Grappling for Position (Against the Cage Book 4) Page 16

  “That’s what he says. Maybe it’s true, maybe it isn’t.”

  “I think it’s true. Kyle, he looked terrible.”

  “He’s always looked like shit. That’s what being a drunk will do to ya. Either way, that’s between him and Regan. I don’t want you getting involved.”

  “It’s too late. I already told him.”

  “You what?”

  “Kyle, if you keep yelling at me, I’m going to stop talking to you.”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face as if that would somehow give him the patience he was lacking. Perhaps he was counting to ten because he didn’t say anything for several seconds. When he did speak, it was with an exaggerated patience she knew he wasn’t feeling. “What did Regan say when you told him?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” He gave her an incredulous look.

  “Nope. Well, actually, that isn’t true. He said, ‘Good riddance.’”

  Kyle muttered a nasty curse and was back to scrubbing his hands over his face again. “You shouldn’t have told him, Willow. It wasn’t your place to say anything.”

  Perhaps from his point of view that was true. To him, she probably looked like nothing more than a meddling little sister. “I care about him, too, you know. He isn’t just your friend.”

  “I realize that, Willow. Regan is family. He’s been like a brother to you when I couldn’t be.”

  Oh, God, please don’t say that.

  “You think I’m unaware of how much I’ve failed you? He was there for you, for both of us, when I was too caught up in my own grief to put one foot in front of the other.”

  “God, Kyle, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I just . . . maybe I should have talked to you about it first, but I didn’t want to lie to him. That’s all. He deserved to know the truth, and his dad asked me to tell him he stopped by. I wasn’t trying to undermine your friendship with Regan. And I’m telling you now so you can be there for him. He’s going to need you—maybe not right now, maybe not tomorrow, but soon—and putting all that aside, don’t you ever say that you’ve failed me again. You saved my life, Kyle. You gave up yours and your dreams for me. I’m here right now, pursuing my dreams because of you—because you made that possible. Trust me when I say my relationship with Regan is absolutely nothing like the relationship I have with you.” And that was the closest she was going to come to telling him the truth. “But you can’t expect, after everything we’ve all been through, not to care about him just as much as you do.”

  “You’re right, Will. I’m sorry I yelled at you. You were just doing what you thought was right. That’s always been like you—stubborn, bullheaded.” He gave her a teasing grin to soften the tension between them.

  “Gee, thanks . . .”

  “Eh, it’s not so bad. You do what you believe is right, despite the consequences. There’s something to be admired about that. As long as you live by your conscience, you’ll always make the right decision.”

  Willow wondered if Kyle would still be saying that if he knew the truth about her and Regan. Probably not, and to sit here listening to him sing her praises made her feel like a big fat phony.

  “I gotta go. Now I’m really late.” He got up, set his cup in the sink, and paused as he walked by long enough to drop a kiss on her cheek. “Good luck with your test today. See you at three.”

  “See ya.” Nothing like a healthy dose of guilt to start the day off right. Great . . . Just fucking great.

  “You worried about this exam, Scott?”

  She glanced up from the table and shot Carson an irritated scowl. “Do I look worried?”

  “You look like you’re gonna puke. Bart getting to you already? Here.” He fished the ChapStick out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  “It’s not Bartholomew.” Oh, for crissake, now Carson even had her calling the cat by name. She uncapped the stick and read the label. Crush. Cute. She swiped it above her top lip, and the scent of oranges filled her senses. It smelled just like the soda she used to drink when she was a kid.

  “Thanks.” She handed the ChapStick back to him.

  He shook his head and held up his hand. “Keep it. So, what’s eatin’ you, Scott?” Carson stepped closer, crowding her personal space. Wearing that patented cocky grin on his handsome face, he said, “Don’t tell me you’re still pining away for that MMA fighter. You’re too good for him.”

  “You’re right. She is,” a deep voice cut across the lab.

  Willow’s head snapped up, and she turned toward the door.

  “And she’s sure as hell too good for you. So how about you back the fuck off my girl.”

