No Holds (The Fighter Series Book 4)

by TC Matson

  Levi jerks her beside him, spreads his stance wide, and expands his chest like I should give a damn. “Still dreaming about my wife?”

  I smirk in disbelief. “Far from it.” I tighten my grip on Whit’s waist.

  Levi’s face lights up with laughter as it slides to Whitney. He grins at her, tilting his head with forged concern. “You shouldn’t be hanging with him. A piece of shit like him doesn’t deserve a spot on the bottom of your heels, sweetheart.”

  “I get a hard-on when you talk about yourself like that,” I bite.

  Levi nods to Murphy. “My boy here is going to fuck up your last chance at the pros.”

  Smugly, I tip my chin to him. “You scared to be in the ring with me again?”

  “I’ve proven my point with you.”

  “From what I hear, you’re just a trained-up sparring partner. I look forward to an easy training day,” Nick chimes his bitch self in.

  “Guys,” Brian tries again, but none of us pay him a damn ounce of attention.

  There’s so much animosity in the air, so much hatred crackling between us, I can feel it in my bones and in each steady breath I take.

  “I’ll see you again in the ring. You can bet on it,” I promise.

  Levi chortles. “You’ll make an ugly ass ring girl.”

  “At least I won’t be one you’ve slept with,” I deadpan.

  It lights a fire in his eyes. His jaw ticks. I fucking love knowing I get under his skin.

  He tips his head. “Does she know how vengeful you are? How malevolent and dirty you’re willing to stoop just for a weak advantage? I bet if she knew the boy you are, the pussyfooted little punk you are, she’d run away and find a real man.”

  “Is that why Paige came running to me?” I smart off abrasively.

  The fire I lit in Levi explodes and he lunges, connecting a right hook into my jaw. I counter with a left jab and reciprocate the right hook, landing it precisely against his cheek. It snaps his head to the side, but only briefly, and he wraps me up. I’m able to land a few shots into his ribs before we’re violently ripped apart and away from each other.

  Two people are pulling me by each shoulder while Brian is in my face, pushing me backward, yelling something I can’t fucking hear.

  Nick and Paige have Levi by the arms yanking him away from me.

  “Fuck you!” Levi shouts. “I’ll fucking murder you in the ring. You want another shot? I’ll bring my ass back to your level just for another easy fucking win.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be in your motherfucking ring soon. Your lucky shots won’t win it next time,” I ground out so viciously it burns my throat.

  “Lucky?” He rips his arms from Nick and straightens his blazer. “Ignorant bastard. I won that. The superior won.”

  “Calm the fuck down,” Brian barks and I shove him to the side.

  “You better prepare yourself for a motherfucking storm.”

  Levi throws his hand up, dismissing the situation, grabs Paige’s hand, and shoves off in the opposite direction.

  I catch Paige looking back over her shoulder at me and I scowl before shifting my glare to Brian.

  “Get the fuck off me.” I rip my arms from the guys at my side.

  “Save that shit for the ring,” Brian says shoving me for the last motherfucking time.

  With both fists, I grab his collar and pull him to my face. “You should’ve known better,” I scathe. “That was fucking dirty and you fucking know it, you fucking dirty bastard.”

  “Chill out, man.” He tucks his tail.

  I drop him. “Put your hands on me again, and I’ll light your ass up.”

  I spin around to grab Whit and get the hell out of here. Her hands are over her mouth, eyes huge with fear, standing several feet away from where I was about to murder Levi. I jerk her beside me and stride through the gawking crowd, out the front door.

  She’s struggling to keep up with me, her heels clicking quickly as I storm through the parking lot full of limos, just begging for Levi to be here. I rip open the door and she slides in.

  She sits away from me and doesn’t say a word as we make our way back to the hotel. The elevator ride is just as quiet. I’m invisible to her.

  Immediately, pushing through the door of our hotel, she heads straight into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her.

  I’m still too pissed to care.

  I shrug out of my black blazer and toss it on the couch. I’m fucking boiling with anger. Hostility prickles my skin. My knuckles are thirsting for his blood.

