Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3) (15 page)

When a few seconds passed and she remained silent, Nikko grunted in disgust and turned away, giving Pen a placating smile.
“Thanks for inviting me, but I’m going to be in Laughlin all weekend.”

Laughlin? So that’s where he was going this weekend. He must have been talking to his sister that night at Carboni’s, or maybe one of his nieces? He could have told her that—stubborn jerk. He knew what she’d been thinking, and yet he’d given her only his denial that he was involved with another woman as explanation.

Relief swept over her and she almost laughed out loud, but her brief moment of joy quickly crashed and burned when he told Pen a second later, “Maybe some other time.”

“Great, I’ll call you,” she promised, flashing him her patented Pen grin.

And there it was, ladies and gentlemen, Penelope Cantrel in
action. It was truly a thing of beauty, when it wasn’t targeted at the guy
Vi wanted. She had a way with men that seemed to defy logic. They freaking loved her. Why would Nikko be any different? As much
as
she wanted to, she couldn’t be mad at her friend. Vi had been given more than one opportunity to tell Pen she had feelings for Nikko.

She studied Nikko, trying to read the sincerity in his promise, but got nothing—until Pen excused herself. But the moment she closed the door, Nikko spun on her and that all-too-familiar scowl was back on his ridiculously handsome face.

“What the fuck was that?” he growled as if this was somehow
her
fault.

“I think you just made a date with my secretary,” she snapped back, not even trying to hide her snark as she closed the lid on her carton of General Tso’s, no longer hungry.

“No shit. Why haven’t you told her about us?”

“Because there isn’t any
us
.”
Is there?
She left the end of the sentence an unspoken question. Did she want there to be an
us
? Regardless of her answer, there
couldn’t be. Not as long as she was seeing him as her patient.

Her denial earned her a darker glower. Nikko moved toward her with a predatory grace that made her feel like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s snare. The challenging glint in his eyes sounded off alarms in her head like the bells of Notre Dame. “You want me to prove you wrong, Clover?”

The seductive lilt in his voice had her senses clamoring with awareness. She wasn’t sure how he intended to do that, and the wild part of her that Nikko seemed to court rose up out of nowhere and wanted to put him to the test.

But she couldn’t—not here. What was it about this guy that made Vi want to throw caution to the wind? What was it about him that made her feel more alive than she ever had in her life? Nikko was a guy that lived his life on the edge, and whenever she was around him, she found herself wanting to grab hold of his hand and leap. This couldn’t be healthy—could it?

“I wasn’t expecting you to come by today. Was there something you wanted?”

Her attempt to bring his visit back to neutral territory failed miserably when he read into her question and flashed her the sexiest grin she’d ever seen in her life, that dimple making a rare appearance—and, OMG, her panties were actually getting wet.

He stopped in front of her desk and planted his palms beside General Tso’s, putting those impressive arms on display. Her rioting heart sent blood thundering through her veins. Being this close to him did traitorous things to her body, and by the hungry look his eyes, he knew it, too. Damn him . . .

“Tell her, Clover,” Nikko warned, his deep voice a sexy rasp she felt all the way to her core. “Or I will . . .”

The threat hovered in the air between them, the challenging flare in that fighter’s eyes daring her to deny it. What good would it do to lie to him or herself? He knew as well as she did that there was something going on between them. Just because neither of them knew what that might be exactly didn’t make it any less real. He didn’t seem to care that he was violating her ethics and pushing her past her comfort zone. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was well aware of what he was doing and enjoying himself immensely.

Nikko wasn’t the kind of guy who went through life following the rules. He made them up as he went along and seemed perfectly content to live that way. Vi, on the other hand, found comfort and security in structure. She liked boundaries, living within the borders of order and control. Perhaps that was what attracted her to Nikko so much, aside from his handsome face and killer body; he intrigued her in a way no one else ever had.

But as much as she might like Nikko, and as much as Vi might be a rule follower, she wasn’t a spineless wallflower. No way in hell was she about to sit here and be bullied by this overbearing ex-Marine who she suspected gave orders and expecting them to be followed.

“You will do no such thing,” Vi hissed back. “Penelope might be my friend, but she’s also my employee. This”—she gestured between them—“can’t happen as long as you’re my patient, and I’ll not have you doing or saying
anything that can damage my reputation or my career.”

