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

  “Without you telling me what I should or shouldn’t do,” she finished with a lot more calm than she was feeling. “I can’t do this right now, Kyle. I’m going to be late for class.” She walked the rest of the way into the kitchen and pulled a lemon protein bar out of the cupboard. Grabbing her purse and keys off the table, she turned to her brother. “Look. I know this affects you, too, and the last thing I want to do is drag you through my hell all over again. But I don’t know if I can let that bastard walk, not after what he did to Mom and Dad—and me. Every time I look in the mirror I’m faced with what he did.” Subconsciously, she reached up and brushed her fingers over the collar of her shirt hiding the thin white scar across the base of her neck. “Can we talk about this later? I’m going to be late.”

  Kyle nodded and stood. She turned to go, but he caught her wrist and pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Will.”

  “I know you do. I love you, too,” she mumbled, taking a moment to hug him back. “Will you do me a favor?”

  “Anything for you.”

  “Please don’t tell Regan. He isn’t going to take it any better than you did. Whether or not I decide to appeal this has to be my decision. I don’t need the added pressure of one more person trying to talk me out of it. I’ll tell him after I’ve decided.”

  “I just want this to be over for you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Campoli has mob connections and I don’t want you getting on their radar. It isn’t safe. Besides, the only reason that bastard is alive right now is because he’s behind bars. The day he gets out, he’s a dead man.”

  Kyle made the vow to comfort her, but that was precisely one more reason why she’d do everything in her power to see that Sean Campoli never saw the light of day again. Given the chance, there was no doubt in her mind that Kyle would kill him. She couldn’t let her brother sacrifice his life for her—he’d already given up too much. She may want Sean Campoli dead, but not at the expense of her brother. Kyle was the only family she had left, and the thought of him being taken from her was incomprehensible. She’d do everything in her power to protect him—even if it meant protecting him from himself.

  Killing that bastard wouldn’t bring their parents back, and it wouldn’t erase the scar on her throat or the emotional scars that ran far deeper than that. More than anything, she just wanted to move on, to get past this, and she’d thought she had been doing a pretty good job of it—until yesterday.

  The smell of formaldehyde stung Willow’s nose as she hovered over the skinned cat with pins sticking out of it. Numbered slips of paper corresponded to the sixty different muscles she needed to name on her test sheet. This A&P class was going to be the death of her. She wondered if anyone had puked on their exam subject before, and if that might start a domino effect down the table of cats that had unwittingly donated their bodies to science. Kristy was looking a little green over there, and her lab partner, Jennifer, didn’t seem to be faring a whole hell of a lot better.

  “Keep it together, Scott,” Willow’s lab partner, Carson, warned under his breath, shooting her a teasing smile. “Barfing on Bartholomew is not cool.”

  She rolled her eyes. It didn’t help that the jackass had named the poor animal. This was to be their “pet” for the semester. If the thing looked like this now, she hated to see what it was going to end up looking like after months under their tutelage. Thank God Carson had volunteered to do the dissecting. She failed to see how cutting up this corpse was going to make her a better nurse, but it was an effective dieting plan. This smell was going to be in her nose the rest of the day.

  “Shut up,” she whispered, glancing up to give him the evil eye. Couldn’t he see she was trying here?

  He winked, flashing white teeth and a flirtatious grin. With a dramatic sigh she was pretty sure everyone else in the room could hear, he set his answer sheet and pen on the table beside Bartholomew’s tail and dug his hand into his pocket. After grabbing a sour-apple ChapStick, he pulled the cap off with his teeth and reached up with his other hand, cupping her chin.

  “Rookie,” he mocked playfully.

