by Quinn, Cari
Yeah, she was. Impressively so. If I’d been looking for someone to take to the next level skill-wise, she would’ve been the perfect choice.
I wasn’t. I wanted a girlfriend. I wanted her.
I rubbed my aching forehead. Everything ached, including my hands. I’d walloped Costas good, even though he’d won.
Cold comfort.
It was probably good she wasn’t at the hospital. I couldn’t see her right now. I appreciated her wanting to exact revenge or whatever she was trying to do—or hell, perhaps she’d decided she wouldn’t get any money from fighting me, so why not take on the new champ—but that wasn’t what I needed from Mia.
I wanted her at my side. Not in front of me, not behind me. Elbow to fucking elbow.
But that didn’t mean I held out a lot of hope. Getting cracked in the skull had finally driven home that us being a couple might not be in the cards, now or ever. No matter how much I wished otherwise.
I’d let her completely tie me up over the last couple of weeks. That had to stop. I couldn’t take care of someone who wouldn’t let me. I also couldn’t take care of her when my own ass was hanging in the wind. Literally, since I could feel the breeze on my frigging butt every time I moved.
That didn’t mean I intended to turn my back on her. I needed to take a few days to get myself straight. Then I’d deal with Mia.
“While I’m in here… I need a favor, man.” I didn’t say any more and I didn’t look at him.
“Yeah.” Slater sighed. “Already on it.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Get better fast, because I seriously doubt I can contain her for long.”
I managed to smile, but it hurt like hell. “Already on it.”
Twenty-Six
“Are you sure about this?”
There were a lot of things I wasn’t sure about. Staying away from the hospital since Tray’s dad had chased me off was one of them. I hadn’t wanted to make things more difficult on his family, and besides, I didn’t belong in a place like that. I didn’t deserve a place of honor at Tray’s bedside.
I was just the girl who was going to put her own head on the line for him. And would enjoy—in my own sick, twisted way—doing it. The money I hoped to win would be a bonus. A big one, since I still needed it to get me and Carly out of town.
But first, I intended to kick Costas’ ass.
“I’m sure.” I turned sideways and looked at myself in the gym mirror. I wore one of Carly’s V-neck tops. It was bright pink and had some kind of frilly crap on the sleeves. My bulky shoulders made it more snug on me, but I still wouldn’t draw too much attention with my non-impressive cleavage. “Is my shirt tight enough?”
Carly pursed her lips. “I still think you should’ve gone for the socks.”
“Thanks, sis.” She wasn’t wrong, but it was too late now. I was rocking the tits I’d been born with, and they’d either get the job done or they wouldn’t.
She moved behind me and started fussing with the snaps of my bra under the shirt. “No wonder. You had it on the loosest snaps.”
“So?”
“Plump the girls, watch the boys’ eyes whirl.” She re-clasped my bra and stepped to the side. “There you go. Much better. Now twist your nipples.”
I tilted my head and tried to ignore the slight warmth in my cheeks. I wasn’t happy I actually looked like I had boobs for once. Absolutely not.
“Hello? Earth to Ame. Nipple twist.”
I was not doing this. I so wasn’t.
Except I was.
“Good job.” She nodded and dug through her makeup bag of tricks. “You need more mascara.” She approached me with the wand of purple gunk, issuing commands for me to “look up” and “look down” and bat my lashes to get the clumpy stuff off. I felt like a cross between a showgirl and a streetwalker, but as long as I got what I wanted, it would all be worthwhile.
Even enlisting my sister to help me, as skeevy as I felt about it. I wanted her far away from this world yet I might as well have offered her an engraved invitation.
I hadn’t exactly asked her to come to the gym with me, but I knew my sister. She’d insist on being at my side no matter what. And for once, I was happy not to be alone.
The faster she made me up, the faster this all would be over. For both of us.
Next came glittery eyeshadow and enough lipstick to make me feel like Miley Cyrus’ forgotten twin. Carly fussed with my hair, finally pulling it up in a high ponytail that bounced down my back. It wasn’t all that felt too bouncy. So did my ass in those tiny boy shorts under my super short black mini, also courtesy of my sister.
