Strong Hold

by Sarah Castille

  Zack sidesteps her and joins me and Sadist beside the ring.

  “You’re a black belt,” I say stupidly. Of course he’s a black belt. He started training in Brazilian jiu-jitsu as a teenager in Glenwood, and he blew quickly through the belts even then. More than ten years after he started, he would be at the top of his game.

  “He’s got a black belt in four different martial arts,” Sandy says, joining us. “I had to write up his bio for my parents.”

  Before I can ask why she was writing Zack’s bio, I sense a disturbance in the gym. I glance over Zack’s shoulder and see Torment stalking toward us with his henchmen, Ray “the Predator” Black and Jake “Renegade” Donovan in tow.

  My heart pounds wildly, and I give Sandy a nudge. “Maybe you and Zack should go grab a protein shake at the snack bar and work on that bio. I’m sure he hasn’t told you everything.”

  “Good idea.” She holds a hand out to Zack, but instead of going with Sandy, he steps in front of me, putting his body between me and the oncoming storm.

  Torment stops in front of Zack, but his words are directed at me. “Shilla. I got your text. You wanted to talk to me.”

  Hope flares in my chest, and I step out from behind Zack. Maybe this isn’t about his office after all. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t see Zack’s ring, or maybe the cleaners picked it up, or maybe he hasn’t been in his office this morning.

  “Um, yes. Zack has offered to take some time off recruiting to coach me, and I wanted to talk to you and Fuzz—”

  “It’s a good idea,” Torment says. “Shake things up. It might be just what you need.”

  My tension eases. All okay. “I didn’t want you to feel like he was stepping on your toes or that I didn’t think you and Fuzz were doing a good—”

  Torment cuts me off with a wave. “I want every fighter who walks into Redemption to become the best fighter he or she can be. If this is your path to success, I’m all for it, and I know Fuzz will be, too.”

  “Okay.” My breath leaves me in a rush. “Good. Great. Thank you.” I look over at Zack. “Isn’t that great?”

  If Zack hears me, he doesn’t let me know. Instead, his gaze is fixed on the Predator, who is now warming up in the ring, his lean, ropey muscles flexing and bunching as he stretches. The Predator is the state’s current underground fight champion. He is also a private investigator who sometimes works for Renegade’s attorney girlfriend, Amanda. He and I are good friends. We also had a brief fling, but it didn’t last. He was too intense for me, too dominating, and I was glad when he met Sia, a tattoo artist, who can keep him in line. Now that they have a new baby, I don’t see him very often, but watching him fight is always a treat.

  My skin prickles, and I turn back to Torment. On some unspoken signal, Sadist takes the Predator’s place on Torment’s right side, and Renegade flanks his left. Almost immediately, tension thickens the air.

  “Zack will need a membership if he’s going to be here every day training you,” Torment says. “He’s been coming in and out using the guest pass I gave him when he was representing MEFC.” He holds out a purple membership card, and I frown. Why is he telling this to me and not Zack?

  As if he knows something is wrong, Zack makes no move to take the card. With a snort, Torment turns and tosses it into the ring where it lands at the Predator’s feet.

  “What are you doing?” My voice rises in pitch.

  “If he wants to coach, he needs a membership. If he wants that membership, he’ll have to go and get it.”

  As if on cue, the Predator slams one foot on top of the card and tips his neck from side to side, making it crack.

  Oh. My. God. They want him to fight.

  “Seriously, Ray?” I am so pissed off, I am beyond ring names, although I know I’ll pay the price for my slip. “What is this? Middle school?”

  Torment holds up Zack’s ring. “This is giving someone what they asked for.”

  A challenge. He thinks Zack challenged him by tossing the ring on his desk, but Zack was only protecting me.

  “If you’re annoyed about your office, blame me. I had the keys. I went in. I made the mess.” I take a step toward Torment, and Zack’s arm slams into my chest, pushing me back.

  “Don’t.”

