Doomsday Love: An MMA & Second Chance Romance (30 page)

“
O
H MY GOD
! IT’S HIM! IT’S DOOMSDAY!” The voice that screams is shrill, and as soon as my name is up in the air, all eyes are on me.

Cameras flash in an instant.

Smart phones make clicks and shutter noises.

Girls scream, bouncing up and down in their short dresses.

Men cheer me on, pumping their fists, knowing I would win.

Arms are extended, and I toss a light wave as usual, signing a few autographs here and there. I don’t have much time. I need to make it up to the hotel before Jenny ends up thinking too much and decides to leave.

“Hey, Doomsday! Great fight tonight,” a reporter calls from my left, pushing through the crowd to keep up with me.

“Thanks, man.”

“Hey—what was all that—
oomph
—stuff after you knocked The Slayer out? Were you making a statement to his fans?” The reporter continues to stumble just to catch up.

Hmm.

That’s a good excuse. Maybe they’ll get off my back about it if I use that one.

I see Leo standing at the entrance, swiping a leveled hand across his neck in the dead man’s gesture.

I shouldn’t answer that question.

How the fuck can he even hear? Maybe he can’t, but knows what the guy is asking about.

“Doomsday! Think you can answer me? We loved how you handled that knockout! You won the championship belt. You get to celebrate tonight. What are your plans anyway?”

Talk to Jenny Roscoe. Tell her everything I went through and admit my mistakes.

“Probably party… drink. Gamble. I don’t know yet,” I mumble.

The reporter finally makes it to the doors and catches his breath. “Do you think The Slayer will want a rematch next season?”

I scoff. “I honestly don’t give a shit if he does or not.”

“And why’s that?” the reporter asks, practically shoving his phone in my face. It’s recording everything.

I stop walking, glancing at Leo. He shakes his head, waving his hands for me to reel it in.

I don’t.

I can’t.

I have so much shit to say.

“The Slayer talked trash weeks before the match and now look at him.” I shake my head. “Knocked him out in less than two minutes. I won’t waste your time or mine if a match isn’t worth it. It takes me longer to shit than to defeat the so-called Slayer.”

Everyone laughs at my statement, the reporter included.

“Ah. That’s great, Doom! Thank you! That’s all we needed. You have a great night!”

I bob my head, and when I look over at Leo, he’s clearly frustrated. I finally make it inside the hotel, my security behind me. I’m glad it’s closed off inside.

“What in the hell was that about?” Leo grips my shoulder, spinning me around. “What did I tell you after the fight, huh? Don’t feed into any of the reporters. They’ll ask you questions and spin on them for the media. That means more press.”

“I don’t care,” I mutter.

“Well, you should, man. It was already enough storming out of that cage like that, looking like a fucking raging maniac.”

I chuckle, turning to face Leo and capping his shoulder. “You worried about me, Leo?”

“Hell yeah, I’m worried. If someone asks you the wrong question and you hit them out of blind fury, you’re getting sued. End of discussion.”

“That would never happen. You know I’m not as hostile as I look.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Listen, you have an interview tomorrow morning at the MGM. Eight a.m. for set up. Starts at ten. Make sure you are fucking there, you hear me? Don’t get so drunk to the point that you’re stupid.”

I nod. “Lighten up, Leo. I’ll be there.”

He smirks and nods. “That’s my champ.”

I hear feet scuffling behind me, and before I know it, an arm hooks around my throat and someone has me in a headlock.

I know it can only be one motherfucking person. The only one that has gotten away with something like this for years.

Otto. AKA Raptor.

“You son of a bitch!” He slings himself around to face me, and then shoves me against the chest, a wide grin on his lips. “I did
not
see that shit coming. One minute I’m on the side, shouting for you to handle that shit while dreaming of sucking on some tits tonight, and the next thing I know you’re going at it, man. Kicking and punching the shit out of that Slayer! Now that’s how you win a fight and send a message!”

This guy. Who can’t laugh at him?

“I did what I had to do.”

“Why’d you get all berserk after?” He scratches his head.

