by Abby Niles
And she didn’t have the strength to send him home.
Chapter Twelve
After being with CMC, Mac had forgotten the crazy setup of the smaller circuits. The event he, Gayle, and Lance were headed to was being held outside at a popular bar and grill in Wichita. A portion of the parking lot had been sectioned off and about a hundred folding chairs surrounded a cage. Already the area was packed with people. A bunch of them were standing since all the seats had long since been filled.
To keep a low profile, Mac had worn a baseball cap. If they let him fight, it wouldn’t be long before everyone realized who he was, and he’d rather spend time with Gayle than be swarmed by well-meaning but persistent fans.
As they followed Lance into the bar, Mac wrapped his arm around her bare shoulders and brought her close to his side. She didn’t hesitate to melt into him. He loved that about her. She just gave over everything freely, without thought, without question. Pride at having her on his arm swelled through him, especially as he noted some appreciative once-overs from other men as they walked by. In a black corset-type halter top and short jean skirt, she looked like walking dynamite. He couldn’t blame the men for noticing her.
They could look all they wanted. Gayle was his.
This morning, he’d enjoyed waking up beside her, had enjoyed even more sneaking downstairs and cooking her breakfast while she slept. Afterward, she’d spent the morning watching him and Lance train, and then he’d spent the rest of the stormy afternoon with her, kissing his way down her body without one thought to the crashing thunder and flashing lightning.
And he’d come to realize that what Lance had told him from day one was right.
Gayle was good for him.
Not only for letting go of the past, but also thinking of a future…with her.
The idea terrified him, but when they’d gotten home the day before yesterday and he’d gone to Lance’s and she’d returned to her place, he’d missed her. Like crazy. It hadn’t taken much for him to find his way over to her place with a bag full of groceries from his friend’s fridge.
He hadn’t left her side since.
Though there was fear lurking in such closeness, having her beside him felt right. Made him believe that as long as he had her he could do anything—possibly even including moving back to Kansas.
Of course, then he’d think about the storm chasing and how close she’d come to being hurt, and his gut twisted. Even though she took every precaution, it was still too damn dangerous.
Yet she did so much good with her job.
He was so fucking torn on how he felt about it.
He looked down at her. No reason to mull over it now. They still had a few weeks together before any big decisions needed to be made. Best see how things played out before he got wrapped up in all the other stuff.
Just enjoy being with her and how she made him feel.
“Man, with you incognito like this I feel all special,” she whispered.
Chuckling, he hugged her tighter. Lance pushed aside a black tarp that hung at the back of the bar and held it aside as Mac and Gayle ducked underneath. Behind it were a registration table and the group of fighters with the coaches waiting for the event to start. Lance sauntered up to the coordinator.
Mac waited until his friend pointed over at him, then removed his cap.
“Holy shit,” the coordinator muttered.
“I was hoping I could get in on the action tonight.”
The man grimaced. “The cards are full. I don’t have anyone available to fight you.”
Damn. He figured that was the way it would go, but he was disappointed, nonetheless. The ego wanted to show off his manliness in front of Gayle. Though he got to do that during training, it wasn’t the same as the raw testosterone of a real fight. Yeah, he was all man in bed, but after the emotional crap she’d witnessed him struggle with, he wanted her to see him as a man in life, too.
“I’ll fight his sorry ass.” A deep, gravelly voice boomed from behind him.
Mac twisted around and exhaled in a burst of surprise. “Fuck me. Are you serious?” He released Gayle to pound the back of the powerhouse of a man he hadn’t seen in years. “Man, what are you doing here?”
“I own a training facility in Wichita. A few of my guys are on the card tonight.”
“That’s great, man.” He couldn’t believe Ragin was here. They’d trained together back in the day, when Mac was treating MMA as more of a hobby than a career. Ragin had never gone pro, had stuck with the coaching route. The six-foot tall, light-haired man was still rock solid. “I see getting older hasn’t softened you any.”
“Nah. I’m stronger at forty-one than I was in my twenties.”
“Have you gotten in the cage with a kid?”
