Spent - Part Three (Bad Boy Fighter Book 3) (11 page)

I scream his name again.

This time Luke registers my voice, and his eyes flick around to me and lock onto mine for the split second that he and Derrick have space between them. His eyes widen when he sees me and some color returns to their hazel glow.
 

Derrick seizes the opportunity and lands a right hook square into Luke’s jaw, forcing his attention back into the fight. I gasp, but Luke holds his ground and isn’t knocked down by the surprise hit.

In my periphery I see security guards marching towards the cage, and glancing around I see several more standing by the doors.

Is there usually this much security?

The only people who don’t seem to notice the intrusion are the two men in the arena. Looking again, I realize that the men standing by aren’t security guards at all, but uniformed police.
 

With a very tight hook, Luke causes Derrick to stumble backwards and lose his footing. As Luke takes an imposing position, my heart leaps up into my throat. Derrick is wide open and Luke could make it look like an accident, if he’s careful. A sharp thrust against Derrick’s throat would end him.

One of the men here will be arrested today.

All I can do is watch and hold my breath as the seconds unfold in slow motion before me.

It seems as if the crowd is no more than a dull echo now. My knuckles are white as I grip the bottom edge of the arena.
 

I realize that it’s very unlikely anybody would notice Luke bring an intentional murderous blow against the man who tried to rape me in the midst of a MMA fight at this level, but even so
I would know
and I’m aware that it would be the end of us.

I can’t see Luke’s eyes from this position and it scares me, but the glimmer of color that returned to his face when he saw me makes me hold on for dear life.
 

Luke’s fists come down and pound into Derrick, but I immediately notice he’s not hitting him where I feared he would. Instead he hits him squarely in the chest and ribs. Derrick falls over and lays flat against the mat. I look on in horror as Derrick’s body doesn’t move. I can’t even tell if his chest is moving up and down. Luke hovers over the body and mutters something to Derrick, but I can’t read his lips to tell what he’s saying. My body begins to sag.

The cops close in around the cage door. I feel so empty as I watch on at the scene unfolding around me. Derrick doesn’t move and Luke just hovers over him. Suddenly, Luke turns to look at me. His lips move as he mouths, “I love you,” to me. Tears fall uncontrollably down my face.
 

Unexpectedly, Luke bends over and grasps one of Derrick’s arms. He tugs at the arm and, as if by some form of magic, Derrick’s body begins to move naturally. Derrick is up on his feet and alive, but Luke quickly secures Derrick’s other arm and holds both of them tightly. He whispers something else to Derrick, but again, I can’t make it out.

Closing my eyes, I finally release the breath I had been holding in the entire time.
 

I rise up and watch as the cops flood through the cage door. I find myself following Mike through the chaos of the crowd to the edge of the scene. Derrick struggles against Luke’s grip, but he’s weak and Luke easily holds him steady while the police flock around them.
 

Handcuffs lock around Derrick’s wrists and I notice with surprise as I approach that Stewart is also being restrained and led away, swearing and angry. Big Mike nods at me and heads in closer to assist, while I hang back.

I jump in surprise when the loudspeaker erupts with the announcer’s voice. He asks everyone to please stay in their seats while the police do what they need to do. The man’s voice assures everyone that they shouldn’t be alarmed.
 

Luke steps back, allowing the police the space to do their job. After a few moments, Derrick has been read his rights and is escorted out of the ring, bruised and beaten in more ways than one. The crowd is all but murmurs and whispers as they watch the police walk away with him in cuffs.

Detective Sloan appears next to me with folded arms watching the arrests, looking pleased with himself.

“Forensics, eh? A little bit of CSI and some lab work sure does make a difference to an investigation.”

I forget for the moment that I’m usually very annoyed with the man.

“The knife?”

“The knife,” he nods. “And his buddy is going down for falsifying his alibi too. We fucking hate that.”

“Forgive me for saying I told you so,” I can’t help myself.

Detective Sloan looks directly at me and grins, obviously pleased with his arrests and able to take the jab.

“Not only do I forgive you… but well, I’m sorry for doubting your story. I’ll make it up to you by adding a few more charges on him for the obstruction of justice… And you? You doing ok?”

Detective Sloan pulls a cigarette from his top pocket and lights it while I think.

“You know. I think I will be.”

“Well, good. Seeing your man let loose a few swings into him couldn’t have hurt either,” he winks. “I suppose we could have arrested Baptiste after the first round, but… I figured we owed you.”

He marches off chuckling, leaving me to wonder what to make of it all.

“Fucking hell Sloan, if you only knew,” I mutter to myself.

It’s over. My nightmare is finally over.
 

Derrick is alive and in police custody likely to be tried for assault, attempted rape, intention to commit murder and obstruction of justice. And most important of all, Luke is alive and never committed the crime that he had contemplated.
 

Luke is looking over from the cage stairs where he must have been waiting for Sloan to be finished with me. I smile at him, and he smiles softly in return and bounds away from the commotion behind him. The crowd’s eyes are on him as he descends towards me and I notice that behind him, Big Mike is unashamedly smiling bright rows of teeth in our direction.

Luke's gloved hands are covered in blood, the blood of the man who tried to rape and kill me. But I don’t care. Luke didn’t kill him and that’s all that matters to me right now. He turned away the monster I feared dwelled within him.
 

Strong arms wrap around me as Luke pulls me in close to him. I bury my head against his chest and wrap my arms around his strong frame. Blood smears across my clothes, but I don’t care. The man I love, the man I fell in love with, is back. He came back to me from whatever dark place he had wandered off to. Now that Derrick is going to be locked away, I know that the Luke I love is here to stay.
 

