Fractured Promises (Reapers Reign, #2) Read online

  “To see how the remarkable Blue-James is testing your sanity, that’s all.” She smirks at me as I run my knuckles under the water. “You know what, Knox? You get to be each other’s saving grace.” Looking up at her, I watch as she disappears in a small whirl of sweet smoke. Throwing water over my face, I walk out of the toilet. If games are what she wants to play then games it is. Hope you’re ready, darling. I don’t play by the rules.

  Before I can even think up my next plan, Blue-James is striding down the hall towards me, flaming red hair flowing wild around her, insanely intense, green eyes burning into mine. She pushes me up against the wall and sucks her bottom lip in between her teeth, biting down on it. Glancing down to see it pinched between her teeth, I feel my cock growing hard. I drag my eyes up to hers as I pull the lip free. “Don’t do that,” I murmur.

  “Do what?” she says, biting her lip again. A small groan escapes my lips. I shut my eyes, breathing in deep. Oh, please, lord help me.

  She runs her hands down mine, leaving ripples of heat in their wake. Grabbing her by her hips, I look into those moss-green eyes I admire so much. I lick my lips, and she drops her hand down to my crotch, taking my dick in her palm, her grip tightening. “Well, well, well. Someone is frisky tonight,” she says as she runs her tongue along her lip.

  My eyes follow it. Squaring my shoulders, I try as hard as I can not to take her right here, right now, and to fuck her hard and fast at that. I pull her lip free again and, as I lower my lips to her forehead, I breathe her in. “Please don’t do that?” She rolls her eyes at me. I quiver “Fuck woman, or that.”

  “Really,” she says. “Tell me why not?” God. She’s all smart mouth and feisty attitude.

  “Because it does things to me that I don’t feel you could handle baby cakes,” I say with a laugh, moving to step to the side of her, her hands slam up to either side of my head, boxing me in.

  “How do you know what I can and can’t handle?” she asks as she does it again, biting down on that fucken lip.

  “Fuck, you’re testing my fucking patience, doll,” I mutter, sucking in a breath as she drags her hands down the wall and over to my torso before finding their way up to the inside of my shirt. Her fingers glide over my abs.

  A cheeky, wee grin sits on her lips, and her eyes slant, cat-like, as she glides her fingertips over and around my abs and up the sides of my ribs, sending fucking chills and panic to break out all over me and my mind. I don’t do fucking touching. This shit is testing my self-control. I will not hurt this one, not Jimmy’s daughter.

  “I’m no good for you, darling.” I push off the wall abruptly before spinning her around. I grab her hands, placing them on her head. My grip tightens, too tight but not once did she flinch or waver. She’s strong and fucken stubborn.

  Looking deep into those eyes of hers, I know them, they have haunted my dreams.

  Lowering my mouth to hers; I bite down on her lip to free it from her teeth. I whisper against her lush, red lips, “there is nothing that I want more right now than to make you pay for testing my self-control, baby.”

  “Oh, Mr. Ambrose, is that a threat or a promise? I work well under heated conditions,” She breathes against my lips as she slips her tongue into my mouth, flicking it around like it has been there before now, like it knows this dance all too well.

  Something in her kiss has my body lurching forward into her more, pushing my body hard into hers.

  I know this kiss. I have had it before. It feels so familiar to me. In my dreams, I'm sure I’ve felt it. I don’t do kissing. I have not kissed a woman since the last kiss I laid on her lips when I had to let her go... So now, tell me why I can’t stop this? I haven’t flinched or pulled away. The cold me knows what to do; the dead me wins over as I feel the old me coming back and breaking.

  As I break free, I run my hands down her sweet, toned body. “I can't do this, not tonight. I’m no good for you.” I whisper, looking up towards the ceiling as if I can find a clue or answer up there. I don’t know what to do. I’ll be disappointed if I don’t find the answer my mind needs.

  “You keep saying that like you get a say in who’s good for me... I’m a big girl, Knox. I have big girl pants on. I’m sure I can handle it.” She pushes out through gritted teeth. I place my hands up on either side of her face, pulling my head down to meet hers.

  “I’m dangerous,” I breathe out, small and simple. “I’ll hurt you.”

