A Fighter's Love

by Lily Harlem

  He stroked her hair, very gently smoothing it over her scalp and neck.

  Jackson reached for her feet, rested them on his lap, and massaged the base of her soles.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. Bliss. Their hands on her, whatever they were doing, were like magic.

  Jenny had a moment of disorientation when she awoke. She wasn’t where she’d fallen asleep. She stretched out her arms and legs and found warm patches either side.

  With a murmur she opened her eyes. She was in Dale’s bedroom. Light was spilling in through the white shutters and a large glass lamp hung above the bed. She hadn’t taken any notice of the décor the first time she’d come into the room—she’d been preoccupied.

  She turned and faced the en suite. The sound of splashing water, interrupted on its tumble to the shower tray, filtered toward her.

  She sat, and spotting a large white toweling robe, pulled it on to cover her naked chest. It fell below her knees, and the arms covered her hands. She rolled the sleeves up a few times and knotted the belt.

  “Mmm, coffee smells good,” she said, wandering into the kitchen.

  Dale looked up from where he was filling two mugs. A smoothie maker next to him held a pile of fresh fruit and a liter bottle of milk stood next to it. “Here.” He passed her a mug.

  “Thanks.” She cradled it.

  “Will you be okay to wear what you came in last night for work today?” He nodded at the clock. It was just gone eight. “I’m guessing you didn’t bring anything else.”

  “Blimey, is that the time? Yes. It’ll be okay.” Jeans and a smart blouse would do. There were several people who wore jeans into the office.

  “I can run you home quickly if you want, in the van.”

  “No, it’ll be fine. I’ll catch the Tube from here into work. It’s only a couple of stops.”

  “That’s convenient for sleepovers.” He moved in close, his bare chest brushing the sleeves of the robe. “Talking of which, I hope there’ll be more.”

  “I’m sure there will be.” She smiled up at him and accepted the coffee flavored kiss he set on her lips.

  “In which case you might want to bring your own robe.” He plucked at the collar. “This is definitely too big for you.”

  “But I like it.”

  He laughed. “Then use it as often as you want.”

  The shower flicked off. A minute later Jackson wandered into the kitchen with a towel around his waist and rubbing his hair with another one. He looked for all the world as if he’d just stepped out of some glitzy magazine. Tough, dark, inked and ready for action.

  Jenny gulped her coffee. A drip went down the wrong way and she had to stop herself from spluttering. Would it be so bad to skip a day at work? Should they all skip a day and tumble back into bed?

  “I have to get going,” Dale said, stepping away and pulling on a t-shirt. “The lads will be on site by now.”

  “Sure. See you later, at the gym.” Jackson flicked on the smoothie maker.

  “Yep, you will,” Dale shouted over the whirring noise. He pressed a kiss to Jackson’s cheek, then one to Jenny’s. “I’ll text you,” he said to her. “’Cause I’m guessing you won’t be at the gym later.”

  Jackson switched the smoothie maker off.

  “Makes a change not to be,” she said. “But I do miss seeing you guys there in the evening.”

  “Oh, you’ll still see us,” Dale said. “Don’t worry about that.”

  He smiled, grabbed his keys, then left the kitchen.

  A few seconds later the front door slammed.

  “I should get organized.” Jenny nodded at the clock. “I’ll be late otherwise. Is it okay to have a shower?”

  “Sure.” Jackson finished pouring milk into his smoothie. “But do me a favor and lock the door.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I know it’s open, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself coming in and soaping you up.”

  “Maybe I won’t lock it then.” She laughed.

  “You should.” He glanced at the clock. “I’ve got a meeting in an hour that’s worth tens of thousands. It would be one expensive fuck.”

  She giggled and turned away. “Okay, I take your point. The door will be locked.”

  “Don’t think I won’t check.”

  Luckily Jenny arrived at work on time. She raised an eyebrow or two from colleagues unused to seeing her in jeans and even less used to seeing her in heels and a sassy silk top.

