The Fight Club - Boxed Set

by Becca Jameson

She scanned the room for Rider, but didn’t see him.

  Katy leaned over and shouted the answer to her unspoken question in her ear over the roar of the crowd. “He’s probably in the locker room. I don’t see any of The Fight Club. They like to get pumped up together behind the scenes.”

  Emily nodded. She watched the two men already in the cage as they grappled with each other, seemingly evenly matched.

  Katy and Jenna skirted the edge of the crowded room to reach the far side of the cage. They leaned against the wall there, and Emily did the same.

  Katy nodded at the ring. “Have you met Joe yet?”

  “No. But I’ve heard about him. He’s the owner, right?”

  “Yes and my uncle.”

  Emily twisted her neck to look at Katy. “Really? How did I miss that?”

  “Yeah, that’s how I met Rafe. I came in one morning to talk to Uncle Joe and Mason landed a hard punch to Rafe’s jaw while my man’s gaze landed on me and froze him in place.” Katy stood a little taller and batted her eyes until she broke down laughing. “Romantic, right?” she asked sarcastically.

  Jenna leaned around Katy to add to the story. “She’s leaving out the part where Rafe went outside and waited for her to finish with Joe so he could hit on her. Bet he nearly wet his pants when Katy not only came out of the building a few minutes later, but she turned toward him, stepped between his legs, and planted a long wet messy kiss on him.”

  Emily’s gaze widened. “You didn’t.” She stared at Katy.

  Katy nodded. “There was more to it, but the legend sounds so much better I’ve decided to concede defeat and let it take on its own life.” She giggled.

  Emily turned back to the octagon as the noise level in the room increased. One of the men had a chokehold on the other one and they were swaying toward the ground.

  Emily gripped her hands into fists. She didn’t know either man, but she found herself rooting for the taller blond for no other reason than the fact she loved the tattoo running across his shoulder blades and down his arms. She didn’t know when she’d become a fan of tattoos, probably the first time Rider took off his shirt and she was struck silent by the expanse of wings across his back, but Lord these men were smokin’ hot.

  When the fight ended, Gage came out of a back door next. Must have been the locker room. He bounced on his feet as he took the ring. He was almost the same size as Rider, but more rugged. He always looked like he hadn’t shaved for two days. The man she now knew was the owner, Joe, yelled instructions as Gage and his opponent came together at the sound of the bell.

  Emily watched, mesmerized. Each five-minute round seemed to last far longer. She found herself learning the various types of kicks and punches as she watched. Not that she knew the terminology, but she understood better what sort of moves they made to get out of a hold or sweep their opponent to the ground.

  Gage was a little stronger than the man he fought. In the second round he wrestled his opponent to the ground and the guy finally tapped out in defeat. The two men stood and shook hands before exiting the ring.

  This went on for two hours. Each member of The Fight Team took on a contender, as well as several other fighters Emily didn’t know. She never saw Rider during that time. She knew he was in the locker room, but she wished he would come out so she could at least ease her tension over needing to see him.

  Suddenly, he was there. Larger than life in front of her, entering the cage. He didn’t look at her or even glance her direction. His body was stiff. Sexy as hell, but tight. His brow was furrowed. He bounced, but not with the loose gait she was used to seeing.

  When the bell rang, Emily flinched and stepped closer. No matter what happened, she needed to be near him tonight. She had every intention of getting in his face after the fight and forcing him to listen. But while he was in the ring, she would let herself get swept away by the action.

  The man he fought was named Reggie. He was a strong opponent. They were evenly matched. They threw several jabs at each other and some leg kicks, but neither of them managed to get a hold on the other for a takedown. It was hard to tell which one of them had the upper hand, but Joe didn’t look pleased when the first round ended and Rider headed to his corner. The cornerman, Byron, squirted water in Rider’s open mouth and wiped the sweat from his brow. He swatted Rider on the shoulder as the minute ended and told him to get out there and do his thing.

  Rider bounced back up, still not meeting Emily’s gaze, though she found herself standing right at the fence, her feet having guided her as close as possible as though she were a magnet.

