Until You're Mine (Fighting for Her)

by Cindi Madsen

  “Knox? If that’s not your goal, then what the hell are we doing here?”

  “That’s the goal,” I said. “I want it.” I could taste it. That belt was as good as mine.

  “Right now, Brooklyn’s here at the gym, and you’re not ranked high enough for the nonstop touring yet, so you think you can make it work. But in about a month she’ll be hours away. She’ll go back to San Francisco, and you’ve seen how hard it is for her to maintain her current long-distance relationship. Do you want that to be you? Do you want her to go back to her life up north without a support system because you thought it was more important to enjoy yourself for the next month? A month you can’t afford, at that?”

  Every sentence contained more shit. As much as I wanted to be a selfish bastard and just take what time I could with her before it ran out, I couldn’t. It’d leave her life in a mess, and if I didn’t win this fight I’d not only be a nobody again, but one without a career or source of income. She sure as hell wouldn’t want me then.

  “Do you know how many fighters want a chance to fight Conrad? Fighters who deserve it just as much as you do, so if you don’t want this opportunity, I can find someone who does. At the end of this summer, Brooklyn will leave, and that’ll be that. And if you lose the fight with Conrad, that’ll be it for you, too.” He couldn’t have punched me any harder if he’d done it with his fists instead of his words.

  “I get it.” Didn’t mean I liked it. Apparently I wasn’t as selfish as I thought, either.

  “Good. Then let’s get you ready for your fight. We’ve got some catching up to do and not a lot of time to do it.”

  Liam lifted the mitts, and I went to swinging as hard as I could, putting every ounce of frustration coursing through me into each strike.

  …

  For the rest of the week, I could tell Liam was going out of his way to prove his point about not having time to see Brooklyn. My arms ached so badly that waving to her as I passed her desk hurt. But I also had enough experience training for a fight that I knew he wasn’t completely off base. If it weren’t for the fact that she worked at the place where I trained, I might’ve managed a couple of texts and maybe fit in a meal or two, but a lot of times I fell asleep on the couch while eating my boring carb-free dinner alone.

  Without her occasional calming and revving appearances in my life, everything felt off. I’d own up to my part, but she also played a part in the distance that’d formed between us this week. She kept responses to my questions short, and she was forever mumbling about numbers and files, and…

  Just look at her over there behind her desk, all smart and sexy and drinking her second sugar-loaded soda of the day.

  The throat clearing brought me back to the torturous training that’d become my life. Liam raised an eyebrow, and I wanted to tell him looking was free, but I doubted he’d take that very well, and it’d been days since he’d gotten a hit in thanks to me getting distracted by the spunky blonde behind the desk.

  We were wrapping up our drills when I noticed a guy push through the front door of the gym. Tall and skinny, preppy as hell, and obviously in the wrong place. You missed Abercrombie and Fitch by about ten miles, dude.

  The air changed, my gut telling me I wasn’t going to like what came next.

  Brooklyn’s head popped up, and while I’d normally do just about anything to see her smile, this one sent a burning fist to my gut. She jumped out of her chair, ran to Preppy Boy, and shrieked something about him being early.

  Then she hugged him, and he lowered his lips to hers. A hand slammed into my chest, and I didn’t realize Liam had stopped my progress—or that I’d been progressing toward the embracing couple—until I caught his expression.

  I held up my hands. “My bad.”

  “If it helps, I don’t like the look of him, either.”

  That had to be the coolest fucking thing the guy had ever said to me.

  “Keep it in check or make yourself scarce.” Liam pushed out of the cage, and I followed after him, a few paces behind to make sure I was in control—not easy considering Preppy Boy had his hands on my girl.

  It made the overwhelmed, slightly terrified look on his face as Brooklyn introduced him around all the more satisfying.

  At least until she skipped over my introduction. Nice try, babe.

  “Shane Knox,” I said, nodding at the guy, because I didn’t trust myself to shake his hand without crushing it.