  Stella was out of the office. Andre was at a meeting in Oxford and she’d gone with him to take notes. Jenny had smiled when Stella had told her. Taking notes, that was a new way of saying she was sleeping with the boss. Oxford was only an hour away and Jenny had seen Stella booking a nice hotel so they could travel up the evening before. But she hadn’t said anything. That was Stella and Andre’s business, not hers.

  Tristan was in the office, though, and in his usual brisk manner had set Jenny a couple of extra tasks to be getting on with. When she’d first taken up employment, with him as one of her new bosses, his no-nonsense demeanor had upset her, and made her constantly wonder what she’d done to offend him. Then she’d realized it was just Tristan’s way. He was sharp and focused. Maximum efficiency was what he strived for as was the success of the company. Which of course benefitted them all. The better Wainwright and Bramon were doing, the more people were employed, the better the wages, and everyone was happy.

  She’d just made her mid-morning coffee when the elevator pinged. She didn’t take much notice of it, and continued to study a complicated spreadsheet.

  A shadow loomed over the desk and a feeling of dread crept across her skin.

  “Hey, Jenny.”

  Billy’s voice seeped into her, seeming to bring with it a bad taste that settled on her tongue.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, frowning up at him.

  “Did you get the flowers?”

  “Yes. You shouldn’t have.”

  “Only the best for my girl.”

  “I’m not your girl, Billy. I’ve made that clear.” She spotted a couple of other members of the team looking her way. Jenny wasn’t one of the employees who had male visitors popping in. So one who looked like he’d overdosed on steroids and also had a booming voice commanded attention—unwanted attention.

  “We can fix this.” He crossed his beefy arms.

  “No, we can’t. It’s over.” She sighed and shook her head. “Please leave, I’m very busy.”

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  “What?” Had she heard him right? He was asking for her help…again.

  “Yeah, the health and safety officer from the damn council is coming over this evening. To do the fire checks and all that shit. The rules have changed. They’re saying you have to be there, since you filed for the license.”

  “It’s your club. You do it.”

  “Well I bloody well would if I could.” He squeezed his arms tighter and his knuckles pressed against his biceps, causing them to bulge. “But they’re not having it. Bunch of fucking paper pushers.”

  She frowned.

  “And if I don’t get this license there’ll be no fight on Friday. All your hard work for getting the tickets sold, which they all have by the way, will be to waste.”

  “They’ve all sold?” She was pleased. It was great for Jackson, and showed what a crowd drawer he was becoming.

  “Yeah, so that’s a lot of people you’ll let down, Jen, if you don’t sort this out for the club.”

  She tutted. It seemed she’d been backed into a corner. And she did vaguely remember the document stating she had to be there for the inspection and the event since she was the lead name.

  “Great.” Billy took her silence as an agreement. “About seven then, tonight.”

  “I’ll be there,” she said. “But I’m doing it for the club, for Jackson and Michael who have worked so hard to make sure he’s ready for Grinder. Not for you and not for us because there
is no us.”

  Billy pressed his knuckles on the table and leaned forward. “What’s got into you, eh? You never used to be such a bitch.”

  “Such a bitch? I’ve just agreed to help you out massively. How is that being a bitch?”

  Billy didn’t answer, because at that moment a delivery man appeared at his side holding a huge bunch of pink, lilac and white flowers set in a large, round-bottomed glass vase containing sparkling pebbles. “Ms. Jenny Jones?”

  Jenny was aware of her mouth hanging open. They were beautiful. Were they really for her?

  “What the…?” Billy stood straight and glared at them as if they were poisonous. “Who the hell are they from?”

  “I don’t know, do I? I haven’t read the card.” She stood.

  “Here you go, Miss.” The deliveryman handed her a small pink envelope.

