Doomsday Love: An MMA & Second Chance Romance (5 page)

“Expensive,” he noted.

“I guess.” I shifted on my heels. I needed to take the attention away from my shoes. “So what are you training for?”

His forehead crumpled and he moved away, going for his gloves on the ground and moving to the punching bag only a few feet away. I followed him, hoping he would answer, put the rumors to rest.

Was he a fighter? An
underground
one? He sure was working out hard, doing hardcore shit, if it was just to stay fit.

“Not training,” he muttered as he tugged one of the gloves on. “Just working out.”

“So why was that guy watching you like a hawk when you were punching the bag earlier?” I pointed my gaze to the man that was talking to two boys by the weights.

Drake had both gloves on when I returned my attention to him. He grabbed the bag, positioning it for the heavy blow that was sure to come. “He’s just a serious trainer.” He looked away from me, hesitant as he maneuvered his line of sight from mine to the towel around my neck. “And he’s technically my dad.”

“Oh.” That explained a lot. My eyes traveled to the burly man in the corner again. He was bald, with arms twice the size of his son’s. He wore a tight red shirt, snug around his torso, and had tattoos all over his biceps and forearms. One hoop earring in his right ear.

This time he was spotting one of the boys, a single, thick vein bulging on his forehead. “He seems very… determined.” I tried to phrase his appearance as lightly as possible, but that permanent scowl he wore was really scaring the shit out of me.

He shrugged, but said nothing more.

“Hey… listen.” I stepped forward, gripping the edges of the towel that was draped around the back of my neck. “Um… my friend—Kylie—is throwing a party at her place tonight. I mean, I know you told me parties aren’t really your thing, but she asked me to invite you since you gave me a ride the other night.” He stepped back, smashing his lips together. His reaction made me uncertain, but I continued anyway. “You don’t have to,” I added quickly. “If parties aren’t your thing then they aren’t your thing.” I shrugged, my shoulders dropping in a defeated slump.

“Thought you said you weren’t big on them either…” He quirked a brow.

“I’m not, but she’s my best friend, so it’s pretty much mandatory for me to go.”

“Hmm.” He took off the gloves and adjusted the bandaging around his wrists, picking at the ripped edges. “Got something to do tonight.”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I figured. It’s cool. No biggie.” I dropped my head and started to turn. Why I felt so let down, I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t know him anymore. He didn’t owe me anything.

Why did I want him to come so badly? So badly that I lied about him being invited? Was I that absorbed—that invested— in getting to discover all of Drake’s secrets and truths?

Before I could get too far, Drake’s deep voice rose, and I stopped my walk. “My plans aren’t happening until midnight. I guess I can come for about an hour.”

“Seriously?” Spinning around, I walked as calmly but as quickly as possible back in his direction, doing my best to fight a smile.

He got a kick out of that, watching as my entire attitude shifted from disappointed to delighted. I knew because his mouth twitched in the same way it always did when he didn’t want to reveal those pearly white teeth.

I would never understand why he hated smiling so much. Yes, he still carried traces of that broody ten-year-old kid that hated questions and interacting with the people in our class, but he had a kind smile.

That smile alone would make anyone that was afraid of him suddenly feel at ease when they saw it. Perhaps that was the reason he rarely smiled—because he wanted others that didn’t really know him to remain unsettled while he was around.

“You’re really going to come?” I asked.

“Yeah… unless you don’t want me to.”

“I
do
want you to—” I cut my quick response off and he smirked again. “I just mean… come. Just come. Okay?” I sighed, realizing how foolish I sounded.

Fumbling over my words, repeating things, making myself look like a complete dummy. This had never happened to me before, not even when I sang in front of hundreds of people, on stage.

I’d done beauty pageants and even cheerleading, and never missed a beat at any of it. But when it came to talking to Drake Davenport, I was a total goof. I couldn’t stop the racing of my heart, how my pulse thundered in my ears and life felt almost in slow motion as he neared me.

“I will look for you,” I murmured.

