~ * ~ * ~
Darcy
I pushed open the glass door that separated the administrative offices from the wide hallway. In contrast to the other areas of the hotel, the carpet was deep and plush. Wasn’t that interesting?
I approached the reception desk and gave my name. I hadn’t even taken a seat when a stocky man about my height came hurrying out of a nearby office. “Miss Winthrop, we’ve been expecting you. Carl. Carl King.” He held out his hand.
I shook his hand. It was slick with sweat, and I had to resist the impulse to wipe it on my skirt. “I’m happy to be here. Miami is a nice change of pace from New York.”
His wide smile showed a set of teeth bleached so white they looked like game tiles. “I like to think Miami has all of the amenities of New York with the added bonus of a good dose of sunshine.”
I smiled, and he escorted me into his office.
The office was lavishly appointed, and I tried hard not to stare. BIW had a decent budget for administration, but it didn’t usually stretch to this outside the corporate headquarters. How long had it been since someone from New York had come down here?
Carl drummed his fingertips on his desktop. “I hope you found your accommodations sufficient for your needs? I had them set aside a suite for you.”
“Yes, the suite is lovely. The view is terrific. It looks like the hotel is busy.” I tried to look Carl in the face, but he had hair plugs in the front that reminded me of the hairline of a doll. My eyes darted around, trying not to stare at his forehead.
Carl leaned back in his chair. “It is. It is. But I have to admit, we’ve had a few small staffing issues.”
No kidding, I thought. “Is that so?”
“Not in administration, of course. But in some of the less-skilled areas. Well, every sunny day those people want to take off for the beach. We have a lot of sunny days in Miami,” he said with resignation.
“I can see where that would be a problem.” I tried to inject sympathy in my voice. However, I wasn’t feeling sympathetic, but rather annoyed. I was of the opinion that if you treated your workers well and paid them a living wage, you attracted good people. The way he referred to his employees as “those people” didn’t indicate a good working relationship.
“I hope you will allow me to take you to dinner this evening. We can discuss the Sand Brawl and of course, get to know each other better.”
From any other colleague, I would have thought nothing of it. It wasn’t uncommon to have business dinners and discuss issues over a nice plate of pasta, but his suggestion had a hint of more that I didn’t care for. “I’m still a bit jet-lagged,” I responded. It was a lie, but the best I could come up with on short notice. After all, who got jet lag between New York and Miami? “I was planning on taking a meal in my room. However, I’d like to discuss the event now, if we could, and then I can work on some ideas tonight.”
Irritation flitted across his face, but it was gone in an instant. “I understand. I’m sure you’ll want to enjoy some beach time while you’re here.”
“Yes. I’ve heard the resort has a lovely beach area.” I didn’t mention that I’d already checked it out.
“We do. We definitely do. However...” He lowered his voice. “I know a beach a few minutes south of here that is even more spectacular.”
Was this guy for real? “I’ll probably have to stick with the beach here at the resort. I think the event will take up a lot of my time.”
“Oh no. The planning is in very good shape. In fact, I don’t really think it was necessary for someone to come down here at all. I’m sure you’ll find we have it all under control. It’s great for you because you can take a little break. An impromptu vacation, as it were.”
“I do hope to find everything in order. This first event will serve as a model for us to use for the others. It’s an important new partnership.” And it was. I didn’t think the financial future of BIW was on the line, but our reputation certainly was. BIW sponsored world-class events, and the Sand Brawl needed to follow suit.
He talked over me, not listening to a word I said. “A young, beautiful woman like yourself, I’m sure you’d like to avail yourself of all Miami has to offer.” He raised one eyebrow slightly. “We have a nice dance club here at the hotel, but I must say, I consider myself an expert on the best places to go in South Beach.”
“Well, perhaps you can suggest a few possibilities.” I didn’t plan to venture out too far. After all, I didn’t have a wingman. Before Brock, I’d been joined at the hip with my best friend, Jo, but Jo had gone and gotten herself engaged. I was happy for her. I truly was. But it changed the nature of things. Zane was her priority now.
