unDefeated

by J.C. Valentine

  She wasn’t complaining.

  Her eyes were immediately drawn to the intricate dragon tattoo extending from the top of his shoulder down to his elbow. It was fierce, with vacant eyes and claws that seemed to grab on to his flesh. She had to force herself to turn away to keep from reaching out to touch it.

  Hearing her approach, Spencer turned and his gaze skated over her appreciatively, pausing on the red-soled black heels that added a few inches to her height. “Damn, girl.”

  Her stomach flipped at the compliment. Smirking, she reached past him to dig in the refrigerator for the lunchmeat. “Thanks.”

  “Please tell me they have bodyguards there; otherwise, you’re about to gain yourself an escort.”

  She rolled her eyes, ignoring the nervous flutter in her stomach in response to his possessiveness. “Yes, they have bodyguards.”

  “Good, because I have stuff to take care of tonight and I don’t need to be worried about going to jail for kicking some grabby motherfucker’s ass.”

  The mention of stuff froze her insides. She hoped he wasn’t planning to go out and get into trouble.

  When she realized what she was doing, she shook the thought free. Spencer was showing progress. Now, she just had to have a little faith in him.

  “Seriously?” Turning, Olivia leveled him with a look. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re talking about getting into a fight with someone for touching me when we aren’t even together.”

  His pierced brow arched up. “First of all, yes, I do hear myself, and I meant what I said. I would kick someone’s ass if they so much as laid a finger on you without permission.” He braced his arms on either side of her, bracketing her in. “And second,” he said with a dangerous edge as he crowded her against the counter, “it doesn’t matter to me if we have an official title or not—you’re mine, Liv. So no more talk of us not being together bullshit. It’s starting to hurt my feelings.”

  Surprised, her mouth gaped open, her thoughts skidding to a halt. With Spencer standing so close, the heat from his body seeping into hers, she couldn’t think straight. “I thought you were done.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Done with what? You? Never.”

  Confusion rolled through her as she recalled all the times he’d openly rejected her by simply not showing up. Hell, she’d gone on a date, and he hadn’t made a peep. “I visited you. Every week,” she said, her voice raspy with emotion. “You never came.”

  “I was trying to protect you.” Cupping the back of her head, he pulled her against his chest and pressed his lips to her temple. “I thought if I stayed away, gave you space, you could realize that you were better off without me. But you kept coming anyway.”

  What was he saying? Olivia wanted to slap him for his ignorance. “I would never abandon you,” she said fiercely. Without thinking, her arms went around him, holding on tight.

  “I’m beginning to see that.”

  ***

  Olivia slayed him.

  As Spencer trudged down the sidewalk, the cool near-summer wind whipping over his thin leather jacket, he hunched over, turning his face down and away to avoid the worst of it. Watching her walk out the door, dressed like something straight out of a wet dream, was harder than hell. It had taken all of his willpower to keep from pulling her back inside and barricading the door.

  No one should see her like that but him. Yeah, he was a possessive bastard, but he wasn’t about to apologize for it.

  Olivia didn’t understand the hold she had on him. With her, he wasn’t the same person everyone knew. With her, he could be himself. She thought he was changing, but that wasn’t true. He was the same man he’d always been. The only thing going to that treatment center had accomplished was helping to strip away the false layers, revealing the truth of who he was beneath it all.

  Spencer made a lot of mistakes. He couldn’t change any of it. It damaged his self-esteem and every single relationship he’d ever had, but as he stood in front of Knockout and stared up at the red and orange brick façade, he wondered if it would be possible to get past any of that.

  He’d done a lot of wrong. Jamison had borne the brunt of it, ruining his hands and career in the process. Would he be able to see that Spencer was making an effort? Would he see the changes he’d already made?

  Would he even care?

  Placing bets and staring down loan sharks would put the fear of God into a normal person, but pulling open the solid glass door just about undid him. Spencer almost preferred the icy fear of knowing he was moments away from a beat down rather than look his best friend in the eyes and see the confirmation that there was nothing left for him—no chance to make amends.

