Shadowboxer: Tapped Out Book 1

by Quinn, Cari

  “You’re still here?”

  “I am.” Spinning my bottle between my palms, I flashed her an easy smile. “Guess I’m awfully thirsty today.”

  Spiky grunted and sashayed away. Looked like I’d made another fan.

  “Get your job back?” I asked, half expecting Mia not to answer. She didn’t seem to be much of a talker, which made her the exact opposite of most of the women I’d met. If she ever frivolously giggled or chatted about shoes, I’d start blowing my beer myself.

  “What’s it to you?”

  Ah, the million dollar question. “If you’re gainfully employed, maybe you’ll see fit to return my jacket sometime soon.”

  She lifted a brow. “I never said I wouldn’t return it.”

  “Then?”

  She strolled over to serve a pair of older guys who had ambled up to the bar while I waited. Much to my surprise, she chatted with them in an entirely natural way I wouldn’t have guessed she was capable of.

  So that meant I was the problem. For whatever reason, she closed down around me. At least she liked my coat.

  A vague itch settled between my shoulder blades as she did her job. She still hadn’t offered to help me, yet she attended to every other customer promptly. By the time I reached the bottom of my beer, I was edging toward annoyed.

  Outside the ring, very few things bothered me. I endeavored to keep it that way. My dad thought I had my head in the clouds, or more succinctly, up my ass. I saw it as emotional management. What I didn’t dwell on couldn’t stress me out.

  Maybe that was my problem. I’d dwelled on Mia too much since yesterday. No wonder my head was starting to throb. The one above my neck in this case. The one below my waist had been on standby since I’d seen Mia in my jacket.

  She finally made her way back over to me long after my throat had dried to dust, and I’d resorted to tapping my thumbs against the bar. I wouldn’t report her. For all I knew, she was a masochist and got off on that kind of thing.

  I made a living out of waiting for an opponent to reveal his weakness before I struck. Mia wouldn’t knock me out of my rhythm.

  “Still here?” she asked over her shoulder, passing me to serve her latest patron.

  Almost happy hour and everyone was getting lubricated but me. “Yes.”

  “Still thirsty?” she questioned on her next trip.

  “Yes,” I replied, well aware she wasn’t listening.

  She stopped to talk to a guy with wavy dark hair. He tossed it back out of his eyes every few moments as if he had a permanent twitch. TV shampoo commercials had nothing on this dude.

  “Bet she’s setting up something for later,” Spiky said with a smirk and a finger gesture that I was reasonably certain indicated a money exchange.

  I hadn’t even seen the other bartender approach. I was too fixated on Mia, who was now leaning toward the dark-haired guy. She had her mouth against his temple.

  My hand fisted around the empty beer as something nasty brewed in my gut. I wasn’t jealous by nature. The feeling was almost as foreign to me as love. Despite my issues with them, I loved my parents—distantly, in a very hands-off sort of way. I had buddies I was close to. My best friend, Slater, especially. I’d occasionally been jealous in school when other guys beat me at a track meet or asked out the girl I’d wanted to invite to Prom. But this felt much more personal.

  “D’you want a drink now?”

  I started to answer Spiky. Then Mia drew back from the guy and he reached out for her, aiming for either her forearm or her breast. Hard to tell. Annoyance flared over her face, transforming her expression from flirty to lethal in a heartbeat. I’d already started to rise when she grabbed the beer bottle beside her elbow and broke it over the edge of the bar. They were too far away for me to hear what was said, but from her come hither gesture and the shocked gasps that erupted around them, I figured she’d responded to his advances with one of her own.

  I sank back in my seat, surprised and impressed. She could handle herself. Any woman who didn’t take shit from a man immediately rose in my estimation.

  And sometimes my rising estimation decided to show itself in painful ways.

  Wincing, I shifted on the stool. Christ, what was I? Sixteen? I hadn’t gotten near her, and my balls were already aching.

  “So what were you saying about her setting up something?” I asked Spiky with a grimace that only partly had to do with the bartender’s sneer in Mia’s direction.

