On The Ropes: Tapped Out Book 3

by Quinn, Cari

  Her vision toward me wasn’t clear. Had never been clear. And vice versa. Having sex with her had only driven home how very wrong we were for each other.

  I’d said she would be the death of me, but the truth was I’d be the death of her—unless I pushed her far away.

  I tugged open my locker, determined to put all of it away. I had a fight in two weeks that I needed to train for, and Carly Ann Anderson was a distraction I didn’t need.

  I also didn’t need Vanity slamming a fist on the locker beside me and sticking her face into mine.

  “You fucking that Anderson tramp?”

  Rather than getting mad as I normally would have, my default reaction was surprise. How the hell could word have gotten out that fast?

  Then the rest of what she’d said hit its target. “She’s not a tramp. Watch your mouth.”

  “Oh, no? Then how come I heard she used to give BJs in the back of Vinnie’s for a discount rate?”

  My fist came up before I remembered Vanity was a woman, and therefore I couldn’t clean her clock. I rammed my fist into the nearest locker instead and absorbed the burn up my arm. “You’re on thin ice. You better turn and walk away before you fall through.”

  “Defending her too. I know what that means.” She propped a shoulder on the locker and glared at me under the dark fringe of her bangs. Her eyes were heavily rimmed in black, matching her usual mood. “I just wanna know what’s got you and Fox so wrapped. I don’t believe her pussy’s that great. Sorry, just don’t.”

  “Me and Fox?” I clenched the strap of my gym bag before I realized she was talking about Mia. Holy shit. Shaking my head, I chuckled as I pulled out my tape and dumped the bag in my locker. “Rich fantasy life you have going there, Vanity.”

  “Tell me you weren’t sparring with her day before yesterday. And the day before that.”

  “She’s a good fighter. But I don’t poach.”

  Mia also wasn’t the Anderson sister who had caught my attention from day one, but I wasn’t about to give Vanity any more ammunition.

  “No, you don’t poach, you just stroll away once you’ve gotten your rocks off.” She poked a finger into my chest. “You think you can just use me and toss me aside? It doesn’t work that way, hotshot.”

  It took effort for me not to grimace. I never should’ve slept with Vanity. I’d known it at the time, but I’d been horny and she was there. Not my finest moment by far.

  Luckily, I had so many that were even worse that this one barely ranked.

  “It was months ago,” I muttered. “One time.”

  “One time we actually did it, but we danced around that shit for a good long time. And you know it.”

  I knew that I’d turned toward her when Carly had started swarming too close, which made me six kinds of an asshole. I hadn’t meant to hurt Vanity. Honestly, I’d just figured she was out for a good time like I was.

  Not the first time I’d been seriously wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” I said finally, shoving the tape in the pocket of my track pants and turning toward her. “I didn’t mean to lead you on, or make you think—”

  “You didn’t lead me on. I can’t be led.” Her brown eyes narrowed to golden slits. “I’m just saying that’s some shady crap you pulled. I know you’re banging other babes, but you’ve avoided me since you got what you wanted.” Her finger found its way into my chest once more. And I allowed it, because she was right.

  I had been a thoughtless dick.

  Though that was the role I’d adopted to play to make my way up the ranks in the Andretti organization, I had no reason to bring that BS into the gym. Vanity was someone I respected as a fighter, and beyond that, she was a woman. I’d been taught how to treat the ladies, even if the teachings I’d also been given toward my fellow man had immediately been thrown out the window.

  Some guys were decent. Too many weren’t, and it often felt like I knew most of them.

  None of that gave me cause to mistreat Vanity.

  “I’m sorry,” I began, and she let out a litany of inventive curse words as she turned away. “I never meant to hurt—”

  “Hurt?” She gave me an incredulous look over her shoulder. “Dream on, Romeo. Not fucking possible. I hurt other people. I don’t get hurt.” She sauntered out, her long dark ponytail swinging.

  I blew out a breath and leaned against the bank of lockers. Yeah, that went well.

