by Quinn, Cari
“It’s so.”
I stepped forward and grabbed her waist, pulling her close. “For the record, I prefer you without clothes.” I bit her earlobe. “And that part of you is all mine.”
“Now who’s a Neanderthal?” She elbowed me back, but there was no missing her smile. Carly clearly didn’t, because she looked between us as if she couldn’t quite trust what she was seeing.
I knew the feeling.
Ever since I’d walked into Mark’s last night, I’d been waiting to wake up and return to the way things were before my injury. I’d caged all the elephants in the room—her nearly telling me about her past, her upcoming fight with that bastard—just to live in denial a little longer. It was worth it.
“So what does the dress-up thing have to do with Costas and Carly?”
Mia averted her gaze. “She offered to go out with him if he fought me.”
“No,” I said immediately. “Not happening. Off the table.”
“Excuse me?” Carly pushed Mia aside and got in my face. Like sister, like sister. “Balling Ame doesn’t mean you have any right to say what I do.”
“You’re about to step on my toe.” I kept my voice mild as I glanced down at Carly’s sharp-heeled boots. “I wouldn’t advise that. I also wouldn’t advise you to insult my relationship with your sister, which isn’t your concern if I’m not allowed to be worried about your welfare.”
She stepped back and angled her head. “I’m not a child.”
“No one said you were.” I gentled my tone. “He’s a prick, Carly, and not because he beat me. I’ve heard some stuff that would change your mind about him.”
“Like what?”
“For one thing, he’s been in prison.” For petty shit, best as I remembered, but I didn’t elaborate. In my mind, being in prison for something small was similar to being a little bit pregnant. Neither status existed.
She tossed a quick glance at Mia. “You’re sure about that?”
“I’m as certain as I can be without seeing his arrest record. He’s also been with a lot of women. He’s not nice about it when he’s done with them either.”
Whether I tacked on that last bit for Carly’s benefit or mine, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t exactly a saint when it came to women myself. In fact, my relationship with Mia—if it could be called that—was probably the longest I’d ever had.
Forget probably.
“What else?” Carly demanded. “He kicks puppies and robs grannies of their lunch money?”
“Isn’t that enough? You don’t want to get mixed up with him. If you don’t trust your sister’s opinion, trust mine. I know his type.”
“That’s all people are to you? A type?” She looked back and forth between Mia and me. “You don’t think people can change?”
This shit was getting way too deep for this early in the morning. I rubbed my aching sinuses. I’d need another hot shower just to breathe. “I’m giving it to you straight. You do with my advice what you want.”
I wasn’t about to tell her that I didn’t much care if she heeded my warning, since I’d be delivering a much stronger version of my speech to Costas very soon.
“Does it hurt a lot?” Carly asked in a small voice. “Your eye?”
I dropped my hand from my head. “Well, it’s not—”
“Yes, it hurts a lot,” Mia interjected. “If I stuck my fist in your eye, would it hurt?”
“I don’t know. How about if I put my fist in your mouth and we’ll see?”
“Ladies—”
They edged toward each other, fists up. If this had been a porno, it might’ve been hot. In real life, I really didn’t relish trying to separate these two, especially since I only had one intact eye left.
Mia lowered her arms and let them hang at her sides. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
With obvious reluctance, Carly did the same. “You’re worrying for nothing.”
“You’re all I have,” Mia whispered, her voice thick. “I won’t let anyone harm you, ever. If that makes me a horrible big sister because I love you so much, well then, fine.”
Tears welled in Carly’s eyes. “I love you too. You know that.”
“Yeah.” A tear rolled down Mia’s cheek. “I do.”
Carly rushed into Mia’s arms, and they started doing the same rocking/dancing/sobbing thing they had the first night Mia had brought me home. That lasted about five minutes. Then they pulled apart and with mutual water-logged grins, started cleaning up the mess they’d made.
“Man, I’m glad I was an only child.” I stepped over my dog to go look for my clothes.
When I returned wearing my jeans—and only my jeans—the kitchen was back to rights. Mia stood at the counter, chopping vegetables. Carly manned the oven, using oversized mitts to lift out something in a big casserole dish.
They were cooking for an army. Not that I minded. I was hungry enough to do a decent imitation of one.
Carly glanced up at me and grinned. “Hey good-lookin’.”
Mia sighed. “Fox, why are you still half naked?”
Still Fox. I might never be Tray again. “You owe me a rubdown, which I sorely need.” I returned Carly’s grin and sauntered over to Mia. Sliding my arm around her waist, I pressed a kiss to her hair. “I wanted to make it easier for you.”
“You’re worried about me, sis?” Carly snorted. “This dude’s asking you for sexual favors right in the middle of breakfast. Actually, before breakfast.”
“We covered that hours ago. Catch up, squirt.” I laughed as Carly stuck out her tongue at me.