I narrow my eyes at the man-bun on top of his head. “I was making a statement.”

He scoffs as I glance at Leo. Leo’s too busy talking on his cellphone. “A statement? Man, shut the fuck up! What kind of statement needs to be made? Everyone knows not to fuck with you!” I take it he didn’t see Jenny in the crowd. Good. I don’t feel like hearing his mouth about it.

He bounces on his toes, laughing like a maniac. “Anyway, listen. I’m headed to the strip club to celebrate that fucking win. You coming? Oscar’s pussy-whipped ass bailed on me.”

“Nah. I can’t.”

He frowns. “Why the hell not?”

“I’m meeting someone in the room.”

In an instant, Otto’s eyes expand. “Oh—holy shit! I get you. I get you. Well, listen, if you happen to jizz too fast while thinking about that beautiful win, call me. I’ll meet you.” He grips my shoulder and I nod with my lips pressed.

“Leo, coming to get your dick twerked on?” Otto steps up to Leo’s side.

“Wish I could, but I can’t, kid. Got a lot of work to do.”

“This guy.” Otto makes a face as he points his thumb at Leo. “Well, fuck all of you. I’m out of here. Oh, and Doom—groupies at 12 o’ clock.” Otto dashes out of the hotel before I can even blink.

And trust me, I know why. These Vegas groupies are no fucking joke.

All of them are women, so we can’t exactly shove them out of the way. They scream so loud when they see me, which causes even more attention.

I’m not like the other fighters. I won’t eat that shit up outside of the cages. It’s pointless.

Dex and Ron step in front of me, holding their hands out to stop them before they can reach me.

“Later, Leo.”

“Have a good night, kid. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up!”

I walk through the crowd of screeching women, all of them shouting their undying love. I spot the elevator and as soon as I reach it, I press the button. I glance back as Dex and Ron try holding them off.

I know they’re relieved as hell when the doors shoot open. I walk into the cart and they follow closely behind. The doors finally close, sealing out the noise.

“Fucking wild,” I sigh.

Dex chuckles.

When we reach the top floor, I make way for my penthouse suite. Preach is standing in front of the door with his arms folded. When he sees me coming, he drops his arms immediately, and his shoulders slump.

Something about the look he gives me lets me know one thing.

Something’s not right.

I open the door hurriedly, rushing in, scanning the room. I have the perfect view of Las Vegas through the wall-to-wall window across from me. Everything is in place.

All is accounted for, except one important person.

She’s not here.

I turn around just as Preach steps in. “Where’d she go?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. She just left.”

“Well, why the fuck did you let her leave?” I bark.

“I couldn’t hold her against her will, boss. You know we can’t.”

“Fuck. I know.” Shit.

My nostrils flare, fists clenching. I pace the room, back and forth. Fuck, I wish I had her number. I wish I knew where she was staying. Why the fuck didn’t I think to ask?

I stop my pacing.

I pick up my phone, but I can still feel Preach watching me. Preach and I are close. I trust him a lot more than my other guards, though I don’t tell them that.

I can talk about my private matters around him. Doesn’t matter if the twins are around—doesn’t matter if I’m boning some broad I met at a party.

He’s around.

I get why he’s looking at me funny, but he won’t ask or speak on it unless I do.

And I won’t.

He won’t get it.

Jenny is… different. I have felt this hole in my chest ever since leaving. I thought for sure it was because Grandma Marie was gone, but no.

I realized that being away from Jenny—the only girl that could take my mind off of the dread—was what was making me hurt.

Making me ache.

I was so fucking stupid.

So young, so rash, but most of all… afraid.

I was afraid of letting her in too deep, but only because I feared losing her too.

I swear I wish I could go back.

I wish things were different.

She ran off because she doesn’t trust me, and she doesn’t want to be put in that situation again. I hurt her, cut her deep, and she has every reason to stay away.

The last thing she said to me was that I broke her heart. Well, I’m here to fix it. And I won’t leave this fucking city until I am given the opportunity.

Those will not be the last words I hear her say to me.

