Fighting for Flight (32 page)

“Now you know how it feels to be me.”

His words bring my thoughts back to earlier. As
pissed as I was at Camille, Jonah must feel that a million times
worse facing off with Del Toro. And there’s nothing he can do about
it.

“I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. Wash all this
red lipstick from my hand.” I hold my hand up, and quickly drop it.
I don’t need to wash my hand, I just need a second to shake off my
thoughts and get through the night.

“I’ll go with—”

“No, it’s fine. You’ve got people who want to talk
to you here. I’ll be back before you know it.”

His questioning stare locks on mine, as if he’s
trying to read my thoughts. I avert my eyes, knowing he’ll be able
to if I give him enough time.

“All right, find me when you’re done. Or I’ll find
you.”

“Jonah, I’m fine. Really.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but I take my chance to
leave before he changes his mind. I kiss his dimpled cheek, and
slip from the room.

The maître d’ directs me to the restroom at the
other side of the restaurant. I welcome the distance and take the
time to sort my head. Halfway there, something familiar catches my
eye. I stop mid-step and squint.
No, it can’t be.

Sitting at an intimate table for two is a stunning
woman with long black hair and a shimmering gold dress. She flips
the dark locks in a playful manner, a bright smile lighting her
face. She seems happy and carefree. If I didn’t know better I’d say
she looks . . . in love.

“Mom.”

Raven

It’s been two years since I’ve seen her. Part of me
wants to run to her, hoping the sight of me will make her smile. I
want her to tell me she’s missed me and has been meaning to call,
as most moms would do with a child they haven’t seen in two years.
But I’m frozen in place. Those thoughts are nothing more than the
musings of a neglected child—one who wants what she’ll never
have.

I study her as she sips her wine, her eyes intent on
the john across the table. She tilts her head and smiles. The
softness in her gaze makes my heart pinch with envy.

I’ve never been on the receiving end of her smile.
Her blank stares, those I know. The way her sparkling eyes go dead
when she looks at me, I know that too. And she’s certainly never
looked at me with love. Indifference, yes. Resentment, maybe.

Love? No.

She wouldn’t give me that. But here, for the right
price, she gifts these things to a stranger. He’s paid for it. He
is deserving of it, but not me, not her own daughter.

My breath becomes short. Anger boils my insides.
Tears launch their brutal attack without mercy. This time, I don’t
fight them. I savor the sting on my cheeks as the salty evidence of
my neglect consumes me. I welcome the sadness and desperation as it
spurs on my rage.

I’ve been such a fool. Daydreaming about what might
be. I have no parents. They used each other to create a sick joke
of a human being for their own selfish reasons. I’ve put up with
the neglect and abuse for long enough. No more.

My legs begin a journey my mind hasn’t caught up to.
Before I know it, I’m standing at their table. My eyes lock on my
mom. I sense the curious stare of her date from the corner of my
eye, but I wait. I wait to be acknowledged by her.

It doesn’t take long before her face turns to me
with a polite smile, probably thinking I’m a waitress, and then
falls instantly: blank stare, dead eyes.

No smile for me, mom? What a shocker.

Silently, our eyes locked on each other, my lips
curl.

“Can we help you?” says the john.

I ignore him and speak directly to her. “How could
you?” The acrid tone of my words makes her shift in her seat.

“Raven,” she whispers my name like it’s a dirty
word. Her eyes dart around the room. “I’m on a date. Call me
tomorrow and we can—”

“How fucking could you? You smile at him.” I point
an accusing finger at the john. “But you can hardly stand to look
at me!” My fist slams against their table, shaking the china. “Your
own daughter.”

Eyes on the john, she shakes her head and shrugs as
if to say,
I don’t know what she’s talking about.

Bitch!

“I’m sorry about this, Mark. There must be some
mis—”

“You’re sorry,
Mark
?” My glare swings back
and forth between Mark and my mom. “You’re sorry,
fucking
Mark
? You ruined my life!”

Mark jumps from his chair. “Watch your tone! We’re
having dinner, and if you know what’s best for you, you’ll turn
around and walk out of here. Now.”

I have no intention of walking out of here. Not
without saying what I need to say.