  Brooklyn tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, talking more in my direction than at me. “Right. I was just about to get to you. Trey, Shane Knox is one of the newer fighters on the team. Shane, Trey.” Don’t say it, don’t say it. “My boyfriend.”

  She fucking said it. She still wasn’t meeting my gaze, either. “Anyway, do you want to go grab an early dinner, or—”

  “Aren’t you going to give him the grand tour?” I asked.

  That finally did it. Her eyes met mine, fire burning in the blue, and her smile turned sharp and slicing. It made me want to push her against the nearest wall and kiss her until she submitted. Knowing her, it’d take a long time, and that’d make it all the more satisfying. “I’m sure he doesn’t want—”

  “A tour sounds good,” Clueless Boyfriend said. Really? This was the guy stopping us from relieving our overwhelming sexual tension? Some dude who couldn’t weigh more than a buck sixty dripping wet and would look more at home in one of those douche-y teen TV shows than a gym.

  After shooting daggers my way, Brooklyn took his hand and gave him the quick tour—no stop in the locker room, where she could show him the place I pushed her against the wall while wearing nothing but a towel.

  I clenched and released my fists. Just to keep calm—I’d learned how to control the urge to swing and channel it into the proper venue.

  This situation was definitely giving me a run for my money, though, all my pent-up irritation crawling under my skin, begging for a release. They’d nearly finished the tour when I decided to let my inner asshole off the leash and wreak a little more havoc. “You forgot to show him the cage. We’ve gotta see what he’s made of.”

  Brooklyn tilted her head, shooting me that same exasperated expression she’d given me dozens of times in the past month. “You’re a professional fighter, Shane. He’s not getting into the cage with you.” She even stepped in front of him, shielding him from me—he definitely wasn’t qualified to protect her. And I thought he should know that.

  “Not me.” I jerked my chin at Brooklyn. “Have you seen your girl in action? You should get into the cage with her and let her show you a few moves.”

  He chuckled and placed his hands on her shoulders, increasing my desire to break every one of his fingers. “I wouldn’t want to hurt her.”

  “Yea—wait. What?” Brooklyn glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’ve had a lot of training. I pretty much grew up in this gym.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and tucked his chin on her shoulder. “I know, angel, but I outweigh you, and men are just physically stronger.”

  I couldn’t write this shit and hand him more perfect lines to piss her off. Her jaw tightened, and any second her eye would start twitching.

  “Hmm,” I said, nodding and putting on my most overly-contemplative look. “I guess I never thought of that. What about you? Angel?”

  “I’m… I don’t…” Now she turned the sharp smile on Trey. “You don’t think I could show you a few moves? I’ve had a lot of self-defense training.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think those work much in real life situations.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s just see.” She walked over to the cage and gestured her boyfriend inside. I moved closer, and she poked her finger through one of the links to jab me in the chest. “You… Just grr.”

  “Now is that any way for an angel to behave?”

  “After I show him how well my self-defense moves work, I’m going to come test out yours, and I hope you’re ready, because I’m planning on murdering you.”
<
br />   “Can’t wait.” I blew her a kiss, riling her up a bit more for good measure.

  While the other guys had hung back, they began to crowd closer, and there were even a few jeers and cheers. Sounded like all of us wanted to see Preppy Boy hit the mat.

  “Okay, so come at me,” Brooklyn said.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Brooklyn’s entire demeanor drifted into patronizing territory. “Trust me, that’s not something you should be afraid of.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed—finally, one of his buttons had been pushed. That would make this even more satisfying.

  He moved closer and then reached out to grab her. She wrapped up his arm, and put her other hand around his neck, halting his progress toward her. Then she took it up a notch, executing a flying arm bar and rolling him onto the ground before he even knew what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

  Jeers and a few snickers traveled through the captive audience.

  Preppy Boy stood up, his face bright red. “In a real attack, I wouldn’t come at you so slow. I’d—”

  “Less talk, more walk,” Brooklyn said, her fiery side out and fully in control.

