His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (37 page)

Keep reading for a sneak peek at the first book in Terri Austin’s Irish Brawlers series

The Rules of Engagement

“It’s not too late. We can still turn back.” In the last hour and a half, Jessica McIntyre had voiced those words more than once—at the “L” station, during each train line transfer (pink, red,
and
blue), and again in the cab as it crawled along this dark, lonely stretch of road. Now watching the taxi drive away, its tires pinging and popping over large chunks of gravel, Jess felt the need to repeat herself. “Are you sure this is the right address? Where are all the cars?”

Her friend, April Robertson, didn’t reply. In fact, for the past thirty minutes she’d been blasting Jess with silence—the hostile kind. That, combined with her long-suffering sighs, said she’d run out of patience with Jess’s nervous babbling. Too bad. She should be used to it by now. Jess was a worrier, always had been, and getting stranded in the middle of nowhere didn’t exactly ease her anxiety.

Though there were no signs of life in the empty lot, Jess heard a low-pitched rumble from the warehouse on her right. Voices. Male voices. Which would make sense. How many women attended a fight club in an abandoned industrial graveyard? Not many smart ones she’d guess, yet here they were.

The night air, heavy with humidity and dank from the nearby lake, had Jess plucking the front of her blouse in an attempt to catch a small breeze. As she tore her gaze away from the cab, she glanced down at her phone. A sense of unease sliced through her. “I’m getting zero reception. How about you, any bars?” April still didn’t respond. Huffing out a breath, Jess hung on to her composure by a thread. “So how the hell are we supposed to get home? Hitch a ride? Not happening.”

April rarely worried about life’s boring little details. She left that to everyone else—usually Jess.

When April finally spoke, her words dripped with bored sarcasm. “You can click your heels together, Dorothy. Maybe that will do the trick.” Uh-oh.
Wizard of Oz
jokes. Jess ignored the remark, refusing to take the bait. April liked pushing buttons, forcing a reaction. Jess had learned long ago to choose her battles wisely. Even then, she rarely won. Take tonight for example. April had been adamant about coming to an illegal boxing match, though Jess repeatedly tried to talk her out of it.

Jess was
that
friend—the level-headed one, the sober driver, the emergency contact. She couldn’t, in good conscience, let April fly solo. Now here they both were, stranded, without a ride home. Great.

Jess turned her attention to the looming two-story building. One security light dispelled the darkness, providing enough illumination to highlight spindly weeds framing the concrete foundation. Without windows, the warehouse was a massive black hole, sucking in what little moonlight trickled through the swollen clouds. “Looks like it might start raining soon. No umbrella, no ride.
No bueno
.” Jess should have had a pre-planned exit strategy in place. Normally that would have been a no-brainer, but she hadn’t been on her game lately. A better plan would have been hauling April to the nearest bar, plying her with shots, and pointing out every hot guy in the room. Damn, why hadn’t she thought of that earlier?

Making a last ditch effort to return to the safety of her apartment and all of its wireless capabilities, Jess wagged a thumb over her shoulder. “The cab’s not that far. If we run, we could still catch it. Maybe grab a pizza and call it day? What do you say?”

April pursed her lips and tipped one brow. With her sheer ivory blouse glowing in the darkness and every flat-ironed strand of hair perfectly in place, she appeared effortlessly chic, despite the heat. “There’s an entire warehouse full of men in there who will be happy to give us a ride, but if you want to go, I won’t stop you.” Crossing her arms, she took a step closer to Jess. “Seriously though, if you bitch just one more time, I
will
go south side on your scrawny ass.”

Jess knew the threat was all snark and no bite. From the moment they’d met all those years ago, Jess had immediately seen past April’s armor-like exterior to the gooey marshmallow heart she tried to hide. “You won’t touch my scrawny ass. You love me. Admit it.”

“Huh.” April dropped her arms. “What did I tell you? Admit nothing. You’re never going to make it on your own if you don’t learn some survival skills, girl.”

“Actually, I learned
that
lesson a long time ago from my father. Politicians never admit to anything. Telling the truth is considered professional suicide.” Jess cast a final glance over her shoulder. The nervous tension fluttering in her belly increased as the cab’s red taillights receded, then disappeared from view. There went her last chance of escape. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Because you’re a good friend.”