  Rider ducked a left hook by Reggie and swung around in a circle to kick Reggie in the side. Reggie stumbled back a few feet, but then regained his equilibrium and came back strong. He landed a punch to the side of Rider’s head that made Emily shriek. Rider went down on one knee, but quickly recovered, jumping to his feet.

  Emily stood on her toes now. “Get him, Rider. You can do it.”

  He hesitated for less than a second, or maybe she imagined it, but then he plowed forward until he had Reggie against the fence across from her. All she could see from there was Rider’s fantastic back. The wings seemed to spread wider as though he were larger than life. The Enforcer, they called him. She could see how appropriate that was now that she knew him.

  ∙•∙

  Rider bounced away from one of Reggie’s signature swings and dodged left. He knew he wasn’t at his best. He’d been stiff before he entered the cage and he hadn’t slept well for a week—not since Emily had tipped his world upside down with her announcement that she wouldn’t introduce him to her family. He’d simmered some since last Saturday, but he was still fuming angry that she didn’t trust him.

  The last thing he wanted was to confront her tonight. But there she was, filling the entire gym with her cute self. He hadn’t made eye contact, but he didn’t have to. The guys told him she was out there, had been all night.

  Instinctively he knew where she was standing while he fought. He could sense her every move without a glance.

  Reggie was ready tonight. Usually Rider could take Reggie out faster than he was demonstrating this evening. But Rider was anything but on his game. If he didn’t pull his shit together, and fast, he was going down.

  The bell sounded, ending the second round. He made his way toward Byron. He was exhausted and bleary eyed, but he could see Emily inching along the cage out of his peripheral vision.

  When he plopped onto his stool and tipped his head back, she was right there. “Rider, you’ve got this. You can do it.”

  He couldn’t help but turn her direction.

  Her sweet face was right there, inches from him. She gripped the fence with both hands, her fingers curling around the metal squares. Her gorgeous curls framed her face. Her blue eyes seemed deeper than usual, pleading.

  Byron wiped sweat away from Rider’s eyes.

  She lowered her voice now that she had his attention. “Get him, Rider. I know you can.”

  He caved a little. It was so hard not to let her sexy ass lure him in.

  She smiled. “I’m sorry. I need you.”

  The bell rang. That was all the time he had.

  He jerked his gaze away from the imp at the fence to get his head back in the game.

  Reggie was already in the center of the cage, jumping with renewed energy.

  I don’t think so, buddy. Reggie was a strong contender, but Rider had no interest in letting him get the best of him tonight.

  Taking a deep breath, Rider summoned up all his strength and went back into the match with full force. He threw several uppercuts at Reggie, backing him into the fence. They danced around each other for over a minute, each trying to take the other man down with a punch. And then Rider swept out his left foot and knocked Reggie to the ground.

  Rider was on him in an instant, straddling Reggie’s torso. While Reggie was stunned from hitting the ground hard, Rider leaned forward, wrapped his arm around Reggie’s neck and went for the c
hoke. He knew the referee was right there, inches away, watching and waiting to call the match. And Rider waited.

  Finally it was over, and he was on his feet in triumph.

  “The winner is Rider, The Enforcer, Henderson,” the speaker announced. Music to his ears.

  As he spun in a circle, waving at his fans, he saw Emily jumping up and down clapping and smiling broadly. But he didn’t acknowledge her. He wasn’t ready. Instead, he made his way through the gate on the other side of the cage and headed for the locker room.

  There were only two fights left for the night. Rider intended to hang out in the shower for a good long time. He didn’t know what to say to Emily, and he wasn’t ready to face her. Unless she’d had an about-face concerning going public with her relationship with him, he didn’t want to hear her apologies.

  He was totally fucking whipped. The guys told him over and over it would happen one day. He hadn’t believed a word of it.

  And here he was, pining over a woman. Emily had proven women were no less of a pain in the ass than he’d always known, but nevertheless, she’d stolen his damn heart, and he couldn’t get it back.