  “You don’t need to protect me.” I push his arm away. “I can handle myself. It was my choice, too.”

  Torment tips his head to the side and frowns. “I’m confused. I’m sure you would never go into my office without my permission—my office, where I keep highly confidential information. That would be grounds for withdrawing your membership at Redemption—the kind of membership Slayer needs if he wants to be your coach.”

  Sandy grabs my arm, her eyes wide. She’s almost as big a gossip as Sadist but with less discretion. “What’s going on? Were you in Torment’s office? With Slayer?”

  I shake her off and glare at Torment. “When did you become such a bully?”

  “I was always a bully. You just didn’t care.”

  Maybe I didn’t before, but I sure do now. Zack can’t fight. After what he went through with Okami, he’ll never step into the ring. I have to think quickly. Egos are involved here. Reputation. And pride. “The Predator has an unfair advantage. He knows the ring. He knows the gym. He has his own equipment. If you want a fair fight, Slayer needs time to get used to Redemption.”

  “Shay…” Zack’s jaw tightens. He’s not happy with me for interfering, but too damn bad. He’s in this predicament because he tried to protect me. Now I’m returning the favor.

  “He needs a membership.” The Predator toes the card along the mat, and I am a heartbeat away from jumping in the ring and wiping that smirk off his face.

  “I have a three-month guest pass at home that I won at the last Christmas party. He can have that.”

  Torment twists his lips to the side, considering. “Three months. Then he loses the membership or enters the ring.” Without further explanation, he turns and walks away. Renegade and Sadist follow after him, like they’re guarding his back, except who would dare challenge Torment?

  The Predator picks up the membership card and waves it at Zack. “Three months isn’t going to change anything. You got the balls or you don’t. Why waste time? Get your pansy ass up here, and I’ll let you kiss my fucking feet.”

  “Don’t listen to him.” I grab Zack’s hand and try to drag him away. “He’s being an ass. Don’t play his game.”

  “Yeah, Slayer. Listen to your woman,” taunts the Predator. “Run away.”

  Zack’s body turns rock solid. I can’t move him an inch. His gaze is locked on the Predator, and I know he is seconds away from making the biggest mistake of his life. He might be physically fit, but I know he’s mentally not ready to get back in the ring.

  “Slayer.” Torment shouts over the clatter of weights and the whir of cardio machines. “Three months. You touch him before then, and you’ll never step foot in Redemption again.”

  I send a silent thank you to Torment for defusing the situation and allowing Zack to save face. In that moment, I hate Torment just a bit less.

  The Predator blows Zack a kiss and climbs out of the ring, making a big show of tucking the membership card in the pocket of his gym shorts.

  “You okay?” I place a gentle hand on Zack’s arm, trying to calm him down. His chest is still heaving, his muscles primed and ready to fight.

  “Fuck.” He shakes my hand off and slams his fist into a nearby punching bag.

  “I’m sorry he put you in that position.”

  Zack slams his fist into the punching bag again, alternating curses with strikes. When he has punched for so long, his gi is wet with sweat, he leans against the bag, panting his breaths.

  “What was that about?” I hand him a towel. Torment has set up water and towel stations throughout the gym and has them restocked on an hourly basis
.

  “I could take him.”

  I suck in my lips, briefly consider and then quickly discard a lie. Zack is an up-front kind of guy. He would want the truth even if it hurt. “You were a great fighter. When I joined Redemption, I watched all your past fights. But the Predator fights on the underground circuit. He’s never been beaten. He turns into an animal in the ring. At your peak, you might have been able to beat him in a sanctioned competition because he doesn’t like rules, but not in an underground ring.”

  “Not the Predator.” He snorts in derision. “Torment.”

  “Torment?” I bite back a laugh. “No one can beat Torment.”

  “I can.”

  My mouth opens to tell him that even at the top of his game, he wouldn’t have been able to beat Torment, but I close it again. What’s the point in sharing that truth with him? What difference does it make if he believes it? He’s never going to have that fight.

