Fighter's Heart: A Hot Sports Romance (Crown MMA Romance)

by A. Rivers

  “No.” My back is ramrod straight. Even if I want to puke, I’m not going to cower and plead for forgiveness. I did my best to fix Jase’s public image, even if I may have broken the no-fraternization rule while I was at it.

  He gestures for me to sit but I don’t. He wants the advantage of height so he can look down on me, and I’m not about to give it to him. In my heels, I’m a good two inches taller than Adrian.

  His expression darkens. “Even if you can salvage this situation, I doubt you’ll have a job at the end of this.” Pausing for a moment, he lets his words sink in.

  Is he threatening to fire me? Can he do that just because I didn’t pull off a miracle?

  Then he plays his ace. “Especially if you’ve been sleeping with him.”

  “Excuse me?” Did he just accuse me of…? My jaw drops. I mean, it’s true, but where does he get off suggesting that? We haven’t been obvious about it.

  Smirking, he grabs his phone, switches on the screen and shows me the headline. The room spins dizzyingly around me, and I finally sit because the alternative is to risk collapsing. There’s a photo of Jase and me on the front page of a tabloid magazine. The headline suggests that he slept with me to get himself out of a tight situation. I clutch my stomach, tasting bile in the back of my throat.

  “I—”

  “I don’t care what you have to say for yourself.” He tucks the phone away. “The evidence is clear.” Leaning forward, he puts his palms on my desk, towering over me. My hands are trembling and I slide them beneath my thighs so he can’t see. “I thought you were better than that, Lena.”

  He’s loving this. Being able to lord it over me. I can’t believe I gave him the ammunition to do it.

  “It didn’t interfere with my job,” I say weakly.

  “Are you really stupid enough to think that matters?” He raises a brow. “You’ve called the reputation of this firm into question.”

  Oh, God. This is actually happening. I’m going to lose my job. Panic lances through me. My career is all I have. If I lose that, what will I do? Go crawling back to my parents?

  Never.

  “The only way you’re ever going to have a future at this firm is if you fix this within the next twenty-four hours.” He tweaks his tie, and his tone is deceptively casual. “Even then, I’m uncertain whether we’ll be able to overlook your indiscretion.”

  My shoulders slump. I’ve given Adrian exactly what he wants. A way to keep me under his thumb forever, or get rid of me. Did he ever actually have any intention of letting me choose my own clients? Or would he have kept stringing me along even if I’d pulled this off without a hitch and kept my hands off Jase’s muscular body?

  Leaning back in my chair, I look up at him. His plump cheeks are flushed with victory. “Did you ever plan to let me choose my own clients?”

  He seems taken aback by the question. Then he shrugs. “Not really, truth be told. You’re too valuable where you are.”

  His betrayal is like an icy needle to the heart. I pinch the bridge of my nose and drag in a slow, deep breath, trying to keep myself together. But you know what? Fuck that. Why shouldn’t I tell this piece of human garbage exactly what I think of him? I’ll be miserable if I stay here—which may not even be an option—and based on the tabloid he showed me, I’d say my reputation is shot to hell all over the city. Why not have a little fun burning my bridges?

  I stand, and with a single motion, sweep nearly everything from my desk onto the floor, missing the laptop by a hair. A dozen tiny crashes sound in the space between us and the color blanches from Adrian’s face. Stalking around the desk, I put my painful heels to good use and look down my nose at him.

  “Don’t bother firing me. I quit.” A pressure lifts from my chest. “Fuck, that feels good.” Smiling, I say it again. “I quit, Adrian. Effective immediately.” Grabbing my bag from the floor, I sling it over my shoulder. “Good luck finding a replacement.”

  Then I march from the room, adding an extra sassy sway to my hips because I feel like a goddamn boss bitch. One who has no job, an apartment she can’t afford, and is about to bail her man out of jail.

  “Lena, wait!” Adrian calls after me.

