Fighting for It

by Jennifer Fusco

  And he was ready to take their show to Vegas.

  * * *

  Eight hours later Jack parked his ride at Breeze’s. He stepped from the car and handed his keys to the valet. The smells and sounds of Vegas soaked in to his every pore. He imagined coming home would give him the same down-and-out feeling it always did, where his attitude would border on desperate and work its way toward irresponsible.

  Instead, drawing in a second breath, pride filled his chest. He was back and ready. Vegas didn’t intimidate him, and with Daniella by his side, he fucking owned this bitch. Lifting his head, he took Daniella’s hand and led her inside.

  After making a quick stop by the ticket booth, they followed Shakes to their ringside seats. Mike brought up the rear.

  Entering the arena, the hum of the crowd mixed with the scent of wood shavings from the freshly assembled ring sent his heart thumping. Eager for his own fight, a hunger welled inside him, one that couldn’t be sated with food or sex, but with the thrill of glove punching flesh. Tension mounted in his biceps. He wanted back in the ring.

  Now.

  He let out a deep exhale, settling for fifth row, center, with Mike seated on one side and Daniella on the other. He rocked his pelvis back in the chair, spreading his legs wide in a V. His thigh brushed against Dani’s, his left touching her right. Casually he threw his arm around her shoulders. Body heat kept their connection alive.

  Looking at the ring, a longing for the sport he loved overcame him. The scent of freshly laid canvas. The loud music pumping through the speakers. The referees and judges, corners and cut men, he’d missed it all.

  Only a few more days and he’d be back on a plane to London, ready to rock, ready to reclaim his career. Still holding Dani’s hand, he pumped it with a gentle squeeze.

  She squeezed back.

  A few moments passed. Just as he started to come down off his boxing high, a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder. “Sup, bro?”

  He turned around.

  Trevor, Stamina’s super-middleweight, smiled and stuck out his hand. “How’s it going?”

  His heart lifted. Jack stood up, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into a half hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long, I thought you quit boxing—gave up the gloves for a pole and the stage.”

  Trevor laughed. “Hey, don’t knock the titty bar. Strippers are people, too.”

  “Damn straight. Are you working tonight?”

  “Yeah, later. Shakes called and said everyone was coming here to watch the guy they might line up against Mike. Thought I’d show and inspect the good work Daniella has done on your out-of-shape ass.”

  Jack raised his chin in agreement. “Glad you did, brother, glad you did.”

  “Where’s Bulldog?” Shakes yelled out from his seat.

  “Who the hell knows,” Trevor answered. “He said he’d be here, though.”

  As if on cue, Bulldog sauntered into the arena, and Jack waved him over. His mouth naturally turned downward, making his expressionless face look like the dog he was named after. As soon as he got within earshot, Jack, Mike, and Trevor all yelled out together, “Julian,” in singsong tones, mocking his given name.

  “Fuck you,” he said with a smile as he embraced Jack. “Where the hell have you been, fishing or some shit?”

  “Maybe you could show up at the gym once in a while and find out,” Trevor answered. “Been working out by myself. Boss Lady’s in Tahoe and you were wondering if we’re on vacation.”

  Daniella reached over and hugged Bulldog. “It’s so good to see you, Julian. I’m glad we’re finally getting to meet.”

  A pink hue rose in Julian’s cheeks. “It’s okay. I knew you were busy with the big man.”

  “But I haven’t forgotten you,” she said.

  “No, ma’am.”

  Dani passed Bulldog a beer. She offered one to Mike, and he waved the cup away.

  She didn’t know he wouldn’t take the drink. His holier-than-thou routine was no act. If Mike was there to watch and study, then by God, Jack knew he’d have memorized both boxers’ footwork by the time they left the arena.

  Dude had skills.

  Mad ones.

  Shakes leaned over, looking down the line, and said, “The guy in the red corner won his last three fights by knockout. Watch his jab, and his right hook. He could be a decent contender for Mike once he’s fully turned pro.”