  “What’s with the gi?” I tug on his collar, hoping to distract him. “Are you taking a class tonight?”

  “Renegade invited me to teach his jiu-jitsu class with him so I can see what you’ve been learning,” he says in a curt voice. His gaze hasn’t left the ring, although the Predator is long gone.

  “Maybe I should come,” I tease. “Tossing people around and grappling on the mat counts as light exercise, don’t you think?”

  Zack shrugs, and I have a strong feeling he didn’t hear me and an even stronger feeling he’s hurting inside.

  “Maybe after you’re done at jiu-jitsu, we could go grab a protein shake. We don’t have to talk about this, but we should talk about what happened last night.”

  Finally, he tears his gaze away. “Did you change your mind?”

  “Not about the coaching, but—”

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  “No.” I give a relieved sigh. “I’m glad you understand. If we want to keep this professional, then we have to put our personal feelings aside.”

  “If that’s what you want.” His eyes shutter, but not before I see pain flicker across his face.

  “Yes, that’s what I want.”

  He closes the distance between us and cups my cheek in his hand. His gaze drops to my lips, and my body heats to one hundred degrees. “Professional.”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  Zack runs his thumb gently over my bottom lip. My head falls back, and my mouth opens for him.

  “There she is.” He leans down and kisses me so softly, it makes my chest ache.

  “What was that?” I ask as he turns away.

  Zack looks back over his shoulder, and a slow, sensual smile spreads across his face. “A professional kiss.”

  12

  Shayla

  “Your friendly Redemption doctor at your service.” Doctor Death smiles when I walk into the first aid room, still rattled from my conversation with Zack. “Where may I put my hands on you?”

  My heart sinks the tiniest bit. I was hoping to see Makayla for advice as well as a chat. No one understands Torment like she does, and she’s always good for a heart-to-heart. “How about a little professionalism?”

  “I’m always professional,” he huffs. “Doesn’t mean I don’t get to enjoy it.”

  “No hands today.” I sit up on his examination bed. “I have a question. Would jiu-jitsu be considered ‘light exercise’ for someone with a concussion?”

  “No.”

  I mock a frown. “That’s not the answer I wanted to hear.”

  Doctor Death laughs. “I thought you wanted professionalism.”

  “I want to take the jiu-jitsu class tonight.”

  “Hmm.” He pulls out a little flashlight and shines it in my eye. “Follow the light.”

  I do as he asks, and then he gently squeezes my head. “Bump gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anything show up on the CT scan?”

  “No. The emergency room doctor said even the four-day light exercise plan was probably not necessary, but he suggested it out of an abundance of caution, given I was doing MMA.”

  “Very wise, as all doctors are.” He grins. “Headache, blurry vision, sensitivity to light or noise, ringing in the ears, fatigue, trouble concentrating or sleeping, emotional changes like irritability, depression, or anxiety?”

  I shift my weight, and the paper under my thighs makes a betraying crinkle. “Um…no to everything except the emotional bit.”

  Doctor Death smirks. “With respect to the latter, I diagnose a case of an old flame coming back into your life.”

  “Not you, too.” I fold my arms across my chest. “I can’t believe how gossip spreads through the gym. Do people not have anything better to do? Slayer and I are just friends.”

  “And you want to attend the jiu-jitsu class this afternoon for the sake of friendship? Is that right?” He sighs and leans against the counter across from me. “I hope that’s the case, otherwise I’ll have to delete your number from my special ‘Single Ladies’ address book.”

  I slide off the table. “You and me…it’s never going to happen.”

  He sighs again. “I can dream.”

  “Dream about Sandy. She’s your perfect match. I don’t know why you two never got together. She’s unattached at the moment.”

  “That’s our problem,” he says. “We have never been able to coordinate our unattached moments. I’m seeing someone right now. Diane. She works in radiology at the hospital. I think this is the real thing. It’s been two weeks and I’m not bored, so I’m going to have Sia tattoo her name on my ass.”

