters, Totty,” I interrupt. She beams—fucking beams—and nods. “Be right back.” Jared looks at me, setting down his draft. “I’m available.” I stand up and pat him on the back. “You’re not my type.” “Smartass,” I hear him say as I walk over to the door that leads to the bar. “You know what I mean.” Totty walks out from behind the bar, and I take her hand. Then I lead her up the stairs and back to the only room that remains from the old apartment we were raised in. I sit down in Momma’s old rocker and pat my lap. “Come here, Totty.” She looks at me with a little confusion in her eyes as she sits down. “This was the apartment I was raised in,” I explain to her. “Hendrix tore it up when he kicked my old man to the curb, yet kept this back corner room. This is where she would tuck us away when the old man came home drunk.” “I’m so sorry,” she says, hugging me. “Shit happens, Tatiana. Happiness should be a birthright, but it isn’t always. Some of us are dealt blow after blow and manage to stay off the ground. Both of our mothers—yours and mine—gave us life and protected us the best they could. After seeing those pictures of you as a baby being held by a woman who smiled while holding you, I have no doubt you were the

only light in her life, just like me and my brothers were Momma’s.” “You think so?” “No doubt in my mind.” “I love you.” I kiss the side of her head. “And I love hearing you say that. More than that, I love saying it to you. I love you so damn much, little one. It’s been over seven months since I saw you in a corner, bracing for the next blow. For seven months, there has been a need to protect you. It just took me a little time to realize it was more than that. I not only want to protect you, I also want to be a better man for you, an honest man, your man.” “You are. You are so good, Jagger, so, so good.” Her arms tighten around me. “I know, with you in my life, I will never be that girl cowering in the corner again. I know now my life is worth fighting for.” “You bet your ass it is.” I tilt her chin up and kiss her, my tongue slowly stroking hers, caressing every part of it, savoring her taste. I could easily get lost in this, take more, give her more, but right now, I want to give her everything, not just more. I pull back before I am too far over the edge. With her, it’s often too hard to pull back. “You and me, we weren’t gifted the right to be happy from birth. We both had to fight. Your fight was to stay alive, tucked away in the corner. My fight was coming out of the corner, releasing the rage that was inside of me in order to survive. Two different fights, two separate corners. The outcome is the same, though, Totty. “My Totty, you and I are in this together. We aren’t alone anymore. I am in your corner, and you are in mine. Separately, we have struggled for our happiness, but little one, our struggles are over.” I dig in my pocket to find the little ribbon and pull it out, keeping it fisted in my hand. “I’m better because of you. I will continue to do and want better because of you. I promise you that you will never be tucked in a corner alone, struggling to survive. I will be in your corner for the rest of your life if you will be in mine.” “You know I will.” She looks down, her hand going to the ribbon in her hair. I gently tug her hair back so we are eye to eye. “Promise me, then?” “Of course.” I hold up the ribbon. It’s from the same place as the first one I gave her all those months ago. “I wanna give you this.” I let the ribbon dangle out of my still-closed hand. She smiles like I’m giving her the fucking moon. “Thank you.” She tugs on it, and I let go. “Oh my goodness.” “For the rest of our lives?” “Are you…are you…?” I take the diamond ring and nod. “Tatiana Rand, will you give me the honor and the privilege of being in your corner to protect and love you forever?” Her hand covers her mouth, tears begin to spill, and she nods her head. “Will you, my beautiful little one, marry me?”

“Today?” I laugh. “If that’s what you want.” “It can’t be soon enough. Oh, Jagger, yes!” She kisses me. “Yes, yes, yes!” I laugh as I push the ring onto her little finger and then kiss it. She laughs, too, and jumps up. She gasps and covers her mouth. Then the damn tears fall again while she starts laughing again. “I’m gonna be a Caldwell?” I can’t help laughing at that, too. “Yeah, Totty, you are.” She hugs me and looks up. “I am going to love you so hard when we get home.” “I know you will,” I groan out, bending down to my fiancée’s lips. She pulls back. “But first, I need to tell them. I need to tell my sisters that I am going to really be part of this family.” She is beaming, smiling, and so anxious to tell them, she is nearly jumping out of her skin. She’s itching to run down those stairs. I feel a slight tinge of jealousy…Hey, nobody’s fucking perfect. “You go tell them,” I say. “We.” She grabs my hand. “We do it together.” “Perfect.” I smirk before becoming more serious. “Then we get out of here so I can fuck you hard at home.” “Good touch.” “Really fucking good touch, little one.” She moans and smiles. “I would go through all that hell again, all those times in the corner alone and afraid, if I knew I would end up with you.” “Nobody will ever force you into a fucking corner again. You are not alone.” — For the next two weeks, I hardly see her unless I’m inside her. The four of them—Livi Caldwell, Hailey Caldwell, Marisa Caldwell, and Tatiana Rand…soon-to-be Caldwell—spend every day on that damn computer, scouring the Internet for DIY projects as they—yes, they— plan for the day I will call her mine legally, not just mine in my heart.