  Spiky slapped her arms over her heaving chest. “You want another beer or what?”

  Mia strode toward us, her posture so rigid I feared she’d punch me rather than the hair tosser. Perhaps feared wasn’t the right word. My cock stiffened more at the possibility.

  Speaking of masochists…

  “Sure.” I slid the empty toward Spiky.

  Spiky shuffled off as Mia took her place. “Why the hell are you still here?” Her voice was way too loud considering people still watched her with wary eyes.

  She must not mind the crazy bitch label. Another notch in her column. Another inch in my pants.

  All right, half inch. Maximum capacity loomed larger with every passing second.

  “I was thirsty.” I rolled my tongue over my lips and waited for her to growl. All she did was stare at my mouth, like she was starving and I’d just given her an all-access pass to the buffet. Leaning in, I moved as close the bar would allow. “I can see you’re too busy to refill my drinks. Maybe I need to set up something with you for later. Is that how it works?” I hadn’t meant to say that, but from the wild flash in her eyes, I’d hit the target.

  Her hand swung up and I caught it, bending her fingers into her palm and then lifting her knuckles to my lips. Hadn’t planned that either. This impetuous crap was getting out of control.

  “You have something that belongs to me.” Quickly, I released her, since I suspected from the panic contorting her face that she’d snap her wrist to get free. “Let’s talk about it after you’re done with work.” Then I’d question her thoroughly about what she’d probably already found in my pocket.

  “Why shouldn’t I just hand it over right now?” The quick pace of her breathing made mine speed mine up to match.

  “You could. But I’m getting the idea you want to be alone with me. Isn’t that what he was all about?” I jerked my head toward the other end of the bar. “You’ve been ignoring me, knowing all the while it’s turning me on so much I couldn’t fucking walk out of here right now if I wanted to.”

  Her lips trembled open, and for a second, I wasn’t certain she wouldn’t use my recently delivered fresh beer to threaten me as well.

  Bring it. If she wanted to fight, I’d let her expend her energy that way before we worked on expending mine in another.

  She drew herself up, throwing her shoulders back and her breasts out in a move that wasn’t meant to seduce. I’d seen that same puffed chest thing more times than I could count in the ring. “Fine.” She tilted her head and her overlong bangs tangled with her lashes. “Give me your address. I’ll come by later.”

  “When do you get off?” I hadn’t intended to make the question sexual, but from her soft noise of disgust, she’d obviously taken it that way. “And women call men perverts. Christ.”

  She gave me what might’ve been a real smile. Rare as a rainbow from her, and twice as beautiful. “I’m done at ten.”

  I looked at my watch. A quarter to six. I’d already been at Vinnie’s since three-thirty. Watching the game replays, crunching peanuts, sipping my beer. I’d headed to the bar in shirtsleeves because the afternoon sun had felt warm. Big mistake. If I stuck around, I’d freeze my ass off on the walk back tonight.

  Unless she finally coughed up my damn jacket.

  Good thing I wasn’t in any hurry to leave. Besides, I didn’t trust her to follow through on her word to come to my apartment.

  “Give me a dinner menu.” I quirked a brow at her huff of breath. “I’ll wait.”

  Eight


  I couldn’t believe he stuck around.

  Everything I knew about Fox Knox indicated he had a lot of patience in the ring and very little elsewhere. He didn’t go through an elaborate pre-fight routine like I did. His training seemed hit-or-miss. I’d heard he didn’t even watch his opponent’s matches anymore. People said he was slowing down and spacing out his bouts while he figured out what he wanted to do next. I figured he was just getting bored.

  I didn’t even want to think about his reputation with women. The local fast food joint had a number served. He probably had a number on his bedpost of those who’d served him.

  The guy was cynical, just as I was. Whether that was a new condition or a permanent personality trait, I didn’t know. Fighting me would be a new challenge. And if he took it as a joke, as something not worthy of his time, I’d beat him with even less trouble. I didn’t mind being the long shot. I’d been that before and I’d survived. I’d survive Fox too.