  “Having some romantic trouble, son?”

  I looked up as Fox strolled out from the showers into the communal area. He rubbed his wet hair with a towel and cocked a brow in the direction Vanity had just gone. “She’s not a male. The security in this place is seriously lax.”

  It made me smile as I turned back to my locker. Fox often had a way of doing that, one of the reasons I liked being around him.

  Or I had. I had a feeling I’d be avoiding him a lot more often now, for good reason. He was a little too close to Carly for comfort.

  “So you and her…really?” He leaned against the locker beside me and waggled his brows. “I heard the talk, and I saw some groping. I know you get around. I just figured you traveled on better streets.”

  “She’s not so bad,” I said automatically.

  “We talking personality-wise or in the sack? Because either way, I have serious doubts.”

  I smiled again and searched through my locker for my spare mouth guard. “Didn’t she have issues with Mia?”

  “It’s a shorter list who doesn’t have issues with Mia. And I’m pretty sure I’m the only name on it.”

  “I don’t have issues with her.”

  “So I’ve heard, since you’re sparring with her on the regular. Which I’m not jealous about, because I know my penis is bigger than yours.”

  Now I smirked. “Who told you that? They lied, brother.”

  “Moving on. So what’s the deal with you and Vanity? Former tappee that wants to be current, or you just trying to shuffle her back into the rotation?”

  Jesus, that was really how he saw me. As a guy who had a “rotation” of women I slept with. Ones I dangled around like puppets on strings.

  Worse, that was exactly who I’d been for too much of the time since Emilia’s death.

  “It was a one-time thing.” I spotted my mouth guard behind a couple of spare T-shirts. “Over and done.”

  “Didn’t sound like it from her vantage. You need me to get you a couple extra cup protectors, just in case? As your friend, I’d consider it my civic duty.”

  I slammed the locker shut and shoved the mouth guard in my other pocket. “Is that what we are now? Friends?”

  I hadn’t had a friend—a real one—in too many years to count.

  “Unless you have another word.” He kept drying his hair.

  Nothing ruffled Fox. He was my antithesis in so many ways. The guy had a ready smile and a surprisingly ready fist, but he’d just as easily throw back a beer with you before and after. He didn’t take life too seriously.

  So far, I’d seen two things that he was deadly serious about—his family and Mia. And by extension, Carly.

  “No,” I said quietly. I wasn’t going to deny one of the small bits of realness I’d found, even if being with Carly had put them in jeopardy.

  Any day now, she might tell her sister and Fox what had happened at the club. She should. And they’d fully be within their rights to despise me.

  What had happened after the club wasn’t any better. I should’ve stayed away from her, no matter what. I was the one who knew better in this situation. I understood what was at risk.

  But those rare glimpses of realness in the center of all my lies were my downfall, every damn time.

  “I have some time before my ten o’clock. Wanna hit the machines?”

  I frowned, dragging myself out of my thoughts. “You just showered. Thought you were hitting the road.”

  “Ah, yeah, well, that’s not because I worked out. Mia had an early session too, and you know, my mom’s still staying wi
th us. We gotta take advantage of other locations now and then.” Walking backward, he waggled his brows again. “Gimme two, and we’ll do this.”

  I didn’t really want company today. I wanted to be alone to brood and work out my aggression the old-fashioned way—with my fists on a heavy bag. All I wanted to do was fucking punch the shit out of anything that moved.

  The heavy bag would suffice.

  We ended up on weight benches, doing the kind of reps that precluded conversation. I was grateful for that. But pumping iron for thirty minutes straight led to the need for a break. And ours started with him leaping onto the topic I most did not want to discuss.

  He started off talking about the cramped apartment, and Mia not wanting to spend her recently acquired settlement millions on anything but her shelter—some of the details were fuzzy there, because Fox tended to have diarrhea of the mouth—and Carly’s education. But Carly was arguing about taking the money, though she was still working part-time at the Salad Hut so there was no way she was making enough to get by.

  If only he knew.