Chapter 28

Tatiana Really, I never imagined my life could go from having no one to having a family, a real extended family. I am going to be a Caldwell! I am going to be part of a family, one I love. We girls, my sisters and I along with my soon-to-be niece, have spent countless hours finding the cutest, most cost-effective DIY wedding favors, decorations, and even accessories. As I’m putting away my laptop after another fun time with the girls, there is a knock at the door. I don’t think as I open it, expecting it to be Livi needing to pee. However, the person standing in front of me is not Olivia Caldwell. “Jason,” I say as the shock wears off. He smiles. “Mouse.” I step back out of habit and realize that was the wrong move when he takes the gesture as his invitation to enter our home, my home with Jagger. “You know, we were friends once,” he begins, and I am not sure if he is referring to him and me or him and Jagger. I swallow hard. “Me and Caldwell,” he clarifies. “A long time ago, I came to train with Shaw, but I wasn’t on the up and up about who I was, so I got sent packin’. Your man is big on honesty.” Fear builds up in me. “Why are you telling me this? Why are you here?” “Caldwell, he’s good. I hate that fact, but he is. Missy ran to him, ran right to him every fucking time.” “What do you mean every time?” He steps toward me and I hold my hand up. “She brings out a rage in me. You know, like your old man. She wouldn’t stop nagging, wouldn’t stop pushing me. I snapped. I’m ashamed to say more than once. She ran to him, but she always came back. We made up, and then she would compare me to him and set me off again. Where did she run again? Right to Caldwell. Why couldn’t she run to me? Why couldn’t you run to me?” “You’re my friend. We’re just friends. I don’t see you like that.” My voice cracks. “You scare me, Jason.” He steps back. “See? Honesty. You don’t push the limits. You know what I did for you. You know you are my redemption. I made you safe, not Caldwell.” He reaches out, and I use my forearm to block. Shifting my weight naturally, I prepare to defend myself. “I could lose everything. All for you, and yet, you run to him. I risked it all for you.” He is calm, way too calm. “I didn’t ask you for anything.”

“I saw the marks. I saw the interest Jagger had in you, always the savior. It was me this time, Mouse. I saved you.” I shake my head. What is he saying? This can’t be. “He was drunk. It was fast, and it was easy. I kept you from your future with him.” “Why would I leave a past like that to a future of the same?” I yell at him. Now I’m angry. His eyes grow wide at my statement. “You said you lose control. Whether you mean to or not, you are dangerous.” I fight to remain strong. He will not break me. No matter how scared I get, I will not cower in the corner. Jagger gave me this. “I am,” he whispers, and I prepare, sensing the change in him. “You know what they say… You’re a product of your upbringing. Caldwell is no better than me. Sure, I grew up with the silver spoon, while he grew up in the slums, but we are cut from the same mold: two young boys with fathers who wanted to make men out of us, teaching us lessons in life one blow at a time. Jagger will snap one day. What then, Mouse? At least with me, you know what you get.” He taunts and I see red. Rage hits me square in the gut. “How dare you! Jagger will not snap. He is not his father’s son. He’s his mother’s legacy. He takes care of me and loves me. He would die before he brought me sadness or harm. “You rid the world of a monster, but that doesn’t protect me. I was on my way out, anyway. Get your head on straight, Cobra. Stop looking to strike first and just learn to control the beast within. Not everything is a fight. Love shouldn’t hurt. When you find the right girl, she will push you, push you to be better.” He eyes me, studying me. “You make Caldwell better. He gave up the circuit for you. Shaw couldn’t get him to do that. You make him better. You love him?” “With every ounce of my being.” I stand firm. “Be happy, little mouse.” With those last words, he leaves. I let out the breath I was holding, relief filling me as I shut and lock the door behind him. For a moment, I was worried things would get bad. “I am happy,” I say to the air around me. Sitting on the couch, I take in everything he said. Mixed emotions take over. He killed my father. That is wrong. That makes him dangerous. I gasp as tears pool in my eyes. I shouldn’t feel loss, should I? He was here, looking for gratitude. I should be grateful, shouldn’t I? This isn’t how life should be. This isn’t how friendship should be. What a cycle: my father kills my mother, accidentally or not; my “friend” kills my father. Who will kill Cobra? If he doesn’t fix his life, something bad will happen. My father died because of me. Guilt fills me at that thought, and I don’t like the taste it leaves in my mouth. He didn’t deserve to die, did he? Am I thankful to have the escape, though? Yes. I go back in my mind to the night I left. He could have killed me many times over the years. One more hit to the head, a fall the wrong way, my ribs moving after he broke them, internal damage. There are so many ways over the years I could have ended up just like my mother.

Only, I didn’t. Blow after blow, I survived, exactly like Jagger. Cobra survived his childhood, too. He just can’t see that he needs to be the change. I can’t give him that. He has to choose to break the cycle. I chose the night I left my father. I chose to live free from the fear. I chose to break my cycle, and Cobra has to do it for himself. I look up when there is a noise at the door to find Jagger coming in, and I wipe the tears from my eyes. “Totty?” “Cobra was here,” I answer without thinking. Jagger rushes over, dropping to his knees in front of me. “I’ll fuckin’—” “Nothing, Jagger. You’ll do nothing. He came to make sure I am happy. He admitted it, though. No beating around the bush, he did it.” Jagger kisses my forehead in response. “He did it for me,” I say solemnly. “Did he touch you?” “Yes, but I blocked him.” “I’ll fuckin’—” He jumps up, and I reach out to stop him. “Not like that. No, no, no. He tried to touch my face, but I was panicked because I wasn’t expecting him, so I used my forearm to block him like you taught me.” I smile proudly, and Jagger relaxes. I give him the rundown of what happened with Cobra. Afterward, we are both left wondering what to do next. “We need to call Johnny. We need to tell him,” Jagger finally says. Knowing how good-to-the-bone honest he is, I understand. “I know, but Jagger, I feel like it’s my fault. He will lose any chance to change because he was trying in a twisted way to do something good.” “There is no good inside him.” “Maybe not, but he tried.” Jagger’s face doesn’t hide his frustration with me. “You look at everything so differently.” “Is that a bad thing?” I ask. “Yes.” He shakes his head. “No.” He laughs. “You make me look at everything differently.” “I need closure, Jagger.” He eyes me. “I need to know Johnny won’t keep pushing this. In the end, he fell down the stairs. That may or may not have happened without Cobra.” He puts his hands on his hips. “Totty—” “Jagger, I want to move on with life—my life with you. I want the past to be the past and leave it behind. None of that needs to be hanging over us as we start our future.” “Whatever you need, baby.” I can tell this is hard for him. He has a natural instinct to protect what is his. I am his. I stand and roll up on my tiptoes to kiss him.

