Jami was stunned. She’d just given him a gift, and she hadn’t even realized it. He kissed her zealously, excitement flooding him. “You’re amazing. I knew I could count on you.”
She giggled when he started placing kisses everywhere, focusing on her ticklish spots just because he liked the way she squirmed.
A soft knock sounded on the door, and they both paused to listen. “Yes?” Alyson asked hesitantly, her voice strained as she tried to sound normal.
Victoria’s muffled voice came through the door. “This is so embarrassing, but could you tone it down a notch. I can kind of hear…well, everything. The walls are pretty thin.”
Alyson’s horrified eyes met his and Jami buried his head in the valley between her breasts. His shoulders shook he was laughing so hard. Alyson tugged a lock of his hair in reprimand. “Sure, no problem,” she called out.
As soon as Victoria’s bedroom door closed, Jami couldn’t keep quiet. “Holy, shit, do you think she heard us?”
Ally’s eyes danced with laughter, and no matter how hard she tried to appear serious, she couldn’t mask the smile creeping across her face. “Don’t laugh!” she hissed. “This is so embarrassing. I am completely embarrassed!”
Jami snuggled her closer and kissed her. “Don’t be. I’m not. It’s just sex. Everybody does it. It’s completely natural, normal, and healthy. If I had to bet on it, I would say that Tori was only asking because she needs a good night’s sleep and we were keeping her up.” And because Miles had probably heard everything, too, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.
“That’s even worse!” Ally covered her face with her hands, but Jami pried them away.
“Relax. It’s not a big deal. In the morning, you’ll see it different.” Rolling onto his side, Jami pulled her against him. Petting her long hair, he waited for the tension to leave her. She melted against him, her head on his chest, and her hand on his stomach. When her breathing finally evened out, Jami closed his eyes.
He had the girl, he had the love he’d always wanted, and he was comfortable. There was nowhere else, no one else, he could see himself with, and he had a feeling that was how things were going to stay. The path of least resistance was overrated.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“I know you’re looking at me.” Alyson smiled as she watched the knife she held chop the lettuce into thin strips.
From the living room pass-through, Jami raised his hands. “What? I can’t look at you?”
“Not like that.” Jami was so adorable sometimes. She’d been wearing a smile since last night. Now that she had some idea of what was going on in his head, she was feeling much more settled. He could be so unpredictable, so intense sometimes, that she felt like she couldn’t get her footing. Not now, though. Now she felt firmly rooted.
It was a good feeling.
“How am I looking at you?” Jami sent her a playful, challenging look and, abandoning his station, came to stand behind her.
Alyson pressed her back into his chest as he bent to wrap his arms around her. “Like you want something.”
He nuzzled her neck. Reaching under her arms, he stole a diced tomato from the cutting board and tossed it into the air. Alyson turned her head to watch as he quickly stepped back, tipped his head, and caught the piece of fruit in his mouth. “Hungry,” he said with a suggestive lilt.
“Your friends are here,” Victoria announced, poking her head into the kitchen.
“Okay,” Alyson said cheerfully. “Food is ready to go if everyone is hungry.” She ignored the pat on her butt as Jami passed by to greet their friends.
They were making tacos. Remembering Jami’s strict diet, she’d decided to go the ultra-healthy route and opted for seasoned refried beans instead of hamburger. Jami, being the great cook that he was, had conjured up handmade tortillas. Alyson had no idea that was even possible. She’d grown up with the assumption that certain things, like bread and tortillas, came in a clear plastic bag.
She liked his idea much better.
Tonight, Jami and Spencer were going over old fights, studying moves and techniques so he could get his mind in the game for the fight that weekend. Since he was staying at her apartment and didn’t want to leave her alone, Jami suggested making a sort of party out of it. Recognizing the opportunity to get together with Olivia, she’d jumped on it.
