Fighting: Fighting for Forever Part 35

She scowls. "Why are you forcing me to leave?"

"Think you've proven you can't keep yourself safe." I nod to Santos and he moves in to take her.

"Come on, Trix." He hands her a tight dress, and she slips it over her head with a demeanor of pure hate radiating from her violet eyes.

Fine. Let her be p.i.s.sed. As long as she's safe. We'll both live through this to fight about it later.

"Now, if we could get this f.u.c.king show on the road." J.P. sweeps his hand toward the open door of what I'm a.s.suming must be an office or conference room.

I head back, but not before I make sure to see Santos and the girls leave the villa, the door closing behind them.

I follow J.P. into a room that has a long table surrounded by chairs. Elijah's sitting at one end, his eyes cast out the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the Vegas strip. I take a seat next to Drake, who's sitting with his head in his hands. s.h.i.+t, this doesn't look good.

J.P. doesn't say a word and leaves the three of us, shutting the door behind him.

"Seems you two a.s.sholes are f.u.c.kin' things up for me." Eli's voice is stern and non-feeling. "Interfered in a little transaction we'd worked out between us and the Wild Outlaw MC."

So this is the s.h.i.+t Drake's dad is into. From surf gang to MC ties that walk way outside of the law. "If you're referring to me saving your son's a.s.s and replacing the s.h.i.+t he owed, yeah, I guess I interfered." You motherf.u.c.ker.

Eli spins in his chair, and I'm struck by how similar he and Drake look. Dark eyes and hair, athletic build, but whereas Drake's style reeks of California wannabe gangster, Elijah's is more mafia with a sprinkling of biker and a dash of serial killer. Even with their similarities, their body language couldn't be more different. My brother has never looked so beaten, and Eli's snarling. "Big shot superstar thinks he can talk s.h.i.+t to me?"

My muscles tense as the urge to wrap my hands around this guy's throat becomes overwhelming. "You called me here. Now tell me what the f.u.c.k you want."

He pulls a gun faster than I can track and points it at me. "Your s.l.u.t mother never taught you boys any respect."

Adrenaline races through my veins, half anger, half nerves, but the anger wins. "You're wrong. She taught us to give respect to those who earn it."

My gaze darts to Drake, who still looks lost in his own head. I don't know what happened in here before I walked in, but whatever it was clearly wasn't in Drake's favor.

"You're not gonna let him go, are you?" I stare at Eli, refusing to break eye contact.

He seems to grasp hold of what little control he has left and holsters his weapon. "I have a proposition for you."

"I only came here to talk about you releasing my brother-"

He burst into an evil laugh that p.r.i.c.ks against my skin.

"Mase." Drake's voice is beside me, but faint. "I already tried."

I glare between them. "What? Why not?"

"Because he took a vow when he joined me." Eli shrugs and stares at his son. "No getting out. He knew that from day one."

"What if he refuses?" No man can make another man do anything he doesn't want to.

He pushes up from his seat and moves around to drop his a.s.s on the table next to Drake. "We terminate those who don't stay loyal."

My flesh crawls at the seriousness of his words. "You'd do that to your own kid?"

Eli tilts his head. "You sure you want the answer to that question?"

I throw an arm out, pointing to a downtrodden Drake. "He's your son. How could you expect this of him? You wanted nothing to do with him for most of his life. Now you're so devoted you can't let him go?" Even if it means so that he can raise his child? I avoid giving all that away. After all, knowledge gives them power.

"Mason, stop."

I turn my glare to my brother. "Stop? Stop what? Defending you? Fighting for you? Dragging your a.s.s out of the bed you made for yourself? I can't do that. I'm your brother, your family-"

"You're not part of this family-"

"f.u.c.k you, Elijah." I push up from my chair and grab my brother around the bicep. "We're done listening to whatever you have to say."

"Don't walk away from me, boy." Eli's voice shakes with rage. "No one walks away from me."

"Yeah? What're you gonna do? Shoot me in a hotel suite in the heart of Las Vegas?"

"There are worse things than getting killed." His words drip with threat.

"You leave my brother and me the f.u.c.k alone, and we'll keep what we know from the cops."

"Don't handle threats well." Elijah leans forward, his fists balled.

"Well then, this should be good practice." I drag my brother from the room, refusing to look back or at anyone until I'm out of the suite and into the elevator.

It's only then I slam my brother against the wall and get into his face. "What the f.u.c.k did you do, huh? What did you promise these guys that they're refusing to let you go?"

He shakes his head, studying the floor as if the tacky carpet will reveal the answer.

"I've always been there for you." I shove him and he doesn't resist. "You owe me something here. All I'm asking is how the h.e.l.l you got in so deep."

