Fighting Dirty

by Lori Foster

  “But...” She gave Armie a sideways look. “What if I need to—”

  Armie hauled her in to his side. “You’re staying here, right?” Then to Cannon: “She’s staying here. And if she needs to go to the house, I’ll go with her.” To Rissy, he emphasized, “I’ll go with you.”

  Blinking in confusion, Rissy said, “Okay, sure. Honestly, that suits me just fine.”

  And that, Cannon knew, was as much proof as he or Armie needed that she really had seen or heard someone. “I’m going to check it out and change the passcode,” Cannon told her. “Maybe add some wireless cameras. I don’t know yet, but I’ll share everything with you as soon as I’m done. In the meantime, I want to know you won’t be anywhere near there without Armie or me.”

  “Got it.” She abandoned Armie to give Cannon a tight hug. “Thank you.”

  After lifting her off her feet in a return hug, Cannon paused. “I almost forgot to tell you, Armie. There’s a camera crew coming to the rec center today.”

  He froze. “For what?”

  “They’re doing some interviews for the Sports Talk cable show.”

  “Wow,” Rissy said. “That’s...huge.”

  “Who,” Armie asked, “are they interviewing?”

  Cannon shrugged. “They’ll talk to me, to Denver and Stack, maybe do some cameos with Leese and Justice, Brand and Miles—and then they want to film you working out for a bit. They’ll wrap it up with asking you some questions about your upcoming fight.”

  Armie dropped back against the counter with a groan. “This freaking day just keeps getting better and better.” He popped his neck. “What’s next? An aneurysm?”

  Rissy stroked him again, Cannon grinned, and neither of them misunderstood the facetiousness of his comment. Armie was still adjusting to this new facet of his career.

  Cannon was confident he’d ace it all the way.

  * * *

  AN ANEURYSM WOULD have been easier, Armie decided, when the camera crew spent more than two hours watching him. And since they’d interviewed everyone else already, it was nearing the end of the day.

  Havoc and Simon had been around, both smug, and they seemed to enjoy seeing him under the spotlight. In fact, from what he’d gathered, Simon had arranged the whole gig.

  The dick.

  This business of having a manager was going to take some getting used to.

  On the upside, he liked Havoc as a coach. Never had Armie shied away from workouts. The more variety, the bigger the challenge, the better he liked it. Havoc saw things Armie might not have caught on his own, and he gave a different perspective than Cannon, who had known Armie forever.

  Truthfully, he knew he was in better shape, sharper and faster, than he’d ever been. Not that he’d ever been a slacker, but Havoc had taken him to a new level. He liked it, and for the first time he was starting to anticipate the upcoming fight.

  Not that he’d admit it to anyone.

  With the fanfare of a camera crew, the rec center stayed extra crowded.

  He could take it—by ignoring everyone, including the cameraman.

  What he couldn’t ignore was Rissy. The second she walked in he spotted her and not once, even while going through drills, did he lose track of her. She hung with Leese at the desk, occasionally laughing, occasionally leaning into Leese—

  “Get your head out of your ass, man. People are filming you.”

  Armie turned back to Cannon, dodged a jab and delivered one of his own. While he sparred, he thought about Leese. From what he remembered, Leese was looking for a new place to stay. Rissy had the entire downstairs of her house that she used to rent out to Cherry.

  “Are you concentrating?” Cannon asked.

  “Yeah.” He threw a combo that had Cannon backing up until he hit the cage. He caught Armie in a clench—and down they went.

  “Concentrate harder,” Cannon said.

  Laughing, Armie twisted fast and got Cannon’s back. Cannon exploded out of it, but Armie took him down again.

  Back and forth they went, splitting the dominant positions until Simon called time.

  It was with some surprise that Armie saw Harley Handleman step in. Harley “Hard to Handle” Handleman took life far too seriously. He was also known to be a kinky bastard—that is, before he married. But Armie knew that wasn’t the sort of thing a guy just shook off.

  “You and Cannon are too evenly matched,” Simon said. “Harley agreed to lend a hand.”

