His expression is serious, and I burst into laughter. All of the stress and pressure I’d been feeling from earlier dissolve to a distant memory.
With a small effort, Jonah lifts me from the counter and places me on my wobbly legs. I look down and notice his pants are still around his ankles. He kicks them off and kneels in front of me. One by one, he slips off my shoes so that we’re both standing nak*d.
He pulls me into his arms. “You doing better?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle, remembering the state Jonah found me in earlier. “Guess I just needed the release.”
His body shakes with silent laughter. What is it with his sense of humor? I pull back enough to show him my confusion.
“Guess you got your release . . . twice.”
“Jonah!” I slap his arm and my face flames.
“Ow!” His humor fades and something serious works behind his eyes. “I Hhate seeing you like that.”
“It’s okay—”
“No. It’s not. I can’t wait for this shit to be over. For you to be free of . . .”
I rest my cheek against his chest and sigh. “Me too.”
He reaches over and flips on the shower. The room fills with steam. “Come on. I’ll get you all cleaned up. We have a big day tomorrow.”
“Big day?”
His eyebrows hit his hairline.
My hand covers my mouth as realization dawns.
Tomorrow I meet his mom.
Twenty-six
Jonah
“I think I might puke.” Raven rubs her stomach, a grimace etched into her gorgeous face. She’s made herself sick worrying about meeting my mom. I couldn’t even get her to eat breakfast.
I wonder if any of her nerves this morning are leftover from her breakdown last night. I’d never seen a person go from rat-shit mad to completely unglued. When I overheard her laughing in the bathroom, I realized she’d reached her breaking point. I knew I needed to bring her back—to pull her from her hysterics and place her gently back into her skin.
Her skin.
My dick twitches at the memory of her slowly sliding off that dress, each sliver of delicate flesh, beckoning for my touch—the way her body responded immediately to the slightest brush of my fingers, opening to my unspoken request. Erotic flashes of her legs wrapped around my body flood my mind. Heat radiates from the red marks on my back left by her shoes. Watching the reflection of our bodies tangled together is forever branded into my memory.
A groan bubbles up from my throat, and Raven turns her attention toward me with narrowed eyes, throwing me from my sexy daydream. Her eyes get big at the sound of a mumbled voice over the airport’s loudspeaker.
“What’d he say? Was that it? Did they just announce her flight? I think that’s her flight,” she says, her eyes dart around the baggage claim carousel where we’ve been waiting for the last fifteen minutes.
Raven bounces on her toes like a kid who has to pee. My lips pull up. “Maybe you shouldn’t have had that fourth cup of coffee this morning.”
“She’s not going to like me. She probably wants you with some sweet, homey girl who, you know, bakes or loves scrapbooking, not a car mechanic who can’t even microwave popcorn.” She looks around like she’s mapping out an escape.
“You kick ass with a microwave, baby. Don’t sell yourself short.”
She glares at me, but her mouth ticks with the shadow of a smile.
“Baby, she’s going to love you. Trust me. Now stop jumping around like a f**king pogo-stick and come here.”
I throw my arm over her shoulder and she leans into me. Her muscles relax as my fingers trace along her skin.
“Excuse me, ‘Assassin’?”
A tall, awkward boy in the throes of puberty approaches us.
“Yeah.”
He shuffles his feet and avoids my eyes. He’s taller than Raven, but lanky. His messy brown hair hangs over his black-rimmed glasses. Printed in bold letters, his bright yellow shirt reads Stephen King is my Homeboy. I stifle a laugh.
“I thought it was you.” He flips a pen in his hand. “I’m a big fan. I’ve seen all your fights.” His voice cracks. “That take down against ‘Pit Bull’ Perez in oh-nine was the best I’d ever seen. I know you’re going to beat Del Toro tomorrow.
Raven gasps, and her grip tightens on the back of my shirt.
“I can’t wait to see the look on Del Toro’s face when you hold up that belt.”
You and me both, kid. Pride in my ability as a fighter, and anger for my inability to prove it, battle for dominance in my head.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate your support.” This kid’s got the height and the know-how. From the looks of his worn jeans, ratty shoes, and . . . everything else, I’d guess he gets his fair share of a**holes at school f**king with him. That’s all any good fighter needs. Fuel. “You know your stuff. Any interest in fighting for the UFL?”
“Humph, I wish.” He shrugs and runs the back of his hand across his forehead, making his glasses lopsided. “My mom says I’m too weak for sports.” He scrunches his nose to straighten the frames on his face.
“What are you? About a buck fifty?”
“Just about.”
“You start training, pack on a little muscle. You’d be a perfect welterweight.”
His smile is so big that it looks as if it may break his face. “You really think so?”
“Think so? I know so.”
“Wow. Thanks, ‘Assassin.’” He stares at me, but his glazed eyes tell me he’s in his head. Probably picturing himself as a fighter five years down the road. He blinks. “Oh! Can I get your autograph?”
