3. Hayden
3
HAYDEN
S weat poured down my body, rolling over me and dripping on the mat under my feet as if I were standing in the pouring rain.
“On your toes, Luce! Quit being so damn flatfooted.”
She shook off the coaching but did as I said, bouncing out of the way of my next jab.
“Good! Better!”
Lucia threw a right-left combo at me. I blocked them, returning the favor, pulling my punches. I hated sparring with a woman—any woman. But I especially hated sparring with Lucia. She and I had history. Nothing that made either of us uncomfortable, at least not anymore, but we’d been fuck buddies once, which made me cringe when it came to sparring with her.
I knew for a fact that Lucia could hold her own. I trained her in Muay Thai and Jujitsu myself. And she held a black belt in Aikido, but it didn’t change the fact that punching a woman, especially one I’d fucked, made me feel like a DV perp.
“Quit fucking holding back, asshole!” she yelled at me, dropping her guard.
Seeing my chance to put an end to things, I reached out and grabbed her. At nearly seven feet tall, my reach gave me an advantage that her sub-six feet didn’t have.
“Cheating, motherfucker!” she growled, and I howled with laughter.
Wiggling and twisting, cursing me with every breath, she fought tooth and nail as I took her to the mat, looking for even the smallest advantage. She was a talented fighter, and strong as fuck, despite her size. That was to her advantage. Her greatest disadvantage… she was also stubborn as hell and wouldn’t tap out until injured.
“C’mon, Luce. Tap,” I said as I wrapped her in a submission hold.
I did my best not to tighten the rear naked choke down too hard, but if I didn’t put some pressure on her, she’d never submit.
More struggling ensued. I sighed, tightening my hold further as I slowly arched my back. Her hands curled around the front of my forearms, nails digging in. Her breaths came in short wheezes, and I knew she wasn’t going to submit.
“That’s it. Enough,” I said, rolling us over and onto our knees.
Moving around so I could see her face, my heart plummeted. Tears and snot covered her face.
“Lucia…”
“Don’t you dare fucking apologize. I’m not hurt. I’m pissed.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t feel like an asshole for making you cry.”
I knew what the next words out of her mouth would be.
“It’s not the first time you’ve kicked my ass. It’s also not the first time you’ve made me cry.”
Visions of the first time I reduced her to tears filled my head. It was years ago, before we left the Marines, long before I married him, but I still felt horrible about it, like so many other things in my life.
Throwing off the hair shirt made from all the stupid, idiotic, numbskull shit I’d done in my life, I stood and helped her to her feet.
“I joke about the past, hoping you’ll realize that I don’t hold a grudge, and it’s behind us.”
A deep breath stretched my rib cage, and I nodded. We’d have to disagree about that one, but I wouldn’t say so because she’d chew me a new asshole.
“No comment?”
“No,” I replied simply. “Not as long as you’re positive you’re okay. I’d hate myself if I hurt you, Luce.”
“You hurt my ego, Hay. That’s all. I thought for sure I had you this time.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her. She pummeled my arms and shoulders, yelling, “Shut up!” I yanked her to me, tossed her over my shoulder, and raced to the ice bath. The guys around us burst out laughing. Luce and I giving each other hell was a daily occurrence.
I dumped her in the tub filled with icy cold water. Laughter turned to outraged sputtering and curses, which only made me laugh harder. Ringing from somewhere cut through the atmosphere, but whoever it was wasn’t calling me, so I didn’t pay attention.
“Lucia’s phone.”
Scott’s voice, nearly drowned out by the chaos of our shenanigans, echoed through the gym as he answered.
“Hey, Chief.”
Chief?
Chief Carter?
Conrad Carter?
I reached my hand to Lucia and grabbed her a towel as I helped her out of the icy bath.
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
My attention was still on Scott, but I replied, “I’m aware. Were you expecting him to call?”
“Who?”
“Scott answered your phone and said, ‘Hey, Chief.’ I just wondered if you were expecting Conrad to call?”
“What the fuck is Scott doing answering my phone? And no, I’ve not spoken with Conrad in months.”
She didn’t say it, but I knew she wasn’t much of a fan. She hadn’t ever come out and said why, and I didn’t push. Lucia wasn’t someone you pushed for answers. You had to be satisfied with what info she gave you. There was no wiggle room. Push, and she would clam up like a… well, a fucking clam.
She walked closer to Scott. Curious as fuck, I trailed along behind her.
I’d not heard much out of the chief lately, either. He’d tried his damnedest to get me to join the department when I came home from the Marines. I’d told him I’d had enough of that mindset for a while, but I didn’t want shift work. Not even in law enforcement.
“Here’s Lucia.”
Scott held the phone out to her, and sure enough, Conrad’s name and number showed on the screen. She grimaced but took the phone.
“Conrad?”
Terseness laced her voice. Her attitude toward him had also confused me. Conrad, my dad, and Lucia’s dad had been best friends since we were all little. We’d grown up with him being an honorary uncle.
“Yeah. I can be there.”
Her eyes darted to me and Scott, then to the guys who had gathered around.
“Yeah, they’re all here with me.”