  I don’t stop. Dimly, I’m aware of clapping as I pass through a series of cubicles, and Breanna catcalls and whistles. I don’t meet her eyes because I’m not a hundred percent sure what I’m doing, and if I stop, Adrian might catch up to me. I’m not going to let him talk me into anything. I’m done making other people look good. It’s time I do something for myself.

  Look out, Las Vegas. Lena LaFontaine is a free agent, and I’m coming to take what’s mine.

  With three phone calls, I find out where Jase is being held, and with another, I arrange a deal with a bail bondsman. Then I’m on my way. Clenching the steering wheel harder than needed, I try to check my panic. Only last night, Jase held me while I slept. Now he’s in a cell. This is a nightmare. He’s supposed to be training. Being arrested and detained is the last thing he needs, and he certainly doesn’t deserve it.

  I find a park, hurry into the precinct and make my way to the appropriate desk. “I’m here to post bail for Jase Rawlins,” I tell the woman behind the counter.

  She looks at me over the top of her glasses, and raises a brow like she doesn’t approve of what she sees. I don’t care. All I care about is getting him the hell out of here.

  “And who might you be?” she asks.

  “I’m his girlfriend.”

  Her brows knit together. “I thought his girlfriend was the one who filed the charges.”

  She’s read the papers. Go figure. “That’s his ex-girlfriend.”

  “Oh, honey.” She shakes her head at me. “No amount of fame or money is worth being knocked around. Take the opportunity to get out.”

  I suck in a deep breath and release it slowly, reminding myself she doesn’t have all the facts. “Can I pay the bail now?”

  Pushing her glasses up her nose, she checks something on the screen. “That will be ten grand.”

  I nod. That’s what I’d expected, and it’s what I discussed with the bail bondsman. I’m not worried about paying, because I know Jase can pay me back tenfold. Even if he couldn’t, I’d still bust him out. I pay the fee, sign some papers, and I’m led to a waiting area while a uniformed officer—who seems disappointed by my presence—leaves to collect Jase.

  I can’t sit still while I wait. I’m too fidgety and impatient. So I go over to the window and lean against it as I search my phone to see how many articles have reported the arrest, and also how many mention me personally. I scroll through pages of headlines and photos—my social life made visible to the entire world. God, it makes me sick to think what will happen to my career now. Everything I’ve worked so hard for, flushed down the toilet. Every hospital pass I took from a colleague means nothing. As far as the greater population is concerned, I’m just the girl stupid enough to jeopardize everything to screw Jase Rawlins.

  The thing they don’t realize?

  He’s worth it.

  Several minutes pass before the officer brings Jase to me. Racing over, I throw my arms around him, not caring who sees. He squeezes me back and buries his face in the crook of my neck. He’s dressed in his gym clothes and smells like old sweat, but I don’t care. He draws back, his gaze skimming my face and then down my body as if checking I’m all in one piece. Finally, his eyes meet mine. They’re shuttered and cold, and I can’t help but flinch away from him.

  “You bailed me out,” he rumbles in a low, soft voice.

  “Of course I did.” I rest my hands on his slim hips, but he steps away and they drop to my sides. An icy sense of dread prickles in a corner of my mind. “What’s wrong, Jase?”

  His hands become fists, and he looks out the window, avoiding eye contact. “You shouldn’t have. You should have just left me here.”

  My pulse kicks up a notch. What is he talking about? Why on earth would I do that?

  “I couldn’t stand the th
ought of you squished into a cell like an animal, and your championship fight is this week. You need to train.” My lips purse. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  He glances over my shoulder, scowls at someone, then drags me outside. On the street, he raises a hand to ward off a photographer and takes me into an alley, at which point I dig in my heels. I’ve hit my limit on the amount of random bullshit I can handle today.

  “What the hell is going on in your head?” I demand.

  Running a hand through his hair, Jase clacks his teeth together so loudly I can hear them. “I’ll pay you back whatever it cost to get me out, but after that, you need to leave me alone.”

  My heart stops. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Baby.” He takes a shaky breath. “Lena.” He reaches for my hands, but I yank them away and back up into a wall.

  “Don’t touch me until you explain yourself.”

