The Fighter’s Secret Child
By Leslie North
The Burton Brothers Series
Book 3
Blurb
A few years ago, Rachel strutted around the ring wearing next to nothing. Now she’s back with Beck’s baby… and he’s not letting her go.
Ex-ring girl Rachel St. Martin used to love the thrill of MMA, but there was only one fighter she ever fell for. With his deep blue eyes and rippling muscles, Beck Burton stole her heart. But when she got pregnant, one taste of his explosive temper was enough to know she couldn’t have him around her child. She already lived through that with her own father. She swore she’d never go back, but with baby Chaz in need of a bone marrow transplant, Beck may be her son’s only chance.
Beck has had more than his share of ring bunnies, but gorgeous, red-haired Rachel is the only woman he’s never been able to forget. When they fought two years ago, he had no idea she’d walk out on him for good. He may have lost his cool then, but she should have known he only uses his fists inside the ring. Now she wants nothing more from him than a transfusion, but if Beck can get his anger issues under control, he may get a chance to win back her and his son. It’s a challenge he’d hate to lose.
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Dedications
I dedicate this book to you, my loyal readers. Thank you for all the lovely e-mails, reviews, and support. Without you, this wouldn't be possible.
I’d also like to say a special thank you to Leslie’s Lovelies who have had a huge role in making this book – you’re the best! THANK YOU for all your support.
If you’d like to join Leslie’s Lovelies and get exclusive advanced review copies of my latest books, please check out the Official Page here: http://leslienorthbooks.com/about/leslies-lovelies/
Table of Contents
The Fighter’s Secret Child
Dedications
Prologue
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
Read an Exclusive Introduction from Dustin’s Story
Prologue
“Dammit, Beck, you’re meant to be the champ, not some wuss off the street. Start acting like it!”
Beck glanced over at his brother. Mason was still getting over his motorcycle accident—he insisted he was fine, but Beck and Bryant were both keeping a close eye on the guy. The docs had sent Mason home with a warning to watch for headaches, dizziness, or anything unusual.
Watching Mason meant Beck wasn’t watching Bryant—his sparring partner today. Beck turned just as Bryant threw a straight jab that caught Beck square on the jaw. He staggered back and Bryant swept Beck’s feet out from under him.
From outside the sparing ring, Mason groaned. “What the hell are you thinking about, Beck? It sure isn’t your game. A kid could have ducked that punch! You just defended your title for the second time! You won in the first round by a knock-out. And now…I swear your head is in party land.”
Slowly climbing to his feet, his face hot, Beck held up his hands. He spit out his mouth guard and threw Mason a hard stare. “Oh, stuff it. I’m just—”
“Hung-over?” Mason asked.
Bryant spit out his mouth guard, too, and offered up a grin. “Brother, you’ve got to lay off the girls.”
Beck gave Bryant the same stink eye he’d offered Mason. “Just because you two opted for chaining your asses down with rings on your fingers that doesn’t mean I have to act a married man. I learned my lesson—boy did I ever. Girls are meant for one good night, and that’s it.” Beck wiped sweat from his forehead. “Besides, I was in bed last night by eleven.”
“Yeah, the question is who was with you?” Bryant asked.
Temper heating up, Beck swung at him, narrowly missing. Mason clapped his hands. “Enough chatter. Let’s try that again. And this time, Beck, get your mind on what’s happening in front of your face. Put some of that heat I can see in your face to good use!”
Beck put in his mouth guard and settled back into a fighting stance. Half an hour later, he’d given Bryant back as good as he’d gotten—they were both sweating and breathing hard. The sparing had worked out most of the anger that had been simmering in Beck.
Ringing a bell, Mason announced, “Okay, guys. Enough for the day. Beck, you didn’t get your workout with weights in—so let’s do a few sets before you hit the showers.”
Unwrapping his hands, and pulling out his mouth guard, Beck rolled his shoulders. “Mason, who died and made you God?”
Mason grinned. “Uh, that would be you when you signed up with me as your trainer.”
Bryant leaned in closer. “You must have been crazy. Terry Anders would have taken you on.”
Beck gave a snort. “Anders has enough on his plate with you marrying his daughter, and a grandkid on the way now. Hey, how’s Alice doing? She over her morning sickness yet?”
“I wish. She and Avery went out shopping for baby stuff. Do you have any idea how many things a baby needs?”
With a laugh, Beck shook his head. “Don’t know. Don’t want to know. I’m going to be the bachelor uncle that spoils your kids.”
“You’re going to be on your ass, if you don’t get out here and hit the weights,” Mason called out.
“Okay, okay,” Beck said. Climbing out of the ring, he headed to the weights. The dojo smelled of sweat and cool air from the vents. This early he had the place to himself, and he liked the quiet. Most of the fighters training here came in the afternoon and evening, since most of them also held a day job.
