Inked Fighter: Complete Collection (MMA MC New Adult Romance) (13 page)

“Damn it, Regan.” I could feel the sting across my cheek and knew she’d opened the skin. I grabbed her again and slung her over my shoulder while I ran across the highway.

I felt horrible, carrying Claire’s half-naked sister over my shoulder. What else could I do? I had to get her under control. She was lucky no one called the cops.

I got her inside the clubhouse and plopped her down on the couch. Her kinky red hair was a wild red tangle around her mascara-streaked face. The guys stared at the topless twenty-two-year-old girl.

“Hey, stop! Someone get me a t-shirt or something. Hurry the fuck up.”

Perez ran off and got me a shirt. I tried to put it over her head. She resisted, and I felt like I was dressing a baby. It reminded me exactly of how Claire had to struggle with Rose.

“Damn it, Regan, just put the god damn shirt on.”

“How do I know you?” she asked, finally calming down enough to let me pull the shirt over her breasts.

“I’m no one. You’re going to sleep off whatever you’ve taken or whatever is going on in that head of yours and tomorrow Perez will take you home.”

“Why me?” whined Perez.

“Because I said so. You want to question me? Take it up with Martel.”

“Oh man.”

I picked up Regan and carried her to the basement bedroom. When I got her there, she went limp and curled up on the bed. I could hear her crying softly into the pillow. I quickly changed the lock around so she couldn’t escape until she sobered up, or came down from the manic high she was on. Whatever came first.

I closed her inside and went upstairs to get her a bottle of water and some food in case she got hungry or thirsty. I didn’t want to keep her prisoner. This was just better than her winding up in jail. Although she probably belonged there. 

I brought the water and package of chips into the bedroom and put it on the empty dresser. Regan was curled in a ball, sobbing uncontrollably. Her eye makeup was smeared down her face like a black mask. Poor Claire. I couldn’t imagine what they all went through dealing with this. At that moment, I was never happier to be an only child.

After I delivered the food, I clicked off the light and closed the door. I told the guys to watch out for her and left. I probably should have stayed, but I had to open the shop in the morning. I wanted to be gone when Regan came to. She might recognize me, and I didn’t want Claire to know I was at the clubhouse.

Chapter Eight: Claire

It was a foggy redwood coast morning and the air was thick. Even in July we had days like that. It was warm and misty, and Damien and I drove with the windows rolled down, letting the scent of the forest blow through the car.

It had been a week since we’d last seen each other. With our work and my responsibilities at home, we could only see each other a few times a week. I still wasn’t ready for any more than that. I’d been reluctant to start dating in the first place.

I’d made an ass of myself the last time we’d been together. Even though I was drunk, I could remember grabbing his dick under the covers that night. How humiliating. He could have totally fucked me then, but he didn’t. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

When we got to the park, we strolled through a grassy meadow. Damien carried a big blanket and a picnic basket. I wore a long flowing skirt I’d made and a light woven sweater. Damien was in his dark jeans and a thin hooded sweatshirt. The sky was gray and threatening to rain. I didn’t care. I wanted to get outdoors.

I spread the blanket out on the damp ground and we climbed on top of it. His eyes locked onto me with cool intensity, and all I could do was smile at him. I knew I looked like a silly idiot with how much he made me smile.

I’d picked up sandwiches from the Brier Café and filled a thermos with iced tea. Damien spread the food out on the blanket and picked up a sandwich. He stared at my lips and my neck while he ate. I gazed off into the distance, watching the foxgloves sway in the gentle breeze. The mist shifted and came down the hillside to splash over my face. I breathed in the thick air and let it wash over me.

When I looked back at Damien, I found him still staring at me.

“I love this weather. Don’t you?”

“This time of year it’s ninety-five degrees in LA.”

“Do you miss LA?”

“Sometimes.”

“What do you miss?”

“Decent sushi, live music. That kind of thing.”

“Do you ever wish you’d stayed?”

His bright eyes blinked at me while he leaned on one elbow. His face turned serious and distant. I thought maybe he really missed his hometown. Maybe he felt he’d made a mistake coming here, and getting involved with me.