“Okay. Good.”

A loud grunt along with a shrill clank of metal filled the gym, and Drake looked over his shoulder. I looked with him. One of the boys his dad was training had obviously accomplished his benching goal, because he was now celebrating, hooting and hollering with the other boy.

The other boy looked just like him…
wait
…

Oh wow! They were twins? Clearly fraternal, but their trimmed, curly red hair, and blue eyes gave them away. Same height. Similar smiles. Identical arrogances.

“Are you close to them?” I asked.

“My cousins,” he informed me.

“Oh.” I studied his cousins, how arrogant they were as they slapped hands and chanted, still hollering with their deep voices. Everyone was looking their way, everyone except Drake’s dad. He was now looking at us. I snatched my gaze away from his cold, dark glare. “You should bring them with you.”

It took Drake a while to return his attention to me. I started to speak again, but realized he was having a private stare-down with his father… again.

Both of their nostrils were flared, Drake’s jaw locking before he snatched his eyes away and focused on me. “Sure. We’ll be there.” His father said something to the twins and then he started to come in our direction. Drake wasn’t having it. “Go. Now.” His face was serious, his look urgent.

I decided not to be nosy (this time) and nodded as I took off, turning around and hurrying towards the treadmills. Kylie was there, gossiping with Brandy who was on the yearbook committee.

Before I could get too far, I heard his Dad gruffly ask, “Who the hell is she?”

It took everything in me not to look back as he asked that question.

“Don’t fucking worry about it,” Drake muttered between grunts. He was already punching the bag, unleashing anger I had no clue about, but I was certain it had something to do with his dad.

I met up to Kylie, but didn’t barge in or interrupt her conversation. Instead I looked towards Drake. His dad was on his ass again, watching like a hawk but not saying a word.

He was a little closer to him now, and stitched on the chest of his shirt were the same words that were on the fist hanging in Drake’s car.
Dirty Dawg Pit.

Shit, maybe he really was an underground fighter.

“Jen?” Kylie snapped her fingers in my face, stepping in front of me and then peering over her shoulder at Drake. “Gah, what is it with you and this guy?”

I switched gazes between her and him, stealing peeks of his glistening muscles, his solid face and defined body.

“Nothing,” I lied. “I just went over to invite him to your party. He said he’d come… with those twins over there.” I pointed at the twins that were now jumping rope, trying to outdo each other.

“No way!” Kylie exclaimed as we started towards the exit.

“Yeah.”

“Let me guess,” she said as she swung her petite frame around and faced me, walking backwards towards the exit. “He’s coming for you?”

“No.” I forced a laugh, following her out the door. “He’s just coming because I told him you invited him.”

“Wait—hold up. What?” She stopped in the middle of the street, and a car honked at her. She flipped the driver off, and then walked leisurely to the parking lot with me at her side. “Oh my God, Jen! You little sneak.” Her eyes narrowed at me, in a way that proved she could see right through me. She was reading me like a book and surprisingly, I was letting her. “You like him, don’t you?” she prodded, thinning her already cat-like eyes.

“What? No! It’s not even like that.”

“No? So why are you blushing?”

I wished I had a mirror. I felt the heat in my cheeks, the fire in the pit of my belly as she playfully pinched one of my cheeks.

“Yeah,” she laughed, pulling way. “I mean, it’s cool if you do. No judgment coming from my way! What girl doesn’t like a badass? But listen,” she said as we met at her car, “I don’t care if he comes, but if he picks a fight with anyone, you’re handling it. That guy is a real hothead. I refuse to get between a fighter and some loser that tries to challenge him. He won’t be bruising my face. Nope. Not tonight.”

I laughed, sliding into the car as she did. She cranked it, but we sat in the parking lot for a moment. She’d grabbed an empty envelope and pen to create a list of everything she needed to buy for the party. You know, the basics, like plastic cups, more plastic cups, and beer, which she normally got from her older brother, Tate or Trace. Since Trace probably wouldn’t be getting it, she was going to ask her brother. He only lived thirty minutes away.