She took a moment to tie off her hair into two long pigtails and whisk brushes and tubes over her face. Then she turned to me and blinked her enormous blue eyes in silent contemplation.
“Well?” I demanded.
“Almost there. Now you practice the walk. Observe.” She strutted toward the full-length mirror on the opposite wall, pivoted, and walked back. Her hips shimmied to their own beat. “See? Easy. You try.”
I tried to imitate what I’d seen. Carly’s laughter told me I hadn’t succeeded.
“C’mere. Watch me.” She slapped her hands flat on the wall, stuck out her butt and swiveled her hips. “If your hips don’t sway right, it all falls apart. Work ’em in a slow circle. Simulate sex.”
“I don’t simulate sex while walking,” I muttered.
She laughed again and guided me over to the wall before fastening her palms to my hips. “Work with me, okay? Follow my hands.”
I followed them, and after a few minutes, I started to get the hang of it. After what seemed like my fifteenth trip down the locker room catwalk, she declared me, “not hopeless.”
“You have great fucking legs. Seriously. Master the walk and you’ll have any guy eating out of—” She paused and grinned. “Let’s just say you’ll do fine.”
“God, you scare me sometimes.” I tugged her toward the door. “Let’s get this done.”
We headed down the hall. Strutting, sashaying, wiggling our butts. We probably looked like overly made-up cats in heat.
While strutting, I cast the side-eye at anyone who took too much interest in my sister. I’d recruited her help against my better judgment, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t kick some serious ass if need be.
I was kind of hoping I’d get the chance.
“Where are all the chicks?” Carly asked.
It was a reasonable question. We’d been the only ones in the ladies’ room for the entire twenty minutes we’d been puffing and buffing or whatever the hell women called that stuff.
“They’re allowed to join, but they usually don’t last long,” I explained. “This is strictly old boys’ network territory.”
“So the two of us in our push-ups will either be mocked or mounted on sight?”
My lips twitched. “We just have to keep our eyes on the prize.” This was said for her benefit, not mine, since I faced overt displays of toned manflesh on a daily basis. My sister did not. To be honest, I didn’t have a lot of faith in her standing strong in the face of temptation, but even Bonnie had needed her Clyde.
My Clyde happened to have a vagina, which suited me just fine.
“I’m still not sure how you think us looking hot will get this Costas guy to fight you.”
I wasn’t either. If I’d had any other options, I would’ve employed them. Since I couldn’t even manage to get Costas to return my phone calls, a sneak attack with thrusting breasts seemed like my best shot. I’d flirt and tease him into agreeing.
Or Carly would, since my idea of flirting and teasing consisted of trying to break a guy’s jaw. That probably wouldn’t work here.
“We have to disarm him. Right now, he thinks I’m a joke. If we can get his dick in play, he’ll stop thinking with his big head and resort to the little. Trust me, I’m around these clowns on a daily basis.” I took a deep breath and glanced over my shoulder at Carly as I reached for the doo
r handle to the machine room. “But remember. They’re only for looking. No touching.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She glanced down and tugged on her nipples again.
I didn’t do the same. If mine had gone soft, too damn bad.
“No riding the ponies, just a little stroking. Gotcha.”
“We’re only here to stroke one of them, Carly Ann.” I made my voice stern. “And leave most of that to me. You promised.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be a good little minion for my big sister.”
“I’m serious. I never would’ve brought you along if I didn’t think I could trust you to let me handle this situation.”
“Stop wigging out and hang on a sec.” She dragged out her phone.
I sighed. “Carly—” A flash popped in my face and I snarled. “What was that for?”
She grinned and motioned for me to proceed. “Evidence for Fox that you totally can look like a hot chick. Not that you don’t every day,” she added hastily.
“Uh-huh.” But I was smiling as I tugged open the door.
