Spent - Part Three (Bad Boy Fighter Book 3) (5 page)

“Your Dad is at the Baltimore arena,” Luke says with a blank look on his face.

It feels like all the blood drains from my face, “What?”

Luke sighs, “Mike doesn’t know exactly what went down, but he found him and Stewart throwing punches.”

All I want to do is cry suddenly, “Is he okay?”

Luke nods his head, “Yeah. Mike got in there quickly. I need to go get him. That call was a courtesy to me to get him out of there, or else they’re calling the cops.”

“Why was he even there?” I almost want to sob, “And why would he mess with Stewart? That sociopath is half his age and three time his size. What’s happening?”

Luke wraps his arm around me, “I don’t know, baby. I’ll find out.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

“What for?”

“My father. I never wanted you to meet him,” I begin to cry.

Luke pulls me in closer to him and kisses me on the top of my head, “I love
you
, regardless of anything or anyone else, your Dad included.”

I nuzzle my face against his bare chest, inhaling his delicious smell, “I know. I’m just sorry he’s causing trouble where you work.”

Luke scoffs, “He threw a punch at Stewart. I’m debating whether or not I want to actually shake his hand when we get there.”

I snort, “Good point.”

Placing his fingers at the tip of my chin, Luke tilts my face up towards his. His soft lips touch mine, making every nerve in my body tingle with excitement. I melt against his lips. My sex dampens with wet desire. As always, with minimal effort, Luke makes my brain shut down to the point that all I can think about is riding him into orgasmic oblivion.

Luke whispers against my mouth, “I’ve missed you.”

I pull away for a moment and stare at him, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been away for a few weeks, but you’re coming back to me.”

“I’m sorry,” I lower my gaze, “It’s been so hard.”

His strong arms wrap around me, “I know, baby. I don’t mean anything bad by it. I’ve just missed you. I know you need time to heal.”

I rest my body against his, “Thanks for being patient. I’m coming with you, by the way.”

“Like hell you are,” Luke grumbles as he pulls away from me, “Stewart’s still there and I’m not about to have you anywhere near him.”

“This isn’t up for discussion, Luke. I’m going, too.”

“I really don’t want you to go,” Luke mutters.

“And I really don’t care,” I say dryly, “It’s my Dad causing the problems. I deserve to find out why.”

***

The drive to Baltimore feels like it goes far too quickly. Despite that, it’s the most agonizing car ride I’ve ever had. Thoughts and questions tumble through my mind like a whirlwind. Luke stays quiet the entire ride, giving my wired brain plenty of alone time to come up with ridiculous theories as to why on earth my father would be at an arena in Baltimore trading blows with Luke’s former trainer.  

None of my theories make sense, sadly, and despite my father’s periods of drunkenness, he’s always been semi-rational. The only theory that carries even a semblance of weight is that my father went to confront my attacker. Even thats hard to entertain, as my Dad and I haven’t spoken and he should have no firm idea of details like who was involved, or even to what extent I was assaulted. And the last Luke and I had heard, Derrick has been laying low at his family home in Washington.

Luke pulls the car into the arena parking lot. Closing my eyes, I draw in as much resolve as I possibly can. I’m going to need every ounce of gumption I can possibly muster to face my father and whatever trouble he’s managed to stir up.

With the turn of the key, the car shuts off. I open my eyes to see Luke staring at me. His expression is serious, and there is visible concern etched across the fine lines that have slowly been appearing ever since our lives became so complicated. He’s finally starting to look his age, and it makes me feel bad I’m part of the cause behind that.

“You ready for this?” Luke asks.

I sigh, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good. Let’s go,” Luke says, matter-of-factly.

I’m thankful that he’s not trying to coddle me at the moment. I’ve loved how attentive he’s been lately, but in this situation, I need to be hard. Luke knows exactly how to soften me up, so I need him to help me stay focused.