  Willow froze, caught off guard by Carson’s bold touch, but then he raised the scented stick, swiping it right under her nose. She might have been offended he’d taken the liberty, but she was too grateful for the scent of sour apples flooding her nostrils to reprimand him. Thanks to her cocky lab partner, she might just finish this exam, after all.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Carson’s voice echoed down the hall, taunting Willow before she could make her escape into English class. Despite herself, she smiled, stopping outside the door and turning back to face him. Carson was premed and—like so many of them—arrogant and cocksure. He was also handsome, and the guy knew it. He’d been flirting with her since the semester started. Just her luck they’d been partnered together for A&P Lab. She didn’t think for a second that his interest was anything other than skin deep. But if she was being honest, she had to admit it was kinda nice to be noticed for once.

  “So, what? You save Bartholomew from a barf bath and now you want to be treated like a hero—is that it?”

  Carson laughed. “Maybe a little. You could show your appreciation by letting me take you out to dinner.”

  “Sorry.” She grimaced, pressing her hand against her stomach. “I’m on the formaldehyde diet.” She skirted the offer with humor, an effective tactic she often used to let guys down without damaging their egos. And truth? She was still nauseated. But that wasn’t entirely the reason why she didn’t think going out with Carson was a good idea. It wouldn’t be fair to go out with someone when there was zero chance of it going anywhere. Aside from the fact that she was hopelessly in love with Regan, having an overprotective MMA fighter for a brother wasn’t conducive to fostering a long-lasting, intimate relationship with a guy. Well, not if she wanted him to live, anyway.

  But Carson didn’t seem easily deterred as he stood there flashing his prized grin. “Come on. Say yes,” he goaded. “It’s just dinner. It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me.”

  This was true. Now that she thought on it, dinner might be nice. Willow couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out on a date, and that left her feeling sadly pathetic. She was twenty years old—twenty-one in less than two months—and she’d never had a real boyfriend. The devastating grief of losing her parents, her unrequited feelings for Regan, and her overprotective brother formed a trifecta of relationship disaster.

  But she was an adult now, dammit—going to nursing school, getting set on her career path. True, she wasn’t quite ready yet to leave the security of her parents’ home, but that was mostly because she wasn’t ready to part with the memories. That house was the last thing she and Kyle had left of them—those walls had preserved her sanity. But regardless of where she chose to live, she should be going out with friends, dating, and having fun—acting like a normal college student and not some dried-up spinster sitting at home pining for a guy who was never going to feel the same way about her.

  And maybe she could have accepted that truth and made strides to get over her childhood heartthrob if it weren’t for the fact that, wherever she went, Regan was always there. She went to work at the gym, and he was there training. When she was at home, he was there with Kyle playing Call of Duty or whatever else guys did whenever they hung out. The only place he wasn’t torturing her with his gorgeous presence was at school. Maybe Carson had a point. It was only dinner. Perhaps she was taking this, and herself, too seriously. She couldn’t very well get over Regan if she never tried. After another moment of hesitation, she nodded, earning a triumphant grin from her flirty lab partner.

  “Great, I’ll pick you up at six. What’s your address?”

  Crap! Kyle and Regan were having a Call of Duty night at the house. There was no way in hell she was going to let Carson pick her up there.

  “I have to work this afternoon. My shift doesn’t end until six thirty.”

  “So, I’l
l pick you up there?”

  “Wait, no!” She could imagine the bloodshed now: the poor unsuspecting guy walking into a gym full of MMA fighters, announcing he was there to take Willow out on a date. “I need to take my brother to pick up his car after work. Where do you want to go? I’ll meet you there.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. Hopefully his car would be done, and hopefully she could take him to go get it. It was a hassle sharing hers.

  “The Rush?”

  “Sure.”

  “Sweet.” He pulled out his cell and handed it to her. “Type in your number, and I’ll text you so you’ll have mine.”

  She entered her digits, then handed it back to him, feeling a mixture of dread and excitement. Was she really doing this? The part of her heart that belonged to Regan warned her this wasn’t a good idea, but the rebellious part told her seven years was long enough. Maybe it was time to move on. He certainly had no trouble doing it, blowing through vag like it was going out of style. In fact, wasn’t that exactly what he’d planned on doing last night?

