Ruin Me (50 page)

“This kid has no chance of being normal, does she?” I ask, my smiling eyes locked on her sleeping face.

“Probably not,” Kai answers. “But what’s so great about normal?”

I look at him and he kisses me softly.

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UNTOUCHED:

A BAD BOY MMA ROMANCE

MIDWEST ALPHAS | BOOK 1

TABATHA KISS

Copyright © 2015 by Tabatha Kiss

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form

without written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All characters detailed within are eighteen years of age or older.

No characters engaging in sexual acts are blood-related.

WARNING:
This novel contains explicit descriptions of

erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive,

including perverse adult language.

Reader discretion advised.

UNTOUCHED:

A BAD BOY MMA ROMANCE

MIDWEST ALPHAS | BOOK 1

BY TABATHA KISS

I thought I wanted my stepbrother, but then I met his cousin.

I’ve been banished for bad behavior.

Exiled away to some farmhouse out in the middle of Hickville, Missouri to be set straight by my ex-cop step-uncle, Charlie.

I miss Chicago. I miss my friends. Above all, I miss my bad boy stepbrother, Rick. The only person in the world that wants me around.

Charlie has three rules:

1. Put everything back where you found it.

2. Don’t leave the house without supervision.

3. Stay away from his son, Tobias.

He’s
untouchable
.

In more ways than one.

I walked in on Tobias changing.

It was a total accident, but I didn’t cover my eyes.

It wasn’t his perfect body that kept me from looking away.

It was the bruises.

They were everywhere, like red and blue paint splattered across his ribs and arms.

He’s hiding something but he’s not telling.

Luckily, I’m not too keen on living by the rules.

I follow him underground — literally — and catch him going head to head with some of the most vicious fighters in the country.

The Midwest Alphas. An illegal MMA fighting tournament.

Tobias is the local favorite to win it all.

But there’s something he wants more than to be the Alpha champion…

And he’s looking right at me.

Chapter 1

Who Are You?

My stepfather turns the wheel and we travel off the highway onto a dirt road. The car rocks back and forth along the unstable drive and the contents of my stomach shift from motion sickness I never knew I had.

Six hours. It’s been six hours in this hot, muggy car, driving farther south than I’ve ever wanted to be in my entire life. Chicago is my home and I miss it more and more with every mile we travel. The last thing I want to do is spend the summer down in Bumfuck, Missouri, but like they said, I have no choice in the matter.

The farm comes into view as the fluorescent headlights illuminate it in the darkness. I cringe. It looks exactly as I expected it to, with a big, white house and an ugly, red barn at the far end of the driveway. Ugh, it even smells like it looks. Like dirt, mold, and dead things.

The car stops and my mother and stepfather exchange a quick glance in the front seat. She’s barely looked at me in days, even when I begged her to speak to me. She’s weak, always has been. I know that this was all my stepfather’s idea, and like the submissive, doting wife she is, she never questioned it for a second.

My stepfather steps outside the car and slams his door before wandering back to the trunk. I lean forward, taking the only opportunity I have left.

“Mom, please,” I beg her. “You don’t have to do this. Just give me one more chance and I—”

The door next to me opens and I look up into the dark eyes of my stepfather, Thomas. He holds my suitcase in one hand. “Get out, Claire.”

I turn back to my mother. Her eyes are down, on the brink of tears. “Mom, say something,” I tell her.

“Claire, get out of the car.”

I ignore him and reach out to my mother. “Mom—” His hand grips my arm to pull me out. I snatch my purse off the seat beside me. “Mom!”

She covers her face with her hands as I’m forced out on to the gravel driveway. Thomas closes the door behind us, casting her face into total darkness.

“Come on,” he growls. He keeps his grip on me and tugs me along with him towards the dark, white house. A dim lamp lights the porch above the scratched front door, painted red to match the eyesore of a barn across the gravel driveway.

“Will you please let me go?” I ask, my voice shaking.

Thomas says nothing, he never even turns back to acknowledge that I spoke. We climb the wooden porch steps and stop in front of the door. He reaches out and knocks twice.

Before I can take another breath, the door flies open and an older man stands in the doorway. He’s taller, a little taller than Thomas, but carries the exact same buzzed black and silver hair and mustache that every man I know born in the 1970s carries around with him like a badge of honor. I look up at him and we lock eyes for a brief moment.

“Come on in,” he says.

Thomas’ hand drops from my arm and he stares me down. “Go on,” he gestures me inside.

My eyes scan the entrance. I stand firm, not wanting to take another step. “Please take me home—”

“Get in the damn house, Claire.”

I look at my stepfather and my hatred for him multiplies. A chill glides through my body. I wrap my arms around my chest to keep the warmth inside. The early summer air does little to help. I quake and shiver. My body doesn’t feel like my own. I feel out of focus, lost in my own skin.

Thomas’ hand touches my back and he shoves me inside. I stumble, but keep myself up right as I walk into the large farmhouse. He tosses my suitcase inside after me and it lands with a loud thud at my feet.

“Goodnight, Thomas,” the man says to my stepfather before closing the door behind me.

We stand in silence as I listen to the sounds of Thomas’ boots on the porch outside and the car engine roaring with life before rolling down the gravel road.

The shock hits me. They left me here. They actually left me here. They left me behind in some strange house with some strange man out in the middle of nowhere. I look around the entryway. The stairs to the second floor sit right ahead of me and a living room sits just to the right of the front door. This house is obviously old, worn, and hasn’t seen a woman’s touch in quite some time. The furniture in the living room doesn’t match. The throw rugs are worn down from feet walking on them for decades. The television is small and just as old as I am.

“Come with me,” the man finally says.

He steps out of the living room and I reluctantly follow him into the back of the house. We enter a kitchen with white counters and a white floors. White appliances, white everything.

“Sit down.” He pulls out a wooden chair from the round dinner table in the corner and points it towards the center of the room. As I sit down, I feel like it might break beneath me, it’s so old. I cling to my purse like a security blanket, the only sense of familiarity I have here.

“Do you know why you’re here?” the man asks. He reaches up and grabs a drinking glass from the cupboard and fills it with water from the sink faucet.

I scoff, but say nothing. My teeth chatter together in my head. My thumping heart fills my ears. He walks forward and holds the water glass out for me to take. My tongue twitches, begging for it after the long and hot car ride. I take the glass and gulp the water down. It tastes old and strange, but it’s better than nothing.

“Your parents believe you’ve gone down the wrong path and they sent you here for my guidance,” he says, leaning back against the kitchen counter near the sink.

“What makes you so special?” I set the glass down on the table behind me.

“My name is Charlie Eastwood,” he says. “We’ve never met, but I know who you are.”

“Right…” I sigh, recalling the name. “Uncle Charlie. Thomas’ brother. The cop.”

“I’m not a cop anymore,” he says. “But back then, I was the one they called to deal with situations like this.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“You’re in withdrawal, Claire,” he says. “You’re twitchy. You can’t get warm.” He furrows his brow. “How long since your last hit? Two days? Three?”