  Armie felt himself grinning ear to ear. He’d followed Harley’s career, knew he’d had a shit ton of bad luck when it came to getting the belt, but he’d finally done it. Armie admired him.

  He held out a fist. “Nice to meet you, Handleman.”

  “Same,” Harley said as he tapped his padded knuckles to Armie’s. “Simon dragged me down for the promo—and since I’ve fought Carter, he wanted us to go through some series.”

  “I’m honored.” So that was another upside to hitting the big time with the SBC—meeting the veteran fighters that he’d admired for years.

  “Carter switched weight classes when he couldn’t beat me,” Harley said in a matter-of-fact way as they walked to the center of the cage. “Since then, he’s had some success at middleweight.”

  “He’s good.” Armie swigged some water, then replaced his mouthpiece. “But then, I wouldn’t want to compete with a clown.”

  “Carter’s not a clown. I like him. And yeah, he’s good.”

  With too many people watching, Harley took Armie through some different moves and gave him new instruction.

  When Armie avoided being kicked, Harley said, “You know Carter’s a leftie.”

  “Yup.” Carter being left-handed meant he had to adjust his automatic inclinations. Most fighters found it natural to circle to the left, but for Carter, he needed to go clockwise, not counterclockwise.

  “Also,” Harley said, “he’ll kick to the body, kick to the body, go to the liver. He might do that for two rounds, then he’ll fake to the body but go upstairs to the head, so it’s doubly important you circle away from his dominant leg.”

  “Got it.”

  Simon stepped in. “We’ll get him sparring more with a leftie, just to bone up on it.”

  When they finally called it quits, the guy holding the mic was waiting for him.

  And Merissa was now surrounded by Leese, Miles, Brand and Justice.

  Rather than make him jealous, Armie appreciated the fact that she’d always been family to the guys. In their own ways, they each loved her—and why not? Rissy was pretty damned lovable. For years now she’d cooked for them, fed them the desserts they knew they shouldn’t have, laughed with them and generally just loved them all back.

  Speaking of desserts, if Simon knew that Rissy indulged him once a week—brownies, pie, cupcakes—he probably wouldn’t like it. But diet or no, she was such a great baker, he couldn’t resist her weekly treats.

  Hell, he couldn’t resist her—ever.

  “What do you say?” the interviewer asked. “You ready to do this?”

  “Sure.” He let Simon open his fingerless gloves. “Here, or somewhere else?”

  Looking shrewd, the guy asked, “You want privacy?”

  “Doesn’t matter to me. Just asking for your preference.”

  “Then let’s do it here.”

  Great. Everyone was back to paying attention, gathering around for the spectacle, and damned if he didn’t see a few of the women he used to know hanging around. That didn’t bode well. Especially when one of them, Kizzie, wiggled her fingers at him in a teasing wave.

  After drying the sweat on his face, Armie said, “Let’s get to it, then.”

  It took just a few minutes of setup, and then the interview started with questions about his training methods, the rec center, his new coach, manager and the contract with the SBC. Some of it was the usual BS questions about whether or not he’d win—like any guy would say, “No, I’ll lose for sure”—and then he was asked about his long-term p
lans.

  “I don’t make long-term plans. I mean, ideally I’ll do well and advance. And to the extent that I can, I’ll do my best to make that happen.”

  “What about your personal life? Any special ladies?”

  Without faltering, Armie said, “All ladies are special, each in her own unique way.”

  The females in the audience wolf whistled and cheered.

  The guy grinned, especially when Kizzie drew attention to herself by throwing him a kiss.

  Shit. The last thing he needed was anyone interviewing her, since Kizzie’s kink tended to be pretty far out there.

  He’d said it to keep the focus off Merissa; his relationship with her wasn’t anybody’s business, and given the looming threats, he didn’t want to toss her name around anyway.

  When Rissy went all stiff and pissed off and the guys formed a protective barricade around her, he realized his mistake.

  Should have just called her up front with him.

  “Let’s talk about that,” the interviewer said with barely banked glee. “You’re known as a ladies’ man.”