Seconds ticked by, interminably painful as they remained locked in a battle of wills. She fully expected him to come over her desk and kiss
her into submission. It wouldn’t take long for her to tap out. Already,
the moisture between her legs told her she was fighting a losing battle with this man. He had her against the cage . . . So it surprised the hell out of her when he stood, squared his shoulders, and said, “Fine.”

Taking a step back, he plopped into the chair across from her. She didn’t like the sound of that
fine
, and unease prickled up her spine. It wasn’t like him to give up so easily, and there was a part of her that wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

“Dean called me into his office today. He said you contacted him this morning and asked him to let me start training again. Also said you signed off on my psych eval. Why would you do that?”

Nikko jumped tracks and turned a one-eighty on her so fast it took Vi a minute to catch up. He had a very blunt, in-your-face communication style that took some getting used to. “Is he going to do it?” she said.

“I don’t know yet. He said it’s not only up to him. You still didn’t answer my question. Why did you do it?”

“I called Dean and asked him to let you start sparring because I know you’re going to do it anyway, and I don’t want to see you get into any more trouble. You need to fight, Nikko. After seeing you last night, I realized that. It’s how you cope with whatever it is you’re dealing with. I’m here to give you more tools to manage your emotions, not take them away. I want to help you. That’s my job. My calling Dean had nothing to do with what’s happened between us outside of this office.”

He sat there a moment watching her with that all-too-perceptive stare, saying nothing, but there was a lot going on behind those silvery-blue eyes.

After a moment, he nodded, as if satisfied with her answer. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders.

“If it matters, I believe Dr. Morrison would have done the same thing. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about while you’re here?” She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “I have a few minutes before my next appointment.”

He met her gaze and held it. She wasn’t sure how long they sat there staring at each other. Finally, he muttered a curse and dragged his hand through his hair, exhaling a pent-up sigh. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let you in.”

His confession caught her off guard. “What if we start by me asking a few questions? It’s just standard stuff Dr. Morrison’s going to need to know when he takes over your case next month.”

He nodded, but when she grabbed her pen and paper to take some notes, wariness darkened his gaze.

“I promise I’ll be gentle,” she teased, trying to lighten his somber mood but failing miserably. “How are you sleeping at night?”

He shrugged.

“Do you dream a lot?”

He shrugged again.

So getting information from him was going to be about as easy as traversing a cliff. “How many hours a night do you sleep?”

“Three, sometimes four.”

That’s it? Who could function on that? No wonder he was having
rage blackouts. Sleep deprivation could trigger all sorts of psychological
issues. “Would you like me to prescribe something to help you sleep?”

He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Hell no. The last thing I need is to get stuck in a nightmare.”

“You have them a lot?—nightmares?”

“Enough.”

“Are they always the same?”

“Pretty much.”

“Will you tell me about them?”

He shook his head.

“As you know, I’ve been trying to obtain a copy of your military records.”

Nikko’s eyes snapped up, fixing on hers like a pair of silver bullets—all emotion on complete lockdown, except anger. Oh, there was a lot of that.

“How’d that go for you?”

“Not well, though you already knew that. They told me they had no record of you. How is that possible?”

“My records are sealed.”

“Why?”

“If I told you that, then there would be no reason to seal them, now would there?”

“Come on, Nikko, how can I or Dr. Morrison help you if we don’t know what happened to make you this way? Anything you tell me in here is confidential.”

He gave an indignant snort. “You’re more than my therapist, and you know it, Violet.”

She wasn’t used to hearing him use her given name. She liked the sound of it on his low, husky voice.

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to see the look on your face when you discover what I’ve done. Have you ever thought of that? Now let it go.” His voice dropped to a low warning growl.

“I don’t think I can.”

“Why the fuck not?” he snapped.

“Because if you can’t trust me with your secrets, how can I get you through this? Old wounds don’t heal by themselves, Nikko. They fester. That’s why you can’t sleep, why you’re having rage blackouts. You’re suppressing all these horrible memories that keep building up until eventually they break free and something bad happens like at that CFA party. Please . . . just talk to me.”

“I am talking to you—just not about this. Do you realize that I’ve talked to you more than any other woman in my entire life? Can’t you just be satisfied with that?”

“Could you be satisfied with half of me?”

“Fuuuck,” he hissed, dragging his hand through his hair. “I thought you weren’t making this about us.”

