Slam: A Bad Boy Romance (16 page)

Yes, he had been tempted, and I guess you could say he relapsed, because he was called out, put on the spot. It was like dangling a steak in front of a hungry dog; of course they're going to try and take a bite.

“I don't believe you.” Glaring at him, fire glowed beneath my lids.

“Believe it, he's fighting this weekend. I'm sorry, honey, I know you really liked him, but now, he's off the table.” Holding the paper up, it swayed between his fingers.

I wanted to rip it out of his hands, burn it into ashes. He was fucking with me and I knew it. He did something to make him sign his soul to the devil, this couldn't have been done willingly.

How could Quinn have been caressing my lips, fucking me with his eyes, only too turn his view completely and rush out in silence?

“No. This isn't right. What did you do? Did you threaten him? What did you say?!” I lunged toward his desk, looming over him. “You forced him to do this, how? Why? Tell me!” My fists came down hard on his desk, the small lamp shade rocked with the vibration.

This man had controlled me all my life, taught me to love and fear him. Standing in front of him now, disdain was all that I could taste in the back of my throat.

“It doesn't matter, he belongs to the Ground Game, and to me now.” His brows dipped down, muscles freezing against his face. An emotionless expression glared over me.

“That's it, I'm done.” Throwing my arms up I said, “You think you can just do whatever you want, that your entitled to own people. Guess what? You don't own me, not anymore.” Turning my back to him, I was ready to close him out of my life, wash my hands of the man who raised me.

“Cadence, you know that's not how this works. You might want to watch what you're saying.” Jolting up from his chair, he strolled in my direction, folding the paper and shoving it in his front pocket. “I know you're upset, he sweet talked you, and now he's agreeing to work for me. I'm sorry for that.”

“Stop it,” I said, raising my hand. “This isn't right.” Inching towards me, his fingers stretched over my shoulder, creeping across like a spider. “Don't touch me!” Jerking away, I stepped back.

“Don't disrespect me.” His fingers twined together, tugging the trim of his blazer. “I don't want this to get ugly, but you're getting out of line.”

Rolling my eyes, my jaw fell open. “Out of line? You know what, go to hell, asshole.”

A sudden buzz rang through my ear, hot pins hitting my cheek. The quick lash of a back hand had met my face.

My hand sprung up to sooth the sting. Glaring at him, I tore the door open. Stepping through the threshold, with my shoulders pressed back and head held high, and I finally felt some sense of myself, who I was.

The strong power I had buried deep inside, the tiny flame that seethed without being noticed, had engulfed into a burning inferno.

I made my way out to the street, ignoring the customers as they eyed me.

Tonight I quit, and as far as I was concerned, this bar could be shoved up his ass too.

The rain continued to fall, all day the gray sky wreaked havoc, pouring hoards of water over the city. The sewers were working overtime to keep the streets clear from flooding.

Stepping off the sidewalk, my foot was suddenly drenched by the four inch puddle hidden against the concrete.

Shit, could this day get any worse?

The guy I'm falling for suddenly decides to sign his life away to my dad, the man I should be able to go to for advice- is a fucking selfish waste of life.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

Lifting my head to the darkening sky, I searched for an answer.

I wanted one to fall down, hit me in the face, so I didn't have to think anymore.

Lately, thinking hurt like hell.

Standing on the edge of insanity and the sidewalk, I sat down. The wet cement soaking my jeans, my ass now a deep shade of blue, giving off the impression I had pissed myself.

In this city, that was where any passerby's head would go. If I stood up and strolled away, anyone behind me would assume I was a drunk who couldn't make it to a bathroom, or just didn't care too.

At this point, I didn't give a shit what anybody thought.

Settling my head against my knuckles, cheek pushed up, fluffing over the edge, I wanted to crawl into a hole.

Rubbing the sore apple of my cheek, my fingers traced the swelling outline, a raised shadow of his palm emerging.

Fucking asshole, hitting me like that. Real good role model, a true man...