  Raw despair makes his features harsh. “Cutie pie, you’re not seeing things clearly.”

  Well, that’s condescending as fuck. “I’m seeing things perfectly clearly,” I snap back.

  “No,” he grits out. “You’re not.” He starts to move closer, then stops himself. “This is so hard. But here it is: I’m bad for you. If I didn’t know it already, the proof is all over the internet. I’m dragging you down with me, and I can’t live with that.”

  I sigh, impatient. “You’re not dragging me down. I chose you, asshole.”

  “And I’m choosing not to be the reason your life is ruined,” he replies.

  Seriously, it’s like arguing with a brick wall.

  “I see things more clearly than ever.” Crossing to him, I lay my palms on his chest and stare up at him, willing him to stay with me. “I’m falling in love with you, Jase.”

  He goes white. Not the response I’d hoped for, although I didn’t think before opening my mouth.

  “Lena, I—” His Adam’s apple bobs, and he visibly gets a hold of himself. “You’re an amazing woman,” he says, which sounds oddly like rejection, “and I can’t bear to see you be reduced because you believe in me.” Gently, he disengages my hands from his chest and puts space between us. “That’s why I’ve got to back away from you.”

  He lingers, as though torn between whether to leave or stay. I want to make the decision for him, but I can also understand why he’s struggling with this. For so long he’s wanted someone to be on his side, even if he never said it, and now that he finally has me, it’s all blown up in my face. He feels responsible.

  Finally, he turns and walks away. Even though I understand, his desertion crumples my knees and I gasp for breath, willing myself not to cry.

  He can walk away, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on him. Jase can’t get rid of me that easily.

  17

  Lena

  Hell hath no fury like a woman pushed beyond her limit. It’s time to go full stalker mode. Everything that’s happened today came about because of two people: Erin and Karson. But Karson can’t fix it, and even though I’d willingly go three rounds with him in my current mood, doing so wouldn’t help. No, I need to direct my righteous anger at Erin. The one who started it all.

  First, I drive to the gym. Jase is already here, so I slip in unnoticed and gesture at Gabe, who’s the only one to look up when I enter. He glances at Jase, then crosses to me in lazy strides that defy the intensity of his eyes. Gabe Mendoza is a strikingly handsome guy in that quiet, brooding way. He’s bigger than Jase, and has a darker skin tone thanks to his Argentinian heritage. He also never seems to smile. Including now.

  “Thanks for bailing him out,” he says. “Seth was going to do it, but you beat him there. I guess he had a harder time coming up with the cash.”

  The bail wasn’t a problem for me. My parents are filthy rich and while I don’t ever touch their money because it comes with too many strings, my family name is a powerful tool when it comes to getting a loan. After all, lenders don’t need to worry about a LaFontaine failing to pay them back.

  “No problem.” I step closer and lower my voice. “Can I talk to you privately for a moment?”

  “Yeah.” He rolls his massive shoulders. “Just let me towel off. I’ll see you outside.” He pauses, as though weighing his words, then adds, “Think it’s for the best if Jase doesn’t see you.”

  The statement hurts, but I know he’s right so I backtrack and wait near the gym entrance. When Gabe emerges, he’s wearing a hoodie, shorts, and nothing on his feet. The tops of his feet are tattooed and I can’t help cringing at the thought of the pain he must have endured to get them.

  “You’ve got a plan,” he says, as though he already knows all about it.

  Crossing my arms, I hold his gaze. “I guess they call you ‘The Mind-Reader’ for a reason.”

  He doesn’t seem to get the joke. “I don’t read minds. I’m just observant.”

  Gee, I never would have guessed that.

  “What are you up to?” he asks.

  I don’t quaver in the face of his question, delivered with absolutely no emotion. Would it kill the guy to give me a hint of what’s going on in his head?

  “Erin,” I say, getting straight to the point. “What’s her story? Do you know what actually happened to her? Because someone hit her, and it wasn’t Jase.”

  He mirrors my posture, folding his arms over his chest, and his biceps strain against the fabric. “Why do you want to know?”