  Jenny was aware of a tremor in her fingers as she slipped it open. Before pulling it out she glanced around the office. All eyes were on her. Billy was staring at her, his fists clenched and Tristan had appeared in his office doorway. He had a frown etched into his brow, though it was deeper than usual and his attention appeared to be directly on Billy.

  She opened the card.

  Babe

  Thought these would brighten your day at the office.

  See you later.

  D, J. xxxxxxx

  She read it twice. Dale and Jackson had sent her flowers—stunning, extravagant, exquisite flowers.

  “Give me that.” Billy snatched the card from her hand.

  “Hey.” She tried to grab it back but he held it aloft and read it. “Billy, that’s private.

  “Babe! See you later.” He glared at her. “Who the hell is D, J?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “It’s all of my business.” He threw the card onto the table where it landed on her keyboard. “Some shithead is sending you flowers. I want to know who.”

  “As I’ve said many times.” She tapped the side of her head. “But it’s not getting through your thick skull. We’re finished. Over. Finito. Now get out of here.”

  “I suggest you listen to the lady.” Tristan stepped up behind Billy, his arms folded over his neat black suit jacket. He was easily as tall as Billy, but not as wide.

  Billy turned, a scowl in place. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m Tristan Wainwright.” He nodded at the huge brass plaque on the wall with Wainwright & Bramon engraved into it.

  Billy huffed. “Ah, you’re one of them.”

  “I am and as this is private property, my property, I’m asking you to leave the premises.” Tristan tipped his chin.

  Jenny’s heart was thudding. Involving one of her bosses in the sorry mess that was Billy really wasn’t something she’d ever wanted to do. A humiliating heat spread over her chest and up her neck.

  Just go, Billy. Just go.

  Billy clacked his jaw, as though chewing gum, and lazily swept his gaze over Tristan as if checking him out as a sparring partner.

  “Billy, do as he says,” Jenny said. “Please. I’ll see you later.”

  Billy swung his attention to her, then the flowers. “Yeah, you better be there.” He turned and stomped toward the elevator.

  As suddenly as he’d appeared, he’d gone.

  Jenny let out a breath and sat heavily.

  “Shall I…put these here? On the desk?” the deliveryman asked. His face was a fraction paler now than it had been.

  “Yes, thank you. Sorry about that.”

  “No problem.” He nodded, set the vase down, then backed away.

  Tristan came around the table. He squatted down on his haunches and gripped the arm of her chair.

  His dark eyes were full of concern, and his mouth a thin line. “Jenny, are you okay?”

  “I’m so sorry, Tristan. That will never happen again. I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about. We have security downstairs. If he’d refused to leave he’d have been forced to.”

  “Yes, yes of course. But he’s gone now.”

  “I take it he’s an ex.”

  “Yes.” As she’d said it she was embarrassed she’d allowed Billy to be in her life for so long with the label boyfriend. What had she been thinking?

  Tristan was quiet for a moment. “Forgive me for overhearing, but it sounds like you’re seeing him again later.”

  “He needs my help with something.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not happy with that.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No, he’s what I’d call a loose cannon. Unpredictable.” He paused. “And I bet he likes a fight.”

  “He owns a boxing club.”

  “Ah, that explains the muscles.” He studied her. “Muscles that are considerably bigger than yours.”

  “Oh, he’d never hurt me.”

  Tristan nodded slowly. “What I’m trying to say is, I don’t think you should be alone with that man.”

  Jenny said nothing.

  “I know I’m always rushing about, same as Andre, but we care about you, Jenny. You’re one of the team, one of the Bramon and Wainwright family. I don’t want to see anything happen to you.” He rested his fingertips on her arm. “We’re here if you need us.”

  His sudden and unexpectedly kind words created a lump in Jenny’s throat. “Thank you,” she managed.

  He cared. And yes, they were all like a family.

  He smiled, just a little. “So you won’t go tonight, wherever it is he wants you to be.”

  “I have to.”

  His smile dropped and the frown came back.