  Jack nodded in understanding. Watch and evaluate.

  The announcer entered the ring, rattling off a welcome, and laid down the stats for each opponent. Jack’s pulse quickened. Not because he gave a shit who won or lost, but because he knew that in five days, he’d stand in one of those corners.

  Those stats would be his stats. All eyes on him. The only difference? The announcer’s British accent.

  The bell rang.

  Two men darted out from their corners and touched gloves. He knew by experience three to four minutes would pass before the cat-and-mouse crap stopped and the real boxing started. Mike leaned over to him and asked, “You ready?”

  He gave a decisive nod. “Moved the match to London. Looks like I’m going back.”

  Mike’s gaze peeled from the ring. “Alone?”

  Jack shook his head. “But the dressing room is as far as she’ll be able to go.”

  “Fucking handlers. Clarke?”

  “No way. If I see Clarke, Cortez won’t be the only one I’m knocking down.”

  Mike turned his head toward him. He must’ve noticed his leg propped against Dani’s, because he said, “You two together?”

  “Yeah.”

  Wordlessly, Mike turned his attention back to the ring. The action heated.

  Red corner led with a left hook to the body. Both boxers traded shots at close range. Jack knew Mike always started fights faster than this guy. He didn’t look like much of a challenge. Red corner jabbed. His opponent, not able to deal with the heavy punches, cowered and doubled. Knowing Mike, he could match this guy blow for blow.

  No one spoke until the end of round one.

  He leaned to Mike. “You can take this guy.”

  Mike didn’t respond. Jack didn’t expect him to. He kept his opinions, where boxing was concerned, to himself. Mike also had yet to respond to the news he and Daniella were together. That little fact didn’t go unnoticed.

  Both fighters sat in their corners. He knew their routine. The coach screamed instructions, while the cut man jumped in and applied more grease to the headgear or took an eye iron to the boxer’s face to reduce swelling.

  In the twenty seconds before round two, Jack looked at Daniella talking to Shakes. It was as if both of them were plotting Mike’s win. She leaned in to Shakes, whispered, a glow showing on her face. She looked as if she’d found where she was meant to be. Here with her new team. Boxing pumping through her veins.

  A woman in her element.

  Warmth surrounded him. He had his girl and his brothers with him. Nothing was better than this.

  Round two started.

  Red corner jumped out first, landing shots to the body with a quick one-two. His opponent swung and missed. Red corner stepped in, pressing his opponent to the ropes. Forehead to forehead, red corner landed dynamic punches, hard, right to the solar plexus.

  Jack knew, if cornered, Mike had trouble bouncing off the ropes, and this was clearly red corner’s strategy. After four hard right hands, Jack leaned over to Mike. “He’s a fucking tank.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, red corner swung with a quick shot to the head, then to body, then finished him with an upper cut. His opponent hit the mat.

  And didn’t get up.

  Shit.

  Jack craned his neck to Mike. He didn’t say a word. Then he turned his body around to Trevor and Dog. They were all turning to each other, each with a what-the-hell-just-happened look on their faces.

  A knockout in the second round, one as quick and fierce as red corner threw, was almost unheard of.

  Mike leaned over to
ward Daniella. “I want him in the ring.”

  Her eyes still wide, she nodded.

  Mike lifted from the chair and walked out of the arena. With a quick “Excuse me” to Daniella, Jack followed.

  He tracked the sight of Mike walking through the glass doors, exiting the casino, stopping in the line for the valet.

  “Hey,” Jack called. “Daniella wanted us to go to the gym after the fight. Discuss what we saw.”

  Mike dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his valet ticket, giving it to the attendant. When they found themselves alone, Jack said, “Where are you going? Do you have some kind of problem?” He didn’t hide the challenge in his tone.

  Mike paused as if he needed time to gather his thoughts. He balled his hand into a fist, as if this were a conversation he was trying to avoid, but couldn’t.