Machines clanged, rap music blared, and laughter rang out, mixed with grunts and expletives. All seemed to halt when Carly and I stepped across the threshold, though that was probably just my extreme self-awareness talking. But I didn’t imagine the distinct, “Holy shit,” that sounded from a few feet away. Followed by an equally distinct, “Damn, look at those tits.”
I was reasonably sure they weren’t talking about mine. A tighter bra could only do so much.
“Stay behind me,” I muttered over my shoulder into thin air. No Carly. She had already pushed in front of me—hips working, pigtails bouncing, eyes scanning the rows of eager, drooling men draped over machines that had, for the most part, gone still.
“Do you see him?” she asked in an unnaturally loud whisper.
A guy lifting weights leered. “You can see me, baby.”
“Gross.” She turned her back on him to look at me. I sincerely hoped she wasn’t paying attention to the obvious enjoyment the men were receiving from the view of her ass in her short skirt. “Is he here?”
With effort, I relaxed my fists—old habits don’t die at all, especially when it came to protecting my baby sister—and glanced around the gym. Kizzy had tapped her contacts and gotten me intel that said Giovanni would be at The Cage all afternoon, but I didn’t see him on any of the treadmills or weight benches or rowing machines.
Disappointment nearly as sharp as the tang of sweat in the air moved through me. “No. Dammit, he’s not.”
“Looking for someone, ladies?”
The deep baritone made me spin around, fists already extended. My gaze landed on Giovanni’s disgustingly handsome face. His gaze, however, was firmly glued to my sister. Specifically, her breasts. From the way his tongue was about to fall out, I had to assume he appreciated her additional nipple tweaking.
Though from the starstruck look on her face, that extra activity wasn’t what was making them so perky right then.
“Carly Ann,” I snapped.
“Carly Ann, hmm?”
He spoke like he was rolling caramel through his mouth. It didn’t do a damn thing for me, but I could tell others who shared my DNA were not similarly unaffected.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Is Carly short for anything?”
“Yes. It’s short for ‘try it and I’ll make sure you taste your nuts every time you swallow for the rest of your life.’” This I delivered with a smile that could’ve melted his caramel right off the stick.
His easy smile disappeared, and Carly broke out of her trance long enough to whack my arm. Then she resumed staring at Giovanni’s bare back as he twisted away to grab a towel. He wore just a pair of black track pants, and I fully expected my sister drop into the fetal position and whimper at any minute.
Ink covered his back from neck to waist. The intricate black designs contained dabs of violent color that offset the heavy bands and swirls. I couldn’t decipher any logical pattern to the tats, though I wasn’t about to look long enough to find out. But I didn’t miss the way he flexed and bunched his muscles before he faced us again.
Showoff.
Another thing I didn’t miss? The tattoo on his right bicep that said no mercy above a single word: June.
Just…June.
“You must be Mia.”
His dismissive look would’ve offended me, had I given two shits what he thought. Since I didn’t, I only smiled wider. “Yes, I believe we met the other night.”
“When you were pulling my hair out like a girl?” He rubbed his towel over the dark hair in question. It hung thickly to his corded shoulders. Both the near-black strands and his shoulders were damp.
“You’re right.” I crossed my arms over my chest and shifted in front of Carly. “I shouldn’t have done that. You should let me make it up to you.”
Now his gaze dropped to my chest. “Drop your arms and we’ll discuss it.”
Oh, this guy was a fuckwit. I’d enjoy putting the drop on him. Maybe I’d choke him for a while before I got him to submit. Just for fun. “I’m not negotiating with my breasts.”
Okay, I sort of had been, but they’d only been the weapons I’d used to get me in the door. Now that I had his attention, I’d revert to my standard MO. No bullshit, no games. Lots of pain.
It had worked for me so far.
Giovanni angled his head and let his gaze wander down my body. “Your legs aren’t bad. Actually, I’d rate them higher than your breasts. Long and sexy.”
Nah, I wouldn’t choke him. That would allow him to pass out too easily. I’d kick and punch until his stomach was the same ugly blue as the 5150 tattoo just above his waistband. “I’d say the same about your penis, but I don’t want to contribute to your delusions.”
