However, since I’m supposed to be staying under the radar, and something tells me kicking the living shit out of a guy twice my size might be headline worthy… I’ll let it slide.This time.
The nice stranger continues his taunts, having the desired effect on Steroids and before long he drops my arm. I’m clearly going to have a bruise there with how tight his sausage fingers were pressing against my skin.Must be his masturbatinghand.Steroids shoves me out of the way, puffing out his chest and getting in the other guys’ face. It’s only now that I can actually see who came to my rescue, and let me tell you, he doesn’t disappoint.
Both the men begin their pissing contest, slaps echoing off their chests as they goad one another. Eventually, A shoves B and well, you know the drill. Punches are being thrown, grunts are ringing through the air, and a crowd has started to gather.
I back off a bit, slipping my shoes back on my feet, but ultimately decide to stick around and watch. It may be for a dumb reason, but no matter what started it, there’s something about fighting that now draws me in like a moth to a flame. When I was little, I only ever watched the guys get into one or two fights—and I hated it.
I was constantly worrying over if they would get hurt, or if they’d be in trouble. Not to mention the sight of any kind of blood would send me into a dizzy spell and have me kissing the floor like it was Prince Charming. Mom and Dad had drilled it into my head that nothing good could come from using physical violence. Saying if it couldn’t be settled with words, it meant it wasn’t worth the effort. I lived by that motto for a very long time. Even long after I had been taken, I stuck by my principles and tried to stay true to myself. But there’s only so many times you can be whipped, slashed, and raped, before lessening your pain takes priority over issuing it to others. It came down to spewing the blood of my targets, or suffering at the hands of Colt. When the monster inside me was finally released, well, Colt relished in it.
Today, some of that monster still remains. Hidden beneath a carefully crafted facade I portray to the world. She lurks and lingers waiting for her time, but as the years have crawled by, we’ve slowly begun to merge into one. Now, satisfaction—and admittedly arousal—ping throughout the hollows of my chest watching flesh hit flesh. The feral contact stirring a primal need from deep within and releasing my inner, lustful bitch.
The fact that these two are fighting in my name, sparked an itch I had no idea needed to be scratched. One jumping to the defense of a lady in need, the other fighting for control. Here’s hoping my knight will take home the gold and issingle. It’s been a while, and I know a wonderful way to repay him for his kindness. Even if I technically didn’t need the assistance.
They’re still going at it, both parties having severely more stamina than I thought they did as they continue to swing limbs around like baseball bats. Never would have guessed it would take this long, but at least it’s enjoyable to watch as both seem to have some sort of fight training under their belts. My attention is laser focused, waiting to see who throws the winning blow, when the name of someone long dead hits my ears.
“Addison!”
I hear the scream and involuntarily flinch at the sound. My eyes close while I focus on not hyperventilating.It’s a common name, that’s all. It can’t be in regards to me.I repeat it over and over, though it does little to curb the anxiety brewing. In my peripherals, there’s the head of a man, bobbing and weaving through the mass of people. His head popping up closer and closer each time. My heart rate spikes, threatening to lunge itself out of my chest cavity if I’d allow it.
“Addy, is it really you?” I hear again and this time there’s no denying that I’ve been spotted. Chancing the full look, I immediately recognize the blonde hair and large frame. His brown eyes constantly peak around spectators, trying to catch onto mine. The sound of his deeper voice calling my name—no, my old name—sends a pulsing need straight to my lady bits. It’s as if no time has passed, just the sight and sound of one of the guys has my kitty flaring to life and on the prowl.
Shit.
As much as I would love nothing more than to run to him. To tell him everything, from how I’ve felt about them all these years to where I’ve been. To kiss him like I need the taste of his lips to survive, I can’t let him get caught up in how my life is now. The danger, the running. I won’t get him involved in that.
Oh, Max. I knew, if anything, you would make it to Miami.
An opportunity for escape arises as the fighter's fancy footwork has them dancing my way. Quick and agile, I swing my leg out, tripping Steroids and sending them both crashing to the sand. They roll, the fight not even pausing for a moment, as they each try and get the upper hand.
With the crowd now distracted, trying to flee the tumbling mass of muscles and ego, I duck making my escape by jumping into a lower level balcony. The railing is tall enough to obscure my movements, and with the help of a patio chair, short enough for me to get out again later. Using the reflective backside of my keychain as a mirror, I glance over the edge. People are picking themselves up off the beach, dusting the sand from their clothes and admonishing the men for knocking them down in the first place.
The barrage of criticism and sneers spewed at the fighters seems to have brought them back down to reality as they separate from one another with a huff. The circle has disbanded, the fight over, but my heart still breaks a little on the inside.
Max runs out of a smaller group, using his arms like a battering ram to get through. He’s frantic, and panting, but the disappointment and confusion are clear among his features. His hand tugs through his hair, his chest heaving up and down as he looks for me. His sadness is nearly palpable, as it pulls at my own emotions. We had been close, they meant everything to me, but danger follows my every direction. Gnawing and swiping at my heels, and until I end the threat of Colt once and for all, no one around me will be safe.
Stealthily, I follow Max back to his car and watch as he climbs in. He doesn’t leave right away, instead, he leans his head on the back of his seat and closes his eyes. His features scrunch together, the skin on his face going tight as he holds back the emotions trying to betray him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my breath feather light and still backstabbing me as it cracks from sorrow. He’ll never hear my words, but I’ll forever carry with me the image of his face contorted in pain.
I continue to watch him from the shadows for another fifteen to twenty minutes, unable to pull myself away. To let go of this man who I, once upon a time, pictured a future with. Max’s head rests against the car window, staring longingly towards the water, before wiping his face of the fallen tears and sitting straight.
The rumble of the engine turning over and crunch of the tires as they roll over the gravel, ring with finality. Providing me with my cue to leave as well as I slink back to the shoreline, in need of a distraction.
Goodbye, Max. At least you’ll be safe.
I have no real direction, my legs just walking on auto-pilot, my head stuck in a gray cloud, and my heart trailing after a certain blond. Fuck, I miss them all, but this is for the best. For their safety, theirlives.
The sound of footsteps draws my attention to notice the kind stranger walking in my direction. There’s a slice down his lip, and a gnarly looking bruise forming around his left eye. His knuckles are cut up, blood still trickling from the wounds, and various other markings cross his chest and abdomen. He’s walking with a slight limp in his right leg, but fuck he’s even sexier than before.
Gathering my ladyballs, I strut over, easily catching up to his side with how slowly he’s moving. He hasn’t noticed my presence, but in fairness, I’m also on the side with the eye that’s beginning to swell.
“Hey,” I chime, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.
His head twists to take me in, eyes widening slightly when he sees who’s talking to him. “Oh, uhh, hey,” he stammers while his hand rubs at the back of his neck.
“I just wanted to say thanks. In a proper way. It’s rare to see someone stand up for others the way you did. Even rarer when that person is a stranger and ends in you getting hurt.”
My hand reaches up, wiping away some of the blood clinging to his cheek. Biting my lip, I watch his eyes soften, the weight of his head falling into the palm of my hand. He looks exhausted, but his eyes glaze over with that familiar twinkle, and I know I’ve got him.She’s got him.