“Yeah, you remember that.” Jess shoved her phone in her purse. She wouldn’t be needing it for a while.

“As if you’d let me forget. Besides, you needed to get out of the house.”

“I get out every day. It’s called a job.” Working for the admin department of UIC wasn’t the most thrilling gig in the world, but Jess liked the routine. It wouldn’t satisfy her forever, but it worked for right now.

April snorted. “Let me be more specific. You need to get a life. If you didn’t come willingly tonight, I was going to
drag
you out.”

Irritation had Jess frowning—then her mother’s tight-lipped words echoed through her head.
Never frown, dear. They’ll smell blood in the water.
In defiance to that annoying voice, the corners of Jess’s lips dipped further downward, and she refocused on April. “So you orchestrated this whole thing? Lured me out to bum-fuck nowhere on purpose? And I was stupid enough to fall for it.”
You really are off your game.

“I hate to tell you this, but you’re only a couple of posted cat memes shy of pathetic.”

Jess winced.

So what if she’d been a little reclusive lately? It was only natural under the circumstances. Calling off a highly publicized political merger—her wedding—had been traumatic. Now, with her personal and professional life in turmoil, Jess was in the throes of an existential shit storm. April could be a little more supportive. “That attitude’s not helpful. I’m not exactly a hermit, you know. I’m simply taking time to decompress and think about my life.” Or avoid thinking about it. Jess had changed the shelf paper in the kitchen three times and her clothes were no longer organized by season, but by shades. Last night, she’d hung everything according to the color wheel. Okay, maybe she did need to get her ass out of the house.

But until a short time ago, her entire future had been mapped out.
By Derek and your parents. You just went along for the ride.
That was the uncomfortable truth—one that kept her awake late into the night. But at least it had been a plan. Jess liked structure. It made her feel secure, if boring. She wasn’t meant for spontaneity.

“I think you’re hiding,” April said. “You’re scared because you’re a by-the-book person, and your life is a crap pile right now. I get it, but this loner act needs to stop.”

Jess kicked a piece of gravel with the toe of her shoe. “Have you ever thought of becoming a life coach? No? Good, because you’d suck at it.”

April’s brow lifted to new heights as she jabbed a finger at the warehouse. “No one in that building knows who you are, and if they did, they wouldn’t give a shit. It’s time to live your life and stop being so damned worried about what other people think.”

“Easier said than done.” Jess had been instructed from the time she could talk to weigh her words carefully, to think twice about every decision. One slipup—a drunken moment caught on a cell phone or an inappropriate text sent to the wrong person—could cause serious repercussions for her family, meaning her dad’s career and her mother’s reputation. Those ingrained habits didn’t disappear with a new address.

“Jess, my grandmother wheels around an oxygen tank and is recovering from knee replacement surgery.
She
has more of a social life than you. Your dad’s name doesn’t carry any weight here. You’re finally free.”

Free.
As the word sank in, Jess took a deep breath, releasing some of the tension running through her shoulders. She didn’t feel free. She knew she’d made the right choice when she broke off her engagement, and while she didn’t feel guilty, she didn’t exactly feel liberated either. Jess continued to live her life as if she were under a microscope—every move open to criticism and censure. Some days, it seemed like an invisible entity was always peeking over her shoulder, waiting for her to screw up. God, was it exhausting. That’s why she’d left Kansas in the first place, to gain a little breathing room, but it didn’t seem to be working. So when was she going to cut the strings already, start living on her own terms? She’d already blown up her life, had disappointed her parents to the point that her father wasn’t even speaking to her. What more did she have to lose?
Not a damned thing.

“You know what? You’re absolutely right.”

“I always am,” April said.

There was no one here to impress, no one waiting for her to fail, to point out every flaw. Jess was free. So when was she going to start acting like it? “I’m an adult. A grown-ass independent female.”

“Yes, you are.” April bobbed her head in affirmation.

“I can do what I please, and I don’t have to answer to anyone.”

“Preach.”