As she did that, I lifted my head, and to my astonishment I saw Drake walking to his truck. He’d parked at the end of the lot, and behind him were the two rowdy, cocky twins.

They were clearly talking shit to one another, because one of them was pissed while the other laughed. Drake simply ignored them. I guess he was accustomed to their obnoxiousness.

They were so loud, it caused Kylie to look up, and when she saw them, she gasped, her eyes immediately roaming the left twins’ body.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “God must have been feeling great when he created him!”

“The twins?” I asked.

She watched them continue their walk. “God, yes. Especially the one with all that beautiful red hair. Holy shit—” Kylie turned in my direction and gripped my hand. “Did you tell Drake to invite them too?”

“Yes,” I laughed. “I told him he could bring them.”

“Oh, fuck yes! Forget Braxton. I’m totally hooking up with that guy.” Kylie liked serious-looking boys, and the left twin looked to be the solemn, level-headed one, while the other seemed more outspoken and goofy.

As if they sensed us staring, all three of them looked our way, their strides decelerating. The twins looked at Kylie, and she batted her eyelashes as she gripped the steering wheel, not at the right twin, but the left.

They couldn’t tell who she was looking at so they both put on cocky, slanted smiles. Drake happened to look me dead in the eyes, his lips pursed, a fresh sheen of sweat on his face.

My hands went clammy the longer he stared at me, my throat drying out, preventing a smooth swallow. He didn’t look away until he met up to his truck. He hopped inside with the twins doing the same, and sped away from The House.

“What in the hell was that?” Kylie asked, bringing me back down from the clouds. “Oh my gosh! Did you see the way he looked at you? He’s fucking into you, Jen! Wow…” She put the car in Drive and drove away from the gym, laughing. “Yeah, tonight is going to be really fucking interesting. I’m pretty sure I’m going to see a side of you that I’ve never seen before.” She paused, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “You know, I never suspected that you’d be the one to crush on an angry-looking guy like Drake Davenport.”

“He’s a cool guy…”

“Yeah, until he actually becomes angry.”

“Well, no one is cool when they’re angry, Ky.” I waved a hand. “I don’t think he’s that bad.”

“Jen, you’re only seeing what he wants you to see. I’ve heard the stories. I’ve been a witness to the damage. My cousin works at the Dawg Pit and he says all they ever talk about is Doomsday… or as you call him, Drake. He told me about the fights that happened outside of the cages. Brutal stuff, man.”

“That Doomsday name is so stupid,” I muttered, trying to avoid the truths.

“Well, it’s what they call him. And, like I said earlier, I’m sure they call him that for a reason.” She looked at me out the corner of her eye. “I won’t cock block tonight, trust me. But please, lovely, be careful with that guy. If he hurts you, I can’t guarantee to whoop his ass. Hell, he could slaughter me with one thump of his pinky finger.” She burst out laughing, and I laughed with her, but not as hard as she did.

But only because Kylie was right. I knew nothing at all about Drake, but I did know he had a foul temper, a sharp tongue, and that he was born to fight. Raised into it. I could see his father was a huge reason why he’d always been so…
dark
.

As much as I hated what she’d said, I wasn’t going to let it ruin my chances of getting to know him. After all, who was I to judge?

W
hat the hell
was I thinking? Showing up in this fancy neighborhood full of rich, judgmental fucks?

My Ford F-150 roared as I parallel parked at the curb. I gripped the leather wheel, staring ahead at the house on the lake. It was big. And white. And most likely undeserved.

Most people with homes like this either have cheated their way to the top, have had the money handed down to them from a previous generation, or are just running some illegal shit.

Not that I could talk. What I did wasn’t exactly…
legal
.

As soon as I shut the engine off, my twin cousins Oscar and Otto hopped out of the car, already acting like fucking banshees. “Come on, dipshit,” Otto shouted at me through the open door. He straightened the black New York Yankees baseball cap on top of his head and then slammed my door behind him.