“I need good touch. I need my man. I need you,” I whisper against his lips. “You’ve got me, baby.” He scoops me up and takes me to our room, giving me exactly what I need before he takes me to see Johnny. — It isn’t easy at the station, and Johnny wants to question things further. Jagger already told me he wants us to tell him who we think did it. We decided we want to leave it alone. “You know me, and you know my family, Johnny. When I say we wanna put this behind us, you know I mean it.” “Caldwell, I do know you, and I know there is more to this. I also know you know more than you’re telling me,” Johnny presses. “I need closure. I don’t care who did it, Mr. Adkins. My future isn’t going to be tied to my past. Let this be done so I can move on. Wrongs were done by his hands, you know this. Wrongs don’t need to drag on now that he’s gone,” I plead. “A drunk took a tumble. It happens all the time,” Jagger says smoothly. “And you’re a fuckin’ astronaut, Caldwell.” Johnny gives a frustrated smile at Jagger. Jagger squeezes me closer. “I’m sitting on top of the world, Johnny Law, so yeah, I’m a motherfuckin’ astronaut.”

Chapter 29

Jagger My brothers and I are standing in the alley beside the bar, not allowed in. The women—our women—a few of our other bar family members, and, of course, Jared are inside setting up. “You nervous?” Morrison asks. I shake my head. “Just want to see her, that’s all.” “Think she’ll try to run?” Hendrix laughs. “She could try, but I’d catch her, and she knows it.” I tug at the stupid necktie that seems too tight. “Feeling caged?” Morrison laughs. “No, motherfucker. I hate these damn suits. You, pretty boy, are the one who likes this shit.” “It’s because suits love me,” he says, straightening his tie. “I make ’em look better.” “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Hendrix huffs. I follow his eyes to see the old man with some new bitch on his arm. If I didn’t hate the bastard, I would admit he looks better than he ever did. “Hello, boys,” he greets as he approaches. “This is Maxine. Maxine, these are my sons.” We all look at her and nod. She is older than him, though it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone who didn’t know the fucker. Alcohol aged him. My guess is there are a good ten, maybe fifteen, years between them. “It’s nice to meet you all.” She smiles shyly. “I have heard so much about you.” “All good things, I assume.” I kind of laugh. “I’m proud of my boys,” Dad says as his chest pops out. Fucker is peacocking, and I have no idea why. “Always have been, right, old man?” Hendrix says, glaring at him. “Well, maybe not always.” He chuckles nervously. When none of us say or do shit, he gives her a kiss on the cheek, and I want to puke and punch the fucker at the same time. “Just got back from Vegas.” His eyebrow threatens to rise up, but he is on his best fucking behavior, sneaky old dog. I wonder what he’s done now. “Just wanted to stop by and let you know I am moving to Santa Barbara with Maxine, and we took care of the problem in Vegas.” “The problem, you fu—” Hendrix reaches out and takes my shoulder, stopping me.

“That’s good. Glad to hear it. You two have a great life,” Hendrix says. This Maxine chick hasn’t a clue what she’s getting into. It’s not fair. “We both lost our true loves last year. It’s a blessing to have a second chance,” she says, gazing up at him. “A new beginning.” “Maxine, you will let us know if you need anything,” my voice booms, and she looks up at me. “I appreciate that. Maybe you three could come visit for the holidays?” Before I can say hell will freeze over first, the old man pipes in. “We’ll be late for our flight.” “Right. We hope you understand we’ll have to miss your big day, Morrison,” she says, looking at me. “Our flights were scheduled before we knew, and we leave for a cruise—” “Then you better hurry along,” Morrison, the real fucking Morrison, scoots them along. They cross the street where the old man opens the fucking passenger door to her Cadillac, says something to her, and then jogs back across the street toward us. “I took care of the problem in Vegas,” he says. “It was your problem, so you should have taken care of it,” I spit. “Did you or did she?” Morrison points across the street. “You boys could have helped me out.” “And put my family in jeopardy? You’re outta your damn mind, old man,” Morrison snaps. “I have a chance at a fresh start,” he says, running his hand through his thinning, dark-gray hair. “You don’t deserve that shit, old man. Momma, she deserved that. She fucking deserved—” “More than I gave her,” he admits, looking down. “That epiphany is a little late,” Hendrix snarls. “I stopped drinking.” He peers back up. “Again?” Morrison huffs. “Thirty-four days sober,” he says with more conviction than I have ever seen in him. If I wasn’t leaning against the wall, I would fall over. “I don’t know what you want from us. What you expect.” “I would like forgiveness.” Before I can say shit, Livi opens the door. “The rest of your life starts now.” Her words hit me, and the thought of the woman I am about to make my wife, the one I will love and protect always, hits me harder. I take in a few deep breaths and look at my brothers, then back at him. After all we have been through in the past few days—not turning Cobra in—Totty thinks it’s because of friendship, but she knows I believe he will get what’s coming to him. Forgiveness seems to be a working theme. “You have mine. Forgiveness. But I…” I pause. “We will never forget what you put her through, what you put us through. We will never forget. Not ever.” He nods and looks at Morrison.

