“Not yet. I have work to do,” I whisper, rubbing the pang she just caused in my chest.
“But when are you coming back to me?”
Holy god, she’s going to be the end of me. “Soon, baby,” I concede. On your birthday. When I want no more bullshit between us, nothing between us. “I’m coming home soon and next time when I leave, I want to bring you with me,” I gruffly whisper. “Just answer me this. Are you my girl?”
“First tell me you’re my guy.”
She misses me.
It’s in her voice, in how she speaks to me.
“Yeah I am, which officially makes you my girl. And, Melanie?”
She’s quiet on the other end of the line, breathing hard.
I add, my voice low but uncompromising, “I’m going to eat YOU UP when I get in. As long as I have breath in me, you’re going to be my princess.”
“Okay, Grey. Then you’ll be my king,” she whispers.
Oh, yeah, she’ll definitely be the end of me. “I thought we said no majesty jokes.”
“It wasn’t a joke,” she counters. Then she adds, “Grey?”
“Yeah?”
“I knew you’d call. This is why I’ll never sell the necklace.”
“I’ll always call, necklace or no necklace. Let it go, baby, and I’ll give you something better.”
I hang up and try to get a grip on myself, but my blood runs hot from talking to her. I remember the first day I saw her screaming for Riptide in the Underground. She was bouncing up and down, clamoring for another man, and I just stood there feeling strangely assured, and a little voice in my head said, This one’s mine. I knew I’d been had in the same way I know when I’ve got my marks in my pocket and a debt slashed—I’d been had.
All of me, part of me, whatever piece of me she wants, she can have.
I’ve got it all perfectly planned.
Two more marks . . . aside from princess. I’ll retrieve the evidence for that second-to-last one in Denver, and I’ll take care of shit that night while the team makes sure the Underground fights are running smoothly. Then I fly to Seattle just in time for her birthday. I’ll surprise her. I’ll get to tell her that no, baby, I wasn’t spawned from the devil, and soon, you’ll actually get to meet my mother . . .
I groan as the first flicker of hope I’ve had in years takes root inside my gut, and I flip around in bed, trying to get some sleep even when I already know I won’t. Not until I know both my girls are safe and sound and with me.
EIGHTEEN
UNDERGROUND
Melanie
The Underground is exactly as I remember.
Crowded.
Noisy.
Stinky.
Nervous about encountering any mean men, but happy about Brooke expecting us, I tug Pandora toward our ringside seats, and that’s when I spot her.
My best friend. Dark hair in a ponytail, skinny jeans, spaghetti-strap top. She’s staring up at the ring as the two fighters work each other to the point of collapse.
“BROOKE!” I call as I start running over, and she leaps out of her seat.
She’s been my best friend since we were old enough to wear halves of a locket that said “Best Friends” and broke right in the middle. Naturally I still have my part in a little box under my bed, but Brooke’s part fell during a sprint and we never got it back. Which is fine, because our friendship itself has never broken. I’ve never fought, loved, or had as much fun with a girl as I’ve had with my best friend, so there’s naturally squealing involved when we hug today after months of separation.
After a tight squeeze, we both push each other back to make a thorough inspection. I want to make sure Mr. Riptide is taking care of my girl, but, holy shit, Brooke looks . . . there are no words for the shine in her eyes and in her hair and in her smile.
“Look at you!” I cry. Shit, of course he’s taking care of her, he freaking adores the Jesus out of her.
“No, look at you!” she counters as she hugs Pandora even though Pandora doesn’t like to hug as much as I do.
Pete comes and greets us as we settle in our seats. He starts chatting up Pandora about his romance with Brooke’s sister, Nora. I loathe Nora, so I’m glad the bitch is in college and away from here. Pete is so good for her, but I secretly hope he’ll fall for someone nicer and sweeter and smarter and break up with her for good. Nora used to be the girlfriend of one of the Underground’s grossest fighters, one with a scorpion tattooed on his big fat head—enough said.
I squeeze Brooke’s hand so that she updates me on everything possible. “How’s Racer? Am I going to get to see him tonight or is it going to be too late?” I demand.
I will never be the first person Brooke turns to now when she wants to cry, or talk something out, or vent, or go out for a run. My best friend is deeply, madly in love with this man who I know would go through hell and back for her—because he already has.
So, in a way, my best friend has a new best friend now. And he’s a husband too, a father to her baby, a lover to her.
But me? My guy likes to f**k me. He says he’s bad for me, but I sense he needs me. I sense he misses me. Is it my gut talking to me, or my silly hopes? All I know for certain is that I’m falling in love and I’m so far in deep now that the sheer gravity of it all makes it seem impossible to stop myself from continuing deeper and harder into this dark, unknown, scary plunge.
God, I’m so f**ked.
Brooke seems to notice I’ve fallen quiet, and I hadn’t realized she’d been watching me intently.