  Just thinking about Carly dancing for dollars while men leered at her made my recently lowering blood pressure shoot right back into the stratosphere.

  “I mean, she’s eighteen, so I’m sure she’s not that worried about it. She’ll graduate with loans and deal. She’s too busy with her social life to—”

  “What social life?” At my sharp tone, I tried to smile, though I was reasonably certain my face looked as if I’d sucked on something sour. “Uh, you know. Friends and shit?”

  Fox’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t call me out on my odd behavior. Yet. “Yeah. The girl makes friends everywhere she goes. Last week, she brought home a chick she met at the hair salon.”

  A chick. Nothing to think about there.

  I tried another smile, found it felt as foreign as the first. “Good for a young girl to have friends.”

  Very young. Too young. A hair over jailbait.

  I’d keep telling myself any and all variations of that if it helped.

  “There’s some guy she’s seeing off and on too. A dude from the Salad Hut. Seems really clean cut.”

  Somehow I resisted glancing at my tattooed arms, currently dripping with sweat. “Clean cut, huh?” I gulped water.

  “Yeah, a decent kid. Almost wholesome.” Fox bent to pick up the water bottle he’d stashed beside the bench. “Though we know that’s only a front so he can fuck her brains out the minute we turn our backs.”

  I choked. Like see-stars-and-watch-the-little-birdies-circle choked on my water until Fox started to rise from his bench to offer me assistance. Maybe the Heimlich or some shit.

  “You okay, man?”

  “Fine,” I wheezed. I tossed my empty water bottle on the ground and resumed my position on the bench. “Twenty more reps.”

  “Jesus, I thought we were done.” Dutifully, Fox stretched out on the bench.

  “Pussy. Want me to bust your other eyesocket next time we spar?” It was a low blow, bringing up the last fight of Fox’s career where I’d taken advantage of his distraction and fractured his eyesocket. It hadn’t been intentional, exactly, though I’d hated the dude on sight thanks to his cocky grin and rich boy attitude.

  Funny how a few months could change things.

  Sometimes it only took a minute. Less.

  “You wish.” Fox didn’t sound the least bit offended. “I know your moves now, Costas. You wouldn’t take me twice.”

  “So fight me again.”

  I don’t know what made me say it, other than a stupid, egotistical need to get my mind off Carly and wholesome boys who wanted to fuck her. I would’ve rather thought about just about anything but that.

  As the silence lengthened, I realized what a genius idea it was. Not for Fox necessarily, and not for that supposed realness I’d found in our friendship, since I wouldn’t be clueing him into the real story behind the fight.

  But it wouldn’t cause him any harm to come out of retirement for one night, and it would look good in the eyes of the Andrettis and their associates. They’d been wanting Fox to get back in the ring for months, since he was as big of a draw as I was. Big draws at the matches meant more money flowing for their illegal betting schemes.

  The only problem with Fox fighting again was convincing him. Marco and Lo had met with him once and swiftly realized they could more easily budge Mt. Everest than Fox when he’d made up his mind, so they hadn’t even gone as far as making an offer.

  Or putting out a threat, which sometimes was as close to an offer as they got.

  Fox sat up again. “Now why would I do that?”

  I sat up too, after one more longing glance at the weight bar. More talking, but this time, it would be worth it. “Because you want to show me you know my moves and can best them.”

  “I already know that. Don’t need to show squat.”

  Sometimes Fox’s easygoing nature was a pleasure to be around, and a nice contrast to the shitstorm swirling through my head on any given day.

  Other times it was fucking annoying.

  “So it’s a personal thing then. Prove it yourself, not to me.”

  “No need. I’m good in that regard.”

  I gritted my teeth. “We’ll make some noise. Get some attention. Bring down the fucking house.”

  Thoughtfully, he rubbed his smooth jaw. “Yeah, I have missed that. A little.”

  Finally, an opening. It wasn’t much, but I’d take it. “Imagine how many people would show up for the rematch? It’d be like Tyson against—”

  “Which one of us is Tyson?”

