Reckless Attraction Vol. 2 Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1: Chloe

  Chapter 2: Hudson

  Chapter 3: Chloe

  Chapter 4: Hudson

  Chapter 5: Chloe

  Chapter 6: Hudson

  Chapter 7: Chloe

  Chapter 8: Hudson

  Chapter 9: Chloe

  Chapter 10: Hudson

  Chapter 11: Chloe

  Chapter 12: Hudson

  Chapter 13: Chloe

  Chapter 14: Hudson

  Chapter 15: Chloe

  Chapter 16: Hudson

  Chapter 17: Chloe

  Chapter 18: Hudson

  Chapter 19: Chloe

  Chapter 20: Hudson

  Chapter 21: Chloe

  Also by JJ Knight

  Reckless Attraction

  Volume 2

  An MMA Contemporary Romance

  By JJ Knight

  author of

  Uncaged Love

  Fight for Her

  Single Dad on Top

  The Accidental Harem

  Revenge

  Blue Shoes

  Get texts or emails from JJ:

  JJ Knight News

  Summary:

  An MMA fighter falls for the one girl who seeks to bring down the sport he loves.

  Copyright © 2018 by JJ Knight All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews, fan-made graphics, and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons , living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  V1

  JJ Knight

  www.jjknight.com

  Chapter 1: Chloe

  I run.

  The night is warm, and streetlights glow above me. My heavy black boots pound against the concrete of the sidewalk.

  It’s the wee hours of the morning, and no one is around. I don’t look back. I don’t want to know if the limo I escaped from is following me.

  I can’t think about Hudson. Or jail. I don’t want to remember the smell of the cell I was in, the sounds of crying and despair, the fear that I was in more trouble than I knew.

  Definitely, I push away any thought about how my boss didn’t come for me. That maybe I don’t even have a job. That my future’s been upended again.

  I just run. Run fast.

  I don’t know where I’m going. My car is way too far from here to make it. I’m not exactly in shape. I don’t run normally, and certainly not in big black boots.

  But I had to escape. That man in the limo scared me. The Cure McClure. Pro boxer. He wore an expensive suit at two in the morning. Smoke circled him like a toxic cloud. And that voice. Every word held a deep resonating threat.

  I can’t believe Hudson considers him family. He’s terrifying.

  And he knows what I did. That I busted an illegal fight by alerting the police. A fight that his protegé Hudson was winning. He knows I’m the reason Hudson went to jail. He knows everything.

  My lungs go on strike, and I suck in air. I’m forced to drop my pace.

  I take a moment to glance behind. I half expect the limo to be rolling behind me like a sinister black monster.

  But nothing’s there. It’s just the empty street, with bright spots beneath the lamps and a metal bench by the bus stop.

  The jail is well behind me. The complex glows in the distance. It seems like a bad dream. The arrest. The mugshots. Fingerprints. Futile calls to work to come get me.

  I may be out, but I know this isn’t over. I signed some agreement with Vanderson, the lawyer who works for Hudson. When I get called back for these charges, I’ll see some of them again. Possibly all of them.

  No, this isn’t over at all.

  I continue walking along the street. Maybe I should go back to that bus stop. Or call a SpeedRide. I have my phone at least. I could text my roommate. But Zeba might be hooking up with that new date. I don’t want to mess up their first night.

  The person who should be helping me is my boss, Clarissa. But she’s not answering her phone. Maybe she’s fired me for getting caught.

  Maybe I’ll quit.

  Except I can’t. What else am I going to do? Not college, that’s for sure. If I can’t afford it with a job, I certainly can’t afford it without one.

  My cell buzzes. I suspect it will be Hudson. After he went to all the trouble to bail me out of jail, he has to be mad that I ditched him in the limo. At the very least, he has to be confused as hell.

  I don’t know what to say to him. Sorry I got you arrested? Sorry you’re a fighter, and I’m the person seeking to bring everyone like you down?

  I shove the phone in my pocket.

  I can’t really afford a SpeedRide. I walk until I come to the next bus stop and peer at the rumpled schedule printed behind the Plexiglass.

  It’s too fuzzy to read. I jerk my phone back out of my pocket to pull up a bus app, but my eyes fall on the text message. I’m right. It’s from Hudson.

  Are you okay? I don’t agree with what he said to you. Please let me take you home. I’m not in the limo either. I called another SpeedRide, LOL.

  I shake my head. He can LOL right now? After everything that happened tonight?

  Even though it’s a text, I can hear his voice saying the words. I picture him walking with me to the beach. Kissing me and laughing as we head to my car. I’ve only known him for one day. Not even that. It’s been maybe seven hours and several of those were separated in jail.

  But thinking about him calms me. He’s coming for me, even though he most certainly already knows what I’ve done. He doesn’t hate me. He didn’t make a snap judgment about what my actions cost him.

  That’s something.