  He came at her, harder this time. She dove for his leg and used his weight against him, executing the same sweep she’d gotten me with the first night we’d stepped in the cage. The smack of his back hitting the mat sounded extra loud in the quiet.

  The gym erupted.

  The fire drained from Brooklyn’s features as she glanced around, remorse taking its place. I hadn’t meant for that part to happen, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy watching her school the guy. “So, um, yeah. Those defensive moves really do work.” She stood and offered her boyfriend a hand up, and the crybaby didn’t take it. Once he’d pushed himself to his feet, Brooklyn wrapped her fingers around his upper arm. “Let’s get out of here and grab some dinner.”

  “Sure,” he said, tension brewing in the air between them. I tried to feel bad about causing it but couldn’t bring myself to. What could I say, she’d turned me into a jealous asshole.

  She dug the keys out of her pocket and tossed them to him. “The Mustang’s in the parking lot behind the gym. I’ve just got to grab a few things, then I’ll be right there.”

  I could practically feel the frustration wafting off her as she brushed past the sea of onlookers. They scattered, but I didn’t have good survival skills, so I followed her.

  Her purse caught on something under her desk, and when she yanked it, everything spilled out and went flying. I bent to help, and she snatched the items out of my hand and stuffed them in her purse. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “You did it, and I’m proud as hell. He needs to know what you’re capable of.”

  “That’s funny, saying he needs to know I can take care of myself when you’re the one who won’t even leave me alone in the gym. You’re the one who doesn’t know what I’m capable of, you fucking hypocrite.”

  I’d stoked the fire, so I’d deal with the flames. The fact that I’d take any kind of passion at this point, as long as it was aimed at me, only proved how far gone I was for the girl. “Fine, you got me. But at least I could protect you if you ran into trouble. That guy certainly couldn’t. He’s soft. Cookie dough.”

  “For your information, I happen to like soft.”

  I cupped her chin, forcing her icy blue gaze to mine. “No, you want to want soft, but you don’t. You want hard.”

  I ran my thumb along her jawline. “It’ll never work out—he doesn’t even know you. There are dozens of things I’d call you, but since I do know you, ‘angel’ sure as hell wouldn’t be one of them.”

  I moved my thumb, dragging it across her bottom lip, and desire like I’d never felt before seared through my veins, laying waste to everything else. “Now. Now, now, for the love of God now.”

  She turned her head away, and I dropped my hand, even though it went the opposite of my instincts. When her eyes met mine again, they were glossy. “You’ve hardly talked to me all week, and now that my boyfriend shows up you suddenly want to kiss me?”

  “I want to kiss you every time I see you. If I had my way, I’d be kissing you every second of every fucking day.”

  She shook her head, and I felt two inches tall. I’d pushed too far. I was an asshole.

  “You okay down there?” Finn asked, peeking over the half wall that’d kept us nice and hidden for a few minutes.

  Brooklyn stood, threw her purse over her shoulder, and stormed away from me and out of the gym.

  I thought I’d known misery before, but this was deeper than that, the kind that ached down to my bones.

  I’d let her slip out of my fingers this week as I focused every ounce of my energy on training for my huge upcoming fight, and I was afraid it was something I was going to regret for a very long time.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Brooklyn

  “Do you want to watch something?” I asked Trey, very aware of the good foot of space between us on the couch. You know what takes all the air out of your boyfriend surprising you by showing up early? Taking him down to the mat two times in a row. There’d been a voice in the back of my mind screaming it was a bad idea to step into the cage with him, but I’d let my pride and my irritation that he thought he could take me down so easily win out over common sense.

  I’d let fucking Shane Knox mess with my head.

  I ran my palms down my jeans. “I’m sorry about the gym. I just—”

  “Let’s never talk about the gym again.” While Trey’s voice was as calm as ever, his words held a finality he didn’t usually use.