“I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Really? Why?”

“I like the small-town life for the most part. There are things worth more to me than all the ethnic food and hip nightclubs in the world.” He put down his sandwich and took a swig of iced tea.

“What?”

“You.”

My heart throbbed. He leaned forward and brushed his lips gently over mine. Our breaths mingled, hot in the cool misty air. I placed my hand on his face and leaned back to look into his crystal blue eyes.

My growing attachment to him felt confusing. I didn’t want to let myself get hurt. Damien was sexy and exciting. I felt safe with him, but I couldn’t believe he’d really want me. If only I could stop time and push aside all my worries. If only I could just be here and now, with him. It could be so good.

Damien laid his head in my lap and looked up at me. My long chestnut hair fell around his face as I leaned over him. He reached up to tuck a lock behind my ear. I stroked his cheek, gazing into his eyes. He held my gaze, face peaceful and calm. He reached up to caress my cheek.

“We should stay here forever, Claire.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

The air seemed to stand still as the mists closed in around us. A songbird called in the distance, and the scent of the meadow filled my lungs.

“You don’t know what you mean to me,” he said.

“I don’t,” I agreed.

He finally turned away and broke the shared gaze. He sat up with his back to me, looking into the hazy distance. I put my hand on his broad shoulder. His skin was warm under his sweatshirt. He looked over his shoulder and kissed my hand. He sighed as he turned away.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“There’s just a lot going on for me I can’t tell you about.”

“Like what?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

He turned back around and smiled at me with his big goofy boyish smile. It lightened the mood, but questions swirled in my mind. What wasn’t he telling me?

“I just want you to know how much you mean to me. I haven’t felt this comfortable with anyone in a long time. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this way. It feels good. Really good.” He pressed his forehead against mine and wove his fingers through both of my hands.

I stared down at the picnic blanket, not wanting to let his words sink into me. I’d never been in love before, but I knew what it felt like to have a broken heart. I knew what it felt like to be broken. I knew what it felt like to have to keep going for everyone else. When I looked up, he was smiling. Our faces were so close he was out of focus. I closed my eyes.

The feeling of his soft lips pressed to mine shut out the dark thoughts in my brain. He pulled me into his embrace, and his arms held me in a suspended dream. In that dream, everything was right and everything was safe.

Light kisses fell over my face and eyelids and lips, and over my neck. He pulled me into his chest, and I rested my head against his heart. His thumb caressed my lips and cheek, and I put my arm around his shoulder.

“I love you, Claire,” he breathed into my ear.

I almost melted, and my heart leapt from my chest. The thick pounding in my brain must have been my heartbeat. The world around me was like a paused TV screen. What could I say? How could I let myself love someone? There wasn’t enough room in my broken heart to hold him.

“You’ve only known me for a few weeks.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“I know,” I whispered into his chest. “I feel the same way.” Something cracked open in my soul, and I slid my hand up his leg. I could feel the ripples of hard muscle as I caressed his thigh and hip. My hand ran up his chiseled abdomen and over the rise of his defined pecs. I could see his excitement rise under his jeans.

He caught my hand in his and brought my palm to his lips. He kissed it slowly, sucking a breath through his nose. He gathered me into his arms and pulled me up to straddle his lap. My skirt hiked around my hips, and I could feel him hard against the thin layer of my panties. My lips parted and his tongue flicked against mine.

His hand slid inside my sweater and slipped inside my bra. He cupped my swollen breast, and his thumb teased at my nipple. My body poured moisture into my panties, wet against the hardness under his jeans. Holding me tight, he rubbed my body with his hand and kissed me.

I wanted to give in to the burning need inside me. He pulled off my sweater and his mouth traveled down my neck. His tongue slowly slid over my pebbled nipple. I shuddered. He planted his mouth on my breast and sucked, nibbling my nipple with his teeth.

An agonized moan escaped my mouth as his hand gripped my ass, grinding into my throbbing desire. Shivers ran through my body. My skin pricked with goose flesh. He laid me down on the picnic blanket, and sank between my legs. I wanted him desperately and clutched at his shoulders.

