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I leftAmelia’s apartment and let Marco know he was not to move tonight. I’ll pull him when I send Dean into Sweet Temptations for coffee in the morning. By the end of the day, Mike will have eyes surrounding the perimeter of the building, and that will have to do. I should have fucking done that before.
I don’t want to make her feel unsafe, but I need her to actually be safe.
I know my girl can take care of herself.
But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s my fucking job to take care of her.
Instead of going back to my place, I take a detour to Crucible, an MMA gym on the outskirts of Kroydon Hills not far from Pop’s house that a friend of mine owns. Cade St. James and I went to school together before he joined the Marines. He put in a few years before something happened over there. He doesn’t talk about it, but his sister said he lost some friends. As soon as his enlistment was up, he came home bigger and angrier than when he left.
Cade bought this gym as soon as he got home. He’d trained for years here before he left, and within a few years of being back, the Savage Saint, as he’s known, was dominating the fighting world. He’s retired now, spending most of his time training up-and-coming fighters. His sister, Immogen, helps him manage the gym.
He gave me a key to the building a while back, so I could train after they close to the public. I’m usually in here before the sun comes up or long after it sets. And after my argument with Amelia, I need to work off some of this energy.
A few of us have keys, but I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here this late on a Sunday night. Once I grab my gym bag out of my trunk and head inside the dark building, I look to see who else is here. The only section of the massive warehouse illuminated is the area with a few heavy bags hanging around the perimeter and a regulation-sized octagon in the center.
Becket Kingston is alone, beating the hell out of a bag when I drop my things on the floor and catch his attention. “King,” I yell.
“Prince,” he responds. Something we’ve done since we were teenagers. Becks, Cade, and I all went to high school together. We got into more trouble than anyone will ever know. The fucker always told me he was born a king, while I was a lowly prince in waiting. Cade was our saint, but not because he was our conscience. Just the opposite. If Becks and I weren’t sure about something, Cade was the one to push it past the limit. His last name may be St. James, but he’s always been more sinner than saint.
I kick off my shoes, throw my t-shirt on my bag, and grab my hand wraps while Becks grips the bag and watches. “You been here long? Wasn’t there a Kings game today?” Becks’s family owns the local pro football team.
He shrugs. “You know your kid brother is trying to nail my little sister?” Only fucking Becket would say that about his own sister with a smile and then hit the bag as hard as he can.
“Lenny? Yeah. They were at my restaurant a few weeks ago. I like her. Pretty sure he’s looking for more than an easy lay. Sebastian’s got a good head on his shoulders. I wouldn’t worry about him.” I meet him at the bag and hold it steady as he starts to jab.
“Wasn’t worried. She’ll kick his ass if he fucks up.” Another jab.
If this were anyone else, I might have a problem with his words, but it’s not. “So what are you doing here this late?”
“Fucking women. We’re supposed to be mind readers. Yet they can’t manage to tell us a single thing.” That’s all he needs to say as he continues his assault on the bag. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be out shooting someone?”
Becks has a fucked-up sense of humor. Always has.
“Nah. That’s tomorrow. Tonight, I’m with you. Fucking women.”
“You two pussies seriously come to my gym at ten o’clock on a Sunday to bitch about fucking women?”
The two of us turn and watch Cade St. James walk in from the back of the building where the offices are housed, holding a pink teddy bear in one hand and wearing what looks like plaid pajama pants with a white undershirt and bare feet.
Becks attempts to hold back a laugh but fails. “Couldn’t sleep without your teddy, Saint? I’ll bet those cage girls would love to know that the Savage Saint needs his teddy to get a good night’s sleep.”
As Cade stalks our way, Becks jokingly hides behind me. “Save me, Sam. He’s gonna kill me, and I’m too pretty to die.”
I shove him away. “Serves you right, Becks. Seriously, do you ever shut the fuck up?”
Cade smacks the back of Becks’s head. “Douche. Brynlee left it here earlier. I got her to sleep without it, but she keeps waking up. Immogen’s home now, so I figured I’d run over and grab it.” He looks between the two of us. “You haven’t lived until you have a two-year-old going on a sleep strike.” He leans against the octagon in the center of this room and closes his eyes. “It’s fucking exhausting.”
Becks and I join him. “Gen isn’t playing at Kingdom tonight?” Cade’s sister’s band, Sinners & Saints, is the house band at Becks’s brother Sawyer’s bar in the city.
“Nah. She got home a few minutes ago. She keeps telling me she needs to look for her own place, but I swear, I don’t know how I’m gonna do it when she moves out.”
“Women suck. They just want so much from you,” Becks laments.
I shake my head. “Or they won’t take anything from you.”
“Guys, I’m talking about my sister. At least the two of you are getting laid.”
Yeah. That’s not happening tonight either.
