No Limits (The Fighter Series Book 6) Read online

  My mother is a saint with the heart of a golden angel. She believed once you were married, you were married forever, through thick and thin. Which on a normal basis, I would agree. But when said thick and thin turns into drug use, mental and physical abuse added with danger, that’s when I draw a line.

  One day, Jordon visited Mom and to his surprise, she was sporting a black eye and Dad a crack pipe. We don’t know when or how Dad got hooked on the shit, but it was after I was grown and gone. Anyway, Jordon grabbed Mom’s clothes and stormed out of the house with Mom gripped in his hands. He dared Dad to do something about it. I’m not playing favorites, but my brother would’ve beaten my dad into a coma had he tried anything.

  Over the years, not much has changed except the fact we have nothing to do with the worthless excuse of a human.

  “Did you give it to her?” I ask.

  I feel like doing a victory dance when he smiles. “She got a direct line to a rehab.”

  I giggle, but it fades and I narrow a serious glare on him. “I am not her. Do not take her bullshit out on me.”

  He gives a curt nod. “I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry. Hearing her voice brought back some deep seeded anger.”

  “Next time, call me and I’ll do something to make you smile.”

  He laughs. “This weekend we’re going to buy you a new bed. And you’re not going to argue about it or you won’t have a choice in the one that gets delivered.”

  He retreats out the door without giving me a chance to refute. I despise handouts and he knows it.

  Cheater…

  A hollow core door is my only level of protection between the outside world and my safe haven I call home. I shut the flimsy thing behind me and toss my bag onto the love seat—one of the few things in my small studio apartment that reminds me better days are yet to come. I will crawl my ass out of the ruins of my past and into the sunlight, and I’ll do it all by myself.

  Grabbing a soda from the fridge and a personal sized pizza from the freezer, I preheat the oven. Ah, the single life. Gotta love it. My phone rings, displaying Scarlett’s face and her perfectly tight curls.

  “Checking to make sure you’re alive,” she says when I answer. “I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”

  “I’m alive, but only barely. Jordon was in a bury the body mood today and it didn’t help I overslept.”

  “Bed again?”

  I sigh. “I’m willing to sell my soul for a new mattress.”

  “Don’t say that. You know I’ll show up with hot guys and a bed for you.”

  Scarlett—my absolute best friend from seventh grade and my complete opposite. She’s preppy. I’m not. Her skin isn’t marked. I’m tatted up. She still lives with her parents. I do not. She’s beautiful, tall with dark brown kinky curls. I’m pretty, short with blonde hair and a daredevil with colors. The most surprising thing—she doesn’t cuss or say filthy words. I can’t say a sentence without one.

  “You do that and I’ll quit talking to you for a month,” I reply.

  “You couldn’t do that if you tried,” she fires back with a laugh.

  “You’re right,” I sigh. “Anyway, Jordon is going to kidnap me and take me to get a bed this weekend.”

  “Good. It’s about time. You’ve needed one for a while. So my patience is gone. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me about the chiseled beefcake from the other night, but apparently you like to torture me.”

  I chuckle. “We grabbed something to eat and he took me home.”

  She squeals like the cheerleader she was. “Does this mean you’re getting out of your dating hiatus?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” She falls flat. “Well, did you…” she trails off because she’s a prude.

  “Say it,” I snort.

  “Did you sleep with him?” she whispers bashfully.

  “You mean did I water my dick drought? Say sex, Scar.”

  She grumbles but then laughs. “I’m beginning to hate being your friend.”

  “Just beginning too?” I cackle. “We’ve been friends forever. You can’t quit me. But, to answer your prudish ass, no. I didn’t screw him. I’ve sworn off men and if I need any help, I’ll help myself. It’s been working for a few years now. Speaking of…you were really sweet on your guy. What happened?”

