Beat (The Beat and The Pulse #1) (4 page)

“Are you going to
take that, too?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Probably.”

The conversation
dipped into a lull again. It didn’t have to be awkward, but it was like we
didn’t know what was kosher to talk about. Safe topics, calm waters and all
that.

“Why haven’t I met
your wife yet?” I asked, knowing full well why I hadn’t.

Dad coughed
nervously, which meant I wasn’t going to like his answer. “She doesn’t want to
acknowledge that you exist.”

Snorting, I shoved
off the wall and strode across the mat, picking up my towel on the way. If it
was like that, then I didn’t want to meet her either.

“
Ren
.”

I didn't turn around.
The more people I met, the more chance that I'd be left again. Besides, why
would I want to meet the woman who Dad left Mum for? What kind of masochistic
crap was that?

Storming into the
showers where a bunch of half naked men tried to hastily cover their parts at
my appearance, I shelved that one for the too hard basket.

Chapter 4

Ash

I bet the universe a
million bucks that everyone thought I was dead.

It'd been four years
since I stood inside the boxing studio that had shaped the fighter I'd become.
Four long, agonizing years.

And in all that time,
no one had ever thought it might be a good idea to change the alarm code.

It wasn't meant to be
like this. Not by a long shot. Problem was, I had a switch and the wrong kinds
of people knew how to flip it. Once that happened it took a fucking freight
train to stop me. Even I didn't know where off was.

Beat was the one
place I could come to and forget every mother fuckin' shit thing that had ever
happened to me. I could come here, pound a bag for a few hours, run the
treadmill, kick the shit through a bag and get it all out before the switch was
even flipped. Better than taking it out on the face of some poor dude in the
ring. There was fighting and then there was fighting with anger as your driving
force. That kind of shit killed guys on the receiving end and I didn't need
that kind of trouble.

Fuck, I missed this
place. When you're surrounded by people twenty four seven, you forget what it
was like to have time on your own. Solitude. I was a better man solo.

It was the middle of
the night and the studio was dark and empty, shadows cast by the streetlights
outside were long and distorted by the mirrored wall. It was just the way I
liked it. Quiet.

The place hadn't
changed that much. It stunk of leather and sweat...stunk of testosterone and
fighting. There were new mats, some updated bags hanging at the back and
different posters hung on the notice board, but it was still the same Beat I
remembered. It was reassuringly
familiar
.

Coach would flip his
stack when he knew I was back. Everyone would.

Kicking loose my
trainers and shucking my sweats off, I tested the first punching bag up on the
hook. It was heavy enough, so I stretched out and yanked my T-shirt over my
head. Just being here like this made anxiety twist in my gut. Time to sweat it
out before it got the better of me.

The first few punches
felt stiff, but for a guy like me, it was like getting back on a bike. I never
really forgot how to fight, it was in my blood. I was born kicking and
screaming and I'd go out the same way.

I lost myself to the
movements, feeling my muscles come alive and as I punched the absolute shit
outta that bag, I felt my heart starting to beat again. My gloved fists hit
with a sting that splintered across my knuckles. I felt the impact shoot up my
arm and absorb into my torso. Blood was flowing and thrumming in my ears. Yeah,
I was fuckin' born to fight.

I caught a hint of
movement out the corner of my eye and realized that I wasn’t alone after all.
In the mirror I saw a shadowy figure sneaking up behind me. Sneaking never did
anyone any fuckin' good.

Spinning on my heel,
I came face to face with a cricket bat swinging straight for my head.
Aw,
shit
. My reflexes kicked in and my hand shot up and grasped the end of the
bat before it could smack me out.

My gaze collided with
a set of brown eyes that were attached to a sexy, disheveled woman and my
breath caught.

What the
fuck
?

Chapter 5

Ren

Staring at the ceiling
of my converted storage closet, I sighed.

Another hard night of
training had me wired to the extreme. On one hand, I was getting stronger, my
body was all toned and I felt good, but it kept me awake at the strangest
hours. If I did all this training during the day, then I probably wouldn’t have
this problem, but there was no way I was doing it in front of the Twins. That
was an accident waiting to happen. Yeah, an accident with my fist to their
faces.

Dad’s upgraded wife
didn’t want to meet me. She was the bit on the side, why was it my fault? Why
weren’t we all angry with Dad about it? It was a game where everyone was a
victim, so who knew, right? Maybe I should just let it go and think about more
constructive things.

