Chapter 2: Caged: Chapter 2

“Sit down, Kingston. You’re not walking up the damn stairs tonight.” Cade and Hudson are arguing while I stand in the family room, staring out the wall of windows making up the entire side of his house. The snow has just started falling outside, and the view of the lake at the end of Hudson’s backyard looks like part of a Norman Rockwell painting.

No matter how many times I see it, this view always takes my breath away.

Hudson’s house sits on the banks of Kroydon Lake, and the waterfalls play a constant soothing melody in the distance. He moved in a year ago after spending months on renovations, and from the first time I stepped inside, I’ve been in awe of how warm and homey it is.

Not at all the bachelor pad most of us were expecting. Reclaimed wood floors and a stacked stone fireplace take center stage on the first floor, surrounded by windows and oversized, plush furniture. Everything about it screams beauty and comfort . . . and money.

Hudson spared no expense making this home his own personal retreat.

The Kingston family is Philadelphia royalty. They own half the city. It’s easy to forget that when you’re talking with them because they don’t act like . . . well, like how I’d imagine billionaires would act.

Which I guess isn’t exactly a fair assumption.

“Maddie . . .” I spin around to find Cade standing behind me. “He’s on the couch, and he’s grouchy. Don’t let him convince you he’s okay to walk up the steps tonight. Make him wait until tomorrow.” He hesitates, then pulls his keys from his pockets. “You sure about staying here? You could always come stay with Scarlet and me until Dixon gets home.”

“Umm, no thanks, Cade. My brother may like to think I need to be taken care of, but I did manage to live on my own for four years before I moved in with him. I’ll be fine.”

Cade laughs as he shakes his head. “I gotcha. But give him a break. We big brothers like to think it’s our job to keep our little sisters safe. I think I was more upset when Imogen moved out than she was.” He takes a step back and points toward the giant sectional sofa where Hudson’s flipping through channels on the TV. “He’s gonna be a pain in the ass, Mads. Call me if you need me.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I follow him to the door, then lock it once he’s gone.

A chill runs down my spine, thinking about locking another door earlier tonight and what happened afterward. I pull the detective’s card from my pocket and flip it over. I’m not sure what exactly he thought I’d remember and be able to tell him, but I was given instructions to call if anything came to mind.

I kick my Uggs off and sit them next to the front door, then pad barefoot over the cold hardwood floor into the kitchen in search of something to drink. The space is massive and open, with high ceilings and open shelving instead of cabinets lining the walls. Everything is spotless and sitting perfectly in its place, and I wonder whether that’s because Hudson is secretly OCD or if he has a housekeeper.

My phone rings, drawing me from the rabbit hole my mind started spiraling down. When I pull it from my pocket, the face of my best friend, Daphne, is flashing back at me.

“Hey. I’m standing in your closet. What do you want me to pack for you?”

Daphne and I roomed together all four years in college. Then she lived with Brandon and me after we graduated. Of course, that was before she moved in with, and eventually married, Hudson’s oldest brother, Max. “What the heck, D?” I lower my voice, not wanting it to carry into the other room. “What are you doing in my closet?”

“Scarlet called and asked me to pack you a bag. What the hell happened?”

I grab two bottles of water from the fridge and look to see if Hudson has any wine hiding in there. It’s going to be a long night. “I’m fine. Someone broke into Crucible tonight. Hudson tried to catch them but slipped. He hurt his knee, but he’s going to be fine too.”

“Scarlet’s making too big of a deal out of this. I can get my own clothes, D.”

“You sure you know what you’re doing, Mads?”

“What do you mean? It’s only a few nights. I’ll be fine.” I pull myself up to sit on the granite counter. “He’s not hurt too bad. He can put weight on it, but it’s swollen and sore. I should be fine to help for a few days.”

I hear Daphne going through my closet and unzipping a bag, then she groans, “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. You two have danced around each other for years.”

“Hudson flirts with everyone, D. We’re friends. That’s it. I think I can resist him for a few more days.” It’s not like I have much of a choice. “What do you think I’m going to do? Jump into bed with him?” Heat prickles my skin again, and I can’t believe how hot that idea makes me.

“He’s not a long-term guy, Mads. And you’re not a one-night-stand girl.”

“I guess stranger things have happened. I mean, look at you and Max.” I laugh quietly as I look around again. I definitely didn’t see myself ending up here tonight. “I’ll be fine, D. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I guess so. Just be careful. Love you, Mads.”

“Love you too, D.” I end the call, grab a banana from the counter, and hop down. Then I pull out a pack of peas from the freezer and snag the towel sitting next to the sink before I hurry across the cold floor to where Hudson sits reclined on one of those fancy armchairs at the end of the sectional. His leg is raised in front of him, and a commentator on ESPN is discussing his upcoming fight.

Hudson looks up at me, and the look on his face breaks my heart a little. “How are you feeling, Mads?” There’s no silly smile, only exhaustion pulling at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re the one who got hurt. Because you were making sure I was safe.” Once the towel is wrapped around the peas, I place them gently on his knee. “The doctor said you need to keep ice on it.”

Hudson pats the couch next to him. “Sit down, Madison. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I’m fine.” I hold up the banana and water. “Are you hungry?”

He takes them from me and puts them on the end table. “No. I ate before I came back to the gym. How about you? Have you eaten anything? Do you need to test your sugar or something?”

I stare at him, not sure why I’m surprised he’d even think to ask that. Everyone knows I’m a diabetic, even if it’s not something I make a big deal about. “I had some trail mix at the hospital. But I should probably check my sugar. And maybe take a shower. I never got one after my class tonight.”

“The shower in my bathroom is the only one with soap and shampoo. It’s at the end of the hall at the top of the stairs.” He points behind me. “There’s a linen cabinet inside with clean towels and a laundry basket by my bed that has clean clothes in it, if you want to borrow something.”