  I can feel her cheeks burning through the phone. Don’t let her inability to say raunchy things fool you. She’s the classic “lady in the streets but a freak in the sheets.” She’ll kiss and tell but lay a blanket of innocence over it. She’s contradictory. The very word “pussy” will have her beet red and in a giggle fit, but she’ll have a grand ol’ time with a man on their first date.

  “I did and it wasn’t impressive,” she whispers her disappointment.

  “Ouch.”

  “I faked it. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

  “Double ouch. Is he not teachable?”

  “I’ll pass. If he’s not a man in the sheets, how could he be a man with my heart.”

  I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “It’s sex, Scar. You’re not supposed to be thinking about a happily ever after.”

  “I need a man who can blow my socks off.”

  “You should be the one blowing his socks off.”

  She titters. “You’re horrible. Let’s grab something to eat this weekend.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’ll text you. Love your face.”

  Immediately after hanging up, my phone chirps.

  Kyce: I have a feeling I’ll need another greasy slice of pizza come Friday. You down?

  I don’t respond. No need for him to think I’ve been secretly waiting by my phone for him. Instead, I pull out tonight’s worthless dinner from the oven and sit on the couch. I eat, blankly watching the television with Kyce on my mind. Our kiss replays, the way he tasted, the way he took control of my mouth. In my moment of daring rebellion, I wasn’t expecting to experience such desire, especially with a stranger. But damn if he didn’t ignite a lust within my stomach that reached through my body and caused my cold heart to flutter awake. Although I enjoyed all the sensations scattering through me, I also hated it. I sank my nails into his skin, stopping it.

  As much as I try convincing myself it wasn’t great, it’s all I can think about. When I close my eyes, his gaze is the first thing that breaks through the darkness. When I shower, his smirk is what I picture. He’s everywhere without being anywhere.

  Jolie: You keep eating like that and you’ll be waiting on a heart attack.

  Kyce: You’re worried about me? Awww.

  Jolie: Do you not have anyone to stroke your ego? Poor thing seems all alone.

  Kyce: Trust me. My ego doesn’t need stroking.

  Kyce: Let me take you out this weekend.

  Jolie: What part of not interested did you not hear?

  Kyce: You said the words but your eyes told another story.

  Jolie: What’s with men and their eye talk?

  Kyce: Windows to your souls. They talk when your mouth doesn’t.

  Jolie: That’s an overused and false metaphor.

  Kyce: Are you sure about that?

  Jolie: Do you want me just for my eyes?

  Kyce: More than that.

  Jolie: I’m not looking for anything.

  Kyce: Yet you sought me out…

  Jolie: Easy target. You were cute and I could tell your ego needed reviving.

  Kyce: Whoa. You just gave me a compliment. Are you okay? Still breathing?

  Jolie: Have a good night, Kyce.

  Kyce: I’ll try again tomorrow. Good night.

  I toss my phone on the cushion beside me and flop back into the couch, closing my eyes and smiling. He gives me butterflies and he’s not even here.

  I detest this feeling even though I’m relishing it.

  Chapter 5

  Mom hooks her arm through mine as we walk downtown window shopping. It’s our monthly routine. Call me a Momma’s boy and I’ll smile and agree
with you. We stroll down the broken and uneven sidewalks of our old, but still very active town, pausing in front of the stores to see what they offer.

  “Are you getting hungry?” I ask as she stops in front of a clothing store admiring the raspberry-colored sweater worn by a mannequin.

  Mom flicks her hazel eyes up to me, the sunlight causing them to gleam. “A little.” She looks back to the sweater and tilts her head. “Do you think your father would like this on me?”

  “Dad probably likes anything you wear,” I reply.

  Softly, she smacks my stomach. “That’s something he’d say.”

  “You’ve been married to the man for an eternity. I’m sure by now he’s seen you in everything and loves it. If you want it, go try it on. I’ll get it for you.”

  She shakes her head, her copper hair swaying from side to side. “No. I don’t need any more clothes. Window shopping just means looking. No buying.”

