Thorn: Carter Kids #2 (17 page)

I FELT SHADY AS HELL
as I tiptoed down the hallway and into my bedroom with the latest MFA magazine in my purse.

Closing the door behind me, I settled cross-legged on my bed and opened the center page section of the magazine…

MESSINA NEXT IN LINE FOR HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE SHOT

In a rare interview with Noah ‘the Machine’ Messina, when asked about his commitment towards the MFA, he responded with:

“Many people don’t understand the obsession, the fuckin’ passion of the sport. But that’s ‘cause they’ve never stood in the middle of an arena with seventy thousand people screaming their name.

They’ve never felt the compulsion of pushing their body to maximum capacity, of working their body until they puke and keep on going.

Fighting is in my veins.

Adrenalin pumping through every pore in my body – fuck there’s nothing like it.

You could go to the ends of the earth and nothing would compare to the feeling of standing in the ring, geared up and ready to inflict pain…”

When asked about his private life, in particular his relationship status Messina responded by saying:

“I don’t have time for a life – for one woman. Been there, done that, and I can safely say it was the biggest mistake of my life. In my experience, women are a dime a dozen – a means to an end – an itch to scratch, a fucking nuisance. No, I’m too busy climbing to the top, being the best and winning. That’s my goal, my focus and my fucking church. I won’t quit until I win. I won’t quit until I’m carried out of that ring in a fucking body bag.”

Ugh. Tossing the magazine off my bed, I threw myself onto my back and shoved my fist in my mouth. If I didn’t, I was going to scream the house down and if I did that, my upstairs neighbor Mrs. Murphy would probably suffer her second heart attack this year.

I wasn’t having that on my conscience.

I was such a glutton for punishment.

Seriously, why I tortured myself by watching fight after fight and buying up every magazine and newspaper with his name on it was beyond me.

I needed to get a grip.

I needed to get a bloody life, but I knew exactly where I was going be on fight night; parked in front of our flat screen with my heart in my mouth, and every other part of my body shaking to the core.

Breakups were hard enough on a woman without having their ex splashed across magazines and television screens, looking hot as hell. Only my ex could land himself in prison for half a decade and come out smelling like roses. The man had signed with the MFA the minute he got out of prison and in the last year had taken the sport by storm.

Noah was a global superstar, and I was an instructor and co-owner of a back street gym in Cork City. Noah was shagging every woman with a pulse, while I had practically regrown my virginity.

I couldn’t explain why I put myself through this, only that I wanted to see him succeed. I wanted to see
him.
Even though I would never admit it to a single soul, I wanted Noah to have a good life.

The door of my bedroom blew inwards and in barreled Hope, fresh-faced and mouth agape. “Teegs, did you read what Noah said?”

“Don’t say his name in my presence,” I snapped, stopping my friend in her tracks. “I mean it Hope; don’t utter his name in this room ever again.”

Pathetic as it was, I couldn’t stand to talk about Noah openly. It hurt too much because at the end of the day, regardless of how much I wanted to, I
couldn’t
stop loving
him and I couldn’t stop
wanting
to hate him. I was a proud woman, and talking about it only made me feel weak. I didn’t show weakness, therefore when it came to conversations involving Noah Messina, denial was my best friend.

Hope looked momentarily stumped as she stood in the doorway of my room with her iPad clutched between neon painted fingernails. “Can I change he-who-shall-not-be-named’s name to asshole and talk trash about him?”

I considered this for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I accept those terms.”

Hope grinned and skipped over to where I was laying on my made bed. She could always do this; make me feel like I wasn’t completely alone in the world.

My relationship with Hope was one I cherished more than anything. She wrecked my head at times, but the girl was worth her weight in gold.

But no matter how much trash she talked, or how hard she tried to cheer me up, I couldn’t shake Noah’s words…

“I don’t have time for a life – for one woman. Been there, done that, and I can safely say it was the biggest mistake of my life.
”

Looks like he’s up to his old tricks again,” Hope announced. “Whoring and touring.” Looking at me with a devious smirk, she added, “At least you made it out with a clean vagina.”

“That’s true,” I laughed, burying my hurt with a smile.

“PUSH IT HARDER, LIAM.
Give me more…I can take it.”

“Jesus, you’re so damn tight,” Liam ground out through clenched teeth, adding more pressure. “Relax your muscles, Teagan, or we’re going to be here all day.”

“I’m trying…ugh, you’re almost… Yes!” Breathless, I let out a moan of contentment as Liam pushed my thigh almost completely parallel to my stomach.

