Trainer (DS Fight Club Book 2) Page 8

Junior redialed the number and the phone rang and rang, finally going to voice mail. Next, he called Jason, who didn’t answer either.

  “FUCK!” Junior slammed his fist into the wall, chipping the drywall. It felt good, so he did it again. By the time he was finished, he was hoarse from screaming obscenities and Beto’s wall had a good-sized hole it.

  Junior sank to the floor with a gasped sob and sat there, facing the damaged wall, until he felt his sister’s hands on his shoulders.

  “Junior, what is going on?”

  He felt Marta slide down the wall to sit beside him, and they sat shoulder to shoulder in the small bedroom.

  “Come here, Junior. Come here.” Marta wrapped Junior in her arms, hugging him tight. “Go on. Spill.”

  So Junior told her about the events of the night before, about confronting Gene, about beating him until he was almost dead, about staying the night with Derek.

  “Humph. I have a lot of opinions about that,” Marta said. “But I want to know why you punched a hole in Beto’s wall and why you’re sobbing in the corner about a man you aren’t dating.”

  “I’ll pay to get the wall repaired.”

  Marta snorted. “You think this is the first time a fist has gone through the drywall? In this house? Please.” She bumped his shoulder. “Now tell me about Ryan. It is Ryan, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s Ryan. His head is fucked up bad, Sis. Like I was when I got back, but with added guilt.”

  “Do you think he’ll hurt himself? Do you need to call someone?”

  Junior shook his head. “I called someone, and now Ryan’s pissed as hell at me, but that’s okay. He can get mad as long as he stays safe. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “So, what happened between the two of you? And don’t lie by omission this time.”

  Junior told her an abbreviated version of their Halloween that seemed to be heading toward something more—that is, until someone set off fireworks and triggered Ryan’s PTSD. He told her about bringing Ryan to his apartment and holding him for hours until the younger man quit shaking and finally went to sleep, only to leave without a word.

  “That was the night before you called. And he didn’t show up for practice the next morning, so there’s a lot of unfinished business and unsaid conversations to be had.” Junior rubbed his head. “Damn, I have a headache.”

  Marta clucked her tongue. “I’m sure you do. This is a lot, Junior. I wish you had told me about . . . well, everything.”

  “I guess I thought things would sort themselves out.”

  “Sounds like you need to go back to Atlanta sooner rather than later.”

  “Yeah, I do. There are a few people that I need to talk to, face-to-face.”

  Marta patted her brother’s hand. “Come into the kitchen and I’ll fix you something to eat, make your head feel better, okay?”

  Junior nodded.

  He sat at the kitchen table, and Marta tossed him a bag of peas. “Put those on your knuckles. Do I need to lecture you about using proper protection?”

  He chuckled and sighed.

  “I mean on your hands.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re worried about him.”

  “Yeah, I am.” He hoped that Jason or someone would call soon and update him about Ryan. He tapped his fingertips on the tabletop.

  “You care for him.”

  “He’s a friend, a brother. Of course I care for him.”

  Marta clucked her tongue again as she set bowls of soup on the table. “You have feelings for him, and don’t give me some load of crap about military brotherhood or similar experiences.” Marta looked hard at Junior. “You’re different about him, different than I’ve ever seen you before.”

  Junior continued eating, carefully considering what Marta said before he answered. But he didn’t get a chance to before Marta blurted out, “What about Derek? You’ve been seeing an awful lot of him. You two getting something started again?”

  Junior shrugged. “Maybe. We’re having fun. And if I’m going be up here more than not . . . ,” his voice trailed off.

  “Why not?”

  “Exactly. Why not?”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Tito.”

  “You haven’t called me Tito in years,” Junior said with a chuckle.

  “Let’s just say I’m feeling a little protective of you right now, just like a big sister should.”

  Junior’s phone buzzed with a call and he grabbed it. “It’s Ryan’s brother.”

  He bolted into the bedroom even as he answered. The call was short, and Junior sat on his nephew’s bed and tried not to feel guilty.