“Did you know, Mom? Did you know what his plan was
for me? Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your dad tell
you that he . . . that he . . .” I can’t bring myself to say it,
but the fear showing in her wide eyes tells me she knew. “He’s come
for me.”

Her hand grips at her throat and her face pales. She
leans to the side, squinting at something behind me. She wants to
avoid what I’m saying. No, not this time.

I get right in her face and point. “You did this to
me. Why? You ruined my life. I wish you never had me!”

Her eyes glisten before they drop to her lap.

“That’s enough!” Mark grabs my arm and pulls
hard.

Unfazed by Marks tightening grip, I intend on
expelling the ugly until they throw me out. “Do you hear me,
whore
? I wish I was never born!”

“Get your motherfucking hands off her,” a low, but
authoritative rumble demands from my back.

Mark’s eyes move to a towering figure behind me
before he releases his hand. I don’t have to turn around to know my
savior as his strong arms wrap around my waist.

The sound of Jonah’s voice and comfort of his touch
trigger a sob from deep in my chest.
He’s here. Thank God.
I
lean into his embrace. I don’t know how much he heard, but his
presence reminds me of what I have and dulls the ache of what I
never will.

“I’ve got you, baby. Let me take you home.”

Home.

Jonah is my home now. He’s the only one who ever
cared enough to fight for me. He’s my family. All that matters now
is us.

Jonah turns me in his arms. I bury my face in his
chest, and let the emotions overtake me. His soothing words are
nothing but background noise to my uncontrollable sobs.

He walks us from the restaurant and back to our
waiting limo. The tears begin to dry as I’m placed into the privacy
of the car. I’m a mess of nerves, anger, and hurt as verbal vomit
flows from my lips like a sorority girl on induction night. Sobs
break with roaring words of devastation as twenty-one years of pain
finally find release.

Jonah’s eyes are wide, watching me kick and scream,
throwing out every curse word that comes to mind. I’m not fully
aware of what I’m saying, but Jonah flinches as the once foreign
words tumble from my lips with ease.

Seconds turn into minutes before my heart rate slows
and my muscles relax. Exhaustion sets in. Jonah slides to my side,
wrapping me in his arms.

“You finished?” His question is tender and laced
with meaning.

Finished crying? Finished with my mom? Finished
fighting my future?

Nodding my head into his neck, he holds me
tighter.

“I should’ve gone with you. I never should’ve let
you leave after that shit with Camille.” He sounds angry with
himself, but none of what happened tonight is his fault.

A new wave of anger flickers at the mention of her
name, but there’s no fuel left to ignite it. I sink deeper into his
embrace.

“Taylor wanted me to be seen in public with her to
promote the Female MMA League. I told him I wouldn’t do it, but I
guess she didn’t like taking no for an answer.” His lips press
against the top of my head. “Don’t think she’ll be hearing no from
Blake.”

Camille up against Blake. She doesn’t stand a
chance.

“I understand. It just caught me off guard. Del
Toro, Camille, my mom . . .”

“Crazy night.”

I nod.

“Feel good? Telling her off like that?”

My face heats, and I’m thankful it’s dark so he
can’t see it; although, he can probably feel it through his
shirt.

“How much did you hear?”

“Everything. You were yelling pretty loud. I’m proud
of you, baby.” His warm hand caresses my arm, reinforcing his
words.

“Proud? I acted like an idiot in there. Made a fool
out of myself, out of you.”

“You stood up for yourself. Let your mom know what
you’ve been keeping inside for way too long. What you did was
really brave.”

Once again, he gives, unknowingly filling my
emotional cup to the brim. And then some.

“Please tell me no one from your team heard. Your
boss? Your publicist? Camille!” My voice grows louder as hysteria
returns.

“Shhh, they had no clue. I went to find you and saw
you leaning over your mom like a bear about to attack. I told the
hostess to give them the message that you were sick and I had to
get you home. Did me a favor. I hate those stuffy dinners, everyone
blowing sunshine up each other’s asses.”

The limo slows to a stop. I peer out the window to
see we’re in Jonah’s driveway. Charlie, the limo driver, opens the
door and Jonah gets out. I hear him mumbling something about not
talking to the media followed by Charlie’s emphatic agreement.
Jonah reaches in to help me out of the car.

