Page 1 of Triple the Danger

CHAPTER ONE

SAYLOR

It was the first time he’d ever hit her, and it was going to be the fucking last. She made the vow to herself as he kicked and punched her, releasing whatever unhinged anger was burning through him that made her his punching bag. Never again. She wasn’t too weak to protect herself, not anymore. Growing up, her father abused both her and her mother. Back then, she’d hidden and cowered. Now, she would ride out the storm, and bide her time until she could strike.

A cry of pain slipped out before she could stop it, and it only seemed to infuriate him more. He landed one more punch to her ribs, knocking the wind out of her. They were probably cracked, but that was a worry for later. Her biggest need was to protect her head. She was going to need all her faculties to get out in one piece.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, he pulled away and screamed, “Fuck!” before he stepped back, running his hands through his hair as he finally started to come back to himself. She watched him and waited, unmoving. Her own anger burned in her belly, but she kept it in check; a childhood practice she had hoped would never have to be used again.

He turned toward her, his eyes slowly coming back into focus. As he stared at her, he said nothing, breathing heavily as his hands fell to his sides. They had only been dating for two months, and she came over tonight to spend time with him since he was busy with work the past week. Only, tonight wasn’t going the way she’d expected. She brought some pizza, thinking he might be too tired to cook or go out. The look on his face when he answered the door should have been her first clue, but she was oblivious, clearly. It was a mistake she would not make again. But what set him off completely was when she made a comment about his habit of gambling at the casino; how the odds only ever favored the house, and maybe he should consider playing the stock market instead.

He got defensive, claiming he was getting luckier, having won well over five thousand this round. He, of course, didn’t see how it mattered that he’d spent almost five thousand to get it, making his lucky win a wash. She tried to offer some suggestions, careful not to attack him about it, but clearly, he was offended and upset. When he’d pulled a little black book from his pocket and tried to shore up his argument with all the “stats” he’d been recording for himself, she realized he was a lost cause. She told him right then that it wasn’t going to work out between them, and that was when his entire expression changed. Devastation and anger made him suddenly unrecognizable. When she went to leave, he attacked her from behind; it was the only reason that he got the upper hand.

The moment Leon Bennet landed his first hit on the back of her head was the moment she knew she was going to have to do something drastic to survive long enough to get away from him.

“Saylor,” he said after a moment. There was something in his tone; maybe regret, maybe pain, but she had doubts it was genuine. Whatever he was feeling now wouldn’t keep this from happening again. Next time, he would consider himself justified, and she wasn’t about to stick around to experience that.

Carefully, she got to her feet, rising to her full height despite the pain in her ribs and stomach. She called on every ounce of training and instinct she had, and then she was moving. Her trainers would be proud of her—hell, she was proud of herself—and satisfaction filled her as she saw the shock and fear in his eyes as she brought her fist down hard on his face, knocking him out cold. He fell like a stone, his head banging heavily on the hardwood floor.

She stood over him, her hand aching, but considering the rest of her, she couldn’t have given a shit. Instead, she absently checked that he still had a pulse, and then started to pull away, but stopped when she saw the book peeking out of his pocket. She sneered at it, thinking it was part of the reason this whole entire evening had gone to shit, but something about it pulled at her. Tugging it from his pocket, she flipped through it, rolling her eyes at the notes written.

Slots rigged. Only pays out dimes.

Dealer at Table 12 counting cards. Report him.

Blackjack table, sit in third seat from left for best view of cards from mirror.

Looked like Leon was trying to cheat his way through the damn place, or at least cause problems. As petty as it was, she didn’t want him to get off scot free with just a punch to the face. A split-second decision had her tightening her grip on the book and then heading to retrieve her purse and jacket. She limped as she went, but she only allowed a couple of curses to leave her lips.

