Strong Hold

by Sarah Castille

  Just as it was changing now. He’d found Shayla, and nothing in his life would ever be the same. Leaving her was his biggest regret. Despite his pain, he couldn’t make the same mistake again. Even if they couldn’t resolve the issues between them, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least try to rekindle the friendship they had lost.

  Rio was a problem. He had to go where Kip told him to go, and he couldn’t afford to lose the job. Viv had been going through some tests, and if it turned out her leukemia had returned, he would need the medical insurance he had arranged for her through MEFC to cover the cost. His stomach clenched at the thought of Viv having to go through chemo all over again. She had been devastated to lose her long, buttery-blond hair, because it was her only link to our mom, who she could barely remember. Ever practical, Lily had dragged her to a store that sold wigs, but Viv had opted to wear colorful scarves and headbands that she dyed herself in yet another artistic venture that she gave up before it was really off the ground.

  “You got a girl there? I feel like you’re only half listening.”

  Zack drummed his fingers on the night table. He needed to give Kip something or be faced with yet another impossible choice.

  “What if I could get you a female fighter?” he asked, thinking quickly. Shayla was on the cusp of success. He’d reviewed her stats with Torment and watched videos of her fights, but it was only last night when they’d talked that he began to suspect what was holding her back.

  Fear.

  She was afraid to take a risk. She’d lost touch with the girl she used to be, and once she’d found herself in the ring with a higher class of fighters, fear held her back. He didn’t know what had happened to change her, but if she could find herself again, tap into that little girl he’d met on Devil’s Hill, she could be one of the best professional fighters in her weight class. To do that, she needed to shake things up. New coach. New trainer. New plan.

  “A woman?” Kip’s voice rose with interest. Female fighters were few and far between, and the good ones were in high demand. A female fighter would be gold for a promotion like MEFC. “Is she the one you were considering at Redemption?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Shayla Tanner.”

  “Never heard of her.”

  “You will. And in three months, she’ll be wearing the MEFC brand.”

  “Three months?” Kip sighed. “She’s not ready now?”

  “No,” he said honestly. “She’s got the skill and the potential to be a star. With the right coach, I think she’d have a shot at the amateur featherweight title, and that’s three months away. She’s worth the investment.” Almost every winner of an amateur title belt was signed to the pros. It was a ninety-nine point nine percent guarantee.

  “So you want me to hire a coach? Do you have someone in mind?”

  Zack squeezed his hand into a fist. “Me.”

  Kip laughed. “Is this another Grayson reinvention? First a fighter, then a recruiter, now a coach?”

  “I don’t think anyone else could do the job.”

  Silence.

  The skin on the back of Zack’s neck prickled. Kip was only quiet when he was planning something, and Zack had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good.

  “Are you sleeping with her?”

  “No.” At least something good had come from Shayla pushing him away last night.

  “I’ve got a new recruiter I could send to Rio,” Kip said, musing. “But he’s not you. He doesn’t have your experience, your contacts, or your star appeal. If I send him, I’m taking a risk of losing my golden boy—”

  “A good female fighter is worth three golden boys,” Zack said, interrupting. “You know that.”

  Kip chuckled. “Not sure if I like having your negotiation skills used against me. But how about this? I’ll give you the three months to train her, but it comes out of your vacation. You have four months banked, since you’ve barely taken any time off since you started. If she finishes in the top two at the title fight, we sign her, and I triple your usual bonus. If she doesn’t win…” He paused, and Zack’s pulse kicked up a notch. “You go back in the cage.”

  “No.” Kip had been trying to get him back in the game since he’d hired him as a recruiter, and Zack knew his possible comeback was the real reason he’d been given the job.

  “C’mon, man.” Kip sighed. “It’s been four years. Yes, what happened was brutal, but it wasn’t your fault, and the likelihood of it ever happening again is almost zero. The fans haven’t forgotten you. I have sponsors calling me every day asking about Slayer. The MMA world needs a new hero, and MEFC needs a star fighter who’s going to draw the crowds—someone with a story, a history. That’s you. Zack Grayson. The comeback kid.”

  For the briefest of moments, Zack allowed himself to imagine the thrill of stepping into the cage, the burst of adrenaline at the sound of the bell, letting everything fall away except the basic primal instinct to conquer the enemy. He heard the roar of the crowds, smelled the sweat and blood, felt the vinyl under his feet and the hard mesh at his back. Every fight was a reminder of the nights Matt and his friends had ambushed Zack in the back alleys or side roads of Glenwood. Every win was the realization of the dreams he’d had when he had lain bruised and bleeding on the ground.

  “It’s not going to happen. She’s going to win the title belt.” He hadn’t been there to save her from the fall that destroyed her dream of being a dancer, but he would damn well be there to help her realize her dream of becoming a professional fighter.

  It was his path to Redemption.

  Now, he just had to convince Shayla it was her path, too.

  10

  Shayla

  “This isn’t so bad. I must be in good shape.”

  I look over at Cheryl, sweating it out beside me on the treadmill. After Joe’s health scare, I convinced both of them to give the gym a try. Joe lasted one night and called it quits, but Cheryl shows up every now and again, ostensibly so I can help her work out, but in reality to ogle the men.