Oscar shook his head, and I clutched my keys, stepping out of the truck and marching towards the grill. Just as Otto met up to me, I flexed my jaw and pointed a threatening finger at him. “Slam my fucking door again and I’ll slam your fucking face into it.”

Otto held his right hand up, pretending to make it mimic me. “Yadda, yadda, fucking yadda. I slam the shit every fucking day and you have yet to touch me. Come on now,” he slung his arm over my shoulder, turning me towards the house. The front door flew open and loud music with a heavy bass flooded out. “You don’t have to take your nervousness out on me, Doom. I know that
girl
is here.”

“The one he left the bonfire with?” Oscar laughed as he met at our side. I knocked Otto’s arm off of me and he broke out in a laugh too, now walking backwards to get to the front door.

“Yep. I think her name is Jennifer or some shit like that.”

I cocked a brow at him. “How do you know her name?”

“Read it in the newspaper one time. Her dad owns that Roscoe Waffle company or something like that.”

“Yeah. She’s a rich girl,” Oscar added. “Their waffles are the shit, though.”

Giggling started up behind Otto and he whirled around as two blondes came our way, tittering as they looked up at him.

“Oh, shit.” Otto smirked, watching the girls pass by, his eyes zoning in right on their asses. “Pardon us, ladies.”

They giggled like four-year-old girls. One of them looked Oscar straight in the eye, but they both completely avoided mine.

I knew they wanted to look at me. They
always
wanted to look but were too afraid to do so. All of the girls, except Jenny Roscoe, anyway. She may or may not have been the reason I was there. Because she wasn’t afraid of me.

She’d never been afraid of me.

“Man, we gotta get in there before we miss out on the good pussy.” Oscar marched ahead to meet his brother and they chanted obnoxiously, pumping their fists in the air as they hurried for the front door. They went in without knocking, and Otto shouted, “Come on, Doom!” right before disappearing within the flailing bodies and streaming lights.

I knew I’d already lost them. There would be no easy way of finding them once they’d gotten some drinks. I guess that was a good thing. For now.

I moved forward, shaking my head and sighing as I gripped the doorknob and walked in. The music was louder than I thought. I couldn’t hear anyone talking. I couldn’t hear laughter or shouting or even giggling. There was just music. Loud, thunderous, annoying music.

Shutting the door behind me, I glanced up, peering at the curved staircase. I surveyed the people that were standing on each step. I trusted no one above me. Shit, I hated anyone that looked down at me.

Grimacing at those who stared and whispered, I moved ahead, pushing through the thick crowd full of drunk teenage girls and horny boys trying to cop a few feels.

This kind of crowd reminded me of the late nights at the Dawg Pit, only the Pit was a lot less rowdy and a little more hostile. It was money flapping in the air rather than cups full of cheap beer or tequila.

I heard the DJ at the front of the room shout something into the microphone and then he switched up the song, scratching records and putting on a hype song by Ludacris. The entire crowd went wild.

What did they know about rap? I laughed, just at the mere thought of these spoiled, suburban kids actually listening and dancing to this song. Stepping aside, I pressed my back to the wall, crossed my arms, and took a casual scan of the room.

I don’t know why the hell I was pretending I didn’t care where
she
was, but I really wanted to know.

Was she dancing with another guy?

Maybe saving a dance for me? Not that I would dance with her. I hated dancing… or doing anything other than working out and fighting.

Taking a look around the bustling living room, I stopped near the kitchen door and saw Otto chatting it up with a brunette, a red plastic cup in hand. He had his other hand planted on the wall above her head, his face now going to the crook of her neck as he most likely whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. Talking was pointless. I fucked girls I could cut to the chase with. Seducing and sweet-talking wasn’t exactly my thing.

I looked past him to the kitchen. I spotted Oscar standing there with a clear cup in his hand, chatting with three girls, making them giggle. Three? Dude was a true player. They didn’t call him Wildcard for nothing.

“Just get out!” A shrill voice came from a short distance away, seizing my attention. I turned my head, looking over my shoulder and catching the friend Jenny left the gym with standing in front of the back door.

