Redemption

by Tia Lewis

  Redemption

  A Bad Boy MMA Fighter Romance

  Tia Lewis

  Salted Pen Publications

  Contents

  Mailing List

  Books by Tia Lewis

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peak: Revived: Warrior Zone Fighters Book 2

  Thank You

  Books by Tia Lewis

  Mailing List

  About The Author

  Sign up for Tia Lewis’ VIP e-mail list to receive new releases, excerpts, sales, and giveaways!

  Go to: www.NextBookRelease.com to sign up now or text LEWIS to 31996.

  FULL BOOK CATALOG BY TIA LEWIS

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2017 by Tia Lewis. All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please contact: info@authortialewis.com. www.AuthorTiaLewis.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of the e-book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic, or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published by Salted Pen Publications, Minnesota.

  Redemption: A Bad Boy MMA Fighter Romance

  Edited by: Charity Chimni

  Beta Readers: Jackie & Vickie

  Cover Art by: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  Books by Tia Lewis

  Draw Play: A Sports Romance

  Stadium of Lights: A Second Chance Romance

  Draft Day: A BWWM Sports Romance

  Threat: A Blood Riders MC (Book 1)

  Reveal: A Blood Riders MC (Book 2)

  Creed: A Blood Riders MC (Book 3)

  The Hitman’s Possession: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Book 1)

  The Hitman’s Property: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Book 2)

  The Hitman’s Duology Series Bundle

  Dirty Hacker: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

  Dirty Money: A Dark Mafia Romance

  Misled: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  Zarak: Scifi Alien Invasion Romance (The Mating Games Book 1)

  About This Book

  I won't stop until I have my title back and Hannah Collin's is mine.

  Owning Chicago's best MMA gym, the Warrior Zone, doesn't compare to the high I got from being inside the octagon—the lights, the screaming fans, the women. I used to be the top MMA fighter until a near fatal injury forced me to retire and stripped me of that title. I was convinced life would never taste as sweet as it once had.

  Until her…

  When feisty, and irresistible Hannah Collins, owner of Sweet Treats Bakery, unexpectedly walks into my life, she turns into a distraction I don't need.

  But something about her forces me to take notice, and I couldn't shake her mesmerizing green eyes and tempting curves from my mind.

  I'm determined to regain my title as the best cage fighter in the world, and will also convince Hannah that she belongs to me... no matter what it takes.

  Redemption s a steamy MMA fighter contemporary romance novel. It's only recommended for audiences 18+. Standalone. No cheating. No cliffhangers. HEA.

  Chapter One

  Anthony

  "No, no you gotta stay light on your feet! You're standing too flat footed."

  I watched as the young fighter attempted to adjust his stance, wanting to throw in the towel and find another guy who actually knew what the fuck he was doing. Trevor had shown some promise in the cage in the beginning, but now I suspected he was getting too cocky and as a result, forgetting every damn thing I taught him. Holding up my sparring gloves once more, I gritted my teeth. "Again."

  Trevor shook his head and resumed his stance, coming at me in a flurry of punches and kicks. I expertly blocked each one, feeling the rush of adrenaline at wanting to throw the fighter to the ground and really show him what it was like to be in the cage with a professional. His sparring was way too slow and in my mind, I calculated a dozen holes he left open as he tried to be fast and furious instead of meticulous. His foot shot out, and I tried to block it, feeling the pain in my knee immediately before it buckled and I went down on the mat.

  "Shit Rampage, I'm sorry," Trevor said as he dropped his arms, moving toward me. "I didn't mean to kick you, man."

  He reached down to help me up, and I waved him off. "Get away from me." I was pissed that Trevor had kicked me, that my knee was a fucking weakness. Me, Anthony "The Rampage" Jones, one-time top MMA fighter in the fucking world couldn't even spar with a newbie without getting injured. I hated my life.

  Trevor opened his mouth, but a dark look from me caused him to close it and walk away, opening the cage and exiting. I laid back on the mat, the familiar smell of sweat and the smell of foam assaulting my senses. Hell. My busted-up knee throbbed from the kick, and I knew I was going to have to ice it tonight to keep it from looking like a baseball in the morning.

  Larry's face loomed over me, and I rubbed a hand over my face. "What?"

  "You do know you are the one laying on the mat, right?" he asked, an amused look on his face.

  I gave him the middle finger. "Just let me die in peace and quiet."

  He shook his head and extended his hand. "Come on, let's get some ice on that knee."

  I grumbled but allowed him to help me up, hopping on one foot while he helped me out of the cage and to the office, where I collapsed in a chair.

  "Anthony, you need to stay out of that cage. Let the other guys deal with the hand to hand," Larry said as he grabbed an ice pack from the small fridge in the office and handed it to me.

