Luke (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel Book 8)

by Lane Hart

  “Thanks,” I tell him, relieved to be getting anything that could point me in the direction of a payday. “I owe you one,” I say after I type the name and number he reads out into my phone.

  “Hope I don’t regret it. Just watch your back, trust no one, and kick ass,” he says, offering me a fist bump that I hit. “Too bad you’re not smaller, or the IFC would probably hook you up.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not willing to lose the muscle mass I’ve built up to be some scrawny ass fighter,” I tell him.

  “Well, good luck and keep me updated,” he says before he turns around and climbs in Sally, her top down because it’s another hot, beautiful, sunny day in Carolina.

  “Thanks, Mace. See ya,” I tell him before I climb into my own Mustang and call up Vaughan.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Megan

  When I’m leaving Green Hope High, I get a text from Luke that he’s already picked up Lennox from daycare and is at the park near our house with him. So, instead of heading home, I drive over to the park to join them.

  Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life, having to face Luke and tell him the truth, knowing he would hate me for it. Then last night, just when it seemed like we were able to at least be cordial, he snapped at me and reminded me how upset he truly is.

  He’s entitled to those feelings. I deserve nothing less than for him to loathe me for keeping his son away from him. With one decision, I took so much from Luke. Now I can’t help but wonder how things could have been if I had contacted him as soon as I found out I was pregnant. Would he have moved out to Phoenix? Or would his family have asked me to move back here to Cary? I don’t think I was ready to come back until recently. Being so close to my parents who abandoned me would’ve hurt. And the pain from Eli’s death and deception was too intense when everything in this town reminded me of him.

  Despite my anger at Eli, I missed him. Part of me wanted to think that if not for the accident, maybe we could have still been together. There’s only one other person alive who could tell me for sure how serious their relationship was, and I have no plans to talk to Nathan Lewis anytime soon.

  Parking next to Luke’s Mustang, I get out and start toward the playground equipment where I believe I spot Lennox’s blond halo of hair sliding down the slide and running around with some other kids his age.

  When I find Luke in his orange backward baseball cap, I’m not prepared for the stab of jealousy that hits me, seeing him sitting on one of the benches next to a pretty woman with long, mahogany hair and talking to her.

  Since their backs are to me, I walk up behind them close enough to hear their conversation and eavesdrop.

  “Is that your son?” the woman asks.

  Luke hesitates for several moments before he responds. “Yeah, he is,” he answers, and I can hear his pride and the smile on his face when he tells her, “He just turned three, and his name’s Lennox.”

  “Aww. That’s my son, Bryson. He’ll be three next week,” she tells him, pointing out the short little brown-haired kid running around with Lennox. Even though they’re only a few weeks apart in age, Lennox towers over him.

  “Your son must take after you,” the woman says.

  “He does,” Luke agrees proudly.

  This is how it should always be, Luke being able to talk about his son rather than his nephew. There’s still one possible way to make that happen, but only if Luke can forgive me.

  “Hey,” I say to the couple as I walk around to the front of the bench and plop down right between them. “I thought you might still be here.”

  “Yeah,” Luke replies, leaning up to look at her on the other side of me. “I was just talking to Bryson’s mom…”

  “Kathryn,” the woman fills in and reaches a hand out for Luke to shake.

  “Luke,” he replies. “Nice to meet you. This is Lennox’s mother, Megan. I just found out yesterday that he’s my son and not my nephew. Oh, and she kept him from me his entire life. How crazy is that, right?”

  “Luke,” I beg, asking him to not do this in front of a total stranger, one who likely lives in or near my new neighborhood. And I’m guessing that his opinion of me hasn’t improved overnight as I prayed it would.

  “What?” Luke asks. “I have to keep it a secret from everyone in my life, even my best friend, so why can’t I at least vent to random people?”

  “It was nice meeting you,” the woman, Kathryn, says before she thankfully flees the awkward scene.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “But there’s still a way for you to be his father, though, and no one would have to know the truth.”

