by Amity Cross
“And his opponent, please welcome Gabe O’Connell!”
Here we go, I thought to myself as everyone turned to wait for Gabe’s appearance.
The man himself pushed the curtains aside and strode past us, his stature pretty darn impressive. At six foot tall, he was a wall of sculpted muscle, complete with tattoos all over his body. They crawled all over his arms and torso, over his hands and up his neck in grayscale patterns I couldn’t make out as he passed in a flash, his stormy gray eyes firmly locked on the stage.
Chiseled jaw, check. Shaved head, check. Aura of arrogance, check. Bevy of women swooning at his feet, check.
If the gossip about him was anything to go by, he was the ultimate bad boy who put Dean’s antics to shame. Being a total magnet for troubled tattooed men, I found myself giving him the once-over. Hell, I was single now. A girl was free to look at the rival as long as she didn’t touch.
Gabe had been around for a while now, fighting his way up the ranks, and it was the first time he’d been up against one of the Twins. Considering he was one win away from being able to challenge for the title, it was being billed as one of the fights of the year by some commentators. And guess who currently held the middleweight belt? Lincoln Hayes. I didn’t know about it being the fight of the year but it was sure going to be spectacular.
I glanced at Vee as he climbed the stairs and did a flawless cartwheel-flip-tumble thing for the cameras, landing smoothly on his feet. It was a hit with the assembled fans, and they whistled and jeered. Making a show of peeling off his shirt, Gabe winked suggestively at the octagon girls before his gaze met mine. He paused for a second, obviously liking what he saw, then made a kissy face at me.
“Did he just…” Violet asked, her mouth dropping open.
“Yep,” I replied, not knowing how to take it. “That just happened.”
We glanced at one another and burst out into fits of giggles. What a self-absorbed douche.
Gabe turned and stepped onto the scales, flexing his muscles.
“Eighty point seven,” the announcer bellowed. “Gabe O’Connell!”
Gabe stepped off the scales and strode over to meet Dean, and the two faced off—stock standard eyeballed each other in an attempt to intimidate prior to the fight. There was a bit of theatrical muscle flexing from Gabe, but Dean just stood there and glared until they were pushed apart.
“This is going to be a bloody circus,” Lincoln said beside me. “We’ve been watching his past fights, and the guy likes to put on a show.”
“Arrogance,” I replied. “Surely that can be used against him?”
“Maybe, but they’re two arrogant tossers together.”
I snorted, covering my mouth with my hand. He had a point.
As the weigh-in came to a close, Vee and Lincoln cleared out, the crowd began to disperse, and I went out back to wait for Coach and Dean. Talking shop with some of the other PR reps, I kept one eye on the door. When the twin appeared, he waved to me to wait and went over to the wall of waiting fans.
There was a great deal of good things about Dean when I thought about it. He was good to the punters, taking his time to say hello, he was focused in his training and fights, and he took the AUFC’s charity work seriously, raising hundreds of thousands of dollars on his own. All of that was easy to overlook when he could be such a self-absorbed asshole who only thought about his cock. I suppose all those good things were why it was so easy to get him out of trouble when he landed headfirst in it. I just wished I didn’t have to bail him out in the first place.
Hanging back as he signed autographs and took selfies, I played with my phone, scrolling through emails for something to do while he was being fawned over.
“Hey, Blondie.”
Glancing up, I found Gabe O’Connell himself standing before me, a cocky grin pulling at his lips. He did have damn fine lips despite the arrogant asshole they were attached to.
“I have a name,” I declared coldly.
“She has bite,” he said, his gaze raking over my body. “I like it.”
“Can I do something for you, Mr. O’Connell? I am here in an official capacity just so you know.”
He smiled and reached out for my lanyard. “Oh, I know,” he said, wrapping his finger around the red strap. Glancing at the card with my credentials, his smile widened further. “Josie Cunningham.”
