Her Daddy's Jewel (MC Daddies Book 5) Read online

  He was scum.

  Still, she wondered how Jason had arranged all this.

  “Have you been taking fucking drugs?” Maxwell snapped.

  “What? No. I don’t do that shit.”

  Even she could tell he was lying. She let out a scoffing noise. Maxwell shot her a sharp look.

  Shit. She wasn’t acting submissive enough.

  My woman calls me Pike.

  Oh, God. Why did he have to turn up now? She’d made her bed. She knew what she was doing. Hope wasn’t something that she could afford.

  Damn him anyway.

  “Get out of my sight,” Maxwell told Rich. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  A shiver raced through her at his words. He grabbed her arm and steered her back towards the room that he’d come from.

  5

  You’re nothing to me

  I don’t want you.

  She lay on her side, staring at the white walls. She should probably get up. Should do something other than lie here all day.

  Part of her acknowledged that her mental health was suffering. That the longer she stayed here, the worse it was going to become.

  Eight days of imprisonment.

  Three days since she’d seen Jason.

  My woman calls me Pike.

  If only . . . if only she was worthy of a man like Jason. Then maybe her life would have ended up differently.

  Born in the gutter. Die in the gutter.

  Well, not exactly the gutter. This house, what she’d seen of it anyway, was over-the-top luxurious.

  At least Maxwell had been called away on business before he could take things further with her.

  But her luck was running out.

  Put it in the vault. Don’t think about it.

  Her mind wandered as she lay there, listless and exhausted. She needed to eat more, but every time she ate, she felt ill.

  She put her hand to her throat. The way Jason had held it, his body surrounding hers, it should have felt threatening. But it hadn’t. It had made her feel safe.

  What was wrong with her?

  She heard the door open. Knew someone was there. “You get up. Now. Get up.”

  She opened her eyes, staring up into the worried gaze of one of the girls.

  “What?” she croaked.

  “Get up. Need get ready. The master wants you.”

  She cringed at the way she called him master. That bastard lapped it up.

  Asshole.

  With a sigh, she sat, willing the room to stop spinning.

  The girl stared at her in concern. She was slight and young. There was a definite pattern. “You need eat.”

  Fuck. She wasn’t wrong. As much as she wanted to fade away, she didn’t have that option. Not yet.

  What she really needed to do was find a way to get rid of Maxwell.

  Good luck with that.

  “Come, come. Get in bath. I get food.”

  “What’s the hurry? It’s not even dark,” she asked as she pushed her into the bathroom.

  “New fighter. Good. You look good.”

  Awesome.

  Another hideously revealing tight dress.

  Another awful hairstyle. With terrible make-up.

  All right, she lied. The dress was awful. But the hair and make-up were gorgeous. Jewel had a weakness for make-up. Especially lipstick. She mourned her collection of lipsticks she’d left behind.

  Maybe it was stupid to focus on superficial shit. But it was that stuff that made her happy.

  She was sitting next to Maxwell at his club again. The bastard had barely paid her any attention tonight, just looked her over to make sure that his property was in working order.

  She supposed that she should be thankful he didn’t order her to strip so he could inspect her. She took a deep breath as she felt herself start to tense. The last thing she wanted was to draw his attention.

  She could still feel Jason’s lips on her neck. Kissing her. The press of his body against hers, surrounding her in safety.

  I know you.

  “His fight’s on next, boss,” Grafton said from behind her, catching her attention.

  Maxwell looked up from his phone, which he’d been frowning down at. He seemed tense tonight. Normally he loved fight nights. His narcissistic side craved it. Up here, he got to be the King. He lorded over everyone down below. He could watch grown men beat each other to a bloody pulp while sipping a martini.

  It was all his favorite things.

  So why was he tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair? She hated that she was so in-tune to his moods. That she knew something was wrong. And that it wouldn’t take much for a switch to flip inside him and that calm to shatter, the shield to go down and the devil inside to come out.

  She knew that she didn’t want to be around him when that happened.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” she stated.

  His hand shot out and caught her wrist. “No.”

  “But—”

  He turned to stare at her and the look in his eyes had her freezing. Because there was nothing there. No heat. No anger. No dark amusement.

  Fear rocked her and she swallowed heavily. Fuck.

  “I need to pee.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear you ask, pet.”

  Shit. Fuck.

  “Please, may I go to the bathroom?”

  “Master,” he added.

  She was aware of his dickhead goons around him, watching on. He wasn’t trying to be quiet. Why would he when the point was to humiliate her?

  Blood rushed to her head, making her dizzy. Anger sizzled and burned. A headache had started thumping in her head. She couldn’t cope with much more.

  “Please may I go to the bathroom, master?” She didn’t look at him as she asked.

  “Hmm, I’m not sure that you meant that. It didn’t sound sincere.”

  She’d give him fucking sincere right after she kneed him in the balls. Then she’d sincerely tell him to go fuck himself.

  “Maybe you should get down on your knees and ask, with your mouth. What do you say, boys?”

  There were murmurs of agreement. She was going to be sick. He wouldn’t.