  Screw this. She was sick of sitting on a shelf, waiting for Regan to notice her, to choose her. This lady had an expiration date, and today just happened to be that day.

  She handed Carson his phone back, and he fixed her with another one if his award-winning smiles. “See ya later, Willow.”

  As he turned and headed down the hall, her conscience screamed what in the hell are you doing?

  That was a great question. Last night Willow had reached a breaking point—with Regan and with the ghost of her past. The man responsible for her parents’ death was up for early parole, and if she had any hope of keeping him behind bars, where he deserved to be, she was going to have to go before his parole hearing and petition for a denial. Until this moment, she hadn’t been certain she could go through it again. Until this moment, she wasn’t sure she could try to let Regan go.

  Until this moment, she hadn’t decided. I’m claiming my heart and my life back, dammit.

  Chapter 4

  All clear?” Willow called into the locker room, waiting to the count of three before pushing the door open with her back and entering. Her arms were piled so high with towels she couldn’t see over the stack. Thankfully, she’d made this trip enough times she could navigate the lockers and the benches blindfolded.

  She’d just turned the corner and was almost to the towel rack when she collided with a wall of wet, hard muscle. Her startled yelp echoed off the walls, and hands shot out to steady her. Towels flew in the air like a laundry bomb had detonated. With her line of vision clear, Willow’s eyes widened in shock as they met an equally surprised, dark-amber stare. The fighter let go of one of her arms to reach up and remove an earbud. The thing dangled around his thick neck, and she could hear the music blaring from the small speaker. No wonder he hadn’t heard her knock.

  “Whoa . . . you all right, Will?”

  In truth, she was rattled. And standing this close to the tattooed fighter wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his lean hips wasn’t helping. Not that she’d ever regarded Aiden that way, though she knew there were plenty of women who did. The ink sleeving his arms, the steel bar slicing through his brow, the piercing looping through his bottom lip—and oh wow, even his nipples—did nothing to soften his badass appearance. But Aiden didn’t scare her. It was all for show. Aiden “Disco Stick” Kruze was a playboy, and his reputation certainly preceded him with the ladies. But beneath all that fun, wild window dressing, she knew, was a keenly intelligent, calculating man.

  “I . . . I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t think anyone was in here. I called out before I came in.”

  He gave her one of his famous “Disco” grins that had melted many a pair of panties. Had her heart not belonged to another fighter, she doubted hers would have been immune to the beautiful man’s charms. “No worries, kiddo. It was my fault. I was jammin’ on some Papa Roach. S’pose I should be more careful or you’re going to get an A&P lesson you weren’t counting on.”

  She laughed. “I bet it would beat the dead cat I have to keep dissecting.”

  His throaty laughter rang out. “It might, but your brother catches us in here and he’s going to be dissecting my anatomy from my physiology. And I’m rather fond of it right where it’s at, so why don’t you scram and I’ll take care of these towels.”

  She nodded, giving him a grateful smile, and was about to step out of Aiden’s grasp when the door slammed against the wall and a sharp demand cut through the locker room. “What the fuck is going on in here?”

  Her startled gasp echoed as she whipped her head around to see Regan’s accusatory fury glaring down at them. Aiden’s hand left her bicep, both palms coming up in a harmless gesture of surrender. But damn him if amusement wasn’t dancing in those dark-amber eyes.

  “Hey, man, she ran into me. I was just keeping her from a bruised ass; that’s all.”

  “There’s never a ‘that’s all’ with you, Disco,” Regan growled under his breath.

  That comment earned him a scowl and an equally warning glare from Aiden. Was that jealousy sparking in Regan’s eyes? Dare she hope? No, she wouldn’t do that to herself. Not now, not when she’d decided she was going to try to get past this. She was done clinging to meaningless scraps of hope he’d occasionally toss her way like she was a dog under the table. But there was no denying that he was pissed. Regan had always been overprotective of her. That was nothing new. Kyle would be just as livid if he’d walked in and jumped to the wrong conclusion. Aiden’s reputation certainly wasn’t doing either of them any favors right now.