  I’d probably be the butt of plenty of jokes for daring to challenge a local legend, but no one could dispute that I had a good fight record. I trained relentlessly, watched my diet with rare exceptions, and kept my mind on the cage at all times. My skills in the martial arts I’d devoted myself to were as honed as my body. But I was still a woman, and that put me at a disadvantage with someone who topped me in both height and weight. And experience.

  If Fox consented to fight me, I didn’t know of many people who would back me, other than those curious to see if he’d really take me on—or to see if I’d get killed. The underdog position always brought out a few sentimentalists.

  As for the noise our match would generate? I couldn’t imagine. Women’s fights didn’t get nearly the notice that the guys’ fights did. I could keep going toe-to-toe with other female fighters, but I’d met up with most of the locals already, and we didn’t get much fresh blood. Lack of interest equaled lack of opportunity to make serious dough.

  The men, on the other hand, lured in fighters from all over and had an enthusiastic fan base. Enthusiasm meant money. We staged matches in a variety of converted warehouses and occasionally, in a gym or Karate school on a rotating basis in the boroughs. The one thing all the locations had in common was enough room to accommodate the crowd. They were also held in relatively less densely populated areas that made it easier to hide. Or else the neighbors were too busy guarding their own illegal activities to care about ours.

  In terms of sheer spectacle, Fox taking on a woman no-holds-barred would be the ultimate. I’d heard of underground leagues that bragged of women-on-men fighting, but I’d never come across any here. Fox’s rep would be on the line. Not that he would ever believe he could lose. He was too cocky. I could use that to my advantage.

  Now I just had to convince him to say yes.

  I kept my head down throughout my shift, not wanting to attract any more attention after that beer bottle breaking incident. I was already on borrowed time with Carmine. Normally, I didn’t flirt much with customers, even when I was hoping to set up a hookup after my shift. And I wasn’t doing that anymore. I’d been hitting on that guy so hard for just one reason, and it wasn’t to increase my tips.

  I wanted to make Fox jealous.

  Which was pure insanity. I wasn’t the type of girl to pit guys against each another. I wouldn’t even know how. Why I’d believed Fox would care if I bent over and blew that guy right in the bar, I didn’t know. It was pure instinct. The instincts I usually operated from kept me alive. These were entirely different, and I didn’t know what to make of them.

  Add in the lust from earlier, and I was a full bag of crazy that would likely explode all over Fox the instant we were alone.

  But he’d wanted to meet privately, so we would. I’d have to give him back his coat, though I hoped he’d give me something even more precious. Once I had his agreement to fight me, I could get my mind back where it belonged—in the cage.

  The closer it grew to quitting time, the more nervous I became. Being on my feet all day had made me achy and sore and I wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a mug of cocoa. My bruises and assorted wounds from yesterday had started making themselves known again. Being sociable rated dead last on my To Do list. As usual.

  On the upside, I’d collected a bunch of tips, and Shell and I were back in our usual groove. Constance, the bartender with the spiky hair who’d served Fox, was long gone, and I’d been glad to see her go. She hated me, and I’d never understood why. I kept to myself and stayed out of trouble—well, most of the time. I tried to save my tendency to antagonize people for the place where I could make money from aggression.

  At ten, I went into the back room and put the communal share of my tips into the cup on Carmine’s desk. Luckily, he hadn’t witnessed my earlier meltdown. Then I pulled on Fox’s jacket, already missing it, figuring I could at least stay warm until we reached his place. The temperatures were hovering below freezing outside. I’d sneaked out on my break, not to smoke but to watch what Fox was up to when he couldn’t see me.

  Naturally, he’d noticed me watching him through the window while he leaned his ripped body across a pool table and flawlessly banked a shot. My heart had been racing ever since.

  I grabbed my purse then flipped my braid out from under his jacket while I hip-checked the pass-through. Part of me hoped he’d decided to take off. He could always demand his coat back another day. I didn’t get why he hadn’t yet. Somehow he’d gotten locked into this bizarre push-and-pull game we were playing too.