A loud slapping sound
brought me back to the present with a violent jerk and I sat up in bed,
listening. Another loud slap echoed through the empty studio and my heart began
to hammer. It sounded like someone was belting the shit out of
something
.
Ghosts, intruders, robbers...

Crawling out of bed,
I cracked open the door and peered down the dark hall. It was empty, but now
that there was no barrier between me and whatever was going on down there, it
sounded like someone was training. At this hour? It was after midnight. Not
even I trained this late.

Edging down the hall,
I peered down the stairs and onto the studio floor and almost had a heart
attack.

This huge, hulking,
monster of a man was going hell for leather with a heavy punching bag, the slap
of his fists echoing through the empty studio. He was totally Hulk-smashing
some kind of demon out of his system.

Shit
. I didn’t recognize him and he was half
naked. No shirt, just a pair of shorts. Every time he took a swing, the muscles
in his back rippled and I could instantly picture how firm his ass was. Fuck, I
was ogling an intruder? He could be
anyone
.

Slinking back along
the hall, I picked up the cricket bat that was leaning against the wall inside
the office. The only thought I had was to incapacitate
then
ask
questions. I mean, just one look at the guy told me I’d be no match.

Taking the stairs one
at a time, I kept my gaze fixed on his back, but he was too engrossed in his
fists to realize I was coming. He beat the bag like it was his worst enemy,
like he was trying to kill it. I was right behind him and he was still going at
it, so I swung the bat, aiming right for his head. It sailed through the air
with surprising speed on my behalf and I almost thought I'd gotten him. He spun
on his heel and at the last second, a big paw of a hand shot up and grabbed the
end of the bat.

Green eyes stared at
me in surprise and suddenly, I wasn't sure what I was looking at. I didn't just
have an intruder on my hands, I had a sexy, muscled, tattooed, heartthrob
standing over me. Blinking hard, I wrenched the bat out of his grasp.

“Who the fuck are
you?” he asked, his chest heaving.

“Me?” I scoffed. “Who
the fuck are you?”

“I don't need to
explain myself,” he said with a sneer.

“What are you doing
in here?”

“What’s it look like,
gorgeous?” He stepped forward, prowling like a tiger, all muscles and tattoos.
Dean and Lincoln had nothing on this guy and there were two of them.

Realizing I was
standing there in nothing but a singlet and shorts, my boobs on full show
through the flimsy fabric, I leveled the bat ready to hit him again if he came
any closer.

“You fucking tell me
before I call the cops on your ass,” I hissed.

“Nobody’s bothered to
change the code on the alarm,” he said through a heavy breath. “I needed-” He
ran a hand over his face, beginning to look agitated.

“No psychos allowed,
buddy. I’ll crack that dense head of yours open if you don’t get out now.”

“You’re a feisty
little thing, aren’t you?”

“You’re totally full
of yourself.”

He looked me up and
down and a grin pulled at his lips. His full, totally kissable, lips. “Coach
used to let me train whenever I wanted,” he drawled. “Twenty four seven.”

I stared at him,
suddenly releasing who I was looking at.

“Coach?” he prodded.
“Andrew Miller? The guy who owns the joint you’re squatting in?”

“I’m not squatting,”
I protested.

“So, you’re the guard
dog?”

Seeing red, I swung
the bat again, but he caught it easily with one hand. He started laughing as I
jerked it out of his grasp.

“I’m going to fuckin’
love you, princess.”

“You must be the
golden boy that everyone worships around this place,” I said. “They lick your
photo every morning and twice before they go home.”

“Ash Fuller,” he
declared. “You can lick me anyway you like, darlin’.”

“Fucking,
puke
.”
Total lie. I’d lick him from head to toe and pay special attention to one
appendage in particular, but I guess he was used to women submitting to him on
their knees. I had a newsflash for Mr. Ash Fuller, Golden Boy. I was definitely
not
a submissive.

“Listen,” he said,
narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know who the fuck you are or what you’re doing
here, but I’m just getting in a workout before tomorrow. I’m not going to nick
anything.” He edged closer, his hand going for the bat. “I won’t tell if you
won’t.”

Jerking away, I
lowered it, but tightened my grip on the handle. One wrong move and I’d kneecap
him in an instant.

“Coach know you’re
crashing here?”

“Get the fuck out.”

He stared at me for a
second, before his gaze lowered to my tits.

“
Out
.”

“Bitch,” he snarled,
turning to pick up his stuff.

He dragged on his
clothes, stuck his monster feet into his trainers and stormed across the
studio. It wasn’t until the door slammed closed behind him, that I lowered the
bat.