With their folks officially retired now, Mason and Bryant were running the school. Bryant had taken up the mixed-martial arts classes, and Mason was now heading into training. He was also still supposed to be taking it easy, so when he held out the weights, Beck took them from him with a narrowed-eyed stare. “What part of resting don’t you get?”
Mason offered up a crooked smile. “Pretty much all of it. Honestly, I feel fine—most of the time. And it’s not my head that hurts—it’s the broken arm that should have healed. I swear I’m better than a barometer at telling the weather now.”
Beck nodded. “Just be glad your head is harder than the ground.”
Arms folded, Mason watched Beck work the weights. When he’d finished a set and paused, Mason asked, “What’s eating at you?”
Beck picked up a hand weight and started curls. Damn if he was going to tell Mason that it was about this time two years ago that Rachel—
He cut off the thought. He wasn’t going to think about her, or about Fiji, or about how he’d failed to track down a girl who should have been easy to find. Not thinking—not remembering.
But all too often, he’d catch a glimpse of a girl just outside the ring and he’d do a double-take, his heart rate going up and his chest hurting hard as if someone had punched him. It never was her. How did anyone disappear as thoroughly as she had?
Beck forced
a laugh. He put down the weight. “Only thing eating at me is that it’s too long until my next fight.” He stood and faced Mason. “You know I don’t do well if it’s too long.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re already looking for trouble.” Mason slapped a hand on Beck’s shoulder. “Or more like if trouble comes around, you’ll hit first and talk later. Don’t worry. Terry Anders may not be training much, but he’s keeping an eye on other fighters. We’ll get you something lined up soon.”
Becks nodded. Grabbing a towel he headed for the showers. He glanced over to the faded poster tacked up on the wall near the coffee. Faded and peeling, it still showed a girl that would turn anyone’s head.
Beck’s anger kindled—a bright, hot flare. He wouldn’t let Mason or Bryant take the poster down—it motivated his will to fight. Just looking at it right now he wanted to walk over to the bag and start punching. And keep punching until he dropped. That, and a girl hanging on his arm, was about the only thing that kept his mind off Rachel, wherever the hell she was.
Chapter 1
Rachel St. Martin stepped out of the taxi and looked up at the business sign, proclaiming it the home of the Burton Brothers Martial Arts School. It had been two and a half years since she’d last seen that sign and her stomach jumped at the thought of what kind of welcome might face her now.
Reaching back inside the taxi, she unbuckled the seatbelt stretched across the car seat. Her little man’s head was slumped against his shoulder, after their flight he’d fallen asleep on the ride from the airport. He was the spitting image of his father, a fact she hoped would work in her favor in just a few minutes.
The taxi driver helped her with her luggage, leaving it on the sidewalk. It wasn’t much. A backpack and a wheeled suitcase. She gave him the generous tip she’d promised. He’d not only loaded her luggage, he’d made a special trip back inside the airport to retrieve the car seat she’d brought along as part of her checked baggage.
“Thank you,” she said. She ignored the wink he gave her.
Rachel was used to that—and to the looks men threw her way. She’d spent five years as a ring girl for the local MMA commission, strutting around between rounds in a barely-there bikini top, and boy shorts that hugged her ass like a second skin.
Her job had been to look beautiful, announce which round was next, and in general make sure she left every hot-blooded male salivating for their next glimpse of her perfect body. The pay had been great. And she’d banked every cent and stayed away from the parties—until she’d met Beck Burton and fallen head over heels.
She’d been so lost in love, she would have agreed to anything he wanted from her. When he’d suggested they go someplace tropical, she’d eagerly packed her bags. They’d spent two weeks in Fiji—a golden two weeks. And then they’d come back to reality.
Beck had headed off to training camp—and three weeks later Rachel had missed her period. She’d vacillated between happiness and fear. Beck and she had never really discussed having kids—they were barely even dating. They’d also never had unprotected sex. And she just wasn’t sure an MMA fighter was cut out to be a father—and she wasn’t sure he even wanted to hear he had fathered a kid.
When he returned from training camp, he’d come in angry. His training hadn’t gone well, and he’d heard she’d been out with another fighter. That “out” with another guy had not been the truth—she’d used that excuse to cover her doctor appointments.
But Beck hadn’t wanted to listen to anything. He’d blown up at her, throwing wild accusations at her, demanding to know who she was sleeping with now. She’d seen her mother go down that street—and she’d vowed never to be anyone’s doormat or punching bag.
She’d thrown him out—damn if she was going to have a kid with a guy who had temper issues. She hadn’t told him about the baby. She didn’t even know back then if she was going to keep the child. She’d quit her job, moved, and set out to make herself her own future. One without Beck.
It had only been a fling, after all. Nothing really serious. That was what Beck had told her at the start. He was a fighter first and always. And she hadn’t expected anything more from him than a good time. She’d been the one who’d gotten everything tangled up with emotion. But Chaz had changed everything for her. She’d known the second she held him that she would do anything for him.