  I made it all the way to the door of the bar before I saw him waiting outside. Hands tucked in his jeans, head tipped back, long cords of his neck highlighted by the milky moonlight. His thin Henley shirt clung to his abs and billowed slightly in the frosty breeze. He had to be a block of ice.

  Guilt cut through me. Nice move, Mia. Freeze the guy to death. I hurried outside, about to remove his coat and hand it over when his soft command made me fall still.

  “Don’t.”

  Swallowing deeply, I fought the shiver that climbed up my spine. His shirt was every bit as blue as his eyes. I didn’t want to meet those eyes, but it was better than staring at the broad planes of his torso. The fabric revealed everything. He could’ve won a damn T-shirt contest without it being wet. Who needed big boobs when you had an eight-pack?

  “I’m okay. I live nearby. You should take this back.” Suddenly, wearing Fox’s coat seemed way too intimate, like I’d slipped on his boxers or something. I was already crossing boundaries if we were going to fight. And we had to. That had been my end game for so long that I refused to give up on it now. I shrugged the jacket over my shoulders. “Here, please—”

  “No.” His hands covered mine, pulling the leather back into place. “I want you to wear it. You’ll turn into a popsicle otherwise.” While I stared up at him like a dummy, he slipped his hand in the pocket of his coat as if he was searching for something.

  After a moment, he shook his head. “Been snooping, huh?”

  “What?” I frowned, remembering the penny. “I didn’t think it was a big deal if I kept it.”

  “Is that so?”

  I nudged him back and drew my wallet out of my purse. I fished out a penny and slapped it in his palm. “There you go. Didn’t realize you were that strapped.”

  He stared at the penny. “What the hell’s this?”

  Jeez, how much had he had to drink? Good thing he wasn’t driving.

  “I took the one I found in the zipper pocket.” I scanned his eyes. He certainly looked fine. Too fine. “You okay?”

  “Of course I’m okay.” He tucked the penny away. “So, ah, you found a penny in my pocket? By itself?”

  I’d seen a lot of drunks in my day, but I’d never witnessed one who could talk so lucidly while acting completely bizarre. “Yes. Just one penny.” I paused between each word to give him time to keep up. “I’m not a thief,” I snapped, belatedly realizing that maybe he intended to try to bust me for stealing his cash.

  Tho
ugh I had taken unlawful possession of his jacket…

  “No, I didn’t mean that.” He blew out a breath and gestured ahead of him. “Can we walk?”

  “Why don’t I just give you back your coat? I don’t need the cops showing up at my door in the middle of the night.” I started to shrug it off again.

  “Wear it,” he commanded, his tone low and lethal.

  My fingers went lax around the sleeve. I might’ve even drooled a little. In a second, icicles would be forming on my chin.

  “I know you didn’t steal. I’m just looking for something. I thought I might’ve left it in my pocket, but obviously not.”

  He didn’t sound convinced. That made two of us. “If you refuse to take back your jacket now, why am I even going to your place? I’ll have to be without a coat sometime. Even if I go home in a cab after, I’m still only wearing this.” I tugged on my shirt, not catching where the conversation was going until the bus had sped right past the building. AKA my brain.

  Oh. He wants to fuck me.

  Harmless half-assed flirting and a touch of jealousy were one thing, sex another. Strangely, the idea wasn’t as abhorrent as I would’ve thought.

  I wasn’t sure what he saw in me. Even with his slightly crooked nose and the various pale scars that marred his golden skin, he was still closer to male model material than I’d ever seen in reality. A definite…spark existed between us, though that might’ve been a false positive. Most of the fighters I’d met seemed too selfish to care about getting anyone off but themselves. But I had a good feeling about Fox. I might’ve considered going through with it if I’d been sexually active. Big if. Since I hadn’t had sex in forever, he’d ask me questions I didn’t want to answer. Maybe he’d even think I was a virgin.

  I shook myself. What was wrong with me? Forget him thinking I was a virgin. I wanted to fight the man, not screw him. Evidently, I needed sleep.

  I needed to get the hell away from him.

  He stepped closer. “You think I’m like those other guys, huh? That I only want you for what you can give me?”