The elevator doors ping and an older couple joins us. I move to the opposite wall and try like h.e.l.l to calm my breathing. I don't know what happened in that room before I got there, but Drake didn't leave the same man.

Once in the casino, we head straight out to the valet and wait for him to bring up my truck. I dart my eyes to my brother, who's acting as if his skull has doubled in weight and keeps his chin down.

I pull out my phone and hit Trix's contact info. It rings until her voicemail picks up. s.h.i.+t.

I hit "end" and type out a quick text.

On my way. Stay put. We need to talk.

The valet pulls up with our ride, and I toss him a few bucks and climb in, Drake doing the same while still playing mute.

It's a silent but tense ride home. I jog up the stairs from my garage, eager to get Trix in my arms. This s.h.i.+t isn't over with my brother, but at least I have my woman back.

The place is dark. Not at all what I expected. I check the couch then turn to head up to the loft when my phone rings.

I check the caller ID.

"Hey, Trix, where are you?"

"Hey, Mason . . . sorry, I didn't end up at your house."

"Yeah, I know. I'm here. Where are you? I'll come to you."

She clears her throat. "Oh, um . . . about that. I'm with Angel, and Santos agreed to stay with us."

"What? Trix, just let me come get you. We can-"

"No. Mason, look. I need some time, okay? A . . . a lot has happened, and you're making decisions for me. I just . . . I need time."

Is she out of her mind? "Decisions? When it comes to your safety, it's my job to make decisions."

"No, it's not. I uh, I need some time to think."

"Wait, hold on, is this about me refusing to allow you to continue with this suicide mission you're on? Or telling you to go with Santos?"

"Please, don't make this harder. Time is all I'm asking for."

"How much time?"

Silence stretches between us.

"Trix, I don't understand. I thought things were good. I thought . . ."

"I'm sorry." Her voice shakes with emotion. "I have to do this."

"Do this? Do what?"

"Maybe I'll see you around."

"See me around . . . Beatriks, stop."

"Good-bye, Mase."

"What?" My pulse pounds in my ears, sucking the breath from my lungs.

"You heard me. Good-bye."

"No-" Good-bye?

The line goes dead, and I stare at the phone in my hand, not seeing it.

She told me she'd never say good-bye. I'm sure her learning that I dealt drugs to that biker piece of s.h.i.+t of hers was a jagged pill to swallow, but Trix is strong. She of all people knows what it's like to be backed into a corner and forced to do things we're not proud of for our family.

No, f.u.c.k this. We said no good-byes.

I need to see her. My legs carry me three steps before I realize I have no idea where Angel lives or the slightest clue how to get in touch with Santos. That means I sit on my a.s.s until the morning and start hitting up her house and Zeus's until I find her and force her to give me some answers.

"Why now?" Jessica's voice comes from the stairs that lead down from my bedroom. "It's the middle of the night."

"Business is taken care of, why not leave now?" Drake has her bag slung over his shoulder and his keys in hand. "You can sleep in the car, okay?"

I eye my brother. "You're leaving?"

He only nods.

"You don't have to leave now. Get some sleep and take off when you're rested, man."

"Can't sleep." He heads to the front door. "Driving will be good for me."

Still dressed in her pajamas, Jess turns toward me with a sleepy smile. "Thanks for letting us stay, Mase." She waves, and Drake opens the door for her then guides her out by the small of her back.

"Drake, you sure you're okay?"

For the first time tonight, he looks at me, but there's no emotion in his expression. "Did I ever tell you how I got this scar on my face?"

"Yeah, you got in a fight."

He shakes his head. "Not exactly. I was cut in. Cut in to Eli's crew."

I cringe, wondering how bad that must've been to leave that deep of a scar.

"These guys aren't f.u.c.kin' around, bro. Believe me."

"I do, but I'm not going to let them take down my family. Not if there's something I can do to protect it."

His chin drops to his chest, and he mumbles something that sounds like "that's what I did." He turns his back on me, but freezes in the doorway. "Mason, just know that . . . I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I squeeze his shoulder. "We'll figure this out. You just focus on getting your girl and your baby home safe, yeah?"

He nods and slinks away, leaving me standing in my doorway, wondering what in the f.u.c.k my next move should be.

Thirty-four.

Mason The next morning I'm racing to the Youth Center. It didn't hit me until last night after staring at my ceiling fan for two hours that today is Sunday. I called Blake, whose turn it is to run the MMA cla.s.s, and it didn't take much convincing to get him to give me his s.h.i.+ft.

My tires squeal as I pull into a parking spot, scanning the lot for Trix's car. I don't see it, but maybe she parked out back. I jog to the door and Sylvia jumps when I rush in.

Her hand flies to her chest. "Take it easy on an old lady. You scared the heck outta me."

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm here from-"

"Yes, I remember. Mr. Mason, right?"