“Hey, you, need any help in here?” Olivia bounced in looking every bit her bright and cheery self. Alyson looked her over, admiring her denim clad legs, black ribbed tank and loose fitting black and white plaid shirt hanging open over top.
“Looking spiffy, chick.”
Olivia looked herself over and flipped her hand in the air. “Oh, this old thang?”
Alyson broke into a fit of laughter. “Help me carry the bowls into the living room.”
Filling both hands, Olivia followed her out. “Buffet style tonight, I see. This looks great, Al.”
The boys settled in front of the television, while Alyson, Olivia, and Victoria finished arranging the food on the too small coffee table. Handing out paper plates, Alyson plopped down in the open seat that Jami saved for her, and began serving herself.
“What are we watching?” Victoria asked as she assembled a taco.
“Old fights,” Spencer answered. “Jami needs to study up.”
“I remember when Tony used to do that. He claimed it helped, but I never saw how. It’s not like you can act it out, right? I mean, you have your own fighting skills, and once you enter the ring, doesn’t all that stuff just fly out the window?”
Jami finished chewing before answering. “Sometimes, but if you watch enough of your opponent’s moves, you start to get a feel for what to look out for. It can mean the difference between taking a loss and knocking them flat on their ass.”
They spent the next hour watching men beat each other to a pulp. Alyson could handle this venue much better. Rather than being submerged in the violence, she could detach from it, hide her head, or look away. She could avoid it easily. It wouldn’t be such an easy escape on Saturday when she would be front and center to the show. But that wasn’t something she was going to worry about now.
Curled against Jami’s side, her arm looped through his, Alyson rested her head against his thick shoulder and listened to the commentary between him and Spencer as they analyzed the ‘“Iron Fist’” and his fighting style. She had the utmost faith in Jami’s ability, but she was smart enough to pick up on the underlying threat. The ‘“Iron Fist’” was strong and he had skill. From what Jami was saying, this guy was a well-rounded opponent, but he had a few things going for him that Jami was still struggling with. Namely, on the mat fighting.
He was bigger, too. Not by much, but Alyson knew from watching that every pound of muscle made a difference. If she could, she would kidnap Jami and hide him away until the fight was over so he wouldn’t get hurt. It killed her to see his face all bloodied and battered last time. It sucked something fierce to know that she would have to do it all over again, but she promised to be there for him and that was exactly what she intended to do.
Now if only she could find her big girl panties…
“Hey, I know this fight.” Seated on the loveseat next to his mom, Miles sat forward, his attention riveted to the screen.
Alyson’s curiosity piqued, she picked her head up to glance at the television, but the camera was panned out too far, catching the entire arena, with the octagon in the center looking like a fun size version of the real deal. At that distance, there wasn’t much detail to make out. She turned her attention to Miles.
“Yeah, this is one of my dad’s fights.” The spark in Miles’ eyes was a little disconcerting and a lot pitiful. Sure enough, the announcer on the video called out Tony ‘“The Killer’” Michaels a moment later, and the resulting stillness in the room was palpable. While everyone else was focused on the television, Alyson studied Miles, recognizing the mixture of grief and longing that she’d seen in too many faces over the years, including her own
. It was the look of a child who craved the love and caring of a parent.
“Come on, sweetie,” Victoria urged, giving his sleeve a tug as she stood up. Her face was slightly more pale than usual, and Alyson felt responsible. She wouldn’t be upset right now if she had pushed for another form of entertainment, or asked Jami to take it somewhere else. “It’s getting late. We should head to bed.”
Miles gave her a disbelieving look. “It’s only seven. I’m not ready for bed.”
Glancing at everyone in the room, Victoria’s frown deepened. “Well,” she said her voice a strained whisper. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to watch this, okay?”
Miles tore his eyes away from the television and glanced up at his mom with a look that Alyson could only describe as wise. “I’m fine, Mom. I can handle seeing Dad on TV. If you don’t want to watch it, then don’t, but I’m staying right here.”
