Chapter 7
NICOLETTA
Three days later, the videos of my father still weigh heavy on me. Outrage, disbelief and denial. Although I saw the images with my own eyes and don’t doubt the intel, I’m still having a hard time admitting it to myself.
Sadly, this abuse goes on all over the world, and accepting I was involved with two men who invested in one of the lowest crimes hit me hard.
Abusing and using vulnerable young women—it’s hard to stomach, especially since, over the years, I’ve spent so many hours at the clinic in L.A.
discussing the repercussions of childhood abuse and what it manifests.
Addiction, obesity, damaged egos, some irreparable.
After exposing these men, there will be no going back to my world in L.A. I don’t know what the future holds for Bolt and me, but in talking to Marisol at the gym today, I found out there are plenty of outreach programs right here in Tijuana that need qualified people.
They also enlightened me on the motto of the Royal Harlots—Sisterhood, Strength and Security.
Not that I’m ready to join, but I could definitely get behind their message and the good work they do for the people of Tijuana.
Which makes telling Bolt about the knife all the more important.
I contemplate waiting until after his fight, but the longer I wait, the harder it gets.
“Are you all ready for fight night?” Bolt asks as he saunters into the living room. The man has a definite swagger that gets to me every damn time.
“I don’t know. Never been to any kind of a fight, but I don’t think I’ll enjoy seeing your pretty face busted up.”
“You got nothing to worry about. I don’t let them get that close to me.”
“The first night we met, you had a bruise on your jaw.”
“That was from sparring with Diesel. I was trying a new move, and he nailed me to prove a point.” He puffs out his chest. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Always so cocky,” I tease.
“And you fuckin’ love it.” He wraps his arms around my waist, and I inhale the spicy soap from his shower after the gym.
“There’s something I need to tell you . . .”
There’s a knock, we exchange a look, and Bolt heads for the door with his hand traveling to the gun at the small of his back. “Who is it?”
His question is met with giggling. He looks back at me, and I shrug, praying it’s not another visit from Gina.
Bolt inches the door open, and Maxie, Marisol and Martina pile in carrying bags with an assortment of clothes over their arms.
Martina lays her items on the couch, then turns to Bolt. “We’re here to get your woman ready for her first fight night.”
“So you have to leave.” Marisol points to the door.
“In other words, get the fuck out.” Maxie gives him a shitty grin.
“Geez, you women are bossy.”
“Like your woman isn’t,” Maxie throws back at him.
Bolt’s gaze jumps to me, but he stays silent.
Marisol literally pushes Bolt to the door. “Go downstairs and hang out with your brothers. We may be a while.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’,” Bolt grumbles.
The minute the door is closed, Marisol and Martina jump all over Maxie. “What the hell did you say that for?” they both ask in unison.
“What?” Maxie flicks her gaze to me. “You gonna tell me you’re not his woman?”
I open my mouth to answer, but Martina blurts out, “First of all, it’s none of your business, and how the hell do you know if they’ve even talked about anything like that yet?”
“Oh, c’mon, with the way he’s looked at her the last three days in the gym? Shit, he walks around with half a hard-on.”
Marisol rolls her eyes. “I told you she was the outspoken one.”
“Outspoken, bullshit—I’m just sayin’ what everyone is thinking.” Maxie turns to me. “Shit, are you gonna tell me your panties ain’t damp?” She waves her hand at me. “Probably already done it more than once, and it’s only four o’clock in the afternoon.”
“You know what?” Marisol flips up her palms. “Stop, leave the poor girl alone.”
“Yeah, we’ve got a lot to do,” Martina lays out the clothes over her arms across the couch.
“Twice,” I mumble.
All three women turn to face me. “What?”
“Bolt and me. We’ve actually done it twice today. Once this morning when we were still in bed, then again at the gym.”
Maxie sinks to the couch. “Okay, bring out the popcorn, then I wanna hear every gory detail.”
Martina and Marisol join Maxie on the couch, and they all stare up at me.
“It was when we were leaving the gym earlier. You know that alcove between the women’s and the men’s locker rooms?”
“No shit!” Maxie squeals.
“Amazing,” Martina marvels.
“Yeah, that is a good spot,” Marisol agrees.
Maxie and Martina turn to Marisol. “You too?”
Marisol smiles and nods.
“Wow,” Maxie shakes her head, “the two classiest chicks here are getting down and dirty right out in the open.
“Bolt kinda has a thing about doing it where people might see, and apparently so do I.”