A guy was trying to get in, his eyes glazed over, jaw locked and fists clenched. Jenny’s friend tried hard to shove him away, but he only moved closer, pressing against her until he was forced on her small frame. His lips attacked hers. She struggled to shove the boy away. I frowned and turned towards the commotion.

Shit didn’t look right.

“Hey, man, I got a text from Flex.” Oscar popped up beside me. He saw me looking towards the arguing couple, and his forehead creased. “What the fuck is going on?”

He watched how the boy ran his hands up and down her waist, how she fought hard to get rid of him. I heard a deep growl come from within Oscar’s throat, and I knew seeing the boy practically rape her with his hands had gotten to him.

“I’m not about to stand here and watch that shit go down.”

He plowed forward, shoving past people to get to Jenny’s friend. Jenny had made an appearance, trying to yank the boy off. The boy grabbed her arm and she wailed from the pain of his vice grip.

Something about the pain that flashed across her face, how fear settled deep in her eyes, seemed to make a small bomb go off inside me. I was down to help Jenny’s friend if shit got worse, but now that Jenny was actually involved, shit switched from 0 to 100 real quick.

I followed Oscar’s suit, rushing forward, not giving a damn about who I knocked out of my fucking way.

We were right there, and the boy looked right at us when we stepped up. Up close he looked a few years older, and when he saw us towering above Jenny, his brows rose with slight amusement and the fucker had the nerve to laugh.

“Who the fuck are they supposed to be? Batman and Robin?”

“We’re gonna be your worst fucking nightmare if you don’t leave her the fuck alone,” Oscar growled. This was Wildcard. The fighter. The one who didn’t fuck around.

The boy laughed. “Get the fuck out of here. This isn’t your situation. She’s my girl. This is
our
business.”

“I’m not your girl anymore, Trace! We’re fucking done. I told you to stop messing with Greta and you go right along and take her to your car? Fuck you, you fucking asshole! I know she sucked you off!”

Bitch Boy clearly didn’t like Jenny’s friend talking back to him. His eyes lit up, the flames bright and fuming, and he stomped her way. Before he could lay a hand on her, I snagged him by the back of his shirt, gripped his arm, twisted it, and slammed his face into the nearest wall.

He groaned, and his body sagged, but he was still conscious—in a lot of pain, I was sure, but conscious.

I gritted my teeth, nostrils flared as Wildcard came to my side. I spun him around, and Wildcard punched Bitch Boy square in the jaw.

“Apologize,” I snapped. “To both of them. Right fucking now.”

“Fuck you,” Bitch Boy hissed.

Wildcard laughed. “Fuck us?” He swung again, landing a blow to his already bloody nose. “I’d advise you to apologize right now or you won’t be living to see tomorrow.” Wildcard started to swing again.

I knew with the rage he always had cooped inside, he’d keep going, so I yanked the boy back and gripped him by the throat, preventing another blow as I shoved Bitch Boy against the wall. “Apologize to them.”

Bitch Boy’s throat worked hard behind my hand, but his eyes quickly averted to Jenny and her friend—Jenny and her friend who looked deathly afraid of us now. They probably thought we’d kill him. Shit, a fucker like him didn’t deserve death. He deserved misery.

“Fuck. I’m fucking sorry! All right?! Damn! Get the fuck off of me!” Bitch Boy tried getting out of my arms but I didn’t release him…not immediately. I waited until I saw tears creep to the corners of his eyes.

I wanted Jenny and her friend to see how much of a pussy he really was—how spoiled fucking wimps like him didn’t deserve to get in their panties.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I snarled, finally releasing him and shoving him away. Bitch Boy Trace stumbled towards the back door, his voice cracking as he shouted, “We’re fucking done, Kylie! Fucking done! You hear me!?”

“Fuck you,
asshole
! I was finished with you first!” Kylie spewed in his direction. When he was gone, her eyes grew cloudy and then her tears fell.