  “Well, do you?” Jack taunted.

  Mike squared his shoulders. “Look. I’m only going to say this once. I’m going to lay down some truth, so I hope you’re hearing me.”

  Jack stuck out his chest. “I’m hearing you.”

  “Do not fuck Daniella over.”

  Jack felt his nostrils flare. “Is that it?”

  “No.” The muscles in Mike’s neck bunched. His eyes looked cold, distant. “If you lose in London, we all lose. Has that registered with you?”

  “It’s all I think about.” He wasn’t lying. Jack was constantly worried about what would happen if he lost. Maybe his mother’s fears would come true and he’d be a washed-up boxer, going no place like Gary.

  Mike didn’t look satisfied. “You’re messing with Stamina. My boss. My gym. My career, and Trevor’s, and Dog’s. Jack, don’t fuck this up. Are we clear?”

  His eyes narrowed into little slits. “We’re clear.”

  “Good.”

  The attendant arrived. Parking Mike’s car in front of them, he opened the door. Mike walked around the side, tipped the guy, and drove off.

  Mike. His right-hand man. His sounding board. The voice of reason and all that happy horseshit.

  Like always, the guy made his point.

  Over the last few weeks, Jack focused on Jack. And Daniella. The rest of the world fell out of his visual field. Being together with Dani from here on out deeply rooted him in all things Stamina, starting with his win in London. If he lost, Stamina was all over. They simply wouldn’t have the money to carry on. A fact that hadn’t changed from the day Daniella walked into his apartment.

  Before he’d reconnected with Dani, he’d spent too much time focused on what he didn’t have, what he lost. Now thanks to Mike, he realized that he needed to fully embrace his responsibility to his brothers.

  His gym.

  His new life.

  His opportunity.

  Screw the past, and the people who tried to bring him down, or turned tail and skipped town. Facing fears was a hell of a lot harder than a quick cut and run. Screw his family and their dysfunction. He didn’t need them, their chaos, or their propensity for bad decisions.

  His future, his family, stood right in front of him.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Jack placed one foot in front of the other and walked back through the casino’s glass doors toward Daniella, ready to claim her, his position, his responsibility.

  Ready to claim it all.

  It was the best decision he’d made in his life.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The next morning Daniella balanced both coffee cups in her hands as Jack pulled into Stamina’s parking lot. He took a wide turn, and luckily she didn’t spill a drop on her white jeans.

  Coffee stains were bitches to get out.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with me staying with you?” she asked. She had crashed at his place that night, but didn’t want to assume his place was hers. Boxers didn’t like to be cornered in or out of the ring.

  He pushed the gearshift into park and killed the engine. “Baby, I don’t want you staying anyplace else.”

  “I could stay at R. L.’s apartment, if you know, you needed your space.”

  “My space is your space.” He leaned to her. “Besides, I called a housekeeper before we left the cabin. I had the place all spruced up for you.”

  She covered his mouth with a light kiss, and pulled away from him teasingly slow. “More of that later.”

  He winked. “Promise?”

  “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

  He grinned. Taking one of the coffee cups from her grasp, he got out of the Charger and walked around to open the door for her. He offered her his free hand.

  Placing her hand in his, she looked down at her ankle. “I took the brace off this morning.”

  “Go easy.” He steadied her and braced as she lifted herself out of the car. “That’s it. Nice and slow.”

  Gingerly she pressed down on her foot, distributing her weight. “A little sore. Not too bad.”

  Jack helped her into the gym. Stamina, as if it were a home, waited for her as it always did. Nothing had changed. Opening the door for her, the smells of determination, sweat, and leather hit her in the face. She allowed her eyes to pass over the cement walls. Oh, how she missed the tattered boxing equipment, the dim fluorescent lights, and the hum from the breaker box in the corner.

  Her pulse quickened. Maybe it was the rush of her morning caffeine, or maybe this was her body’s way of telling her where she belonged.