  “How’s that?” he asks. “Have you go back in time and make better decisions?”

  “I’m serious, Luke.”

  “Tell me how on earth I can be his father without my mom learning the truth, because if there’s a way, sign me right up,” he mutters.

  “You could, I mean, we could get married,” I reply hesitantly, fearing his reaction.

  “Ha!” Luke barks out a laugh before he gets to his feet, moving further away from me. “What a fustercluck that would be, marrying the woman who hid my son from me, lied to him, telling him his father is dead. And you think after all that I should bind myself to you for eternity?” he says before turning his back to me. “Yeah, we’ll do that Meg, the day I forgive you, which will only happen when time traveling actually exists and you go back in time to fix this shit.”

  “We could divorce after the adoption is legal,” I offer.

  “Nice. Marriage, with a guarantee of divorce. How could I possibly say no?” he throws the words back at me. “I’m getting Lennox and taking him home. Do you trust me enough to at least do that with my nephew?”

  “Fine,” I agree, trying not to let my emotions come pouring down my face.

  When Luke goes over and lifts Lennox in his arms, I don’t call out to my son or draw attention to myself. I let him have a few minutes alone with his father, even if he doesn’t realize it.

  …

  Luke

  After another night of crashing on Meg’s couch, I get up to help dress Lennox and fix him breakfast. As soon as he’s finished, Meg ushers him out the door to take him to daycare before heading to work.

  Once I get a shower, I drive over to the address Mace’s contact, Vaughan Brennon, gave me for my “try out.” I’m not really sure what that entails, but I think I’m ready. And I can’t say I’m all that surprised when I end up at a rundown warehouse in the shady part of town near the old railroad tracks.

  What used to be garage doors for delivery trucks are all raised, so I park and walk through one, looking around the concrete space. Compared to the new upgrades Jude and Linc have made at Havoc, this place looks like the shithole gym Rocky Balboa trained in from the seventies, without a single renovation in over forty years.

  There are a few guys on some weight-lifting equipment that’s a mix and match set with split leather benches, stuffing leaking out. The boxing ring only has two ropes instead of three going around it, and the sole punching bag looks like it’s gonna spill sand soon thanks to the punishment a big, shirtless, tatted up dude is giving it.

  “You must be Luke,” an older guy in ratty sweats with a receding brown hairline says as he approaches me.

  This is the moment to bail if I’m going to. But then I remember the cost of just Lennox’s daycare, so I square my shoulders before holding out my palm.

  “Yeah, Luke Campbell. You must be Vaughan,” I say as the man shakes my hand.

  “Vaughan Brennon. Nice to meet ya,” he says with a southern drawl. “So I’m sure Havoc has much better duds than this place, yeah?”

  “Right,” I agree with a smile as I glance around the fighters working out in the open space. “I’m not looking for a place to train, though; I’m just looking for some fights.”

  “Your call, kid,” he replies with a shrug. “Probably best since these are the guys you’ll eventually fight.”

  Oh shit.

>   The guys in here all remind me of Mace and Senn, light heavyweights, over two hundred pounds at least, while I’m only a buck seventy-five after I eat like a ravenous bear for weeks without training.

  “Wh-what weight class will I be fighting at?” I ask Vaughan.

  “We don’t really have weight classes per se,” he answers, which isn’t very reassuring. “With your rich boy trainin’, I bet you can take down most of my guys in a fair fight.”

  There’s something about the way he says “fair fight” that begins to worry me.

  “All right, so if you’re ready, I wanna see what you’ve got. Let’s put ya in the ring with Cain,” he tells me, pointing over to the tatted dude killing the punching bag before slapping me forward on my back.

  Great. Not only does the other guy look like he could tear a man’s head off with his bare hands, but he’s named after the evil fucker from the Bible who killed his own brother.

  “You’re not gonna pussy out, are ya?” Vaughan asks me, followed by a chuckle.

  “Fuck, no,” I tell him, almost convincing myself. Sure the guy is big and scary, but I have years of professional training behind me while all he probably has is his anger and rage. I’ll be fine.

