Holding Mia (Rockers' Legacy Book 1) Read online

  “No Rodger and no Marcus, but I need you to check in with me every day. No excuses. If you don’t check in by a certain time every day, we’re going to have issues. Like me showing up at your dorm, making sure you are okay. And Rodger moving in to the dorm room next door.”

  “I can do that,” I promised readily.

  “I get to vet your roommate. If they don’t pass a background check, I get to pull some strings and find you one who does pass one.”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  “You have to keep your grades up. If you fail even one class, you come home and go to a school closer to home.”

  “Sure. I don’t foresee that happening, but okay.” I sat there, patiently waiting for her to give me a hundred more rules, but surprisingly, there were none. “Is that…all?”

  “For now,” she said with a heavy sigh.

  “But what about Daddy and the others?” I worried. “They won’t go for any of this.”

  Her smile grew stronger. “Oh, honey. Haven’t you learned by now that I call all the shots around here?”

  “But it’s going to cause trouble between you and Daddy.” I could already imagine them arguing about it, and my guilt returned tenfold.

  “Let me worry about that. All I care about is your happiness.”

  I threw my arms around her neck, hugging her so tight, neither of us could breathe for a moment. “I love you so much, Momma. This means everything to me. You don’t even know. Thank you so, so much.”

  She stroked her hands down my back. “I love you too, Mia. I hope you always know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, baby.”

  Chapter 1

  Mia

  August

  Stretching the tightness out of my shoulders, I pulled on a pair of Converse, excitement making me almost giddy despite the fact that I still had an English class to get through.

  Later that evening, I would be starting my job. The first one I’d ever had. I couldn’t wait to get to Cora’s School of Performing Arts after my afternoon class and start teaching all the little kids to fall in love with dance as much as I did when I was five. That was why I wanted to start my own dance school once college was over, to see the joy and excitement on other kids’ faces when they realized dancing was everything.

  “You haven’t stopped smiling since you woke up,” Lyla grumbled from where she was sitting up in her twin bed, watching something on Netflix on her iPad. “It’s way too early for that kind of enthusiasm.”

  Laughing, I grabbed my little ballet slipper pillow and tossed it at her. She caught it deftly without even lifting her gaze from the screen and tossed it back. I was so surprised she was able to catch it without taking her eyes off the K-drama she was watching, I was taken off guard when the pillow hit me square in the face.

  “Umph,” I grunted and carefully replaced my cute little pillow that Momma had given me when I was twelve on my bed. “It’s noon,” I reminded my roommate. “I’ve already had a morning class, and you’re just waking up.”

  “I had a late night,” she said with a shrug, pushing her long, gorgeous dark hair over her shoulder. Dressed in nothing more than a huge T-shirt that looked like it had seen better days, but I’d learned my roomie couldn’t live without, and half her makeup still on from the night before, because she must have been too tired to fully take it off, she still looked freaking perfect. I’d gotten to know her a little in the last week since moving in to the dorm with her, but honestly, I still didn’t know a whole lot. She must have passed Momma’s background check, though. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be roommates. “And morning classes suuuuck.”

  Snickering at her melodrama, I grabbed my bag, book, and phone. “See you later, sleepyhead.”

  She gave me a little finger wave, her eyes still glued to her iPad and her obsession. I’d heard so much Korean this past week, I was pretty sure I was starting to pick up some of the language. But I had to admit her K-dramas sounded more interesting than anything I could find without subtitles. I was going to have to check them out when I got some free time.

  Whenever that would be, I had no idea. Between classes, studying, work, and my physical therapy twice a week, I didn’t have a lot of time left over for much else. I liked it that way, though. It kept me from missing home and thinking about all the things I couldn’t change in my life.

  Like Jordan.

  My heart squeezed painfully, and not for the first time, I pulled out my phone, my thumb tracing over his name in my contact list. I wanted to call him so badly, but I knew if I did, things would be awkward for the entire conversation, just as they had been every other time I’d given in and called my best friend since the night I’d ruined everything between us.

  Refusing to feel sad, I replaced my phone and quickened my steps. My class didn’t start for another thirty minutes, but the English department was on the other side of campus from my dorm, and I knew it would take at least twenty minutes for me to walk it with my damn knee slowing me down.

  By the time I got to class, I still had a good ten minutes left before it started, but there were only a handful of seats left. Tucking my cap down a little more over my face, I tilted my head up just enough to check out my options.

  A group of giggling girls my age was sitting midway up with an open spot between themselves and some chick who looked both bored and annoyed. She kept shooting her neighbors glares that, if they’d been looking in her direction, would have shut them up.

  At the top of the class, there were two empty seats side by side, but I didn’t want to put any extra strain on my knee when I would be dancing with the little girls later.

  That left the middle of the front row where there were four empty seats but would put me front and center with the professor.

  Sighing, I limped over and took the first one, getting comfortable. Pulling out my mini laptop, I got everything ready for class, ignoring everyone else around me.

  As the next few minutes passed, two other people took the seats beside me, leaving one empty between us. But just as the professor entered the room, one last student came in behind him, and I watched as the guy walked right toward me.