  I sit on the concrete ledge of a planter outside an office building. My fingers hover over the text box on my phone. I don’t really know what I’m going to say.

  I hear an engine and look up, half expecting the limo. But it’s just a random car, not firing on all cylinders. As it goes by, I think of my dad and how he taught me to hear what a car is saying to you when things stop running smoothly.

  “It’s the engine belt,” he might say. “It’s telling you to tighten it.” Or, “You hear that click? That’s the alternator asking for help.”

  And I realize that relationships aren’t much different. I need to listen to what Hudson is saying. Because despite everything, he still wants to talk to me.

  I hold my phone in my hand and finally find some words.

  I don’t know what you think of me now that you know that I was the person who caused the fight to get busted. It’s my job to do these things.

  I should probably say more. But I don’t know what would work. So I hit send.

  It’s only a moment before he responds.

  Where are you?

  I tap a quick response.

  About ten or fifteen blocks down the same street you saw me leave. I’m not much of a runner. LOL.

  There you have it. I can LOL in this situation, too.

  It isn’t very long before I see a car driving way too slowly up the street. I have a feeling it’s him. The car is typical for a SpeedRide driver. Nothing new. Nothing fancy. A nondescript gray SUV.

  As it approaches me, the back window rolls down and Hudson’s head pops out.

 
“I found you!” he says. “Your blond hair shines in the dark.”

  Why does he have to be so charming? He opens the door and scoots across the seat. I slide in beside him.

  “Where to now?” asks the driver. It’s a middle-aged man.

  “Can we go get Jonesie?” I ask. “I’m really worried about her in that bad part of town.”

  “Sure,” Hudson says. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her either.”

  “Jonesie?” asks the driver.

  “My car.” I give them the address.

  We settle in the seat. Hudson reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. I don’t know what any of this means. Nothing has been resolved. He’s a guy who stands for everything I don’t believe in.

  I’m the girl who tries to bring down the sport he clearly loves.

  But still we sit there, hands entwined.

  “How bad was it in your jail cell?” Hudson asks.

  “Awful,” I tell him. “Pretty much the best thing ever was having that lawyer come to get me.”

  “What happened to the person who was supposed to bail you out?”

  “She was angry I got caught.”

  “Some friend,” he says.

  I don’t tell him that I’m still reeling that Clarissa left me there. If our cause meant so much, she should care about the people fighting the battle.

  But no. The person I betrayed came for me in the end. The bad guy I’m supposed to be fighting against.

  “I’m glad Vanderson was able to get you out,” Hudson says. He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a light kiss against my fingers. “I got put in a holding cell myself, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you having to be in one.”

  “It was pretty unpleasant,” I say.

  “Nobody ever tells you the truth in there,” Hudson says. “I was supposed to stay in the interview room, but I ended up with about ten other guys.”

  “Was it horrible?” I ask.

  “I got lucky,” he says. “Most of the people in there had been arrested at the fight.”

  Also my fault. An entire jail cell.

  “I didn’t recognize anyone,” I say. “That crying girl from the ride over must’ve gone to the temporary holding cells. I somehow ended up in the long-term ward.”

  “Why do you think that happened?” Hudson asks.

  “I have another open case.”

  “Right, you said you were arrested before. The professional protesting. I guess your assignment tonight was my fight then?”

  I can only nod. I’m his enemy, and yet, here we are.

  “You shouldn’t have to put yourself at risk for her if she’s not going to help you in the end,” Hudson says. There’s a dark note in his voice that tells me he’s as upset at her as I am.

  “She didn’t last time, either,” I say. “I get the idea that I’m not her highest priority.”

  “Then why do you do it?” Hudson asks.

  “I like it,” I say. “If I can’t finish my degree, I might as well do something that makes a difference.”

  As soon as I say it, I regret it. Because of course, the difference I made tonight was that his fighter friends and lots of other random spectators got thrown into jail.

  I close my eyes. I don’t know what to think anymore. But I do still believe fighting is wrong. Maybe I have to be smarter about how we shut things down. All of us do. Action for Action. Clarissa.

  “You have to find some other line of work,” he says.

  This gets to me. I sit up straight. “Somebody has to do it! I don’t understand how you think it’s okay to break people’s faces for money. It’s barbaric.”

  My voice has this shrill note to it. It’s been a long night. I’m too mixed up. But I do know that this part is right. Fighting is a terrible way to live.

  “It’s what I love,” he says.

  “Love? What does love have to do with it!” I can picture my father on the ground. “You have no idea what your so-called ‘love’ can do,” I say. “It’s exactly the sort of thing Action for Action will always fight. Innocent people get hurt. You ruin lives.”

  Hudson’s fingers tighten around mine. “A lot of innocent people got hurt tonight, for sure,” he says. “When someone like you waltzes in and gets everybody arrested, people lose their jobs. They won’t have bail money. They won’t be able to get out.”