  The sound of grunts, whirring of machinery, and hard slap of sweaty bodies hitting mats was loud enough to drown out the heavy hitting beats of metal music pulsing through the hidden speakers.

  Jami had taken over the business from his former coach and pseudo father, Don. Together, they ran the gym and, with Jami’s championship behind him, they’d made it the premier spot for anyone who aspired to be in the ring professionally.

  To his right was the sign-in desk, an undersized block of wood backed by a wall covered with photographs of past fighters who’d trained there. Operating the single computer was Alyson, Jami’s fiancée and soon-to-be mother of their first child.

  She was talking to an older woman with red hair, so she hadn’t noticed him come in yet. His gaze wandered to his left, taking in the expansive room. The gym was one large open space comprised of stations whose purposes were defined by their equipment. Immediately in front of him was open floor space covered in thick, durable blue mats like those he remembered in high school gym class. Two men sparred there, their bodies coiled around each other as they attempted to pin the other down.

  Beyond that, in the far left corner, was a large platform lined with heavy rope—a boxing ring. There Jami had put in hundreds of hours practicing for his matches, fine tuning his moves. He wasn’t there now, but Don was. The gray head and thickly muscled shoulders gave him away.

  The area that housed the weights and aerobic machinery was packed. Mostly men worked out here, but there were a few women, too.

  “Spencer?” Alyson’s voice jerked his attention back. “What are you doing here?”

  He met her unusual jade green eyes and gave her a friendly smile. She’d never liked him. Or if she had at one time, he’d royally screwed that up. Between how he’d hurt her friend and destroyed her fiancé, he didn’t figure there was any help for that. Too much water under the bridge.

  “Hey, Ally.” He approached the desk, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. “Is Jami around? I’d like to talk to him.”

  “Uh, yeah.” She hesitated. “I’m not sure he’s ready to see you right now.”

  Spencer looked away, unable to stand the pity in her eyes. “That’s why I need to talk to him.” If he could just explain where his head was at, maybe that would be enough. It could be a start.

  Her mouth set it a grim line. “Actually, Spencer, I don’t want you to see him right now.” Coming around the desk, she twisted her hands over her belly. Spencer couldn’t help staring. The last time he’d seen her that bump wasn’t there. Now, it was impossible to deny that Jamison’s life was heading in a new direction.

  “It’s nothing against you,” Alyson continued on. “Jami’s just gotten to a good place, and I feel like if he gets into this right now, it could set him back.”

  “I can understand your concern, Ally,” he said patiently, “but this is between me and him. We’ve known each other a long time. You of all people should be able to understand the importance of not leaving things unsaid.”

  Sighing deeply, he could see that she wasn’t swayed. She wasn’t going to let him see Jami, and while he respected her desire to protect him, it still rankled.

  Trying to keep his voice level, Spencer said, “Look, Ally—” But he didn’t get to finish the sentence.

  “What the hell are you doin
g here?”

  Ally’s head shot up and worry soaked her features. Spencer twisted around, seeing Jami’s fierce dark eyes first. Distance and a hell of a lot of animosity reflected back at him, causing his insides to shrink back in fear and shame.

  “Jami, I’m sorry,” Ally pleaded, brushing past Spencer to meet her fiancé halfway. He stopped in his tracks, and she looked up at him, placing her hand over his heart. “I was just telling him it would be best if he left. I can deal with him.”

  Deal with him? Damn, but that stung. Spencer swallowed past a tight ball of emotion as he watched his friend bend down and peck his woman on the mouth. The look he gave her was full of patience and love. So much love.

  “It’s fine, sweet cheeks, I’ll deal with this.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He rubbed his palms down her arms, grasping her hands at the end. “Positive. You look tired. Why don’t you go take your lunch? I’ll meet up with you when I’m finished here.”

  A sweet smile stole across her face, and Ally reached up, balancing on her toes to kiss him quick on the mouth. “It’s a date.”

  Spencer watched her leave, then drew in a deep breath as Jami’s hardened gaze found his. “You have five minutes.”