Another pause.
“Let’s see what’s what first. If necessary, I’ll ask them.”
Ask us what?
“I said I’ll be there. If I need to, I’ll ask the others.”
Oh shit. She’s about to lose her cool.
I reached out for the phone, but she swatted my hand away and then said, “Yeah. See you then. Bye.”
She pulled the phone from her ear and smashed her thumb against the screen over and over while growling and mumbling curse words under her breath.
“What’s going on?”
I felt the others move away. They knew to give her space when pushed into this mood. I wasn’t so smart. There was a reason she called me a bull in a china shop.
Lucia stalked off toward the locker room, and I followed her. I didn’t care if she was changing or not. We’d been in the same unit and fucked each other’s brains out on more than one occasion, so it wouldn’t be the first time I’d seen her in the buff.
The locker room door closed behind us, and she turned.
“Can I get some privacy?”
Pursing my lips, I nodded, then said, “As soon as you tell me what’s got your titties in a twist.”
“Fuck you, Hayden.”
“Sweet cheeks, we’ve been there and done that.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“It was the best…”
“Finish that sentence, and I’ll tie your testicles in a knot so tight you’ll never get off again.”
I cringed. She really was in a mood. I contemplated pushing her to see if she’d go for it. It’s not like I was getting any action anyway. My right hand was about it. Well, sometimes I used the left when I wanted a little strange.
Instead, I held my hands up and asked, “What’s the matter?”
“Fucking Conrad wants to talk about hiring us, more specifically, me.”
“What for?”
“Katie’s in trouble, I guess, and they fired her security team.”
“Why’s Kit Kat need a security team?”
Her eyes widened further than I’d ever seen before. Her eyebrows flew up on her forehead, and her mouth rounded.
“Have you been living under a rock? Katie’s famous. Stupid famous. Like nearly a household name famous. She sells out shows in hours of tickets going on sale.”
Her voice grew more and more incredulous as she spoke.
“Doing what?”
Her eyes rolled in her head, and she muttered under her breath.
“She’s a musician, you horse’s ass. Last time I checked, she had several songs on the country music charts.”
“Oh, well, there you have it. I don’t listen to country music.”
The last time I had filtered into my brain. Visions of dancing with him , fucking him, and him fucking me made my dick twitch in my pants, and I sighed. There was no freaking use in going there, no matter how he made me feel, both in bed and out. I’d fucked that up royally, not once but twice.
“Good grief,” she grumbled. “Does her freaking father not talk about her at all with his friends?”
Wow.
“Umm… I don’t know. I’ve not seen or talked with the Chief in a while.”
Years could still be considered a while, right?
“Never mind. I’d tell him to kick rocks if it wasn’t Katie needing the help.”
“Do you even know Katie?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“It was something my mother commented on once. She said on several occasions that it was sad Conrad let Katie’s mother drag his daughter all over the country when he could’ve provided Katie with a much more stable home here.”
“What judge would give a kid to a single man when the mother is present?”
“One who knew the father was a police officer. Especially once he was Chief of Police.”
“Okay, so what does he want from you and us?”
“Going out on a limb? I’d guess he’s looking to replace her security team.”
If what she assumed was true, it would help us get this business off the ground. I just had to keep her from shooting us all in the foot.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Lucia, you know…”
She held her hand up in front of my face.
“Don’t. I do not need a lecture from the bull in the china shop. You wouldn’t know diplomacy if it bit you in the ass. I will bite my tongue and do what I can to secure a contract to protect Katie.”
“Good.”
“But… I will not pander to that man. And… I will make sure he is not who we report to.”
“I’m good with that.”
And I was. I didn’t mind the chief. He, my dad, and Lucia’s father had been best friends and fishing buddies since they’d all served in the Army together, but he liked to treat me like a kid. More specifically, he treated me like a kid, his kid. My dad wasn’t the greatest, especially after my mom died, but he was still my dad, and I didn’t need or want another one.
She pulled her tank top off and dropped it on the bench beside her. “Alright. Get out. I need to shower so I can see what’s what.”
I grabbed her upper arms, yanked her to me, and smacked a kiss on her forehead, leaving her to shower.
The guys were cleaning up the mats and equipment when I returned to the gym. We might’ve all walked away from the Marine Corps, but we still had one another’s backs. And the shit-talking banter still flew fast and furious wherever two or more of us were together.
The friendships I made with Lucia and the guys were my lifeline. One that I clung to with ferocious determination after being discharged from the Marines.
I still don’t remember what happened. I read the reports more times than I could count. All the guys were there when I got hurt, so I had their accounts to fill in the Swiss cheese the knock to the head made out of my brain. But it was as if it had happened to someone else.
A series of unfortunate events dumped my stupid ass out of a chopper. My head struck the chopper’s doorframe on the way out,, which wouldn’t have been as big an issue had I not taken my damn helmet off when I climbed onboard. I’d knocked my goggles loose during the dash to the chopper, and I’d taken off my helmet to check my gear. The next thing I knew, I rolled out the door and fell into the ocean feet first. The height, hitting the chopper, and, according to the guys, my boots smacking the edge of the oil platform’s helipad before I plunged to the ocean below was a recipe for disaster.