“I have to finish these vegetables for our omelets. I’m due at work soon.”
“Okay. I’ll go hang upside down and hope the mucus drains out on its own. Since I can’t blow my nose and all.”
Carly transferred her casserole dish back to the oven. It looked like a quiche, only thicker and fluffier. “What happens when you blow your nose?”
“You don’t want to know.” Mia reached in the cabinet above her head for a small jar. “Go on and sit in the living room. I’ll be right in.”
Shaking her head, Carly took over on the vegetables. “Kinky bitches.”
I walked into the living room and stretched—Mia’s twin bed hadn’t done much for my back—before perching on the arm of the sofa. “What time do you get off?”
Mia tapped her chin as she came toward me. “I think it was around ten, ten-thirty, and four a.m.?”
Her grin caught me completely off-guard. I liked it a lot. Hell, I loved it.
“You forgot four-thirty and four forty-five,” I murmured, tugging her between my legs.
“No, I didn’t. Trust me.”
“You guys are sick,” Carly called.
“Rephrasing my question.” Hoping her sister was occupied mixing or stirring or pureeing, I rubbed Mia’s ass, enjoying the way it filled my palms. “When are you done tonight?”
“Four. Then I have three hours at the gym.” She unscrewed the top of the jar, and a minty scent filled the air.
“Perfect. Let’s go out.”
She blinked at me. “Excuse me?”
“Tonight. Let’s go out.”
“On an actual date?” More blinking.
I snagged Mia’s apron, tugging her closer. “Well, as much as I love staying in, we’ve never gone on a date.” I nuzzled her jaw as she dredged her fingers through the pale-colored salve in the jar. “You know, dinner. A movie. Lots of making out in the back row.”
“Ugh. Gross.” Carly felt the need to weigh in yet again.
Mia motioned for me to move back with a wiggle of her coated fingers. “Dinner where?”
“Angotti’s?” I suggested. “Best Italian in the borough.”
“Mine’s better. You’ve never had my Bolognese sauce—”
“Carly Ann?” Mia said sweetly.
“Yes?”
“Please butt out.” Mia smeared some of the stuff on my chest. It warmed my skin, but not unpleasantly. “Sandra Bullock?
”
Now it was my turn to blink. “Huh?”
“There’s a new Sandra Bullock movie—” She broke off and flushed at my horrified expression. “Never mind. We can go see Turbo Thrust Three.”
“Is that a porn flick?”
By now, ignoring Carly was the standard drill. “I can deal with Sandra Bullock,” I muttered, grateful that Slater wasn’t around to hear me turn in my man card.
“Really? Are you sure?” Mia slathered on more goop and swirled her fingers in a fast motion that created more warmth elsewhere. “We don’t have to see that one. I’m okay with the car movie.”
“Car porn.” Carly snorted.
“Angotti’s and Sandra sounds good.” I leaned forward and closed my mouth over hers. Her hands kept moving even while we kissed.
Multitasking made me hot.
Eventually, she pulled back, right about when Carly’s distress noises reached critical mass. “I gotta get back to my veggies.”
“Veggies are already chopped, Ame,” Carly replied. “No thanks to you.”
“Your duty with me is done. Thanks, baby.” I lowered my voice. “I’ll remember to actually bring the condoms tonight.” Then I slapped her ass, making her squeal. And grin.
That grin could carry me for days. Maybe weeks. Though I was glad I wouldn’t have to wait that long to see it again.
Two hours later, I strolled into The Cage—minus my shitty eye patch—for the first time in over a week. I couldn’t say I’d missed it.
Joe met me near the entrance. “Hey, man. How you doing?”
“Not too bad.” We fist-bumped and talked about the usual stuff until Slater appeared, fifteen minutes after I’d asked him to arrive. He wasn’t a morning person, proven by the way he was knuckling his eyes like a cranky five-year-old.
“Is he here?” he asked without preamble.
I smiled at Joe. “My source says he’s in the weight room. Must be our lucky day.”
“What are you boys planning on?” Joe asked, his interest obvious.
“Not boys. Just me. Slater’s here to keep Timmins busy. I don’t need backup.” I clapped Joe on the shoulder and headed toward my target.
Stares followed me, heavier than any weight bar. None of the guys quite knew how to approach me now. I’d never been a loser in their eyes before.
They’d be even more confused about how to approach me once I made my announcement. I’d had a lot of time to think while I’d been laid up. As the days passed, the need for vengeance had passed. Costas had beat me, but all things considered, things were looking up. I didn’t need to prove anything by kicking his ass.
I’d prove a lot more by actually manning up enough to walk.
Costas was doing crunches when I entered the weight room. A couple of guys were doing pull-ups on the opposite side of the room. Otherwise, we had the place to ourselves.
I crouched at Costas’ side and gave him a wide smile. “Hey there. Nice to see you.”