I
barge
into my hotel room, breathing way too heavily. It took everything in me not to leave Drake’s hotel room.

I sat there. I waited. I wanted to talk things through, but then a small slice of fear interrupted and shredded all of that.

I feared the past.

I feared what he’d done to me, and what he could still do to me, if I let him in again. Drake is my weakness, even now, after so many years. I want nothing but him, but I know I shouldn’t be with someone like him.

Someone who broke my heart.

Someone who failed me.

Someone who hurt me so badly.

Someone who is world famous for fighting and winning.

Yeah, that still astounds me. Imagine the complications that could arise now, knowing millions of women in this world want him. They imagine him up close, in their beds, or even between their legs.

I can’t deal with being let down again.

I can’t put my heart in his hands. Actually, wait. I really shouldn’t say that because my heart has been in his hands since I was eighteen. I never got it back.

He held it tight in his clutches. He protected it, but when I needed his care the most, he crushed it. Right in his large hands, he crushed my already-fragile heart.

I don’t know how to stop thinking about that. I know I should give him a chance, but he can’t just barge back into my life, making demands or expecting me to be one hundred percent lenient on this thing.

I am not the same girl he knew. I have changed completely. Honestly, I don’t even know who I am anymore, and that scares the ever-loving shit out of me.

I drop Mitchell’s cross on the nightstand and then make my way to the shower. Shane isn’t here and I’m a little surprised. I thought he’d be a hound, sitting in the room, waiting for me.

I won’t call him. I need a little time to myself. Jesus. My first night in Vegas and people aren’t kidding when they talk about this place. There is so much going on. It’s kind of hard to keep up.

After my much-needed shower, I blow-dry my hair with the hotel dryer. My phone rings on the counter.

I ignore the call, but then it chirps minutes later.

I
stare
down at the screen. For one, I haven’t heard from Mom in years. I haven’t heard from Dad either, but the first thought that crosses my mind is that Dad is sick. Or dead.

I pick up the phone, ready to call back, but I quickly change my mind. I don’t want to talk to them. I don’t care who is sick. Mitchell was sick in the mind and they did nothing about it.

She’s been calling for the past two weeks. I thought she’d give up, but now I’m beginning to wonder if it’s important. This is the first time she’s texted me after a call. Maybe it is…

But I can’t deal with it right now.

I put the blow dryer back and step out of the bathroom. The TV is now on and I gasp as I spot Shane sitting on the bed, watching Drake’s interview that filmed after the fight. I do my best to ignore the sound of Drake’s voice as it rolls out of the speakers.

It’s so familiar—so close. It honestly pisses me off that even during a simple interview his smoky voice can make my belly roll.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I murmur. I grab my suitcase from the corner and pull out some pajamas.

I hear movement behind me and glance back. Shane is now sitting up with his eyes on me. I didn’t notice before, but they are glazed and low. He looks me over as I stand in my towel.

“Where were you?” he asks, his voice gravelly.

“I was with Kylie. I told you.”

“Doing what?”

“We were just doing some sightseeing. Having a little Vegas fun.” I try and boost my voice with the word
fun
but he doesn’t fall for it.

He stands from the bed and walks around the foot of it, stopping only a few inches away from me. “I called you a dozen times, Jenny. Why didn’t you answer the damn phone?”

“It was loud—we were out. Geez, what the hell is your problem? Lighten up a little.”

I turn my back to him, searching for a pair of panties, but before I can sift through my clothes, Shane walks up to me and tightly grips my arm, spinning me around. I wince as he holds onto my arm and drags me towards the bed.

I land flat on my back, and my towel falls down a bit, revealing my breasts. I try to cover them back up with the towel but he climbs on top of me, yanking the cloth away.

“Shane—what the hell are you doing?”

“When I call, you answer, bitch.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Are you drunk?!” I hold him off as much as I possibly can, pushing his hands away after he squeezes my breasts and attempts to run them down my bare body.

“A little.” He sneers.

I shove him away and start to get up. He pounces back on top of me like a wild animal, and with a snarl, he says, “Just be still! I needed you to meet me.”

