Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2) (7 page)

“Wait. Where was James headed?”

“God, I’m sorry. Things have been so crazy since we left Minnesota that I keep forgetting to keep you up-to-date. Charlie talked him into staying at our place for awhile so he can train with that old boxing legend dude Charlie works with. After what happened between James and Braden the night of the funeral, Charlie thinks it’ll be good for him to get out of town for a few days and focus on something other than Dad’s murder.”

My heart literally skips a beat. James is going to be staying mere minutes from my flat! Suddenly I can’t seem to swallow. “How long does he plan on staying?”

“He didn’t say. Hopefully long enough to get his anger under control.” A small smirk tilts her lips and she nudges me with her elbow. “Don’t worry, he’ll still be there when you fly back tomorrow. I gave him your number in case he needs…anything.”

Eyes narrowed, I set my hands on my hips. “And
why
exactly are you looking at me like a cheeky monkey?”

She releases a nasally laugh. “Give me a little credit, Shar. At the wedding I noticed you two were sweet on each other and I get the feeling something happened between you guys the night we found him in the shed fighting Asher. I’m fine with it as long as you remember how controlling he was with me all those years. You’ve seen how intense he can get and I’ve seen you somehow manage the impossible feat of talking him down. But if you decide to get involved with my brother, you need to prepare yourself for one crazy-ass ride that doesn’t come with brakes. He takes the well-being of everyone in his life seriously and won't back down for anything. I’m not totally convinced you’re up for someone like that.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what to say to you right now. I’m not about to ‘get involved’ with someone who is merely in town for a few days on holiday.” Not exactly true considering what already took place in Minnesota, but it would seem the words need to be spoken aloud as a reminder to myself more than anything. “And if you believe for one moment that I’d give up my flat in Brooklyn Heights to live on a ranch, I must insist you have your noggin examined for leakage.”

Evelyn’s maddening smile refuses to fade when she shakes her head. “We both know I have no business dishing out advice on relationships, but I know from experience what happens when two people who are right for each other feel a mutual attraction. It’s almost impossible to stop something like that. Who knows? Maybe the two of you would be good for each other. The rest of the details might work themselves out if it’s meant to be. You remember how convinced I was that I couldn’t have a meaningful relationship with someone famous.”

Dante’s large frame makes a return appearance in the doorway, effectively putting an end to what’s transpiring to be the most awkward conversation of my mostly uncomplicated existence. “Time to go, ladies.”

As we’re escorted inside the stadium, the pain from Evelyn’s sharp fingernails digging into the back of my hand are enough of a distraction from my own crises to remind me she’s living one of her own. The roar of the crowd and squeal of an electric guitar are deafening as Dante shows us to our spots beside the stage. We barely make it in time to see strobe lights flickering through a smoky haze, revealing Charlie’s silhouette emerging from beneath the stage pit.

The bloke was clearly born for this the way he dominates the stage, flashing his million-dollar smile and moving around with a sexy ease as the crowd howls in approval. Even in a casual T-shirt and jeans it’s easy to see why he’s the fantasy of every American woman possessing a pulse.

I feel like a jealous cow when watching my best friend’s eyes glaze over with the sight of her husband ripping into his guitar as he starts crooning one of his latest hits. Once Evelyn adjusted to the pitfalls of being with a fit rockstar, the complications of their relationship were a mere hiccup in the grand scheme of things. At least they were both in the same timezone when it all began.

As much as I’d fancy a fair go with James, there’s far more than distance getting in our way. I imagine loving someone with severe mood swings would be exhausting, and I don’t know that I have what it takes to be in a controlling relationship. No matter, every nook and cranny of my body still manages to tingle with memories of our two stolen nights at the hotel. The severity in those eyes, the way he touched me—the mere memory of it all is enough to properly soak my knickers. What harm could there possibly be in having a little fun together while he’s visiting Brooklyn?

W
hen Charlie suggested
the night of Dad’s funeral that I spend a few days in New York training with Manny Gibbs, I almost said yes on the spot. I’d do anything for another shot with Sharlo. But I told him I’d think on it.

Then I saw Sharlo leaving a little while later and went on my phone to buy a plane ticket. The idea of not seeing her again for months or even longer drove me fucking insane. If nothing else, I want another chance to legitimately make it up to her for acting like a nut-case. I finally had the chance to be with her and I fucking blew it.

The sex was explosive both times. Maybe even the best I’ve ever had. But while I was slamming into her like an animal, she watched me with this confusing look that wasn't quite pity but was nowhere near longing. Then the way she said goodbye outside of Roadrunners…I should’ve told her I didn’t want her to leave.