  What if she wasn’t ready to go public yet? Hell, what if she was never ready? Could he live with that?

  He stripped off his gloves and then his shorts and headed for the shower.

  He stepped under the spray before it warmed, not caring and actually enjoying the cool water as it cascaded down his sore shoulders and back. He planted his palms against the wall as he let the water hit him.

  What a mess. Emily was still out there. No way would she leave. She was a determined woman. If she wanted to talk to him, she would wait him out.

  He grinned. Her determination was one of the things he loved about her.

  He squeezed his eyes shut as he visualized her on her knees, driven to please him with a strength no one in their early twenties could demonstrate.

  But Emily wasn’t that young. She was thirty-three. And those years gave her the fire behind her eyes he loved so much.

  And God how she reacted to him in bed. She was the first woman he’d ever been with that didn’t balk for an instant at how rough he could be. Demanding. Dominant in every way.

  Emily took all that and gave back as good as she got.

  His cock stiffened as he thought about her on her hands and knees beneath him, rocking into his dick, moaning against the bed, her hands fisted in the sheets.

  He was doomed.

  So what if she wanted to lay low publicly for a while? He was a patient man. He would show her through his actions he was worthy of introduction to her family and friends. She’d come around, eventually. Give and take.

  Rider grabbed the soap with renewed hope. He’d face her when the gym cleared out and he could talk to her calmly without alerting everyone to their disagreement.

  He finished his shower and put on his street clothes in slow motion. There was no rush. Everyone else dashed around the locker room, hurrying to get on with their evening.

  When Rider thought he was the last man inside, the door opened and shut with a loud snick.

  Gage’s voice came from behind. “How long you gonna make her wait, man?” He snickered.

  “She still out there?” He knew she was.

  “Yep. She’s sitting in Joe’s office learning everything she can from the master.”

  Rider rolled his eyes. He’d created a monster. He turned to face Gage. “She seems to enjoy the fights.”

  “Dude, she fucking loves watching MMA. I’ve seen her myself. The way she jumps up and down clapping like a kid in a candy shop. And her cheeks turn red as she gets excited. Katy and Jenna say she’s a freak of nature. They’re kidding of course.” Gage sat on the bench across from Rider. “I don’t know what you two fought about last week, but you’ve been brooding ever since. I wouldn’t let that one get away, man. No matter what your policy is on women.”

  Rider sighed.

  Gage dipped his head and clasped his hands together. “If that were my woman, I’d kneel at her feet and beg her to forgive whatever I’d done or hadn’t done to get back in her good graces.”

  “I know. I’m working up the nerve. You’re totally right, Gage.”

  Rider’s phone pinged on the bench next to him.

  Dave.

  “Shit. Hang on.” Rider held up a finger to Gage as he connected. “Hey.”

  “Rider, we’re taking Darnel down tonight. In about an hour. You want to be there?”

  “Fuck yes, I want to be there.”

  “Meet us at the station in fifteen then.”

  “I’m on my way.” He flipped the phone shut and lifted his gaze.

  Gage’s eyes were wide. “You’re leaving?”

  Rider jumped up and grabbed his bag. “No choice. Got called in. Please do me a favor.”

  “Anything. I just wish it didn’t involve facing that cute pixie out there and telling her you slipped out the back door without talking to her.”

  Rider smirked. “Yep, that’s what I need from you. I totally owe you one.”

  “Dude, you owe me way more than one. What do you want me to say?”

  “Not just say. Do. She doesn’t have a car. The girls brought her tonight. Rafe told me earlier. Would you take her to my place and let her in? Tell her to wait for me there. I’ll be late.” Rider backed toward the door as he spoke.

  Gage sighed heavily. “Sure. Whatever. Go. I’ll handle it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rider crouched low, wincing at the slight crunch of gravel and weeds beneath his boots. Undoubtedly the sound was minimal, but it seemed like a blaring car alarm when silence was the goal.