  Shakes greeted them with a smile.

  “You’re here early,” she said. Jack offered a coffee cup to Shakes and the old man quickly accepted it.

  “I wanted to bring out all of the paperwork we needed for the London fight from R. L.’s office, that way you wouldn’t have to go in there.”

  She allowed her eyes to settle on her father’s office door. A twinge grabbed her heart. She looked over to Jack. Would he say something? No. He only nodded. He was the perfect picture of strength and support.

  “I appreciate it, Shakes, but Dad would’ve wanted me to go in there and make his office my own.”

  A look of surprise crossed his face. “Well then, let’s get to it.”

  Jack’s warm hand landed on her lower back, escorting her to her office. She crossed over the threshold. Her father’s chair sat behind his desk, her picture proudly displayed in the corner, only a light trail of dust patterned the top of the frame like a snowfall. The office was just the way he’d left it. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, but she pressed forward.

  She pulled the chair out from the desk and Jack asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  He bared his pearly whites and flashed a killer smile. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”

  “Okay.”

  He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and shut the door behind him, leaving her alone in the office with Shakes.

  “Did everything come through? The licensing and travel documents?”

  Shakes paused, sipping his coffee. “This coffee’s really good, Dani. I appreciate the thought.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “What is it, Shakes?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’ve known you for most of my life and every time there’s something you want to avoid talking about, you change the subject. I asked about travel docs and you answered with coffee. What’s up? What’s bothering you?”

  He pursed his lips. Busted.

  After another long draw from his cup, he said, “Maybe you should consider staying here, and not go to London. Let me take Jack alone.”

  She sat back in her chair. “Why?”

  “Bill collectors called this morning. Something about a delay in payment for the insurance on the gym.”

  Dani’s mouth pulled down. “I’ll admit that this hasn’t been the best of times for Stamina financially. Jack’s win should put us back in the black.”

  “I see,” he said, but the grave expression on his face told her he saw something she didn’t.

  “Without Jack’s win, there’s no Mike, T
revor, or Bulldog. Hell, without Jack’s win, there’s no Stamina. So yeah, I’m a little focused on Jack right now. I still don’t see why that’s a problem?”

  “Because you’re in love with him.”

  Like a shard of glass through her skin, his words struck her hard.

  “I can see it on your face,” he continued, “you love him.”

  She did. She knew it.

  “And I’m not sure being in love with him is good for you,” Shakes finished.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she mentally counted to ten, gathering her composure. “He might love you right now, but what happens when he wins and he goes back to feeling invincible? His eye wanders, Dani, you know that. If he plays fast and loose with your heart again, how’s that going to affect Stamina?”

  She trusted Jack. They were a team.

  “He won’t.”

  Shakes shook his head. “All I’m asking is whether you’ve thought about how Stamina is affected if your relationship with Jack doesn’t work.”

  As awkward as their conversation was, she knew it came from a place of love and concern. Shakes didn’t have a mean bone in his body, and in the absence of R. L. he had slid into the role of fatherly advisor.

  “It will be okay,” she said. Admittedly even to her ears her voice sounded desperate. She wanted so badly for Shakes to believe her. “Trust me. No. Trust Jack. If you don’t, we all have nothing to hold on to, and it’s all over. Stamina’s already gone.”

  Shakes lifted a hand and stroked his chin. “Well, I’ve always been a gambler.”

  “Odds are he’ll prove us both right this time.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Daniella waited for Jack to finish his workout. Moments before, Shakes had emerged from her office, and she only hoped she’d put his paternal worries to rest. She wished everyone could see Jack as she did: as a champion in the making. He’d taken control of his training, and fought his way back to being a real challenger for Cortez. Why didn’t everyone see what she saw? The question gnawed at the base of her skull, making the ride back to his apartment unusually silent.

  Jack pulled in to his driveway and parked. Opening Dani’s door, he extended his hand. “What’s on your mind, baby?”