“For what?” I shout.

“Because I fucking did!” I feel something hard rub across my leg. He’s so hard right now, like he gets off on seeing me panic.

“Get off of me!” I push him back by the chest and move backwards on the bed.

He yanks hard on my hair and then grabs the inside of my thigh to catch me. His thumb presses down when he has me in his grasp. He does it to the point of pain and I cry out, my hand instinctively striking his face.

He looks at me, astounded, and then grips my thigh even harder, just as he grabs my hair and yanks my head back. “Ow, Shane! Stop! Please! Just stop!”

He glares at me for several seconds, his hand still on my thigh. He watches until tears form in my eyes. When they fall, he finally breathes evenly and pulls his hand away.

He snatches himself up, grunting as he storms for the bathroom. I listen to the door slam, scrambling to sit up. My throat works hard to swallow. I swipe the hot tears away from my face and then climb off of the bed, getting dressed rapidly.

As I do, I can’t help but notice the large, round red mark on my thigh. That’s the second mark like this, only it’s not on my arm this time. I had to wear hoodies for weeks just to conceal the bruise that formed on my arm.

I have no doubt that another will form.

We fight and argue a lot. He grabs tight and doesn’t let go until he knows he’s won. And each time, he is always sloppy drunk.

I grab my cellphone with shaky hands and call Kylie right away. I don’t wait for Shane to come back out. I have the handle of my suitcase in hand. I put on some shoes and walk out of the room, so glad the door slams behind me. At least he’ll know that I’m gone.

Kylie answers, and it’s loud wherever she is. “Hey, baby love!”

“Hey—Kylie, where are you?”

“I’m walking the strip with Oscar. What’s up?”

“Are you far from our hotel?”

“No—about a ten minute walk away.”

“Do you think you can meet me here? I’ve decided I want to stay the night in your room.”

She laughs. “Oh, bravo, babe! Bra-fucking-o! I knew you’d come to your senses and ditch that lunatic.”

Lunatic. That, he truly is.

“I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Okay,” I murmur. She has to be drunk, and I’m sort of glad for it. I didn’t want her to catch my silent cry for help as we spoke, but I do need her right now. I can’t stay in that room with him.

God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Shane has money, yes, and I need it right now, but I’d much rather talk to my no-good mother than deal with him anymore.

He’s hurt me twice now. The first time it happened was after a party I attended. He was there with me. We were having a great time at first. Laughing. But then he saw me talking to Pete, a guy in my English class, and got way too jealous. That was the night Kylie was there.

I considered it a mistake and figured he was too drunk to think clearly. I brushed it off and forgave him. But I can’t forgive this. The second time. He did it on purpose.

I saw it in his eyes—his intent to harm me, bring me to the brink of tears.

Asshole.

I make it down to the casino and sit in front of one of the slot machines, in Snoopy pajamas with a glass of scotch in hand. I know people probably assume I’m some alcoholic bum with the way I’m looking right now, but I honestly couldn’t care less.

I wait and wait for Kylie to come—or at least call. Ten minutes my ass. I bet she’s gone ten minutes further instead of coming back towards the hotel.

My phone rings.

It’s Kylie.

“Kylie—where the hell are you?”

“I’m on the way, hun, I swear! I got caught up with this crazy poker game Oscar was in and then Drake wouldn’t let up.”

“Wait—what? Drake?”

She completely disregards my question. “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

I sigh. I’ll ask her about the Drake thing later. “Well, hurry, please. I’m by the slot machines whenever you get here.”

“Okay!”

“You know, Kylie shouldn’t drink so much. She has no type of filter when she does.” A deep voice sounds behind me and I gasp, spinning in my seat.

With my phone still glued to my ear, I focus on familiar green eyes. I’ve seen them so many times in one night, after so many years of seeing them only in my dreams. My breath comes to a slight halt.

Drake stands only inches away from my chair. He looks me over in my pajamas, and I’m surprised his face doesn’t scrunch with disgust. As a matter of fact, he looks amused by what I’m wearing. His Snoop wearing Snoopy pajama pants. What are the odds?