  I tap my foot, impatient. “Because I’m going to fix this, but I can’t without all of the information.”

  Gabe nods, and I think I see a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes, but it disappears so quickly I could have imagined it. “Erin started dating someone else not long after they broke up. His name’s Will Jones. Nasty S.O.B. Couldn’t tell you for sure, but he’s probably the one who hit her. All Jase did was give her a safe place to spend the night. She went psycho on him when he didn’t want to get back in the saddle. That enough detail for you?”

  My brain is firing at the speed of light. “This Will guy, is he another fighter?”

  Gabe’s lips twitch. “How’d you guess?”

  “Erin has a type. MMA bad boy.” I pat his arm. “Thanks, Gabe. Take care of him for me.”

  His eyes widen at the contact, and I wonder how long it’s been since anyone touched him outside of training. Unlike other UFC stars, he’s never in the tabloids with women, and Jase hasn’t mentioned him having a girlfriend, either. I’ll have to ask. After I convince the hardhead to give us a chance.

  He nods, and shifts from foot to foot. “See you around.”

  “Bet your ass you will.”

  With a wave, I return to my car. I drive home and I search for Will Jones on my phone. For the next hour, I pore relentlessly over his social media, traveling back a few days until I find shots of him with Erin. In some, they look happy, but in others, there’s fear and uncertainty in her expression. It’s not immediately obvious, but for someone who knows where to look, the signs are there. She’s scared of this guy, which means he’s probably the guilty party. If she wasn’t such a heinous bitch, I might feel sorry for her, but I can’t quite find it in me when she’s responsible for our current situation.

  Digging a bit deeper, I come across a picture of the couple timestamped with the date she alleges Jase hit her. I download a copy to my phone, then make a call to my contact Serene at the district attorney’s office. A promise of tickets to an upcoming Las Vegas Thunder hockey game is all it takes to convince Serene to peek into Will Jones’s police history. A few minutes later, she informs me that officers have been called to Jones’s house several times following complaints from the neighbors about domestic disturbances. Each time the police arrived, and the women they encountered refused to speak with them.

  Things are beginning to make sense. Erin must have been stupid enough to hook up with Will, and when he hit her, she went to the press. But why did she lay the blame at Jase’s feet? Was it because she was truly misguided enough to think she cou
ld blackmail him into getting back together with her? Or perhaps she was simply too scared of Will to say a word against him. If it’s the former, I can’t blame her for wanting Jase back. He’s caring and thoughtful and hot. He’s also about to be a big name in MMA if he wins the championship fight. But what exactly is it that’s driving Erin? Unrequited love? Money? A thirst for fame?

  Several hours and a lot of favors later, I have the answer. Erin has credit card debt. A lot of it. Apparently her job at the salon doesn’t pay enough to cover her lifestyle. Her rent is due, her cards are maxed out, and her utilities are soon to be shut off. She’s in trouble.

  And I have the leverage I’ve been looking for.

  The bitch is going down.

  This time, when I arrive at the salon, I don’t wait for Erin to be finished with her client. I march straight over and plant myself in front of her. “We need to talk.”

  Erin doesn’t pause. She continues snipping. The woman in the chair has wide doe-like eyes and looks familiar from somewhere. An actress or a musician, perhaps.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” Erin snaps.

  I raise the folder of papers I printed off at home. “You’d better make time, or I’ll call every one of my tabloid contacts and share what I have in this file.” Cocking my head, I aim for menacing, but I’ve never successfully menaced anyone in my life. “Trust me, you don’t want this getting into the wrong hands. It could paint you in a very bad light.”

  She must know I’m serious because she stops and lays her scissors down, sending a patently false smile to her client. “I’ll be back soon, Natalie. Can I get you a coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I follow Erin into the kitchen, where she busies herself at the counter. Sitting, I unpack the evidence I’ve come armed with, beginning with the photos of her and Will Jones, including the one from the day of the incident, and then moving on to his record of police call-outs, and lastly, I stack her financial details on top. She glances over her shoulder and comes to a dead halt.