“If you touch her, that Maxine lady, I’ll hit back this time. You got it?” The old man nods once. “Not that I give a fuck about the old bat, but touch her and you’re done. I won’t walk away,” Hendrix adds. “Thank you,” he says, and I swear I can see a tear form in his old, dead, soulless eyes. “Maybe you three and your wives can come visit?” “We forgave you. Don’t fucking push your luck, old man,” I say as I open the door wider. “Let’s go.” The three of us follow Livi in without a look back. I see green, the same color as that ribbon I gave her, now eight months ago, everywhere: paper lanterns, silk flowers, and tiny little ribbons. I swallow back all sorts of fucking emotions. I look at my brothers, who are doing the same. “She’s here with us.” They nod, both expressions mirroring what I feel inside. “Damn it,” I groan and shake my head. I look up to see Jared standing on the dance floor, smiling. I shake my head and look at my brothers. “Fucker loves this shit.” Morrison smirks. “I bet she’s smiling down about that, too.” “No doubt.” Hendrix sighs. “Go, baby C. Let’s get this show on the road.” Standing next to Jared, I look up when the music starts, and I nearly lose it. The words are haunting and beautiful as Jewel sings “Life Uncommon.” Don’t worry, Mother, it’ll be alright. My sisters walk down the stairs, wearing the same green color in all different styles, all of them crying, even Marisa, who says, “Mommy, why are we crying?” “We are so, so happy,” Hailey says and hugs her in the middle of the stairs. “Okay, Mommy, okay.” I squat down. “Come here, Ris Priss.” She runs to me, and I hug her. “We’re all good.” “Okay.” She hugs me around the neck and squeezes. “Come on, Little Chick,” Morrison says, taking her out of my arms. “Uncle Jagger has something he needs to do.” “Marry Totty. Make her my aunt.” “Right on.” He holds up his fist, and she gives him a fist bump as they walk away. I look up to see she still isn’t coming down, so I look at the girls, who smile at me. I start to walk toward the bottom of the stairs, but Hendrix stops me. “Livi says you’ve gotta wait.” “Bullshit. Something’s wrong.” “Nothing’s wrong.” Livi smiles. “Everything is perfect.” She takes my hand. “Wait for it.” “Wait for what?” I ask, trying not to sound like too much of an asshole. The song stops and another one starts. “That’s my girl.” I laugh as she comes out. “Fucking beautiful.” She is in a long white gown that has a high waist and isn’t lacy or poufy. It flows over every

delicious curve of my little one’s body. Her hair is in a loose braid, entwined in a green ribbon, another tied in a bow at the bottom. “We Are the Champions” is playing through the surround sound, and my girl is smiling. There is nothing but happiness and love in her eyes, and I’m feeling the same. When she is standing on the last step, almost eye to eye with me, I wrap my arms around her and lift her until she is. “Fucking beautiful.” Her hands cup my face and she kisses me. “More handsome every time I look at you.” I lean in to kiss her and hear Jared clear his throat over the mic. “Strict orders from Jared,” she tells me. “No kiss till we’ve hashed it all out up there in the ring.” “Is that so?” “As much as I want to, I promised.” She sticks her bottom lip out and gives me the sexiest little pouty face. “We can play by his rule for now, Totty, but remind me, who wins the fight?” “You do.” “Why’s that?” “ ’Cause you’re the champion.” “You bet your ass I am.” I carry her to the dance floor as she giggles. Sweetest sound in the world. I set her down and then give Jared a nod. He looks at the crowd and nods. A bell rings, and I look out to see Kid smiling. I think it’s a smile, anyway. “In this corner, we have Totty the Hottie.” Jared raises her arm, and she laughs. “We need to make this quick. She’s a Russian, possibly KGB. I haven’t figured it out yet. I mean, why the hell would she marry him”—he points to me—“if she wasn’t a spy or trying to get a green card?” Everyone laughs. “In this corner, we have Jagger ‘The Hitmaker’ Caldwell.” The room cheers, and I can’t help laughing. “Or should I say Hit-taker? The champion gave up his need to hit on all the women in town quite a few months back. I was sure he was switching teams. I mean, he was looking at me funny.” “No switch-hitter here, man.” “That’s too bad. I had a new boxing name for you if you did come out.” “Oh yeah?” I chuckle. “Fruit Punch,” he says serious as shit, and everyone laughs. “Shit’s not supposed to be funny,” I say, looking at the crowd and trying not to laugh. “Well, then I’m not gonna be very entertaining. I’m not all that politically correct.” Jared smirks. “Let me ask you, Totty, what does a boxer and a beer bottle have in common?”

