Beautiful Broken Promises(3)



“Quit playing around!” she screeched.

Once my phone was in my hand, I noticed it was from Charlie and immediately put it up to my ear so I could hear his message. He rarely called in the middle of the night, and I shouldn’t have f*cking let it go to voicemail. I could hear my late-night visitor huffing and puffing behind me, but her concerns meant nothing to me in that moment.

Charlie’s gruff voice whispered in my ear, causing my whole body to lock up with each word spoken. “Tijuana. Tonight at seven. I got you a spot. Meet up with Mateo. Call me back tomorrow.”

I had been listening to Charlie’s cryptic messages for the past four years, yet I was never prepared for them. I couldn’t predict what kind of news he was going to deliver, and every day I felt as if I were waiting for the one that would knock me in the gut so hard I would never recover. However, this one gave me hope because another day had gone by that he wasn’t calling to tell she was gone…forever.

When I knew I had a job to do, it got my blood pumping. The adrenaline shot through my veins, and I could already feel my feet bouncing. This time, however, insecurities began to float in and out of my head. I should have been training harder since moving to Texas. I should have been perfecting my right hook or strengthening my footwork.

But then I remembered that winning didn’t matter. My presence did. If Charlie got me a spot tonight, that meant he would be there. And if he was there, then maybe it could lead me to her.

“What’s your name again?” I pointed at the girl, who was trying hard to look sexy sprawled out naked on my bed. Any other night, I would have gone another round because obviously I was a glutton for punishment, but it was time I hit the road.

“You’re joking, right?” she yelled, way too damn loud for three in the morning.

“Hush, will you? I don’t need you waking everyone up,” I hissed while throwing on my pants.

“Who the hell are these other people, Ethan?” Her voice was getting extremely loud. “Am I really just another notch on your headboard?” I shrugged my shoulders, because what the hell did she think? She went home with a drunken idiot in the middle of the night and I hadn’t even asked her name. “FUCKING BASTARD!” she screeched.

Almost immediately, I heard the loud wail of a baby cry blast down the hallway. Shit... Her face froze and she gave me a glare that could melt all of Antarctica.

“Please, don’t tell me you have a family,” she growled.

“It’s time to go, sweetheart...” I started to say when my door slammed open, the hinges barely containing the forceful blow. There stood a drowsy-eyed and extremely pissed-off Jace in my doorway. He was only wearing boxers and his chest was heaving as if ready for a fight.

I f*cked up. “Dude, I’m so—“

He quickly interrupted my apology. “Do you know how long Audrey and I spent getting Jocelyn down? No, of course you don’t, because you don’t give a f*ck!”

“Of course I care, don’t say that. How was I supposed to know she would start screaming like a damn five-year-old?” I pointed to the guilty party still sitting on my bed.

Jace glanced over as if he hadn’t known there was someone else in the room. I knew the instant he realized she was lounging seductively in her birthday suit because he immediately looked away.

“Seriously! You have about ten seconds before Audrey comes down here and kicks your ass. Get dressed and get her out of here,” he growled.

“I think I need to talk to Ethan in private,” my obnoxious visitor addressed Jace, even though he wouldn’t even look in her direction.

Jace threw his head back and laughed, “Oh boy! You have been an * tonight. His name is Lane, by the way,” he added, right before he stepped out into the hallway.

I heard her gasp of breath as she scurried off the bed and scooped up her skirt. In a huff, she pulled it up her legs and secured it around her waist.

“Look...” I paused, realizing I still didn’t know the girl’s name. Shit!

“Gemma. My name is Gemma and it seems that yours is Lane. I’m glad we finally introduced ourselves.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“Look Gemma, it was a good time,” I tried to backtrack. I’d been even more of an * than usual.

“You’re a riot,” she laughed incredulously and searched for her shirt.

I cleared my throat and hesitantly said, “I think it’s on the stairs.” Where I had ripped it off of her. “Here, just take my shirt,” I tried to say before she walked out the door but she waved me off and strutted out of my room—topless. Fucking great.

Kimberly Lauren's Books