  When half an hour passed, Marta knocked and stuck her head in the door.

  “You okay?”

  Junior exhaled and shook his head. “They’re keeping him on a seventy-two-hour mental health hold.”

  “And you feel guilty.”

  “I do, but Jason thanked me. He’s going to try to get Ryan to check into an in-patient program after the hold is over.”

  Junior’s phone buzzed again. “Nanda’s ready to be picked up at the gym.”

  He leaned over and kissed Marta’s cheek. “Thanks, Sis. I’m gonna go get Nanda.”

  Junior hadn’t even gotten completely out of his car before Nanda burst out of the door of the gym, a look of fearful determination on her face.

  “Whoa, Nanda, what’s going—”

  “Let’s go, Junior. Just . . . let’s get out of here. Now,” she demanded while climbing into the car.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Let’s just drive for a little bit, okay?”

  Junior nodded and pulled out of De La Garza Fight Club. After driving aimlessly for ten minutes, Junior tried to talk to Nanda again.

  “Nanda, what’s going on?”

  She licked her lips. “Gene’s missing.”

  Oh, fuck. “Um, missing?”

  “Two guys came into the gym today looking for him, and no, they weren’t the guys that paid a visit to me before.”

  “Maybe he’s just lying low for a while.”

  “I called his ma, Junior. She hasn’t seen him in two days. You know Gene—he talks to his mother every single day without fail.”

  “I’m sure he’ll show up.”

  “Yeah, washed up on the beach or in a burning car.”

  “Nanda . . .”

  “I have a really, really bad feeling about this, Junior.”

  Junior pulled into a shopping center’s parking lot and turned to Nanda. “What do you want to do, Hermana?”

  Nanda stared straight ahead. “I think . . . I want you to take me to Atlanta. Remember right after I got out of the hospital and I said I thought I needed a change?”

  “But you were scared.”

  She nodded. “I’m more scared of staying here. It’s time.”

  “I was headed back to Atlanta in the next few days.”

  “Permanently?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  Nanda laughed. “Between Manny’s dangling fighters in front of you and Derek’s dangling, well, just dangling, I figured you might stay.”

  Junior scrubbed his face. “I need to go back and talk to some people in person. I’ll take you, and you can decide what you want to do down there, okay?”

  Nanda nodded again. “Okay.”

  “I’ll drop you off at Marta’s—she wants you to stay for dinner. I gotta go see someone.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Derek, we gotta talk. May I come in?” Junior cringed when Derek’s big smile disappeared at his words. “I have to go back to Atlanta, at least for a while,” he said even as he was stepping across the threshold.

  “Oh. Uh, okay.” Derek leaned against the demilune table in the entrance way. “You want something to drink while you tell me about this?”

  “Sure, if it’s not any trouble.” Derek walked into the kitchen and returned not with wine glasses but with two lowballs with ice. He set them on the low bar and got out the scotch.<
br />
  “Derek, it’s not going to be that bad of a talk. And we’re going to have a conversation, a dialogue. This isn’t going to be one-sided.”

  “God, I’m sorry.” Derek ran his hands over his face. “I totally went on the offensive without even a bit of reason.” He turned to Junior and handed him a glass. “You’ve never given me a reason to act like a possessive jerk.”

  Junior rolled his eyes. “I think telling you that I was going to join the Army when we had planned on going to NYU is a pretty big reason.”

  Derek threw back his head and laughed bitterly. “Oh, we’re going to talk about that now? Almost thirty years after the fact and just when we’re getting reacquainted? Really?”

  “No, we’re not going to talk about that because that situation is in the long-dead past. But I’d like to talk with you about my returning to Atlanta so we don’t repeat the bad history.”

  “Humph. That sounds very . . . grownup and reasonable.” Derek exhaled a big breath. “Okay, let’s go into the den. Might as well be comfortable.”

  They got settled in the den, with Junior sitting on one end of the sectional. He hoped that Derek would join him. Derek sat down on the opposite end of the long couch, and Junior thought he might as well be sitting in the next room.