“I’m not. Yes, I am. Shit, I’m sorry.” Vi closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, grappling for patience. “Nikko, I’m in uncharted territory here. I’ve never had feelings for someone and then had them cross my path professionally. I’m trying so hard to control them, to keep this professional. It’s only until next month when Dr. Morrison gets back . . .” But honestly, it felt like years. She wanted him—badly. How was she going to do this? “You have to know that I only want to help you—whether as your therapist or maybe later on as something more.”

The look he gave her was so sad, so . . . broken.

“That’s the thing, Violet. You can’t help me. Not with this. And I’m not seeking absolution here—not from you and not from God. I don’t deserve it. Some things are just unforgivable. And I’ve accepted that. But until you do, I don’t see how this is going to work.”

What did he mean by
this
?—this
them
, or this
therapy
? The thought that Nikko might give up on her, on them, so easily sent a jolt of alarm racing through her. Maybe she’d figured him wrong and he really was just looking for someone he could fuck, someone who wouldn’t want anything more from him than his cock. And if that were the case, then Pen was what he needed—not her. She wouldn’t care that he was a disaster. Pen cared about having fun and living life to the extreme every day she could. She saw in Nikko what all the other women probably saw—a gorgeous, sexy-as-sin, bad-boy MMA fighter who was successful, crazy talented, and financially set.

They didn’t see the darkness of his tortured soul, or the pain and guilt eating away at him as his penance for what he believed was some unforgivable sin. He was good at disguising his pain, but occasionally the mask slipped. Like right now when Nikko let her glimpse the gravity of what lay beneath that tough-as-nails exterior. It drew her in more—wedging him deeper into her heart.

She didn’t realize it then, but thinking about him for the last six months, having him at the helm of the most cataclysmic sexual experience of her life, had ingrained him far deeper into the fabric of her being than she could have ever imagined. It was just so damn unfortunate they had to meet again in this capacity, because, God help her, she wanted him—hurts and all. This man had utterly and undeniably captured her heart, and it killed her to know she was going to have to spend the next month pushing him away when all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms. She wasn’t sure how she was going to do it.

“I should go,” he said, abruptly standing and heading for the door before she could stop him.

His hand was on the knob before she found her voice. “Nikko, wait . . .”

He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but none of it should be done here. And what good would it do, anyway, to keep talking about something that couldn’t be right now? Forcing a smile, she lamely said, “I hope you have a great weekend in Laughlin.”

Something flashed in his eyes, but before she could read the emotion, it was gone. “See you Tuesday, Violet.”

And without a backward glance, he was gone.

D
ad!”

Nikko shut the car door and turned around just in time for Raven to slam into him. “Hey, Ray. How’s my girl?” He wrapped his arms around his not-so-little little girl and squeezed, lifting her off the ground. It’d been too long since he’d seen her—six months too long—and guilt needled his conscience for staying away.

He glanced over the top of her silky black hair and met the pissed-off stare of his ex-wife. Standing on the front step, her hip was propped against the twisted, wrought-iron railing. Her arms were crossed over her surgically enhanced breasts, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much those had cost him. Too bad there wasn’t surgery for her personality. He’d gladly fucking pay for that. The outside wasn’t what needed fixing up. It never had. She’d always been a beautiful woman—until you spent five minutes with her. It was amazing how quickly someone could become ugly.

“I want her home by Sunday afternoon.”

Nikko set Raven down and caught her eye roll at Celeste’s demand. The tension between mother and daughter was palpable, and he wondered how long they’d been at odds. If he were a better father, more involved in his daughter’s life, he’d know these things. But Celeste didn’t make it easy. She’d been clear from the beginning that she preferred he keep his distance. She told him he was dangerous and a bad influence—too damaged to be around their daughter. Maybe she was right. He’d certainly given her cause to believe so when he’d found out she was banging Max Thompson,
his best friend from high school, behind his back.

He wasn’t even going to try to sugarcoat it. He’d lost his shit. There
was a special place in hell reserved for guys who fucked soldiers’ wives while they were away at war. He’d tracked the guy down to facilitate a
reckoning with his maker. Instead, Celeste had stopped him from kill
ing Max, but he still spent the better part of a month in the hospital. The only reason Nikko hadn’t ended up in jail was because Max knew that, if he talked, Nikko would finish the job as soon as he got out.

He still couldn’t believe his bitch of a wife had actually told Raven that Max Thompson was her uncle to explain the bastard’s constant presence when Nikko was gone. How terribly inconvenient it must have been for her when her husband had gotten blown to shit and had to come home, ruining the little game of “house” she’d been playing. Nikko’s hand subconsciously rose to rub away the phantom ache in the right side of his chest, which was now a mess of scars and bad memories.

