HIGHLANDER: The Highlander’s Surrender Bride (Scottish Alpha Male Pregnancy Romance) (24 page)

Chapter 2

The guests were cheering so loudly after her mother and stepfather said their vows that Callie allowed a small screech of disgust to issue from between her clenched teeth that she was positive everyone else mistook for a shrill of excitement.  It wasn’t disgust for her new stepfather or that her mother was being married for the fourth time.  It was because she knew that from here on there was no escaping Jay.  It was going to be hell, being cooped up in her mother’s house with only him for company.

She pushed those thoughts aside as the bride and groom turned away from the minister – an old friend of her new stepfather’s – and looked out to the gathering of guests.  The pair of them looked so happy that she almost felt bad about having such negative thoughts on a day like today.

Almost.

People threw flower petals in lieu of birdseed or rice, again it was her mother’s idea, and several of the small fluttering floral pieces traveled down the front of her dress, becoming trapped in her cleavage.  She didn’t try to dig them out with so many people looking but kept her face happy and excited with emotions that she did not feel. 

She and Jay rushed behind their parents as they walked happily hand-in-hand towards their waiting limo that was parked on the asphalt parking area just beyond the beach.  They were covered in the flower petals just as much as their parents and Jay seized her hand and half-dragged her along with him, her high heels doing little to find purchase in the softer sand once they reached it. 

There was a small rush of adrenaline at the feeling of his larger and more muscular hand clenched around hers.  But the strength with which he grasped her quickly turned the adrenaline into a small rush of pain.  She tried to free her hand, but Jay would not relinquish his grip.

She stumbled once and Jay caught her and she marveled, however briefly, at his strength as he hauled her back to her feet.  And together they followed their parents to their waiting limo.  Jay finally freed her hand and hugged his father while her mother turned from her new husband and embraced her.  She could see tears of joy on her mother’s face – a typical fashion feature for her weddings – as she hugged her.  In her ear, over her the cheers of the following crowd, she heard her mother’s voice.

“We’ll be back in time to see you off to school, sweetie.  Have
fun
this summer.”

She smiled back at her mother, appreciating the sentiment.  “Thanks, mom.”

With a final smile her mother and her new stepfather were ushered into their limo and speedily drove off to an airport where a private jet was waiting to take them to whatever tropical paradise or European fashion event that they had decided to spend their first two months together at. 

As they drove away, she watched the limo turn smaller and smaller down the street.  And as went the bride and groom, so did the cheers of the witnesses who dropped whatever was left of their flower petals onto the sand and began to filter their way from the venue back to their parked sports cars or limos, their tasks done, their attendance no longer required. 

She stood there on the beach beside Jay, watching their parents disappear.  She felt a sting of dislike for her life for the next two months until their parents came back.  The thought of living with Jay under the same roof held about as much appeal as going skinny dipping with hungry sharks.  Still, it was a big house and she knew it better than he did… maybe she could avoid him for the whole time.  That seemed like a good idea.

“Well,” Jay said, “it’s just you and me now.”  His voice was tinged with the kind of glee of a child about to enter into an amusement park. 

“Yeah…” she said, already missing the presence of her mother and her overbearing demeanor.  “It’s just you and me.”

The days after the wedding were simple and uneventful.  With her mother gone Callie became the official head of the household.  Her mother – as a kind of a thank-you to her staff – had given most of them time off while she was away.  There were plenty that had done so and Callie was happy to have fewer people in the house as it felt then that the place was more her own than anything else.  Those that remained were souls that favored service over liberty… and because they all knew that there would be a bonus waiting for them when her mother returned for their loyalty.

She had people to cook, clean, and tend the grounds so that she would not have to worry about it for herself.  But there were few enough so that she was free to pick what clothes she would wear for herself, do her own hair, and even drive herself if she wanted.  It was all a genuine taste of freedom. 

She managed to avoid Jay at every turn.  For the first few days she didn’t even see him at all.  None of the staff inquired to his whereabouts either and she was content to let them go on with their lives, just as she did.  She didn’t see him at meal times, nor did she accidentally bump into him in the halls, she didn’t even see him lounging by the pool as had been his custom when she had first met him. 

It was as if he was simply invisible.

