Fighter Daddy: A Bad Boy Secret Baby MMA Sports Romance

by Marci Fawn

  I let the biker go and he stumbles away, holding his hand against himself. I hear him whine something to the new guy, but one look from the lieutenant silences him.

  "What do you want?" the new guy asks.

  "I already told you. I want to see Mr. Brandon."

  "Do you now?" he asks. "If you know anything about my employer, you'll be sure to know he won't be summoned by a guy from the street."

  I'm actually aware of that, yes. But he will make an exception for me.

  "I'll be worth his time."

  "I give you a minute of my time," the lieutenant says coldly. "If it's interesting enough, I'll let you walk out of here and maybe relay your words. If it isn't, well..."

  I consider this. I didn't come here to talk to Brandon's lackeys, but I won't be able to break through his security single-handed either. I figure it's no loss for me to let them know.

  In the weeks Raina's been recovering, I haven't been idle. My first thought was to break my dad and Susan out of Ricky's and go from there. I figured the worst that prick would do was lock Raina up even further. She wouldn't have liked it, being even deeper in his clutches, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make for us both.

  Unfortunately for us, Ricky isn't the brainless asshole I wish he was. As soon as Raina was conscious, he moved Susan and Philip out of the club to keep them out of my reach. I asked Martin to search for them, of course, but alone he can't amount to much. With Ricky holding guns to my family's heads, I absolutely refused Martin calling this in.

  I have to do this my way. His cop mind didn't want to grasp that very easily, but he relented. Good friend. Now he's out there, ready to step in when there's trouble and keeping an eye open for the hostages.

  He hasn't located them, but he did bring me something to work with as a Plan B.

  It occurred to me before, but Ricky is not himself when it comes to Raina. He gets sloppy, messy, and loud. Loud in the way that he's drawing attention to himself. The friends of Philip and Susan are already asking questions. Raina said her Aunt answers her phone when she's in the shower.

  Now there's been weeks of silence. Even from Italy, that's a bit odd. With Raina now mysteriously disappeared and her boss gone, things are getting hot out there. I haven't been home, but I bet there's a few messages on my voice mail too.

  All that means one thing: Ricky is going too far. His plans for us are bringing him too much into the light. He is desperate to keep us on the leash, but I'm no one's dog, and keeping me in check won't work for long. For example, here I am.

  This is a long shot, but I figure Ricky's not too favored with Jack Brandon right now.

  Jack is the boss of bosses. He funds almost every criminal operation in Boston. Unlike Ricky, who is a very public figure for a mob boss, Jack Brandon is... nobody really. He keeps himself in the shadows, directs things from there. But like a spider in the center of the web, he can make them all dance if he wants to.

  I'm betting right now he's not too happy with Ricky's performance.

  "I'm Lee Mason," I tell Brandon's guys. "I'll be fighting Sam Unbroken next Sunday."

  A few of them sneer, others look almost appreciative. The lieutenant grins.

  "No wonder you have a death wish then."

  "Sam's my problem," I tell him. "Ricky Gerrard is your employer's. I can help."

  There, a flash of interest, but he keeps his poker face.

  "He doesn't need help from the likes of you."

  "No," I agree. "But I can make things a hell of a lot easier for him. And I want almost nothing in return."

  Now the lieutenant laughs.

  "You have some nerve, boy."

  "I'll take that as a compliment. Usually guys who threaten me don't understand that."

  He stops laughing and we measure each other up. I know dealing with guys like him is much like how you'd behave with a misbehaving stray, all this barking and posturing bullshit. It makes me look forward to Sam and an honest test of strength.

  "Sit," the lieutenant finally says. "Bar's open."

  So far so good. I order a whiskey while the lieutenant leaves somewhere. I'm left with the other guys and the visiting biker. They all look like brawlers to me. I can almost hear their knuckles itching for my face. If they're as stupid as they look, I might get a decent exercise out of this visit at least.

  As I guessed, I've taken maybe two gulps from my drink when the biker feels up for another round. He's the type that never learns. Idiots like that, they're powered by their belief in themselves. I have never met one whose self-confidence had any basis.

