Broken: Round One (Broken #1) (12 page)

“Kitten—”

“Enough with the Kitten,” I snap, raking my fingers through my hair. “I don’t want to feel weaker than I already am.”

Jai turns his large body in my direction. His eyes are dark, his lips pursed into a thin line. All of his features say ‘don’t fuck with me’ and I don’t.

“It’s my fault you’re down here so it’s my job to take care of you, Kitten. You’ve got this round in the bag; I know you do.”

“And if I win and you get your money? Then what am I to you?”

It’s a question that has burned inside me for a few days now. Once I don’t owe him anything, what happens? He has his own plans down here; he wants to find his brother. There’s no way he’s going to choose me over his family.

“This”—He gestures between us—“isn’t about the money.”

“Oh really?” I spit, rolling my eyes. “What’s it about?”

His eyes scrunch at the corners as they thin. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say what I said hurt him.

“You don’t believe me?”

I want to, but ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. I’d sell my kidney for ten thousand and maybe throw in my first born, too. “No.”

He nods, slowly, as if he doesn’t know how to process what I said. It makes me feel strange, watching him.

“You know what? I was going to wait until your first round to tell you, but since you’re so sure I’m an asshole, now’s the perfect time to reveal I don’t want the money back.”

My eyes widen and my heart inflates in my chest, limiting my breathing capacity. I didn’t see that coming.

“Why?”

“Because I fucking have money. I have lots of it—more than I know what to do with. Would the ten grand have helped me down here? Sure, but you need it more than I do.”

I feel odd sitting here in his T-shirt and having this argument with him. I don’t know how I should handle it … Are we friends? Are we more? Are we nothing, just two people being human? This whole time I’d thought he wanted his money back, but this morning he’s singing a different tune. Is it a result of the time we spent together yesterday, chatting and being carefree, or was it the sex? Was it that good? It has to be something. He saved my life—he doesn’t owe me anything, yet here he is, willing to temporarily throw his cause out the window to make my life easier.

“I’m a stranger to you. Why would you want to help me?”

Jai turns so I can’t see his face, only the rigid muscles in his back. I know the stance. I’m not getting an answer out of him and it makes me nervous. Does he actually want to help me, or does he have some kind of secondary motive? I’d like to think I can trust Jai, but something is holding me back. It could be the atmosphere, the situation, that’s preventing me from trusting him … or maybe it takes more than a pretty face to fool me. The shrink I saw a few times earlier this year would chalk it up to mommy and daddy issues. He’d claim I was finding it difficult, accepting the fact someone cares about me when the two people who were meant to didn’t.

I sigh. For the first time since meeting Dr. Stein, I hope he’s right. I hope it’s my issues preventing me from trusting Jai and not some weird sixth sense.

Because I need him.

I won’t survive alone

Preparation

I pull the fabric of his shirt higher over my head. The sound of Jai beating his fists into the punching bag over and over is making me nauseous. He started an hour ago and I don’t know how he’s still managing to connect with so much power. I’m only listening to him and it’s enough to make my arms feel like jelly. I don’t know much about his punching technique, but he’s strong, that I know for sure. I can hear the material struggle to absorb his strength, hit after hit. The chain and the pipe he’s slung the heavy bag over creaks and complains, and I expect it to come crashing down every time he connects. Somehow, it doesn’t.

“You can’t hide under my clothes forever, Kitten,” Jai announces, amusement lacing his tone.

“Maybe not forever, but I’m happy with right now.”

Jai stops punching his bag and a small eternity later, a single, warm index finger circles my ankle and glides up my calf, leaving a line of fire in its wake. My breath is trapped in my throat when the finger falls away. Where will it appear next? I try to feel his presence, feel his body warmth, but it’s already so dense in here.

That’s when the shirt I’m using to cover my face is yanked away from me and tossed across the small space. Luckily, I put clothes on a little while ago, otherwise my goodies would be out for all to see.

I adjust my lime-green tank top and fold my arms.

“Get up. We’ve got training to do,” he orders.

I pout. There’s no way I’m punching that thing. What if I miss? What if I hurt myself, or pull a muscle? “I’d rather die.”

He sneers at me, his eyes flaring wickedly. “And you probably will if you don’t learn something before then.”

Jai extends a wrapped hand to me and I eye up the thick, blue fabric. It’s a killer color next to his tanned complexion.

“Why’s it wrapped?”

He smiles. “To compress the soft tissues of my hand when I’m punching faces.”

Charming. “I don’t have any wraps.”

He clicks his fingers impatiently and nudges his open hand closer. “Doesn’t matter right now. Get up.”

Defeated, tired, and still with a killer headache, I put my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. He grins down at me when my head lolls to the side. His apparent happiness glistens in his blue eyes. I’m glad he’s happy, but I’m not on the same level. To be honest, I’m still a little bothered he ignored my question earlier. Why does he want to help me if there’s no money in it for him?

“How old are you?” he asks, angling his head.

Usually, the age questions is something you ask before fucking like animals. What if I was sixteen? Too late. “Twenty-five. Why?”

“Twenty-five? Are you sure?”

I arch a brow. What kind of question is that? “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m twenty-five.”

“Funny. You have the exact same attitude as my sixteen-year-old sister when she’s told to do things. It’s unnerving.”

Instead of finding the fact he compared me to a sixteen-year-old annoying, I find myself endeared he even has a sister. There’s something about him loving and caring for a sibling that moves me. I bet all of her friends crush on Jai. Hard.

“You have a sister?”

He frowns. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like someone just handed you a puppy.”

My lips pull wider, despite Jai’s confused expression. Rolling his eyes, Jai presses his wrapped hand to the small of my back and nudges me towards the bag.