She was content to let him stay that way.  However he chose to divert himself from her was fine, as long as she didn’t have to spend any time with him.  Given her way she was happy to let him stay imperceptible until their parents returned.  But knowing Jay, even for as little as she truly did, she imagined that he was out and about somewhere getting into more trouble. 

As long as it doesn’t bother me
, she thought icily.

Even though college was still months away she busied herself with all of the little odds and ends necessary for school before it actually began.  She checked, re-checked, and triple checked her enrollment papers to be certain of which dorm she was going to be living in when she arrived there… the name of her future roommate… she memorized a map of the campus… had a look at the long list of classes she could take… whatever she wanted.  She was undeclared for her major as yet, but her mother didn’t know that and the school – knowing the kind of money that her mother possessed – didn’t pressure her to pick one.

She was happy for that, the uncertainty of it all.  To be able to choose what she wanted to study was just the first of many decisions that she would make during her academic career.  And that there was no pressure to pick right now was an added relief.  Decisions made without pressure were all too few in her life and each and every one was a memorable and welcome time.  That her entire future could be filled with them was an incredible feeling.

It was the second Monday after the wedding when her cell phone chirped at her, alerting her to a new text message.  When she checked it she saw that it was from her best friend, the only one that she could confide in with her every little secret.  Cece was a friend from the days of kindergarten, back before her mom had made her millions in the fashion industry.  Cece was more than a good friend in Callie’s eyes; she was a treasure, a reminder of what it was like to be normal.  And their friendship didn’t stretch over a love of money or a desire to be famous or well-liked.  Their friendship was more than that… it was authentic.

She smiled at the text message on her phone.

Need a wild night?

-C

She thought about it.  She hadn’t gone out at all since the wedding and now that she thought of it, a night out would be kind of nice.  Even if it was just to get away from the monotony of her school preparations.  As well as Callie knew all of the in-spots for the wealthy and the elite, Cece knew all of the places where normal people would go to have their fun.  Such places were ones where Callie could be invisible, since no one would know her there.

The simplest of such places was nothing short of perfect. 

She texted Cece back with an enthusiastic response.  And her skin tingled at the thought of having a girl’s night out.  Part of her was overly curious about what kind of a wild time that they would have.

Chapter 3

It was called “The Pit” and it was, in a word, dark.  Callie was more than a little surprised to find that Cece knew about it at all when they first drove up to it.  The reason being that Cece usually favored the
normal
kinds of clubs and restaurants when the pair of them went out; places where they could dance, eye the boys, and like that.  This was not such a place.

On the outside it was a red brick building that looked like it could have been built during Prohibition.  The brick was old and weathered, and the building’s windows were aged and yellowed from time with old and rusty iron bars over them.  The front doors were guarded by three very large and burly looking men that had tattoos covering every last inch of their bare skin… the kind of people she would have expected to see guarding the gates of Hell. 

“I’ve seen this in a movie before,” Callie said looking up at the place, “this is where the drug lords come for a relaxing night out… and they feed people to crocodiles or something?”

Cece laughed at her.  “You watch too many movies.”

Once they got in line she saw how accurate Cece was in her assertion.  The place was not what she expected… at least on the outside.  She was surprised to see a blend of people standing in line, waiting for their chance to enter.  They were sorted mostly into two groups.

There were people who were clad in black leather, bandannas, sunglasses, and riding chaps that looked fit to be in motorcycle gangs.  The collection of motorcycles parked on the street or in the nearby parking lot certainly supported that theory.  There were also a collection of younger people, clad in leather jackets and loose fitting jeans wearing logos that she recognized as belonging to speed bikes or adrenaline games.  In short, they were the kind of people she expected to see riding crotch rocket motorcycles.  Both were collections of people that she would have been afraid to be alone in the same room with under any other circumstances.

What balanced that was the other half of the crowd that was gathering.  Mixed among the biker crowds were people that she was more familiar with: the rich.  There were men and women in elegant and expensive suits or dresses, expensive wrist watches, and sports cars that would have fetched a very nice price in the right chop shop.  Enough baubles hung from the necks of the women that she felt certain that any moment one of the bikers would reach out and try to steal those gems from around their necks.  But the gems went untouched and Callie was amazed at it.  It was like watching sharks ignoring bloody meats hanging freely in the water. 