  "Hey you," he growls at me. "You think you're some tough guy, huh? You caught me by surprise before."

  I have to try very hard not to laugh. What a fucking pathetic excuse. It's all the way up there with "I wasn't ready yet."

  I ignore him. Guys like that aren't worth the time of day. He doesn't take the hint.

  "You listenin' to me, pal?"

  I wish I wasn't. My mind's more occupied with what the lieutenant went to do. If he's getting Jack Brandon like I'm hoping, or if he's setting up a firing squad for me. Both are equally likely.

  I hear smashing glass. The biker has broken his glass on the floor.

  "Yeah, I knew that you were a bitch," he says, as if that proves something.

  "Is that supposed to intimidate me?" I hear myself asking.

  I immediately regret it. My only purpose here is to meet the boss and talk some business, not to pick a fight with his thugs. But I can't help it. Ever since I was kid, I never could take someone calling me out. Dad used to say I have a temper. Fuck temper, I have pride. No one, not a lowlife like the biker or a professional fighter, can get away with talking shit about me.

  I turn back to the guys. I doubt any of them hold any special love for the biker, but he's one of them and that's worth more than gold. They'll have his back even if they hate his guts. If I'm going forward with this one, I'm going to have to be prepared for all of them.

  "What did you say?!" the biker's snarling at me.

  The excuse is so fake I almost take the high road. Almost.

  "I said do you think I'm intimidated by a broken glass? Drop it on the floor, it breaks all the same. That's it. You point at gravity and take the credit."

  My words might go over his head a bit, but he understands the meaning all too well. He pulls out a knife and comes at me. Behind him, I see the others move too. I'm trouble in their bar and they're going to put an end to it. Not because of the biker, but because it's all rep. Their boss can't be shown not to have his house in order.

  And I can't allow them to. I have my own reputation and it doesn't involve getting my ass handed to me in a bar fight.

  The knife is long and sharp, with a gleaming serrated edge. The biker seems more proficient with it than he is with his fists. It makes little difference to me. He's pushing me back with wide swipes of his knife, triumph burning in his dark eyes. Thinking he's got the upper hand. I edge closer, dodging under the blade and disarm him with a painful punch against his hand.

  First rule of knife combat: don't drop your fucking knife.

  I kick the blade away, it slides under the counter. Nothing good could come from knifing a guy in a place like this.

  Left unarmed, the biker doesn't even consider giving up. I see fury in his eyes. It amuses me. It's the look of a pouting fucking child who thinks I am being unfair. I took his toy.

  Enough of this nonsense; his buddies are moving in now. I crack my knuckles and punch him in his mustache, feel the bone of his nose breaking and blood spilling over my hand. He stumbles away and I send him off with a roundhouse kick to his teeth. I hear him spitting out a few when he collapses on the floor.

  Others take quicker steps now. They were waiting for the biker to show what he's capable of and it turned out to be less than shit. No, they have to make up for it.

  I back away again, fists raised. Keeping them all firmly in my sights. They fall into the same trap, idiots as they are. I su
ppose on the streets backing away is a sign of weakness, but in real combat, in a real fight, it's a tactic. It gives you room, gives you a second to recuperate, gives you distance to charge. They're rhinos. Once they get going, it's very difficult to stop them, but I'm an expert in that.

  I catch the punch of the first painfully. For him. When I see his fist coming for me, I meet it with my own. I wouldn't say a guy his size has dainty hands, but he does compared to me. Years of training have hardened me and I know how to fucking aim my own limbs.

  He screams in pain, cradling his hand that I know is crawling with pain. Put enough force into it and you can make the other guy feel like they're punching a brick wall.

  A thought occurs to me that Sam Unbroken uses that trick often.

  The next guy is more careful. He wants to kick my legs out from under me, but I am faster. I jump high enough to avoid his leg connecting with mine and land right after, only to stomp my own foot down on his leg. I feel bone break again and the howl is the loudest I've gotten today. I jump off him, catching the arm of the next, and throwing him over my shoulder. He hits a table and goes down with it.