  Spencer followed Jami to the office located at the rear of the building. Irritation radiated off him as he threw open the door. Don, Jami’s former coach and mentor, glanced up as he barged in and lifted a questioning brow.

  “I need the room,” Jami barked.

  The old man took one look at Spencer as he eased into the cramped space and lifted his weathered body from the chair. Clapping his hand on Jami’s shoulder, he gave him his silent support. His cold, steel gray eyes locked with Spencer’s as he brushed by him, closing the door on the way out.

  Dropping down in the chair Don had just vacated, Jami indicated the chair across from the desk with a wave of his hand. “Clock is ticking. Say what you have to say.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Spencer sat down. “I need to apologize for the way I left things,” he began. “What I did, the position I put you in, was wrong on so many levels. But I want you to know I’m trying to make it right.”

  Jami’s dark eyes blazed with fury. “You think coming in here and stressing my pregnant fiancé out is the way to do that?”

  “That wasn’t my intent,” Spencer said, his forehead creasing on a frown. He used to ignore Jami’s hotheadedness but now that their connection was broken, he didn’t know what to do with it.

  “That’s the problem with you, Spence. Nothing is ever your intent. You just barrel through life doing whatever the hell pleases you, damn the consequences.”

  “I can’t change the past. I came here to tell you that I’m trying to be better than I was yesterday. I want to make things right.”

  “You know what would make things right?” Jami snarled. “If I could get back what I worked for fucking years to accomplish. Can you make that happen? Can you give me back my life?”

  Spencer opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, but Jami cut him off before he could utter a word.

  “No, you can’t. You come in here spouting useless apologies and yeah, that’s great that you’ve come such a long way. Brav-o,” he said scathingly. “I’m glad you’ve finally pulled your head out of your ass long enough to realize you’re not the only person in the world. But it’s all just a little too late.”

  “I understand,” Spencer started only to be cut off again.

  “You don’t understand shit! I just had my last surgery three weeks ago, and do you know what they told me? This is as good as it gets.” Holding up his hands, Jami squeezed them into fists, only his fingers didn’t quite curl all the way in.

  As someone who’d spent a lot of time by Jami’s side, Spencer knew how devastating that was for him. It served as a stark reminder of all the damage he’d caused.

  “I dug your ass out of the fire one too many times, and do you know what it cost me? My career, my livelihood, and that’s not even the worst of it. Do you know how I spend my nights? Lying awake at night wondering if I’ll be able to hold my kid when he’s born.”

  “Jami, I—”

  “I swear to fucking God, if you say you’re sorry, I will leap over this desk and punch your face down your throat. We’ve all got problems, Spence, and I hope like hell you’ve gotten past the worst of yours, but I can’t be your friend right now. It’s asking too much.”

  “You don’t have to be. I just wanted you to know where I stand,” Spencer said, hoping Jami could hear the sincerity in his voice. “I need you to know you’re one of the most important people in my life and even though I don’t expect you to forgive me, I hope one day you can.”

  Jami’s eyes shown with emotion as he stared back at Spencer. “I hope so, too, man.” A beat of silence stretched out between them. Then, with a heavy sigh, Jami scrubbed his hands down his face and pointed toward the door. “You’re five minutes are up.”

  With a subtle nod, Spencer stood. There was still so much he had left to say, but Jami was a man of his word, and if Spencer pushed too hard now, he’d be leaving with bruises. So, without looking back, Spencer walked out the door.

  TEN

  “Two Cokes and a vodka double. Anything else for you gentlemen today?” It was closing in on midnight, and Olivia was rung out. She needed bed and a foot rub, not necessarily in that order.

  “No, thanks. We’re good here.” The man with the goatee and slight southern accent smiled, revealing charmingly crooked teeth, and winked at her.

  “Well, alright then. Give me a holler if you need a refill. I’m Liv,” she reminded them, pointing at the tag pinned over her left breast. Flirtation was the key to good tips, she’d found. If she was sweet and friendly with just a hint of sass, the cash became a little more fluid.