  My anger hits the redline. “I can’t believe you’re trying to defend what you do. You fighters are all the same. Adrenaline-fueled. Up on steroids. Getting your jollies by bashing each other.”

  “Hold on, hold on,” Hudson says. “Don’t throw around steroids. That’s not everybody. That’s not me.”

  “Of course you would say that,” I say. “Nobody in their right mind would admit that to someone who just called the cops.”

  Hudson releases my hand. “Can we go back to where we were on that beach? I felt something then. And I’m pretty sure you did, too, or you wouldn’t have asked me there in the first place.”

  “That was before I knew what you did,” I say. “It’s a terrible sport. The worst of our society feeds on it.”

  Hudson turns away, the streetlights flashing across his hardened face. “That’s your opinion. For me, it’s family. It’s the guys I trust with my life. It’s my sister. Brother-in-law. Friends who train me. People who pay my way.”

  “Yeah, about that,” I say. “I’m assuming the guy that bankrolls your training was in the limo? He’s a real gentleman.”

  I can see the change to his face even with the lights flashing through the window.

  I have him there.

  Chapter 2: Hudson

  Chloe and I have hit a wall. We’re on opposite sides. That’s clear.

  But I’m willing to try to salvage this.

  When she took off out of the limo, I immediately launched across the seat to go after her.

  The Cure stopped me, his arm moving between me and the door. “She’s the one who summoned the police to the fight,” he said.

  This definitely made me pause. I pictured her there, looking up at me from the crowd. She had waved her arms.

  So that’s what that was about. She was trying to tell me to stop the match.

  I had no idea what she meant. The notion that someone in the crowd, much less someone I’d been so into an hour before, would call the police was way outside my wheelhouse.

  Despite all this, I shrugged off The Cure and headed out of the limo. I didn’t expect she would have gotten very far.

  But she was nowhere in sight. The road curved around the complex, and she could have run in either direction.

  I took off down the street, running at a pretty good clip. I got to the crest of a hill and could see she hadn’t gone that way. Damn it. Fifty/fifty chance, and luck hadn’t been with me.

  The limo still sat outside the jail, but I didn’t stop, just waved at The Cure as I passed it a second time. When the road forked, I figured I’d better get wheels. I knew Chloe would not get back in the limo. Fortunately, all the taxis and ride-shares station people outside jails, even at two in the morning.

  So I got picked up swiftly and started my search.

  I do understand what The Cure was trying to say in the limo. Chloe was responsible for the downfall of the fights. And I should protect myself around her.

  But it was her job, plain and simple.

  Hell, The Cure didn’t like my sister any better than Chloe when they first met. Jo had jumped out of his limo, too. Only that time, it was moving.

  And now? He thinks the sun rises and sets on my sister. And Bear. It’s his whole life.

  He likes to intimidate. He wants people to feel his power. Once I explain all this to Chloe, and once he gets to know her, it will be fine. I feel certain of it.

  She is definitely prickly right now though. She wants to fight me. To argue. I’m doing my best not to let her push us apart.

  “I’m not going to say that The Cure is an angel,” I tell her. “My family, and especially
my sister, have definitely had some rough times with him.

  “He’s intimidating and cruel,” she says. “And he needs to check his language. Nobody wants to be called a pussy.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” I say. “He definitely likes to feel like he’s top dog. But he also sort of is.”

  “Because you guys let him be,” she says. “People like that only have power because others give it to them.”

  I don’t know how to argue this. I barely know her. I wish I could say it’s not worth it and walk away. But I can’t. I don’t feel that way at all. I want to fix it. I want her to be as enamored with me as she was at the beach.

  “Hey,” I say. “Is it possible for us to forget all of that? Is there a way to be together and not think about how different we are?”

  She looks away. “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t need to have anything to do with my fighting,” I say. “I don’t expect you to be there. We just met. Can’t we try this out a little longer before we give up?”

  “I don’t see how,” she says. “We’re doomed from the beginning.”

  The car slows. The driver turns to look at us. “I hate to interrupt your dramatic conversation,” he says. “But we’re at the address you gave me.”

  “Go around the back street,” Chloe says. “There’s a parking lot and a yellow Volkswagen Beetle near the front.”

  We don’t speak as the SUV navigates the block and pulls up to the parking lot full of cars. It looks like we’re the first ones to return from the arrests. Makes sense. Most of the others wouldn’t have someone like The Cure and his lawyer to bail them out in the middle of the night.

  “Is this the end of your ride, too?” the driver asks me.

  I look at Chloe. “Is it?”

  She goes still, her hand on the door handle. I guess she’s trying to decide for herself. I think this is a good sign. She hasn’t dashed out like she did in the limo.

  “I would really love to keep talking to you tonight,” I say. “I feel this connection to you that I don’t want to lose. I’m afraid if I let you go right now, I’ll never see you again.”