  I don’t know how long it is when she finally reemerges from the bathroom, but just the sight of her—in lounge pants, one of my t-shirts swallowing her whole, and her hair in a messy ass bun—melts all the anger away.

  I step to her and peer down. “I’m sorry…for that.”

  My apology has no effect. She scowls “What the hell was that?”

  “He and I have an ugly past.” I’m begging the will to keep my temper in check.

  “An ugly past? That felt like much more than just an ugly past, Ryker.”

  I start to say something, but she cuts me off.

  “I might not know all the ins and outs of this sport, but I know what I saw. That didn’t start over hatred in the competition. That wasn’t a grudge between victory and defeat. Those shots were directed to his wife for the sake of a double-sided blow.”

  I blink to her and puff a laugh. “She’s so fucking stupid.”

  “Why? Because she married him? Or because she’s not with you.”

  I snap my head to her, anger beginning to rise back into my chest.

  “So all the ‘mine’s bigger than yours’ stems from fighting?” she asks.

  I sigh, raking my hands over my face. “I told you we’ve never liked each other. He’s an arrogant shithead.”

  Her laugh reminds me of something more corrupt, less of her. “You realize you have no room to talk? You made yourself look just as bad.”

  “Don’t you compare me to him. He took the first hit,” I growl.

  “You took the first low-blow by talking shit to his wife. What’s with her?”

  I don’t answer her and walk back into the living room.

  She’s on my heels. “Answer me, Ryker.”

  I don’t. I’m not having this conversation.

  “Does he have something you want?” Her tone is acidic. “Or are you that much of a bastard just like he said?”

  Something inside of my chest snaps. My world rises in red while the black pulls into the corners. My pulse leaps to my temples and thunders in my ears. I stalk to her, rage vibrating my entire body, and bend, leveling my enraged glower on her. “He didn’t take the fucking pros from me. I gave it to him by pissing on his fucking territory. You want the truth?” I spit. “I am a dirty bastard pushing myself into her life after the dickhead cheated on her. She was vulnerable and I preyed on it. Except that shit fucking blew up in my face.”

  She tries to back away, turning on her heel to leave, but I snatch her hand, jerking her back to face me. “You wanted to know so fucking badly. Stand here and listen to it.” I grit through my teeth. “I mended her heart, helped her through all the tough times, but I’m the fucking bad guy. I pissed caution in the wind.”

  “Does he still have something you want?” Her voice shakes.

  “Yeah. The fucking contract that should’ve been mine. The bout I should’ve won, but I was too far up my own ass. I gave him that fight. I fucking hurt myself,” I snarl, constricting my fists so tightly at my side, pain trickles into my fingertips.

  She blinks to me, her eyes laced with concern and hurt. “She’s the one who broke your heart?”

  Her voice is tender and it lifts the cloak of anger…slightly. Light flickers back in, forcing the blackness to dissipate. I glance to my tightly coiled fists, release them, and blink back to her. “No,” I say more even-tempered. “She’s the one who reminds me of how fucking pathetic I am and how dirty I can get.”
r />   We exchange a stare—hers innocent and heartbreaking, mine defeated and pissed—before I walk away.

  “I’ll be back.” It’s the last thing I say before slamming the door behind me.

  I take the elevator to the top of the hotel and tear out of it before the doors finish sliding open. I pace, punching the air in front of me, fuming, wishing for something more solid to land my knuckles on. I drop into a black metal chair tucked off into the corner, rest my elbows on my knees and stare into the night sky. The air is crisp, the breeze is cold, and it’s doing nothing to calm me down.

  I’ve never forgiven myself for what I did. I went against everything I stood for and got involved with someone else’s issues for my own benefits. Paige was off limits and I knew it. Instead of manning up, I stepped down. It started out as a way to rile Levi up, force him into submission. I chewed on the edge of her vulnerability…intentionally. I manipulated the situation. But then things took a turn when I started seeing who she was, little by little, and liked what I saw.

