Brawler's Baby: An MMA Mob Romance (Mob City Book 1) by Holly Hart Read Free Book Online

the garbage bag from the can and leapt frantically, frenetically into action, sweeping up whole swathes of empty beer bottles with my arm and sending them crashing into the bag, crushing empty pizza boxes and stuffing them in behind.
    Jesus, Conor, this place is a dump. When this is all over, you need to take a long look at yourself.
    Two sharp knocks rang out at the door. It sounded like someone was in a hurry. I kidded myself, thinking that it might have been the cashier. I probably owed the motel money.
    Or maybe I'd been too loud when I stumbled back in from the bar last night. Maybe.
    Truth was, I knew exactly who was on the other side of that door – but for the first time in years I felt the cold clench of nervousness holding my body in its vice-like grip instead of feeling completely and utterly in control.
    I stumbled toward the thin wooden door-frame, not bothering to pull the curtains back and peek through the window. It was either her or it wasn't. There were no two ways about it.
    I pulled the door open.
    She looked every bit as beautiful as the day we'd first met, still I couldn't help but notice that she seemed…tired and not herself. Hell, I didn't even know her real name.
    Then again, I haven't seen her in years. I'm not the same guy, either .
    "Hi…"
    I looked down at my hand, suddenly remembering I had a half-full black garbage bag clenched between my fingers. I set it down, and the sound of the glass bottles inside clinking against each other finally startled me out of my stupefied daze.
    "Rachel." I mumbled.
    Her eyes opened wide at the sound, flaring briefly before returning to a suspicious darting motion, nervously scanning the balcony.
    "Can I come in?" She spoke hurriedly – uncharacteristically. There was something in that tone of voice, something that I didn't recognize, at least not from her. It was fear.
    It felt like a dream. I nodded, pushing the door backward with my thick shoulders as I stood aside to let her pass.
    "Close the door, please." She pleaded. I could see her hands trembling.
    I obliged without hesitating. I didn't have to be a mind reader to know that whatever the hell was going on here, she was terrified – about as scared as I'd ever seen a girl. I didn't like it.
    I felt the familiar prickling of adrenaline on the edge of my consciousness, that oh-so-pleasant rush of endorphins that was the only drug I'd ever needed. To men like me, who knew how to take advantage of it, it was no less potent than anything you can buy on any ghetto street corner.
    "What the hell's going on Rachel?" I growled. I didn't know how to react, so my mind fell back into its default setting – anger. It was the protective shell that had carried me through the last few years, and my mind wasn't going to give up on it that easily. "Or Maya – whoever the hell you are."
    Something was clutched in her hand, and I saw her hand clench around it, the backs of her fingers whitening with the slight strain.
    "I got your message," she said finally, thrusting the hand out toward me, palm facing down. "Thank you."
    "For what?" I asked curiously.
    She turned her hand over, opened it up and revealed a small yet undeniably ornate orthodox silver cross sitting in the palm of her hand. It was attached to a cheap steel chain and wrapped in a white bar napkin.
    She still has it!
    "Room fifty-seven, Sunset Motel," she said without answering my question. "What did you make on that fight? Fifty grand?"
    "Fifty, a hundred," I grunted. "Who cares – it's just numbers."
    She laughed. It was every bit as light, every bit as dainty as I remembered – and it seemed entirely out of place in a place like this. I looked around at the motel room, practically ashamed of where she'd found me. It was faded, old and there were cigarette burns on the sheets, on the pillows, and carpet that made a mockery of the no-smoking sign, yellowed by age and cigarette smoke, on the bedside table. "You haven't changed." She said with a slight