Paxton's Promise (Gloves Off #3)(33)
I wriggled underneath him and halfheartedly tried to fight him off. He laughed at my failed attempts, infuriating me more. What if I wasn’t a fighter? What if I was really a helpless girl who was being used and abused like this?
His hand slid down to my breast and he squeezed, pushing it up to where it almost popped out of my shirt. “My wife never lets me bite her,” he murmured, staring hypnotically at my skin. “Just thinking about sinking my teeth into your flesh is making me so f*cking hard.”
Eyes wide, there was no way in hell I was going to let him bite me. Licking his lips, he grabbed me by the shoulders, opening his mouth wide. Before he could strike, I looked over at Scar who nodded his head. Not like I was looking for his approval, but I was letting him know I wasn’t going to take anymore.
My arms were restrained, but I still had my hands. It just so happened, I didn’t have to play fair. I could be as dirty as I wanted and by God I was going to punish this f*cker. Gripping his dick as hard as I could, I squeezed, twisted, and pulled until his body convulsed and he fell over, shouting in agony.
Quickly getting to my feet, I didn’t waste any time before drawing the blood I needed to win. Swinging my leg up, I brought it straight down with punishing force, slamming my heel into his nose. Blood sprayed across the mat and the nasty bastard was done; I had knocked his ass out.
Sighing in relief, I fell to my knees and silently prayed to God, thankful I’d made it through the first fight. Two more to go, and Pax could keep his life.
I was taken to Scar’s office and left there, when all I wanted to do was go back home and take a scalding hot shower. The door to the office opened and Scar strolled in with a wad of cash in his hands and a huge smile on his face
“I think this was a record night. You earned me close to a million dollars.”
“Congratulations,” I remarked dryly. “I’m ready to go home, can you get someone to take me back? I need to get there before questions are asked.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get home. Striker’s offered to take you. I had several people request to fight you, but I’m going to stick to my word and leave it to two more fights. The longer you stay around, the greater the chance someone recognizes you. I can’t have that.”
“When do I fight next?” I asked.
“One week. I’m going to go through the requests and pick out which one will benefit me the most.” He nodded toward the door. “Now go.”
Without wasting another minute, I bolted out of the chair, straight for the door. Camden waited just outside, his arms crossed over his chest, blindfold in hand. He didn’t even speak to me as I followed him down the hall to a set of doors. There we stopped and he put the blindfold over my eyes.
“I’m impressed,” he murmured in my ear. “I feel sorry for Paxton if he pisses you off.”
I didn’t even respond as he led me to whatever car he was using. He helped me inside and shut the door. During that short time alone, I leaned my head back and peeked through the bottom of the blindfold. We were definitely in an industrial section of town. I didn’t recognize it, but I did see a name on one of the buildings . . . Tate Industries and Supply.
When Camden got in the car, he started us on our way. “You not going to talk to me?”
“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. “How can you be a part of all this?”
“It’s all I have.”
“That’s not true. You have me and everyone else. So what? You made a mistake and did something stupid. Okay, maybe something really stupid, but I know your brother still loves you.”
“It’s too late for that. I’m not the same person anymore.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re Striker now. The Camden I know and care about is still in there somewhere. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have cared if I was given to Rage.”
He growled. “That’s not going to happen. I could give a rat’s ass if you fight tools like that jackass tonight, but handing you over to Rage is unimaginable.”
The blindfold lifted and he tossed it in the backseat. We were in his sports car and on the highway headed back to my apartment. “Who is he Camden? What am I dealing with? He’s left me messages with black roses all week. It’s freaking me the f*ck out.”
His eyes went wide. “He’s been doing that?”
“What does it mean?”
“I’ve never seen or talked to the guy because he walks around with a hood over his head, but I’ve heard stories. I don’t know if any of them are true, but I’m not taking any chances where you are concerned.”
So it was Rage with the hood over his head sitting with Scar and the others. “Tell me. I have to know what I’m dealing with here.”
Sighing, he looked over at me and something passed in his expression. Concern? Fear? I couldn’t tell. “He’s killed people, Gabby. And not just anyone . . . they’ve all been women. I don’t know how or why, but that’s what I’ve heard.”
The bile rose like a jagged knife in the back of my throat. Not only was this guy a stalker, but he was a murderer too. Tears stung the backs of my eyes. “What am I going to do?”
He pulled into the parking lot of my apartment and parked. “I don’t know. Just be careful and don’t tell anyone about this. They will go after Paxton if you do. And then nothing will stop Rage from coming after you.” He nodded toward the Hummer. “Now get in and go straight to Paxton’s. I’ll follow you over there.”