I end the call when Kylie starts going on about God knows what. I have a feeling she’s going to get delayed again, which isn’t a good thing right now because I need her.

“Drake—what the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you, Jenny. Why else?” He takes the seat beside me, placing his elbows on top of his thighs and clasping his fingers. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

I look away, picking up my scotch. He watches me drink it, and that’s when his face scrunches up. Hey, maybe if I keep drinking he’ll continue to be disgusted by the act.

“I couldn’t stay.”

He releases a breath. “Why not?”

“I needed to get back to my room.”

“To your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I snap.

“So you lied to me?”

“I didn’t lie. I wanted you to leave me alone so I told a small fib.”

“So he’s just some guy you fuck around with?”

I ignore his question. As of now, Shane is dead to me, but Drake doesn’t need to know that.

I place my empty glass down and then turn in my seat, grabbing the handle of my suitcase.

“I have to go.”

I stand up and walk away from him to get to the lobby. I have no idea where I’ll go, but it will be better than being in this damn hotel.

Before I can make it to the door, Drake catches me by the hook of the arm and pulls me aside.

His eyes meet mine, his lips so close, his body even closer. We stand in a dimly lit corner, a few feet away from the exit. The people walking in and out don’t notice us. I’m not even sure how Drake made it into this place without being spotted.

Well, actually I take that back. I do know how.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt and baseball cap that he’s practically hiding beneath. His eyes spark as I stare up at him.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone, like you did before?” I mutter.

“I never wanted to leave you alone.” He looks me over, leaning forward, as if to get a closer look. “Jenny, what in the hell happened to you? You can’t say this was all me. You know I loved you—and that I still love you. You didn’t start drinking and putting this guard up for nothing.”

I pull away from him. “Life happened, Drake. Reality finally got its hold of me and it fucking won.”

He blinks rapidly, looking me over. He stares down at my pants. “Why are you in pajamas?”

“I’m comfortable.”

“Do you want something better?”

I frown. “What do you mean? My pajamas are fine.”

“No, I mean, do you want better clothes? We can shop tomorrow. I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

I scoff. “You think you can buy your way back to my heart?”

“No. I think I should start doing whatever I can to make things up to you. Like me being here. You know I had to force answers out of your drunk best friend just to figure out what hotel you ran off to.” He pulls me closer. “I know I fucked up, Jenny. I know. All right? And I’m fucking sorry, but if you don’t let me try, how is that fair?”

I shrug, folding my arms and looking away. It’s not fair to him and I know it. I’m such a stubborn old cow now. God—what
is
wrong with me? I hate what I’ve turned into.

I used to be so lively and free.

I used to love so hard. I pretty much wore my heart on my sleeve.

But now?

The thought of what I’ve become ever since Drake’s disappearance brings the tears boiling to the surface. I stare down at my feet, fighting the emotion, but it’s impossible.

After tonight—seeing Drake again for the first time in years, holding that cross in my hands after so long, and then that altercation with Shane—I just can’t hold the waterworks in anymore.

I am so overwhelmed by it all.

I want to appear strong, but I’m not as strong as I seem. Inside, I am frail and broken and I need to be repaired. I wish Drake could fix me—mend me—but he’s done so much damage already. If he tries, he could end up making things much worse.

I don’t know where I’m going after I leave here.

I can’t go back to that room with Shane.

I don’t have any money for a hotel room of my own.

How is this my life now?

I sniffle and Drake takes a step forward. “Jenny?”

I don’t say anything. The words I want to say catch in my throat. I look up with hot, wet eyes. His face immediately changes, going from serious to sincere.

“Shit, Jenny. What’s wrong?”

I shake my head and wave my hands. “It’s nothing, Drake.”

“Fuck.” I hear him blow a breath. Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he says, “You know what? I don’t give a shit if you put up a fight. You’re coming with me whether you want to or not. I can’t handle seeing you like this anymore. This shit isn’t you.” He turns and walks to the exit. We walk around the building and I spot Bill standing beside the SUV again.