“Unbelievable.” Martina pushes off the couch. “Well, that settles it. Marisol said we had to hold back on your outfit, but girl, we are now going full-out slut.” Martina winks at me. “And, of course, I mean that in a no-judgment way to all of us sluts who aren’t afraid to slut it up.”
After bickering back and forth about the right dress, makeup and hair, then telling Bolt not to dare come back to his own apartment, we are finally ready two hours later.
I stand in front of the only full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door and examine the transformation. It’s amazing what they’ve done. I don’t think anyone from my old life in L.A. would recognize me—and I love it.
“If I didn’t see it I wouldn’t believe it,” Marisol marvels.
“You have a body made for clothes.” Martina waves her hand over me. “Your boobs are small enough for the plunging halter and your legs are long enough for the short leather skirt and low-heeled combat boots—but those ripped fishnets really seal the deal.”
Since the first night I went to that underground bar, I’ve wanted to try out the fishnets, and, of course, these women were happy to oblige.
“Perfection.” Maxie gives me a chef’s kiss, and we all laugh.
The three of them look equally amazing, but I’m not surprised with their toned muscular shapes.
“When Bolt sees you,” Maxie adds, “he is gonna come in his jeans.”
Martina and Marisol roll their eyes, but fact, I can’t wait to see Bolt’s reaction since most of what I packed before I escaped was leggings and exercise clothing. Comfortable and functional for an escapee, but not the sexiest.
Without warning the men, the four of us leave the apartment, then enter the main bar, which is already crowded. Bolt said they always get a big crowd before the fights because, once the fights start, Smoke closes The Tropics down so there’s no competition.
I pick Bolt out at the end of the bar, but I honestly don’t think he realizes it’s me until I get about six feet in front of him.
“Fuck,” he mumbles as I walk into his arms, giving him a deep kiss.
“You like?” I ask.
“Hell yeah. We may not make it to the fight.” He leans into my ear. “Shit, you’re gonna have me coming in my jeans.
“Funny, that’s what Maxie said.”
“Figures. I think those women are corrupting you.”
“Like you said yesterday, I was just looking for a good excuse to be wild, and I found it.”
He nuzzles my neck, then bites the tender skin of my collarbone and pulls back. “Before the Harlots came, you said there was something you needed to tell me.”
“Hey, man,” Diesel grips Bolt’s shoulder, “save all that energy for the ring.
“Don’t worry about me.” Bolt hugs me to him, and I decide to wait until after the fight to tell him about the knife. No sense starting that now when he has to stay on point.
“C’mon.” Smoke jerks his thumb to the back door. “Plenty of time to get your dick wet later.”
“I guess Smoke isn’t telling you to stay away from me anymore.”
“After all your help yesterday, Smoke sees you in a whole different way.”
And I’m seeing a lot of things differently too.
We head outside, and I stop by the side of his Harley. “My skirt is going to ride all the way up.”
Bolt turns with a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, ain’t that a shame?” He holds his hand out to me, I get on, and yup, the tight leather skirt goes thigh-high.
Bolt reaches around and runs his callused palm all the way up my leg. “Yeah, definitely gonna have to recite the alphabet picturing you straddling my bike almost bare-assed.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and snuggle up behind him.
“Ohhh, fuck, now I can feel your nipples drilling into me. You got me fuck-drunk, and I ain’t even stuck my dick in you yet.”
“I’m thinking that means we are going to have a celebration after your win tonight.”
“Ohhh, fuck yeah.”
He lifts the kickstand, throttles the engine and wheels us out of the lot. Once again, the ride is much too short as he pulls into the lot behind the gym.
We dismount, and he pulls me to him, his face serious. “Stay close. As in, don’t fuckin’ move from my side.”
I cock my head, and he adds, “We got plenty of security, but I don’t trust the fuckers your father has working for him.”
We move across the packed dirt to a cage surrounded by bleachers on three sides.
Glaring lights bounce off the metal links as hard rock music blares from the speakers.
People mesh and weave around the area. Men wearing cuts like Bolt with different insignias and women.
Plenty of women in all shapes, sizes and outfits that make mine look discreet.
Bolt stops along the way, doing the male-hug thing and tapping fists with other guys. More than one woman eyes him up and down, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or, he’s so used to the attention it doesn’t affect him. Or being with me is enough.
He angles me toward the first set of bleachers and settles me between Manny and Blood. “I gotta go change and get ready. You stay with them until my fight is over.”
I nod, understanding the full extent of my father’s reach if even these men were cautious.