What she couldn’t really understand is why people like this – polar opposites of the money world – would choose to gather in a place like this.  She could understand one half of the crowd gathering here, but not so the other.  She had seen similar things during her mother’s fashion shows – where everyone was equally rich, famous, or at least from similar circles – where fights tended to break out. 

Amazingly, there was no sense of animosity from the crowd that she could detect.  There was no sense of class struggle.  She would have thought that a gathering of people like this was like trying to keep fire and oil from igniting.  But the atmosphere seemed neutral… relaxed even.  She saw some of the rich men offering cigarettes to the bikers and they laughed with each other at some joke or another as if they were old friends reunited after a long time apart. 

It was like she had stepped into another world.

But from its looks and the people that seemed to be pouring into the place, this was not the kind of place that she and Cece would have ventured to, that was for sure.

“Cece,” she whispered to her friend, “what is this place?”

Her friend turned to her and smiled.  Cece was small and slender where Callie was large and buxom.  Cece’s red hair flashed in the glowing neon signs of the club and her pale skin shone brightly under the artificial lights.  Her dress was simple, the kind of thing that a normal person would wear.  “What does it
look
like, genius?”

Callie looked around and looked back to her friend incredulously.  “It looks like a dive bar where bad things happen.”

Cece only smirked.  “Oh… it’s more than that, friend.  It’s
so
much more.”

They waited in line for only a few more minutes before they were able to pay their way inside, but every fiber of Callie’s body was torn down the middle between staying and going.  Half of her was curious, the other half was cautious.  In the end, curiosity won out.  She knew Cece well enough to know that she wouldn’t take her someplace dangerous… not unless the danger was worth it.

Once they passed through the doors she surveyed the inside and found that Cece had not been wrong in saying that this place was so much more than a dive bar.  And at first glance it was clear that the place had been rearranged for some special event.

She had expected to find the smell of cigarette and cigar smoke and maybe the lingering odor of spilled beer in the air.  But what she found instead was a relatively passive atmosphere that smelled of nothing but the smell of cleaning agents and something that was even fragrant, though she couldn’t identify it.  She had thought to find peanut shells on the floor, or broken glass, but the floor looked pristine, like the inside of an office building but covered in a layer of thick and overlapping plastic.  It had seemed obvious that she would find tables, maybe made out of salvaged steel grates and chairs bolted to the floor to keep occupants from hammering each other with them if they got too drunk.  But what she found in their place was bleachers arranged around some kind of a cage in the center of the room.

Callie had seen enough TV to know a fighting cage when she saw one.  And the force with which the realization hit her was like being struck in the chest by a truck.  “Cece…?” she said, turning to her friend as the people slowly trickled their way into the stands, where numerous people were already sitting and talking excitedly with one another. 

“I found this place last week,” Cece said excitedly.  “It’s an MMA arena.”

“MMA?” Callie asked, having heard the term before but she had no idea what it meant.

“Mixed Martial Arts,” Cece explained excitedly.  “This is a fight club… or at least it is tonight.  It’s not exactly on the circuit for the pros, but some of the champs that are on TV and all that started out in places just like this.”

Callie disregarded the excited explanation and shook her head.  “You know… when you asked if I wanted a wild night I didn’t imagine that it would involve watching two guys try and beat the shit out of each other.”

Cece smirked mischievously.  “That’s why I didn’t say anything… and believe me you’ll thank me when it’s over.”

Callie wanted to argue the point but didn’t.  College was only months away and she had never really been one to walk on the wild side in her life.  She had always imagined that college would be full of such things and that there would be a time for it.  But still… this place was so out of her usual comfort zone that she thought that maybe Cece was right.  Maybe she should do something wild… something savage.  Blood sports had never really been her thing and maybe that was why Cece had decided to bring her here.  Because it was time to try something new… something fresh. 

She shrugged to herself.  What could it hurt?

They found seats in the stands on the north side of the cage and people found their seats around them.  There was a competitive feeling in the air as the first pair of fighters stepped into the ring and she saw what Cece had meant by thanking her.  Only she didn’t wait until things were over, she thanked Cece now because the first two contestants were nothing short of gods in tight shorts.

She had only ever seen muscle like that on men that posed for underwear commercials or in cheesy lifeguard movies.  But these were better because they were
real
.  So real that she could almost literally reach out and touch them.
 