We both get out of the car and walk quietly towards the arena. Luke doesn’t hold my hand, uncharacteristically walking a pace ahead, perhaps protectively or maybe eager to confront the situation head on. I’m too busy trying to figure out what excuses my father will have ready to care. There’s a heaviness in my chest as Luke opens the door. Anything can happen at this point, and I hate being so unprepared.

The stale air from the training area hits my nostrils as Luke and I approach. This location has never been one of my favorites, and I'm sure after tonight, it'll go onto my list of ‘despised arenas I refuse to attend’. No one is at the entrance to greet us, however I can hear muffled voices coming from the weights room ahead of us.

Luke leads the way towards the sound of people while I numbingly follow. I still haven't figured out what I'm going to say or do to my father when I see him. Once again, I've become the frightened child, hoping that someone will protect me. Luckily this time, I have a hulking six foot two professional MMA fighter standing by my side. Yet, looking at Luke now, watching his determined steps and the steel in his eyes, I realize that I may be about to walk a live grenade into a cease fire.

I place my hand on Luke's arm and tug on him to stop. The voices are coming from behind a barely ajar door, so I know they can't see us yet.

“What?” Luke’s curt response throws me off a little.

“Maybe you should stay out here.”

“What the hell for?”

“You're wound up tighter than a two dollar watch, don’t tell me you’re not, and it doesn't have to do entirely with my father, I suspect.”

Luke sideways glances, a peeved expression etched across his face. I've seen this look from him before and it usually surfaces when he's about to get into the ring with a particularly nasty opponent.

“It's Stewart, isn't it?” I ask, my tone a little softer than before.

Luke sighs obstinately at being halted in his warpath and stares at me square in the eyes, “Tash, that
bastard
is the reason why Baptiste is running around free. He deserves a platter of whatever the fuck I dish out to him.”

I pull Luke's hand into mine and squeeze it, “You're right, but beating him to a pulp isn't going to do anything but cause you to end up in a different kind of cage. One you can’t fight your way out of. Do you really want that?”

“It would be worth it.” Luke mutters defensively.

Time to bring out the big guns…

“They’ll arrest you and I’ll be left alone. I pretend I’m strong, but damn it, you're the only one who can make me feel protected while that asshole still roams the streets. Are you seriously willing to put me in a vulnerable position right now, just so you can have a grudge match with your old trainer?”

Luke stares at me blankly. He's a smart guy, but it's past three in the morning and he's running on angry, which means this is the first time he's thought of any of this. After a long pause, and him shuffling uncomfortably on his feet for a few seconds, he finally parts his lips.

“Fine, you’re right. But I'm going in with you.”

I sigh a breath of relief, “That's fine, just behave yourself.”

The look he gives me makes me want to cradle him in my arms, because I know I've just hit him in a soft spot. But I have to stay strong, at least for however long it takes for me to sort out this mess.

I push on ahead, with Luke following beside me. Reaching out, I place my hand against the door and inhale deeply. I can hear my father's voice on the other side. Memories flood through me, memories of that voice and the fear it has instilled in me. I exhale slowly as I shake my head and push the door open, revealing the four men held inside.

The scene before me forces me to stop and stare wide eyed. My father is sitting on a bench, with Big Mike hovering over him. Blood has drenched his once white shirt and is now being kept under control with an ice pack pressed against his lip. He appears shaken, which I have never seen from him before. The altercation must have really scared the shit out of him.

Meanwhile, Stewart is sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the room, sneering, and although I still carry plenty of hatred in my eyes I’d like to share with him, I realize that I can’t look at him right now. If I do, I’ll falter and the pain will return from the memory of what he helped orchestrate.

A man dressed in the same garb as Big Mike is hovering by his side. Both security men appear unshaken, but they certainly appear to be keeping their guard on a state of alert. All I can do is breathe a sigh of relief that there appears to be no cops involved. The last thing my father needs is more jail time on his record.

