Page 15 of War

“Do you need help out of the ring?” Bear offered a hand up.

Each second he didn’t answer made her feel horrible. She’d wanted to teach him a lesson but not actually hurt him. Why the heck didn’t he wear the cup she’d left for him?

Nothing was going as she planned. Her only goal tonight was to teach the kids and have him see her for the woman she was—strong, capable and the complete opposite of a princess.

~**~

WAR CONCENTRATED ONbreathing, fighting the waves of nausea. The pain from her kick had him wanting to curl up on the mat. The fact he was still on his knees was a win in his book. He choked, trying to keep from puking on the mats. A hand touched his shoulder and he leaned away—he was seconds from losing it and he needed to keep control.

He was fucking thankful it hadn’t been a direct hit. At least it was only a glancing blow and she’d hit his thigh first. It was probably the only thing keeping him from being seriously hurt.

She’d apologized but he couldn’t worry about making her feel better. The pain stopping or at least receding a little was crucial before he could move. He ignored Bear’s voice offering to help him out of the ring because there was no way he could move. He was seconds from tears so moving wasn’t happening.

“Hey, War, I’ve got an ice pack,” Flick stated as he pulled War’s hand away and placed the ice pack against him. It was so cold but a welcome distraction. He swallowed and breathed deep, praying the nausea would go away. At least with Flick, he had an EMT taking care of him. He couldn’t imagine having to go to the hospital about this. Nope, not happening. He’d limp out of the ring in just a second when he could breathe. The tears welled again at the thought of having to ride his motorcycle along the bumpy road.

“Let’s give that a minute to work, then we’ll move him out of the ring.”

“I feel horrible. I never would have tried a thigh kick if I’d known he didn’t wear the cup.”

His pain even overshadowed hearing the misery in Remington’s voice. She shouldn’t feel guilty. It was his fault for being cocky. He couldn’t let her feel bad, though. He’d tell her as soon as he could form words. The pain was receding a little with the ice.

“Here.” Flick’s hand holding out pain pills had him opening his mouth and letting him hold the water bottle while he washed it down. He wasn’t moving his hands until he was positive it wouldn’t send him crying to the mat.

He vaguely heard Winnie explaining what had happened and how they could learn from this. He was sure he’d see this as a learning experience later, when he didn’t want to curl in a ball. He took a couple deeper breaths, blowing out slowly. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting here but he could open his eyes and leave them open without wanting to puke.

He looked up at Remington’s worried face. She didn’t look like a princess. She looked like a badass female who had knocked him on his ass.

“Not your fault. Quit worrying,” he whispered, testing his voice to make sure he wouldn’t cry.

At the sound of his voice, Flick and Bear grabbed an arm. “Let’s get you up and out of here. We’re going to take one of the Franks’ SUVs. Remington can ride your bike then bring the SUV back.”

He nodded. He assumed if she was offering to ride his bike, she had enough experience and at this point, he just wanted out of the ring and to lie down somewhere.

~**~

REMINGTON CAUGHT THEkeys Winnie tossed to her. Winnie followed with the rest of their stuff as Bear and Flick finally tired of waiting for War to try to walk. Wrapping his arms around their shoulders, they lifted him off his feet and walked to the waiting SUV.

Her stomach ached. Between worrying about War and the guilt of what she’d done, however unintentional, she was glad to have to ride to get away for a little bit. His voice croaking out it wasn’t her fault was nice, but she’d hurt him.

She changed into her jeans, riding boots and a shirt with a little more coverage, grabbing her leather jacket, too. Firing up War’s motorcycle, she listened to the comforting growl. Since she was little, the growl of a motorcycle had always meant safety and love. Her mom had only ridden on the back of her dad’s bike. She’d never had her own. Remington had anticipated when it was her turn on the back of her dad’s bike but always knew she wanted her own. Before War had crushed her adolescent dreams, she’d imagined them on long rides and picnics together under the stars.

Even after their relationship had turned, he’d still appeared in her fantasies and dreams periodically. He was her perfect man in almost every way. She admired his strength of character and his protective nature. He’d grown up with a mom and dad who were all about family. His commitment to his family and brothers would make him a great father and oh my, she’d always been drawn in by his eyes. A deep, dark brown which reminded her of toffee—decadent, sweet pools of toffee she could fall into if she let herself. They twinkled with a glint when he laughed, which around his family was a given.

He topped her by about four inches which was saying something since she was six foot tall in her stocking feet. She’d actually be able to lay her head on his shoulder. He had muscles accented by his tattoos. He was lickable and she was so freaking ready to take a swipe and taste him.

But then, he’d call her princess and she’d be ready to either slap some sense into him or shoot his feet with her gun, making him dance until he changed his tune.

She followed the SUV, but she didn’t need to. She could make this drive in her sleep. The gate to the compound opened as the SUV approached. One of the guys must have called ahead so they wouldn’t need a code because no one got in after dark without stopping.

Regina had been pushing the guys to add openers in all the vehicles but Bear had vehemently opposed, and the brothers agreed. He’d gone into this long, drawn out scenario with the gist of it being what if their enemies got ahold of an opener? They could be attacked unaware.

She loved his worst-case scenarios mentality. He’d still been working for the police department when they built the gym, but she’d consulted with him over email about safety precautions. The building hid a couple surprises she prayed they’d never have to use but if they were needed, they’d be prepared. He’d also consulted on a couple of other projects. His brain was a treasure trove of ideas even if his demeanor was off-putting to most.

She backed War’s bike into the president’s spot beside the clubhouse. The guys had disappeared with War into the clubhouse, most likely to his room. Not that she’d been nosy and asked where War was staying.

Roam was still staying at his parents’ house with the little ones, and she could see War wanting the comradery of the clubhouse but also a place without little ones crying. Unless she’d missed some gossip, he’d always lived alone after he got out of the Army. And despite the way they’d parted, she’d always kept an ear out for any news about him. Even as angry as she’d been when he’d left, she’d prayed every day for the safety of them while they served.

For a Saturday night, it was exceptionally quiet. Most of the guys had been over at the gym or some of them were on a security job. She followed the voices back to War’s room.

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