And she wanted to touch them… very much.  Their abs were sculpted to the point where she thought she could grade cheese on them… their shoulders were broad… powerful… their legs as thick as tree trunks… their arms were wonderfully built.  One of them looked like he was about forty or so, the other about thirty.  Despite their age each of them looked handsome in their own way.

“Told you,” Cece said over the shouts and applause of the other spectators in the stands.  Callie didn’t need being told twice.  She saw the appeal in this place now, brutish as it was.  If she couldn’t delight in the violence of it all she could delight in the eye-candy.

She watched with a detached interest as the fights began, her eyes focused only on the fighters and the shapes of their bodies.  But somewhere along the way she developed an interest the actual sporting event.  It all began to happen so fast that she barely had time to register it all.  It was like watching a boxing match, but inside a chain-link fenced cage where fighters were allowed to kick as well as punch.

The crowd was electric, their cheers and their applause filling the air with such energy that she couldn’t believe that such a power source could not be tapped and profited from.  There were cries of anguish… of agony… of glee… of blood… Some of the spectators screamed encouragement for one fighter or another while others screamed derogatory remarks for the other. 

One pair after another two men moved about inside the cage like two fish swimming in the same small bowl at first.  Occasionally kicking… punching… grappling… striking… or even body-slamming one another when they could.  Stains of blood appeared on the matted floor of the arena… sometimes from one fighter or another pressing his face against the mat.  Sometimes they spat the blood out, along with a tooth or two, sometimes the blood dripped from fresh cuts, or scrapes on their faces.

She wasn’t sure what she was looking at as the fights went on, but by the end of the fifth or sixth pair of fighters she thought she understood the basics of the rules.  The fights weren’t so much about technique as they were about strategy.  She knew nothing about the various fighting styles of the world and she imagined that seeing movies was no substitute for real-world knowledge but she could tell right off that no two fighters used the same techniques as the others. 

Some of the moves that the fighters used reminded her of wrestling.  Some of them reminded her of Kung Fu movies that she had seen as a child.  Some of their attacks were powerful kicks… others relied on heavy punches… some preferred to slam their opponents to the ground and twisting arms and legs to force them to submit.  She couldn’t determine if there really was any one particular set of skills involved or not.  But there at least was a point system involved and points were given or taken away depending on how well a particular attack was delivered or deflected.  The matches were won by knock out, tap out, or fought to a draw from what she could tell.  It was a lot to take in and make sense of.

But the rules of the fights were hardly what had captivated her attention, she decided.  All that struck her were the fighters… almost with as much force as how they struck each other.  There was something that was simply captivating in looking at them.  Muscle… mass… ferocity… the very
danger
of it even held some appeal.

And it wasn’t the violence that caught her attention.  It was everything else.  It was how messy their hair got… the way the sweat glistened on their hardened bodies… the rippling of their muscles as they struck at each other… the grunts they made as they delivered punches… the groans as they absorbed kicks… the way they tackled each other on the mat.  Yes, there was something beastly about it, but there was also something else.  Something…
enticing
… something that was worthy of closer inspection.

Much
closer.

Callie had never been attracted to men like this and until now she had never really thought about why.  Growing up as she did she had always associated such things with an environment such as this: dark, violent, bloody, something that was altogether not appropriate for someone of her standing in society.

A standing that I’ve tried my whole life to ignore
, she thought as she watched the fighters circle and beat each other in the ring. 

Sure, most of the men that she watched in the cage had tattoos up and down their legs, their arms, their chests and bellies, their necks, their backs, and even on their faces.  But somehow, their conduct in the ring allowed her to see past what she had been taught to think.  They weren’t trying to bludgeon each other to death.  There was
sportsmanship
involved.  When a referee blew the whistle, they stopped.  When one of them tapped out, all sense of violence and aggression ceased, and when one of them was knocked out and revived then the victor helped the loser to his feet.  There was something admirable in all of that.

“And now…” said the announcer in the center of the ring as the last two fighters cleared out and cleaning crews stepped in to clean up what they could of the blood from off the mat.  “The final event of the evening that you’ve all been waiting for!”

The crowd cheered and Callie brought her eyes upon the announcer.  The man was skinny and his hair was slicked back as though he had dipped his head in a bucket of oil and his suit looked only half as expensive as the rich men that had come here to witness the matches.  He stood in the center of the ring, clutching a microphone in his hand and speaking in circles to the crowd at large.