Jess fussed with her purse strap, jerking it higher onto her shoulder. “And maybe I could stand to loosen up a little. That wouldn’t be so terrible, would it?”

“What are you going to do, have
two
glasses of pinot? It’s going to take a lot more than watching a fight to tarnish that shiny halo. And for your information, we didn’t haul our asses out here just for you. I want to hook up with that boxer I met the other night. He was very hot, and my needs are
real
. I know you’ll never admit it, but under all those Girl Scout badges, you have needs too.”

For the first time all night, Jess laughed. “Yeah, well, I could easily fulfill my needs with a vibrator.” After all, that’s how she’d managed to get through the past year—and that was before the breakup. Derek had been so stressed over his own political future, their sex life had dwindled to one perfunctory lay every few weeks. The kind that didn’t even mess up her hair.

April wagged her finger. “Go in there, find yourself a hot guy. It’s time for
you
to do
you
.” She shoved her hand into her purse and removed a string of condoms. Ripping off a couple, she shoved them at Jess. “Here. Now go forth and be safe.”

“You know I’m not going to do that.” Jess tried to hand them back to April, who refused to take them. With a sigh, she wound up tucking them into the front pocket of her jeans. Hooking up with a random guy had never been Jess’s thing. She wasn’t programmed for casual. She and April had different definitions of cutting loose. To Jess, it meant drinking a shot of straight tequila instead of a light margarita. “Why couldn’t we have scratched your itch back in civilization? I still think coming out here was a mistake. This place is a perfect dumping ground for a serial killer.”

“Do you see any chainsaw-wielding psychos?” April propped her hands on her hips. “I thought you moved to change your life, get a fresh start. In order to do that, you need to lighten the fuck up.”

April was right, though it pained Jess to admit it. After canceling her wedding, she knew she needed to make some serious changes. She just hadn’t figured out the details yet. But being the dutiful daughter, taking the road most traveled—it’d made her miserable. The truly tragic part was that she had barely even noticed how unhappy she’d been.

Moving to Chicago was supposed to be a bold, new adventure. So far, the old cautious Jess had been in charge. She’d spent the last twenty-five years sleepwalking through her life, and she was tired of it. She may not have any answers about her future, but she could be in control of this moment. Right here, right now, she could let go of the past and take charge of her life.

With only the briefest hesitation, she strode to the warehouse. When she yanked open the metal door, grainy, yellow light spilled out into the night, cutting through the darkness. A bellowing roar from the crowd rushed over her.
No turning back.
She glanced at April. “Are you coming or what?”

“Now there’s my brave bitch. I knew she was lurking in there somewhere.” April crossed to the threshold and lightly patted Jess’s cheek, before strutting into the building.

Jess followed, letting the door clang shut behind her. Inside, the temperature dipped only a few degrees, but humidity clung to her skin, making her arms and neck sticky. Despite enormous ceiling fans circulating the ripe air, condensation coated the steel walls and concrete floor. Scrunching her nose, Jess tried to block out the combined stench of alcohol and testosterone. It smelled familiar, reminding her of the frat house parties she’d attended in her college days. But there was nothing collegiate about this crowd.

A few hundred men—blue-collar casual, tatted up, and soaked to the gills—gathered around the raised ring in the center of the room. Holding clear plastic cups of beer, they cheered, booed, and hurled obscenities at the two men fighting.

The boxers didn’t use gloves. They bare-knuckled it, with only white tape wrapped around each hand for protection. That
had
to hurt.

Fighting of any kind made Jess uncomfortable. But as she watched the men box, she was fascinated. She took a few steps toward the ring, her gaze fixed on the fighters. With each brutal punch, she winced in sympathy, yet couldn’t look away.

The energy in the room felt dangerous—violent and unpredictable. Nevertheless, Jess found herself intrigued by the way the two men moved, bouncing from foot to foot, their bodies coiled and ready to spring. There was power and purpose behind each hit.

The boxer in green shorts had a cut above his right eye. Bloody rivulets mixed with sweat and coursed down his face, staining his opponent’s taped knuckles. Jess’s stomach muscles formed a tight knot. She
hated
the sight of blood, but she had to admit, there was something primal about it all. Something honest.