by JJ Knight
“I know.”
“It’s lose-lose all the way around. There’s a reason for the rules, the hierarchy.”
“I get that.”
He sighs against the window, fogging up the glass. “I didn’t handle that one right either. I should have let the managers deal with it.”
Most of the money is in a pile now. I stand up and walk over to Colt to wrap my arms around his waist. My cheek fits against the center of his back. “I’m sure you did what you had to do.”
“He showed up at one of the televised segments between me and another fighter.” Colt bangs his fist against the glass. “You know how those things can go. You’ve seen it.”
“I have.”
“Striker jumps the table, tries to pick a fight with me.” Colt reaches down and finds my hip behind him, squeezing it. “I’m sure the footage is still out there.”
“What happened?”
“The announcer got all excited and acted like Striker was getting to me.”
“Some of them suck.” Colt’s body is warm and unyielding as I hold on to him.
“They have their personalities. But Striker just wasn’t experienced in the game. He came up and started throwing jabs.”
I squeeze his waist. I picture a boy version of Lani, buzzing around Colt like a hornet. “You took him out?”
“With a single blow. He crumpled to the floor like a paper doll.” Colt leans his head on the glass. “I hated that it happened. I didn’t go for that strike. It just happened.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Right after Annie left. It was a shitty time for me.”
He stands up straight and turns around. “I thought all that was behind me. Behind us.”
“We’re going to get there,” I say.
He pulls me against him. “There’s always going to be something. One thing about heading to the top, there’s always someone trying to bring you down.”
I remember Buster saying the same thing when I’d only worked for him a few days. “I’m up for it,” I say. “Like Nate always says, ‘Screw the bozos.’”
This gets a real laugh out of Colt. “I’m with Nate on this one.”
Chapter Fifteen
My second fight is nothing like the first, when I had no fans of my own. So many people cram into Buster’s addition that even the girls I’m training have to stand in the back. Colt and Nate and I wait in the curtained-off section. I think Colt will be annoyed at how primitive the setup is compared to his big venues, but he seems elated.
“Now THIS is fighting!” he keeps saying.
Nate wraps my hands, his cigar hanging from his mouth. “Not like those slick places you’re used to, eh, Gunner?”
“Surely you started at the bottom,” I say. The rumble of the crowd outside has me a little more anxious than at my first match against Mad Mary.
Nate gives a big harrumph. “The Cure wouldn’t let Gunner have any seedy old place.”
Colt pushes back the curtain to look out. “We’re going to have to move your next fight,” he says. “No way you’ll fit the crowd in here.”
I try to stay centered. Diva Delaney is going to attempt to stay a step ahead of me, raining punches and keeping away from any knockout blows I might deliver.
Nate shoves the gloves on my hands over the tape. “You got this, Hurricane?”
I nod. “Watch for a hole in her pattern, and take her out in one blow.”
“Not as many knockouts in female MMA,” Colt says.
Nate pounds his shoulder. “There’s plenty. This here girl’s gonna be one of them.”
Buster sticks his face through the gap in the curtain. “You ready, Jo?”
I smack my gloves together.
The roar of the crowd when I come out, followed by Colt, is too much for the small place. I decide not to look out over the mass of chairs and people standing and jostling for a view. My focus stays tight, on my gloves, the edge of the cage, and then, the stairs. I pull off my sweats and hand them to Colt. I had imagined I would make some joke about him being my ring boy, but I find I’m too intent on the fight for a stray comment.
Colt understands and silently takes my jacket and pants, like a normal assistant would.
Nate walks around the cage, trying to yell to me over the crowd. I might not be able to hear him as well as before. I wonder if Colt has this problem in the big matches. Maybe eventually you don’t need that voice to help you through. Maybe it’s already in your head.
I’m not there yet, and now my nerves jangle, a curl of anxiety in my belly.