  It was his slight limp that set me at ease at first, then his grim smile as he said “excuse me” in this deep voice that I instantly liked.

  Pushing back my cap just a little, I let my eyes take in all of him. And damn, but there was a lot of him. I’d been around good-looking men my entire life, but this guy was in a league all his own. Especially with those dark as hell eyes and lashes that were so long, I was kind of jealous.

  I couldn’t readily tell how old he was because he had an air of maturity the majority of guys my age didn’t possess. His shoulders were so wide, he bumped into me and the skinny guy on the other side of him, causing him to mutter a “sorry” to both of us. His skin was tanned from plenty of sunshine, and his arm, sleeved with black ink, looked exotic against mine on the armrest. I was so fair-skinned, I looked like a ghost most of the time, but I liked my skin tone.

  Pulling his book out of his backpack, my new neighbor straightened again, but his eyes caught mine on him and his lips lifted in amusement.

  “Braxton,” he introduced, offering me his hand.

  “Mia,” I said, shaking his hand. His grip was strong but gentle.

  “Well, Mia, I hope you know what you’re doing in this class, because I have no freaking idea.” He lifted his book. “I’m not much of a reader, and this crap is kind of intimidating to me. Give me flying bullets and IEDs any day of the week over Brontë.”

  “I’m not much of a reader either,” I admitted. “But I think I’ll take my chances with Jane Eyre over the war zone, actually.”

  His lips twitched with amusement. “Smart thinking.”

  “What branch are you in?” We were in Northern Virginia, and it seemed as if every other person in this part of the state was in the military, but his talking about IEDs alone told me he was.

  “Retired Marine,” he confirmed, losing some of hi
s lightheartedness, and I instantly missed the way his eyes had sparkled when he was trying not to smile. I got an ache in the pit my stomach, wondering what he must have seen to put that look in his eyes.

  The professor was already starting to introduce himself, cutting off any more conversation, but for some reason, I found myself touching Braxton’s arm and giving it a light squeeze. I felt him tense then relax, and we shared a genuine smile as we sat through the rest of class. Even though I’d just met him, I wanted to be his friend for some reason.

  Maybe I just wanted a friend of my own too. I didn’t have many of those, so adding Braxton to the list would be nice.

  It was the most boring ninety minutes of my life, but I made it through. When class was over, both Braxton and I let out a relieved breath. We still had to come back and do this again on Thursday, but at least we’d survived day one.

  “I’m starving,” Braxton said as he waited for me to put my things in my bag and stand. “Want to grab a late lunch with me?”

  I glanced at the time on my phone. “I wish I could, but I have to get to work. Rain check?”

  His lips twitched. “I’ll hold you to it, then.” Holding the door open, he motioned me ahead of him, but when I headed for the exit, he turned left instead. “See you next time, Mia.”

  I waved. “Later, Braxton.”

  On my walk to work, I texted Momma to let her know how my day had been so far. She knew my schedule as well as I did, so she wished me good luck on my first day of work, told me how much she loved me, and that she was headed into a meeting with a new client.

  I grimaced as I left campus, headed for Cora’s, wondering who Momma’s latest client was. She managed all the biggest names in rock, in the music world in general, but most of the time, it was like they worked for her instead of the other way around. But she was the best there was, and anyone who signed with her as their manager knew they would only move up in their career.

  For the next few hours, I turned off my brain to everything but dance and teaching all the giggling little girls in their brand-new leotards and ballet slippers. It was the most fun I’d had since the second tear that had officially stopped my professional dancing career.

  By the time the last little girl left, holding her daddy’s hand and waving goodbye to me over her shoulder, I was exhausted and my knee was starting to ache. But I was still smiling, and when I got back to my dorm, I was actually humming to myself.

  Loud music was thumping against the walls of our room when I walked in to find Lyla tossing clothes onto her bed. Dressed in only a black bra and matching cheeky panties, her hair and makeup already done, she looked like a knockout.

  “Shower and get dressed,” she instructed as she held up a dress in front of her. After a moment of considering it, she made a disgusted face and tossed it onto the growing pile already on her bed. “Wear something sexy.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked, limping over to my closet to grab my shower caddy. The only thing I disliked about living in the dorm was the communal shower. I hated having to share a bathroom with thirty other chicks, the majority of whom hadn’t learned to clean up after themselves yet.

  She grinned at me in the mirror hanging from the back of her side of the closet. “Somewhere fun.”

  Chapter 2

  Mia

  Somewhere fun, as Lyla said, was actually on the outskirts of town. A black town car picked us up in front of the dorm and drove for twenty-plus minutes. A good half a mile before we reached our destination, however, we started seeing people parking their own vehicles and walking.

  It was dark out, and even though it was a Tuesday, I could tell a lot of them were drunk as they laughed obnoxiously loudly and stumbled over the uneven road.

  Beside me, Lyla was texting away, paying the driver and the crowd outside her window no attention.

  The fact that my roommate had a driver pick us up should have surprised me, but I was so used to having a driver that I didn’t even think about it until we slowly eased toward what looked like a warehouse that was lit up like a beacon in the night and appeared to be everyone’s destination.

  “Lyla?”