Yanking the card from his tattooed hand, I scowled. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
Laughing at my outburst, he declared, “How about you come and work PR for me? Leave those wankers the Hayes Twins behind and come to where the action and money is. I can beat your salary plus fifty percent.”
“No, thank you,” I said, surprised at his forthrightness. Five meters away from a wall of fans and cameras, no less.
“Fine, I’ll double whatever those limp dicks pay you.”
My eyebrows rose, and I shook my head. “You really have gall, you know that?”
He leaned in, his hand brushing over my waist, and murmured, “Directness has its advantages.”
“And I’m directly professional.”
He let his hand fall away, his gaze never leaving mine. “I know what I want, Josie, and I want the best on my team. You’re the best. Helps that you’re fucking stunning.” He lowered his gaze to my breasts, not even trying to hide the fact he was probably picturing me naked and wrapped around his cock.
Hell yeah, I loved fooling around with a bad boy but not when they expected me to be the one bowing down to them. Too bad for Gabe O’Connell, I was a harder mountain than that to climb.
“No, no, and no,” I said, putting distance between us. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m happy where I am.”
“That’s a damn shame,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “A real damn shame.”
As he walked away, totally ignoring the shouts from fans desperate for a autograph, I knew it wasn’t the last I’d be hearing from Gabe O’Connell. Guys like him had a track record of multiple attempts and they’d become more colorful as they went along. The circus was well and truly in town.
“What did he want?”
I scowled at Dean, who’d finally peeled himself away from his adoring fans to come see if I was okay.
“So you finally noticed I was being manhandled by your opponent,” I drawled, still pissed at him.
“He’s not a nice guy, Jo,” he said, wrapping his hand around my wrist.
“Duh,” I shot back, ignoring the thrill that tingled through my body at the look in his eyes. “You think I was going to let him… Wow. I do have some class, Dean Hayes player extraordinaire. How many holes have you been in?”
“What did he want?” he asked again, brushing off the fact he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.
“Thanks for the apology,” I hissed.
“I didn’t think…” he began, focusing his green eyes on my blue like laser beams. “Never.”
Damn, Dean Hayes was sexy when he smoldered like that.
“Jo?” he prodded, making me blink hard.
“He was tying to poach me,” I replied. “For a job, among other things.”
His expression fell, and he tugged me closer. “What did you say?”
“No,” I said, confused at his sudden protectiveness. “I said no.”
His features softened, and his grip loosened around my wrist. “Good,” he murmured. “Good.”
“What is this?” I asked, the question flying from my mouth before I realized what I was saying.
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“This.” I tugged my hand away from him, and he let me go, his gaze dropping like he only just realized he’d been holding onto me.
He swallowed hard and returned his gaze to mine. “Rivalry,” he said after a lengthy pause. “With Gabe.”
“Rivalry?” I tried not to sound disappointed, but I was pretty sure the word came out sounding like a needy wail.
“I know I’m a dick,” he said, moving away from me. “And I’m sorry for most of it.” Ther
e he went being infuriating again. “But we need you, Jo. If you want more money, consider it done.”
“What?” I asked, mirroring his step back. “I never asked…”
“You’re valuable to us,” he said, oblivious to the insult he’d just inadvertently slapped me with.
He was distancing himself, and I didn’t know why. Had he picked up on my stupid crush? That had to be it because he was still hung up on Monica Miller, no matter what happened between them last weekend. He’d never looked at me as anything more than his PR manager, and especially not in the way he’d looked at her. Maybe sometimes we were friends, but there was always that professional barrier. That’s all this was.
Professional jealousy.
“You have a fight tomorrow night,” I said, holding my bag close. “We better get going.”
“Yeah,” he said, watching me hold the square of leather against my chest like a shield. “Let’s get outta here.”
6
Dean
Fight night was always a big deal.
It was the moment all of us trained for. The money shot in front of an arena full of fans and television cameras. It was payday, mentally and figuratively.