  Derek looked at Junior, and Junior started talking. He told Derek about the subtle threats against Nanda and about the disappearance of Gene. After he finished, he looked at Derek, still sitting at the far end of the sofa, not saying anything, his face blank.

  “Don’t you have anything to say, mano? I wanted this to be a conversation.”

  “You gotta do what you have to do, Junior.” Junior watched Derek’s mouth tighten up and his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed.

  “But what, Derek? Now’s not the time to be dishonest.”

  Derek chuckled. “All these years. I’ve wondered all these years about what would have happened if I hadn’t fucked it up. And just when I get the chance, when we get the chance . . .”

  “I’m coming back.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Derek snorted. “Christmas? Thanksgiving?”

  “No, I’ll be back in a few weeks. I’m taking on some fighters here. I’m planning on splitting time between Atlanta and Newark if Colin doesn’t have a problem with it.”

  “And if he does?”

  “Well, then I’ll have a decision to make.” Junior moved closer to Derek and took his hand. “I . . . don’t know what this is right now, but I’d like to see where it goes. No, I think we need to see where this goes.” He cleared his throat. “So, what do you say?”

  Derek answered him by leaping across the sectional and locking his mouth on Junior’s.

  Junior laughed against Derek’s mouth before pulling his head slightly back. “I take it that’s a yes?”

  “Damn right that’s a yes. Give me your mouth, Junior.”

  And Junior did.

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  Newark, New Jersey

  Derek and Junior were lazing around after enjoying a rare day of uninterrupted couple time. Junior was actually dozing, enjoying the comforting heat of Derek’s heavy body stretched out behind him on the sofa when his phone rang.

  “Hey, Nanda. What’s up, chica?” Junior’s voice was thick with sleep, though it wasn’t all that late.

  Junior stiffened when he heard the panic in Nanda’s voice. He leapt off the couch and went out to the patio, where he paced around the concrete slab as he listened to Nanda rattle.

  “What the fuck do you mean, ‘someone was here’?” Junior stormed around the back patio, oblivious to the cold concrete under his bare feet and the chilly air on his almost naked body. “Explain, Nanda, right the fuck now.”

  His sister was silent a moment but then began to describe the scene when she arrived at her temporary home in Atlanta: furniture overturned, drawers emptied, closets rifled through. Someone was looking for something, just like they had been in her apartment here in Newark.

  Goddammit.

  Junior could tell that Nanda’s brave front was about to crack, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do to help her right then, so he did the only thing he could do: he ranted. He ranted and raved and yelled, the stream of expletives streaming out of his mouth so foul that even Nanda told him to cool it.

  “I’m coming back now. I’ll borrow Derek’s car, but I’m leaving right the fuck now.”

  “Junior, be reasonable.”

  “How the fuck am I supposed to be reasonable when who the fuck knows is breaking into my home and threatening my sister? Huh? Would you be reasonable if it was reversed, hmm? Would you, Nanda?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “That’s right.” Junior sucked in a breath and blew it out. “Hermana, what’s the plan, hmm? Whaddya gonna do? Where ya gonna stay tonight?”

  “I’m going to stay at the fight club tonight.”

  “What?” Junior’s voice shot up two octaves. “Like hell you are.”

  “My god, Junior. Chill. It’s the safest place. Johnny even agrees. Tig’s room is still empty, so it’s no big thing.”

  “Tig’s room? Oh, fuck me. Listen to me, Little Sister. You tell DiGiacomo to back the fuck off or he won’t have to worry about training camp because he’s gonna be in a fucking body cast.”

  “Jesus, Junior, calm down. I can handle that cocky bastard just fine. Okay? You just come when you were planning to, and we’ll figure out more when you get here, okay? And if it’s not, too fucking bad.” Nanda laughed weakly. “Oh, and C wants you to call him after we hang up.”

  Junior grunted a response. “Fine. You text me as soon as you get to the fight club, okay? I mean it.”

  “Sheesh, I will. And you’re the one who needs to calm the fuck down, Junior. I mean it.”