His eyes—not black, as I’d first guessed, but a dark blue one shade away—flickered back up to mine. “What do you want from me, Anderson?”
So he knew my last name. I’d make sure he remembered it.
“I want to fight you. I already have a bout scheduled two weeks from Friday against Fox. Now he’s out and you got him that way, so you owe me a match. I already checked around, and you’re free that weekend.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “A little girl like you in the ring with me?” He muttered something in Italian and cocked his head. “He’s out, is he? And still will be almost three weeks from now?”
The light of pride that came into his eyes made me step forward until we were toe-to-toe. “Remember those delusions I mentioned? You thinking you got anything but lucky Friday night is one of them. It won’t happen twice. And it won’t happen against me, because I’ll go straight for your balls. Assuming you have some, which I haven’t seen proof of yet.”
His eyebrow arched. “Am I supposed to be frightened?” He gave a mock shudder. “Honey, your boyfriend is the one who calculated and lost. I can’t be bought.”
Before I could dredge up a coherent response—what the hell was he talking about?—he started walking away.
“Wait,” Carly called out.
He stilled, but he didn’t turn back. “What, tesoro?”
Tesoro? I didn’t know what that meant, but it was probably an insult.
From Carly’s smile, he might as well have presented her with a bouquet of roses. “A real man doesn’t walk away from a lady until she’s done speaking.”
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, that would have a lot of effect with Mr. Machismo. I kept right on rolling them until he returned to us.
To Carly, I should say. He came to a halt in front of her and spoke quietly, without any of the conceit he’d employed with me. “What would you like to say?”
She blinked so fast I feared a seizure was imminent. Then she gestured to me. “Not me, my sister. She needs to talk to you.”
“Your sister.” He reached up to touch her hair and thought better of it when I cleared my throat. He let his hand drop. “How can this be?”
“She’s the sweet. I
’m the spice,” I said. “Now quit trying to score and focus, loverboy.”
Giovanni didn’t shift his attention from my equally eye-smitten sister. “Why should I? What’s in it for me if I fight you?”
“A date with me,” Carly blurted.
“Sold.”
He didn’t even hesitate. The bastard.
For a second, no one spoke. I didn’t even breathe. Then I snatched Carly’s arm and dragged her against my side. “No way. She’s a minor.”
She shook me off. “For two more weeks. Jesus. Loosen the apron strings.”
“Two and a half weeks.”
“So we will have our date after the fight.” He gave me an innocent look that fooled no one—except maybe my gullible baby sister. “I will be a perfect gentleman.” Then he sneered for my benefit. “Outside of the ring, that is. Inside? You want a fight? I’ll give you one.”
“I’m truly honored.” Asshole.
“A fight like that should attract plenty of attention,” he mused.
“Duh. Why do you think I’m doing it?”
“No damn clue.” He cracked his knuckles, still eyeing me up and down. “But if you choose to pretend you are a man, then I’m happy to oblige you.”
“Oh, you’ll oblige me, will you? I’ll be sure to—”
I broke off when Carly stepped forward and poked a finger in his chest. She was about a foot shorter than he was, but she didn’t shy away from his warning look.
“You, too, tesoro?” he asked, sounding tired.
“Don’t talk to my sister that way. She’s not pretending to be a man. Women fight. Is a man pretending to be a woman if he designs or cooks or creates?”
A hint of his cocky smile reappeared. “Well…”
“She could kick your ass. I hope she does.”
“You haven’t seen me in the ring.” He flicked his finger down her bare arm. “Or elsewhere. As I have not yet seen you.”
Another sound rumbled from my chest, and this one bordered on a growl. “Enough. You’re fighting me, not fucking her, so cool it. I’ll buy you an extra bottle of lotion for your consolation prize after you lose.” I hit him hard in the stomach as I passed, grabbing my sister’s hand as I went. His surprised “oof” made me shoot my sister a triumphant grin. Pretending to be a man, my ass. “Let’s go, Carly. We’re done with him.”