Leaving his daughter behind had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. But back then he was such a wreck; he could hardly take care of himself, let alone a twelve-year-old girl. Hell, he was still a mess, except now he at least managed to keep his shit together on the surface—for the most part, anyway. No matter how much he might hate Celeste, she was still his daughter’s mother, and that was the only thing keeping him civil. Nikko was careful not to badmouth her to Ray. He refused to put his daughter in the middle of Celeste’s shit, even if she wouldn’t extend him the same courtesy. But Ray was a smart girl, and he wondered if she’d figured out the truth about “Uncle Max.” Sure would explain a hell of a lot now.

In the last few months, Celeste’s control on their daughter had begun to unravel and she’d started calling him pretty regularly, complaining Raven was getting out of hand. He tried telling her, more than once, to give the kid some space to breathe. If she didn’t loosen those reins, Ray was going to snap them. Nikko could see it coming. She was her father’s kid, and they shared the same rebellious streak. He remembered far too well what it was like to be her age, the oppression of living under someone else’s roof—someone else’s rules—and the pain of growing up without a father.

When Nikko’s friends and family had learned he’d joined the Marines, enlisting before he’d even graduated high school, they couldn’t believe it. Many of them flat out told him he didn’t have the personality for that kind of work, and they hadn’t been wrong. But Nikko was determined to prove them wrong. More than he wanted his freedom, he wanted to make his father proud and to honor his family. Some of his friends had even taken bets on how long it’d take before he got kicked out for misconduct. But no one bet on a Section 8, so, ha, the joke was on them.

“Where’s your bag, sweetheart?”

“In the living room.”

“Why don’t you go get it? I’m going to talk to your mom for a minute.”

Raven shot him a
Sure you want to do that?
look before bounding up the steps two at a time. As she raced past her mother, Celeste said something to Ray he couldn’t hear. She snapped, “I know,” with a whole lot of venom and then ran into the house. Nikko stopped at the bottom step, close enough that they could talk quietly, but still far enough away to keep his distance. Apparently, it wasn’t far enough because the breeze blew past her, slamming her scent into him. All these years, she hadn’t changed her perfume. He’d always hated it—sweet and flowery. It reminded him of the whores his buddies used to pick up in Ramstein.

“Nikko,” she greeted, her eyes raking over him, a flicker of interest in those aquamarine depths that made his dick want to curl up his own ass. “You seem . . . well.”

“Thanks. You seem . . . the same.”

She rolled her eyes at his dig.

“Ray skip any more classes this week?” he asked, putting the focus back where it belonged.

“Not since I called you. You seeing someone, Nik?”

“And her homework?” he asked, ignoring her question.

“It’s done. I think she might have a boyfriend, but she won’t talk to me. Maybe you could ask her.”

“I’ll talk to her, but I’m not your spy, Celeste.”

“So that’s the way it’s going to be?” she snapped. Ah, there it was . . . the wasp couldn’t hold back her sting for long. “You’re going to make me be the bad guy here?”

“I’m not making you be anything. You do that all on your own.”

“You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”

What the fuck? This wasn’t about her. Though, she was the center of her own universe, so why in the hell should he be surprised that she’d turn this into something it wasn’t. “Does it matter, Celeste?” Was he really going there? Guess so . . .
’
cause he found himself saying, “If you cared how I felt, you would have kept your legs closed.”

She stared at him like he’d just slapped her.

“Two years, Nik! You were gone for two fucking years!” Tears welled in those luminous eyes, pools he’d grown immune to a long time ago. There had once been a time—a lifetime ago—when he would have caved to those crocodile tears, bent to her manipulation, but not anymore. That man was long gone—dead and buried along with his team in Alice-Gahn.

“Two years that I spent putting my life on the line fighting to protect our country,” he growled. “You know what? Stop. I’m not doing this with you.”

“I was hoping we could . . . talk—about us.”

Oh, hell no
. . . “There is no
us
. And there’s nothing to say unless it’s about Raven.”

“All right. Nik, she needs her mother and her father—”

This was not happening . . . “You should have thought about that before you started fucking around behind my back.”

She took a step toward him, and he countered with one back. As pissed off as he was right now, he didn’t trust himself to get within arm’s reach of the shrew. How dare she do this to him right now. How dare she try to make him feel responsible for what happened.