“I’m about to, ain’t I? Think your young ass can keep up with my old one?” He nodded at the coordinator. “What do you say, Trent? Surprise everyone with a special last minute fight? I think the fans will dig it.”
Mac grinned. He dug it, too. He just hoped he wouldn’t pound the guy too far into the dirt.
Lance helped Mac tape his hands and put on his gloves. His friend sported a nice shiner under his left eye from his fight a bit earlier, but other than one good clock from his opponent, his friend had dominated the other man—a more skilled and younger fighter.
“You didn’t need me to come out here,” Mac said. “Submissions you’ve been struggling with during training, you executed flawlessly. What have you been doing? Faking it while we trained?”
Lance stilled guiltily for a second, then he shoved the last glove on Mac’s hand. “No. I didn’t need you here,” he finally admitted.
“Then why ask me?”
“Because I missed you and I was worried about you.” His friend straightened and met Mac’s gaze. “I couldn’t figure out any other way to get you to come here willingly. The fight seemed like the perfect excuse.”
Mac was silent for a long moment. “Thank you.”
“Wow.” Lance shook his head. “Gayle really has done wonders for you.”
“Gayle has done a lot, but it’s not been all her. It’s being back in Kansas and having you all up in my grill. Nobody else does that kind of shit to me, Lance, just you. If you hadn’t decided to be a lying, sneaky bastard, I’d still be in my apartment in Atlanta haunted by the past.” He pulled his friend forward and beat a fist against his shoulder blade in a bro hug. “I love ya, man.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Feeling’s mutual,” Lance muttered as he returned a couple of thumps to Mac’s back.
They broke apart, and Mac studied his friend. “I don’t guess your money situation…” He let his sentence trail off, hating himself for even bringing it up, but he hoped the reason his friend had been so adamant on not accepting any financial help was because he didn’t really need it.
Lance gave a weary smile, but there wasn’t any resentment at him for bringing up the topic. “I wish I’d been faking that, too, buddy, but no, I still owe a shitload of money. And I’m still banking on getting into CMC to help.” He cleared his throat. “But enough of this heart-to-heart shit. Go out there and kick Ragin’s ass.”
Mac nodded as he popped in his mouth guard. After going out the back entrance, he followed a roped-off area that led to the cage. A guy in jeans stood in the middle with a microphone. As Mac started passing people, the whispers started. Multiple, “Holy shit. Did you see who that was?” and, “Fucking-A! It’s Mac ‘The Snake’ Hannon!” made him smile. His tattoos made him easily recognizable to any fan of CMC.
He jogged up the stairs and through the cage’s door. He scanned the area for Gayle and found her sitting in the front row—something he’d made sure would happen as soon as Trent agreed to let him and Ragin fight. What he didn’t expect to see was some motherfucker sitting next to her hitting on her hardcore. She was not encouraging the attention. If anything, she was discouraging him, but the asshole wouldn’t take the hint. As he laid a hand on her knee, which she smacked away, M
ac started for the exit. Lance held up his hand to stop him. His best friend walked over to the man, squeezed his shoulder roughly, and said something in the fucker’s ear. He beat a hasty retreat and Lance took the empty seat. The tension eased out of Mac.
“We have a special treat for you guys and gals tonight! Mac ‘The Snake’ Hannon is in the house.” The place went nuts. “He’s agreed to fight the well-respected and fucking awesome, Ragin Coolier.” Wild applause and screaming roared around them as the announcer turned to them. “You guys know the rules, go fight.” He left the cage.
Not used to the casual introduction, Mac shook his head. Ragin raised his arm and Mac tapped his glove to the other fighter’s, showing his respect. Then the fight was on.
Until that very second, he hadn’t realized how much of a disadvantage he was really at. Usually he spent weeks to months preparing for a fight, which included studying his opponent. He had no idea what Ragin’s strengths or weaknesses were, what he could use to his advantage, or what could be used against him. This was a blind fight…and it energized the hell out of him.