I take the steps up. Diva Delaney is already in one corner near her trainer, jumping up and down like a rabbit. She’s got her hair braided into coils. Her fight suit is all gray, adding to the bunny effect. Now that I see her in real life and not a video, I think I might have a few pounds on her. If it comes to a ground and pound, I will have an advantage.
I stand next to Nate, who talks to me through the cage. “Don’t let her tire you out. She’ll be all over the mat, but don’t chase her. Let her come to you.”
The ref motions us over. The room quiets down as Diva and I move to the center of the cage.
“I want a good clean fight,” he says.
The bell clangs, and Diva is a whirling dervish, circling me, punching air. I don’t move forward or back, just pivot with her, watching her hands.
Her arms are shorter than mine, so I can deflect her and still get jabs in. I feel a little worried about her. She doesn’t have a lot of strength. She gets in a blow to my ribs, and I barely even notice.
When she shifts to the right, I have plenty of time to step back and deliver a hard kick that sweeps her legs.
She falls straight to the ground.
The crowd roars. I know I can jump on her and finish this immediately. But I don’t. I’m feeling fine, and I want to learn more about her, get more minutes in the cage under my belt.
Still, I know I can’t ignore her fall. The audience won’t allow it. So, I step over and jab her pretty hard in the gut.
But I guess this motivates her. She jumps to her feet and doubles her speed, raining punches on me. Then she gets a really good blow to the side of my face.
While her hand is high, I nail her with a left jab in the ribs. When she drops her arm in response, I just do it. I deliver the most standard, basic, beginner move there is. Cross jab to her chin.
She stumbles. I assess her, trying to decide if I need to follow up. She takes two more steps back. The crowd is screaming. The ref closes in. I give her a moment, see if she’s going to recover. But she drops to her knees and signals submission.
The ref calls the win.
I drop my arms. I didn’t hear a word Nate might have said. I assessed this fighter and found a way to win, cleanly and simply. My adrenaline soars, and I feel elation so high that I think I can float right out of the cage.
The roar in the room is deafening. I turn to look for Colt. Nate is heading into the cage. Finally I spot Colt kneeling near the stairs. I am so overcome that he is there that I’m sure my face registers the emotion. He nods at me. He gets it.
The ref grabs my glove and lifts it in the air. Nate takes the other and lifts it. I look out over the crowd and think back to that day when I decided to do this. I’ve gotten here. I’ve made it.
Chapter Sixteen
Everyone wants to go out to dinner like before. Despite my anxiousness to get alone with Colt, I let Nate and Buster convince us to go to some Italian joint a few blocks down from the gym.
This dinner is completely different from the last one. Colt is here, holding my hand and beaming at me the whole time. Zero has Angel. Colt’s trainer Killjoy is there, good-naturedly ribbing Nate about his training methods, insisting my hands are still too high.
Only Lani is missing. I know she’s out there, and Annie. I wish I could contact them, just get all this muck out of the way.
Colt leans close to my ear. “I know what you need,” he whispers.
Heat shoots through me. “How do we escape?”
He angles his head toward the back door by the bathrooms. “Ever had a fantasy about being taken in an alley?”
“Colt!” I say it too loud, and the others at the table stop talking, then shake their heads. They have us pegged by now.
“Follow me in two minutes,” he says and stands. “Be back in a sec,” he says to the others and heads to the bathrooms. I watch him weave through the tables full of late-night diners. Instead of going in the men’s room, though, he pushes through the outside door under the red exit sign.
I flash a smile at Zero and Angel, who are sharing a plate of spaghetti, Lady and the Tramp style. I would groan at them, but I know I’m not any different with Colt. I like to think that my being happy made Zero feel it was okay to take a closer look at Angel.
I push my chair away from the table. I decide not to announce my departure, but just wind my way across the room. I don’t look back as I go through the exit door.
When I peek out, strong arms grab me and drag me through. By instinct, I kick and fight against the strong hold. When I register that it’s Colt, I decide to fight even harder. My elbow lands in his belly, but he’s ready, tense and rock hard.
