Page 20 of Bear
I grunt my agreement as we watch them roll around a good bit more.
Lennon lowers her head to whisper in my ear again, her soft breath tickling my skin and sending my pulse racing. “I noticed you and Mason were pretty good at this stuff, too.”
I glance over my shoulder at her with a wry smile. “We’d have to be. We’re his sparring partners when he wants to work on certain skills at home.”
“Oh, like practice buddies?”
“Yeah.” I huff out a laugh. “Practice buddies.”
She’s quiet for another minute, but now that Bear’s taken this guy to the mat, she squirms a bit with each move they make, trying to see better now that his opponent is practically pinned on the floor. I’ll be honest, with her body molded around mine, I’m not paying attention to this fight. I don’t miss her quick intake of breath when Bear lands a blow, nor the way her thighs tighten on me… in excitement? Fuck, I don’t care why she’s doing it, but I have the insane urge to spin around and pin herto the wall.
Instead, my eyes roam over the crowd, and things are just fine until Lennon spots Tristan and Derek sitting there, drinks in hand, wearing their expensive-looking tailored suits to a cage fight. It’s as if all the air’s been knocked from her lungs. She claws at my shoulders. “Tristan,” she murmurs, “and Derek. Over there.”
I briefly squeeze her thigh. “I know. I saw them. We’re okay.”
“No. I want—” She tucks her face against the side of my neck and whispers frantically, “Turn around. Go. Now.”
I dislike the nervous energy rippling through her. I do a quick pivot and speed walk back to Bear’s dressing room, throwing the door open. I shut it behind us, then spin, leaning back to catch my breath—with Lennon sandwiched between me and the door. I can’t tell which is making my heart beat faster, the fact that the mere sight of my father and Bear’s has caused Lennon to panic or that I’ve pinned my stepsister’s soft curves against my back with her legs tangled around me.
After we calm, I tap her legs, and she releases the vice grip from around my hips. She slides down the length of my back until her sandaled feet hit the floor. When I step away and turn around, I note that she continues to use the door for support. Stepping close, I brace one forearm over her head and lean in, my chest rising and falling at a steady pace. “Did they see you? Is that why you’re upset?”
“I-I don’t know.” She clenches her teeth tightly together, the look she shoots me is full of wariness. “I spotted them, and a few seconds later, Tristan’s head turned. But I have no idea if he was looking specifically at me or at that row of big dudes in front of us. Did he really say they didn’t want me here for some reason? I mean, I know why I didn’t want to seethem.”She shudders, unable to stop the involuntary reaction.
It makes me want to tear through that room and drag either—or both—men into the ring and pound on them. Is she scared that she’ll be pulled out of KU? I shake my head before I answer. “No. It was more of a feeling that I got from my father. It was nothing he explicitly said.”
I can tell that explanation doesn’t make her feel much better. I grip her chin with my fingers, tipping her face to mine. “Don’t panic.” My heart begins to pound an even fiercer beat. “It’s not that big a deal. I’d prefer they hadn’t seen us, because I didn’t like the vibe I got earlier or the way you’re reacting to seeing them. But if they did happen to see us, we just say we decided to come at the last minute. It’s as simple as that. Let me do the talking if they come looking for us for some reason. If we’re lucky, they’ll be too caught up in what’s going on out there to bother.”
I don’t know which I find more disturbing right at this very moment—considering possible reasons why the OG Bastards wouldn’t want Lennon here or the realization that if it comes down to it, I’m on Lennon’s side. I would protect her with all that I am.
I sure as fuck didn’t see that coming.
ELEVEN
BEAR
I’ve almost got him.I ignore the roar of the crowd as I grapple on the mat with the Gamma Chi, trying to focus on getting the job done. This asshole may occasionally manage to get the upper hand, but never for long. Sweat drips from me, my muscles scream, but this is it—the match is almost over. I can feel it. He’s allowed me to get him on his back, trap him with my legs—one over his neck and the other clamped over his waist. I’ve got a good grip on his forearm and begin to maneuver it tight to my chest so I can execute a classic armbar. Pulling his arm flush against my chest, I finish him off by arching my back until his elbow begins to hyperextend.
It only takes two seconds of that before he’s gasping in excruciating pain and taps out. At the ref’s quick signal that the match is over, I release him and roll away, standing up on the mat. I stare down at the guy, my heart still racing. From the look of exhaustion on his face, I’d say he’s relieved the fight is over, no matter the outcome. The crowd surges to its feet, wildly clapping and shouting, but I hardly hear the cheers. They don’t mean a goddamn thing to me anymore.
In the beginning, it used to be such a rush to walk into the ring and show everyone what I was capable of. I was young and dumb. Didn’t think through the ramifications. But now I get why these fights are such a stupid thing to be excited about—because every fucking fight I take, I’m putting myself and my football career at risk. I need out from under my dad’s control in the worst way. If only I’d never fucked it all up in the first place, I could simply walk away. But I can’t.
My jaw twitches as my gaze finds my old man in the crowd, talking with some of his cronies. They’re always here for fight nights, and it’s the same group that’s generally at the big poker games my father throws once a month. Only alumni are allowed to attend, and what they’re like is all very hush-hush. It’s a social thing for some of them, but it’s all about the gambling for my dad. It’s what he excels at. I’ve seen the evidence in his bank accounts, both personal and business. Too bad it’s all fuckin’ dirty money.
I don’t know if it makes me an awful son, but hopefully this bullshit won’t last forever. Eventually someone will open their mouth when they shouldn’t and this entire kingdom my father and his friends have built will go up in flames and be nothing more than ashes.
It won’t matter to me at all. I get nothing in exchange for these fights except my father’s silence. Fighting is the only way I can be assured that he’ll keep his mouth shut.
I don’t miss how similar our situations are. One word breathed in the wrong ear about what I did, and it’s over for me.
I’m shaken from my disturbing thoughts by the announcer booming my name and the ref grabbing my forearm to hold it up. Victory. Again. My eyes connect with my old man’s, and he nods. No smile, no cheering, no nothing.
“Fuck yes, Bear! That’s how it’s done!” Mason’s bellow as he climbs the outside of the cage, arm pumping in the air in recognition of my win finally puts a smile on my face. Mason, Duke, and I may be a dysfunctional family, but at least we fuckin’ support each other when it counts. I shoot him a smirk at his antics as I wait for permission from the ref to exit the ring. We always make sure the crowd is dispersing before we leave the safety of the cage. Gamblers can be fucking ruthless sometimes. I’d be more worried if I were the other guy tonight, though.
As I stand trying to catch my breath, my eyes scan the arena. I don’t fucking like what I’m seeing ringside. Heated words being exchanged between my dad and Tristan have me on high alert. My eyes connect with Mason’s, then shift, trying to get him to pay attention to what’s going on behind him.
My concern registers with him, and he turns, glancing ever so slightly over his shoulder to take a look. The moment the ref lets go of my arm, I shake hands with the battered Gamma Chi and smack his sweaty bicep with my palm. “Good fight,” I grit out, then hurriedly make my way out of the ring.
Mason meets me, holds his hand up to grip mine. He brings me in close, other hand clapping on my shoulder. I duck my head as he leans in, knowing he’s going to brief me on his observations, and we need to keep our thoughts on the down-low. “It sounds like they’re aware Lennon’s here. I don’t know what the fuck to think. Whether they saw her with Duke, I don’t know. I’d assume so.”
