Shockingly Seductive (Addicted To You, Book Seven)
Author:Covington, Lucy

“Hold on a minute, bro.” Quarry picked a few sheets of paper of his desk and threw them at me. “You might want to check your contract before you spout off.”


The papers landed at my feet. I bent down and picked them up. It was a copy of my contract with the UFF. I glanced at it. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”


“Maybe you should have read it more closely. One of the conditions in that contract is that you train with me, at my gym, during your tenure in the UFF. That means I own you, Brown.”


I paged through and found the section he was talking about, and he was right—it actually said that I was required to fight out of Quarry’s gym, and to use him as a trainer, during the two fights that the UFF had signed me for.


My stomach sank. I reread those lines in the contract over and over again, searching for a way out. But there was none, and Quarry knew it. When I looked up at him again, he was grinning—but his eyes were cold and dead.


“Why don’t you sit the fuck back down again?” he said. “Take a load off.”


I sat down again, deflated, wondering what was next. “I’m listening.”


“Good,” he said. “Listening’s good.” Quarry opened a drawer in his desk and pulled something out, keeping it in the closed fist. He walked around the desk towards me. “I need you to get on board. I need you to be a team player, and that means you do what I say, when I say it, without question. If you don’t like my style, you can leave.


But you may as well tear up that UFF contract when you go. Because you won’t fight for them if I have any say in the matter.”


I nodded wearily. I felt like I’d taken more of a beating in this room than I had last night, fighting Uriah. “I understand.”


“Perfect. That’s what I like to hear.” He grabbed my wrist and held my hand out, palm up. Then he pressed something into my hand and let go of my wrist.


I looked down and saw a vial of liquid in my hand. The label said: nandrolone decanoate. I knew it was a steroid; I’d heard of it before, but never seen it or held a vial of it.


“Isn’t there some other way?” I asked.


He looked at me and shook his head. He walked back to his desk, opened another drawer and pulled out a syringe, encased in plastic. “It’s clean, completely sterile,” he told me, as if that made it all better.


Everything in me was sickened by what I was being forced to do. But my mind was spinning. How could I refuse? If I didn’t do it, my contract with the UFF was finished and I’d never fight for them again—or at least, not for a very long time.


Quarry ripped open the plastic and tossed the syringe across the desk. It rolled to within an inch or two of the edge and sat there, like an accusation.


“Put it in the vial and fill it up to four hundred milligrams,” he said.


I grit my teeth, picked up the syringe and plunged it into the vial, and then sucked it up until it hit the 400 mg level.


Suddenly, there was knock on the door. “Yeah?” Quarry called out.


“Coach, Jimbo thinks he might have staph.”


“What?” Quarry stood up. “Hold on a second,” he yelled.


I looked at the syringe, knowing I couldn’t do it. I was going to tell Quarry to go to hell. I couldn’t shoot this poison into my body.


Quarry glanced at me. “Hold tight. I need to see if that idiot infected my entire gym with staph bacteria or not.” He strode toward the door, opened it and left the room.


I continued to look at the syringe. As I continued to meditate on the choice I was about to make, I noticed a water bottle sitting on his desk. I didn’t know how old it was, but then again—I didn’t really care. I needed to be fast.


I plunged the syringe back into the vial and released everything it held. Then I hastily grabbed the water bottle, unscrewed the cap and sucked the contents of the water bottle into my syringe. I screwed the cap back on and put the bottle back as close to where I found it as possible.


Staring at the syringe, I thought it very possible that Quarry would notice what I’d done. But I had to hope he wasn’t going to question anything. I had to pray, because if he did figure it out—my time at his gym and in the UFF was over.


A minute later, the door to his office opened and Quarry stepped inside, smiling.


“It was a fucking spider bite. Idiots.” He held his hand out and took the syringe from me. “First time, I’ll do it for you. In the future, you can inject yourself or have one of the other guys do it. Okay?”


“Yeah.” I got up.


“Roll your sleeve up past your shoulder,” he said. He dug into his pocket, pulled out a little piece of plastic and ripped it open, revealing some kind of pad. “This is just some alcohol to clean the injection site,” he explained.


I rolled up my sleeve and he quickly swabbed an area of my shoulder. Then he took the syringe and stuck it in my shoulder. There was a hot, burning sensation as he injected me with water.


Quarry grinned. “Nicely done. You popped your cherry,” he laughed.


“Thanks,” I said.


He dropped the syringe in the trashcan and slapped me on the back. “Feel better?” he asked.