She thinks for a minute. “Size and shape?” My jaw drops, and everyone laughs. “What? He’s big.” “Lucky girl!” someone yells. “Well, I was gonna say they’re empty from the neck up, but good to know.” He reaches behind him and rubs his ass. “Glad you’re not after me. I’d have to ask Livi to have some of those panties made up to say Do Not Enter.” “What the fuck do you know about my girl’s panties?” Hendrix barks a laugh. “She gives them to everyone.” “Shit’s not funny,” I say, expecting Hendrix to freak. “Said she handed your girl some.” I laugh and so does Totty. “She did,” Tatiana admits. “I’ll show you the new ones later.” “That’s expected.” I wink at her as I reach for her hand. Jared steps between us. “Corners.” I lift my hands and step back. “My bad, man.” “Knock, knock,” Jared says. The crowd replies, “Who’s there?” “Russia.” “Russia who?” they say. “They’re not Russian to get married. From what I understand, he has been Russian for her to turn eighteen for months now.” Everyone laughs while Totty smiles and blushes. I wink. “It’s true, little one.” “Jagger, you better keep it up at the gym. From what I hear, she’s fast. She’s Russian.” “Lame, man.” I chuckle. “Real lame.” He turns to Totty. “I want you to promise me something.” She nods. “If you think he’s nibbling too hard on your ear, push him away and remind him he’s not Mike Tyson. You wanna keep those ears, Totty.” “Hurry it up, Jared.” I laugh. “I want to put an end to the Cold War.” He looks at me blankly. “I’m the funny one here.” “Of course.” I wink. “Stop winking at me, Fruit Punch,” he says, causing the whole room to erupt in laughter. When they quiet down, he looks at Totty. “You sure you wanna marry this kid? He’s all muscles and ink.” She grins. “He’s beautiful outside, but his inside is even more so. Yes. Yes, I want to marry him.” He nods, then looks at me. “Honor and protect, never overshadow, beside and not behind.” I nod. “You wanna marry Hottie Totty?”

“Sure do, and I want you to quit saying that. It implies you’ve been checking out what’s mine, and that pisses—” “Jagger.” Totty giggles. “Totty.” “You wanna marry me?” she asks sweetly. “Yeah, little one, I wanna marry you.” “Perfect.” Jared looks at the crowd, the bell rings, and he takes both of our hands and brings them together. “All right, even though Totty here isn’t of legal age, I want us all to raise a glass.” I see him lift a bottle of vodka. “I’m a beer and whiskey guy, but for today, to make our little Russian spy feel welcome, we raise a glass of vodka.” The bartenders pass out the glasses. I take a step toward my girl and wrap her in my arms. “Kiss your bride, Caldwell,” he says. I lift her up, and I do just that. Her lips part, my tongue enters her mouth, and I hear Jared announce us. “I give you, Mr. and Mrs. Jagger Caldwell.” As we continue the kiss, the song starts up again. She pulls back. “We are, you know?” “Yeah, we sure are. I love you, Mrs. Caldwell.” She holds my face and kisses me harder before pulling back. “I want a lot more of that.” “Good.” She wiggles out of my hands. “Take me home now, please.” I am instantly hard. “But—” “We’ll come back. I need you to take me home. Now.” — “Pull over here,” she moans, my hand already between her legs. I slip a finger under her panties and into the warmth between the hottest little legs I have ever been between. “Why not the driveway, little—?” “Here!” she cries out as her pussy clenches my finger. “Oh God.” I pull over, hitting the curb without giving a shit. I want to fuck my wife so badly right now. I throw the car in park and turn to her. I curl my finger as I shove another one inside just like she likes it—hard. She grabs the oh-shit handles and cries out, “Oh God,” again. “Come for me, Mrs. Caldwell.” I grab the back of her head, pull her to me, and kiss her. I use my thumb to tease her clit, give it a good tap, and she falls apart in my hand. “Fuck, so sexy.” I let go of her head, pull my hand away, and lick my fingers as I get out and run around to open her door. She steps out and grabs my shoulder. “Give me a second.” “Not sure I can, little one. I need in,” I say honestly.

She hugs me. “I have a surprise.” “Cannot fucking wait,” I groan, lifting her up and starting to walk. “Stop,” she says breathlessly and wiggles away. “Totty.” I grab her hand and hold it against my cock. “I need in.” She takes my chin and lifts it. “Look.” I look up and see a sign above the gym. CALDWELL’S LEGACY . “You did this for me?” She nods. “Thank you.” I get choked up. “Thank you so much, Tatiana Caldwell. What the hell did I do to deserve you?” “I ask myself the same thing every day.” “God, I love you so much.” I kiss her hard. When we both need a breath, I pull back, leaving my forehead against hers. “Good touch, little one, good touch.”

Epilogue

Tatiana Struggles come to everyone. No one is immune. The power to believe lies within us all. Blow after blow, no matter what life hands me, I will keep on fighting. I will fight for me, for him, and for us. I will believe in us. I will have hope that the future will be better than the past. Dear Momma, Today I married my very best friend. He is the man who has seen me at my worst and loved me from the bottom to the top. We found a box awhile back, but I wasn’t ready to go through it for a long time. I’m glad I finally did. My whole life, I always wondered what you looked like, what you smelled like, and, most of all, if you ever knew happiness. Whatever happened to my father to make him the man he was had to be harsh, but he was weak. Jagger has shown me the strength of a man who is willing to overcome his past demons and fight to be better than where he came from. Holding my hand and giving me strength, he showed me how to fight my way out. The pictures give me peace. I can see in your eyes—my eyes—the love you had for me. I can’t imagine you had much happiness in your life, but in me, you found a light. In me, Momma, you will have your happiness. I promise to you today to be your legacy. I promise to give my children the life you couldn’t give to me. When the day comes that I have a dark-haired daughter of my own, I promise to tell her about you. I promise to tell her about the woman who gave me life, the woman who smiled at every moment with me. We may not have had the time and the memories together, but I know I had your love. I promise to teach my sons to be men you would be proud of, to be men to honor and cherish their women and carry the Caldwell name on in the traditions of good. I promise to teach my daughters to fight against bad touch, to know healthy touch, and to embrace good touch. I promise to guard them from the past so that the cycle will end here with me and my family. What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger…and I am strong.