  The next two try to crowd me, but I don't care much for cowards. I allow myself to be caught in the middle of them for a moment, exchanging blows with both, dodging as I'm able. Then I slip out of the trap and grab the closest of them. I catch him in a quick headlock and slam his face down on the counter. He slumps and I turn to his buddy, who's backing away from me.

  What, fun's over already? I was only getting started. I haven't even broken a sweat yet, you fucker.

  "Impressive, Mr. Mason," says a voice that somehow carries over the room despite not being very loud.

  That's how a man speaks who's used to being heard. I look at Jack Brandon approaching. It's interesting to see him at last. I recognize him, but that's all. Everything else about him is fake. Even the name I know him by is fake. I doubt any person in the room knows, including the lieutenant standing dutifully behind him.

  Jack Brandon likes his privacy and he likes his business the same way. In his world, tidiness is everything. He won't hesitate to put me in a body bag, but he'll make sure it isn't crumpled.

  Right now he's observing me over thin-rimmed glasses I doubt he really needs. He's much older than me, but there's still trace of past strength. His hair is silver and so is his expensive suit. Jack Brandon is a man of contradictions, they say. Looks clean, talks politely, and kills you without hesitation.

  "I wish I could say the same about this bunch," I answer.

  He graces me with a small smirk. Good. The best way to deal with tyrants is to make them appreciate you.

  "They're fine," he says dryly. "But I would expect nothing less from the man scheduled to fight Sam."

  He motions for me to follow him to a table, while the bar is being cleaned up miraculously fast. I guess fights are pretty commonplace here.

  "Talk," he tells me when I take a seat. "And maybe we can deal. Don't waste my time."

  I thought long and hard what I might tell this man when I saw him.

  "I don't mistake you for a charity," I say. "I will do my part. In return, I need two favors."

  Raina

  Victor is gone.

  It's amazing what a human being can get used to. For weeks and weeks, I've lived with the constant presence of Victor somewhere in my line of sight. He's there when I use the laptop, because they can't risk me sending e-mails. He's there when I take my hesitant first steps around the basement. At least I get a rest from Victor in the bathroom. Ricky won't allow him there with me. He won't let another man see me naked.

  So when I look at the door and I don't see his figure hulking there, disapproving of everything I do, I have to pinch myself. It has to be a dream, right? Victor hasn't left me alone since I was brought back to Ricky's.

  Right when I'm considering the end of the world as the most plausible explanation, Lee steps in. Every other emotion is immediately overrun by sheer joy.

  I don't know how or why he's here and Victor isn't, but I don't question it.

  All I know is that Lee takes one look at me and dashes across the room to catch me in his arms. It hurts to move so suddenly, but I take the pain gladly. After weeks of only seeing him, I'm back in his arms where I belong. Instantly, I know I can never be without him. There is no way. We have to find a way out of this, but for now I'm okay with him merely being here.

  It hurts, everything hurts in a brilliant, beautiful way. Lee's body against my shivering form, his strong arms caressing my skin with surprising tenderness, his lips brushing against mine. All that with a hungry, desperate passion that leaves me aching all over, but happier than I've ever been.

  His touch sends flashes of electricity through my veins, making me jump and burn for him. Lee's holding me like a porcelain doll, but his control slips and I love every second of it. He doesn't want to hurt me, I can tell, but it's as hard for him to control himself as it is for me.

  "Lee," I finally dare to breathe.

  I blink my eyes several times to make sure he's still there, that saying his name didn't somehow break the spell I'm under.

  He's still there, the same maddening smirk on his lips that I first saw at the dinner party. I kiss him for that, biting his lips and being rewarded by an amused chuckle. Lee combs his fingers through my hair falling loosely over my shoulders.

  "Hey you," he says, smiling. "You look good."

  I laugh and he silences me with another kiss.

  "I don't believe you," I say. "I got shot. I look like someone who got shot."

  "You look gorgeous."