  “But it’s okay, really,” she said quickly.

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  She laughed, not out of humor but shock. Tristan Wainwright accompany her to the gym? Act as her bodyguard? Surely he had better things to do.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know, and it’s so kind of you. But really I’ll be fine. I’m just going to the club.”

  Tristan nodded slowly. “The boxing club?”

  “Yes. And there’ll be other people there.” She paused. “People I can depend on, who will look out for me.”

  Tristan glanced at the flowers.

  “And make sure I’m okay, really okay,” she added.

  “Good.” Tristan stood. He nodded at the flowers. “This guy, he’ll be there?”

  Jenny pressed her lips together. To say ‘guys’ in the plural was on the tip of her tongue. Instead she nodded.

  “A boxer?”

  Again she nodded.

  “That makes me feel better.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t be on your own with that ex of yours, will you? Promise me.”

  “No. I won’t be.”

  “Promise.”

  “I promise.”

  He set her a steely stare, the kind she was used to seeing from him. It made her realize she did indeed need to make sure she wasn’t alone with Billy. He’d made her uncomfortable a few times, perhaps been on the edge of hurting her. And now…now she really did need to keep from putting herself in a situation where he could cause her physical harm.

  Surely he wouldn’t really hurt me.

  She thought back to him as a teenager, a young smiling man. It wasn’t the Billy he was anymore, and she had to start seeing him the way Tristan had—a big, aggressive guy who liked having his own way and would go to any lengths to get it.

  Tristan swung his gaze around the other desks causing people to return their attention to their screens, then pressed his hand on her shoulder, and headed back to his office.

  Jenny blew out a breath and picked up the card that had come with the flowers. She re-read it.

  D, J.

  Dale and Jackson. Not one but two guys were in her corner. She’d be okay. How could she not be?”

  And if she didn’t go to the club, there’d be no match. And this fight with Grinder was the reason Jackson had been training so hard for months. If it d
idn’t go ahead now, he’d be miserable. It would all have been for nothing.

  So she had to go.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jenny had time to go home and change before she went to the gym. She was glad of fresh jeans and t-shirt and quickly grabbed a ham sandwich.

  When she arrived the gym was busy. The smell of sweat and hot bodies filled the air. The weights were all in use. Jackson was sparring with Dale in the ring. Michael skipped around them, snapping out instructions as they threw jabs high and low. Several guys hung on the ropes, watching, their expressions showing they were soaking up the action and enjoying the master class.

  Behind the ring a huge poster had been hung on the wall. It was an image of Jackson, blown up to ten feet tall, and Grinder. Each were posed with their gloves forward, and their expressions mean. Between them, written in flame red, were their names and the date of the fight.

  Not long now.

  She tightened her bag and walked past the ring. A few guys nodded hello to her, but Jackson and Dale were engrossed in what they were doing.

  Glad to get away from the beating music, she went into the office. Billy was sitting at the computer, scratching his head and looking thoroughly confused.

  “Ah, I’m glad you’re here,” he said, glancing at her. “I can’t send this email. No fucking idea why.

  She sighed. “What’s the problem?”

  “Keeps coming back, saying not delivered.” He stood and placed his hands on his hips.

  “Perhaps the email address is wrong.” She set her bag on the table, stooped and hovered her fingers over the keyboard. “Should Smith be spelled with two ‘m’s’?”

  “What? No. I don’t think so.”

  Quickly she adjusted the email address and hit send. The screen flashed and the email was on its way. “Sorted.”

  “Fuck. Stupid thing.”

  “It’s not really.”

  “But this is why I need you here. I can’t do this shit.”

  “Billy, I will not go through this with you again.”

  “Ms. Jones?”

  They both turned to the doorway. A man in a smart blue suit stood there. He had gray hair, a red tie and carried a clipboard.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Greg Davis. I’ve come to do the safety inspection, apologies for the late appointment, couldn’t be helped I’m afraid.”