Jenny opened her arms, hugging her friend and cooing to her that it would be okay, shooting me a quick glance.

“Hey, don’t let that fucking loser get to you, all right?” Wildcard said, stepping forward. He was still heated, fists clenched. He still wanted to fight, his temper still on the rise. He was gonna be good for tonight. He was amped. Ready.

Though Wildcard was angry, he still held a softness to him that I never quite understood until we were sixteen. At sixteen I witnessed him beating his father’s face in until no one could make it out. He had his reasons, but that is his story. One I’d vowed never to tell.

Kylie lifted her head, peering up at Wildcard. Admiration overshadowed her gloom, her small features softening, and she pulled away from Jenny. “We just broke up so… I guess it’s just hard to accept right now. Plus I’m kinda drunk… but whatever.” She shrugged in a way that made her seem so innocent and helpless.

But I knew she wasn’t. I could tell she always got her way—that she was the friend that got most of the attention when it came down to her and Jenny. I also knew Jenny didn’t mind that her best friend got all the attention. Jenny wasn’t an attention-seeking person. She was reserved.

“I just thought he was better than that,” she goes on.

“True colors show when someone is drunk or high. And he is fucking stoned, sweet girl.” Kylie blushed and Wildcard’s cheek tilted. A genuine half-smile. “Come on, let’s go get you a drink, forget about that fucking dick.”

“Okay.” She hurried for Wildcard’s side, and he pressed his hand to the small of her back, allowing her to walk before him. I shook my head, knowing just what he was getting at.

Getting laid by an angry girl was easy, especially when she was angry with someone she cared about—even better if she actually loved the guy.

When they disappeared within the wave of bodies, I felt a pair of eyes on me and looked towards Jenny. She had her arms folded, her lips pressed. “Surprised you showed,” she said as she stepped closer.

“Told you I would.”

“Not even five minutes in and you’re already picking fights,” she teased.

“Fuck that guy. He had no right to put his hands on either of you like that.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “He didn’t hurt me.”

“But he could have. He’s lucky we didn’t do worse to him.”

Her mouth moved in a way that made her look naïvely embarrassed. Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to hide her face, but I stopped her, taking a step ahead and catching her gaze.

“I can’t stay long,” I told her. “Have somewhere to be.”

“Right.”

“I came by because I promised I would.” I looked her over in her tight white dress, her cleavage practically on full display. Her hair was curled and her lips were glossed. She looked… fucking amazing. But I would never tell her that. I’d never seen her dressed this way before. Must’ve been the work of her friend.

“Nice dress…but it doesn’t seem like you.” I kind of didn’t like it, but only because I knew other boys would be getting an eyeful of her.

“It’s Kylie’s.”

“So she’s the outgoing one and you’re the conservative?”

“Something like that,” she laughed. “She’s a good friend, though. I love her to death.”

“I see that. You fought for her.”

“She’d fight for me.”

“Good. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Right.” She giggled, sighed, and then shifted on her feet. “Um… I know you have to go soon, but do you wanna grab a drink?”

“Nah… no beer before a fi—” My sentence cut short and her eyes became wide. “I don’t drink before working.”

“Oh. Well how about a water then?” I was glad she didn’t dig or snoop like usual. Her many questions honestly and truly got under my skin. Some I didn’t mind answering. It was the personal ones that made me feel weird as shit.

“Sure. Water’s good.”

She moved ahead, grabbing my hand and leading the way through the crowd. With her grip tight, she walked forward, glancing over her shoulder to make sure I was okay.

Normally being in crowds like this tended to aggravate me, but with my focus on her, it wasn’t so bad. I had something to distract me from the hollering, laughing, and sweaty bodies, like those long, tan legs that stretched up to her perfectly round ass. How her sandy brown curls bounced when she walked.

It was hard not to imagine this exact view if she were to sitting on my cock from behind, bouncing on my lap, making me bust a quick load deep inside her pussy. I sighed before we entered the kitchen, my cock now aching, straining at my zipper.