  “Neither of us, jackwit. It was a metaphor.”

  “Gee, good thing I got some college learnin’ under my belt.” His aww shucks tone made me laugh in spite of myself.

  “So are you in or not? Stop yanking on my balls and say yes or no.”

  He made me sweat it out. That was also a key component to Fox’s nature. He’d affable you to death, then turn the screws the moment you’d written him off.

  “What’s in it for me?”

  I stared at him balefully. “How about the personal satisfaction of a job well done?”

  “Nah.” He waved that off. “Try again.”

  “I’ll stop sparring with Mia.”

  He appeared to think it over, then shook his head. “Nope. Big dick here, remember? Not concerned. Try harder.”

  I literally didn’t have one single thing.

  After a moment, he sighed. “Okay, here’s the deal. If I fight again, even once, Mia will think I’m harboring a need to get back in the octagon, like she was for all those months after she retired. I so am not. So you have to make the relationship drama worth my—”

  I snapped my fingers. All of a sudden, I knew what would be an effective lure for his supposedly gigantic hook. “I have a spare bedroom that locks that you can use as long as you want. Anytime, day or night. And I’m hardly ever home.”

  “Sold.” His eyes gleamed as he pointed at me. “Son, you just learned to negotiate.”

  Struggling against a smile, I lay back on the bench and reached for the weight bar. Then almost dropped it when he spoke again.

  “Come to dinner on Thursday night and help me tell Mia.”

  I started to say no. Thursday was days away from now. I didn’t know what I’d be dealing with tonight, never mind later next week. And Carly would probably be there, since, oh, she lived in his place and all.

  Unless she was off working or socializing. But since Fox and Mia could burn water, I figured any invites for dinner would result from Carly’s efforts. Chef-in-training and all.

  The image of her in a white chef’s coat—and only a white chef’s coat—popped into my head. And I popped a serious hard-on, while Fox continued yammering away beside me.

  Jesus. The inappropriateness was off the charts.

  “I think I’m busy.”

  “Think you’re busy?” Fox snorted. “Don’t you have a fight on Friday? Another one?�
�

  I had a fight every week that I could manage it, which was why I worked out so much. My part-time job at the Boys and Girls club teaching martial arts to the kids didn’t take up much time because it couldn’t. With my training schedule, I had to practically live in the gym. And if I was going to move up in the Andrettis ranks as fast as I wanted to, I had to keep fighting.

  Until my body fucking gave out, if necessary.

  “Yeah,” I said reluctantly. Something was going on Thursday, but hell if I could remember what.

  Then it came to me. Carly. Always right back to frigging Carly.

  She’d swapped shifts at the club, she’d said, and would now be dancing Thursday night. I hoped she changed her mind about quitting, but since she was as stubborn as two mules—like her older sister and her older sister’s boyfriend—I highly doubted it.

  If I came to dinner, I was going to make sure she didn’t go anywhere near the club that night. I might not be able to control her behavior long-term, but I’d damn well exert my influence where I could.

  Her women’s libber rights weren’t worth her risking her life, whether or not she realized it was on the line yet.

  “Fine.” I wrapped my fingers tighter around the bar. I had a feeling I’d be working out even harder and longer today, just to try to kill my sexual frustration. And frustration, period. “I’ll come to fucking dinner.”

  “Christ, don’t sound so thrilled,” Fox panted between reps.

  I wasn’t thrilled. I also wasn’t going to back out.

  Carly needed my protection, and she was going to get it. One way or another.

  Seven

  All week, I stewed. The subject of my stewing changed from hour to hour, but usually circled between the club and Gio, Gio and the club. Then there was that ridiculous check he’d offered me, and the fact that we’d had sex three incredible times after the back room incident and he hadn’t called.

  All right, that was a lie. He did call, in the middle of the night Sunday night when I was dead asleep. Knowing how crafty he could be, I had to figure that had been his intention.

  The voicemail he’d left had been full of contrition and concern.