  I picked up the remote, deciding anything was better than the impenetrable silence, but hesitated before clicking the power button. “Can’t it be something you’re proud of?”

  “My girlfriend humiliating me in front of the meatheads she hangs out with all the time? You want me to be proud of that?”

  “Yes?” When he put it like that, I supposed it didn’t exactly sound like something you bragged about at the company picnic. Still, I was proud I could defend myself. I’d felt stronger these past few weeks, and I didn’t realize how important that was to me until I’d questioned how well I could still protect myself. “I’m related to most of the meatheads, if that makes you feel better.”

  “No. It doesn’t make me feel any better, Brooklyn.”

  I grimaced, at a loss what to try next. I’d spent the first two weeks here in San Diego anticipating this trip and the next two confused and torn how to feel about us in general. Never in a million years could I have predicted it’d go this badly. “Do you want to go to the beach?”

  Trey sighed. “This… Us…” He raked his hands through his sandy-colored hair and leaned forward on his forearms. “Long-distance has been rough. A lot rougher than I thought it’d be.”

  I nodded. “It has. Are you saying that…you want to take a break?” It killed me that relief was my main emotion, kicking sorrow off the stage.

  “I feel like I don’t even know who you are.”

  “Because I know some self-defense moves and a few MMA takedowns?”

  “Because there’s this whole other side to you, but mostly because of that guy at the gym,” Trey said. “You’re not that way with me.”

  I shrugged. “I’m sorry I don’t want to murder you the way I want to murder him.”

  Trey slanted me a look, and shit, I was going to cry, and I hated crying. “I wish I didn’t want to murder him so badly.” Or kiss him, or do more with him.

  My…boyfriend? gave me a sad smile.

  Out it came, one word at a time. Working at the gym and fitting in workouts; running into my ex at the bar and putting on an act to get Shane the fight; and how my old life was wrapping its tentacles around me and trying to pull me back into it.

  Then dead silence.

  It felt like an hour but probably only lasted a minute or two—in other words, they were in-the-cage minutes, where each second slowed dow
n and stretched into infinite possibilities for pain.

  “I knew the second I kissed you at the gym that it was over,” Trey said. “All those weeks apart, and you didn’t kiss me back.”

  A sharp pang went through my chest—the plan had been to kiss him, mostly so I could convince myself that my doubts would disappear once we were in the same zip code again. But I couldn’t bring myself to truly do it, not with Shane in the same vicinity.

  I sniffed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you more over the phone. I kept almost saying something and then holding back. Mostly because you’re, like, the perfect boyfriend. You’re safe and reliable, and you were always there when I needed you. I probably never told you how much I appreciated that, but I did.”

  He shrugged one shoulder, humble as ever. “And just so you don’t feel too horrible, I’ve been spending a lot of time with Emily. Nothing’s happened, but…”

  “You want it to.”

  “There’s something there.” His eyebrows drew together. “Maybe.”

  Again, I felt mostly relief. The mix of sadness and anxiety tightening my lungs was more because a phase of my life was ending and I didn’t know what that meant about my future. “If it’s not too weird, I can text her and tell her she has my blessing.”

  “Oh, no, that’d be super weird. Please don’t do that.”

  I laughed and held up my hands in surrender. “All right. I’ll let you sweep her off her feet without warning.” I slumped back into the couch cushions, the weight that’d been pushing me down for so long finally easing up.

  “Now that some of the bruising on my pride’s wearing off, I am a little impressed at your moves.”

  I wanted to shove his shoulder, but touching him was suddenly awkward. “A little?”

  He chuckled. “A lot.”

  “Better.” I picked up my phone. “Shall I order pizza?”

  “Even though this is the calmest breakup I’ve ever experienced, I don’t know if I want to sit here and pretend nothing’s changed.” Trey scooted to the edge of the couch and tapped his fingers on his knee in that way he did when he was anxious. “I think I’m going to see how soon I can get a flight out of town. Southern California and I aren’t jelling.”