The ride from JFK to my sister’s place blows me away with every turn. Even though I grew up in a small town, I’ve been to enough sporting events and concerts in St. Paul and Minneapolis that I’m comfortable driving in big cities. But whenever I think I have a decent feel for how life must be for Ev and Sharlo to live in Brooklyn, something completely unexpected happens. The private driver Charlie hired has an engineering degree but can’t find a job. My sister’s neighborhood, something I pictured as being chaotic since it’s a part of the city, seems relatively quiet as we roll through the stone streets framed by budding trees. The rockstar’s pad I figured would be over-the-top and extravagant ends up being tasteful and inviting like somewhere I could live.

And then, after dropping my duffle bag in the spare bedroom and giving the place a thorough once-over, I answer a knock on the front door to find a small blonde covered in tattoos with nose and eyebrow piercings, clutching a brown paper bag and flashing a timid smile.

“James, right? I’m really sorry to hear about your dad.” She hands me the paper bag and slips inside, leaving a trail of citrus-like perfume. When she turns back to me, her bright green eyes slowly drag across my chest before settling on my face. “I’m Hope. I used to be your sister’s boss at the bar, now I’m just a good friend. She asked me to stop by and introduce myself in case there’s anything you need. I just live like a dozen blocks over. I brought you one of Leona’s legendary burgers since I knew Ev left here in a hurry and there wouldn’t be anything in the fridge.”

Though she’s hot and her personality is almost as outgoing as Sharlo's, she doesn’t do anything for me, and I just want to be left alone so I can go to sleep. The lack of attraction has everything to do with the British beauty I haven’t been able to shake from my thoughts.

“I just got here,” I tell Hope, sticking my free hand in my pocket and peering into the bag. The burger smells delicious and makes my stomach growl, reminding me I haven’t had anything since breakfast. I look back at her behind furrowed brows. “I was just going to watch a little TV before going to bed.”

Her sweet lips curl with a smile. “How about I join you?” Acting like she’s done it a million times, she breezes into the kitchen and grabs two beers from the fridge. “There’s a local band playing tonight at Leona’s if you’d rather stay up. You could experience some of the local culture and see where your sister spent a few months of her life.”

“Not interested,” I say as she hands me one of the beers. When she looks surprised by my bluntness I clench my fist, ashamed by my impatience. “Sorry. It’s been a rough week.”

The anger I’ve been carrying around since finding Dad hasn’t eased up other than the few stolen moments with Sharlo. It itches just underneath my skin, waiting to be unleashed. I have to control it or Hope might think I’m the kind of asshole to get violent with women. “I start training early in the morning,” I add with a tight smile, hoping to somehow soften the blow.

“Totally understandable,” she answers quietly.

Not surprisingly, she doesn’t stay much longer and I’m in bed by ten.

When I agreed to come out, Charlie mentioned he didn’t think it was wise for me to get involved with Sharlo because if things went south, it would make things awkward for everyone. After several hours of tossing and turning, I wonder if he’s right or if I should fight for her. Then again, Sharlo’s too good for someone who’s unable to get a handle on his emotions. When she returns from California, maybe it’s best if I apologize, then leave her alone. But with the thought of her running around LA, surrounded by sophisticated guys who can appreciate her beauty, I’m unable to sleep much at all.

* * *

I
’m
up at five to run a few miles down the path I mapped out before grabbing groceries from a little corner store down the block. After making breakfast I catch a taxi to Queens, eager to start training. The recently renovated gym has a sawn-wood smell and rustic vibe with barn wood walls and industrial ceilings that are a welcoming sight. It’s like something I’d see back home. But I feel a little out-of-place when I notice everything from the punching bags to the ring are state-of-the-art. Cupp’s shed looks like child’s play compared to this joint.

“James Kendall?” a scratchy voice asks.

I pull in a sharp breath as the boxing legend who once claimed the heavyweight title stands at the doorway of an office across the room, looking shockingly elderly and frail. The money I borrowed from savings already seems well spent when Manny comes forward and I’m in the presence of his greatness.

The dark skin around his eyes crinkles when he offers a genuine smile. “Not what you were expecting? I’ve aged, same as everyone else, though I suppose boxing can take a toll on a person.”

I close the distance between us to shake his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

Manny’s dark eyes widen and a grin tilts his wide lips. “Charlie mentioned you were a big guy. How much do you weigh, son?”

“Two thirty on a good day.”

“All muscle, I imagine. Looks like you take good care of yourself.” He pats me in the gut hard, making my muscles tense, and laughs. “Let’s get you in the ring and see what you’re made of.”

By noon, my muscles are burning and Manny’s praising me on every move. At his direction, I punch, split, and block with everything I’ve got. I’m on my feet all morning, later sparing with some kid who hardly looks old enough to go without training wheels. He’s a decent enough fighter, but not able to keep up at my level. About the time Manny’s ready to call it a day, my blood is pumping and my heart’s racing. I’m ready for more.

“You show a lot of promise,” he tells me, clapping me on the shoulder. “It’s been a long time since someone at your caliber came through here. You’ve got some of Ali’s skills the way you can float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. Won’t be more than a couple of days before there’ll be amateurs swarming the place, hungry for a piece of you.”