“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that. Daphne’s going to drop my stuff off later tonight. Do you need anything?” I ask, trying to push down my discomfort at the idea of invading Hudson’s personal space.

He flashes me a forced grin. “Nah, sunshine. I’m good.”

I grab my purse and quickly make my way up the stairs and down the long hall. The door to his bedroom is open, but when I step into his space, it feels wrong.

There’s something intrinsically intimate about being in this man’s room.

An unnerving level of comfort that makes me squirm.

Another fireplace sits in the corner of the room with two chairs off to the side and a huge bed anchoring the space. The furniture looks well-loved, not brand new. And it dawns on me that this isn’t a space meant to be seen. This is a private space he’s comfortable in. And I’m not sure if comfortable being in here.

I like flirty Hudson. He’s easy to spar with.

He’s easy to disregard as a serious threat to my heart.

This . . . this is something else.

Something about this makes it just a little harder to keep Hudson Kingston in the box I’ve put him in. A flashy and ostentatious bedroom would have firmed up my manwhore assumptions. It would have helped me strengthen my walls. This . . . for some reason, this may have created the first crack in those walls, that I’ve solidly fortified since I was a little girl.

Maddie slips up the stairs, and I grab my phone from the end table. The damn thing hasn’t stopped vibrating since we left the hospital. No doubt, my family’s message thread has been blowing up. That’s never a good sign.

My brothers, sisters, and I are definitely codependent.

We’re loud. We’re obnoxious. And we’re viciously loyal to each other.

We can always count on each other to have our backs. You can also always count on them to serve you your ass when you fuck up. And when I look at the screen and see my sister Lenny yelling at me, I wish I could say I’m surprised.

Once I close out of the group text and take the peas off my knee, I try to settle my mind without any luck.

I’m defending my title in nine days.

Nine fucking days, and I’m supposed to stay off my leg for three of them.

I’m in good shape.

Hell, I’m in shape. But I still have fifteen pounds I need to cut before the fight. And every minute of training matters when you’re in that ring. Cocky is great for show, and the league loves a good show. But cockiness doesn’t win fights. Hard fucking work does. And being laid up for a few days is going to blow.

There’s a knock at the front door before it swings open, which means one of my siblings just walked in. Some days, I regret giving them keys, but it’s something we’ve always all done.

My brother Max, and his wife, Daphne, walk into the family room with a suitcase, book bag, computer bag, and a cat carrier in hand.

. Women need a ton of shit.

Daphne opens the metal gate on the carrier, and Maddie’s black-and-white cat, Cinder, darts across the room. The damn thing hates me. I haven’t been around it much, but it hisses and swishes its tail whenever I’ve been at her house.

“Where is she?” Daphne asks with a hand on her very pregnant belly.

“Taking a shower.” I motion toward the staircase, and Max and I watch his wife take the book bag up to Maddie.

Max looks me over before his eyes settle on my knee. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore as shit. But I’ll be fine.” I adjust the peas and wince. “I’m assuming Scarlet called.”

Max nods. “How’s she doing? What the fuck happened?”

“She seems okay. I don’t know if it’s hit her yet. That guy was behind her. He wasn’t going for the money or for Cade’s office. He was behind her. I’ve never been so fucking glad to forget my phone in my life.”

“Have the police said anything about any leads yet?”

“Not yet. But I’m going to call them tomorrow.”

“Pretty sure Scarlet’s already given them hell,” Max huffs before he motions toward the TV. “Turn it up.”

They’re interviewing Spider Ramirez. This fuckhead has wanted my title for two goddamned years. He hasn’t earned the fight, but that hasn’t stopped him from talking shit about me and Crucible every chance he’s gotten.

Asshole.

Max leans against the back of the couch. “You gonna give in and fight this little shit after you win next week?”

“Fuck him. He’s gotta earn it.”

I put in my time. He’s gotta do the same.

Even with a bum knee, I’m not worried about winning next week’s fight.

You don’t train like I do year-fucking-round and have a doubt.

My thoughts stop on a dime when the sweet scent of honey and vanilla wafts into the room.

skin always smells like honey and vanilla. Even after she’s finished sweating through a hot yoga class, Madison Dixon smells delicious.

And like a man searching for an oasis in the desert, she draws me in. I want to taste her skin. Her lips. Her fucking cunt to see if she’s as sweet as she smells.

It takes a few more minutes before she finally walks back into the room and takes my breath away. She drops down on the couch and lets Cinder curl around her. “Hey, baby,” she purrs at the damn cat, and that voice . . . fuck me.

When she stands up with the black and white furball in her arms, Daphne hugs her and whispers something that makes Maddie blush.

Max grips my shoulder. “I think that’s my cue. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks, man.”

Maddie walks my brother and sister-in-law to the door and locks it behind them, then joins me on the couch.

Close, but not touching.

Because Maddie never touches.

Not unless I initiate it.

There’s a story there.

One I’ve never asked about. But I will . . . eventually.

Her flawless skin has a warm pink glow from her shower, and her long hair is damp and hanging down her back. An old Philly Kings t-shirt is slipping off one bare shoulder and hangs down to her knees, covering the top half of her bare legs, and fuck me . . . she’s got a pair of socks that look like they’re made from a sweater pulled up to her knees. I’ve got no clue why that’s so sexy. But my new goal in life might be to fuck her with those socks on.

Goddamn, I’m an asshole.

She’s fucking perfect, and I’m fucking screwed.

I run my hand over my face and remind myself of Cade’s rules.

No drama.

No booze.

No women.

Two more weeks of camp before the fight.

“So,” she hesitates and tucks her legs up underneath herself. “Do you get the Hallmark channel here, King?”

Fuck me. It’s going to be a long night.