Ha!
I laughed to myself, absorbing the true nature of what happened.

No, he's scum, he has no feelings. He never did, I don't know why I ever thought I could change him.

I needed to find Quinn, talk to him and let him know I knew there was a reason he had signed that contract.

'But why?',
was the question I had. What threat had my father laid out for him to ink that paper?

My head throbbed, veins pulsing against my forehead, swelling with anxiety. I had been torn for years between my father and my life. A tiny voice had always told me to be there for my dad, that he needed me, that he had my best interests at heart.

That voice had seized, it's muted, gagged, and choked off. I was worth more than this, more than what had been displayed for me.

I had choices, and needs, feelings, and expectations. I'm human, living and breathing, a heart pumped my blood.

My father was made of pieces of perdition. He wanted me to suffer eternal punishment for the death of my mother, his loss of Uri Powell.

I haven't said her name in years, it was hard to form those letters. Even the voice inside  my own head couldn't materialize her name across my tongue. It just hurt too much.

All my life I had felt her hands cradled around me, holding me when I needed a hug, lifting me when I was down, pushing me when I needed support. She had been there in spirit, her love flowed through every inch of me.

It's hard to explain, to know and feel the love she had for me even though I never had the chance to meet her, to see her; it's there, it has always been there.

That was one thing my father could never take.

Her love.

I shouldn't have ever questioned or second guessed what my heart had said to me. My entire life had been a fucking game to him. I was playing chess against him for years, my world being checked against his moves.

He was the king and I was his pawn.

Why did I let this go on for so long? I led him to think he could treat me anyway he wanted!

Fuck! How stupid am I?

No, not stupid... Weak, I was weak.

The splashing of feet behind me sent chills down my back, the cold water forcing me to stand. Wiping my ass in a feeble attempt to dry it, the crisp fabric forming to my shape, goosebumps stiffening my pores.

Tugging the phone from my front pocket, I pulled up his number. Hitting the button, I forced the phone as close to my ear as it could go.

Come on, answer.
Tapping my fingertips against my thigh, I walked in small circles, bumping into people as they passed by.

The reverberating sound echoed through my skull, the ring seeming to be drawn out, slow motion against my ear drum.

'Hello?'

“Quinn?” I said, holding a finger inside the open ear, blocking the horns that roared across the street.

'Yeah'

“Where-”

'Sorry, leave a message.'

Mother fucker! His voicemail is a fucking joke?

I should have expected that he would have one of those messages that hook you in, make you think you got them on the line, only to find out you've been talking to no one.

With all the anger and emotions flowing like a hot spring, I still let out a laugh.

I had to admit, it was funny, he got me.

Quinn was made of steel, muscles as solid as concrete, ink sheathed his skin, masking his internal pain with physical displays of art. Each layer a prowess of what he lived through, cresting his chest in a display of strength.

I wish he didn't run off like that.
For a man who seemed to fear nothing, he feared facing me after leaving that room.

He didn't just seem pissed off or angry, he refused to even glance in my direction. His eyes bore a hole through the bar when he left, and not once had his eyes been off me for more than a quick blink all night.

I could feel him undressing me with his deep browns since he had walked through that door. I loved how it felt when he looked at me that way, like I was the most beautiful woman in the room. My stomach twirled, heart raced, body shuddered, and my pussy called for him.

Tucking my phone away from the rain that had turned into a dusting mist, the air nestled with droplets, just thick enough to dampen everything like a muggy summer's day.

Biting my lower lip, I tried to think hard about where he could have gone, I didn't know where his apartment was. Quinn mentioned it wasn't in the best part of town, but it wasn't like I lived in a classy high-rise, with a door man and a concierge.

We lived in a run down apartment, where blood spilled in the basement and men lost everything just to watch or take part.

Suddenly it hit me; My arm flew out over my head. “Taxi!” I yelled, while flailing wildly.

The rain had started to pick back up as I ducked into the back of the car. “Where to, young lady?” The old driver asked. Large square glasses outlined his eyes, a bright red and yellow sweater fit snug around his shoulders.