  Probably.

  Maybe.

  “Cain!” Vaughan yells to interrupt the man’s fists of fury. When he stops and faces us straight on, his dark eyes narrow as he sizes me up, and then his nostrils flare like a bull right before it charges. “Ya up for a round with our fresh meat?” Vaughan asks, which doesn’t make me feel very self-assured.

  A grunt is the titan’s only response.

  “My, um, my gloves, mouthpiece, and cup are out in the car,” I tell Vaughan, hoping to escape and try to find my balls while I’m digging through my trunk.

  “Don’t need ’em,” is his response. “We’ve got some tape. That’s all we use here.”

  “Right,” I mutter.

  No gloves or mouthpieces. Awesome. I’ve always wanted to break my hands on another man’s face while losing a few teeth. That’s what ice and dentists are for, right?

  Nothing else to be done now, I pull my tee over my head, one less item the other man can use to choke me to death, and then I warm up with a few stretches and shadow boxing moves. By the time I tape my fists up and ease through the boxing ring’s two ropes, Cain is ready and waiting. The rest of the guys stop what they’re doing to gather around and watch me get pummeled.

  “One three-minute round just to show me what you’re made of, newbie. Try not to get your brains knocked out of your skull. I don’t want to have to deal with all the rich pricks at Havoc comin’ down here and causin’ problems,” Vaughan raises his voice to announce. I hear the other fighters practically spitting at me now that they know where I train, and I’m guessing they think we’re all a bunch of pussies with our padded gloves and fancy facility.

  Well then, I guess it’s time for me to show them what us Havoc boys are really made of.

  “On my signal,” Vaughan says as the other fighter and I wait, bouncing on the balls of our feet in opposite corners, steam practically coming out of his ears. “Ready, set, fight!” he yells.

  The next thing I know, I take a step forward, and there’s a sneaker smacking against my forehead, putting me on my ass.

  What the fuck?

  We’re in a boxing ring, with shoes on, so I wrongly assumed we were only using our fists to hit each other. My bad. I should’ve known better.

  The observers all snicker as I get back to my feet, certain I’m gonna have a tread mark on my forehead after that.

  “Did I forget to tell ya the rules?” Vaughan calls out from the other side of the rope, but I don’t take my eyes off my opponent, who is lunging at me like a snake and quickly dancing away before I can swing at him. “There are no rules in our big boy fights. Groin shots are generally frowned upon, though, but the crowd loves to see a well-timed headbutt or eye poke.”

  Jesus!

  Fighting without rules that protect a fighter’s soft spots is barbaric. At least I’ve already fathered a child if I were to get pounded in the nuts. Which reminds me of why I’m here…

  Steeling my spine, I take a deep breath, and then I go on the offensive, swinging my fists at the other man’s face even if he dodges them, trying to distract him so I can…yep, sweep his legs out from under him when he least expects it.

  This time it’s Cain who lands on his ass. And I don’t give him a chance to get up like he did me while he was peacocking. I fall on top of him and land a right fist to the left side of his face before he knows what hit him. And boy does that piss the dude off. He pushes me off of him so hard I roll backward.

  By the time I compose myself, Cain’s on his feet again and advancing on me. I duck and dodge his flailing fists that are nothing but a pissed off man’s fury, lacking any actual training. It’s simple things, like how our coaches would tell me to try to get a hit in but to always put my hands in front of my face to protect myself as soon as it lands. Cain doesn’t protect his face at all, so my left jab lands on his forehead, stunning him long enough for my right fist to nail him in the chin. He staggers backward in confusion, and I lunge for him before he can realize what he did wrong, landing blow after blow to his body until his knees go weak. I barely hear Vaughan calling time since I have Cain on the ropes, right where I want him. Someone grabs my arm that’s poised and ready to strike and pulls me backward before I can land another hit to his face.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, rich boy,” the voice I recognize as Vaughan’s says to me as he drags me to the corner. “Time’s up and I’ve seen enough. Cain, get to the locker room and clean up! You should be ashamed of yourself for lettin’ this lightweight Havoc kid get the best of you.”