He threw the first jab, catching Ragin on the cheek. The hit seemed to light a fire under the old man, as well, and he returned the favor. The next two minutes were an all-out brawl. There weren’t any clenches against the cage, no knees, no kicks. The fight stayed in the middle of the canvas and consisted of two men punching the ever-loving shit out of each other. Blows were given with so much strength the impact cracked loudly, making the crowd cringe and yell, “Ohhh!” A few shots were missed, others dodged. By the end of the first round, Mac was covered in sweat and was blinking blood out of his right eye. Ragin didn’t look any better, with a gash opened up across the bridge of his nose.
One thing was for fucking sure, his old buddy still had one hell of a punch. Lance came up in the cage, while a couple of guys from another team helped stop the blood from the cut on his brow and give him water.
“You should hear Gayle squealing. It’s fucking hilarious.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Flinching, slapping her hands to her face, muttering ‘crazy idiot,’ the whole nine yards.”
Mac gave a pained laugh. “The woman can walk into the eye of a tornado without blinking, but can’t watch the man she’s sleeping with take a punch? Who’da thought?”
Lance clapped him on the shoulder and trotted out of the cage to rejoin Gayle.
As the second round commenced, Mac and Ragin circled around each other. Mac threw a couple of soft jabs to feel out the other fighter. Ragin just weaved back and forth. Apparently, he wasn’t up for another slugfest. That was just fine with Mac. He dove into the fighter’s side, taking him off his feet and crashing him to the canvas on his back. Within seconds, he had Ragin’s arm locked in an arm bar. Immediately, he felt four quick taps to his shoulder. The referee waved his arms, signaling the end of the fight, and Mac released him.
Ragin pounded him on the back. “There’s a reason you made it into the CMC, Hannon. You’re tough as fucking nails. If you ever decide to move up this way, I’d love to have you in my gym.”
And there was that moving topic again.
“It’s definitely something to consider.”
As he walked out, Gayle and Lance came rushing up. She searched his face and kept coming back to rest on his eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
“Trust me, I’ve been a lot worse.”
“I knew MMA was about fighting, but seeing it firsthand—holy shit. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Let me get cleaned up and I’ll meet you guys in the bar. I could use a beer.”
He gave Gayle a quick kiss, then hurried back inside the area behind the tarp. The wife of one of the fighters, who also happened to be an ER nurse, was volunteering. Knowing he needed at least to get the wound taped, he sat down.
She cleaned it and put a butterfly bandage over it. “Looks like you took some good hits out there.” She peered at him. “Along the jaw and the nose.”
“Ragin packs quite a punch,” he said as he stood up. “Thanks.”
In fact, he had a slight headache. Nothing a couple of aspirin wouldn’t cure, but it had been a long time since he’d had his noggin rung hard enough in the cage to leave a dull throb in it.
After he showered and changed back into his jeans and T-shirt, he stepped into the bar. Rock music was thumping from the speakers. Some of the fighters had stayed to enjoy the rest of the night. The place was jamming. He ordered a beer from the bartender, then scanned the room for Lance and Gayle. Neither of them were to be found. A momentary sense of panic rushed over him, then rational thought took control. Gayle probably had to go to the bathroom and Lance had escorted her there so she didn’t get hit on by any more men. That made sense. Something bad happening to her, didn’t.
“I saw you kissin’ Gayle.”
At the intrusive voice, Mac glanced over. The brown-haired motherfucker who’d dared touch Gayle was standing beside him. Sort of. The man reeked of alcohol, and he swayed alarmingly. A glassy sheen of inebriation glazed his eyes.
Goddammit, this was all he needed.
“What the fuck do you want?” he asked with no attempt to cover his hostility. Seemed the old Mac was still in there.
“Ah. You did see me hittin’ on her.” Chuckling, the jackass shrugged. “Can’t blame a man for tryin’. So you’re her current boy toy. Go, Gayle.”
This drunk ass was seriously starting to get on Mac’s nerves. He took a long swallow of beer, eyes sweeping the bar for her. And then she was there, stepping out from the hallway where the bathrooms were.
