I feel like I’m trapped in one of those romance dramas myself, the part right after the break-up when the main character is realizing that if they had known their last kiss was going to be their last, they would have never let it end. And they’d have used the last time they had sex to show them how much they loved them.
I can’t help but laugh at the irony of our last time, Angel literally spanking me and punishing me. Our last time together was the most aggressive of all of our sexual encounters, but maybe that’s the way it was supposed to end. The thought of our last time being soft and gentle, like the times he’d whisper how perfect I am, how much he loves me, and that I’m his… well, that might just break my heart even more.
Diablo
No matter how much I try to focus on work, her words keep running through my head… If you’re really saying that you can’t, or won’t, accept Donovan… we’re done.
The fact that she could end things with me so easily, cut me out of her life like that, I feel a rage that I haven’t felt in a long time. I can’t believe I let myself get pussy whipped. I was revolving my entire fucking life around her, one hundred percent in, and the fact that she could just break it off so easily, I’m fucking livid.
I’ve already messaged Carter and asked for a spot on tonight’s roster; I won’t be able to fuck, so I might as well use this rage to earn some fucking money. Shit, if I win, maybe I’ll grow my balls back and be down to fuck another girl… get Elizabeth out of my head once and for all.
I sense movement across the yard and glance up from behind the bike I’m working on, knowing I’ll be hidden from view. There she is, walking across the yard, but I notice she’s wheeling her suitcase behind her, she’s taking everything she owns. Where the fuck is she going?
I told the guys to tell her to stay, knowing she has nowhere to go. I expect her to go to the car, hoping one of the guys has at least offered to put her up in a hotel or something, I said I’d pay for it. But no, she heads straight for the gate and Walrus opens it without a word. What the fuck? As soon as the gate closes, I head straight to the clubhouse, but I’m stopped by the guys coming around the corner.
Slim quickly lifts his hands to calm me, “Hold on, don’t go mental, she’s staying with me.”
I try to ignore the shoot of jealousy that stops my breath, knowing that Slim will be living with my girl, and I won’t be. But I guess she’s not my girl anymore.
“Why the fuck aren’t you driving her there then?” I shout.
Slim shrugs. “She’s stubborn, bro.”
He’s not wrong either… Shit, Elizabeth is still going to be the fucking death of me.
“I know she’s stubborn, but you need to take her to college and pick her up,” I say, knowing they can take shifts. “And one of you needs to take her to work and pick her up too.”
They nod.
“I’m fucking serious. If I find out she’s taking the bus anywhere I’ll take you to the Pit myself, even you Tank, and don’t think I fucking won’t.”
“Okay, calm down,” Tank says, “we’ll look out for her, brother.”
I know she’ll be safe at Slim’s on her own; the guy was in the fucking military; he’s probably got more security around his house than we do at the club. And as much as I wouldn’t trust that pendejo Brian with my little toe, I know she’ll be safe at the diner… it’s the time in between that worries me.
“Why are you talking about the Pit anyway?” Pretty Boy asks.
“Carter’s put me on the list for tonight.”
“Shit,” Pretty Boy mutters, while Tank and Slim keep quiet.
I know what they want to say; they want to tell me that getting back into underground fights is a terrible idea, that I’ve been out of the game for a while and there’s a very good chance I’ll get my ass handed to me. Well I don’t give a shit, I can still put on a show; and the pain after a good fight will be a million times better than what I’m feeling right now.
I thought I’d have missed the smell of this place, I remember it smelling like booze, sweat, the win… but in reality it just smells like blood and vomit. Now that I’m here, I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t rather be wrapped up warm in bed with Elizabeth and her vanilla scented fucking hair.
That thought on its own is enough to send me into a fit of rage, so I forget about the smell and go in search of Carter, the guys following behind me. He’s not hard to miss, the man is fucking huge; and no matter the weather, he lives in a white cotton tank, loose around his chest and tight around his stomach. He’s surrounded by his usual cloud of cigar smoke and a couple of girls on each side, none of them look like they want to be here.
“Diablo!” His voice booms in the space; the guy’s never needed a microphone to announce fights.
I nod. “Carter.”
“How long’s it been, my friend?”
Everything with him is always ‘my friend’ but the truth is, he has no friends. He’s one of the most ruthless people I’ve ever met, if he doesn’t call you friend, he’s probably about to kill you, but I’ve seen him kill plenty of his friends too, so… either way, not a guy to mess with.
“Too long,” I say.
“I’ve had a request for you,” he says, eying me carefully.