  “I’m a welterweight!” I argue, wiping the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “Same difference,” Vaughan mutters, when actually it’s a fifteen-pound difference between the two weight classes. And I haven’t weighed myself in a while, so I may be in between at the moment. I need to stock up on some protein shakes and ask Senn and Mace to show me how they buffed up.

  “Give me another round! I’ll murder the bastard!” Cain yells, spitting blood on the canvas as two guys try to drag him out of the ring.

  “Of course ya would!” Vaughan tells him, which causes me to scoff indignantly. “But when I told Mario about the kid, he said if he’s any good, he wants him to earn him some cash, so I need him alive.”

  “He’s dead!” Cain yells as they drag him away. His threats aren’t nearly as scary now that I know I can kick his ass.

  “Let’s go. I’ll walk ya out,” Vaughan says to me with a slap on my back. I climb out of the ring and pick up my shirt, throwing it over my shoulder and wishing I had some water right about now. But really, I’m just ready to get the fuck out of dodge. I can pick up a Gatorade from a convenience store on the way home.

  At my car, Vaughan says, “Nice ride. What exactly do ya need money for if ya drive a new car like this?”

  “This was a gift, from my parents,” I explain to him. “I need to earn money on my own.” While I considered selling my Mustang and buying something cheaper, in the end I worried that some used piece of shit car just wouldn’t be safe, which is a necessity now that Lennox rides with me.

  “Well, I can give you a fight this Thursday night. After what the guys just witnessed, I’m sure word is already spreading on the street about the Havoc fighter who made an ass out of Cain,” he says with a snicker.

  “Great, thank you,” I tell him. “Is Cain who I’ll be fighting Thursday?” I ask.

  “Nah, we’ve got to let the desire for a rematch build up, spark interest first,” he tells me. “Thursday you’re gonna fight Ivan Rivers. The kid’s not much bigger than you and only eighteen.”

  “Sounds like an easy fight,” I tell him with a chuckle.

  “You’re gonna get knocked out in the beginnin’ of the second round,” Vaughan says to me with a straight face
.

  “What the fuck?” I ask. “You want me to lose?!?” I exclaim.

  “Lower ya voice,” he warns, taking a step closer. “This is a business deal. You, me and Mario are the only ones who know that. The guys who just saw ya fight Cain will hype ya up. Make ya look unbeatable. You’re gonna go out and fight hard in the first round but keep Ivan conscious. Then, when ya go down in the second round and don’t get back up, it will be a surprise to everyone. Mario will make twice as much on the chumps who all bet on ya. I get a nice cut, and you get to walk away with three grand.”

  “Three grand to get knocked out?” I scoff. “I don’t think so.”

  Who would lose on purpose like that for a little money? I have dignity and self-respect, not to mention a reputation to uphold…

  “Well then, it was nice meetin’ ya, kid. Tell Mace I said hello and not to let the rich boys turn him soft,” he says with a pat to my shoulder before turning and walking away.

  Shit.

  “That’s it?” I call out. “Take it or leave it?”

  “Yep,” Vaughan replies without turning around. “Either ya earn the money or keep clingin’ to your pride.”

  If I don’t take this fight, how long will it take me to wait tables or…or wash cars to earn three thousand dollars? Weeks? Probably months of hard labor, long hours and low wages? I need that money now to prove to myself and to Meg and my father that they’re wrong and that I can take care of my son.

  “Fine!” I shout. “Text me the time and address.”

  “Pleasure doin’ business with ya,” Vaughan looks over his shoulder and says. “And if word gets out about what we just discussed, well, don’t say I didn’t warn ya!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Megan

  After Lennox crashes out and we put him to bed, Luke takes a shower in the guest bathroom and changes into a pair of gray sweats with no shirt. I don’t have much experience with torture techniques, but seeing his damp chest and six pack fully exposed and knowing I’m not allowed to touch or taste has to be almost as painful as enduring waterboarding.