“So, he really did kill a guy in the octagon?”
He nodded.
Training for the role of a fighter, she never really understood the risks involved, the chances these guys took with their own lives or their opponents’ whenever they stepped inside the cage.
“It was a legal head kick. It was just one of those freak accidents.” He shook his head.
She kissed his forehead, wishing there was something she could do or say to help. “So, he’s not in any kind of trouble?”
“Walker says he will probably get a minimum sentence of three months for the unsanctioned fight . . . as long as they don’t find any drugs in his system.”
She pulled away and looked at him. “Will they?”
“I wish I knew for sure, but I’m not sure I even know my fighter anymore. Of all the dumb things . . .” His grip on her tightened. “Fucking Connor.”
“I know it’s easier to blame your brother for this, but Dane is a big boy. He made the wrong decision to compete by himself,” she said softly, hugging him closer. She couldn’t imagine the torment he must be battling at the moment—his fighter and friend in trouble and little he could do about it. And her heart ached for Dane, such a great guy—the last person on earth anyone would believe would be involved in this tragedy.
He buried his face against her, breathing deeply, his eyes closed. Then his hand slid below the edge of her tank top, sliding up her stomach slowly but with a determined desperation to cup her bare right breast.
She moaned when his thumb flicked across her nipple and she kissed the side of his head, his cheek, his lips.
Her gaze locked with his and in one quick motion, he stood and lifted her.
When he placed her on her bed moments later and they silently removed their clothing, her heart ached for him more than her body did. His fighters were like family to him. They were the only thing he cared about. Not being able to help one of them must be tearing him apart.
She lifted the bedsheet and he slid in next to her, moving close, his gaze locked with hers as he wrapped his arms tight around her. He kissed her gently, and the look in his eyes was one she didn’t recognize.
She kissed him again with more fervor than ever before, wanting him to know she was there for him, wanting him to take comfort in her.
He rolled them until his body hovered above hers. His forearms resting on either side of her head on the pillow. She ran her hands slowly down over his shoulders, along his strong, tattoo-covered arms and around the muscles in his back, holding his gorgeous body to hers. Clinging to it with a new desperation. He was so close, but she knew his heart was still out of reach and she struggled to find a way to convince him it would be safe with her. That he could trust her, let go of his insecurity about them together, and be with her—fully, unconditionally.
Moving away from her, his hands slid over her stomach, her ribs and over her breasts. She watched him as his gaze followed the path of his hands . . . and when it met her eyes once more, her breath caught.
This time was different.
This time he needed her more than he wanted her. The intensity of the look made her tremble and she reached for him again, drawing him closer, spreading her legs wider as he settled between them, his thick thighs pushing against hers.
He touched her face—the rough, callused, fighter hands a stark contrast to the soft, gentle caress. Then he trailed them the length of her body and gripped her hips as he thrust forward, his own hips pushing into her inner thighs as she raised her legs to wrap them around him.
He buried his head into her neck, kissing her, and shivers chased over her body. The need in his touch, in his kiss, in his gaze made her want to give him everything he couldn’t ask for. “Make love to me, Tyson,” she whispered.
His body froze for an instant and she thought maybe her words had broken the spell, but when he lifted his head to look at her, his gaze remained locked with hers. There was no more hiding his affection, his passion, or his love. She saw it all there in his expression as his body merged with hers and he entered her over and over, until she was clinging to him, as desperate for release as he was.
His body shook and her legs trembled around his waist, as they climaxed together in a wave of passion and ecstasy that only tormented thoughts and emotions could evoke.
Their labored breathing fell into a rhythm as he rested his forehead against hers.
“Is it okay if I stay here with you?” he asked, rolling off of her and drawing her into him, the pain in his voice tearing a hole through her, yet his words filling her heart.
“Of course,” she whispered as she softly kissed his lips.
And he did. Even when the sun’s first rays came through the window, he stayed.
* * *
Opening his eyes the next morning, Tyson experienced a moment of panic. Where the hell was he? Glancing around Parker’s bedroom, the familiar surroundings brought his heart rate back to normal and he turned to look at the woman lying next to him.
He’d never seen a woman first thing in the morning. She was still as perfect as the night before. Her blonde hair spilled across her pillow, and her exposed bare back beneath the edge of the sheet was soft and warm to the touch.
He couldn’t believe he’d stayed. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t been thinking. He’d been feeling hopeless and depressed over Dane’s issues. He weighed his options. Stay and deal with what would without a doubt be an awkward situation. Or slip away, like an asshole who’d just used her, before she woke up.
He had to go, but not that way. Touching her shoulder, he said her name.
She moaned in her sleep as she rolled onto her back. Her eyes opened slowly and she looked just as surprised to see him there. Surprised. Happy and relieved.
Shit. That just made things a whole hell of a lot worse.
“You’re still here.” She smiled and snuggled closer.
Oh God, she was killing him. He kissed her forehead before gently easing her away from him and getting up. “Yeah, I should really get going though.” He reached for his jeans on the chair next to her bed.