I felt the muscle that had been causing all the trouble snap back into place and I almost cried out hallelujah.

“That’ll teach you,” Liam grunted before offering me his much larger hand and pulling me to my feet. “Next time, take on someone your own bloody size. You’re not a machine, Teegs.”

“Duly noted,” I muttered, rubbing my ass cheek.

Stretching gingerly, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror and groaned. I looked like shit, I smelled like ass, and I was going to have the mother of all bruises on my behind– courtesy of the huge dick currently signing membership forms in our office upstairs.

“I hate that guy,” I told Liam. “I mean it, Liam. If there were any other way around this I would tell Ciarán Crowley and his team of GAA hurlers to take a running jump out of the nearest window.” I hated Ciarán. I truly despised the guy. He’d been in our class back in college and had struck up a friendship with Liam that had lasted long after we graduated. I, on the other hand, had only ever received cheap comments and come hither stares from the creep.
Ugh.
“I don’t care if he’s your friend, Noah. I can’t stand the guy.”

“Well there is
no
other way around this,” Liam hissed quietly, dragging me to the far corner of the gym, out of earshot of the few members that were working out this evening. “We’re sinking, Teagan,” he growled. “Like fucking stones. This is the first new membership we’ve had in months.”

“We’re hardly sinking like stones,” I muttered nervously.

“Hardly?” Liam raised his brow in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Teagan, we’re in so much debt I’m seriously debating declaring myself bankrupt at twenty-five.”

“I can offer some extra classes,” I offered, but Liam cut me off quickly.

“Some more Pilates?” he sneered. “Or pregnancy yoga? Yeah, because that’s sure to pay the creditors.”

“Excuse me?” I snapped. “Don’t be such a snob. I bring in good money with those classes.”

“We need this, Teagan,” Liam told me in a serious tone. “Thirty men, Teagan.
Thirty
. With a month’s payment up front. We are
depending
on these guys and Ciarán is doing me a huge favor.” Reaching out, he clamped my lips between his thumb and forefinger. “So keep that shut, and don’t ruin this for us,” he told me with a smirk. “Or we’ll both be standing in the unemployment line by this time next month.”

“Well if he touches my ass one more time,
he
will be depending on a life-support machine,” I countered, shuddering at the memory.

Liam laughed and that only made me angrier. “Do you think it’s funny?” I demanded, feeling wounded. “That those men violate me daily in my own workplace?”

Liam’s expression visibly softened. “Come on, Teegs,” he said, “You know it’s only banter with those guys. I’ll have a word with them – tell them to stop.”

Checking the time on my watch, I saw that it was going on six. “Don’t bother, Liam. It’s not like my personal safety matters to you. Here.” Slipping my hand into my bra, I tugged out the lone key and tossed it at him. “You can close up.”

Not looking back when Liam repeatedly called out my name, I stalked through the main floor of the gym, through the double doors, down the old metal staircase to the entrance, and out into the Friday night bustle of Cork City.

Rain hammered down on me and I was glad. I needed to cool the hell down and there was no way I could do that when Ciarán Crowley was in my close vicinity.

Pulling the hood of my raincoat over my hair, I popped my earplugs in and pumped up the volume on my iPod. Gliding my thumb across the screen, I quickly scrolled through songs, settling on Ben Howard’s
Oats in the Water
before pounding the pavement.

I needed to run off some steam...

As I padded along, I mentally took stock of my life.

I was twenty-five years old and had my heart broken twice.

The first time had damaged my pride.

The second time had almost killed me.

It had taken me almost a decade to build myself back up from the brink of desolation and I still wasn’t over the man that ruined my faith in all men.

It hurt. It was torturous. The pain was beyond fucking brutal and I promised myself to never allow a man to make me feel that way again.

I couldn’t talk about him to anyone, not even now, seven years later. It was still too raw, and I swear to god his name sliced skin from my throat whenever I attempted it.

Shame filled me every time I thought about how I had almost thrown my future away for a boy who fucked the school slut the second my back was turned. I had lost my relationship with my uncle because of him. Max didn’t want to know me, and on the last occasion I had reached out to him, he had cut me off the line and out of his life.

Permanently.

I had been out on a few casual dates with Liam. They had never progressed to anything more than dinner and a movie, but at least I had tried. If I was being totally honest with myself, the only reason I had accepted that date with Liam in the first place was because I had read that article where Noah talked about me being the biggest mistake of his life.