Page 7 of Fighter

I’m fuming. The thought of Roxy leaving me tonight and going home to someone else has my insides burning. I need to cool off before I have another outburst. Quickly, I grab my keys off the counter and show them to the girls.

“I’m taking these so you can’t steal the car and leave, understand?”

“And where are you going?” Anastasia asks.

“I’ll be downstairs for a few. You girls make yourselves at home.” I give Anastasia a look to let her know that I’m not fucking around. “There’s nothing worth stealing, so don’t even bother.”

“We’re not thieves!” I hear her shout as I slam the basement door behind me.

5

Samantha

My heart hasn’t managed to calm down since I arrived, and Maximus storming out like that isn’t helping. It’s thudding beneath my chest like some coked-up madman beating a drum on the sidewalk at 1AM when the bars let out. I take a deep breath and look over at Tressa, who is glaring at the closed door like she wants to go after Max and give him a piece of her mind.

“Don’t,” I tell her.

“What?” she asks.

“You want to go start shit with him. I can tell. Don’t.”

Tressa feigns laughter and goes to the fridge. “Don’t worry, Sammy Sam. I won’t screw this up for us. We just have to stay strong, be sweet little girls for a little longer and then we’re out of here. All right?”

I just nod and swallow again. For some reason my lips feel wet and I’m no longer cold. In fact, I’m starting to sweat and I don’t think it’s because I’m wearing Max’s clothes and not my dress anymore.

His T-shirt smells like him. I can’t even remember whether I’ve ever smelled a man like this before. Richard and I have never really been close, aside from him putting his arm around my shoulder in the car once, but he also wears so much cologne that I doubt his own mother knows what he smells like.

Max wears none – at least as far as I can tell, and I didn’t see any in his bedroom. I doubt he even uses scented deodorant. I never would have thought the idea of smelling a man’s sweat would be something appealing, but I have to admit that having his shirt on has me feeling pretty turned on.

Sure, he’s pretty terrifying, but there’s something else going on with him that has me wondering – wondering what kind of a man he is and what his story is. Why would he pay us ten thousand dollars to come here and not try and have sex with us? Seems like something a guy who throws around that kind of money would do.

“Fucking psycho,” Tressa says as she hands me a White Claw from the fridge.

“I’m only eighteen, Tress,” I say, shaking my head. She scoffs and stuffs it into my hand.

“There’s no cops here, bitch. Just drink it.”

I crack the top but just hold it. I’m not really into alcohol. The only beer I ever had made me want to hurl. As Tressa takes a sip of hers, I hear something from beneath the floor – a sound like heavy footsteps or a hammer pounding on something.

“What the hell?” Tressa says as she hears it too. “What is that? He building furniture down there?”

I think for a minute, remembering how his hands felt on mine, and a smile crosses my face. “No. I know what he’s doing.”

I walk over to the basement door and slowly open it. The sound grows louder, and I turn to Tressa who’s looking at me with confusion. “What?”

“You haven’t figured out what this guy does yet?”

“Oh, you have?”

“I’ll be right back.”

The basement stairs creak as I head down them, closing the door behind me. I move as quietly as I can until I’m at the landing. And there, at the center of the large, unfinished room, is Maximus, shirtless, pounding his fists on a heavy bag.

The heat in my body reaches a whole new level as I watch him throw his fists. The muscles in his shoulder go taut with every strike, and dust beats from the bag each time his fist makes contact. His strong abs ripple and his handsome face is twisted in concentration. The smell that I smelled on his shirt fills the basement.

“You all right?” I ask. He notices me, throws one final blow at the bag, and drops his fists. He’s sweating, but barely breathing heavily. He’s in amazing shape.

“Sorry. Had to…get that out,” he replies, almost embarrassed.

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