  “Hmm?” she asked distractedly without lifting her gaze from her phone where she was now angrily typing away.

  “Do you always have a town car on standby, or did you rent one for the night so we didn’t have to drive?”

  She shrugged. “My family lives locally, so I just have to make a call and I can get my brother’s driver whenever I need him. I have a vehicle of my own at his place, but I’m not a fan of driving around town.” Another shrug before she stabbed send for the last time and then turned off her phone with an angry huff. “And I’m actually thinking maybe we should have just gone to a freaking frat party or something. I hate people.”

  “Who do we hate?” She looked beyond pissed, but due to the headlights from someone’s car, I saw her eyes clearly for the first time and realized she was hurting.

  “Just some guy. He’s a douchebag and totally not worth my time… Or so he keeps telling me.” She pushed her hair back from her face with one hand then reached over to give my hand a firm squeeze. “But whatever. I’m going to introduce you to my people, and we’re going to have some fun. Fuck Howler.”

  “Howler?” I laughed. I’d grown up around rockers my entire life, but that name just made me giggle.

  Lyla snorted. “It’s his cage name. All my brother’s friends have them, even him. None of them really goes by anything else, except one or two.”

  “I get it,” I assured her, glancing out the front window at the warehouse. “What is this place?”

  “This is one of many locations of the Underground,” she informed me, a wicked grin replacing her earlier sadness. “Ever been to a fight before?”

  “Like MMA or boxing?” She nodded. “No. My brother has, though, but I’ve never tagged along.”

  “Well, you’re about to see your first one up close and personal. The Underground is where the party is at. Fights are held on random days of the week, just depends on what is going on. And you have to be in the know to get invited. Tonight was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing from what I’ve heard, but this fight is going to be bloody.”

  The driver pulled up in front of the entrance to the Underground, and some guy in jeans and a plain black T-shirt opened Lyla’s door. She took his hand, allowing him to assist her before turning back to offer me her hand.

  As I stepped out, I noticed people stopping to stare and instantly felt exposed. I wanted my ball cap back, but my roommate had forbidden me to wear it, complaining it would ruin my hair. But after only a moment, I realized it wasn’t me they were looking at.

  It was Lyla.

  People stopped what they were doing and instantly started whispering her name. I felt on edge, used to this kind of thing but having hoped not to experience it in my temporary new home. Lyla didn’t even seem fazed by it as she linked her arm through mine and guided me through the crowd into the building. A crowd that literally parted just for her, without the aid of bodyguards or even a hard look from the beautiful chick at my side.

  In the warehouse, I saw bleachers taking up two of the walls, but no one was using them at the moment. People were all standing around the metal octagon in the middle of the huge room, and I realized most of them were exchanging money—betting on the outcome of the fight about to take place.

  “Lyla!”

  I felt more than heard her sigh as she turned her head and looked straight at some guy with dreadlocks. He was lean, dressed in a white wife-beater and tattered jeans. Ink took up most of his left arm but was, oddly, not part of a sleeve.

  Lyla paused, letting the guy come to us.

  “What is it, Downtown?” she asked, a bite to her tone.

  “Judge said to let you know he is looking for you. He’s not happy with you.” He sneered at her, and she lifted a brow, her entire expression blank as she stared him down. Only a handful of seconds later, he swallowed hard and
backed up a step. “So yeah, I’m just letting you know he’s looking for you.”

  “Noted.” Without giving him a second look, she turned her back to him and walked away, taking me with her.

  “I think I love you,” I told her with a laugh as we continued through the room. “Like, seriously, you’re a badass, and I had no clue.”

  “I’m not a badass,” she denied with a roll of her eyes.

  Momma was the most intimidating woman I’d ever met, but Lyla was inching her way closer to the top of that list.

  “Who is this Judge guy Downtown said was looking for you?” I asked to change the subject.

  She sighed heavily again. “My brother. I’ll introduce you to him later if he doesn’t piss me off between now and then.”

  “And Judge is a cage name?” She nodded. “What’s his real name?”

  “I would tell you, but then he’d make me kill you,” she said matter-of-factly, and honestly, I didn’t know if she was kidding or not.

  Still, I laughed, not intimidated by her in the least. “Right. Judge it is, then.”

  A grin teased at her full, pouty lips. Shaking her head, she stopped us right in front of a bar. Five bartenders worked behind it, exchanging cash for beers, bottled water, and glasses of wine, champagne, and an amber-colored liquor I assumed was whiskey of some kind. My family didn’t drink much, mostly out of respect for Uncle Drake, who, I’d been told, had had a bit of a problem with the bottle back before he’d married the love of his life.

  Lyla stepped straight up to the bar. “Two vodka cranberries,” she told the guy and tossed him a twenty.

  Without his even checking our IDs, the drinks were set in front of her, and she picked them up, offering me one. My roomie was older than me, but I knew she wasn’t twenty-one yet. This guy didn’t seem to care one way or the other, though.

  I took a sip, telling myself I would make it last for a while. I’d had a beer or two at parties I’d secretly gone to with Jordan in the past, but back then, dancing was everything, and I’d been scared to mess it up in any way if I got drunk.