  The piece of shit mobile home had seen better days, like thirty or forty years ago. The screen door creaked open and slapped closed on the night breeze. The latch likely hadn’t worked for over a decade. Hopefully, the occupant had grown so accustomed to the distraction that it would mask the noise from the dozen or more cops who had the place surrounded.

  Rider was glad to be included with the group of officers going along with the FAU, Las Vegas PD’s high-risk Fugitive Apprehension Unit, on this detail. It was a job he was interested in a transfer to, and he’d been taking classes at the academy in preparation. As part of the training, he was included in some of the task force’s plans, and this particular drug dealer was one Rider would be glad to see off the streets.

  Rider glanced at Dave, his sergeant, who squatted on the other side of the front door. Henderson, James, and Davis were hunkered behind a beat-up Mustang haphazardly parked in front, and he knew Wicks would also be nearby. Parked was a bit of a stretch, considering the car was older than the mobile home and had no tires. It sat on cinder blocks, and Rider considered the entire hunk worth less than its value as scrap metal.

  Surprisingly, and detrimental to their needs, the trailer park had plenty of outside lighting. It was shocking since every lot seemed to host an equally rundown excuse for a home. But the lights meant Dave’s squad of six, including Rider, needed to be careful, and so would the apprehension squad. Since they could see the details of every home, anyone looking out their windows could also see the details of the officers surrounding the area. This meant they couldn’t use the darkness itself as cover.

  Another problem, with all these homes so close together, was the issue of stray bullets. Collateral damage and crossfire danger were at the top of their list of concerns. Situation awareness, drilled into them all since the academy, was of utmost importance tonight. It would behoove them to make this arrest as cleanly as possible and avoid any messy altercations.

  When grabbing a known drug dealer, “messy” was nearly always unavoidable.

  The other members of the FAU were around back, having already taken out the crew of lookouts posted around the area before they could warn Darnel. Darnel was likely to bolt the second he caught wind of the situation. Or attempt to, at least. Unless he could squeeze through the tiny high window of the bathroom, he was fucked. He woul
dn’t make it two feet before being tackled to the ground.

  Rider glanced back and forth between Henderson and Dave until Henderson nodded and Dave lifted three fingers, lowering them one at a time as their countdown. Dave stood to the side of the door, whipped the screen against the side of the trailer, and banged with a fist on the cheap aluminum that served as the only barrier between him and Darnel.

  “Police. Open up,” Dave yelled. At the same time, Henderson ran up next to Rider and smacked the door right by the doorknob with the Thor’s Hammer to batter the door open. Rider flattened himself against the side of the trailer behind Henderson, both hands on his Glock in front of him. A shuffling noise inside the cabin stiffened his stance in readiness. And then someone grumbled out a “fuck.” The damn walls were so thin, any sound leaked out between the cracks. A dog barked nearby. A woman screamed from inside the trailer.

  No one approached the door, so Dave peered around the doorframe. “Hands in the air, asshole,” he screamed.

  Seemingly every dog on the planet started barking. A man stuck his head out of the front door of the mobile home next door and gasped. Rider let his gaze shift to the guy for less than a second, making sure he wasn’t a threat. The dude, dressed in nothing but briefs, bolted back inside and slammed his door.

  Good boy. Stay out of our way.

  Henderson leaped forward behind Dave, both men with guns trained on whoever was in the room in front of them. Quickly, they entered the trailer, shouting orders.

  Rider squared up with the entrance and took the two steps to the threshold. He took in the scene and grinned, figuring Darnel was extremely unhappy on many different levels right now.

  Dave stood over a man and a woman, his gun pointed at the man’s head. The guy matched the pictures Rider had seen of Darnel.

  The woman was naked. Darnel wore only jeans and they were pushed down over his buttocks, exposing half his crack, just enough to let his cock hang out. He had clearly been fucking the skinny woman when they’d breached the home.

  The woman screamed again, and then started whimpering as she pushed Darnel off her and scrambled to back up on the couch. “What the fuck?” Her hair was blonde, bottle blonde and in need of a touch up, and she looked worn, older than she probably was. No doubt her aged appearance was a product of the lines of coke still spread across the coffee table.