  “Mmmmm,” is all I hear her say before her hand finds my cock, again. My cock, who likes her a lot, I must add. She’s holding me there in her palm, fingers tightening, pushing hard through the denim of my jeans. Already I feel as though I may fucking explode at this very minute, her touch is so good.

  “How do you know I won’t hurt you?” She says with a determined kick to her voice and a gleam in those moss green eyes that has a moan escaping my lips and a shudder leaving my body as she gives my hungry cock a few pumps. Then, with a wink, she scoots under my arm and walks away, looking back over her shoulder.

  I mouth to her, “dance with a devil, sweetie, you may just get burnt.”

  “Good, ‘cause I like it hot,” she mouths back, and just like that she is gone, as quick as she came in, knocking my senses for a sixer. I head out to the bar, scanning for her. My cock twitches on cue as I see her leaning up against the wall, laughing like she’s hasn’t just fucked me with her eyes and words. Kash looks at me with a grin. Picking up the jug, I pour myself a beer, bringing it up to my lips. I look at my twin over the rim of my glass, “don’t fucken say it,” I snap, before I take the whole beer in a long refreshing pull.

  “I wasn’t gonna,” he says with a smile.

  “Yeah right” I spot her again, dancing and grinding up against the wall, curling her finger over to me, her lips, plump and red, her legs looking all inviting... Not fucken happening. I need to get away from her before I do something that could get me a beating from Jimmy. Standing, I grab my jacket and whistle to Jamie who’s locked in limbo with Tammy. “I’m out, Brother,” I say with a nod. I’m off. Her pout says it all.

  As I look over into her eyes, I grab a blonde, who’d been eyeing me up all night, giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes. Blue’s vein in her neck pops, her eyes bulge as I pick this woman up over my shoulder and leave to the whistles and cheers of a club full of ramped up men and the gasps from none other than Tammy and my brothers.

  Fuck it! I don’t care. Fucking her from my mind is what I’m doing, and this bitch, right here, is the starch to my itch. I feel her; she’s followed me out. Turning to her, I see that she’s livid, fucken seething more like, “you wanna play that way?” she mouths.

  “Fast and hard.” I breathe into the blonde’s ear, knowing that Blue could see. Her blonde head flies back in giggles, like this is going to be a fun ride. My eyes meet Blue’s as I sink my teeth into this chick’s neck. Never once do I break eye contact, as I flip her over the seat of my bike, so her ass is in the air, hiking up her skirt, and ripping her panties to the side. My fingers find her sweet pussy, circling them around a few times. Her ass is wiggling as she rides my fingers. The dim light from the street lamps outside the bar lights up the anger lacing Blue’s stunning, fucken features. My cock stiffens at the look in her eyes, anger pooled with lust, this is making her hot, I can feel it. Pulling my finger down and unzipping my jeans, my semi-hard dick pops out. I pump it a few times as I gaze deep into Blue’s eyes mouthing, “you like what you see, baby?”

  Her mouth pops open as she runs her pierced tongue over her bottom lip. The light catches the silver, and instantly my cock pulsating hard in my palm, the precum falling from the tip of my knob winking up at the Celtic goddess. I slam my cock hard into this bitch’s dripping wet pussy. Her screams echo out into the inky night swarming around us under the dim street lamps and neon shine of the bar’s open sign. I can’t take my eyes off hers. I see the mirror of anger, hurt and pity in her eyes that match mine. She blows me a fucking kiss, flicks her flaming red locks over h
er shoulder and spins on her heels, flipping me the bird as she struts her tight ass back into the bar. The sight makes my cock twitch harder inside the bitch sprawled out over my bike.

