1 Last Shot (The Fight Game, #4)

by Nikki Castle

"I saw it in the store and thought of him. It's no big deal." For a moment, he just stares at me. I don't break his gaze—instead, I let him read whatever he wants on my face. That I like doing things for him. That I'm here for him. That I like him.

"My mom called me last night," I start simply.

"She's an addict," I say, staring forward as we walk along the river. "She prefers alcohol, but occasionally she'll go for an upper to keep the buzz going. I have no idea who my dad is. She probably doesn't either. But my whole childhood, all I knew was my drunk mother and her revolving door of alcoholic, scumbag boyfriends."

“She wasn’t physically abusive. Her fucked up parenting had more to do with manipulation and neglect, like I think a lot of addicts tend to fall into. She was always more worried about her next buzz than anything else. It didn’t take me long to figure out she doesn’t love the way a parent should love their child.”

“I would’ve been fine if it was just my mom’s bullshit,” I continue thoughtfully. “Probably still a little fucked up, but plenty of people grow up under an absent parent and turn out fine. I could’ve survived just that.”

"But her boyfriends liked to use me as a punching bag. I can't even remember when it started, or why. I don't think I can remember a time when I wasn't getting beaten or thrown around by her scumbag boyfriends.”

"I learned to toughen up pretty quick, and to keep my mouth shut so I didn't make it worse for myself. Most would get bored of me if I did that. But then they would dump my mom, and she'd find a new guy, and then it would start all over again."

"I was fifteen the first time I stood up for myself. I had looked up a few self-defense videos on YouTube, and thought I could take on Mom's newest asshole boyfriend the next time he hit me." My chuckle is flat and humorless. "He beat me so badly, I had to stay home from school for a month." I don't add that I had to ice and bandage myself because I was too scared to go to the nurse and get my mom in trouble. By the time I went back to school, I was so far behind that I ended up dropping out a few months later.

"Those are the flashbacks you get, aren't they? That's the reason you started training MMA."

"Fighting helped me take control of them. Made me feel like I was actually doing something to fi...

"How long did you live in her house?" she eventually asks, her voice quiet. A quick glance at her shows me her hands are squeezed into fists, but I can't tell if she's trying to control anger or discomfort. "I was sixteen when I ran away," I answer. She stiffens. "Did you have to go into foster care?"

"No, I managed to lie my way through the next two years. I already looked older with my facial

hair grown out, so I just got whatever jobs were available to me." I don't tell her that those jobs were usually fast food restaurants so I'd have something to ...

"When I first left, I slept in parks and public places. But eventually, I had to hotwire a car, just so I'd have someplace safe to sleep." I’m not quite ready to admit the details of the next few years, so I glaze over them and say vaguely, “Eventually I saved up enough money to talk my way into renting a shitty apartment. I was there for a little bit but ended up moving around for a few years. I lived where I could, worked where I could. I was basically a nomad until I moved up to Philly three years ago.”

"Are you sure that thing can hold us?" "Are you calling me fat?"

"Yes, it's your hundred pounds that are going to make us drop into the water, not my two hundred plus," I say dryly.

"Two hundred?" she asks in a purr. "You were looking a little more than that today. It looked like you've grown a few extra muscles since the last time I saw you shirtless."

eyebrow. "Didn't realize you were checking me out then or now, princess."

"It's pretty impossible not to," she whispers, her cheeks heating. I take pity on her and step forward to lower myself into the hammock below. I'm focusing all of my energy on not breaking this fucking thing and falling into the river, and I'm not even a l...

go down, I'm dragging you with me." "And here I thought c...

"Trust me, princess, my brand of chivalry is a li...

"Can you do me a favor?" I ask eventually, my voice like gravel. "Anything," she whispers, without even a second's hesitation. I swallow roughly, swallow down all the doubts and fears and nerves. "Can you tell me what it was like growing up in a normal family? Just… a happy memory or something."