“I can do better than that,” Carl declared. “I can take you myself.”
There was no getting around it. I had to nip this in the bud. “Mr. King—”
“Carl, please call me Carl, of course.” He winked.
“Of course. Mr. King. Carl. Forgive me if I’m off base here, but it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to socialize.” I was getting a weird vibe from Carl, and I honestly didn’t think I’d enjoy spending a good deal of time in his company.
A hint of a flush rose in his face, but I guessed it was anger and not embarrassment. “I’m simply trying to be a good host,” he said stiffly. “I’m sorry if you misinterpreted my intentions. I’m a married man, after all.”
Yeah, now you’re married. I wasn’t stupid. “I’m sorry as well. Let’s discuss the arrangements that are in place for the fights?” I wanted to be on top of things and prove to my father that his confidence in me wasn’t misplaced.
“Yes, I’m familiar with all the arrangements, however, I have an important meeting out of the office. Greta Cohen oversees the details of the resort facilities. The tennis courts. The pools. All those things. I’m sure she can provide you with the information you require.”
“That sounds like a good place to start.” He’d given me an out, and I wasn’t going to pass it up. It struck me as a good idea to see how things stood before I spoke to him again.
“She has an office adjacent to the fitness facilities.” He stood and picked up a stack of files off his desk. “So, if you’ll excuse me.”
I grabbed my briefcase as I got to my feet. “I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”
“Of course. Speak with my assistant. She has my schedule.”
What an ass. I didn’t have the power to fire him or make changes, but I reported to people who did. You’d think he’d know that.
Chapter 3
Ford
I hit the bag over and over, throwing my full weight behind each punch. The resistance of the sand jarred my bones like a familiar friend. I wanted this. I had this. A niggling voice deep inside said maybe you don’t.
It had been eighteen months since I’d experienced what everyone believed to be a career-ending injury. I shivered as the memory swept through me. The perfectly placed kick. The snap of bone. The surreal aura that surrounded me as I looked down to see my bone sticking out of my thigh. The second of weightlessness before I crashed to the mat. Screams. Blood. Searing pain.
I pushed the thoughts away—packed them up in a mental box. They were distractions I didn’t need. It happened. It was over. My leg was healed. Was it like before? I didn’t want to admit it, but now and again, the briefest sensation of weakness plagued me. But that wasn’t my big worry. Nope. It was my head. I needed to keep my head on straight, or I’d be out of this fight before I knew what hit me. Actually, I did know what would hit me—a full 185 pounds of muscle.
I could do this. I knew I could do this. I had to. This could be my last shot to come out on top again. If I didn’t kick butt, I’d be relegated to has-been status—a once great fighter that up and comers tried to pound so they could say they’d beaten Ford Cooper.
I wasn’t going out like that. I didn’t plan to go out at all.
~ * ~ * ~
Darcy
The elevator bumped to a stop and I st
epped off. The hall smelled of chlorine. Most of the exercise facilities, including the indoor pool, resided on this level.
As I walked, my heel snagged on the frayed carpet. Unreal. This place practically needed a complete face-lift. I didn’t know what could be fixed in the time remaining before the event, but it had to be addressed.
The resort would be full. The fight would be televised. It was a great opportunity to promote the Miami resort, but not if it looked like crap.
I pushed open the glass double doors to the gym area. A dozen guests were spread throughout the space—on treadmills, stair-climbers, and mats.
Something was wrong here. The equipment should be state-of-the-art, but it clearly wasn’t. I knew BIW had allocated millions to update gym facilities throughout the chain within the last few years. The equipment should be nearly new. The televisions should be good quality flat screens.
I made my way to the office. Through the glass, I saw a trim blonde woman seated at a desk. I knocked on the doorframe and poked my head inside. “Greta?”