What a total asshat.
A totally hot, sex dripping, asshat.

Checking the lock and
punching in the alarm code, I went back upstairs and closed the door to my
‘room’, propping a heavy box in front of it.

Mental note. Get a
lock.

The next morning I
hadn’t been back long from the coffee shop when the inevitable happened.

“Look what the cat
dragged in,” Dad’s excited voice echoed through the studio.

Coming to a stop on
the landing, I stared down at Ash Fuller, who had blown right in like he owned
the joint. That part was obvious since he thought he could just turn up at midnight
and do whatever he wanted. And annoyingly, he was still as sexy as he looked in
the dark. Probably more since now he was all lit up and in Golden Boy mode.

Dad threw his arms
around GB and thumped him on the back. Definitely his favorite.

My gaze met with
Dean’s and he just made a face at me. Looked like I wasn’t the only one not
thrilled at the return of one Ash Fuller. Then I felt his eyes on me.

With a groan, I
thumped down the stairs, knowing I wouldn’t be able to escape him for long, so
I just better get this over with. He said he wouldn’t tell, but that didn’t
mean shit.

“Ren,” Dad called
out, waving me over.

Stopping an arms
length from the two men, I fidgeted nervously.

“She work here?” Ash
asked like I wasn't even there.

“She's right the fuck
here,” I snapped.

Ash looked me over in
a way that made me feel fucked from head to toe. He looked at me like he was
seeing me naked and it only made the shade of red I was seeing a lot closer to
blood.

“She's just like
you,” he said, his voice all deep and sexy, still ignoring me like an arrogant
asshole. “Bites like a motherfucker.” 

Biting my tongue, I
strode off into the gym where Lincoln was pounding the pavement on one of the
treadmills. Glancing through the window, I saw Ash talking to Dad, and then he
looked up and narrowed his eyes at me. Yeah, I was the Coach’s daughter. I
wondered how Dad was spinning it to his star pupil.

“Alright, Ren?”
Lincoln asked through a heavy breath, not even breaking stride.

“Alright,” I replied,
tossing my water bottle in the holder and towel over the rail.

My gaze was like a
magnet and I found myself looking back out into the studio, where Ash had
stripped off his shirt and was stretching out, Dad still talking to him. They
were training right away? I wondered what for, since he’d been kicked out of
pro.

My gaze travelled
south, across his chest, trying to decipher what was inked there. His entire
chest and stomach were tattooed with black and grey designs, the rest of his
body seemed bare. He was etched with stars, skulls, some kind of filigree and
words I couldn't read.

Getting on the second
treadmill, I started out at a jog, staring out the window that looked over the
street. Thankfully, that view was one way and nobody could see in.

Lincoln snorted
beside me and thumped the control on his treadmill, increasing his pace.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothin’.”

I slowed down to a
walk and slapped his arm. “Out with it.”

“The favorite is
back,” he said, nodding through the window where Dad and Ash were still
chatting like old buddies.

“You’re worried he’ll
steal all your training time?”

“Ash was always
better than everyone else. He was better without even trying. He doesn’t need
the attention.”

I got it. The Twins had
to work doubly hard, or at least double the normal person hard. All this must
come natural for Ash and from the looks of the guy, he sure as hell knew it.

“I don’t even think
he was in Thailand.”

I turned off the
treadmill, facing Lincoln. “What makes you say that?”

He peered out the
window, resentment written all over his face. “He’s different. He’s lost form
and someone fighting four years solid in those circles would be a lot fitter
than he is right now.”

“Maybe he had time
off?”

“Ash?” he scoffed. “Unlikely.
That guy is like a machine. Fighting is his go juice, Ren.”

I glanced over my
shoulder and my gaze crossed Ash’s. A sneer pulled at his lips even as my body
began to tingle and I turned away, picking up my towel. Asshole.

Lincoln thumped the
controls on his treadmill, slowing down to a jog, then a fast walk. “Be careful
with him, Ren. He’s got a reputation.”

“Reputation?”

“Fucks ‘em, leaves
‘em and has a nasty anger problem.”

My face began to heat
because all I could think about when I looked at the guy was how much I wanted
him to do the fucking part with me. Wiping my face to cover my flush, I sighed.
“Thanks for looking out for me Linc, but I don’t intend to be anything with
him.”

“You let me know if
he gives you any shit, right?”

Thinking about how I
tried to crack Ash’s skull open with a cricket bat, I nodded, a grin spreading
across my face. “Sure.”