  I looked at the man who had trained me to fight in that cage, the man who had made me bleed and hurt more than anyone else in this world and hated him at that very moment. Larry had been my rock during my training and my matches, never an MMA fighter himself but one who had studied the sport long enough to be an expert. It was because of him that I had held the title in my division high over my head a few years ago, with blood dr
ipping from my mouth and a swollen eye. I had done the impossible and knocked off the number one fighter in the world. And now, now I was sitting in this damn chair, with an ice pack on my knee. Man, how tables had turned. "Fuck you."

  Larry leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "No thanks. You aren't my type."

  I shook my head and placed the ice on my knee, hissing as I felt the coldness on my skin. "I missed his foot, that's all. The kid, he's not ready. He leaves too many holes in his stances."

  "See that's what you should be doing," Larry replied as I leaned back in the chair. "Analyzing these guys, checking out the stats, finding the right matches. You shouldn't be physically in the cage, Anthony. You can't do it anymore."

  "I can," I shot back, looking up at him. I wasn't the washed-up fighter that everyone thought I was. I could still hang. Trevor had gotten a lucky shot. "I'm going to fight again."

  Larry snorted. "The hell you are. You are not in shape to fight with these guys, Tony. It's a whole different world now. They'll slaughter you as soon as you get into that cage."

  "I can do it," I grumbled. Fighting was all I had ever known in my life before I had met Larry. My old man had run an underground fighting ring, and when I was fourteen, he put me in my first cage match. I got my ass kicked, but learned a very important lesson: I had to defend myself. My old man wasn't going to. In fact, he beat on me as much as I got beaten on during my matches. My mom had died giving birth to me, and I suspected he always blamed me for her death. Larry had found me one night when I was seventeen, cocky and hot headed wanting blood to be spilled.

  "You got real talent," he said as I stripped off my gloves, tasting the blood in my mouth from my cut lip. We were back in the makeshift locker room after my win, taking down a guy twice my size in record time. I had seen the man a few times at the matches, but this was the first time he had reached out to me.

  "Thanks," I finally said, throwing the gloves in the bag on the bench. "What do you want, an autograph or something?"

  He chuckled and held out his hand. "Larry Grimes."

  Surprised, I shook his hand. Larry Grimes' name had been floating around for years in the underground market, a man who had spent years studying the art of MMA fighting. While most would say that he had no idea what he was doing since he technically was never a fighter, he had produced several champions in his day. "Mr. Grimes, I didn't know it was you."

  "You have some real talent," he repeated, narrowing his gaze. "Do you like fighting underground son?"

  "I like it alright," I shrugged, releasing his hand. It kept my old man off my back with all the money I was making him, and I had gained some respect with those who doubted me.

  He leaned in. "How would you like to fight with the big boys?"

  That was how this whole partnership had gotten started. I knew that Larry was attempting to look out for me, but I could take care of myself. Fighting was my life.

  Larry sighed. "Tony, you got the club."

  I thought about the club that a few of my MMA fighter friends and I started three years ago. The Warrior Zone was rapidly gaining ground as one of the premier training facilities for up and coming fighters. The money was rolling in, but it wasn't enough. I was fucking bored with this side of the fighting world. I wanted to get back in the ring. "It's not enough," I ground out, stretching out my knee. Shit, it hurt. "I gotta get back in that cage, Larry. I'm dying out here."

  Larry threw up his hands, pointing to the knee that took me out to begin with. "Do you want to undo everything that them doctors did to you? Do you? They told you if you fought again you could wind up with a permanent limp. Is that what you want?"

  I glared at him. "I can do this, Larry. I have to do this."

  Larry shook his head and walked out, banging the door closed behind him. I threw the ice pack at the door, pissed that I was dealing with this again. Because of my banged-up knee, I had been forced to retire at the top of my game, and while most people would be ecstatic that they were able to do so, I hated it. At twenty-five, I shouldn't have been retiring.

  With a heavy sigh, I pushed out of the chair and attempted to put weight on my injured leg, wincing as I felt the pain shoot up from my knee. I could work through this pain. I had before. Larry wasn't a fighter nor had he ever been one, so he wouldn't understand the need to get back into the cage, the craving deep down in my gut that festered day after day. There had been a time that I thought sparring would be enough to keep the need at bay. But it wasn't. I needed to find a way to get back into fighting.

  My damn knee was the culprit. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was at a disadvantage with my knee, knowing it was an easy target. If only that fighter hadn't gotten in that hit and taken me down, the audible pop of the ligaments something I would live with for the rest of my days. It had been damn humiliating to be carried out of the cage, seeing the pity in everyone's eyes as the doctor ruled me out of the match and subsequent matches afterward. I hated that feeling and hoped to never see it again. Yet, Larry had given me that same look just minutes ago. He thought this was a fruitless idea, one that was going to ultimately end it all for me. Well, I was going to show him he was damn wrong on all accounts. I could do this. I needed to do this. Fighting was everything to me, my entire existence and if I couldn't get back into that cage professionally, there weren't many options left for me.