She needed to get to Mater’s place to get patched up, though she already knew what he was going to say when he got a look at her. Son of a bitch, she was not looking forward to that conversation. She shut the door behind her as she left the apartment and slowly made her way down to her car in the parking lot. She cursed Leon again for having an apartment on the top floor of the four-story apartment building. The stairs were hell on her ribs and legs, but she pushed through it. She wasn’t sure how long that punch to the face would last, and she was determined to be long gone before he woke.

When she finally made it to her car, sweat was beading off her body, and her hands were shaking as she gave her phone the command to call Mater. Much like she figured, he answered after only two rings. “Problem?” he asked in that gruff voice of his that would normally send people running the other way, but to her it was endearing. The man was grizzled and mean-looking with a heart of gold for those that needed his help. Sex, race, or station in life meant nothing to him. If you were a decent person, he would help you. If you were an asshole, you quickly learned why most people avoided him.

“Fucker beat me,” she gritted out between clenched teeth. “I left him in a pile on the floor, but I need you to fix me up. I’m on my way.”

The angry curse that blared through the speakers almost had her smiling. “I’ll be waiting. How bad?” he demanded.

“Bad enough. Ribs are bruised for sure, possibly cracked; my hand is swollen and aching, and my body’s going to turn some nice colors over the next few weeks,” she told him truthfully. No point in hiding it, since he was going to see for himself when she got there.

“I’ll kill him,” Mater vowed.

“Can’t help me from prison, Mater,” she reminded him drily. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. I need ice packs and the good pain meds.”

“Done. Be careful, Saylor, or I’ll kick your ass myself when you get here,” he warned her gruffly before he hung up.

She snorted softly at that. The man was constantly threatening to kick her ass, but he never so much as touched her in anger. Not even when she pushed and pushed him to take her on as a client, to make sure she was ready for anything and everything. Mater was a former MMA fighter, one of the best on the circuit once upon a time, according to the number of belts hanging on his walls. When he eventually left the octagon, up-and-coming fighters from all over the country sought him out to train them. He did, but only took on those that he felt were worth his effort. The rest of his time was spent helping those that needed it most.

In her case, he and some of the fighters he trained taught her some fighting skills and self-defence. None of them had taken it easy on her, and at one point she hated it, but she forced herself to keep going. She refused to be a victim again, and they were helping to make sure of that. Still, she and Mater became close, and he was now something of a surrogate uncle. He also insisted they be a part of each other’s lives by all but demanding she eat dinner with him every so often. He also sought her help to get through to some of the blockhead fighters he worked with.

Right now, she was damn grateful to have him. She avoided hospitals like the plague, thanks to all the visits she endured as a kid, and there wasn’t anything they could do to help her anyway. Mater’d get her patched up, and she would figure out her next move.

Nothing like getting wailed on to show it was time to make a change. Something told her that Leon wasn’t going to leave this alone, especially when he realized she had taken his little book. A book she was going to burn the first chance she got. Either way, though, it might be time for her to get out of dodge for a while until things settled. She had no idea where she would go, but after this, she could almost feel the open road calling to her. Mater wouldn’t like it, but he’d understand.

Well, somewhat.

When she finally reached the gym Mater owned, operated, and lived above, she groaned when she realized he wasn’t alone. With him was Ty Richardson, one of his top fighters, and a general pain in her ass. Ty wasn’t a bad guy or anything, but his ego occasionally got the better of him, and the two of them ended up sparring a few times. Still, they mostly figured their shit out; seeing his hard face now as he looked at her through her front window, she supposed that was a good thing.

She pulled to a stop in front of the gym and then slowly, carefully, climbed out of the car, hissing through her teeth at the streaks of intense pain that shot up her sides and through her hand. Mater stepped forward, his face like granite as his bright blue eyes took her in. At fifty-four, the man was still in prime shape and heavily muscled. He stood at six-one with a full head of black hair that he had been letting grow out more in recent months. His distinguished face sported a nose that would never again be straight after so many breaks; scars from different fights that never healed quite right; and a couple of missing teeth that he usually kept covered with partial dentures. Must have caught him already up in his apartment, she thought.

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