  “This is a warm-up.” I walk beside her at a doctor-mandated “light exercise” pace.

  “Maybe for you,” Cheryl huffs. “But any faster and they’d be peeling me off the mat. Plus, how would I be able to appreciate the view if sweat was dripping down my face? I need a clear field of vision.”

  “Who’s replacing me at work tonight?” When the gym closes at nine p.m., Cheryl is heading out for what was supposed to be our ten p.m. to five a.m. shift.

  “Sol.” She sighs. “I’m going to have to spend another shift slapping his hands away from my ass. He’s just back from a one-month suspension for sexually harassing the female security team over at building three. I heard he was really angry at Symbian, even though all he got was a slap on the wrist. Apparently, he wants to sue them for five million dollars. He’s a nasty piece of work.”

  “What about your complaint?” I wave to Rampage and Blade Saw as they head toward the door. Ten minutes before closing, the gym is nearly empty. Cheryl and I are the only people on the cardio equipment, and there are a few stragglers over at the free weights.

  “It was lumped in with the others. Apparently, my ass wasn’t special.”

  “I wish he’d grab my ass.” I increase my speed another notch. My heart’s not even beating hard, and after last night’s kiss with Zack, I am desperate to burn off some of my tension. “I’m just dying for an excuse. Last time I worked with him, he told me MMA is a man’s sport, and if he was in charge, he’d make all the female fighters wrestle naked in a mud pit. One of these days, I’d like to get him alone and show him just how hard I can punch.”

  “I kinda wish for that, too,” Cheryl says. “It would be something to see.” She slows her treadmill down to a very slow walk. “You know something else I’d like to see? The hunk of manliness who
came to see you at work the other day. You said he was an ex. What’s going on with him?”

  “Nothing.” Just talking about Zack makes me feel overwhelmed by feelings I don’t want to have, longings I thought were buried so deep, they would never resurface. How can I move forward when the past keeps dragging me back?

  “Yeah? Well, it didn’t look like nothing to me.” She pats her brow with a white towel, and it comes away with a slight rose tinge. Every week, she tries a new look, and this week, she has dyed her hair hot pink. “After four husbands, I know all about ex relations.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That dude was sex on a stick, and he wants you bad. Who drives out to a industrial estate just to check a bump on your head?”

  “He hurt me, Cheryl. Badly. He tore out my heart and stomped it on the ground. I never got over it.” I force myself to keep to the slow pace, mindful of the doctor’s advice. At least I’m feeling a bit warmer. Or is it thinking about Zack that has heated my blood?

  “What did he do?”

  I tell Cheryl about my past with Zack right through to our night in the cheap hotel and my decision to move to New York. Cheryl knows about my life as a ballerina and that I moved to San Francisco after an accident that ended my career. She also knows that I was married, although not how it ended. “I didn’t see or hear from him again until he walked into Redemption,” I tell her as our feet thud on our respective treadmills. “He told me he did it for me, so I could live my dreams without him holding me back. But it was my choice, and he took it away from me. I can’t forgive him for that.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She shrugs. “Sounds to me like his intentions were good but his execution was poor. He was trying to do the right thing.”

  “Poor doesn’t even come close to how I felt that night. And it was the wrong thing. Totally wrong. It took me down a path that ended my career.”

  “But now you’re a fighting machine.” She wheezes between words and stabs at the control panel to lower the speed.

  “A broken fighting machine. Things aren’t going so well. I’ve hit a plateau.”

  “Maybe he can help you.” She slows to a walk. “He owes you, and if he used to be such a big star—”

  “I can’t.” My feet thud on the treadmill, and I feel the first bead of sweat on my forehead. “Last night he kissed me, and it was just wrong. I can’t risk falling for him again. I can’t forgive him.”

  Cheryl’s treadmill finally stops, and she bends over, holding her knees as she gasps for breath. “I never knew you had so much anger eating you up inside.”

  “I never thought of myself as angry.” I felt sad and despondent. I grieved his loss. But I never felt real anger until he walked back into my life and made me question the choices I’d made in New York. “At least, I wasn’t angry before. But maybe I am a bit now. I’m angry at myself for not fighting for what I wanted. I just accepted that the relationship should end because he wanted it. I moved away, and then I married the first man who was kind and showed an interest in me, because I was young and scared and alone, and I wanted someone to take care of me.”

  “I got married too young,” Cheryl says. “I was only seventeen the first time. I thought I was in love, but I didn’t know what love was.”

  “I thought I knew what love was, and then I realized I was wrong.” I grab my water bottle from the holder and take a long, cool drink. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I was pretty hard on him last night. I’m sure he’s given up and jumped on a plane by now.”

  “I think he’ll be back.” She stands and grabs her towel, patting her face down.

  “How do you know?”

  She grins and lifts her chin in the direction of the door. “Because he’s heading this way.”

  I look up and almost fall off the treadmill. Zack is stalking toward me, and he doesn’t look happy.