  I laugh as I reach for the door. “Well then, I plan on coming to your funeral, because the Predator will rip off your arms and legs if he finds out you were alone in a dark room with his wife and nothing on below your waist.”

  “Sia is a professional,” he huffs.

  “Maybe she did that kind of stuff before they were married. But now… If he even hears you talking about it…” I shudder. “I can’t even imagine what he would do. Ripping off your limbs would probably just be the start. You heard the rumors that he used to be in the CIA before he became an investigator. They know all about torture.”

  “Maybe I should get it on my arm,” Doctor Death muses.

  “Maybe give it a bit more time. Two weeks is nothing in the big scheme of things. If it’s true love, it will last.” My heart squeezes in my chest. Did my love last? Is it still there beneath all the hurt and pain?

  Doctor Death snorts. “Good advice from someone as unqualified in the love department as you.”

  “So what about class?” I say, opening the door.

  “If you’re just rolling on the mats, I think you should be fine. We worry about high-impact exercise, contact sports, or anything that might give you a second concussion. Also, keep your heart rate down. Anything above seventy percent of your maximum is a risk.”

  “You’re the best.” I blow him a kiss, and he pretends to catch it and hold it to his chest.

  “I know.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, I’m in the jiu-jitsu dojo, talking to Renegade, when Sandy walks in.

  “I thought Slayer might need a volunteer to help demonstrate the moves,” she says when Renegade lifts a curious eyebrow. Sandy is a striker and has never shown any interest in the submissions, grappling, and floor work we do in jiu-jitsu. She attends classes only rarely and has never progressed past her blue belt.

  I force a smile. “How thoughtful.”

  “You aren’t sleeping with Slayer, are you?” she says, drawing me aside. “I would never get in your way.”

  “No. He’s just my new coach. Why does everyone think I’m sleeping with him?”

  Confused, Sandy frowns. “You slapped him. You wouldn’t have bothered if you didn’t care.”

  “I cared enough to slap him
. That’s it.”

  “Well then, it’s game on for me.”

  A slow, predatory smile spreads across her face, and I suddenly regret my feigned nonchalance. If Sandy and Zack hook up, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  Our class today has a disproportionate number of women, given that women account for only twenty percent of the gym members and only two percent of the fighters. With his Greek-god good looks, Renegade alone is enough to fill a class, but add dark, dangerous Zack, and I’m surprised any men made it in the door.

  I hide in the back while Renegade explains that over ninety-five percent of street fights finish on the ground, so ground-fighting skills are extremely important for self-defense. Taking an attacker to the ground eliminates around eighty percent of their arsenal. Zack cautions that if there is more than one attacker, however, taking the fight to the ground should be avoided at all costs.

  Much to Sandy’s disappointment, Renegade and Zack demonstrate moves on each other. Two gorgeous alpha males, lying on top of each other and rolling around the floor trying to force each other into submission, isn’t at all disappointing to me. I sit back and enjoy the show.

  After the mouth-watering, panty-dampening fight for dominance ends with Zack on top, we pair up. I partner with a newbie named Sue. She is impressed by my purple belt; not so impressed when I put her in a headlock just for fun and to vent some of my Zack-related frustration.

  “Let her go.” Zack crouches beside us and shows Sue how to free her head from between my legs. Then he sends her across the room to work with another newbie, gesturing for me to remain on my back on the mat. As soon as she is gone, his dark eyes harden. He is barely recognizable as the man who kissed me softly behind the punching bag a short time ago. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “I don’t appreciate the swearing,” I huff. “And I’m keeping it light, if you must know. Doctor Death gave me the okay.” I push myself to my elbows when his mouth opens again. “Don’t even think about asking me to leave. I don’t answer to you, Zack. I do what I want.”

  “I realized that when you got involved in something that wasn’t your fight.”