  She tugs me, and we begin walking. One foot in front of the other, shoulders back, Mom strides like she’s the mayor of the city. A petite dominator owning the ground beneath her feet.

  Passing a quaint bistro, I pivot without saying a word, leading Mom into the place. We’ve eaten at most of the restaurants in town, but this one is new. Mom doesn’t say anything, only smiles as we’re greeted and seated by the perky blonde hostess. Just as I pull out her chair, the waitress comes springing over and takes our drink order.

  “I think you’d like the Cali-Club,” she says looking over the menu.

  I laugh. “Mom. I’m old enough to decide my food.”

  She gives me a look. “You’re still my son. Do you think my maternal instincts disappear when you grow up? Stop whining.” She looks back to the menu. “You’ve never been too fond of the avocado, so maybe try the regular club instead.”

  “Mom. Would you like for them to put it in a blender so you can spoon feed me too?” I jest.

  She grins at me as the waitress sets our drinks down. We order our food. Of course, I won’t go against what Mom suggests. The wrinkles beside her eyes when she beams are priceless.

  “Ryker said Carter has a fight coming up in a few months. Will you be going?” She takes a sip of her drink.

  I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know.”

  “You support Ryker when they’re his bouts. Why not support the fighter he’s training?”

  I lean my elbow onto the table, rest my chin into my palm, and grin. “You’ve got pretty eyes.”

  Her laugh is melodious. “Deflection. I hear you loud and clear. Jackson said the casino is doing well.”

  “It is. The weekends more so than the weekdays.”

  “I’m glad you don’t work the weekends. I don’t want you getting hurt or forgetting about having a love life.”

  I want to roll my eyes. I want to so damn badly, but it’s mom. If I do, she’ll level me with her death stare and that scares me more than a pissed off Ryker. I swallow instead. “I’m not going to get hurt at work and I don’t want a love life right now.”

  “You don’t know that. What if someone starts a fight and you have to break it up?”

  “Are you like this with Jackson and Ryker too?” I ask.

  “Well…” she says softly, trailing off.

  “Of course not. Jackson’s your man child. Ryker’s your fighter child. And I’m…?”

  “My son,” she replies.

  Playfully, I narrow my eyes. “That was a safe answer. Besides, I’ve been helping Ryker train for years. Give me the benefit of the doubt.”

  “It’s hard enough knowing that Ryker puts himself in harm’s way for a living. You’re not too far behind him. You never know about people nowadays. You’ve always followed Ryker, in some way or another. I still remember you coming home all scraped up because you had your brother’s back.”

  “That’s what brothers are for.”

  There’s a distance in her eyes and it’s opposite from anything my mother has ever been. “Mom. What’s really on your mind?”

  She glances down to her hand and for some reason it makes my stomach sink. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Mom,” I warn…gently.

  “It’s just I’m getting older and—”

  “You’re sixty-five going on forty. Don’t start with the I’m getting old sh—stuff,” I save myself. Mom taught us years ago that we don’t cuss in front of her. She’s not naive. She knows we do, but respecting her is a must.

  Eyes full of worry and warmth land on me. “When will you give me a grandbaby to spoil? Heck, I’ll be happy if you’d bring a girl home for me to meet.”

  “Mom,” I grumble, closing my eyes so I don’t roll them. “I barely have my own life on track. No need to bring a child into the chaos. And I’ve already told you. I don’t want a girlfriend right now.”

  “You’re twenty-five and such a sweet man, Kyce. Any woman would love for you to be in their life. Is it because of Melody? You have to learn to let the pain go. Don’t let her—”

  “Mom.” My tone slips out sternly. “She doesn’t control my future. I’m just not interested in relationships for my own reasons that I don’t want to discuss.”

  “All you boys are so arduous,” she titters. “Strong-minded, confident, undeniably stubborn and prideful. That has your father written all over it. Thankfully, he wasn’t afraid to love.”

  “I’m not afraid to love. I’m just…” How the hell do I explain wanting fuck buddies so I don’t have to deal with the complications of a relationship to my mom?