  “You were supposed to rest,” he growls, stopping in front of my machine. “This does not look restful.”

  “You remember Cheryl from Symbian.” I gesture at a grinning Cheryl to deflect his anger.

  Zack gives her a curt nod and then scowls at me. “Get down. Now. I’m taking you home.”

  “The doctor said light exercise. I’m barely moving. And I think you’re confusing me with someone who has to do your bidding.”

  “Actually, you’re doing four times the speed I was doing,” an unhelpful Cheryl says. “And you’re sweating. Profusely. Isn’t that dangerous after you bump your head?”

  “Don’t you have to be at work in an hour?” I shoot her what I hope is a death stare, but it just makes her laugh.

  “I do.” She sighs. “As much as I would like to stay and watch the fireworks, I’d better get going. But I will expect a full briefing when you’re back at work.”

  Zack waits until Cheryl is out of earshot before he starts in on me again. “A few days wouldn’t have killed you.”

  “Yes, it would have. I’m already on a downhill slide. I can’t let my fitness level slip.” I increase the speed on the treadmill just to show him he has no hold over me. “If you’re done chastising me for nothing, I have a run to finish.”

  “I need to talk to you.” He folds his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge from beneath the sleeves of his MEFC T-shirt, and I try not to drool.

  “Maybe tomorrow. I can fit you in after my marathon and before I climb Mount Everest.”

  “Now.” He reaches over and hits the emergency stop on the treadmill.

  “Hey. What are you doing?” I glare at him as the machine slows to a stop. “I was just warming up.”

  “You’ll mess up your system if you do cardio in the evening. You won’t be able to sleep. If you don’t sleep, your muscles don’t repair themselves. If your muscles don’t get repaired, you risk injury. Injury means you’re out of the game. Maybe for good.”

  “This was Stan’s idea.” I push the start button. “He’s a professional. He knows more about these things than you.”

  Wham. Zack stops the treadmill again. “No one knows more about these things than me. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Yo! Shilla!” Blade Saw shouts from the doorway. “Sadist and I are going for a drink. You two are the only ones left in the gym. Lock up when you’re done.” He tosses the keys to me, but Zack intercepts and snatches them out of the air.

  “Give me the keys.”

  “We need to talk.” He nods to Sadist and Blade Saw as they head out the door. “But not here.”

  “Why not here? We’re alone.”

  “I want to show you something.” He holds out his hand, and although I know I shouldn’t take it, I do. Warm and firm, his hand envelops mine, holding it tight as he helps me off the treadmill.

  Zack leads me through the gym to Torment’s office. Lights flicker on as we walk, thanks to Redemption’s new energy-saving light system. We stop in front of the glass door leading to Torment’s office, and I peer inside. Torment isn’t sitting in his leather chair behind his huge cherrywood desk, glaring at people through the glass wall of the office we are forbidden to enter on pain of death.

  “If you were looking for Torment, he doesn’t appear to be here,” I point out unnecessarily.

  Apparently, that isn’t a concern for Zack. He tries keys until the lock on Torment’s door clicks open, and then he steps into Torment’s office. The nifty motion-activated lights go on.

  I hold my breath and wait for the apocalypse.

  It doesn’t come.

  “You may not be aware, but this is Torment’s office.” Safely positioned in the hallway, I point to the nameplate on the door. “No one goes into his office when he’s here, much less when he’s away. He’s killed men for less.”

  “I’ve never been one for following the rules.” Zack leans o
n Torment’s desk and toys with Torment’s pens.

  “I feel a bit faint.” I take a step back. “I think I might go outside and get some air.”

  “You are looking kinda pale.” Zack gestures to the leather chair in front of Torment’s desk. “Have a seat.”

  I shake my head and lean against the doorframe instead. “What’s this all about?”

  “What do you see?” He lifts his chin toward the wall where Torment has mounted pictures of all the fighters in the gym who have won title belts or gone pro. I know them all, because I’ve been at Redemption since it was just a warehouse with a makeshift ring and two guys with a dream.

  “Success. Winners. Professional fighters.” I shrug. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

  “Men,” Zack says. “They are all men. How many female Redemption fighters have won title belts or gone pro in the time you’ve been here?”

  “None. But it’s not Torment’s fault. There just aren’t that many women interested in fighting at that level.”

  “But you are,” he counters.

  My pulse kicks up a notch. “I was. But you’ve seen my stats. Things have been going downhill in a big way.”

  “I can get you on that wall,” he says. “I can help you achieve your dream.”

  Puzzled, I frown. “What are you saying?”

  “I can train you, Shay. I can be your coach.”

  My mouth keeps moving as my brain struggles to process what he just said. “I have a coach. Two coaches. Torment and Fuzzy. And Stan is my trainer. I’ve been with them since the beginning. Starting all over again…with you…it’s too big a risk.”

  “What you want is on the other side of your fear,” Zack says. “They got you to where you are, but they can’t get you where you want to go. You are fighting at a new level now. This is where fighters make it or break it. With all due respect to Torment and Fuzzy, they don’t know anything about fighting professionally. That’s why you’ve plateaued.”