  But she knew he would. The vault. Stick those memories in there. Bury them deep.

  “Here’s the fight we’ve all been waiting for,” the announcer suddenly put over the speakers.

  Maxwell turned, taking his attention from her and she breathed a bit easier. She knew this was just a reprieve.

  Maxwell moved to the edge of his throne, watching the fighters enter the ring. He really was interested in whoever this guy was.

  She felt a small stirring as one fighter entered. He was huge. But some of it was fat rather than muscle. Sure, he could probably knock out his opponent with one punch. However, he didn’t appear to have the stamina to go for long. And that could be his downfall.

  Was this the guy that Maxwell was so interested in?

  The crowd started murmuring, drawing her attention as someone else walked towards the ring. People moved apart for him.

  He was big. Not as big as the other mammoth, but you could tell he was in much better shape. She ran her eyes over him hungrily, surprised by her reaction.

  How many of these fights had she watched? She’d gotten used to over-muscled guys in small shorts and nothing else.

  But there was something about this guy. Unlike everyone else, he wore a tight, short-sleeved T-shirt. It clung to him but covered him at the same time.

  However, that wasn’t the biggest surprise. No, that would be the mask covering his face. How could he fight like that? Why would he?

  “Why is he wearing a mask?” She winced as she realized she’d said that out loud. It never paid to show interest for another man in front of Maxwell.

  “He’s always fought like that,” he replied, to her shock. “He’s the Masked Fighter.”

  “Original,” she muttered. Why bother? Would anyone here really care about who he was? Unless he had
a reason to hide.

  A feeling of unease rolled through her. She studied him as best she could. There were no distinguishing tattoos on his arms or legs that she could see.

  “He’s fought before?” she asked.

  That couldn’t be right. If he was a regular then she was wrong. It wasn’t him.

  It wasn’t Jason.

  However, that logic didn’t dispel the belief that the man down there, stretching while the guy he was about to fight threw insults at him was the same guy that had stood in the bathroom down the hall with her.

  Maxwell grunted. She knew she couldn’t ask too many questions before his insane jealousy reared its ugly head.

  “Yeah, been a long time though. He asked to have his first fight here. I want to see if he still has it. Nobody knows who he is. But I’m going to find out. If he’s still good, I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

  She swallowed heavily. Was it possible? No, it was too much of a coincidence.

  Or not a coincidence at all.

  But this was so damn risky.

  She swallowed, her mouth as dry as the desert. This couldn’t happen. She had to protect him. But how?

  Outwardly, she attempted to keep her appearance calm, but inside she was freaking out.

  “What offer?”

  She knew she was risking a lot by asking another question. Beside her, Maxwell turned. His snake-like gaze took her in.

  Fuck. Should have kept your mouth shut.

  “Why do you care?”

  The mammoth took the first shot, Jason easily avoided the hit. No, she had to think of him as the Masked Fighter.

  She shrugged. “I just think it’s weird he’s wearing a mask.”

  “Do you like the look of him? His body? It’s very chiseled, isn’t it?”

  Fuck, she knew leading questions when she heard them. If she answered wrong it could be dangerous and not just for her.

  She glanced away. “Seen one, seen them all. They’re just the same each night. Overgrown meatheads beating on each other for sport.”

  Maxwell was silent and she risked a glance up at him. He appeared thoughtful, that wasn’t good. Then he smiled. Reaching over, he ran a finger down her jaw. “But he isn’t like them. He’s special. Like you. Perhaps you can help me persuade him to join me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  He grasped hold of her chin, the anger in his eyes flashing hot. It was better than chilling nothing. But not a lot. “Because I fucking said so.”

  Fuck. Fuck.

  What was he expecting her to do? He was changing the game on her and she didn’t like it.

  “I want him on my team. And I want to know who the man behind the mask is. And you’re going to help me do both, aren’t you?”

  Was it a trick question? If she said yes, would he get angry thinking she wanted the Masked Fighter? If she said no, would he be furious at her disobedience?

  She licked her dry lips, but he’d given up on her, turning back to the fight. Jewel worked hard to get her fear under control. One part of her knew that she had to act normal. And normally, she paid little attention to these fights.

  However, her gaze kept going back to him.

  The Masked Fighter.

  He was good. God, he was good. Fast on his feet. Smart. Forceful. She had a feeling he was playing with sasquatch. His opponent was quickly tiring, just as she’d thought. His face was red, his breathing labored.

  The Masked Fighter didn’t even look winded. Although it was hard to tell with that mask. Wasn’t he hot? It was black and covered the entirety of his face. So tight it would be impossible for an opponent to remove it during a fight unless someone held him down and ripped it off him.

  That could happen, though. What if Maxwell wanted it off? He could overwhelm him, reveal his face.

  Then it would all be over.

  But if it was Jason, then why would he have hidden his face when he’d fought years ago? It didn’t make much sense.

  And it was making her realize how little she knew about him. She knew nothing of his past. Had Reyes fought in the same circles as Jason? Although Reyes had moved around a lot, going from state to state. Maybe they’d never crossed paths.