I promise not to be defined by what happened to me. I promise not to become what I came from. I promise to beat back the fear and the rage and to be better than him. I promise to be better than before for you and for me. I’m sorry for all you endured, Momma. I’m sorry for all you lost, all we lost. Most of all, I’m sorry for the pain you felt. I hope you have peace now. I hope you don’t hurt. I hope you know I have found a safe place, and I hurt no more. I read once that there is no greater love than that of a mother to a child. Thank you, Momma, for loving me enough to fight for me…until the end. Today I walk away from the past and embrace the future. Today I hope you rest in peace, Momma. All my dreams and all my wishes have come true. With love to the one who gave me life, Tatiana Caldwell

To all the women who were raised by an iron fist, where the blows knock you down so far you don’t think you can get up. To those who were born into a life far from a fairy tale, a life where you don’t think you could handle another round. To all the women who unknowingly chose a man thinking he would give them a better life than they had ever known before, but still feel knocked down. The bell can ring, the cycle can be broken, but it has to start with your decision to put one foot in front of the other and for once in your life make the choice to truly live. In order to find love, you must first love yourself. You can start new. Fight a new fight… A fight for you.

BY MJ FIELDS AND CHELSEA CAMARON Caldwell Brothers Hendrix Morrison Jagger

About the Authors USA Today bestselling author MJ FIELDS’s love of writing was in full swing by age eight. Together with her cousins, she wrote a newsletter and sold it for ten cents to family members. Her writing has changed a bit. Instead of updating the Fields family, she writes highly emotional and steamy romance novels. Her stories are full of authentic, raw, and gritty alpha male characters and the women they fall for. There always seems to be humor and a strong focus on family intertwined. MJ self-published her first contemporary romance in January 2013. Today she has completed six self-published series: The Love Series, The Wrapped Series, The Burning Souls Series, The Men of Steel Series, Ties of Steel Series, and The Norfolk Series. Rockers of Steel Book 1, Memphis Black, Book 2, Finn Beckett, and Book 3, River James, are available now. MJ is a hybrid author who publishes an indie book almost every month and is signed with traditional publisher Penguin Random House’s Loveswept imprint for her co-written series The Caldwell Brothers. MJ lives in central New York, surrounded by family and friends. Her house is full of pets, friends, and noise ninety percent of the time, and she would have it no other way. Want more from MJ Fields? Sign up to receive newsletters, sneak peeks, special sales, giveaways, and new release information from MJ Fields’s website, straight to your inbox. mjfieldsbooks.com tsu.co/mjfields Facebook.com/MJFieldsBooks @mjfieldsbooks Instagram.com/mjfieldsbooks Pinterest.com/mjfieldsbooks Tumblr.com/mjfieldsbooks

CHELSEA CAMARON was born and raised in coastal North Carolina. She currently resides in Louisiana with her husband and two children, but her heart is forever Carolina daydreaming. Chelsea always wanted to be a writer, but like most of us, she let fear of the unknown grab ahold of her dream. But one day she realized that if she was ever going to tell her daughter to go for her dreams, it was time to follow her own advice. Chelsea grew up turning wrenches alongside her father, and from that grew her love for old muscle cars and Harley-Davidson motorcycles, which in turn inspired her series, Love and Repair and The Hellions Ride. Her lifelong love for reading sparked a love for writing, and she

currently has multiple projects in the works. When she is not spending her days writing, you can find her playing with her kids, attending car shows, going on motorcycle rides on the back of her husband’s Harley, snuggling down with her new favorite book, or watching any movie that Vin Diesel might happen to be in. authorchelseacamaron.com Facebook.com/authorchelseacamaron @chelseacamaron Instagram/chelseacamaron