“It’s like that, is it?” He growls and sweeps my ankles with his foot. I’m knocked off my feet. Instantly, I’m in the air, tossed over his shoulder.
Now I feel like giggling, destroying the whole ruse. I bang my fists on his back. “Hey, you’ve done this move before.”
He spanks me, and I kick my feet against his thighs, trying to hit a good spot. He walks a few steps along the back side of the building and leans over to set me down.
“That’s better —” I can’t even finish before he’s shoved me against the wall, his mouth crushing into mine.
The alley is quiet and mostly dark. A feeble light over the back door is yards away now. The other tenants of this line of shops are closed up tight. My breathing speeds up. This sort of scene was once something from my nightmares. But now, I’m completely changed. I want this, here, with Colt. Dangerous. Outside. Rough.
His hands go beneath my sweater to cup my breasts. Even this feels too tender, too romantic, so I tense up to take a knee to him. Without even breaking the kiss, he recognizes my plan and blocks the blow. His hand grabs me between the legs and squeezes hard in response. The seam of my jeans presses into my folds, sparking a thousand shards of pleasure to shoot through me.
I’m still warm and flexible from the fight, so Colt lifts me and presses my knees wide. He thrusts against me until I ache for it to be real, to get these clothes out of the way. For the first time in my whole life, I wish for a skirt.
Colt jerks open the snap of my jeans. His hand dives inside, sliding over my belly and down. His fingers curve up into me. I can sense how wet I am. He plunges into me, making me cry out.
The wall is rough against my back, and I can feel bits of peeling paint sticking to my sweater. I don’t care if I destroy it. I just want Colt to finish this, to get inside me. I reach between us, but he grabs my hand.
He withdraws his fingers from inside me and licks them. I can barely breathe, and my heart is pounding in my ears.
Colt whips me around and jerks my jeans and panties to my knees. I hear a quiet jingle of his belt, then he’s pushing me over, my hands on the wall.
In one swift thrust he’s inside. He groans behind me, and I know what he feels. Relief, ecstasy, need. He reaches around to thumb my nub. Our bodies crash together with violent power. My arms start to shake, but I hang on.
He begins to shudder behind me, and I let loose everything, tightening against his hand and body. The orgasm spreads out like a central blast. It ripples through me, and I start to collapse, weak legged, arms like a rag doll.
Colt catches me and holds me tight. He slips out, and the cold air sears my skin where we were joined. He presses his face into my braids. “You still amaze me every day, my Jo,” he says.
I’m not sure I can speak. My body is a contradiction. Elation and exhaustion. Invincible and vulnerable. Sated and yet still wanting more.
Colt leans me against the wall and works my jeans back up. I turn around, and he folds me into his embrace. “We were meant to find each other,” he says.
I nod against his chest. Despite everything that is going on, I know I believe in that.
Chapter Seventeen
The dinner doesn’t break up until almost one in the morning. I’m exhausted but trying not to show it.
Everyone splits up: Nate and Buster to their cars, Killjoy in a taxi to the suites where a lot of Colt’s staff is living, Zero and Angel to one apartment or the other.
Colt and I walk the few blocks to his Harley, still parked behind Buster’s.
“Long day,” Colt says, squeezing my hand.
“I hope you’re planning on sleeping in a little,” I say. Colt likes to start training early now that he also takes an hour or so each day to manage administrative stuff, things his father’s staff once did. Weekends are generally no exception.
“That sounds like a plan,” Colt says. “This has been one hell of a week.” He pauses to let an alley cat jet across the sidewalk in front of us and disappear into the dark between buildings.
“Lots of good changes, though,” I say. A streetlamp sputters overhead. There aren’t many people around at this time of night, and the sidewalks are empty.