He hands me a black sharpie marker and turns around, motioning for me to sign his t-shirt.
“Sure, what’s your name?”
“Killian.”
“No shit?” Great name for a fighter.
“Yeah.” The backs of his ears turn bright red. “It’s Irish.”
I write a quick message on the shoulder of his shirt.
Killer Killian,
No one dictates your future but you.
The Assassin
I pop on the cap and hand Killian his pen.
“Good luck tomorrow night.” He stands a little taller, his voice more confident.
“You start training, you hear me?”
He smiles, nods, then turns and walks away.
Raven’s head burrows deeper into my chest. I instinctively pull her closer. Her arms wrap around my waist and she’s no longer bouncing and jittery. “That was sweet. You’re great with your fans.”
I kiss her head. “Yeah, well, they’ve been really good to me.”
But will they ever forgive me for letting them down?
“He seemed pretty confident that you’d win the fight tomorrow.” Her voice is almost a whisper as her arms tighten around my waist.
I school my voice and try to be as convincing as I can. “Look, I don’t want you to worry about this fight. Everything will go as planned. I’ll get another shot at the title in a year, maybe two. It’s just one fight. Okay?” The truth is I’m disappointed I won’t be destroying Del Toro in front of a live audience tomorrow. But in this situation, the prize for losing outweighs the heavyweight title.
I search the room again for my mom. We fall into silence for a few minutes until I spot a familiar smile in the crowd.
“There she is.” I lift my chin in her direction.
“Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh.” It seems Raven’s calm demeanor was nothing more than an intermission. She’s back to bouncing.
“Joey, my baby!”
My mom rushes to us, dropping her bags and throwing her arms around my waist. At a generous five foot five, she’s been hugging me around the waist since I was sixteen. It’s been a few months since I saw her last, but she looks the same: Dark hair without a hint of gray, styled to perfection. Her fashionable clothes, pristine makeup, and designer bag making her seem younger than her fifty-three years. Yep, hasn’t changed a bit.
“Mom. This is my girl, Raven. Raven, this is my mom.”
Pulling back, she takes a side step and grabs both of Raven’s hands. “It’s so nice to meet you, Raven. You’re just as beautiful as Joey described.”
“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Slade.”
“Please, call me Katherine.”
“Thank you, ma’am . . . um, Katherine.”
With Raven’s hands still in her grasp, my mom looks at me. “You did good, son. She’s beautiful and polite.”
“Yeah, she is.” I shake my head. “I still can’t believe you thought I was gay.”
Raven stares at me aghast while my mom shakes her head and smiles.
Dropping her hands, my mom slips her arm into the crook at Raven’s elbow. “Come on, dear. Let me tell you about the time when my Joey was four and he ran around the front yard nak*d pretending to be a superhero called Super Weenie Man.”
“Shit, Ma.”
Raven giggles.
“Watch that mouth, Joey. You’re in the presence of ladies.”
Grabbing her bags, I walk behind two of the three women I love the most in the world.
***
“Jonah, wait up!”
I’m heading into the training center, after dropping my mom and Raven off at my house, when Blake’s voice causes an about face. I have a quick training session and a short meeting I need to wrap up so I can get back to them for dinner.
“What’s up, Blake?”
“Dude, we got problems.”
We’re standing on the sidewalk outside the training center’s doors, and Blake looks around like he’s checking for snipers.
“Ah, shit. What now?”
“Okay, I was at Zeus’s last night and I ended up hooking up with this new girl, Sherry, or Terry . . . Mary?” His eyes go skyward as he scratches his cheek and shakes his head. “Whatever. She mentioned that a guy—”
“Zeus’s? I thought you tagged Camille last night?”
His body freezes. “Camille! I can’t believe you unleashed that crazy . . .” He closes his eyes and rubs his temples as if to organize his thoughts. His eyes open and he glares at me. “We’re gonna talk about that, but first the stripper.”
I nod, unable to manage the smile that is wreaking havoc on my face. It’s not often Blake has issues with girls.
“So, the stripper,” he continues, “told me a guy named Dominick had offered her a job as an escort. I guess she thought that’d impress me.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyway, she told me a few of the girls accepted his offer and—”
“You gonna get to the point where you tell me what the f**k this has to do with me?”
“Dude, listen. And stop interrupting. Shit.” He folds his arms across his chest, hangs his head, and blows out a frustrated breath. “I asked her who accepted his offer. She said she wasn’t sure, but that more than a few were interested.”
“So? I don’t give a shit what Dominick does. As long as he leaves Raven out of it.”
“The new girl told me she overheard a convo in the dressing room. Dominick’s hiring for a special job. One that takes place the night of the fight. At The Mandalay Bay Arena. You think that shit’s a coincidence?”