“You didn’t kill him,” I mutter against Luke’s chest.
 

“I couldn’t,” Luke whispers, “Killing him isn’t worth losing you.”

I pull away from him just enough to look into his eyes, “Were you ever going to kill him?”

Luke purses his lips, “I thought I was,” he looks down and shakes his head, “But I don’t think I would have actually gone through with it. I’m not the man I used to be.”

I squeeze him tighter, “Thank you.”

He plants a kiss on the top of my head, “I guess the forensics came back?”

Kissing Luke’s chest, I allow a soft smile to form across my face, “Correct.”

Luke kisses my forehead, then trails down along the side of my face and across my lips. We lock in an embrace for what feels like forever. I can taste sweat and blood, but I can also taste him. Pulling him in tighter, I kiss him even more passionately, as if he has just returned from some long journey, far away. And in a way, he has.
 

“Thank you,” Luke whispers against my lips.

“For?”

“Giving me the strength to be the man you deserve.”

I look up into his beautiful hazel eyes and smile, “Thank you for being better than the man of my dreams.”

His copper hair glistens against the arena lights as Luke looks down into my eyes and smiles sheepishly, “So… do you still want to marry me?”

My heart leaps in response.

“I do, always and forever.”

“Don’t you think all this is a bit over-the-top, Mom?” I ask.

To her credit, she'd really been excited when I'd told her and Vince about the engagement. Perhaps a little too excited I consider staring at the array of wedding pictures laying across my kitchen table.

My mother has managed to find nearly every wedding magazine known to man and has pulled images from them depicting set ups she thought would be nice. Sadly, planning color schemes and floral arrangements are not my forte.
 

“You don't like any of these ideas?” My mother looks at me, making me feel guilty with her pouty face.
 

I stare at the pictures before me and reply softly, “Most of them have pink, Mom.”

“What’s wrong with pink?”

“Nothing,” I sigh, “But my red hair combined with a pink setting just sounds like a bit much.”

Cameron enters the room with a chuckle, a glass of sparkling wine in her hand.

“Just be honest! You hate pink, Tasha. Unless of course, it's Luke's naked chest.”

“Shut up Cam!” I laugh, going a little pink myself.

Before my mother can give her rebuttal, my father and Luke both enter room, carrying plates of homemade Puerto Rican food. The smell of empanadas invade my nostrils, bringing back pleasant memories from my early childhood.
 

Luke wears a broad grin stretched across his face. I smile back at him. Never in my wildest dreams would I have pictured Luke and my father hitting it off. Little did I know that planning a wedding would eventually turn into my dad giving Luke cooking lessons.
 

Vincent enters the room a few moments later, carrying wine and glasses. He, my father, and Luke had all been in the kitchen, prepping the meal with one another and cooking. For most people, being in a room with your wife’s ex-husband and your stepdaughter’s future husband would be an awkward situation, but Vincent is handling it with relative ease. I give him a wink, silently thanking him for his sheer awesomeness. He winks back and begins pouring glasses.

“No wine for me,
gracias
Vincent”, my father reminds my stepfather.

“Of course, of course. Not a problem, I'll grab you a soda,” Vincent replies.

“Did you ladies finally come to an agreement?” Luke asks as he wraps an arm around my waist.
 

“Yes, we did,” I smile, staring up into his hazel eyes, “We’re eloping.”

“I’m cool with that,” Luke grins.

My mother’s jaw drops, “Are you serious?”

“If you keep picking out pink wedding dresses, I might be tempted to tie the knot in some tropical destination,” I tease.
 

My mom stares at me, as if she can’t decide whether she wants to chew me out or cry. I just stare back at her mischievously, trying my best not to chuckle. Luke glances back and forth between the two of us, trying his best to suppress a grin, and Cameron starts giggling into her wine.

Music suddenly fills the air. All of us turn to look, seeing that my father has made his way over to the computer and selected a playlist on my Spotify. He glances at each of us, a smirk etched across his face.
 

“You people need to loosen up.”

Laughter breaks out amongst all of us. I had no idea he'd even learned to operate a computer. Wonders will never cease. Even my mom manages a chuckle at the surprise.

Soon, everyone begins digging into the food, all except my father and I. I turn to look at him. He’s beginning to look frail. Not as bad as he had looked in my dream, but the toll of the cancer on his body is showing.
 

My dad smiles at me and nods for me to come over towards him. I oblige and break away from the ravenous horde that my family has turned into thanks to my dad’s empanadas.

“Dance with me?” Dad whispers once I make it to him.
 

“Sure,” I smile.

Luke has been watching and with a nod from my father I see him head over to the computer to select a song for us.
 

He takes my hand and begins leading me around the room. It’s the Celia Cruz song, the one that he and I used to dance to when I was so very little. Tears well up in my eyes as he and I dance to the lively beat.

Guantanamera… yo soy un hombre sincero…

This was what I had always wanted from my father, but I never thought I would be able to have.

Vincent claps to the beat and our happy moment and my mother and Cameron appear to suddenly have something in their eyes.

Luke smiles at me with so much love and joy at seeing me with my father in this moment, and I feel so much love for him in return, my beautiful man, my husband to be, my Luke.

Dad wipes a tear from my cheek as he shakes and moves to the Spanish music. Right now, in this moment, he is alive, we are young again in the music and I am a little girl, dancing with my Daddy.

“I love you,
mija.
”