Hanging out back in my locker room for the night, I paced back and forth, trying to maintain focus. Linc and I had spent the day training and going over Gabe O’Connell’s fight reel a million times, and I now felt like I was on intimate terms with the fucker’s takedown strategy. And his nipples and ass crack.
Last night, the moment I’d turned around and saw his hand on Josie, something changed. I didn’t know what, but something shifted, and it wasn’t just about me anymore. Me or the one-sided attraction to Monica. I thought Josie had been pissed about the brand crossing thing, but the more I thought about it, the more my dick wandered.
The door opened, letting Lincoln into the locker room, and then shut with a boom.
“How did you know you wanted more with Vee?” I asked.
Linc raised an eyebrow. “Where’s this coming from?”
“How did you know?” I asked again, flicking him with my towel.
He shrugged as he snatched the material away from me. “I dunno. I just did.”
I snorted. Not the answer I was looking for, but maybe there was no easy out on this. My dick was just pointing at Josie because she was newly single and I was feeling bad about how I’d been treating her. Then O’Connell had to go and stir the pot by trying to nab her away from me. Us, I meant us.
“You still hung up over Monica?” Linc asked with a frown.
“It’s not that,” I growled.
“Then what’s up your ass?”
“Gabe tried to poach Josie,” I blurted.
Linc’s expression did a one-eighty. “What? When?”
“After the weigh-in last night.”
“What did she say?” He looked troubled, and I didn’t blame him. I’d felt the same way when I’d seen O’Connell’s nasty paw on Josie’s waist.
“She said she told him to fuck off,” I replied, shaking out my arms.
“Good. I should hope so. She’s dynamite.” He glanced at me with a look in his eye that said he was about to impart some wisdom. “You need to cut her some slack, bro. If you push her any more, you’ll push her right out the door.”
“Don’t give me a lecture,” I snapped. “Not right before I fight the fucker who tried it on with her.”
Which way did I want to push her? Out the door or onto my cock? What a stupid thing to consider. Josie was untouchable.
“Dean.” We glanced at the door as Coach appeared. “It’s time to go, son.”
Linc slapped me on the shoulder and shoved me forward. “Go fuck him up, bro.”
“Ladies and gentlemen!” I could hear the announcer warming up the crowd, and I jumped from foot to foot. Coach slapped me on the shoulder and urged me forward, but I didn’t need to be shepherded.
“You’ve got this, son,” he said as we walked toward the arena. “Keep your head clear, and remember your training. O’Connell plays on the theatrics, but don’t let him sway your focus. He can be downright nasty on the takedowns, so watch your footing.”
“Yes, Coach,” I replied, shaking my hands and flexing my fingers before pulling on my gloves.
We stepped out into the arena, striding through the crowd until we reached the side of the octagon. I could see Linc, Vee, and Josie sitting in ringside seats but couldn’t look at them. Like Coach said, I had to keep my focus, and right now, there was a certain blonde who had my mind wandering all over the place.
“This is the main event of the evening!” the announcer boomed to the crowd. “Welcome to AUFC 35! This fight is three rounds deciding the contender for the middleweight title. Introducing… Fighting out of the blue corner with seven wins, zero losses, standing six foot, weighing in at eighty point seven kilograms, and fighting out of Melbourne, Australia, please welcome Gabe O’Connell!”
The camera focused on Gabe as he paced back and forth in his corner, making a show out of sliding his mouth guard in and cracking his knuckles.
Rolling my eyes, I shucked off my robe and climbed into the octagon, wearing nothing but my shorts and padded gloves. As the announcer and a second camera crew turned to me, I took my place and shoved my mouth guard in. Time to get this show on the road.
“And fighting out of the red corner with eleven wins, one loss, standing at six foot two inches, weighing in at eighty-one point three kilograms and fighting out of Sydney, Australia, please welcome Dean Hayes!”
The crowd cheered and whistled as I raised a hand to wave at them.