  “Why doesn’t he finish it?” Grafton complained.

  “He’s playing with him,” Maxwell said. “Giving the crowd a show. A lot of people will have placed bets on Argyle. They either don’t remember the Masked Fighter or thought since he’s only newly back in the ring that he might be out of shape. More fool them.”

  She guessed that Argyle was his opponent. And yeah, it seemed the Masked Fighter was just playing with him.

  “End it,” Maxwell muttered.

  It was almost like he heard him, or maybe he sensed the bloodthirsty level in the crowd growing. Because he suddenly upped his game. Moving in, he laid a series of punches to his opponent’s ribs.

  Then darted back while Argyle was still trying to figure out what the hell happened.

  It was wrong to grin. She really couldn’t. But inside, she was smiling.

  God, he was so fucking good.

  And she wished she could tell him. Wished it was her job to take care of him after he finished a fight. She’d heard stories about what happened after they won. The surge of adrenaline. The need to expel that energy . . .

  What would happen if she was alone with him after this fight? Would he push her against a wall and take her? Bend her over a piece of furniture? Would he lay her down and eat her out? Or have her suck his dick?

  Moments ago she’d been ready to vomit over the idea of having to give Maxwell a blow job. But with Jason . . .

  Shit. What’s wrong with you? You can’t do this. You can’t have him. You don’t even know if this guy is Jason but even if he is . . . nothing can happen.

  A roar from the crowd drew her attention back to the fighters. The Masked Fighter had Argyle on the back foot, he slammed another fist into his face then his gut. Argyle went down on one knee. Another to the face and sasquatch was out cold.

  She waited with bated breath to see what he’d do next. It wasn’t unknown for a fighter to keep going, even once their opponent was out cold. It always made her sick, but everyone else seemed to like the bloodthirsty show.

  However, the Masked Fighter took a step back.

  Then he looked up. Right up.

  Those eyes. Fuck.

  Of course she couldn’t see them properly from here. That was ridiculous, she was too far away. And he wasn’t looking right at her, because it was impossible to see her from down below. She knew that because Maxwell had told her.

  So, yeah, she didn’t know any of that.

  However, as he turned away, she felt this keening sense of loss that nearly made her cry.

  But that feeling wouldn’t go away. Of knowing him. That it was him.

  “Bring him up here,” Maxwell said to Grafton. “I want to meet him.”

  She tried not to tense. What would he do? What would happen if Maxwell tried to remove the mask by force?

  Fuck. Shit.

  How was she going to protect him?

  6

  There was a bit of a wait.

  She could tell Maxwell was getting impatient. He didn’t show it visibly, but he’d grown increasingly tense. Which didn’t bode well for anyone.

  When Grafton returned, he looked suitably nervous.

  Oh fuck, had he declined Maxwell’s invite? Not a good idea. At all.

  But then Grafton moved further into the room and he stepped in. He was wearing a big black hoodie, with the hood up over his face.

  Her heart raced. She was going to vomit.

  “Ah, there you are.” Maxwell didn’t move, forcing the other man to come to him.

  All a fucking power play.

  But from the easy way the Masked Fighter moved forward, it seemed he wasn’t bothered. Maxwell had moved to the lounge area behind his throne. He was seated on the sofa and he had her sitting right next to him. His arm went a
round her, curling over her shoulder. His finger rubbed along the top of her breast. It wouldn’t take much for her breast to slip free of the dress she wore. But a nipslip was the least of her worries right now.

  She watched as he sat across from them, placing an order for a drink which was quickly delivered.

  As she sat there, with Maxwell running a finger over her breast, his slimy touch making her insides shiver with disgust, she swore that she could feel the Masked Fighter’s gaze on her.

  Hard. Possessive.

  But it was impossible to tell with the hoodie pulled so far forwards.

  “Good fight,” Maxwell said.

  The other man just nodded.

  “Please, no need to hide here.” Maxwell waved a hand through the air, gesturing to the hoodie. “Get comfortable. After all, I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends.”

  The other man just grunted, leaning back but left the hoodie in place. She could feel Maxwell’s annoyance growing.

  He wasn’t a man who was used to being denied.

  “All right, I understand. All part of your persona. You know who I am?”

  Silence.

  Maxwell grew more tense.

  “I’m Luc Darrins.” He said it with all the arrogance of a King. The other man didn’t react.

  Shit.

  “I have an offer for you, one I don’t think you’ll want to refuse.”

  The other man still didn’t say anything. She also noted he didn’t take a sip from his drink. Probably wise. Maxwell would think nothing of drugging him, revealing who he was, then using whatever he found to blackmail him, if necessary.

  Maxwell slid his finger under the top of her dress and she had to work hard not to react, not to move, not to do anything that might show how she really felt.

  Was it her imagination or did the guy in the hoodie tense up? She told herself she imagined it.

  If this was really Jason, though . . .

  If it was, then she needed to act like she desired Maxwell. Although she didn’t think Jason had believed her lies the first time. Still, she should try to pretend.

  So she leaned into Maxwell, making a small murmur of pleasure.