  “Regan, what are you doing here?”

  He stepped into the lab and headed toward her, coffee cup in one hand and a Bruegger’s Bagel bag in the other. “I stopped by the house this morning to tell you good luck on your exam. Caught Kyle coming back from his run, and he said you’d left early to study. I figured you wouldn’t have eaten and—what the fuck is that?”

  Regan’s feet ground to a halt as he rounded the table and caught a glimpse of the platter of dead cat lying on a cookie sheet between her and Carson. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the disgusted expression on his face, but Carson wasn’t nearly as gracious.

  “It’s a cat,” she replied.

  “Bartholomew,” Carson added. The arrogant lilt in his voice was unmistakable.

  “It’s disgusting,” Regan said, coming around the side of the table to stand between her and Carson. He set the coffee and bagel bag on the clean table behind them and bent down to give her a kiss.

  Had Kyle told him she was meeting Carson here? Was that the reason behind this impromptu visit? Carson cleared his throat loudly behind Regan with an obnoxious “Uh-hmm” that made her want to kick her lab partner in the shin. The look on Regan’s face suggested he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that.

  Okay, time to go. As sweet as this was for Regan to come by with breakfast, he couldn’t stay, or these two were undoubtedly going to have words—with their fists.

  “Thanks for coming by, but I need to keep studying. Come on. I’ll walk you out.” She took Regan’s hand and led him away from Carson. “I’ll be right back,” she told her lab partner, shooting him a quit being your dick self, glower.

  He responded with a who, me? innocent grin she knew was anything but that.

  “Hey, Romeo, anytime you wanna get back in the cage, you know where to find me,” Regan called out as they headed for the door.

  “Lookin’ forward to it!”

  God help her, there was enough testosterone in here to gag a cow.

  “Your lab partner’s a real prick, Willow.”

  “I know. But he handles the dead cat for me, so I put up with him. Believe it or not, he’s not that bad. Don’t let him get to you, Regan.”

  He stopped at the door and pulled Willow into his arms, nuzzling the side of her neck. “It’s not me I’m worried about,” he grumbled beside her ear. “He’s right, you know.” Regan pressed a kiss to that sensitive spot below her ear. “You are too good for me.”

  Goose bumps erupted over her flesh as his warm breath skated down her throat, but it was his words that left her with a bone-deep chill. Was he pulling back, having regrets about them? Was her reluctance to tell Kyle the truth about them eating at him more than she realized? She knew he hated all this sneaking around, but was he reading more into it? Did he think she was ashamed of him, embarrassed to be seen with him? Nothing could be further from the truth, but through the eyes of someone who’d spent his entire life being abandoned and rejected, Regan might not see it that way.

  “Don’t say that,” she whispered, twining her arms around his neck. “You know I love you.” Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him. Willow knew Carson was probably watching them, but she didn’t care.

  Neither did Regan, apparently, because he pulled her closer and gave her one of those soul-searing kisses she felt all the way to her toes—the kind that left
zero doubt who she belonged to. His tongue branded hers, tangling, plunging, consuming. She was pretty sure she heard Carson grumble, “Get a room.”

  By the time Regan let her go, she was light-headed and breathless. He placed one last kiss on the tip of her nose and said, “I love you, sweetheart. Good luck on your test.” Then he sent her back into the lab with a playful swat on her ass.

  “Later, Romeo.”

  Willow walked back over to the table and took her place on the other side of Bartholomew.

  “Why does he keep calling me that?” Carson grumbled. “FYI, your boyfriend’s a prick, Willow.”

  She laughed. “That’s funny. He says the same thing about you.”

  Chapter 18

  Willow hated her birthday, March 21, exactly three days after the anniversary of her parents’ death. No longer did the day represent a celebration of life but the passing of another year she’d been deprived of her parents. This one stung more than the others, though. It was her golden birthday, but she just wanted the day to be over. Instead of a birthday party with presents, she’d taken flowers to their graves and spent the afternoon at the cemetery.