“Definitely. The staff will get settled. We’ll find another place for you to hold your fights. Then a trip to Vegas for my next match.” We stand on a corner waiting for the light to change even though there isn’t any traffic to watch out for as we cross. The cafe where Zero works is locked up and dark. “It’s going to be busy.”
The blacked-out windows of Buster’s Gym seem menacing this late. We turn down the side street to walk up behind it. It’s hard to imagine how jammed with cars and bikes it was earlier this evening, before my fight with Diva Delaney.
“I wonder how I’ll feel after my first loss,” I say. “Seems like it would be depressing.”
Colt lifts my hand to his lips. “You still get that adrenaline rush. Even if you’re hurt or injured, you still feel it.”
We turn the corner behind the building.
And stop dead.
Standing around Colt’s Harley are several people. Colt pulls me tight against him.
The light is pretty low, but I recognize Lani right away. And Annie.
Colt must see her too, because he tenses up. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks.
Annie knows he’s talking to her. She breaks away from the others. “Hello, Colt.”
“Fifty grand wasn’t enough for you to disappear for good?”
Annie juts out a hip, arms crossed. She’s dressed all in black. Jeans. Hoodie. Her hair is tied back. Everyone is dressed in black. Like a goth circus. My anxiety rises. This can’t be good.
I look at the others. God, one of them is Parker! I’m flushed with shock. He acted so nice before his fight. I was duped then too. They’ve planned all of this for a long time. I don’t know the other boy, but he’s pretty buff. Probably a fighter.
Two fighter guys. Two fighter girls. Four of them. And two of us.
But one of us is Colt. He must be assessing the situation too, because Annie asks him, “You having a good night?” and he doesn’t answer.
Lani walks up beside Annie and drapes her arm over her shoulder. “Have you learned to lower those fists yet?” she asks me with a laugh. “I’m not sure why everyone thinks you’re the best thing since Ronda Rousey.”
I don’t answer either but step away from Colt so we have room for whatever’s next. He lets me go. He knows he can’t just protect me. We have to be ready as a team.
The other guy moves close enough for me to see that he must be Lani’s brother. He’s got the same dark hair as Lani, shaved close on the sides.
“We meet again, Gunner McClure.” He laughs, and it’s like a dog wheezing. Tatto
os snake up from his black jacket and curl over his neck. They don’t match his boyish face. He looks like a kid dressed up as a biker for Halloween.
“What’s your game here, Striker?” Colt asks. “We’ve had a long night, and we’re just grabbing my bike to head home.”
“Oh, you mean this one?” Striker turns to it and kicks in the headlamp. Plastic splinters onto the pavement, and the bulb shatters.
Colt doesn’t flinch.
Parker frowns but stays where he is, arms crossed.
I can’t believe he’s here. He has a career to protect. “Parker?” I say. “What are you doing with these people?”
Parker doesn’t seem comfortable, his mouth turned down in a grimace.
Striker knocks out both of the motorcycle’s side mirrors.
“All right. You’ve had your fun,” Colt says, “so back off.”
Only Striker moves. “You took out a fighter at a press conference, asshole,” he says, stepping up to within a foot of Colt.
I can feel the tension vibrating off them both.
“I didn’t intend to lay you out,” Colt says. “It was a bad call on my part.”
Striker huffs. “The league should have cut you for that. Taken me.”
“It doesn’t work that way.” Colt stares straight at him.
“I’m ready to take you on,” Striker says. “Should we do it right here?”
I can feel the snap in Colt’s patience. I want to reach out, squeeze him, keep him calm. But I’ve seen him blow. I know about how far he can be pushed.
“You’ve made your point,” Colt says. “We’ll take it to the cage when you’ve gotten there.”
Lani snorts out a laugh. “We’ll see about that.”
Parker seems anxious. “That’s enough,” he says. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Then run your pansy ass out of here,” Striker says.
Parker comes up next to Lani. “What are you doing?”
“Just having a little fun,” Lani says. “Don’t worry about it.”
“This doesn’t count as fun,” Parker says.