"Well," she starts, opening her eyes and smiling happily out at the water. "My favorite memories were always when my whole family would go to the pool in the summertime. My mom would usually take me, but the best days were when my dad would come with us, too. He'd play with me all day, and throw me around in the water,

and then when we'd stop for lunch, my mom always brought a picnic basket for us. The three of us would sit and eat and then I'd pass out on a towel in the shade, feeling blissfully happy like only a kid can. Those were my favorite days."

quiet, "That sounds perfect." "But I had bad memories too, you know,"

"This one time, Allie Mendoza invited me to her eighth birthday party at a nail salon,"

But my mom said I was too young to have painted nails, so she didn't let me get mine done. So, I'm pretty sure my trauma is worse than yours."

"That's definitely worse than mine, princess," I say with a chuckle. "I'm surprised you survived that. You must've been the strongest girl in first grade."

"Well, obviously,"

There's no rush to get anywhere, no pressure to act a certain way, I can just… be with her. Because when I'm with her, I don't have to think about the past, don't have to worry about the future, I can just be here, in the moment, with her.

"Not that I don't like this secret meditation spot, princess, but these ropes are cutting into my ass and the wind is seeping into my bones." She cocks an eyebrow, her grin mischievous. "Is a little chill too much for the big bad wolf?"

think a growl sounds from my mouth, but I'm too busy rolling on top of her, my bulk trapping her in place and my hands pinning her wrists above her head. She lets out ...

"Has anyone ever told you that you're quite mouthy for a swee...

breath. "I'm still a sweet little ballerina," she says, but her voice is too breathy for the clapback to be effective.

"No, you're not." I cock my head and study her for a moment. "You play the part, but it's just an act, isn't it? Underneath all that lace and sweetness, you're actually a tigress. You're strong, and passionate, and you’re so fucking sexy."

"People always just see the ballet dancer." "A travesty," I murmur. "They're missing the best parts of you." "But you've never seen me dance," she blurts out, a confused look on her face. I shrug. "Doesn't matter. You could be the greatest dancer that ever lived, and I'd still think the rest of you was more valuable."

Ahhhhhhh😍😭⭐

"Princess," I growl slowly. "If I end up smelling like fish today, I’m going to be very upset with you. She bites down on her lip to stifle a giggle.

"You go first," I murmur. "Slowly."

tone, but the flush in her cheeks gives away how much she likes it. I give her a knowing look that makes the red deepen. But then she's rolling to her knees to follow orders.

"Of all the things I expected you to be scared of, a faulty hammock was not on my list."

"I'm just kidding!" she shrieks with a laugh. "You're absolutely right, a little water is terrifying."

spank her ass with a sharp, sudden hand, and I'm pleased to hear her startled yelp. "You're getting way too comfortable making fun of me, princess,"

again. She doesn't respond, but I feel her wiggling in place. When we finally reach my motorcycle and I slide her down my chest to plant her on h...

“After you, princess.”

Except, the second we’re at her door, and I’m standing in front of her, and I’m trying to tell myself I need to leave her alone, but I’m failing so fucking badly– Isabella sucks in a breath, looking like she wants to say something. Her eyes are filled with… want. And it hits me that I’m not the only one that wants this. Not by a long shot. My gaze darts down to her lips. I don’t look for the excuse of a gust of wind to touch her, I just brush my fingers over her ear, down to her neck, and curl my hand gently around the back. Only then do my eyes lift up to meet hers again.

want Isabella so fucking badly, but even the thought of her doing something regrettab...

Those thoughts disappear in a wisp of smoke the second Isabella’s lips land on mine. Her movements are eager, her hands coming up to fist in my t-shirt and pull me down to her level so she can kiss me deeper. And I’m helpless to give in to her demands. With a groan, my grip tightens on her neck and my tongue sweeps over her lips, silently asking for entry. She opens without hesitation. And the second I slip my tongue inside to tangle with hers, she’s whimpering against my lips, and I’m fucking gone.

wrap my other arm around her waist so I can pull her onto her toes and flat against my body. Her hands slide up my shirt to wrap around my neck, and I groan into the kiss when I feel her trying to get even closer.

My grip around her waist tightens when I realize she’s clinging to my shirt, trying to hold herself up. “Fuck, princess,” I growl after a breathless moment. I want to say something else, but Isabella’s short-circuited my brain. She looks just as stunned as I feel.

want to kiss her again. I want to go inside with her. I want… more of her.