“I can make breakfast . . . all eighteen hundred calories of it,” she said, her voice teasing.
He forced a smile. “I need to go kill my brother and then go see if Dane needs anything.” He expected a crazy day ahead of him—one he wasn’t going to enjoy. Dealing with Connor, trying to help Dane figure out a way out of the mess he was in, reaching out to the family of the victim, which was customary among the fighting community as a show of respect . . . Nothing on that day’s list was anything he wanted to do. As he reached for his shirt, he fought the urge to climb back in bed with Parker and stay there.
“Tyson, about last night . . .” she was saying behind him and his mouth felt dry.
He had no idea how to explain last night. Not in a way she wouldn’t feel used anyway. He’d needed her. He’d needed the comfort she could offer. And he hated his own weakness. She deserved better than the way he’d treated her right from the day they’d met. “Parker, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . .”
Her cell phone rang on her bedside table and he’d never been so grateful for a ringing phone. He wasn’t sure he could handle an “about last night” conversation right now. Or ever. He had no idea what to say.
Looking frustrated by the interruption, she picked it up and glanced at the caller ID before setting it aside. “It’s just my agent.”
“Answer it.” He put on his T-shirt.
“I’ll call him back.”
He could sense she wanted to answer and he really wanted her to. “No, really go ahead.”
She did a second later.
He tried to look as though he wasn’t listening but he heard every word.
“Yes, of course I’m interested. Send them over,” she said, unconcealed excitement in her voice. “We start filming next week in LA . . .”
That’s right. She would be gone soon.
“Definitely we need to have drinks.
I’ll call you the minute I land . . . Okay, I have to go, though . . .”
A second later, she hung up. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem. Good news?” he asked, even though he knew he didn’t want to hear it.
“Not really. Just a few scripts he wants me to read. It’s been forever since that has happened.”
“That’s great. So you’ll be back in the spotlight in no time,” he said, hating the bitterness he detected in his own voice. He had no right to be angry with her. Yet, the idea of her moving on with her life and her career killed him, even though he’d just been ready to once again walk away from her.
Never in his life had he felt like such an asshole.
Parker stood, and crossing the room, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I have a few hours until I need to be at the hotel for the read-through, why don’t we go out to eat . . . and talk.”
Talk. As if that could solve anything. “I have to get to the gym.” He moved away from her and grabbed his shoes.
“Okay, well, I’m not sure when I’ll get there. The read-through will probably take most of the day . . .”
He pushed his feet into his running shoes without untying them. “Don’t sweat it. You’re just supposed to look good on screen anyway, right?”
Her face fell and he wished he could punch himself in the nuts. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I just meant you’re done training now anyway, right?” She’d gotten what she needed, and now she was moving on. And he needed to do the same. Even if it meant hurting her to push her away. The way he’d needed her the night before had rocked him like no punch inside the octagon ever had. The emotions spiraling through him as he’d made love to her had terrified him, but the way she’d clung to him, gave everything to him had only made him crave her even more. And he couldn’t have more . . . not if he hoped to be okay once she realized he wasn’t the right one for her and moved on.
“Yes. I guess so. I’ll just have to stop by to pick up the things I left in my locker,” she said quietly, studying him. “What’s with you?”
“Nothing. I’m just keeping things real, that’s all.”
“Keeping things real,” she repeated.
“Yes. You needed a place to train and now you’re done.”
Her eyes widened. “What about you? You had your own reasons for letting me train there. You never wanted me in your gym.”
She was right about that. He hadn’t wanted her ten miles near his gym or his heart, but she’d somehow weaseled her way into both. Now she had to leave. And he wished she’d hurry the hell up about it. “You’re right. And now we both got what we needed, so that’s it. We’re done.”
“That’s it? We’re done? Really?” She stared at him with disappointment in her dark eyes.
“Parker, you have your career back on track, you live a life I could never even pretend I could be a part of, and I have my own shit going on. Let’s just call this what it was.”
“What was it?” she asked, crossing her arms across her body as if she knew his next words would be a blow she’d need to protect herself from.
“A good time that eventually had to come to an end,” he said as he left the room, hating himself. This was exactly why he always left before dawn. This was why he didn’t get involved. One-night stands couldn’t break him the way her pained expression just had.
* * *
Seeing the Sportsnet reporter van parked in the front of his gym, Tyson drove his motorcycle around the side of the building and went in through the back door. Several fighters trained in the cage, but the place was much quieter than normal. A feeling of apprehension had settled over the gym and for the first time in his life he didn’t want to be there.
Leaving Parker that morning had been awkward and tense. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking the night before going to her house, but he’d been desperate and confused and he’d just needed to see her, hold her, be with her . . . But it hadn’t been the smartest or kindest thing to do when it had only made her look at him with renewed hope.
Which he’d then destroyed.
“Hey, guys,” he said as he passed the cage.
“How’s Dane?” Billy asked, leaning over the side.