“I just think it’s sweet your sister has someone like you to look after her.”

He presses the fingers of his other hand to the bag to prevent it from swinging. The bag is tattered and worn—even more so now Jai’s had his turn with it. Dust floats in the air around it and I can taste it in my throat.

“My sister can handle herself. She’s stronger than any boy her age. I made sure of that.”

He moves behind the bag to steady it, and with a flick of his head, he says, “Show me what you got.”

I don’t move. “You know I don’t have anything.”

“You have something, we just have to find out where your starting point is. Punch the bag.”

“Jai—”

“I’m not asking you again, Kitten. Punch the damn bag.”

Clenching my teeth, I cock my arm back and punch the bag. A small pain tugs at my tendon and I pull my hand back as it spreads to my elbow. Cradling my wrist, I look at Jai. He’s less than impressed with me, for some reason. Punching is a lot harder than it looks.

“Well …” he utters, letting go of the bag and scratching his head. “That was pathetic.”

I scoff at him. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Jai plants his hands on his hips and narrows his eyes at me. “Out of ten, I was expecting you to at least be a three or a four in strength.”

“Okay.” I shrug. “So I’m a two, no big deal.”

He shakes his head and chokes on a genuine laugh. “No, baby, you’re a one—even that’s pushing it.”

“Baby?”

He steps around the bag and towards me, ignoring the last word that fell from my mouth. “You need to work on your stance. That’ll increase your power.”

I sag, letting my spine take the bulk of my upper body weight as Jai takes my hands in his. He moves my left hand.

“Your left hand should be five inches in front of your left shoulder.”

His fingers smooth over my wrists and into my palm. They touch softly, but with purpose as he curls my hand into a fist. “Your knuckles need to be parallel to the ceiling.”

As I watch his hands expertly glide over each of my knuckles, I can feel his stare on my face and my breathing steadily becomes labored as a result. I’d peer up at him if I weren’t so mesmerized by his thick, calloused fingers as they work so beautifully over my skin. A moment later, Jai moves to my right hand and I keep my left one where he shaped it.

“Your right hand should be by your right ear, not too close, and your right elbow glued to your ribs.”

My stomach clenches as he runs the tip of his finger along one of my ribs. Maybe I’m going to like this training thing after all.

“That’s it?” I ask, when he steps around me.

“Not quite.” His light tone excites me and hot air warms the back of my thighs.

Unashamedly, it lights me up like the Forth of July as his fingers return to my skin with a vengeance, sending fireworks shooting up my legs and exploding right between my thighs.

“Your feet should be planted shoulder-width apart and your weight needs to be isolated on the balls of your feet.”

“Why can’t I stand normally?”

He exhales and the air caresses my skin. “Because the balls of your feet are the first on and off the ground. On the balls of your feet, you have two points of power.”

I frown, confused. “And what does that mean?”

“Can I explain it to you when we have more time? For now, just listen.” He plants his hands on the back of my knees. The fabric tickles my soft skin and I can’t help the giggle that seeps from my lips.

“Your knees need to be bent. This’ll keep your hips down and help you when you throw a punch.”

I have no idea what that means exactly, but it doesn’t matter too much when I feel his large hands grip my hips. I have a flashback of yesterday, when he gripped my hips and drove into me. That’s all it takes for an unbearable heat to spread up my neck and into my face. I swallow hard. If he doesn’t take his hands off me soon, I’m going to overheat.

“Your right hip should be back, with the left hip pointed toward your opponent.” He speaks right into my ear, making my posture slacken.

Jai tightens his grip, putting a sexy amount of pressure onto a dimple in my lower back. Instead of completely turning to jelly on the floor, I tighten my core and straighten my spine. I want to impress him, to make him happy by listening to him. For once.

I feel him smile against my ear. “When you turn into the punch, your hips shouldn’t make a full rotation. You’ll lose power that way.”

Loosening his grip, he rocks my hips, flicking them slightly, but powerfully all at the same time. From my hips, his fingers spread onto my stomach, making me clench and gasp.

“Relax a little. The more you tighten up, the more you restrict the connection between your arms and legs. You need your movement to be fluid, but strong. Understand?”

I nod.

“I know you’re nervous about your fight, Kitten, but it’ll be fine. Hit this bag until you’re comfortable with the movement. If you’re balanced and relaxed the basics will take over. It doesn’t take a lot of muscle or power to knock someone out. You can do it.”

He moves away from me and I shuffle closer to the bag with new-found determination. Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as I’d first thought.

“Like this?” I ask, waiting for his go ahead.

I shiver as he smooths two hard fingers down my spine, making me shudder. “Your spine was made to hold you up straight. I don’t ever want to see you slouching in a fight.”

I blow out a soft exhale. “Okay. No slouching. Got it.”

I swing at the bag and when my fist connects, the bag jolts backwards a little, much to my surprise.

“Good.” Jai praises from somewhere behind me. “Add a little bit more power to your punch and you’re good.”

I hit the bag over and over. By the sixth punch, my body is warm and my arms start to burn, but I feel lighter—faster. I pause for a brief second before peering over my shoulder. With his hands unwrapped, Jai pulls on a T-shirt and tightens the strings on his black pants. From the side pocket of his bag, he pulls another roll of money and stuffs it into his pocket. Eventually, his eyes meet mine.

“There’s someone I’ve got to see. Keep punching. Don’t stop until I get back.”

He bends low and slips into his sneakers before exiting without another word. He often disappears with money and I can’t help but wonder where he goes. A small portion of me wants to follow him, but the other portion knows it’s better to mind my own business. Whatever Jai’s into is not something I want to be involved in. His plan includes destroying Skull and I’m not entirely sure I want to be around to take the fall if he fails. Despite how strong Jai is, failing is still an option.