  Tucking her empty tray behind the counter, she began wiping down the bar.

  “I hate Thursdays.” Martina, a tall girl with a fall of jet-black/blue hair and skin the color of caramel, who’d taken Andrea’s place when she’d left to pursue a career in law¸ slid behind the bar. Bending down, she retrieved four glasses and began filling them with Guinness from the tap.

  “It’s slow,” Olivia agreed. Evenings usually brought in a fresh crowd, but just before the weekend hit, the customer turnout often fell to a two-to-one ratio with the bartenders. Between them, she and Martina had five customers, and that wasn’t factoring in the other two servers on the floor.

  “No kidding. It’s practically the apocalypse in here. How am I supposed to pay my tuition with these shit tips?” Reaching into her apron, Martina pulled out a wad of crumpled bills—mostly ones.

  “I hear you.” It’s why Olivia had taken on a second job. She used to love working the bar. The music and dancing gave her a thrill and always helped to elevate her mood. But ever since La Noche—a trendy new nightclub—opened down the block, business had been down.

  Not wanting to leave, but unable to make it on the measly salary, she’d pursued beauty school and used her license to rent a space in a salon downtown. She loved both jobs¸ but it was difficult to balance it all.

  Jeremy appeared around the corner and dropped down on one of the barstools across from them. He looked tired. “How’s it going, ladies?”

  “Slow and steady,” Martina grumbled. “You know what you need? A disco ball and a fog machine. A new track record, too. Something a little more alive.”

  “You don’t like my tunes?” Jeremy asked, a look of amusement taking over his features.

  “AC/DC is not dance music.” Martina rolled her eyes.

  Olivia laughed. “Can I get you anything to drink while I’m back here?”

  “Sure. How about a cosmo with a couple cherries on the side.”

  Olivia lifted her brow as she set out a fresh glass.

  “I always knew you were queer,” Martina said with a playful smile. “Why don’t you order a scotch? Something that’ll put hair on your chest!”

  Tuggin
g down the top of his sea green t-shirt, he revealed a tuft of coarse brown hair. “Do I look like I need more hair on my chest? I like the fruity drinks,” he said definitively, taking the glass Olivia slid across the counter and gulping down half of it.

  Martina pointed at him with a zebra striped nail. “No wonder you’re still single. Seriously, Jeremy, wax that shit.”

  He pouted as she strode off to check on her table. “It’s not that bad.” He looked to Olivia for confirmation. “Right? Women like chest hair.”

  She shrugged. “Some women like chest hair. When you find your woman, she’ll like yours.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Liv. You just earned yourself a bonus.” Finishing off his drink, he stood. “Listen, it’s slow and it looks like your table is leaving.” She looked up to see her bearded customer drop a few bills on the table. “Why don’t you head home for the night? Martina and I will close up.”

  Jeremy had opened the bar with a small inheritance check when he was eighteen. She knew it was killing him to see it slipping away from him. She wished there was something she could do to help, but she didn’t know anything about running a business.

  Sticking some glasses in the dishwasher, she hung up her apron. “Thanks, Jeremy.” Looking on the bright side, she figured at least she would get a couple extra hours of sleep tonight.

  “Drive safe.”

  With a small nod, she signed out and headed home. What she expected to be a quiet evening rapidly turned into a what-the-eff moment when she walked through the front door to find a mass of people in her living room. Music pounded through the limited space, and the pungent smell of tobacco and alcohol permeated the air.

  She. Was. Pissed.

  Gritting her teeth, Olivia shoved her way through the door, uncaring when she knocked into a couple standing behind it. Weaving an angry path through the throng, she made her way through the apartment, visually combing each room as she went.

  The place was a wreck. Everything Spencer had done had been undone. She didn’t recognize a single face in the crowd, which only piqued her anger more. In the bathroom, she found a girl on her knees in front of a scrawny, tattooed guy. His black eyes were vacant and glassy when he noticed her standing there, and a slow smile inched across his face. He held out his hand, beckoning her to join them.