His hardness pressed between my legs, and I gasped as he rocked into me. His hot mouth focused on my neck and breasts. He leaned on his elbow and slid his fingers inside my panties. The sensation radiated hot electric shocks through my whole body.

“Wait,” I breathed. “I can’t.” My body throbbed in protest.

He pulled back onto his knees. I smoothed out my skirt and grabbed my sweater to cover myself.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just have to think. You told me you love me. That changes everything.”

“Doesn’t that make it better?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Explain how it doesn’t.”

“Love makes you hurt. I don’t have time to hurt.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Claire.”

“You can’t guarantee anything. I have too many responsibilities. Regan already makes my life a living hell. I have to be strong. That means there’s no room to let love hurt me.”

He lay down on his back and groaned. “Your sister is a mess. You need to get that fucked-up chick out of your house.”

“Damien. That’s none of your business.”

My body shook with agitation. I sprang to my feet and threw the leftover food in the picnic basket. I was livid. How dare he judge my relationship with my sister? We stood in the open field, not looking at each other. I grabbed the blanket from under his feet and tugged it away.

“I can see she hurts you. She makes your life harder. She makes it harder for us.”

“You have no fucking clue! That fucked-up mess is my sister. My
sister
! You don’t know her. You don’t know who she used to be. You don’t know what she means to me. She’s part of me, and I’m never going to dump her out on the street, no matter what she does. No matter how angry I get at her. No matter how much she hurts me. She will get better. My sister is coming back. She will. I know she will!” Hot tears poured down my cheeks. I didn’t want to look at him. I needed to go.

I marched through the field with the dirty blanket slung over my shoulder, clutching the picnic basket. How dare he tell me he loved me? How dare he judge my loyalty to my sister? If he cared, he’d help me get her treatment, not tell me to fuck her over. By the time I got back to the car, my heart had gone black.

Damien slid into the passenger seat, and we drove home in silence. I dropped him off in front of his apartment, and drove away without a word.

When I got home, I found Zoe in the yard with Rose and Bradly. Zoe looked worried.

“What’s wrong?”

“Regan’s acting like a freak. I couldn’t listen to her talking shit about me anymore, so I came outside.”

“It’s time for an intervention. She needs to get back on her meds.”

Zoe laughed bitterly. “How are we going to manage that?”

“I don’t know, Zoe. We need to do something. I know if she tried to manage her illness, she’d be better. She wouldn’t act out like this. She might even be able to go back to school or play piano again. She’s so talented. It’s such a waste.”

The sound of frantic piano music echoed through the house and yard. I looked at Zoe, and she rolled her eyes. I shrugged. We needed help. The piano music stopped abruptly and the door slammed open. Regan stomped down the front walkway and jumped into the driver’s seat of the car. She turned the ignition and backed out of the driveway before I could even make it to the gate. She gave me the finger as she backed away and sped off down the gravel road.

“What the fuck!”

“She must have taken my key,” said Zoe. Her voice was so tight it might snap.

Regan wasn’t supposed to drive. She had gotten a DUI before Mom died and had never renewed her license. I growled. This was a disaster. Without the car, Zoe, Rose, and I were screwed. It was two miles to town. Zoe had to go to work five days a week, and I needed to cart Rose around to pick up groceries and drop dresses off at Dream Weavers.

“Where does she go anyway? She can’t spend all her time at The Clutch,” Zoe said behind me as we walked back inside. It was as if a hurricane had hit the house. My fabric was strewn over the living room floor with a bottle of coke spilled all over it.

“Oh. My. God!” I put Rose in her playpen and picked up the spilled bottle. I pulled my freshly dyed fabric from the floor, flung it in the kitchen sink, and turned on the water. It didn’t matter. It was already stained. I yelled at the sink. Rose whimpered and cried.

I went into the living room. Zoe held Rose and had a sympathetic look on her face.

“I think it’s more than the bipolar,” she said, bouncing Rose in her arms. “She’s been getting worse. I think she’s taking drugs. Like you thought.”

“I know.”