Alyson’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She could see the hurt visible on Victoria’s face, but Miles was a teenager who knew what he wanted, and she was not his parent. She couldn’t toss her weight around in this situation. It would have to be up to Victoria what happened next.
Reluctantly, Victoria gathered her empty plate and glass. “Well, I can’t watch this. I’m heading to bed. Thanks for the dinner and company, everyone.”
They all said a quiet goodnight, the air in the room so thick Alyson could almost feel the storm cloud hovering overhead.
“Awkward,” Olivia said, drawing the word out.
Spencer, staring down at his phone, scolded her. “Don’t shit on a family moment, Liv. Clearly, they have issues they need to work through.”
Olivia’s face screwed up in offense. “Excuse me? I know you didn’t just tell me to shut my mouth.”
Spencer rolled his eyes as his thumbs picked up speed, tapping out a message to someone. “Did you hear those words come out of my mouth? No. I’m just saying it would be good to be a little more sensitive.” Olivia’s eyes burned with fire and she opened her mouth, but before she could give him the verbal tongue lashing, Spencer cut her off. “Shit, I gotta run.” Leaning over, he pecked her on the lips and bolted off the couch. “I’ll be back in fifteen, man,” he said to Jami. “Fill me in on what happens.”
Jami gave him a two-finger salute. “You got it.”
“Where is he going?” Alyson asked anyone who was listening.
“Where he always goes. ‘Out.’” Olivia made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat and crossed her arms and legs.
“You said he does that a lot?” Alyson asked, remembering their brief conversation at the bar.
“Every single hour of every single day. He’s like a fucking broken record.”
“Hey,” Jami said sternly. His eyes cut to Miles and back. “Watch your mouth in front of the kid.”
Miles waved him away. “Oh, please. I learned ‘French’ when I was, like, one. Don’t worry about me. I’ve already heard it all before.”
Alyson leaned over and touched Olivia’s leg. “Are you okay?”
With a tight smile, Olivia said, “Of course. He’ll be back in an hour and it will be as if nothing happened. You’ll see.”
Alyson frowned, not liking the sound of that. Whatever was going on with Spencer, she didn’t really care. She just wanted to make sure her friend was okay.
They fell into a tense silence. Alyson couldn’t watch the fight. She was too caught up in her own head, caught up in what Spencer could be doing, what he was putting Olivia through. From the couple times that she had been there, she knew that whatever it was, it had a direct correlation to whatever he was doing on his phone. So the question was, who was he talking to, and what could be so important that he would need to jump up and run at a moment’s notice all the time?
“This is the one where my Dad hits the guy, and he just drops. Bam!” Miles was saying, smacking his hands together to mimic the fall the man in the video made.
Jami sat forward, a mirror image of Miles, his wide shoulders blocking the view. “Is this the one where the guy doesn’t get up? One hit, right?” As he spoke, the images played out on-screen. The man didn’t get up.
“Yeah,” Miles confirmed, his expression morphing from excited to grim remembrance. “I heard that guy had permanent brain damage. My dad used to brag that he would be eating from a tube for the rest of his life.”
Alyson felt the scowl form on her face as she stared at Jami’s back. From what she could see of his profile, she imagined from the dark scowl he wore that he felt the same way. Miles’ dad was a monster. He took pride in hurting other people. She was thankful that Miles and Victoria were safe from him now, and she was even more thankful that Jami wouldn’t be fighting the man ever.
“He still holds the championship belt,” Jami stated, sitting back and stretching his arm out behind her. Alyson leaned into him, soaking him in as she rested the side of her face against his chest and closed her eyes. His heartbeat was so strong, so steady, that she couldn’t imagine anyone being able to defeat him.
“Yeah, no one has been able to take it from him in over three years. He’s stronger than everyone.”
Alyson’s head bounced when Jami huffed out a humorless laugh. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered, and Alyson’s stomach dropped as a bad feeling settled over her.
