Flow (The Beat and the Pulse #6) (8 page)

I
felt unsettled
for days after the fight with Storm.

Thursday turned into Friday, which turned into Saturday, and I was still jittery.

They’d moved Ma into a different ward at the hospital, one specifically designed for cancer patients, and I’d taken to calling before I visited. Today, she was feeling better, so I went in to sit with her for a few hours before I went to The Underground.

When I walked in, she looked me up and down and asked, “Who are you?”

On days she didn’t recognize me at all, I decided to tell her I was a volunteer, and I was there to keep her company. It was better that way. I’d learned the more I tried to force her to remember me, the more distressed she’d become, and that wasn’t good for either of us.

If I pretended to be just a guy, she’d be much happier. I wanted her to be happy, and Ma was at her brightest when she could talk someone’s ear off.

“I’m Hamish,” I replied, dragging the chair across the room and placing it next to the bed. “I’m a volunteer…”

“I have a son named Hamish,” she declared. “And you’re Irish.”

“That I am.” I sat, placing my bag at my feet.

“What is a handsome young fellow like you volunteerin’ for? Are you some kind of student?”

Playing along, I nodded. “It’s to teach us bedside manner. It’s very important, you know.”

“I’ll say. Some of these people are rude as hell. It’s good to teach you young people how to relate to someone to their face and not through a screen.”

I smiled, trying not to let my broken heart show. “You’re right.”

“So you just come and sit with all the old, sick people?” she asked, looking me over.

I nodded.

“They tell me I’ve got cancer again,” she declared, taking me by surprise. Ma didn’t recognize me, but she understood what was happening to her. I wasn’t sure if there was a medical term for it, but there was a little bit of clarity in her mind today. Selective but it was there. I lived for these moments.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied.

“Would you stay for a while?” she asked. “I don’t have much to talk about, but I’d like the company. My husband isn’t around anymore, and my son is a hard worker. He’s a fighter, you know.”

At the mention of me, I felt a pang of sadness. “A fighter? You don’t say?”

“He’s really good,” she said proudly. “He does that mixed martial arts. He’s not in the professional leagues or anythin’, but he wins a lot of tournaments. I tell him all the time he should be one of those big-time world champions, but he won’t listen.”

“I’m sure he has a reason…”

“He won’t leave me. That’s his reason.”

My heart twisted. “He obviously cares a great deal for you, then.”

She smiled, a faraway look in her eyes, and I knew her mind was slipping again. Her memories came and went without a care for where or who she was with, but that was the disease. No matter how much I hated it and wished for the opposite, it was just how it was.

“You should get some rest, Mrs. McBride,” I said. “I’ll stay with you awhile if that’s what you’d like.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, settling back into the pillows. “Because I’d like that.”

“It’s no problem at all.”

“Do you have homework? Because you can do your homework, and I won’t tell.”

I laughed and nodded. “You’re real clued in, Mrs. McBride.”

“Of course, I am.
I’m Irish
.”

She smiled and smoothed her long, graying hair behind her ears, flipping the length over her right shoulder. The gesture was so familiar I found myself smiling as memories from my childhood in the Australian outback flooded back. We’d gone from green rolling hills and snowy winters to blistering summers and red dirt that got into everything.

Technically, I did have some homework to do on Lori’s behalf.

Opening the laptop I’d stashed in my bag, I connected to the hospital’s Wi-Fi, clicked on a web browser, and started searching. I didn’t know Storm’s real name, but how hard could it be to track down a guy in the UFC? Those guys had high profiles, what with all their stats and training publicized for gambling sites, television, and Internet coverage…the whole works. I just had to find the right keywords, and then I was set.

Glancing at Ma, who was sleeping soundly, I wondered what she’d make of all this. Of me and Lori and my sudden need to protect. She’d tell me to take the risk, that’s what she’d do. Ma was always about living life to the full, taking leaps and bounds into the unknown. She was one-hundred-percent Irish, through and through. I wondered if she was like that before Da left or if his betrayal had caused her to see life from another perspective. She’d agreed to move to Australia with him when I was still a child, so maybe she had been like that her entire life. Halfway across the world was a big thing.

Turning back to the computer, I continued my search for dirt on Storm. If he’d done something that would come back and hurt Lori, I’d find it.

It didn’t take long before I hit pay dirt. A few choice keywords like Australian UFC disqualification narrowed down to the last year had given me all the information I needed…including his name. Staring at the picture attached to the article on a UFC fan site, I couldn’t believe my luck. I’d recognize his ugly face anywhere, especially after I slammed it into a concrete floor two nights ago.

Mark Ryder.

I scanned the article, and the further I went down the page, the more my rage grew.

Six months ago, a ring girl came forward to the UFC complaining about a fighter who she’d been dating. She had bruising around her neck that police later confirmed were strangulation marks. Someone had placed their hands around the girl’s neck and tried to choke the life from her. The perpetrator was later named as one Mark Ryder, an Australian fighter who was a new entry into the UFC’s welterweight division.

The ring girl had also made claims he’d harmed her in other places that were easily hidden after convincing her it was just some twisted sex game he liked to play. It wasn’t until things went too far that she realized she was in real danger and got herself out.

When the story broke in the media, Ryder lost his sponsorships, and the UFC was forced to drop him from the roster altogether, effectively banning him from ever competing again. Considering they had a zero tolerance policy against physical abuse of any kind, there was nothing Ryder could do to sway the UFC to reconsider.