The compliment goes over my head when the mention of a butterfly has me thinking about Sharlo and those thick lashes.

“Becoming a professional just may be within your reach one day if you keep at it. You’ve got a wicked cross and not many heavyweights have your speed or ferocity.” Manny dips under the ropes, then turns back to me. “Keep up with the cardio and watch what you eat. I’ll arrange for a match against someone significant in your weight class. I imagine there’ll be boys biting at the bit for a chance once word gets out.”

“Anyone else I can spar in the meantime?”

“Should be a few guys from the club in and outta here the next few days.” His lips tighten as he shakes his head. “Just don’t wear yourself down too much. Charlie told me what happened to your dad. I’m really sorry, son. That kind of thing can’t be easy to take. Anger's a good thing in the ring, but you're gonna have to keep it locked down so it doesn’t control you. Find something that calms you—I don’t care if it’s yoga or pottery classes, just stick with it.”

With images of Sharlo naked under me, I nod. My head’s a fucking mess.

I spend the rest of the day in the gym, going a few rounds with a couple mid-sized guys who give me a run for my money, and lifting weights until it’s dark out and I’m all alone. By the time I’m back to my sister’s place, exhaustion has washed over my muscles and my body feels as if it’s made of lead. I manage to make myself a sandwich and stand inside an ice cold shower a few minutes before going to bed and fantasizing about Sharlo, then passing out cold.

* * *

T
he next two
days are pretty much the same. Early run, taxi to the gym, work my ass off until I’m too exhausted to stand upright. Manny isn’t there the second day, but I find a bigger guy to spar with who’s more my speed and able to get a few good hits in.

Hunter has been good about keeping me up to date on the FBI’s involvement, and one of the agents on the case called the day before with more questions about the night I found Dad. I’ve never felt so fucking frustrated in my life, waiting as they try to find a suspect. Spending every waking hour focused on improving my technique and going at it until I’m hardly able to stand only partially works in keeping my mind off the bullshit back home.

A few texts from Hope inviting me out and offering to stop by go unreturned. I’m not interested in adding the complication of a woman into my life. If I were, I’d be doing whatever it took to include Sharlo. But since she hasn’t made an attempt to contact me through Evelyn, I wonder if she’s given up on us.

My fourth night in the city, I’m stripped down to my boxers and ready to call it a night around nine. Since immersing myself in the boxing world, I’ve been able to forget about Sharlo for the most part, but I was aware on a subconscious level that she’d be flying to LA to meet up with Evelyn sometime today. And more than likely she’s dressed up in her original way for the concert, shaking her sweet little ass to the music. I can picture her with those big blue eyes closed, head tilted back, hands in the air, a smile spread across her soft lips. The thought has me restless and agitated, making it harder to sleep once I’ve slipped into bed.

Hours later I slip down in the darkness to the kitchen for a glass of water. I flip on the TV in the living room and sink into one of the leather couches, hoping to bore myself to sleep. A handful of minutes pass before there’s a series of knocks pounding on the front door.

It isn’t all that surprising to find Hope on the front step, but the way she sways on her feet catches me off guard. Dressed in a pair of cut off shorts and a sparkling top, hair curled and makeup heavy, it’s safe to guess she spent the night out on the town. Her bright green eyes freeze on my bare chest.

“Oh, m’ god!” she slurs, nearly falling to the side. “Congratu-
lations!”

I reach out to grab her arm. “You're drunk.”

“Yes, I’m
drunk,”
she says with a nasally laugh. “Took a little detour on m’ way home. Figured I’d stop to see if your sexy ass wanted some company. Evelyn made me promise you’d be well taken care of. Wouldn’t wanna be a bad friend.”

“Christ,”
I growl to myself. My eyes sweep over the empty street, pissed as hell that she’d walk alone at this hour while tanked. Don’t her fucking friends care if she made it home? I swear not a single woman I’ve met knows how to look out for themselves. Hope doesn’t seem to be an exception. “Get in here,” I bark, pulling her inside with me.

She trips over the threshold and giggles, falling into my chest. The sour odor of booze and her citrus perfume burn my nose. Her warm fingers spread across my stomach muscles and she makes a little purring noise. I’m annoyed, but what do you know, my dick stirs with her touch. There’s no denying she’s especially hot when all dressed up, but I don’t let my mind wander any further. No way I’m doing anything with this girl whether she’s plowed or otherwise.

A soft hum falls from her lips. “Damn, you’re
massive.”

“You can’t wander around by yourself when you’re like this,” I scold, prying her off me. “Do you have a boyfriend or someone who can come get you?”

“I’m single and all the people in m’ life are probably still at the bar,” she says, drawing her glossy eyes up to meet mine. She hiccups among a giggle. “Looks like it’s just you ’n' me.”