The Editor’s Corner April is a promise of spring and Loveswept romance is here to warm things up. L. P. Dover continues her edgy, emotionally gripping Second Chances series with the story of a beautiful widow who can’t resist a chiseled NFL player in Catching Summer. The Society of Gentlemen series from K. J. Charles continues with the sizzling A Gentleman’s Position. For a new series, ladies, meet Micah, a man who takes what he wants—until he meets the one woman he needs in Stacey Kennedy’s Bound Beneath His Pain. An epic love affair steals the show in Stina Lindenblatt’s This One Moment. Annie Rains continues her small-town Hero’s Welcome series with a cowboy turned marine in Welcome Home, Cowboy. Gillian Archer is hot on the trend of MC romance, introducing her True Brothers series with Ruthless. And MC Sons of Odin returns with Violetta Rand’s irresistible novel about a sexy-as-sin biker who tempts a good girl to go bad, Possession. Off the Hook from USA Today bestselling author Laura Drewry is the first in her Fishing for Trouble series featuring three unforgettable brothers—each of whom is a great catch. Then the swoon-worthy McKinney Brothers series from New York Times bestselling author Claudia Connor continues with J.T. in Worth It All. USA Today bestselling author Alexis Morgan kicks off her new Sergeant Joe’s Boys series with Always for You: Jack, where a foster son learns about love and life in record time. And the new Fireside series tells a story of an old love reunited in His to Love from new Loveswept author, Stacey Lynn. USA Today bestselling writing duo M. J. Fields and Chelsea Camaron are back with the Caldwell brothers in Jagger, which is not only full of swagger and sensuality but also packs an emotional punch as the last bachelor standing fights for a woman who’s worth every ounce of trouble. And yet another Aces Hockey romance from Kelly Jamieson releases this month featuring pro hockey hunk Duncan in Icing. There’s also something naughty for you from New York Times bestselling author Jen McLaughlin in Lust Is the Thorn where a soon-to-be ordained priest has to decide who he loves more. Then prepare yourself for razor-sharp suspense from New York Times bestselling author Patricia Rosemoor with His Deception. Two words for you: secret bodyguard. And for fans of the hit TV show Empire, Lisa Marie Perry’s Sin for Me kicks off the sizzling Devil’s Music series. Friend Loveswept and let the romance begin! Until next month—Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel Associate Publisher

Read on for an excerpt from

Possession Sons of Odin

by Violetta Rand

Available from Loveswept

Chapter 1 FIVE MONTHS LATER… Tina killed the ignition on her Escalade, staring across the street at the entrance to Tito’s, her favorite downtown club. Unaccustomed to partying alone, she’d already visited two other hot spots before finding herself here. Fall vacations were encouraged in her law office; for some reason caseloads eased up between October and December. Blame it on the holiday season. Even her favorite coworkers, Alicia and Max, were in the Bahamas together. In the mood for a girl’s night out, she ventured out alone. Truth be told, she missed Lily, who had disappeared on a belated honeymoon. Three weeks —that’s how long it had been since they’d talked on the phone. Oh, she received the occasional text message or caught updates on Facebook. But it would be another month before Lily returned from Paris. To be fair, Tina had been invited to France. Not wanting to be the third wheel, she declined, using work as an excuse. Get over it, Tina thought as she slid out of her SUV, her five-inch stilettos hitting gravel. Change made Tina uncomfortable—blame it on her upbringing. She clicked across the street, her mid-thigh-length skirt blowing up in the fall wind. She smoothed it down as she approached the entrance, where a doorman perched on a barstool just outside the glass doors waited to card whoever wanted to go inside. “Tina,” Chris said. “Alone tonight?” Pleased to see a familiar face, she smiled. “I’m bored.” “You alone on a Friday?” He didn’t sound convinced. “Guess you should have given me another try,” he said nonchalantly, stamping her hand so she could buy alcoholic drinks. Not into second chances, after a few dates, she’d lost interest in him. “Thought the owner was going to drop the under twenty-one crowd.” “He decided to keep them on Thursday and Friday nights only—he makes too much money when live bands are playing. And they don’t mind paying five dollars for juice and sodas.” “Understandable.” She opened the door. “Talk soon?” she called over her shoulder, focusing on the throng of drinkers gathered nearby. “Lunch?” She caught Chris’s last words as the heavy door shut behind her. The bass from the large speakers hanging overhead reverberated through her chest. The marquee listed No Trust, a Scottish rock band that frequented the Texas nightclub circuit. The strange blend of bold guitar riffs and electronic bagpipes surprisingly appealed to her. Finding an empty spot at the bar, she ordered a whiskey sour and turned to check out the band. Through the sea of swaying bodies and seizure-triggering strobe lights, she found a focal point on the stage. After nursing her drink for half an hour, she decided to head to the booths in the back.

“Tina?” She didn’t recognize the voice and kept walking. “Valentina Bethel?” She stopped dead in her tracks—no one used her full name, except her mother when she was pissed off. Dark, kaleidoscopic eyes met hers. Oh God, the douchebag from three weeks ago. A client she helped get probation instead of a jail sentence. First-time offender or not, she didn’t socialize with clients. And the sooner she made it abundantly clear, the better. “Hello, Mr. Barnes,” she said. “Please.” He edged closer. “Call me Kline.” She eyed his designer suit with distaste. The wealthy bastard assaulted his ex-fiancée for getting an abortion. “I can’t do that, Mr. Barnes. Please respect my privacy; I’m here to enjoy myself. If you need to discuss your case, feel free to call my office on Tuesday.” She turned to go, but he touched her arm. “One drink.” “No.” She backed away, wanting to put distance between them. “I don’t fraternize with clients.” Without giving him a second look, she continued on her path and found an empty booth. A server placed a napkin on the table in front of her. “Can I get you anything?” “A whiskey sour.” She preferred sticking to the same drink. “Easy on the ice.” The waitress smiled and headed for the bar. No Trust started a new song with a haunting bagpipe solo. She watched in amazement as the redheaded lead singer hummed into his microphone while taking center stage, his dark-blue and black checkered kilt showcasing a set of muscular legs. A girl could dream…Then a violinist joined in—the acoustics in the bar were amazing—the crowd silenced by the music. “Did I do something to offend you, Ms. Bethel?” Obviously the asshole didn’t take rejection well. Tina peered up at him, his expression indiscernible. “I thought I made myself clear, Mr. Barnes.” “Did you?” His eyes widened in challenge. “Women typically say one thing but mean another.” Though she was exposed to a lot of unsavory characters in her profession as a junior associate attorney, Kline Barnes made her skin crawl more than most. Privileged and educated, there was no excuse for what he’d done. “Shall I speak in plainer terms?” she asked, irritation setting in. “Get the hell away from my table.” Her harsh tone didn’t have a visible effect. “Pretty sure I’m well within my rights to stand here.” He crossed his arms over his chest. She would have loved to smack the smug look off his face; his behavior bordered on harassment. But she preferred to leave than deal with it. She knew she should have trusted her gut the minute she parked and reconsidered going inside. Sometimes she didn’t like spending time alone at home, though. Whenever she did, her overactive imagination caught up with her and she’d remember all those failed relationships. Fifteen boyfriends, three marriage proposals, and one canceled wedding. Not exactly a winning record. In fact, her