“Miss Raven, it’s been a pleasure.” Charlie’s face
looks concerned.

I wipe my eyes and smile. “Thank you, Charlie. It
was nice meeting you.”

Jonah tosses him a thick fold of bills and a chin
lift and guides me to the front door. I beeline it to Jonah’s room
to take off my dress and wash my face.

Stepping into the bathroom, I flip on the light and
recoil at my reflection. Walking closer to the mirror, I tilt my
head and squint.

Holy heck.

Black eye makeup marks channel down my face like a
road map of mayhem. Blotchy red marks on my cheeks and forehead
highlight my bloodshot eyes. I look like a demented prom queen,
minus all the blood. And Jonah held me like this, as I screamed
every cuss word I could think of.

My hands fly to my mouth. He must think I’m a
lunatic.

Words thrown from my hissy fit come rushing back.
The memory of Jonah’s hazel eyes, wide and set on me while . . .
While I made a total fool out of myself.

Hysteria swells in my chest. I roll my lips into my
mouth and force back the maniacal laughter. A fluttering bubbles up
from my chest as I recall my mom’s face when I stepped to her
table. Laughter explodes, ricocheting off the tiled walls. Mark’s
face when he saw Jonah has me doubled over. The sorry sack looked
like he soiled his briefs.

The intensity of what happened sinks in. I muffle my
frenzy into a washcloth, hoping its cool contact will ease the
delirium. My cheeks hurt from smiling and I check out my blurred
reflection. Crazy eyes, bleeding black tears, huge smile. Pure,
certifiable insanity.

I collapse into a torrent of giggles, causing rivers
to stream down my face. Tears born of laughter feel so much better
than those born from pain. My jaw aches, but the howl continues to
tumble from my lips.

My side cramps. I press against the pain and try to
calm down with deep breathing.

It doesn’t work.

My stomach muscles contract as I cackle without
control. The sound fades in waves as I trade oxygen for lunacy.
Is it possible to die of laughter?

I sense movement from the corner of my eye. Jonah is
standing in the doorway, frozen and staring. Without the breath to
speak, I hold up my palm and pray he gets the message.
Yes. I’ve
officially lost it.

“What the fuck?” he whispers.

I shake my head, pleading with him to stop. If he
speaks another word, I’m pretty sure I’ll cough up my kidneys from
laughing.

He tilts his head, studying me. “Are you fucking
kidding me?”

He didn’t listen. I squeeze my eyes shut, and
soundless laughter racks my body.

“I . . . can’t . . . stop.” I manage to get out the
words before another wave of laughter brings me to my knees.

“Baby?” His lips are twitching like he’s fighting
the urge to join me in Crazytown.

He closes the distance between us in two long
strides and he kneels in front of me. His face is fixed in a sexy
half-grin; his eyelids are low and lustful. He grabs my face hard,
not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention. My
laughter dies under the intensity of his stare. Blood races through
my veins and my belly somersaults. Heat blooms in my chest and I
lean in.

“There she is,” he whispers.

My pulse surges with a furious passion that is
anything but funny. Eyeing his full lips, I get closer, pressing my
chest against his. My tongue slowly makes a pass along my lower
lip, preparing for his attention.

“That’s my girl,” he growls before his lips cover
mine.

Exploring his mouth, desire consumes me. I scrape my
teeth along the inside of his bottom lip and swallow his answering
groan. All the emotions from this evening are spiraling together to
fuel the kiss and ramp up my need. I rip through his dress shirt,
buttons bouncing off the marble floor. Pushing it from his
shoulders, I run my hands down his rippled abdomen, digging my
nails in as I go. His hands tangle in my hair to deepen the kiss.
The smell of mint and aftershave permeate the air and seduce my
senses.

His hand trails down my arm, leaving a wake of fire
against my skin. With a gentle touch, he finds the slit of my
dress, pushing the fabric aside at my hip. Still on my knees, I
spread my legs in anticipation. He grips my hip then slides his
hand down to where I need it most. I groan and roll my hips into
his hand.