  Kyle hadn’t made any plans with her, and it was just as well. She wasn’t in the mood to be good company, anyway. He knew how she felt about her birthday, and so did Regan, so she wasn’t surprised when they hadn’t gone out of their way to do more than text her “Happy Birthday.” Tuesdays were her days off work, and the boys were training that afternoon. She figured they’d show up at the house sometime after five.

  Exhaling a sigh, she rose from the shady spot on the lush green grass and slipped her shoes back on. Placing her hand on their headstone, she whispered, “I love you, Mom and Dad,” and bent down, pressing her lips against the cool, smooth granite. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears. Failing to hold them back, she brushed the wetness from her cheeks as she turned and made her way back to the car.

  Willow was almost there when her phone went off inside her purse. She was busy digging through her bag, searching for the cell and not paying attention to where she was walking, when she collided with a wall of muscle. She stumbled back, and a hand shot out to steady her.

  “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was walking . . .” Her explanation died in her throat when the man failed to release her arm. A prickle of alarm shot through her veins, kicking her fight-or-flight response into action.

  “Ms. Scott.”

  The man towered over her, but with Willow’s five-foot-four frame that wasn’t a hard thing to do. He was wearing an expensive suit that didn’t quite carry off the look of civility he seemed to be going for. He gave an attempt at a smile that failed to reach his icy-blue eyes that held a chill she could feel frosting through her.

  “Do I know you?” she asked, taking a step back and attempting to extricate herself from his grip.

  “No, you don’t. But I’m here to deliver a message. Mr. Campoli knows about your appeal. You’ve gotten your justice, Ms. Scott. Now let it go.”

  Her justice? Hardly. There was no way in hell she was going to let that bastard walk free while her parents were rotting in a grave. “Let go of me,” she spat, trying again but failing to pull her arm from his grasp.

  “I’m here to offer you a deal. Mr. Campoli isn’t unsympathetic to your loss. He’s prepared to offer you a large sum of money as compensation for your pain and suffering. In return, you will drop your petition against his son’s early parole.”

  Before she could respond, he tugged her even closer. “You’ll take the deal, Ms. Scott, if you know what’s good for you.”

  The chill in his voice turned the blood in her veins to ice. “You can tell Mr. Campoli I said to fuck off.”

  Rotating her wrist against the pressure of the man’s thumb, she jerked her arm down, breaking his grip. She might be small, but Kyle and Regan had spent a lot of time with her in the cage, teaching her hapkido and making sure she could defend herself. She would not be a victim—never again.

  Something flared in his eyes. Surprise? The thrill of a challenge? Grudging respect maybe? She couldn’t tell for sure, but as they slowly dragged over her, they warmed with an interest that left her colder than his glower. His top lip twitched, as if her outburst amused him. “Perhaps I’ll paraphrase, but you can be assured I’ll deliver your message to Mr. Campoli. Good day, Ms. Scott. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon enough.”

  Before she could dislodge her heart from her throat and fire back a response, the man turned and headed the way he’d come, meandering through the headstones as if he had all the time in the world. How long had he been here watching her? The thought sent a shiver of dread racing up her spine. The court date hadn’t even been set yet, and the nightmare was already beginning. She couldn’t tell Regan or Kyle about this. They already didn’t want her appealing. They warned her that something like this could happen. If they knew Mr. Campoli had sent one of his men to threaten her, they’d lose their shit.

  Her phone went off again in her purse, startling her. She hissed an unladylike curse at being so jumpy, pissed off that she’d let Campoli’s goon get to her. She would not be bullied by him, goddammit. Marching to her car, she finally found her cell at the bottom of her bag. “What?” she snapped.

  “Holy hell, Will. What’s your problem?” Kyle’s voice came over the line. “I was going to ask if you could pick me up at the gym, but I think I’d rather take my chances thumbing it.”