“It wasn’t like that.” She swiped at the tears she seemed able to produce at will. “You don’t understand—”

It was exactly like that, and he wasn’t having this conversation. “I’m not doing this with you, Celeste. Not now, not ever again.” A moment later, Raven came bounding out the door, the CFA duffel bag he’d given her slung over her slender shoulder. She charged down the steps, blowing past her mother without so much as a good-bye. A big grin was plastered on her beautiful face that was losing some of that round fleshiness of youth, giving him a glimpse of the young woman she would someday become. She was stunning now. He hated to think what she would look like in another five years. He might have to quit the CFA and become a full-time cock blocker.

“You ready?” she asked.

“Yep.” He took her bag and slipped it over his shoulder. “Jeez,” he teased, “What do you have in here?—your whole bedroom?”

She giggled a little-girl laugh that made his chest constrict. It sounded like she muttered under her breath, “I wish.”

“Say good-bye to your mother.”

She stopped several steps from his car and sighed before turning back around to head up to the house. He tossed her bag into the backseat before getting inside. Firing up the engine, the low growling rumble drowned out whatever Celeste was saying to her. Ray glanced his way a couple of times. Shit, he hoped she wasn’t planting ideas in her head. His phone vibrated in the cup holder and he grabbed it, swiping his thumb over the screen. A text message from Dean? What in the hell did he want?

Need you to come into the gym tomorrow a.m.

Again? He’d just had a meeting with the guy this morning.
In Laughlin. Can it wait until Monday?

Not if you want your sparring privileges back. Marcus is in town scouting a prospective fighter. He wants to meet with you.

“Shit . . .” he growled, dragging his fingers through his hair. He didn’t want to sacrifice his weekend with Raven for his job. He’d planned on taking her to his sister’s for the weekend so they could see her, too, and he was overdue for a visit. But he couldn’t bail on this meeting with Coach. Celeste would have a shit fit if she found out he’d taken Ray into the city for the weekend, but it didn’t look like he had a lot of options here.

What time?

Nine
.

I’ll be there.

He hoped Violet wouldn’t be at the meeting tomorrow. Being in the same room with her was like having a tug-of-war taking place inside his chest, and he didn’t need an audience for that shit. Coach was perceptive as hell, and keeping his emotions locked down would be a battle he wasn’t sure he could win.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t any good for her, that he had nothing to offer her emotionally—it still didn’t stop him from wanting her. A woman like that could do far better than a fucked-up soldier turned MMA fighter, that was for sure.

It wasn’t just his physical attraction to her, though God knows he’d spent more time hard this last week than in his entire life. No, there was something about her that soothed his restless soul. Around her, he felt a semblance of peace, of rightness, that he couldn’t explain. He didn’t pretend to understand it. All he knew was that he wanted to be with her, and when he wasn’t, he . . . missed her.

Despite her valiant efforts to keep their relationship professional, he knew damn well she wanted him, too. And it frustrated him to constantly find himself hurtling over her roadblocks. She seemed determined to keep her distance. And he should probably respect that. She was a professional trying to do her job, and, admittedly, he wasn’t making it any easier on her.

The dichotomy of this woman intrigued the hell out of him. She looked so proper, so straightlaced and professional. Only, he knew her secret. He knew how truly wild and wanton she could be. He’d gotten another taste of it when he’d kissed her in the parking lot the other day. If he had to guess, he’d bet not even Clover knew the extent of the passion she was capable of. That woman was combustible, and, more than anything, he wanted to be the match that ignited her.

“Ready?”

Raven hopped into the passenger seat and slammed the door, looking like she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He knew the feeling. Nikko glanced at her lap and then met a pair of eyes that were exactly like his own.

“What?” she asked, clearly not understanding why they weren’t moving yet.

“Seat belt . . .” he finally told her when she failed to connect the dots.

“Uhhh . . .” she huffed, dramatically dropping her head back against the headrest. Grabbing the belt, she stretched it across her lap and clicked it into place. “Can we pleeease go noooow?”

“Yep.”

Flashing a daring grin, he laid his foot into the gas pedal and flexed the muscle of his V8 Hemi, releasing the power of 470 horses in Celeste’s driveway. Raven let out a startled yelp that morphed into laughter as she grabbed the oh-shit bar beside her head and declared proudly, “I have the most awesome dad ever!”

If only it were true . . .