And now she had to come crawling back. That sat inside her like a lead weight.
She pulled in a breath. She could have gone at this the legal way—with lawyers and demands for DNA testing. But she had long ago cooled down from her fight with Beck. She didn’t know if he’d learned anything about how to control his temper, but she had to take a chance now. Now, she just wanted to convince him that his child desperately needed something only his father could provide.
Rachel pushed at a stray lock of hair. The air stung her cheeks and her lungs. Spring in Utah could include sunshine and warmth, but today was turning out more like a winter’s day than anything. The early morning sky had started to cloud over, and rather than warming up, it was actually getting colder as the day wore on. You should have had the taxi driver take you to a hotel first!
Shaking her head at her foolishness, she pulled her purse crossways over her body and bent to tend to Chaz. She undid the stroller seatbelt, cuddling her little man close until he stopped fussing. She had carried their belongings inside the fenced yard, stacking them on the porch until she could deal with them again.
Once her son was calm again, she set him back in the stroller, “Just a few more minutes, Chaz.”
Rachel reached for the door to the school. It rattled in her hand. Hugging her sleeping son tight, she stepped to the side and looked at the hours. She let out a sharp breath. The school had new hours and wouldn’t open until noon. She closed her eyes and tried to come up with a plan. She couldn’t wait on the street.
Remembering there was a small apartment with its own entrance at the back of the building, she pressed her lips tight. She—well, she and Beck—had used it years ago. A spare key had been tucked above the doorjamb. For emergencies.
Well, this kind of counted. Only, it was her emergency and not theirs. Surely no one would mind, and it was just for a few hours? Besides, Chaz needed to eat and to be warm. Chaz helped her make up her mind when he started to fuss again.
She tucked his blanket around his little body and pulled his hat over his ears and forehead. The wind was bone chilling. “Just a few more minutes’ sweetie and then momma will get us warm.” Balancing her luggage in one hand, she dragged Chaz’s car seat and pushed his stroller around the side of the building all at once.
“Whatever it takes,” she muttered. Her new motto in life.
Thankfully, the apartment was still there. Pushing herself up on her tiptoes, she felt for the key. Bingo! Pulling it out she stuck it in the lock. She was more than exhausted. The red-eye flight had left her dragging and what she wanted was a cup of coffee and a place where Chaz could eat and nap. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of facing the Burton’s later—but that was for later.
“You’ll feel better as soon as Momma gets you inside. And then we’ll see about getting you some lunch.” She’d packed food for him, along with diapers and everything else he needed. Putting the key in the lock, she turned the deadbolt. She turned the knob, but the door stuck—just like always. She kicked the bottom and pushed hard. Muttering a curse, she leaned against the door with her weight.
The door gave as if someone had tugged from the inside—and someone had.
Rachel fell forward with a stumble. Large hands caught her and strong arms stopped her fall. She pulled back, but then she froze. Only one man had eyes that dark—demon dark with specks of gold glittering in the depths. Gold—or maybe more like hell fire.
She stared into those eyes—so dark and glittering hot now—and the breath caught in her chest. Only one man had a magnetic pull on her that could take her breath like that and leave her heart pounding. And that man was Beck Burton.
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Chapter 2
He staggered to keep them both from toppling to the floor. Who the hell was barging into the apartment? Once he had his footing back, he glanced down. His first thought was that a gorgeous woman had just fallen into his arms. He started to smile. And then she looked up at him.
No way—no way.
The words chased through his head and he stared at her, his heart pounding and his breathing staggered, as if he’d just come out of the ring from a losing fight.
Rachel.
Her name managed to penetrate the fog wrapping around his brain. After all this time. Her complexion was as clear as ever. Her auburn hair was pulled up at the back of her head, leaving long tendrils loose around her face, framing her deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. She stared up at him. He let his stare follow down over her body, over the curves hinted at under her sweater and jeans.
The anger he’d felt the last time they’d spoken came rushing back. That damn stupid argument where he’d said way more than he should have, and she’d stared at him like he’d grown horns and a tail. It was like it had happened yesterday.
He’d wanted an argument back from her—explanations at least for the gossip he’d heard. Instead, she’d stared at him, eyes wide, looking like a terrified rabbit. A lot like today, in fact.
That was until she’d straightened, told him to go to hell and take his temper with him. And then she’d walked out. Walked away and vanished. He’d gone looking for her—to apologize back then. But when he hadn’t found her, the anger had turned inward and had grown. It was still there—dark and looming and ready to explode.
He clamped down on it and pushed her onto her feet. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
Tucking his hands under his armpits he was not going to admit that his palms itched with the need to reach out and touch her again. To pull the clip out and run his hands through her luxurious hair. To wrap his body around her own and find out if the chemistry between them was still a raging inferno.
The Fighter's Secret Child (The Burton Brothers Series Book 3) Page 1