  My heart stops for several seconds. That's Lee for you. He doesn't lie. He says everything he thinks out loud and it's horribly disarming. I want to tell him it's a really cheesy thing to say and that I'm no longer a teenage girl, but I am, I so am. I smile wider than I have in ages. Even my mouth feels weird, like it's no longer used to bending into that position. I can't control myself around him. Lee takes what he wants and my body jumps to his command as quickly as I do.

  "You look good too."

  We kiss, desperate to make up for lost time, changing between gentle and demanding, wanting everything all at once. Finally we have to pull apart and there is a serious look in Lee's eyes.

  "How are the both of you?" he asks, tracing his fingers over my belly.

  "Fine, I think," I say, smiling despite myself. "It would be better if there was a doctor I could talk to about this, but I haven't noticed anything odd. I think we're doing good."

  I sound so proud, saying that and for a second there, I feel the glow people talk about. Lee is watching me with a burning gaze and it's the happiest I've been since the last night we spent together.

  My eyes travel over his body too and I see that he's definitely been training. He looks positively stunning.

  It's true. Lee always looks incredible to me, but today... maybe it's the fact I haven't seen him properly for a while. Dark passion in his eyes tempts me to go for another kiss. His body is too perfect to only look at. I have to trace every muscle, every inch of him. My fingers travel over familiar paths and I moan. I want more, so much more.

  "Are you here to make me feel better?" I ask teasingly.

  I was actually joking, making fun of the porn movie cliché of hospitals and sexy doctors who fuck their patients better. But Lee grins at me and pulls his shirt off. I am so mesmerized by the physical perfection presented to me that I don't protest.

  I want to lick him, touch him, press him against my body to feel the sparks of pleasure he brings to life in me. Lee helps me get my shirt over my head. The room is slightly colder than I'd like and I shudder, making Lee lick his lips.

  "Fuck, you're hot," he says.

  I pull him closer, kissing him deeply as he unhooks my bra and pulls it off me. In his arms, finally. He sits on the bed, positioning himself so I don't have to move much. I rub myself slowly against his body, feeling my nipples get harder, pressed against his firm chest. I ki
ss his shoulders, caressing the muscles on his chest, longing to trace them with my tongue.

  The flesh under my fingers is hard and unyielding, rippling when Lee moves. He gropes my tits, pushing them together and rubbing them against each other, kissing my nipples and licking around them. It drives the last of my common sense from my mind.

  I'm drifting, flying in a lovely dream that's only about to get better. Lee pushes me onto my back and pulls off my pants. I watch him, trembling under the intensity of his gaze. He doesn't stop until I'm lying naked before his eyes and then he climbs on top of me, covering me with his body.

  "You better not scream," he whispers to me. "We can't be caught."

  I nod, the anticipation turning my blood to fire. The danger is getting ahold of me again. The door is closed, but it's not locked. Anyone could come by, Victor could return. I know I have to be silent, but fuck, it's difficult. Lee moves down my body to lie on his stomach between my thighs, pushing my legs apart.

  I see the tattoos dance on his back, see the delicious shape of his ass, feel his wide shoulders between my thighs. It's enough to make me wet already. If he touches me, I don't know if I can—

  The moan escapes my mouth, a treacherous whimper that is magnified a thousand times in my head as I freeze, waiting for someone to open the door. But it stays closed and looking down, I see Lee is anything but mad. He frowns at me playfully, but I don't think he is upset.

  Why else would he repeat that, holding my gaze with those stormy eyes of his?

  He bends his head forward and licks my clit again, slowly and teasingly. I will my body not to twist under his hands, because it hurts, but it barely listens. I'm no longer in control, Lee's tongue is, and it makes me twitch and shiver and arch gently, biting my tongue to stop the cries of pain and pleasure.

  He's helping me, strong hands holding my hips down on the bed, but I find ways to surprise us both. It's so good, I have to pull up the blanket and bite down into it not to howl in pleasure. Lee's inflicting the worst kind of torment on me and I love it. His fingers are scissoring inside me, two of them brushing against the spot in my pussy, sending pulsating shots of ecstasy right to my core.