My dad looks at me with a face asking for forgiveness. I turn my gaze away from him and return my attention to Mike.

“Tash, I didn’t expect you to come,” Mike mutters as he looks me up and down.

He hasn’t seen me since before the assault and there’s some slow to heal injuries that are still visible. I can tell from his shocked expression that I look pretty bad to him.

“My family problems, Mike,” I reply dryly.

Luke stands beside me with his arms crossed. His gaze unapologetically fixed directly on Stewart. The former trainer appears to shrink a little in stature at the sight of Luke. Despite being ridiculously sexy when Luke’s pissed, to be on the receiving end would be intimidating as hell.

“Tasha, I…” My father begins.

“Save it, Beto,” I throw a hand up in defence, “I want to hear this from Mike, first.”

My father sighs and leans back against the wall, repositioning the ice against his swollen lip. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen my father bloodied up before, but it is the first time he’s ever backed down from me. This entire month has been filled with firsts.

“Mr. Garcia here came looking for Baptiste,” Mike starts.

I stare at my father as I feel my heart begin to sink. Somehow he’d found out who assaulted me and for once in my life, I can’t muster up feelings of hatred towards him.

I dab the stained cloth against my father’s mouth, trying my best to help the wound to stop bleeding. A swift right hook from Stewart has left my father with one severely mutilated bottom lip, but from what I can tell, that was the only damage he did.
 

Meanwhile, the sniveling bastard that helped Derrick with an alibi, doesn’t have a single scratch or misplaced hair on his body. As I tend to his wound, I notice that my father doesn’t have the signature alcohol scent I had grown accustomed to for many of my younger years.

“When your Dad here couldn’t find Baptiste, he went looking for his trainer,” Mike says, as he motions his head towards Stewart.

I stare into my father’s dark eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares back at me, his expression sullen. I’ve never seen my him appear so weak, so defeated, before. His face reminds me of the way I looked the first time I stared at my reflection in the mirror at the hospital. I too looked broken and defeated.

Stewart raises his hands in defense, “I only struck that fool after he inflicted the initial blow. It was purely self-defense purposes.”

“Bull shit,” Luke mutters, his arms still crossed, “You’re a fucking coward hitting a man twice your age like that. You could have killed him.”

Stewart arches his brow as he glares at Luke, as if challenging him to a fight, “He came up behind me and I just assumed it was one of the losers who train here trying to jump me when I swung around to hit him. If you can’t control your little victim bitch’s family, then…”

Luke raises up, rage in his eyes, as if he’s about to lunge towards Stewart and finish him, but Mike jumps between the two men and grabs Luke, “Enough!” Mike booms. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him angry, and it is downright frightening, “I want all of you the hell out of my damn arena, now!” Mike finishes as he looks back and forth between my father and Stewart.

No one says a word, but we all get up and walk out of the room, with Mike and the other security guard trailing behind us. Luke extends his hand to me. I grasp it, thankful for the sudden comfort of his skin connecting with mine. Until now, I hadn’t realized that I was shaking. Whether it was the overflowing levels of testosterone in the room, or if I had been shaking the entire time, I don’t know. But as Luke’s fingers strum along my hand and fingers, I begin to feel my entire body start to relax.

As soon as all of us are out the door and in the parking lot, Mike locks the arena door, no doubt ready to head home himself. I turn around and mouth ‘Bye’ to him. Mike returns a perfunctory wave, but he’s clearly irritated by the dramatics and looks nothing like the Mike I’m used to. Anger boils up inside of me as I think about Stewart and my father managing to piss my friend off so much.

Nearing our car, away from security, Stewart maneuvers his way in front of us and turns around, forcing us to stop and face him. I feel Luke’s muscles tighten as he grips on to me. I squeeze his hand, hoping to calm him down. He doesn’t seem to notice, but continues to glare at Stewart, every muscle in his body flexed and ready to fight.