No wonder the guy had come back to The Underground with his tail between his legs. No one knew his real name, at least not yet, and it was the only place that was left he could fight at. Even if his true identity came out, it wouldn’t matter. That was the screwed-up part. I could name at least five guys in that place who had worse rap sheets than Storm. Way worse.

Snorting, I closed the laptop, my mind going to Lori. She’d been with a guy like that? It explained a lot of things but left a great deal of question marks over everything else.

What if he abused her like he did that ring girl? She was holding something back when I’d asked her about him after the fight. She’d hedged around the obvious like a pro. Like somebody scared of being hurt would. I’d thought it was emotional, but now I was practically certain it was otherwise.

I began to imagine the same kind of marks on Lori’s skin—black bruises and broken bones—and my blood began to boil, causing the vein in my forehead to throb.
I should have cracked his skull wide open.
If he’d touched Lori like that, I’d fucking kill the guy.

Turning my attention back to Ma, she was fast asleep and snoring softy, oblivious to her son sitting next to her. There were a lot of things I didn’t have any control over, like her cancer or her Alzheimer’s, but I did have control over Storm and his access to Lori. I could do something about her safety, and that was everything to a guy like me.

Sliding the laptop back into my bag, I stood and leaned over Ma. Kissing her forehead softly, I pulled up her blankets and tucked her in. Before I went, I made sure she had water and her bag of lollies was in reach. She loved her barley sugar candies.

One good thing came out of my search for the scumbag of the century. It kept my mind off the cancer I may or may not have and my ma and her first chemotherapy session on Tuesday. At least it had done something for my troubles, for whatever pittance it was worth.

Right now, The Underground was calling with another fight and a frank discussion with Lori Walker.

Talk about the weight of the fucking world on my shoulders.

* * *

I
beat
my opponent in record time that night.

The last thing I wanted was to have a blow up with Lori right before I stepped into the cage, not when I had a new round of bills from the hospital to pay. Now more than ever I needed to win and win
big
. The best of the best cost a pretty penny.

With my hair still damp from my shower, I was weaving my way through the crowd around the bleachers, intent on finding Lori, when I almost smacked into a familiar face.

It had been almost a month since I laid eyes on Josie, and so much had happened, but this time, I was actually surprised to see her.

She was wearing a pair of shiny, black six-inch heels, the pair I used to have her wear as we fucked—just the shoes. Her skinny jeans hugged her legs like a second skin, making them look long as hell, and her blouse was open one button too many. A hint of black lace teased through the opening, and I felt like reaching up and closing the gap before someone else ate her alive.

Once upon a time, I would’ve ripped her shirt open to expose her breasts, but now I didn’t feel the urge at all.

“Hey,” she said, her red lips pouting in that sexy way she always used when she wanted something from me. Usually, that something was doing her up against the nearest hard surface. A wall, a table,
the ground
…

“Josie,” I said, my eyebrows rising slightly.

“You look surprised to see me,” she purred, stepping closer.

Yeah, I was fucking surprised. The last time I saw her was when she put a full stop on the car crash that was our relationship. She and I were done, and the last place I expected to see was The Underground.

“What are you doin’ here?” I asked, itching to go talk to Lori. Storm was prowling, and I didn’t want him to prowl near the bar before I had a chance to warn her about his abusive sexcapades.

“
Hamish
,” Josie scolded. “You know why I’m here.”

“Josie…”

“We do this all the time, right? Fight, break up, get back together…” She ran her hands across my chest and pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. It was a move that always got me going. The coy yet sexy come-hither look.

Glancing over Josie’s shoulder, I could see the bar in the distance through a break in the crowd. Lori was flittering back and forth, grabbing down bottles from the shelves and pulling beers, and I swore one eye was on us. Turning my attention back to the woman in front of me, I stared at her and wondered why my dick wasn’t working. This was the way we’d always done things. Fight and then make up with a couple of orgasms, but something was different this time.

I’d gotten a dose of reality at that wedding. I’d come to realize that our whole relationship had been unhealthy from the beginning. We should’ve had fun and left it at that. Trying to make something out of lust had been a big mistake.

“What do you say?” Josie asked, pressing against me. “You know it’ll be good.”

“Josie,” I said more firmly.

Her gaze snapped up to mine. “What? Don’t you want me?”

Curling my hands around her tiny wrists, I pulled her hands away. “What about Dean?”

Her eyes narrowed, and her nose wrinkled—cues that let me know I’d said the wrong thing. “Dean…”

“Is a fuckin’ cock sucker,” I snarled. “He obviously did somethin’ to make you want to come back here.”

“Then what’s the problem? Isn’t this what you wanted? Us, together?”

“Josie…” I took a deep breath and let her wrists go. “He hurt you. This is a reaction, not a solution. What happened at Ash and Ren’s weddin’…it made me realize we’d never make it long-term. We want different things. Deep down, you want another man.” I glanced over at the bar where I caught Lori staring at us. She straightened up and turned away to serve another customer. “And I…” I still wasn’t sure how to finish that thought or if I even should considering all the crap I was dealing with.

Josie turned and followed my gaze, her expression dropping. “Shit…”

“Whatever’s happened, you need to work it out with him,” I said. “I’m not goin’ to be the guy you use for revenge.”

She bowed her head and swiped the back of her hand over her eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, beginning to look embarrassed.

“Don’t think anythin’ of it.”

Josie shuffled on the spot, curling her arms around her stomach. “Is she nice?”

I tilted my head to the side. “Is who nice?”

“The woman at the bar you keep looking at. Does she treat you nice?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know if she feels the same…or if what I feel is anythin’ more than physical.”