  I’m trained to see things most don’t. It’s been ingrained into my memory, forced into my day-to-day living to see things happening before they do. I was baffled when I crossed the line with Paige. Stunned as I watched her run away from me. I never saw that shit coming. Never calculated the reaction. In the middle of trying to do vile things, I got so caught up in the mess, I smeared shit into my own eyes.

  When I found out the pitiful bastard somehow weaseled himself back into her life, I jumped on the scum train and used it to my advantage. Or so I thought.

  I stooped to a new low, to a person I’ve never been, and lashed out in the middle of a bout, trying to wound him emotionally. You can’t fight with emotions and I was going exploit his, stun, and dominate him. Instead, I felt my own self-worth shatter from my own distain. I fucked myself up.

  And felt like a scummy dickheaded bastard.

  Simmered down and collected, I quietly step back into the room. Her hair is fanned out behind her as she sleeps in the empty king-sized bed, arm thrown over a pillow where I should be.

  She’s angelic.

  I fucked up.

  I slip out of my clothes and into the bed with her, gently kissing her arms.

  “I’m sorry,” I say in between kissing her skin. “I’m so sorry, Whit.”

  She stirs and grabs my cheeks, pulling my face to hers. “Is there something I need to be worried about?”

  “No.” It’s the sober truth. “I’m sorry.” I drop my head.

  There’s silence as she sits up and grabs my hand. “You’re not pathetic. You made a mistake. Everyone makes them. I hope you learned from it.”

  I don’t reply. I learned more about myself than I care to admit.

  “That man you were tonight…that wasn’t you. You painted yourself as some sort of colossal heartless asshole and you lost your focus. I’m the privileged one who sees you for you. I get the real you. But tonight, you lived off your scars. You fed the anger and hurt all the while failing to see you only injured yourself.”

  Again, I don’t say anything, staring at the ruffled sheet, scared—yes, petrified—to look her in the eyes.

  “I get it. You have to be Ryker the Striker for the sport, but the Striker can stay in the cage. He isn’t allowed to show up anywhere else.”

  “It’s who I am, Whit,” I say.

  “No. It’s who you portray.”

  “It’s the name of the game.”

  “I’m not playing a game, Ryker. The man I’m in love with and who loves me would never scare me like that.”

  Her words deflate me. “I don’t deserve you.”

  She raises my head and feathers a few kisses on my cheek. “You do. But I promise, if you ever do that to me again, it’ll be the last time you see me. I won’t stand for it.”

  “I’d rather cut off my hands before hurting you.”

  She kisses me tenderly and then leans back serious as hell. “You’re forgiven, but don’t you dare think about sex tonight.”

  I blow a chuckle. “I’ll change your—”

  “You won’t. You’ll go to bed and keep your dick to yourself.” She slides back down and pulls the covers up to her neck.

  I shove my arm under her and pull her back into my chest, resting my head against her. “I hate dog houses.”

  “Then keep yourself out of them.” She wins.

  Chapter 24

  What a freaking whirlwind of a weekend. Seeing the demands of Ryker’s past haunt him broke my heart. It never occurred to me he had any because he carries himself with no regrets. Through his eyes, I could see all his anger and pain, all the hurt and disappointment in himself for sinking so low. He demoralized himself and loathed it. I didn’t have the heart to ask him why he did it. Why, if he’s so sure of himself, would he do it?

  He’s not mentioned it since the morning after, only apologizing again for yanking me back to him. Even with the evil glazing his eyes, I didn’t feel scared of him. Just scared for him.

  We walk through the door and he takes my bags down the hall to my bedroom. I reach in the fridge for something to drink but it’s interrupted by my phone ringing.

  “I’m starting to feel like you’re hiding from us,” my mom says.

  “No, Mom. I’ve just been really busy.”

  “That boyfriend of yours is taking a lot of my little girl’s time,” she says like I don’t already know it. “I’m still waiting on the day we get to meet him. Why haven’t we met him? Is he there?”

  Lie or not to lie to Mom? I hesitate. “He is.”

  “Then you need to do that video chat thing we’ve done before.”

