Page 30 of Beg Me

“I have some friends. I’m going to go meet with them today and have them run security and figure things out.” His head jerks over to me rapidly.

“Ahh and who are these friends?” He asks in a total cop voice.

Fuck.

Straightening up a bit, I catch my bearings. “I can either protect her, and deal with these fuckers the way we both know we want to deal with them, or I can ignore the question. But those are the only two options here,” I say skirting him. His face falls annoyed.

“So it’s what I thought. There are rumors about a club that meets at the same gym you spar at,” he sighs. “But, she’s more important to me than some stupid law, so I’m with you. Whatever we have to do to keep her safe. I’ll do my part to keep Metro off of us.” He smiles at me and the air in my lungs I have been holding releases.

Holy shit, that was scary.

I know the cops are starting to catch onto the club after one dumbass went and talked about it. We have one fucking rule and he broke it. Fucker got his ass handed to him for it too. Then promptly left town. He won’t make that mistake again. But having Jayce be so close to me, knowing what I do, would have really fucked things up.

“I’m going to head there later and get it all sorted,” I say holding onto Oli tighter. No one is going to fuck with her again once the club finds out.

“Can I come and meet them?” Jayce asks.

FUUUCCCKKKKK I knew this question was coming.

“Uhh. That’s a hard one,” I scramble to figure out how to answer this.

“I’ll ask them, but I can’t give you an answer right now, unfortunately.” He glares at me. That was definitely not the answer he wanted.

Sliding out from under Oli, I stand and make my way to the bathroom. Bringing the club into this is the only way to ensure Olive’s safety. As much as I don’t like involving them in anything with my personal life, I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

Chapter 16

Zander

Walking into the club I breathe in the comforting smell of sweat and testosterone. Two men circle each other in the training ring, sparring.

Men and women line up in front of the heavy bags working on form. Other people work at the speed bags, the fast thudding sound of their hands hitting the bag repeatedly is music to my ears.

I see Joel standing on the other side of the ring, taping up a guy’s hand. He nods at me and I walk over to him. The guy he was taping walks away.

“Hey, I have some club stuff I need to talk to everyone about,” I tell him casually.

Most of the people here are part of the club, but until the gym is locked down, and we are in the basement, we don’t say shit else about it.

He grunts and nods. I guess that means yes? He’s such a typical old man. Beyond the fact that he’s married to the strongest woman I have ever met, who regularly puts him in his place, he is the standard old grumpy man.

“Until everyone leaves, get your ass in the ring,” he grunts at me.

“You got it, boss,” I smirk at him before heading to the locker room to get ready.

Walking out of the locker room, I rub my wrist before heading to Joel, he wraps them up and I step under the ropes into the ring where I feel most at home. I walk up to Trevy and hit his knuckles with mine.

“Let’s work on footwork today.” I nod and back into my corner.

Joel looks at each of us waiting for the nod. We both give it and he hits the bell, the “ding” rings out and bounces around in my head.

I fucking love that sound.

Walking out of my corner, I bounce on my toes, keeping myself light on my feet. I stay loose, circling to my left, keeping my guard up high. Trevy mirrors me, his shoulders relaxed but his eyes sharp, like a predator watching for a misstep. His lead hand flicks out, testing my range, and I let it graze the air in front of my nose.

“Keep that chin tucked,” Joel barks from the edge of the ring. His voice is a metronome, steady and unwavering.

Trevy feints a jab, his hips shifting just enough to make me react, and then steps in with a double jab-cross combination. I slip the first jab, parry the second with my right hand, and lean back just enough to let the cross whistle past my cheek. The air cuts sharp near my face, but I don’t flinch.

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