  Junior grunted again but agreed. He told Nanda good-bye, and as soon as he ended the call with his sister, he called Colin—both to see what he wanted and to see if Nanda was telling him everything. As it was, she did, and after he and Colin negotiated a bit, Junior hung up the phone and went back into the house, a plan in place.

  “Dios, I need a drink,” he muttered to himself as he made a beeline to the kitchen.

  “What’s going on with your sister, J? She okay?”

  Junior let out a stream of Spanish expletives while rummaging around in the refrigerator.

  “Goddammit, why is there no beer?”

  “Because we’re both leaving town tomorrow.” Derek winced when Junior cursed more. “That was probably a rhetorical question, huh?”

  Junior leaned against the kitchen doorway. “About that, Derek . . .”

  Derek sat up, his body tense. “What’s going on?”

  “C’s sending his plane up tomorrow morning. I’m going to be on it. I’d like for you to be, too.”

  “Um, okay. I’ll see if I can get refunds for the flights.”

  Junior grinned. “I’ve already done it. The vouchers are good for a year.”

  “Babe, what’s going on?” Derek patted the cushion beside him.

  Junior flopped down on the sectional. He ran his hands over his face and head while he told Derek about the most recent break-in.

  “Shit, do you think whoever was harassing her up here has found her in Atlanta?”

  Junior shrugged. “Who the hell knows? But knowing Nanda’s luck, that’s exactly what’s happened.”

  “But she’s okay, right? At least physically.”

  Junior nodded. “Yeah, she’s okay. She’s staying at the fight club tonight—it’s nice and secure. I don’t have to worry about anyone getting to her there.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, do you still have the suite at the Marriott?”

  “One of the perks of being a board member,” Derek said with a grin. “Yeah, I have the suite. I figured I’d keep it so if I needed an escape from the idiots at the conference, I could just go upstairs and hide.”

  “Would you mind if Nanda stayed with us, at least for a
few nights?”

  “ ‘Us’? You were planning on staying at the hotel?”

  Junior frowned, suddenly unsure. “Well, yeah. Unless you don’t want me to.”

  “Of course I want you to stay at the hotel.” Derek leaned forward and pressed his lips to Junior’s.

  “But?”

  Derek chuckled. “No ‘but.’ ”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay, maybe one ‘but.’ The thing is, I might be a little nervous about meeting these guys, your team down in Atlanta.” Derek shrugged and held up his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “Just a skosh.”

  “You’re thinking about the time you met C, aren’t you?”

  Derek nodded.

  The first meeting between the boyfriend and the best friend didn’t exactly go well, between Colin being his usual grouchy, bastard-assed self and Derek overcompensating with fake Jersey bravado. Junior wanted to slap both of them upside their heads.

  Junior grimaced at the memory but shook it off. “There is absolutely nothing to be nervous about. C’s a big grouch to everyone except his wife. Tig will talk your ear off. Dig’s going to be too wound up for the camp to be his usual obnoxious self.”

  “And Ryan?”

  Junior gave Derek a funny look. “What about Ryan? Ryan’s . . . got shit to sort out.” Junior rubbed his hands over his bald head and his face before looking Derek in the eye. “You gotta problem with Ryan, mano?”

  “Ryan’s not a problem, okay?” Junior leveled a hard look at his boyfriend. Derek rolled his eyes. “Look, I get that you’re friends, and I understand that the two of you share some background that I’ll thankfully never have a chance to experience. I get that. But, I admit, I get jealous, okay? The way you answer his call in the middle of the night or day, drop whatever you’re doing to talk to him.” Derek shrugged. “I just get jealous.”

  Junior leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. “He’s a friend. A very damaged friend. I know you’d do the same for someone in a similar position. But understand this, Derek: I am in a relationship with you. No one else. There’s no one that I feel the same way about as I feel about you.”

  Derek grinned. “There’s no one that I feel the same way about as I feel about you, either, Junior Maldonado. Sure, I’ll go with you tomorrow. It’ll be a good thing.”