Spent - Part Three (Bad Boy Fighter Book 3) (9 page)

And best of all, I meant it.

“That’s so hot!” Cameron practically yells on the other end of the phone.

Wincing, I pull my cell away from my ear for a moment while Cameron lets out all of her excitement.

“I know! I totally wasn’t expecting any of it!” I gleefully exclaim.

“There were no hints of anything that he would propose to you?” Cameron asks, her tone revealing her elation, which surprises me, since Cameron usually isn’t one to get excited over things like this.

“None! I mean, sure, I figured he and I would get married eventually, but I never saw this coming! And now in the way that he did it all. It was so romantic and wonderful,” I smile, reminiscing on the night.

I don’t bother to tell Cameron that I initially told Luke I needed time. She would just analyze it to death and say that perhaps I’m not ready to be with him. But I know better now. Now I know that I can heal and grow and thrive, and I’m going to do it all with Luke right by my side.

“I’m so happy for you, girl! Have you told your mom yet?”

Shit.

I grimace. I hadn’t even thought about how to tell my mom and step-dad about all of this, let alone what their reactions would be. I’m sure Mom would complain about how I’m too young, or how Luke and I need to finish college first. Or worse, she’ll probably assume that I’m pregnant and that we’re rushing into this because of that.

“No,” I sigh, “I’ll figure out how to tell her later. It’s not like we’re running to the chapel today to get hitched. I have a little time to figure out how to break it to her.”

“True,” Cameron hums, “Speaking of which, when do you think the wedding will be?”

Just as I open my mouth to respond, the front door slams open. I jump, startled by the loud crash of the metal door against the wood framed wall. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Luke was the one marching through the slammed open door, I probably would have screamed at the intrusion. The dark look on his face says there is something very wrong, so I panic nonetheless, just in a different way entirely.

Luke stands in the doorway of the dining room, where I’m at. He just stares at me. His hazel eyes are glazed over and his face is pale. I can tell that he’s pissed. I stare at him for a moment, blinking, unable to think. He looks ragged and his breathing is shallow. If it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t have a mark on his body, nor were his clothes disheveled, I would assume he had gotten into a fight. Cameron clears her throat, reminding me that I’m on the phone still.

“Cam, I’m going to have to call you back,” I mutter, my eyes locked onto Luke’s.

I hang up the phone without waiting for Cam to respond. Placing my phone onto the kitchen table, I walk over to Luke, silently praying that nothing horrible has happened.

“Hi, baby,” I whisper.

He doesn’t say anything, but immediately wraps his arms around my body, embracing me tightly, as if I were lost but now found. I can feel his emotions wash over me and they nearly make me cry. I can’t exactly tell what’s wrong, but I know that it’s something bad.

“What’s going on?” I mutter against his chest.

Luke doesn’t let go of me, “You’re always going to be safe. I’m going to make sure of it.”

I blink, unsure of what this sudden fear means, “I know you’ll keep me safe, baby.”

“I’ll kill him,” Luke says, his face blank and emotionless.

My eyes widen, “What are you talking about?”

“Baptiste. He won’t walk out of that arena alive.”

I pull away from Luke, “What are you talking about? He’s disappeared. No one knows where he’s at.”

“I do,” Luke says, barely above a whisper, “He’s my next competitor.”

My heart stops, “No baby, that makes no sense. You’re fighting Vasquez next.”

Luke looks down at me, his normally radiant eyes are pale and cold, “Vasquez withdrew from my bout with him tomorrow. Baptiste has been competing in Washington. He’s up in rank now and is stepping up to replace Vasquez. Him and I are set to fight in Baltimore tomorrow morning.”

My legs give out from under me. I stumble backwards, but Luke catches me before I can fall. He wraps his arms around me as he and I slowly lower down to the floor. My body begins to heave from the sudden wave of tears and emotions that wash over me.

The police department still hasn’t called me with the results from the forensics on the knife. I had hoped that Derrick was off the grid and laying low. Now I’m being told that he’s going to be nearer to me than I ever hoped, and that he’s coming to fight, right in the same arena, in the same
cage
as my fiancé.

“He’ll never hurt you again, Natasha,” Luke whispers into my hair as I sob against his chest, “I’ll make certain of it. He’s not leaving that arena alive.”

I gasp between sobs, slowly becoming aware of what Luke is insinuating, “What are you going to do?”

“I can make it look like an accident,” Luke goes on, his expression still cold and empty, “It’s easy to do in the arena. Accidents happen.”

I shake my head as tears pour down my cheeks, “Stop talking like that! You’re not that kind of person!”

Luke looks down into my eyes, his fingers strum against my cheek, “I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”

“Please don’t do this,” I beg him, “Let the cops handle it.”

“We’ve
seen
how the cops handled things,” Luke’s face is serious, “and they didn’t do shit. They can’t protect you, but I can.”

I place my hands on his arms, staring him directly in the eyes, doing my best to regain my composure, “Promise me. Promise me you will not do what you’re thinking of doing. I beg of you.”

Luke kisses the top of my forehead, stroking one of his hands through my hair, “I love you, Natasha.”

“I love you, too,” I whimper, tears slowly rolling down my cheeks, “Promise me you won’t go tomorrow?”

He smiles softly, but his eyes are still so cold. When he doesn’t respond to my request, my body collapses. I want to pound my fists into his chest and demand that he listen to me. The look in his eyes is unlike anything I have ever seen on him before.

Silently, I wonder if maybe this is the old Luke, the Luke I never knew. Perhaps this is the Luke that was involved in gangs and had a record. Maybe he’s back and
my
Luke, the one that I love, is gone. The thought makes me cry even harder.