  “I heard you scream.”

  “He startled me. I didn’t know he was in here.”

  Regan’s gaze cut to Aiden. “For crissake, get some fucking clothes on.” Stepping forward, he grabbed Willow’s arm and none too gently hauled her out of the locker room like she was some kid who’d just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  What in the hell was his problem? Regan didn’t manhandle her. Well, he had—once—but she’d been sixteen years old and getting trashed at a party she had no business being at, messing around with a guy who’d had less than honorable intentions. But she wasn’t a kid anymore, dammit, and it was high time Regan realized that and stopped treating her like one.

  “Regan, let go of me!”

  He kept on walking, pulling her along like she didn’t have her brakes on. How humiliating. This was her place of work, and it was important that these fighters respected her. If anyone saw them right now they’d think . . . You know what? It didn’t matter what they thought. She was sick and tired of worrying about what everyone else thought of her.

  “Goddammit, I said let me go! I’m not a little kid, Regan!”

  He did stop—abruptly—spinning on her with that famed lightning speed that made Regan “Rapscallion” Matthews undefeated in the welterweight division. And. He. Was. Furious. But so was she, and Willow wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

  “How dare you come busting into that locker room and strong-arm me, especially in front of another fighter! In case you haven’t noticed, I’m an adult, capable of making my own decisions. You can’t keep playing my brother’s heavy, chasing off every guy that comes near me.”

  “I’m not chasing off every guy. I’m chasing off that guy. Is he really what you want? That guy’s laid more track than a fucking train.”

  “Kind of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?” she snapped, shoving his shoulder. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Aiden already told you. I accidentally ran into him. He was keeping me from falling. That’s all.”

  “You didn’t look like you were in danger of falling when I came in there and found his hands on you.”

  So, that definitely sounded like jealousy, but it didn’t bring the expected thrill of hope this time. It made her short fuse snap, crackle, and pop. It took a lot of nerve to stand there, towering over her like some overbearing Neanderthal. He didn’t want her, so h
ow dare he act like no one else could?

  “You know what? If I did want Aiden, that’s my business. Just like who you fucked after you left my house last night is yours!” She thought she saw him wince. “But I don’t want Aiden. And I think you know full well who I do want. But you’ve made it abundantly clear I’m the only one who feels that way!”

  She turned to walk away, and he snagged her wrist, yanking her back around. If she didn’t know him, didn’t trust him, she would have been scared as hell.

  “You think I don’t feel it?” he roared, his voice booming down the hall. “Believe me, Willow, I fucking feel it! It’s all I’ve felt for four goddamn years! But this can’t happen. You know that as well as I do! Kyle would never allow it, and I can’t lose my best friend over you.”

  “Kyle is unreasonable! He always has been when it comes to me.”

  “Can you blame him? You’re all he has left, Willow. You’ve been his entire life for the past five years. You think he wanted to be a fighter? This was my dream, not his. He saved me when I was a kid, and he saved you when your parents died. He deserves better than to have his best friend start fucking his little sister.”

  She couldn’t believe he’d said it—that he’d actually admitted he wanted her. But it was a victory far more bitter than sweet. Of course he’d say it now, now that she’d resigned herself to moving on.

  Regan had obviously thought this through—well enough that by the conviction in his voice she knew he’d never do anything about it. But still she found herself swallowing her pride and pleading her case, one last time.

  “What about me, Regan? Don’t I deserve to be happy? Must your loyalty to my brother come at my expense?”

  Something flashed in his eyes, like the momentary surprise one felt right before they were sucker punched in the gut. She didn’t see it the way he did, because she’d been in love with him for as long as she could remember. This wasn’t a silly schoolgirl crush, and she didn’t know how to get him to see that.