***
Jamison lay in her bed facing her. He stared into her eyes, neither of them speaking a word as they listened to her father rage at her mother in the next room. Alyson didn’t have the strength to cry anymore. There were no tears left. After their attempt to leave that morning, and having been dragged back less than an hour ago, her mother would be too terrified to attempt running away again.
That’s what her father was working on now. Beating her mother into submission. It would work. There was no doubt in her mind.
The only concern weighing on her at that moment was what would happen when it was her turn. She already knew that her father would come soon. He wouldn’t knock on her door. He wouldn’t try to talk it out. He would burst into her room intent on delivering his brand of justice for disobeying him. It didn’t matter the reason behind their actions, he only wanted to ensure that it never happened again.
“You’re mine, Tracy! Do you understand me? Mine! You do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it. Did I give you permission to leave this house?” There was a crash and a thud and Alyson pictured her mother being tossed across the room. Was it a lamp that had broken her fall this time? They only had one left. “Did I?” her father shouted.
“No!” Her mother’s sniffling, terrified wail should have wrenched her heart, but Alyson only felt a disturbing coldness seeping into her veins the longer the fight continued.
“You don’t leave this house,” her father was bellowing. “I tell you when you can walk out that door. I own you! If you want to breathe, you ask me for permission. You’re hungry, you ask to eat my food. We clear? I said are we clear?”
Alyson listened to the sounds of struggling and garbled answers, and she didn’t have to guess what was happening. Her father had his fingers wrapped around her mother’s throat, his face mottled red and smashed nose-to-nose against hers. She’d seen it enough times to decipher the sounds. The realization of what she had to look forward to sent a shudder of apprehension rippling through her.
“He won’t touch you. I won’t let him touch you.” Alyson closed her eyes, absorbing Jami’s fierce promise.
He’d slipped through her bedroom window right after her father tossed her inside and locked the door. Either he’d been waiting and watching for her, or he had really good timing. He wouldn’t tell her, though, even if she asked. So she didn’t. The only thing that mattered was that Jami was here now, holding the little pieces that were left of her together.
If not for him, she would be a mere shell of a person, she was sure of it. Nothing would matter anymore. Jami gave her hope for something better. If one person could be as kind and gentle and caring as hi
m, then that meant there was good in the world, and that gave her the courage to press forward, to look toward the time when she wouldn’t have to live her days in fear.
Alyson’s eyes burst open at the same time her bedroom door exploded. The door frame was splintered from the impact. She knew her father was on one of his rampages again, but she hadn’t realized just how out of control he was until that moment.
He hadn’t even bothered with the lock. Just kicked the door in. Startled, Alyson rolled to her feet, inadvertently placing herself closer to her father’s wrath.
“You little bitch,” he spat. With a storm brewing in his eyes, he flew toward her, raising his arm so fast she had no time to think, much less brace herself. Her head jerked to the side and stars burst in her eyes when his hand connected with her cheek. A white hot flame licked the soft tissue, bringing tears to her eyes.
He looked past her to Jami, who had already jumped to his feet, bristling for a fight. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” Jami warned, his voice so deep and menacing, Alyson couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He’d turned dark and menacing, an air of danger surrounding him almost as thick as the one her father carried with him, but Jami’s was different. His was justified. He didn’t act on emotion alone. He was calculating. Deliberate. In that moment, she knew what an avenging angel looked like—Jami.
“I should have known you were a whore, just like your filthy mother,” her father snarled, directing his hatred for her at the boy who stood his ground in the face of the devil. “Who gave you permission to come into my house?”
Lifting his chin, Jami stared boldly back at her father. “No permission needed. I do what I want and go where I want.” Alyson recognized his words for the dig they were. Her father wouldn’t take the reference to his treatment of her mother lightly. At the open challenge, her father’s nostrils flared.
“You little fucker. I’ve seen you around here, peddling your drugs, robbing stores, people, taking anything that isn’t bolted down. Now you have your eyes on my daughter?”