  Guilt pricked her conscience. She shouldn’t have barked at him like that. This wasn’t his fault—none of it was. All he’d ever done was love and care for her. She was having a shitter of a day, and that fucker Campoli was just the icing on the birthday cake. Willow wondered where Regan was and why he couldn’t give Kyle a ride home, but she didn’t want to sound like an even bigger bitch for asking.

  “I’m sorry, Ky,” she said, reverting to the nickname she’d called him when they were kids. “Of course I’ll come get you.”

  “Thanks. Would it be all right if I took the birthday girl out for ice cream?”

  She swallowed back the tears clogging her throat and forced cheer into her voice. “Sure.”

  What the fuck was keeping Willow? Regan tied off the last set of balloons beside the “Happy Birthday” banner hanging across the entryway of the gym and glanced at the clock. He wasn’t entirely convinced this was a good idea. Kyle knew she hated her birthday, which was so fucking sad because she used to love it. But that was before. Her parents would tease her and call it her birthday-palooza because she’d always make such a big deal out of it for a good week before it actually happened.

  Now they were lucky if they could get her to go out for ice cream, which had sort of become their tradition now. She always insisted on no gifts, which was hard for Regan to accept because, dammit, he wanted to get something for his girl. But what could he give her that would mean something special without making Kyle suspicious? He’d thought long and hard about it and felt good about his decision.

  “She’s coming,” Kyle told the room full of her friends and MMA family. Aiden was the only one who hadn’t been able to make it.

  Even Coach and Easton had come back for Willow’s birthday. His arm was still in a sling, but other than that, the guy looked good—great, in fact. Regan had never seen him so happy. He’d brought his girl, Katie, Coach’s niece, with him and it was obvious she was the one responsible for this new-and-improved version of Cole Easton. All that dower, hard-ass attitude he was so famous for was just gone.

  Regan heard the front door open and the soft clip of Willow’s steps echoing down the hall. Everyone fell quiet beneath the banner. When she entered the atrium, she came to an abrupt stop, a gasp breaking from her throat as they all shouted, “Surprise!”

  Tears gathered in her eyes, but he couldn’t tell if they were from joy or something else. It wasn’t until the beaming smile lit her beautiful face that he felt like he could take a ful
l breath again. Kyle had called it right; Willow needed this. She raised a shaky hand to cover her mouth as her eyes roved over her guests. Her brother stepped forward to pull her into his arms. “Happy Birthday, Will.”

  A line formed to greet her, and it was hard for Regan to stand back and play it cool when he wanted to be the one at her side, holding her in his arms, instead of sucking it up in the friend zone. He was trying hard not to pressure her about coming clean to Kyle. She’d asked him for a few months, and he’d agreed to give her that. But they were several weeks into this, and he was getting tired of waiting. The burden of guilt was eating at him, eroding his conscience. And he knew Kyle. The longer they waited, the worse this was going to be. He just needed to convince Willow of that, but she was nothing if not stubborn.

  Cole was next in line, and Willow let out this adorable squeal at seeing him standing there. “Cole, you came!”

  She threw herself against him, and he caught her around the waist with his one good arm, lifting her off the ground and spinning her in a circle, chuckling. “Of course I made it, peanut. You didn’t think I’d miss something as important as your golden birthday, did ya?”

  He kissed her on the top of the head before setting her down, and she wiped fresh tears from her cheeks. “I was worried about you.”

  “As you can see, I’m just fine. No worries. I’ve got a great PT. Have you met my girl, Katie Miller?” Cole looped his arm around Katie’s waist and pulled her into his side. Marcus’s niece gave Willow a warm smile and held out her hand. One look at that woman and it was easy to see how Cole had fallen for her. She was gorgeous, with the fresh-faced, homegrown beauty of the Midwest. She reminded Regan a lot of Willow, actually—sweet, wholesome, kind, but with a spark of fire in her eyes that promised she’d be a force to be reckoned with if pissed off.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Willow. Happy Birthday.”

  “Thank you for coming.” She lifted her hands and looked around. “I had no idea Kyle was doing this. Well, it’s great to finally meet you.”