  “Your soul has never been touched by true love, Kyce.”

  “You’re starting to sound like a Disney movie,” I tell her. “Whatever soul touching love I’ll experience will mean she’ll have the best untouched parts of me.” Fuck that didn’t sound right. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Please, Mom. Change the subject. This is awkward.”

  “As you wish.” She hums, and I hear the laughter in her voice. “For the record, I know you’re not a virgin.”

  “Mom!” I exclaim, smacking the table in horrified shock.

  Her eyes laugh at me.

  “That is…You shouldn’t…” I take a breath. I want to crawl under the table. “I didn’t mean that when I said untouched parts.” For some reason, defending my statement is my go-to. “I wouldn’t discuss that with you anyway.”

  “I know,” she says simply. “That’s what your father is for.”

  I could kiss the waitress for interrupting the most horrifying moment of my life when she sets our sandwiches down.

  Thankfully, she leaves that fucking conversation alone as we eat. Instead, she gets on her favorite subject—her grandkids—and the rest of the time is all about Gracie and Kaden.

  After dropping Mom off at home and chatting with Dad for a minute, I head back to my house. I might have been with Mom all day, but one person has been sneaking into my thoughts. She’s different and very intriguing.

  Kyce: The greasy slice of pizza craving has passed. Wanna try a steak instead?

  Jolie: Sounds too much like you’re asking me out on a date. No thank you.

  Kyce: Did I say steak? I meant juicy cheeseburger.

  Jolie: What if I’m a vegetarian?

  Kyce: You ate pepperoni…

  Jolie: Damn. Good catch.

  Kyce: You know you want to.

  After waiting a few frustrating moments and no response, I tap the button to call her. Text messages don’t carry my voice, which is what I need to convince her to say yes to a date.

  “I need a friend to come eat with me so I don’t look like an idiot all by myself,” I say when she answers.

  She giggles. “I’m sure it doesn’t matter who you’re with for you to look like an idiot.”

  It makes me laugh. “But if I bring a hot girl, everyone will look at you and not me making a fool of myself.”

  “If I go watch you be an idiot, will you quit pestering me?” Her tone is flirty and I’m grinning like a lucky bastard.

  “N
ope. Unless you’re a total drag and a bitch.”

  “I’ll make sure I’m the biggest bitch then.”

  And the victory is mine. “Ah. So you’re agreeing to have dinner with me? What time should I pick you up?”

  “I haven’t agreed.”

  “Oh, but you know you want to,” I croon.

  “For a man who continuously gets rejected by the same woman, you’re pretty tenacious.”

  “That’s because I know you want to go even if you don’t know it yet.”

  She laughs. “What makes you so sure?” Yet again, she’s flirting.

  “You might want to practice on your tones. I don’t hear the conviction behind it.”

  “It’s hard when you’re twisting my arm.”

  “So is that a yes?”

  “Sure, but let’s make it for next weekend. I have a pretty busy week ahead of me. Six Friday?”

  “Seven would work better for me since I get off at six.”

  “Deal. Pick me up at the same spot you dropped me off the other night.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  I hang up a triumphant man. One whose foot is finally in the fucking door with her.

  Chapter 6

  Hell. That’s the only word I can use to describe this week leisurely passing by as I impatiently waited for tonight. I haven’t been this damn excited in a long, very long fucking time. I have no idea why, but something about this woman is invigorating.

  Jolie’s sitting on a bench looking down at her phone when I pull up to the curb. When she glances up, she smiles, but before I’m able to hop out of the truck and be a gentleman, she gets in.

  Her hair is in a messy bun thing on top of her head, the dyed purple snaking through her blonde strands with her bangs draped to the side. Today she wears black-rimmed glasses. Today I’m in a ton of trouble because those glasses are hot.

  “Hi.” I cast a smile. “Ever been to 5th Street Grille?”

  “Isn’t that the new place by the mall? I’ve heard of it but never been.”