win/loss record as an attorney was more impressive, and it was not something to brag about. She unzipped her purse and grabbed a five-dollar bill from her wallet. She slapped it on the table for the waitress, then stood up, avoiding Kline. Without a word, she rushed for the exit, happy to call it a night. Fifteen minutes into her drive home, lights reflected back at her from her rearview mirror; a black Mercedes tailed her dangerously close. Traffic on South Padre Island Drive was light, as most people were still out partying at the clubs. She signaled to change lanes, slowing down to forty-five miles per hour. The sedan did the same. Then she switched to the fast lane, accelerating to seventy-five, well over the speed limit. Again, the Mercedes kept pace behind her. “Shit!” No doubt Kline was following her. She decided not to lead him to her apartment complex. And what would she tell a 911 operator? Unfortunately in cases like this, the police were seldom able to do anything preventive. Fear and paranoia didn’t constitute the right to arrest somebody for a crime the person hadn’t committed yet. One of the fatal flaws in modern law. With Lily and Lang out of town, and her office mates gone, too, her options were limited. Lily’s husband was the former president of the Sons of Odin, a one-percenter motorcycle club based in Flour Bluff. It had been months since she’d visited the club-owned bar, Valhalla. But Tina knew some of the Brothers and their old ladies. And Lang had extended an open invitation. An offer she couldn’t pass up right now. She checked her rearview again, the black car still in pursuit. Speeding all the way down Laguna Shores Road, a long, curvy two-lane street that ran adjacent to the water, she finally pulled into a parking lot, then checked her rearview again. Gone—the Benz was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she should wait a couple of minutes and make sure Kline had given up, then drive home—problem solved. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and gazed at the bright neon sign on the familiar white brick building —Valhalla. It had never looked so good. Lust spiked inside her. Every time she thought about the Sons of Odin or this place, she remembered Vincent—Lang’s best friend. A man she could never get enough of. After experiencing someone as creepy as Kline Barnes, she needed someone as big and strong as him to scare the shit out of Kline. If she were being honest, she’d admit how nervous she was knowing he might be here. But Tina had a way of ignoring her fear. She jumped out of her car, all attention focused on the front doors. “Tina?” Kline’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her. Tension set in. How did he beat her here? Or was she imagining it? Her gaze zigzagged around the dark parking lot. No one. Blame it on adrenaline. She’d had her fair share of problems with men but hardly qualified as a trouble magnet. Blessed with a quick mind and a gift for sarcasm, she usually deflected unwanted attention with ease. Not this time. Was he a serial stalker? Did seeing her trigger some kind of psychotic break with reality? She’d technically won his case, sparing him the usual two-year prison sentence for the assault charge, so he had no reason to be angry. She needed to get inside. She gasped as she barreled into something solid and skidded backward on her heels.

Unable to keep her balance, she twisted her ankle as she dropped to her knee. “Holy shit,” another male voice rumbled. “Are you okay?” Tina snapped her eyes shut for a split second, appreciative that someone had come to her aid. “Tell me you’re all right.” Wait—she recognized that Barry White baritone. She gazed up as Vincent lifted her to her feet. “Tina?” “Vincent?” She smiled, his concerned expression a welcome sight. When she tried to put pressure on her right foot to get up, she winced in pain. “Crap.” “You’re hurt.” He gazed down at her foot. “In a hurry?” More than he’d ever know. “I—um.” Speechless. She’d met Vincent the same night her best friend met her husband a year ago. Apparently he still intimidated her—all six foot five of his muscular frame. “Yeah,” she admitted. “Some asshole followed me from downtown, and I didn’t know where else to go.” Vincent snaked his arm around her waist, supplying the extra support she needed to stand. “Where?” “He called out to me a second before I collided with you. His name is Kline Barnes; he drives a black Benz.” Vincent scanned the farthest reaches of the parking lot. “I don’t see anyone. How well do you know this guy?” “Not personally. He’s a client at my law office. That’s what confuses me most. He pled no contest on an assault charge and I brokered a reduced sentence. It’s a matter of public record.” He rubbed his chin. “You’re safe now. Let’s get you to the clubhouse—Doc can check your ankle.” He swept her into his strong arms and headed for the compound behind the bar. She stared at the clear nighttime sky full of stars. By whatever providence she’d arrived at Valhalla at the same moment Vincent was outside, she didn’t care. She liked being in his arms again.

Love stories you’ll never forget By authors you’ll always remember eOriginal Romance from Random House randomhousebooks.com

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