  I look to Ryker who has made himself quite comfortable on the couch and has no idea how afraid I am of this moment.

  “Whitney?”

  “Maybe another time, Mom.”

  “Now is as good of a time as any other. Dan? How did you do the video call thing?” There’s shuffling noise.

  Seconds later my phone beeps and I’m forced to accept the video call with a pulse rocketing in my chest.

  Dad and his handsome silver strands cram into the frame with Mom, who is still denying the fact her hair is changing colors and keeps it auburn.

  “There’s my princess,” Dad says.

  “Hey, Daddy.”

  “Where’s this boyfriend of yours you’ve been dating forever and keeping away from us?” Mom says loudly, looking into the background.

  I glance to Ryker and he’s grinning, amused as hell.

  “Mom…” I grumble.

  She gasps. “He isn’t as good looking as you’ve made him out, is he? It’s okay, Whitney. As long as he’s good to you.”

  “Mom!”

  “Diane,” Dad laughs.

  Ryker is getting a kick out of this. He sits up and pats the couch beside him. There isn’t any getting out of this now.

  I exhale and drop beside him. “Mom. Dad. This is Ryker.”

  You’d think I would be more excited about this, but I’m not. There are things I’ve omitted to them about him because…well, I know they won’t understand.

  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Young,” Ryker smiles.

  “You’ve taken all my daughter’s time. What do you have to say for yourself?” Mom tries to sound serious, but instead snickers.

  She’s never been good at keeping a straight face. When I was younger and she would fuss at me for something, I would intentionally make funny faces to have her crack. I learned young, you can’t get in as much trouble when your parents crack. But this also changed the roles. Dad became the disciplinarian. And him fussing at me broke my heart more than anything. I hated for him to be disappointed in me.

  “That I’m enjoying it, and I also apologize,” he replies.

  “You need to talk her into bringing you here for dinner,” Mom says. “Whitney, you need to bring him to dinner. Ryker, honey, are you allergic to any foods?”

  I snort at the “mom” question. “I’ve been busy, Mom,” I remind her.
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br />   “You’re never too busy for us, Princess,” Dad says. “It’s quite an interesting hairdo you have.”

  “Oh my God,” I mumble dropping my head into my hand. “You wonder why I haven’t brought him around.”

  “What’d I say? I’m just asking the boy about his hair,” Dad says.

  “Dan, stop it. You’re embarrassing her.” She smacks dads arm. “You do have pretty eyes. Dan, did you see them? Whitney said you did.”

  “Come on,” I whine my groan.

  Ryker chuckles.

  My parents are incredibly supportive and caring. They love and support me with all their might, but they’ll embarrass the shit out of me in a heartbeat without a care in the world.

  “Ryker, right?” Dad asks. “Tell me about yourself.”

  I jump in with a rush to divert the conversation. “Can’t we save this for when you meet him in person? Why badger him to death over the phone?”

  “What do you do for a living, son?” Dad ignores me.

  “He owns a gym, dad. I’ve already told you that,” I interject and immediately Ryker’s eyes cut to me. I think he’s figured it out…

  “He is pretty buff. You said he was muscular,” Mom says. “Let’s set up a dinner for next weekend or the weekend after. Whichever works the best. We’re always home, except Dan has golf things, but that’s during the week,” Mom rambles.

  With very clear intent, Ryker says the words I feared. “I’ll be unable to since I have a fight coming up.”

  My breath gets caught in my throat. My stomach drops along with my mouth, and I slump my shoulders. Dammit.

  Mom’s eyes widen and Dad’s jaw sets with a hard stare. “A fight?” Mom gasps. “Why on earth are we fighting? When did we start planning out fights? Back when I was younger, we’d—”

  “You’re a fighter?” Dad’s tone is stern and straightforward.

  Ryker nods. “Yes.”

  “Mom, what time do you want us—” I start, but Dad shuts me up.

  “Whitney, cut the shit and quit interrupting.” He chastises me with so much harshness, I blink back the tears he just threatened. “What kind of fighter? A boxer?”