“Now to introduce our referee for the evening, Jase Harrington.” The ref stepped forward to the center as Gabe and I approached our marks.
“Gentlemen, you know the rules,” Harrington said, placing his hands on our chests and making a show of keeping us apart. “Protect yourselves at all times. Follow my instructions. Let’s have a clean fight, so c’mon, let’s touch gloves and do this right.”
Without hesitation, Gabe and I raised and bumped our fists, immediately turning to stride back to our corners.
Coach gave me the thumbs up, and I nodded, turning back to face O’Connell. The referee called it, and the fight began. No fuss. Clean as a whistle.
Gabe and I danced around one another, testing boundaries, and then he struck, landing a kick to my right side. I pushed him off easily, the blow bouncing off me harmlessly, and then we danced some more.
We exchanged kicks, neither of us finding a break to attempt anything more. Then Gabe took a risk and launched himself at me. In a flurry of punches, he hooked his foot around my shin, attempting to take me down, but I spun, dislodging him and spiraling toward the barrier.
He cornered me against the edge of the octagon and climbed onto my back like a little leech, trying to knock me off balance, but I was having none of that.
Gabe’s fist slammed into my face again and again, but I remembered the thing that got me through bad spots like this. My focus.
I was pinned against the side of the octagon right in front of Linc, and I could hear him screaming at me to shake the little shit off my back. Yeah, bro, didn’t I know it.
If Gabe took me down this early in the fight and won the round, then odds on he’d dent my pride and take the second, too.
Sucking in a deep breath, I pushed back and twisted at the waist, using all the strength I could muster to throw Gabe down. He hit the mat with me on top of him, and the crowd cheered, demanding blood. We grappled, fighting for dominance, and the moment I moved into a position where I could get in a clean punch, I slammed my fist into his face.
His grip loosened, but he still clung to me, and I punched him again and again. I had the upper hand, and as long as I could hold it until the siren blew, I’d have the round.
Gabe tried to free his right arm as we grappled, but my hold was perfect, and he couldn’t gain any slack to push me off. I held and held…then the siren blew.
First rou
nd was mine.
After a short interlude, the second round was underway.
We began the same way, circling and testing each other’s defenses. A few kicks glanced off me as O’Connell attempted to strike at my ribs, but nothing came close.
Focus, Dean. Focus.
Then O’Connell launched an attack, but I raised my arms, locking him against me. He growled in frustration, and we grappled furiously, trying to push each other off balance. It was tense as we butted heads, our feet sliding across the mat as we wrestled.
“It’s only a matter of time before I have Josie,” Gabe muttered in my ear.
I stumbled, and he took the break in my focus and used it against me. Breaking free of the grapple, his fist slammed into my face, the force throwing me off balance, and I spun, falling flat on my face. The crowd was going fucking crazy, but I could hardly hear them as my ears began to ring.
Gabe threw himself on me, locking me into an impossible hold. I thrashed against him, trying to counter his attack, but I couldn’t move.
“She’ll be on my team, promoting me to the masses,” Gabe murmured into my ear. It was soft enough the microphones couldn’t pick up the sound, but I was sure the commentators would pick up on it and speculate. By the end of the night, there’d be rumors of a bitter rivalry between us.
“Then she’ll be around my cock, promoting something else,” he went on, laughing like it was already a done deal.
The siren blew, signaling the end of round two, and Harrington broke us apart.
Slamming my fists on the mat, I cursed loudly. Shoving to my feet, I swiped away the trickle of blood running down my face. The fucker had split my eyebrow.
Returning to my corner, I glared at Coach, who gestured for me to kneel. He jumped into the cage and dabbed a towel against my cut, wiping the blood away. “I don’t know what he said to you, but don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to split your focus. Shut him out.”
“Yes, Coach.” I nodded, my gaze lifting.
I don’t know if it was intentional or unconscious, but I saw Josie sitting next to my brother. Our gazes locked, and she nodded.