News of the fight and the incident were all over every sports station that morning, and he hoped the guys wouldn’t pay too much attention to it all. They needed to be there for Dane. He was going to need all the support he could get. “I really don’t know much yet, but I’ll let you guys know what I find out okay? Try not to worry for now.”
Billy nodded.
“Your dad is in the office,” Carlos said.
Of course he was. The day wasn’t shitty enough already.
Walking in, he felt like a twelve-year-old kid again. “Hi, Dad.”
“I guess you know why there’s reporters outside.”
Everyone knew by now. “I was Dane’s phone call last night. Walker and I went down to the station. He’s pretty messed up, but Walker says as long as his bloodwork comes back clean, he should be . . .”
His father slammed the desk in front of him. Silencing him.
He clamped his lips together.
“I don’t care about Dane. I care about this gym, your career, your upcoming title match—the one you seem to have forgotten about.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“You also haven’t called the gymnastics trainer I told you to contact over a month ago.”
He hadn’t even remembered it until that very second. “I know. I’ve been distracted.” Understatement.
“Well, get undistracted!”
He swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
“I don’t think you do. What did I say about letting Connor back here? I said it would be a disaster and it was. I told you letting that actress play around in here was a mistake, and I don’t even need to ask where you were last night. So tell me something, Tyson—what the fuck are you doing?”
“Dad, I’m sorry. I’m focused on my fight now.” He had less than a week to get it together. After all of the hard work he’d put into his career, he refused to just let it all slip away in this landslide of destruction. “And this thing with Dane . . .”
“This thing with Dane is ending now. We are going to let that annoying reporter in and we’re going to release a simple statement: Dane Hardy is no longer affiliated with our gym. We offer our deepest condolences to the Consuelos family for their loss. The end. No more. Got it?”
His mouth dropped. His father couldn’t be serious. He expected Tyson to turn his back on his fighter when he needed him most? His friend? “Dad, Dane’s kick was a legal head shot . . .”
“Save it. We are done doing things your way. Dane is out.” He stood and opened the office door.
“No, he’s isn’t,” he said firmly.
His father stopped.
“I’m not turning my back on him.”
“You’re willing to ruin this gym’s reputation for some fighter who should have known better?” he asked angrily.
“It will look even worse if we walk away from him.”
His father stared at the display case on the wall. “Everything I’ve ever done was for this family, for you. And right now, I need you to be the son I raised and do what I’m asking you to do.”
“You raised me not to quit and I don’t. I’m not quitting on Dane either.”
Without a word, his father turned and stormed out of the gym, holding the door open for the reporter, who rushed in, followed by her cameraman.
Great. It had taken a whole team of people to bury him in this mess, and now he was on his own clawing back out.
Chapter 12
He remembered one of his father’s trainers saying years ago that the worst shots are the ones you aren’t expecting. You have no time to prepare for their blow and the impact they deliver. The worst emotions are the same. They come out of nowhere knocking you to your knees . . . and you go down.
Opening the door to his apartment hours la
ter, he finally understood what the guy had meant. A pair of his running shoes sat blocking the entrance and he almost tripped over them. Picking them up, his sighed. The laces were gone.
And so was Connor.
A discarded needle lay on the floor next to the couch and he threw his shoes across the room. He ran a hand over his head, standing there, without a clue what to do next. He’d put off confronting Connor the night before and that morning because he’d considered Parker’s words—that this was Dane’s fault for taking the fight. She was right. Dane would have found this opportunity to screw up his life even without Connor’s help, but his brother still had to learn to stay out of people’s business.
Looked like that wouldn’t be an issue anymore.
Grabbing a plastic bag, he picked up the needle from the floor, wrapped it, and tossed it into the trash. That was it. His brother was gone. He had no intention of getting his life back on track. He should have known better than to think otherwise. Maybe giving people the benefit of a doubt, being hopeful for a better outcome, trusting they would do the right thing was all bullshit.
Certainly seemed that way.
He went into his bedroom and his heart sank ever further as he noticed the closet door ajar. He hadn’t left it that way. He didn’t even need to open it to know the belt was gone. The day reached a record low and the desperation he felt was overwhelming. He had a fight in two days and he’d be walking into the cage without the belt, without his usual confidence and without hope.
Going into the bathroom, he turned the shower to hot and climbed in, rotating his aching shoulder, which wouldn’t ease up with the weight of the world resting on it. As the water poured down his back moments later, he rested his head against his arm. What the hell had he let happen to his life in a few weeks?
* * *
“Parker, your line,” Debbie, the actress sitting next to her, prompted the following day.
Sitting in the cool, air-conditioned hotel conference room, her mind someplace else entirely, Parker blinked. Damn, she needed to get it together. This movie was important; this role was what she’d been working hard for. She couldn’t let her flyaway thoughts take over as they had too many times that week already. “Oh, sorry . . .” She flipped the pages of her script. She’d totally lost track of where they were in the read-through. Again. “What scene are we on?” she whispered.
Fighting the Fall Page 18