She looked up with a smile. “Yes? How can I help you?”
I held out my hand. “Darcy Winthrop. I’m here to help with the Sand Brawl.”
Greta’s smile stiffened, but she shook my hand. “We’ve worked hard to get ready.”
I nodded, searching for the right words. Greta was unhappy to see me. It was understandable. She’d put in the tough work and now I was swooping in at the last minute to pick it apart and, in her mind, maybe even take credit. “I’d love to hear what you’ve done. Don’t see my presence as any reflection on you. I’m here to learn. After all, we have a whole series of these fights.”
Greta’s eyes took my measure, but I couldn’t read her. “We’ve got a separate gym space set up for the participants. Some of them are here in Miami already. I’ll give you a tour.”
“Sure. Sounds great.” I hoped Greta would warm up to me. That would be helpful. People generally liked me. I was confident I would win her over.
I followed Greta back into the open gym area. “I’m surprised by the facilities. As compared to what the other BIW resorts have, I mean.”
Greta’s mouth twisted. “I’ve told Carl we needed to upgrade numerous times. He insists people don’t stay here for the gym facilities.”
That was wrong and apparently, Greta knew it, too. Guests these days expected premium facilities when they paid premium prices, whether they used them or not. “Do many guests use the gym?”
Greta stopped and eyed me with a wary gaze. “I have utilization figures if you need to see them.”
I shook my head. “Not now, but I might follow up with you later.”
Greta gave a curt nod and swept out into the hallway. “We cleared out some storage to set up a separate area for the fighters. It’s a big space. There are a couple sparring rings, bags, weights, and other equipment. The things that were requested.”
“That’s great. Did you have any trouble with the set up?” I’d read the contract myself. It was very specific about the training gym requirements.
“Carl bitched about the money, but it had to be done. He wanted me to pull things from the guest facilities, but these guys expect a properly equipped place. I’m hoping the equipment can be transferred to the main gym later for guest use.”
“That’s a good idea.” It was one possibility. I’d been thinking of another. It might be prudent to keep a well-equipped gym for athletes and VIPs. It would be an amenity to attract more events. I’d pitch it later.
Greta pushed open a nondescript door labeled “Employees Only.” Music blasted out into the hall. I saw Greta’s lips move, but I had no idea what she said.
She waved me inside and the door shut behind us. My eyes followed her hand as she pointed out what she must have thought were the highlights.
The room was large with high ceilings. Industrial light fixtures glowed unevenly across the space, creating areas of shadow. There was a man reclined on a weight bench being spotted by another man in loose-fitting sweats. Two others grappled on a wide expanse of mat.
We walked farther into the space and a flurry of movement caught my eye. A fighter laid into a hanging bag, punching repeatedly. His skin gleamed with sweat, and muscles bunched under the surface of his skin. His feet danced, left to right, forward and back. There was a raw, primal beauty about him.
He bumped the bag with his forehead and stepped back, turning. It was the guy from the lobby. I’d recognize those abs anywhere. He bounced his gloves together.
Thankfully, someone killed the music. My ears rang.
Greta raised a hand. “Hey Ford. How’s it going?”
Ford. It suited him. Simple. Classic.
He jerked his chin up. “It’s going. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Darcy Winthrop. Her father owns the resort.”
Great. Not exactly the introduction I was looking for. “I’m in Events. I’m here to help with the Sand Brawl.”
Ford crossed his arms. “Huh. Well, one thing that would be helpful is having actual tickets for sale.”
I blinked. “Tickets aren’t on sale yet?” My mind shuffled through the possibilities, and none of them were good.
Greta frowned. “There’s still construction in the arena. The seating hasn’t been finalized.”
Whoa. Contrary to Carl King’s assurances, unavailable tickets and an unfinished arena constituted huge problems. The tickets should have been on sale weeks ago.
“A little advertising wouldn’t hurt, either,” Ford added.
