Distraction. That was just what I needed.
Flint was killing it as Derrick Bailey came strutting into the gym. Why the hell he came to the gym in slacks and a pink button-down, I would never understand.
“Where’s Slate?” he asked from the corner.
“He took off. He had some friends come into town,” I answered absently as Flint’s gloves continued to pound out a rhythm. “He wants us to spar tonight. Go get warmed up.”
The bell rang, and I finally gave him my attention.
“Nah. I’ll work out on my own while I wait on him to get back. He’ll be back later, right?” he asked with his eyes glued to two of the rich girls who used the gym like a country club.
“Nope. I’m locking up tonight.”
His head snapped to mine. I fucking loved that feeling. He didn’t have keys—that much was certain.
“You?”
“Yep. Slate gave me a set of keys.” It was an obvious statement that had been implied with the whole “I’m locking up” thing, but I really just threw it out there to rub salt in the wound.
He slowly nodded as he stared at me. God, it felt good to be one up on that asshole.
“Get changed and warmed up. I’ll meet you in the ring in an hour. I’ve got to finish this up then switch over the towels.”
“You ever get sick of being the maid, Till?” He laughed as he said it. That was Bailey’s way—an insult laced by a laugh to mask it. His mouth painted the picture, but the words told the story.
“Sorry. I don’t have a rich daddy that I can leech off,” I shot back. No laugh. Just an evil glare. That was my way.
“Right. Well, how is your dad? He doing well in lockup?” He smiled.
My nostrils flared. I didn’t have a clue if Bailey knew anything about my father. It wasn’t like I ever spoke about him. But with that shit-eating grin chiseled on his asshole face, I knew that he had done some homework on me.
“Let’s finish.” Flint stepped in front of me, blocking my view. I tried to look around him, but Flint mirrored my every move. “Forget about it,” he urged quietly.
Yeah. I’d forget about it—until I stepped into the ring with that motherfucker. Sparring with Bailey suddenly sounded like a whole lot more fun.
An hour later, with my temper no less quelled, I headed for the ring.
“Go tell Bailey I’m ready for him!” I yelled to Flint, who was oddly not showered or changed yet.
“Nah. I’ll let you get him.” He smiled awkwardly.
“He’s doing it with that girl in the locker room,” Quarry announced as he took a bite from an apple.
“What?”
“You know, doing it. Like, having sex,” Quarry clarified as if that were the part I couldn’t understand.
Flint smacked him on the back of his head then nodded, letting me know that Quarry wasn’t wrong.
“Dumbass,” I cursed as I stormed into to the locker room.
The door to the massage room was shut, but even I could hear the moans echoing around. I slammed my fist against the door and heard a woman squeak in surprise.
“Let’s go, Bailey.” I was fucking pissed. Not because I really cared that he was fucking some sorority girl. But rather that he was doing it at the gym with several kids still milling around. Slate would destroy him if he found out.
“Give me a minute . . . Maybe five,” he called out, causing his girl to giggle. Within seconds, the moans started up again.
I was going to fucking kill him. Plain and simple. I stomped out of the locker room but only long enough to dig the keys out of my bag. With the flip of my wrist, I swung the door open to their not-so-private refuge.
“Son of a bitch!” Derrick cussed as the chick grabbed her shirt to cover her breasts.
“Get out!” I growled.
He didn’t budge, but the chick shimmied up her shorts as she scrambled past me. “Really?” he huffed, dragging his own pants up.
“There are fucking kids here. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Well, currently, blue balls. Thanks for that, dickhead. You think I can convince the other one to suck me off?” His eyes, tone, and face were stone-wall serious. So much so that I decided he had problems way bigger than me or even Slate.
Then he smirked.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I barked.
Reaching into his pants, he snapped a condom off. He made a less-than-half-assed effort to look for a trash can before dropping it on the floor. “Have housekeeping clean that up for me.” He laughed. “Oh wait . . . That’s you.”
I was honestly too stunned to react as he walked past me. Bailey was a fucking prick, but he didn’t have balls. And if he suddenly thought he was going to grow a pair, I was going to rip those fuckers off.
I spun around and grabbed his shirt, slingshotting him hard against the wall.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I roared into his face.