  I grabbed a few towels out of the cubby on the way out, hobbling toward the back of the gym where we had an ice bath for days like this. I needed to numb the pain so I could forget for just a few minutes that I wasn't a whole fighter.

  Chapter Two

  Hannah

  I piped the last rose on the cake and stepped back, looking at it with a critical eye. The wedding cake was gorgeous, I had to say so myself, a three-tier confection of pale pink roses delicately attached to a thick layer of buttercream icing. Inside were a trio of flavors, much like a Neapolitan ice cream scoop. The entire thing had taken me a great deal longer than I liked to spend on cakes, but I wanted it to be perfect. After all, this was going to be one of the most important days of their lives, and I didn't want a bad cake to ruin it.

  Laying down the piping bag, I stretched out my back, cramped from hours of bending over. The bakery was quiet in the evening hours, everyone else going home to their waiting family. Me, I would be heading to an empty apartment and leftover Chinese in a little while, once I got this cake done and safely in the fridge for pick up in the morning. The bell above the door sounded, and I looked up, seeing my new assistant, Lillian, step through the door, her arms full of the supplies I sent her out to get earlier. Lillian was, well, interesting with her pink hair and nose piercing, but she was a hard worker and so far had proved to be everything I had needed in an assistant. "Hey," she said, breathless as she dumped the supplies on the table. "I think I got everything."

  I looked over her pile, nodding in agreement. I had a special request cake to make for a birthday, and it was going to require a great deal of black icing. "Thanks, it looks like it's all there."

  "The wedding cake looks good," Lillian said as she walked around the table to look at it from every angle. "I wish my roses would turn out as good as yours."

  "I've had a lot of practice," I smiled, thinking of all the piped roses I had done during my time at culinary school and in the last two years that I had owned my own bakery. Sweet Treats was a vision that had finally come to fruition when I had found the perfect building with a cheap lease. Now I had a nice little bakery front where I could display my creations. After the year I had, I was very grateful for this bakery. It kept me sane when I thought I would fall apart.

  "Hey did you see that hottie walking out of the gym earlier? My god his arms were huge!"

  I rolled my eyes and picked up the cake, carrying it carefully to the fridge, where it would sit until tomorrow. Lillian hadn't gotten used to the gym that was next door and the amount of muscled men that crossed our path every day. The gym had been here when I moved in a
nd for a while I had kept to myself. But it wasn't long before business from next door had started to trickle in and let's just say it wasn't the normal gym crowd that came over for a bite. These guys were heavily tattooed and based on what I could see of their bodies, pretty cut muscularly. I wasn't quite sure what kind of gym the Warrior Zone was, but something told me they weren't just lifting weights over there. Still, everyone that had come in was very nice and polite so I couldn't complain. "Why don't you just go over there and check them all out?" I asked as I took the leftover cupcakes out of the display case and placed them in a container that I would drop off at the homeless shelter on the way home. I didn't believe in throwing perfectly good food away.

  Lillian pulled out another box and grabbed a few of the cupcakes. "Maybe you should go and check it out, Hannah. You work too much. You need a social life and a boyfriend."

  My hand stilled as I picked up one of the cupcakes, the familiar feeling of loss and anger coming over me. I had tried so hard to not have it affect me anymore, but the mere mention of a boyfriend just brought it all back full force. I had been involved, heavily involved with a man that I thought loved me just six months ago, where I had started dreaming of my own wedding cake and how I was going to decorate it. James had been everything to me, this funny, handsome investment banker, who for some reason had fallen in love with me, Hannah Collins, a slightly overweight baker who loved to taste her treats as much as she loved to make them. It had been James who had helped me get a good loan with the bank to purchase this place and somewhere along the way, I had fallen in love. Apparently, he had as well, with my former assistant and close friend, Jenna. While I was living in my own little cloud nine world where all was right and perfect, James and Jenna were banging each other everywhere, including the nice apartment we lived in together. The shock of finding them together after Jenna had called in sick, and I was bringing her chicken soup like any good friend would do, had devastated me. Not only had I lost the love of my life, but my best friend in the same breath. Of course, both of them had apologized like crazy and promised to never do anything like that again, but the damage was done. I had moved out, and after about three months of peace, while I nursed my broken heart, James had started sniffing around again. I had no intentions of going down that road. "I think I have enough going on right now," I said, realizing Lillian was waiting on a response. "I don't need any other distractions."