Luke wraps his arms around me and lifts me up off of the ground. I rest my head against his chest and continue to cry. Never in my life have I felt as weak as I have this past month. It feels as if his chest has been stained with more of my tears than I have ever shed before. His chest is my sanctuary when I feel weak like this, but what price has my weakness cost me? Has it taken away the man that I love and replaced him with a former version of himself. A man who isn’t afraid to kill someone?

As we enter our bedroom, I feel myself slowly beginning to nod off. I want to fight him, to beg him to listen to me and to remain the Luke that I love. But emotionally and physically, I’m spent. I can’t fight anymore. I can’t beg. I can’t do anything but sleep. My eyes grow heavier. As they slowly begin to close, I feel mine and Luke’s bodies against the bed, his wrapped around mine as he gently strokes my hair.

“I promise…” I hear his voice softly whisper against my ear as sleep claims me.

***

It’s our wedding day. Judging from the leaves, it’s autumn. Our wedding is outdoors and everything is gorgeous. It isn’t ridiculously fancy or over complicated, but it looks exactly like what I would picture my dream wedding to be.

Vincent has his arm locked in with mine. I smile up at him and he smiles down at me. He and I slowly begin walking down the aisle.

I already know this is a dream, but I don’t want to wake up from it. Instead, I’m scanning the area and the faces, trying to find the groom.

Finally, I spot him.

Luke watches me as Vincent and I walk down the aisle. He looks insanely handsome in his suit. But my eyes slowly drift to the pale figure standing beside him.

My father looks nothing like he did a few days ago when Luke and I picked him up from the arena. He looks frail and weak. His normally tanned skin looks pale. I want to cry as my eyes take in the image of him.

I try to focus my attention on the man I’m about to marry, but I can’t. My father is dying. I know that he doesn’t have much longer to live. What little life is left in him is slowly draining out of his body. But he’s smiling at me. His brown eyes watch me as Vincent and I make our way down the aisle.

What little life is left within him shines down on me through his eyes and his smile. I smile back at him, trying to fight the tears that are threatening to erupt. I’ve never seen him so sick, but it also feels like I’m finally seeing who he really is. And deep down, I can tell, he truly is a beautiful soul.

No longer do I see the man that screamed and yelled and beat me. No more do I see the man who instilled so much fear within me. Looking at him here in this dream, I see what change looks like.

The proud man standing beside my soon-to-be husband is my father. I have finally rediscovered a man that I thought I had lost forever, who was lost himself, and I realize something once impossible to imagine.
 

I forgive him.

My eyes flash open. The sun is shining through my bedroom window. Panic settles within me. It’s the morning of the fight.
 

When I hear a pot clanging in the kitchen, I let out a sigh of relief.
 

Luke’s still home.
 

I settle back into my bed, but glance over at the alarm clock. It’s after nine, and if my father is anything like he used to be, he’s been awake for hours by now. Reaching over to the end table by the bed, I grab my cell phone.
 

The image of him from my dreams still haunts me, but I now know that if I don’t do anything to try to repair our relationship, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I want to see him there, at my wedding, even if he’s nearly gone.
 

Selecting the number that my father last called me on, I hit the redial button. Listening to the sound of Luke clanking around in the kitchen brings me comfort as the phone rings. I’ll have to find a way to show my future husband just how grateful I am for him listening to my pleas to stay.

“‘Ello?” My father’s Latin voice hums through the phone.
 

Closing my eyes, I take in a deep breath, “It’s Natasha.”

My father lets out a sigh of relief, “Hola,
mija.
”

“How’re you doing?”

“Oh, I’m good. I’m at a soup kitchen getting something to eat.”
 

I grimace, “Do you need more money for food?”

“No, no,” he chuckles softly, “I’m just going through a rough patch. I’ll have money soon. Besides, the soup here is good.”

I frown. It’s not the first time I’ve heard my father say this about money. Sadly, I realize it may be one of the last. Swallowing hard, I work up the gumption to finally ask him the question that has been haunting me and my dreams.
 

“What are you dying from?”

My father lets out a long, drawn out sigh, “I’ve been on a rough path for a long time, Natasha. My body has taken a beating. When they first found it… the cancer, it was in my kidneys, but it’s now spread to my bones.”

I don’t respond for a little while. Staring blankly at the quilt that’s spread out across my body, I try to process what I’ve just been told.

Metastatic cancer. Bad.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” I whisper.
 

“Don’t be,” he says frankly, “I did this to myself. I’ve messed up a lot in my life, but I’m going to do everything I can to find a way to show you and your mother how sorry I am for the way I treated you, and how I destroyed our family.”
 

“Mom and I still had a family, whether you were in it or not,” I grimace.
 

The words tumble out of my mouth from a deep bitter place that I still harbor for my father. Even if he does deserve to be told that sort of thing, right now is not the time for it. While I’m certainly not in the mindset to build my father up, I remind myself that I don’t need to be knocking him down, especially when my whole intention behind calling him was to tell him I would give him another chance.
 

“I know, Natasha, and I’m very grateful that your mother left with you. I was only getting worse. After you both left, it forced me to wake up. It still took me forever to finally stop drinking, but losing you and her, it made me see how bad I had become. There’s not a day that goes by I’m not mortified by the way I hurt you.”

“Good,” I reply, curtly, “And honestly, I still don’t know if I can ever fully forgive you.”

“I don’t expect you to. All I want you to know before I die is that I love you and that I always have. And that I’m deeply sorry for all the pain that I caused.”

“Dad, Luke and I are getting married.”

“Oh, my!” His tone sounds genuinely excited, “Congratulations. He seems like a really good man.”