  “Who’ve you been talking to—besides me?”

  Loving it, the man laughed. “So you boast?”

  “I don’t hide from who I am.” Or rather, who he’d been—because now he was a one-woman man, at least for as long as Rissy would have him.

  “You’ve got one hell of a rep as a fighter, but an even bigger rep for—”

  Letting his irritation be known, Armie cut the guy off, saying, “Look, how about we agree to keep this about the fight?”

  “But your hedonist rep is so interesting.”

  “Yeah? To you? Sorry, dude, I’m only into chicks.”

  The interviewer went red-faced.

  Kizzie, always outrageous, yelled, “It’s the truth, because I tried.” When everyone laughed, she added, “He agreed to three women, but guys were not invited.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Just beyond Kizzie were the other two women, already high-fiving each other. He didn’t dare look at Rissy, or hell, Cannon.

  Next to him, Simon started grumbling something about idiot boys who put no limits on gluttony. Then, bless him for being a terrific manager, he stepped in and took over.

  “Tell you what, Fred, you don’t ask my fighter any more personal questions, and I won’t start sharing your personal business.”

  Armie had no idea what Simon knew about the interviewer, but that shut him up real quick. He did a wrap-up by asking Armie two more fight-related questions, then closed it down.

  Thank God.

  Kizzie started toward him, so he made a strategic retreat for the showers. With any luck the ladies would be gone by the time he finished and was ready to go.

  When he stepped out of the shower, Leese was there, arms crossed, one shoulder propped against the lockers.

  Armie eyed him as he dried off. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  “You embarrassed her.”

  “Was trying not to.”

  “You failed.”

  Armie shook his head. “You’re lucky I’m not a possessive ape like Denver or I’d flatten you.”

  “I’d almost welcome you trying.” When Armie glanced up at him in disbelief—because they both knew he’d wipe up the floor with Leese—Leese said, “I’d get in a hit or two. And that’d make me feel a whole hell of a lot better.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” He stepped around Leese and headed for his clothes. “So you and Rissy are good friends, right?”

  “Why does that feel like a loaded question?”

  “Because it is.” As Armie dressed, he explained about her house, the break-in, and how he knew Leese was looking for a new place to stay.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Why not?” Armie watched him. “You’re not afraid to be there.”

  “No.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “For one thing,” Leese said, his anger really starting to show, “if things don’t work out between the two of you, she’ll be moving back home. And that would be awkward as shit. Before today, I figured you’d wise up and make a go of it, but given the display you just put on, I’m now having my doubts.”

  “Don’t,” Armie said quietly. “Don’t doubt me, and don’t ever think there’ll be an open field.”

  “Friends,” Leese stressed again. “Only friends.”

  “Because you know she wants me! Otherwise you’d be all over it and you know it!”

  Leese looked at him, smirked and settled himself comfortably against the lockers again.

  “Admit it.”

  “Maybe. So? She is hung up on you. End of story.”

  “Damn right it’s the end of the story.”

  “I thought you weren’t a jealous ape.” When Armie started to fume, Leese casually added, “And you’re pissed at yourself for that idiotic reaction out front, so stop taking it out on me.”

  “You,” Armie growled, “followed me.”

  “Only to tell you that Rissy wanted to storm off, but I dissuaded her. You can thank me.”

  Armie paused, then nodded. “Thanks.”

  “And also to tell you that you have a gaggle of women out front hoping to get a drop of fame thanks to their—” Leese coughed theatrically “—association with you.”

  Quailing, Armie asked, “They’re still here?”

  “Five or six of them.” Leese quirked a brow. “Seems your fan club wants to intrude into the rec center now that a camera is involved.”

  “Shit.”

  With great pleasure, Leese said, “I heard one of them say you were into bondage, but another argued it was threesomes.”

  “Who?”

  “Blonde, dark eyes. Likes to talk loud.” Mocking her, Leese said, “He’s totally into ménage à trois,” in a ridiculously female voice. “Know her?”

  “Yeah, that might be Liv.”