If this had been any other day, I would have asked him where he got that shirt. It would have won the ugly sweater contest at Christmas time. “I need to go to East sixty-third and second street.” Pressing myself into the seat, my head fell back, watching the street lights through the rear window.

There was only one place I could think of he might go when he was upset, it was a gamble but I had no options.

The youth center was my only hope.

Quinn

H
e can't do this! I won't let him!

My arm was cocked back, fist tightly balled, a loud grunt expelled as I crushed all my weight into the heavy bag dangling a foot off the ground.

“Ah!” I yelled, colliding with the dark leather fabric. The bag swung side to side as my anger fused itself into my hands, taking form in motion, releasing from inside.

Louis had taken my choice from me, forcing me into the pits. Knowing I had no option, no way out, it lit my core on fire.

I hated him.

His face shadowed the bag, his image manifested across the sheen under the low lighting. I wanted to hit him at the bar, feel his face crumble beneath my fingers. He deserved a good ass kicking.

Cadence was mine now, she's not his to pay off a debt. And he knew I wouldn't let him do it.

His beady little eyes when he told me his plan had lit up with pleasure, a sick twisted enjoyment flooded his smile when he told me what he would do with her.

Threatening to use his daughter's body to pay off money he owes.
What kind of father does that?

The smack of my bare flesh rang off the bag, echoing through the gym. My knuckles had started to redden, the raw skin flaking away to reveal fresh pulp underneath. Bouncing around on the balls of my toes I kicked my leg up, the front of my shin connecting hard.

My body was shaking with fury, it rode my back, my spinal fluid bubbled inside, inching its way to the surface.

The Macro had pinned me between a tiger and a cliff. He knew— h
e fucking knew—
I couldn't say no, that I wouldn't let him do what he said.

I was going to fight for what I wanted, fight for what was mine.

My promise had to be broken for Cadence.

I was fighting for her freedom.

My eyes began to sting from the sweat dripping down my forehead, wiping it away, I crouched down, head falling into my chest. My heart was racing, pounding against my rib cage, lungs inhaling heavily to suck in the thick air surrounding me.

This fucking sucks, how did it come to this?

He said if I just do what he asks he'll let her go, he won't interfere.

Falling back onto my ass, my arms rested on my knees.

What the hell am I doing?

I didn't even think twice about stepping in that ring the first time when he called on me, and now...

Now, I'm going to jump back in with two feet, no question about it, no second thoughts.

There was no backing out of this, she needed me.

And she doesn't even know it.

Cadence had no clue what her father had propositioned, what he was going to do with her. Give her away to some stranger, some man to do what he wanted with her.

No fucking way, that was my woman. I had claimed her the first moment I saw her. There wasn't anyone who was going to have her pussy, except for me.

She had a body to die for, a cunt that smelled sweet as candy and molded perfectly around my cock, like she was made for me.

There was nothing that was going to keep her from me.

Not even him.

Pressing my hands to my temples, I squeezed my head. This was insane, no woman had ever had such a hold on me before.

When I was around Cadence, my stomach churned, my brain electrified, I could feel every muscle twinge when she got close. Her fucking scent gave me a hard-on, her lips caused my cock to throb, even before she was wrapped around it.

Aside from all that, the thought of anything or anyone bringing harm to her; that made my blood boil.

Grinding my teeth, I stood with one pounce, laying into the heavy bag, wild grunts forced out between breaths. The exposed knuckles now painless and numb as they drove harder.

A subtle clank echoed in the dark hallway. Twisting my head, the soft patter of feet hit my ears.

The double doors opened slowly. A low angelic tone whispered through the crack, “Quinn? Are you in here?” Cadence's face leaned in first, followed by the rest of her.

“What do you want?” I said, cracking another swing into the bag.

Stepping towards the railing she said, “I came to see if you're alright. You left without saying a thing.” Her fingers wrapped the metal bar, leg tilted out twisting on her toe.