  Grabbing her hair tight, I pull her head back and snake my hand around her neck, choking her. Slamming my eyes shut, I fuck her, just fuck her, slamming each shred of her out of me and into this bitch’s wet pussy, until I’m riding the wave of the climax down into her until my balls are empty. Pulling out, I wipe my cock on the back of her ass and skirt before popping my cock back into my boxers and jeans and slapping her ass as her limp body falls over the seat, and gas tank of my bike. “Up and off, sweetheart. Thanks for the ride.” I wink at her as she peels herself from my bike, pulling down her skirt. Blankly, she just stares at me, “yup, that just happened, now shoo,” I snap at her, clicking my fingers. Shock waves over her face as she scurries back into the bar. Leaning up against my bike, I pull a Marlboro from my packet, watching as the amber red embers burn and flicker. I suck the smoke deep down into my dark soul and watch as it circles out around me as I blow it into the night's sky. Smoke and mirrors, baby, smoke and fucking mirrors. I reach into my pocket seeking out the dove charm. Comfort washes over me. I hate getting flashbacks from all the things I don’t want to remember. Having Blue round does just that. There is something about her that makes me wild and lost, like I’m waving in the wind getting assaulted by the waves of memories that I try so hard to push to the back of my being.

  Chapter Four

  Blue

  I'm Blue James, the Celtic freaking Goddess, the Irish Warrior, who fights out of Ireland and America under the great brawler, Jimmy James, and his Gym Kingdom and Fight Arena. Well, in Ireland I fought under my manager and mother. My uncle and brother were my trainers, and I fought out of the Irish based part of the brawler business that my mom had built up for us. Just me now. I had a brother that I loved more than this sport, and it was this said sport that killed him.

  His death is what brings me here today, just trying to stay clean and make it right. Move on, they say. Get better. If only they knew. It isn’t just the fucken needle I am running from. It’s the epic shit fight coming for me. The Lost Souls, they will be coming for me, no doubt. He will come, they’ll all come. High or hell water, war is coming, that much I know. When? Well, that’s a question I cannot answer. They will keep me on their time, waiting scared, running and on edge. I fought, and I clawed my way, with all I had to get as far away as possible. I won’t be going back to that hellhole and be their fucking private dancer. Tick Tock, goes the clock, yet it’s not what grates on me the most. It’s this silence and this fucken itch.

  I was a hot, freaking mess when the boys came and got me. Now I’m back here in this place that holds memories and pain, and it seems they are everywhere I go. It always follows. We all have demons, and this town is just as cold and empty as the next. Throwing myself back into my training is the escape my body and my mind crave. Being back with my dad, well it’s good, but it’s different too. It's strained. I’ll start my story for you all to read, to experience and maybe feel the pain that my soul bleeds. It’s a long one, a hard one, raw and harsh but it's mine. My life, from beautiful Ireland, back to the hard streets and stress of Brooklyn, New York. Away from my mother and the distraught look in her eyes and the cold, gloomy graveside of a pure soul, lost to the cold hands of this sport that fuels our blood and sets our eyes on fire.

  It’s the silence that wakes me. It always is. Pain punishes me. The needle, well, it numbed me and the guilt, what can I say. That’s what trapped me. I wake to the same old tremors and the same sweats, the clammy skin as the sun shines brightly through the skylight above my bed. Stretching out, I feel my body shake – the effects of all the junk in my body. The bruises and marks, splits and breaks have all but gone but the memories, the nightmares. They’re still here. How did I ever give someone the power to fuck me up this bad?

  Kicking the blankets back and swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I pad slowly out to the kitchen where I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I walk over to the window that overlooks the Brooklyn Bridge and the streets below. I live above the gym, my father’s gym, now the Reapers have finally allowed me to stay alone. I had been staying at the damn hotel, doing one of the worst detoxes known to man, that I’m fucking sure of. Today is a new day though. I’m training and seeing Lilly. She’s my best friend. A smile always breaks out when I think of her. The shit she has had to endure lately is indescribable, and there is me, Blue, fucked up and high as a damn kite, needing her to fix me again, when I should be the one fixing her.

  Walking over to the kitchen, I flick on the kettle to make a cup of coffee before I get dressed for training. Dad has some massive fight night signed up for a newbie fighter he has. Some fucken bad ass he got through his whole, ‘I’m in jail needing saving,’ scheme he has with the local jail. I have to attend. Well, I’m fighting in it, just a showcase, but it’ll be the first time since the souls took me and dragged me to hell and back on their fiery Harleys. All fucked up illusions and hopes of tomorrow. I'm keen to fight again. I’m ready. I want to be free, to be the version of myself I was before this nightmare, the Celtic Goddess fighting with the fiery locks of the Irish warrior and the heart of the fucking lion. Yeah right, if only they knew.