The guy grunted appreciatively. “Damn, I miss that fuckin’ body.”
Taken aback by the audacity of the man, sloshed out of his senses or not, Mac slowly turned his head and glared at him. “Dude. Are you fucking asking to get your teeth shoved down your throat?”
“What? I only got a piece of that a couple of times.” He smacked Mac on the back like they were buddies. “Enjoy it while it lasts, bro, ‘cause she’s gonna drop you fast and then you’ll be just like me, wishin’ for one more round.” As Gayle neared them, he muttered, “Hell, why not?”
Next thing Mac knew, Gayle was in the drunk’s arms, his mouth all over hers, and Mac saw red. Slamming down his glass, he yanked the fucker around and clocked him one on the jaw. The drunk crumbled on the spot. Mouth dropped open, Gayle stared down, then looked up at Mac with an expression that clearly said, “What the hell are you doing?” then stared back down at the guy.
Mac threw up his hands. What the fuck had he done wrong? He wasn’t the one mauling her, that asshole was.
“Kevin,” she said as she stooped beside him. Hot, potent jealousy flared bright at her obvious concern for the dickweed. “Are you okay?”
Mac clenched his teeth.
Kevin rubbed his jaw. “Holy shit. Gayle, did you see that? I just had a CMC fighter punch me. How fucking cool is that?”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s fine.”
As she stood, she didn’t even glance in Mac’s direction, just marched her beautiful, furious ass out of the bar. And all Mac could do was follow, wondering where the fuck he’d gone wrong.
The tension in the car was palpable. Gayle shook her foot with all the anger she was feeling as she stared out the window of the back seat. While Mac drove, Lance fiddled with the music stations, most likely because he wanted out of the car.
Gayle did not understand what had crawled up Mac’s ass. Yeah, Kevin had kissed her. He was drunk. There had been no reason to punch him, especially when throwing the hardest, fastest punch was how Mac made a living. It was totally unfair and uncalled for. That was probably the first punch Kevin had ever taken. If Mac would’ve just chilled out for a damn minute, she would’ve handled the situation on her own.
Mac parked the Jeep behind Lance’s house. His friend jumped out and was gone within seconds. She opened her door, intent on doing the same.
“Stay in the car, Gayle.”
She stared at the back of his head. Yeah, she found the dominating thing hot in bed, but now? Not so much.
“Yeah. Screw you, Mac.”
She hopped out, slammed the door, sent him an eat-shit expression through the driver’s side window, then stormed off across the field.
She’d made it halfway to her house before he came up behind her.
“You are such a pain in the ass!” he yelled.
She turned but continued walking backward. “Why? Because I didn’t obey and sit like a good doggie? If you want me to stick around while you are being a complete pain in the ass, don’t tell me what to do, ask me, or you’re going to get the exact opposite. Do you understand?”
He thrust a hand through his hair and inhaled deeply. “You’re right. I apologize. Gayle, I would like to talk about tonight please.”
“That’s better.” She stopped. “What the hell got into you?”
He strode up to her, put his hand on her lower back, pivoted her around again, and led her to the bottom step of her stoop. He linked his fingers between his knees and hung his head. “I got jealous.”
“There was no reason to be jealous of Kevin.”
“It wasn’t actually him. It was something he said to me before you walked up.”
“What?”
“He told me to enjoy you now, because you would drop me and move on fast. He called me your current boy toy.”
“Did he, now?”
“He also alluded to the fact he’d like a second go at you, right before he grabbed and kissed you, thus, my momentary chest-pounding moment.” He was silent for a moment. “You date a lot, it seems.”
It was a statement, but she answered, “Yes,” anyway.
“Why?”
As long as they were being brutally honest… “Better to be the leaver than the leavee.”
She could almost hear his teeth grind. “I’m hoping there’s more behind those words than smug bitch.”
Gayle exhaled. Was she really going to tell him all the sordid details? Studying his hanging head, she realized, yeah, she was. He already knew about Sam, and about him dying in the tornado with her family, but not the rest. Not the part that still drove her.