My eyes shot to Greta.
She coughed. “Carl wants to do a big push when the tickets go on sale. That’s what he told me.”
Holy shit. The event was less than a month away. No arena. No tickets. No advertising? This was the first in a six-fight series. If it flopped, the contract could be canceled. I wondered where the fight organization was during all this.
I turned to Greta. “Can you show me the arena?”
“Of course.”
I looked at Ford, trying not to gawk. “It was nice to meet you.”
He nodded and flashed a smile. “Nice to meet you, too.”
~ * ~ * ~
Ford
I watched her walk away, and I couldn’t help but admire her ass. It was a fine one. She acted like she had a brain in that beautiful head, too.
I shook my head. The event was a mess. A huge mess, and they sent down Daddy’s girl to try to straighten it out. No way. This shit was important to me. If she had the power to do something, though, I’d let her know exactly what needed to be done.
I didn’t want to get in the cage in front of an empty arena for the biggest fight of my career.
“Yo, dude. Let’s go.” Jed punched me lightly on the back of my shoulder.
I nodded and jogged to the ring. I climbed inside the ropes and bounced on the balls of my feet.
“Leg good?” Jed asked.
“Yeah, it’s been fine.” It wasn’t completely true, but it was mostly true. I relived the moment again. The moment I’d felt my career slipping away. I’d known it was bad right off, but I’d pretended otherwise. That pretense had gotten me through a lot of hard moments during my recovery.
Jed poked me in the chin, and the image evaporated. I hated thinking about that shit.
~ * ~ * ~
Darcy
Greta unlocked the main door to the arena and we entered the space. I couldn’t make out anything in the silent darkness.
“I’ll get the lights,” Greta said.
She walked away, leaving me in the aisle. The carpet muffled her footsteps. I took a few tentative steps, and the floor sloped under my feet. I reached out in front of me. I dropped my arm to my side and decided I needed to stay put. The last thing I needed was to fall and be injured.
It wasn’t more than a couple minutes before the lights started popping on, highlighting the cage in the center. Seats tiered up in every direction with one glaring exception—a large section on the far side
. I was no construction expert, but it made me wonder what else wasn’t complete.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Greta said, coming up behind me.
“A whole section of seating is missing.” No seats, no tickets, no fans. I was looking at lost revenue.
“That’s true, but part of that area is going to be set up for the media and VIPs. The cage area is complete. The lighting looks good.”
I headed down toward the center, treading carefully. Bolts and bits of debris littered the floor. “Where’s the contractor?”
Greta walked beside me. “Off the job.”
I stopped and swung toward her. “Off the job? What do you mean?”
Greta wrung her hands a moment and then responded, “There’s a payment pending.”
“Let me make sure I understand. The contractor didn’t finish because he hasn’t been paid?”
Greta sighed, and her eyes didn’t meet mine. “I don’t know the details. That’s what the job foreman mentioned.”
“Greta, what is going on here?” I looked out over the arena and back to her. “Why hasn’t the contractor been paid? Why isn’t the arena ready? Why no tickets? I realize Carl can’t do it all. Even you can’t do it all. Is anyone else working on this?”
“I’ve done everything Carl asked me to do. The rest he’s overseen himself.” Greta’s voice and posture were stiff.
I rubbed my temples with my fingers. I had a monster headache coming on. “What else do I need to know?”
“I want this event to go well. I need my job.” Greta’s voice cracked, showing the first hint of emotion.
“I’m not trying to fire anybody. I’m trying to figure out what we need to do and where things got off track. We don’t have time to fool around. This thing is going to crash and burn if we don’t get moving.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do.”
I took a deep breath, trying to still my mind. Assigning blame wasn’t going to get us anywhere. “Okay, who usually deals with tickets and advertising for the events?”
“If it’s a sports event, usually me. If it’s a concert, then Callie. She manages the dance club, too.”
This Round for Love Page 2