  The sound of the kettle whistling brings me back from my thoughts of yesterdays and back to the here and now. Placing a heaped teaspoon of black gold into my cup, I pour the steaming, hot water over it to burn the beans. As the smell hits me, I quiver at the knees. Every day the smell and feeling get to me, and at the moment it’s better than any drug. No sugar, no milk just straight up black coffee. Bringing the cup up to my lips, I blow ever so softly into it. The aroma whirls up to my nostrils as I walk to the massive French doors that open onto the veranda so I can look down to the gym below.

  My little house is set right on top of my father’s dream. His gym wraps around the street, and complex like a big L. I have the best vantage points. Dad had it built this way, so he had eyes everywhere at any given time. I can see the cage as I look right down through the roof into the whole gym. Everything except dad’s office, the changing rooms and sleeping quarters have glass roofs. It’s the most amazing sight. As a kid, I loved it, running around up here watching daddy and his friends as they trained. Outside in the middle is a massive square grass area with tables and chairs, fire pits and a BBQ. The trees all have fairy lights strung all around, and there is a basketball court, a spa, pool, and sauna.

  Dad has the best gym around for miles, maybe even states. He’s at the top of the UFC fight game and has been for years. He has people from all over the world coming here just to get a taste of the Jimmy James boot camp and training facility. To me though, it’s just home. A place in this world where I can breathe. Up here anyway, down there, well, down there I’m someone different, I’m the daughter, the fighter, the women’s fucking champ 20-0, that’s me, Blue James.

  Pulling out my chair, I watch idly as the usual blokes come into the train, until my eyes are taken by someone I have not seen here before at all. He’s all bad ass image; bike, leathers, combat boots and a killer fucken grin that has my heart doing some random jumping shit. Sipping on my coffee, I just watch him. He shakes out his hair when he pulls his helmet off his head. Pulling an elastic band from around his wrist, he pulls his hair back and blow me fucken down, if I thought he was hot before, now he’s fucking drop-dead delicious. I have to get my ass down to the gym.

  I hear the damn planner alarm, Bray set, beeping its fucking tits off. Time to run with the big brother from another mother. He’ll be fucking waiting. Cracking out my neck, I watch as Mr Sex Appeal glances up here before he walks into the gym. He has my heart stopping, locking my eyes onto his, a small smile plays at the corners of my lips. I flick him a wink before heading back into my room without bothering to look back. I pull out some Nike sweatpants and a simple black Nike sports bra, throwing them on before grabbing my sneaker
s. I tie up my long, fiery locks into a messy bun – if I can call it that. I pull a bottle of water from the fridge and pick up my workout bag on my way out the front door. I head down the stairs and around the side of the gym.

  I can smell him before I see him, the big, burly biker known as the notorious President of the Reaper Reign MC. To me though, he’s a big teddy bear who I can bring down with a mere bat of my eyelashes. Wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning my cheek on his back, I just breathe him in. He’s home and safety all in one. “Hey, firecracker,” he says as his fingers grasp my hands and all the shit in this world just melts away.

  “Hey Bear,” that’s mine and Lilly’s nickname for him. It has been since we were little and he came dressed as a bear to Lilly’s birthday one year. She was obsessed with bears for some weird reason. I still find it hard to wrap my head around. Thank god, she grew out of it.

  “Ready for this run,” I say poking him in his ribs. His eyes are locked on the solo silhouette sitting on the rooftop, wrapped in the duvet that never leaves her side.

  “Still sitting up there, huh?” I say, looking up at my friend with tears pooling in my eyes. I try to blink them away; I wrap my arms tighter around Bray.

  “She sure as shit is, Firecracker, and I don’t know what to do, anymore.” His tone is broken, no longer stable. It comes out in a whisper.

  “Time! That’s all we can give her,” I say simply. There is no courage in my voice at all. Weak and lame, I berate myself as I stretch, ready to run this shit from my system.

  ‘Sweat it out,’ he says. ‘It’s good for you,’ he says.

  The man with the longest freaking legs, six-foot freaking five, is built like a mean machine I’m a pissy five foot, and, sure, I have muscle and a nice athletic build but fuck, I’m coming off one of the world’s most intense highs. Ahhhh, fuck my life and my lungs. I think as he pats my ass.