Initially, the doctors thought the TBI was my only issue. It was severe enough that they kept me sedated for days and then confined to bed even longer. The real issue, the one that ended my military career, came to light when they got me up and moving: numbness and tingling from the waist down. The scans showed I busted several vertebrae in the fall. Everyone was so focused on my head. The swelling around the fractures disguised just how bad they were.
Those early months were hell on earth. I spent every waking moment rehabbing my brain and, later, my body. I was lucky that I managed to recover at all.
The day the doctor told me a therapist would be by to fit me for a cane and teach me how to get around was the day I knew my life, as I’d known it, was over.
That was also the day I royally fucked myself over. Yet again.
When the official medical discharge came through, I stayed in Cali. The thought of going home to Washington didn’t sit well. Anytime I considered it, I felt like a washed-up has-been.
I was allowed to work, but that was a joke. I was a Recon Marine with a broken back using a cane to get around. There wasn’t much out there for a guy like me with the limitations I had.
So, I moved in with Priest and became a beach bum until he dragged my ass out of the house. I’ll never forget that day. It was the first day since the accident that I felt… not useless.
* * *
“Put your shoes on.”
“What? Why?”
“Because we got invited somewhere.”
“Yeah, man. Not in the mood.”
“Don’t care. Put your damn shoes on.”
As much as I didn’t want anyone to see me hobbling around, I figured it was the least I could do. Priest had been there for me every step of the way. He’d been there the day I got hurt, putting himself in danger to rescue my ass. He’d been there all three times I fucked everything up with Declan, and through every step of my rehab. He’d even taken my ass in when I had nowhere else to go. He put up with all my moods, sleep issues, and nightmares.
I didn’t know where I’d be without him.
So, I did as he asked, wincing and grunting through the pain of tying on a pair of tennis shoes when he refused to let me wear the flip-flops I tried to slide on, to begin with. Then I pulled my ass up into his truck and stared out the passenger window as he drove us wherever he was determined to take my sorry ass.
The truck rolled to a stop, and I scouted the area. You could take a Marine out of the Corps, but you couldn’t take the Corps out of the Marine. We sat in a parking lot of what looked like a warehouse. Black corrugated metal stretched twenty or thirty feet into the air. A single metal door on the short side looked to be the only access point.
“Man, if you want me outta your place, all you gotta do is say so. I’ll pack my shit.”
He stared at me, confusion pinching his face, making him look like the guy from Goonies. “What the fuck are you going on about?”
I waved at the building. “Looks like a kill shack.”
He cracked up. “Get the fuck out of the truck.”
Using the oh, shit handles, I lowered myself to the ground slowly, so the drop didn’t jar my back. Gone were the days of jumping… well, at all. And forget leaping out of anything. I moved like a guy twice my age.
“So, if you’re not gonna off me, what is this place?”
“You’ll see.”
Before we reached the door, it opened. A sweaty, shirtless, sexy fucker filled the hole, muscles for miles and abs to die for. Unable to stop myself, I sucked in a deep breath to hide the flab that covered what had once been a stellar eight-pack. Fuck, I missed being in shape.
“Priest!”
“Angel, man, good to see you.”
“So, is this the guy?”
“Yep. If anyone can get you up to speed, it’s this guy.”
I stared at Priest. What the fuck was he thinking? I could barely get out of the fucking truck without help. I walked with a damn cane.
“Hey, Hayden. Nice to meet ya.”
“Yeah, man, you too. I don’t know what smoke the gunny’s been blowing up your ass, and I might’ve taken a hit to the head that turned my brain to Swiss cheese, but I still have enough faculties to know a pity offer when I see one. So, thanks, but no thanks.”
I turned to head back to the truck. Fuck Priest and his fix Hayden bullshit.
“Hey, Hayden. I don’t do pity. It’s a useless emotion, in my opinion. And fucking degrading. Especially to a trained warfighter like you.”
I wobbled around to face him. “I’m listening.”
“I’m not looking for a sparring partner. I’m looking for a trainer to get me ready for the pros. Someone to watch, observe, correct my shitty form, and help me up my ground game. Think you can handle that?”
I studied him, looking for anything that contradicted his words. Finding nothing, I nodded. “Let’s see what we’re working with, but first things first, watch and observe are the same damn thing.”
Angel cracked up and waved for us to follow him inside.
* * *
Thanks to Angel, Luce, and the guys, especially Priest, I regained my mobility after they pushed me to go forward with the surgery to alleviate some of the residual issues from the spinal fractures. It had taken a long damn time. I wouldn’t ever get back the life I had before toppling out of the chopper, but I was doing as well as I could hope for. And I looked damn good. Maybe not as good as when I was still active duty, but I was happy with the muscle tone and size I’d regained.
“What did the chief want?” Scott asked when he spotted me.
The others followed him over. “A job that could make us. Maybe.”
We’d worked our asses off to get the security agency off the ground. This opportunity to work with a rising star in the music industry was just what we needed. Fingers crossed, Lucia didn’t fuck it up by kicking the chief’s ass.