  “Might be? How many threesomes have you had?”

  Armie pulled on a shirt that said: Sex Instructor. First lesson free.

  “That’s not going to help,” Leese pointed out.

  “I’ll zip up my sweatshirt.”

  “Yeah, that’ll fix everything.”

  Tired of being needled, Armie rounded on him. “Do you want to live in her place or not?”

  Leese took his time before giving a shrug and saying, “Sure. It’s nice, and if it’s the same as what Cherry paid, it’s plenty affordable. But isn’t that Rissy’s decision to make?”

  “I’ll talk to her about it.” After he got her to cool down. Then he’d clear it with Cannon, too. With his sweatshirt zipped up to his chin and his gym bag slung over his shoulder, Armie headed out with Leese. Rissy stood across the room, arms folded tightly, eyes narrowed. Pissed. And no wonder.

  The other women remained, too, and they’d obviously been watching for him. Worse, the cameraman had hung around, as had the dude with the nosy questions, no doubt hoping for some extra footage.

  The second she spotted him, Kizzie pounced, cutting him off halfway to Rissy.

  Walking her fingers up his chest, she purred—like literally purred—as she lowered the sweatshirt zipper. “You haven’t answered my calls.”

  Normally, with Kizzie, that particular tone was invitation enough. But that was before he’d hooked up with Rissy. Now Kizzie, and pretty much every casual hookup, just felt smothering.

  Armie caught her wandering hand. “Nope, I haven’t.”

  “Love the shirt.” She lowered her lashes. “I’ll take a lesson.”

  It wasn’t easy not to grin at her outrageous comment. “You’ve had all the lessons you’re going to get.” He tried to step around her, but she hugged up to his arm, so he stopped rather than drag her along. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Kizzie, honey, you’re a smart girl. You know this isn’t happening.”

  “But I already promised you.”

  Armie sighed. “Promised me for what?”

  “My girlfriend had a bad breakup an
d I told her I knew just how to make her feel better.”

  The grin won out. “Me?”

  “You do have a way of making a woman blissfully happy.”

  “Kizzie—”

  Leese gave him a shove, almost knocking him off his feet since he hadn’t been prepared for it. Hell, he’d forgotten Leese was even with him.

  Kizzie went wide-eyed in disbelief.

  Slowly, Armie turned to his friend. “I wasn’t backsliding, damn it. I was just about to explain.”

  “I couldn’t tell for sure,” Leese said with a shrug. “But either way, your time is up.”

  Armie didn’t understand until suddenly Rissy was there glaring at him—and thanks to her height, it was a direct hit, her gaze to his. Now what? Kizzie sized her up and smirked. “Don’t tell me this is the reason you’re turning me down?”

  Eyes mean and mouth firm, Rissy stared down at the smaller woman—specifically, the way she had her boobs all squashed up to his arm.

  “Oh, uh...” Changing her tune, Kizzie rapidly disengaged, which made Leese laugh.

  She pivoted her ire to him, looked him over and apparently changed her mind yet again. “Hi,” she said, purring once more.

  Leese grinned. “Hi, yourself.”

  Rissy rolled her eyes.

  Not being a complete idiot, Armie slipped his arm around her and drew her into his side. “I was just coming to get you.”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice clipped. “That’s exactly how it looked.”

  “One second, okay?” He didn’t turn her loose, but he did lean in to whisper in Leese’s ear.

  Kizzie smiled slyly as he did so.

  “Got it?” Armie asked.

  Leese’s brows went up. “Seriously? You did that?”

  “I’m not shy. If you are, run now.”

  Gaze glued to Kizzie, Leese said, “No, I’m far from shy.”

  Satisfied, Armie said, “Leese, meet Kizzie. Kizzie, meet Leese.” He gestured between them, making a sign of the cross, and waved. “With my blessing.”

  Rissy still wasn’t amused. “What in the wor—”

  He kissed her. Not because the interviewer watched, even though they had the camera aimed at him and gossip would abound. He kissed her because he had to. Because after all of that, he’d needed the feel of her mouth under his.