He faltered for an instant before returning to his reps with even more vigor. Posturing was the name of the game. “Not so nice to see you. You’ve looked better, my man.”
“Yeah, well, shit happens. Mine can be fixed with surgery. Yours…well, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”
“What do you want?”
“Now, see, that’s not the way to talk to a fellow competitor. How long have you been training here?”
I knew exactly how long. He’d strutted into The Cage less than three months ago. Word was he’d run into some trouble at his last gym in the Bronx. He seemed to have a talent for getting into fights.
A talent or a predilection. I never took anything at face value. For all I knew, maybe Costas wanted to be known as a troublemaker. We all had our own reasons.
Costas popped to his feet, bouncing back and forth on his shiny sneakers. “Listen, I don’t have time for games. I’m here to train and win. So were you once. Maybe you should consider if your payday is worth the cost.” He pointed at my eye. “Looks pretty fuckin’ painful, dude.”
Back to the payday crap again. Those rumors had dogged me for months. Some guys had decided I’d won so much because I had the right people in my pocket, and those people must be paying my competitors to lose. Then they’d begun speculating how long it would be before they put their money on another fighter, and I’d start taking a dive instead.
A drug dealer from the east side had done me the favor of sketching out a potential earn-out schedule, the one I thought I’d left in my jacket the day before I’d given it to Mia. It meant a guaranteed payday—no worries about losing, since that would become my goal—and I’d face less risk of getting hurt because I’d be bowing out in the first or second round.
Like…oh, what had happened last Friday night.
I scraped my hand over my scalp. “Out of curiosity, how many dumbass motherfuckers do you know who get knocked out cold to throw a fight?”
Costas stared at me, obviously weighing his words. “Just because I changed up the game plan on you doesn’t change yours. You expected to get a green fighter you could easily goad into getting you to tap out after some grappling. You claim you had an off night, and you walk away with a fatter wallet. Me, I have to deal with the whispers that I’m a chump who can’t win on his own.”
“You jabbed my eye multiple times in the first round. You know that shit’s not allowed.”
He shrugged. “If you can play dirty, so can I.”
“Oh, and as for a fatter wallet, you do realize how many small time players we have betting on these fights, right? Or is your green dick taking too much of the blood supply to your brain?”
Costas’s eyes flashed, and he eliminated most of the space between us. If he expected me to be scared, he’d soon realize the error of his ways. Just because I’d been a mess when I walked into the ring the other night didn’t mean I wouldn’t get my own back, busted eye and all.
I had something to fight for now.
“Yeah, and we also have plenty of big time ones. People love promoting winners and making kings out of nobodies.” He jabbed a finger in my chest, officially kicking me over the line from merely annoyed to fucking pissed. “For all I know, they got a package deal with you and your little piece of ass. Are you working in tandem to discredit real fighters now?”
I shoved him back against the wall, throwing an arm bar across his throat he couldn’t have dislodged on his best day. “You say whatever you want about me. Tell everyone you want that you think I’m a shady motherfucker who’s become too much of a pussy to risk his pretty face on a real bout and takes the sure money instead. But don’t you dare say a fucking word about her or it’ll be the last thing you ever say. Count on it.”
Costas hissed out a breath and cut a glance behind me. “Big fucking talker when you have your buddies behind you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Slater, Joe, and Emerson crossing the gym. They didn’t look real friendly either.
“I don’t need backup,” I said, loudly enough for them to hear. “Do I look like I need fucking backup?”
“Yeah, well, you’ve got it, Fox. Punk ass bitches who come in off the street and try to take over need to be put in their place.”
Emerson. What the hell? He’d only been training with us for a few weeks, and he’d never been anything but mild-mannered and polite. The rumor mill had been spinning overtime lately that he and one of the other fighters had something going. Ever since that talk had started, he’d been lying low. I didn’t care either way. A fighter was a fighter, and a friend was a friend. But as much as I liked the kid, I never would’ve guessed he would have my back.
Costas sneered. “You know who’s a punk ass bitch? That woman of yours. Came in here to bother me when I was minding my own business.” He shifted so that he could speak more clearly, but he wasn’t getting free until I decided to let him. “You should be happy I agreed to fight her. No one else would’ve. I’m actually giving her cred.”
“You’re
giving her nothing, because she’s going to take out your ass while you’re too busy kissing it.” He gasped out a laugh, and I tightened the pressure until his eyes bulged.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew he could kick out at me anytime, but he knew what kind of shit that would bring down on his head from my guys and me. Though I hadn’t planned on their presence, I couldn’t say I minded having help if necessary. Costas was a wiry, tough bastard, and he’d shown he didn’t care about playing by the rules.
Funny how he was the first one to cry foul about them being broken.
“Think I’m lying? Watch her take you down. And I swear to God, if you claim it was anything but fair and square, you’ll answer to me.” I pushed up on his chin until we were eye-to-eye. “Oh, and about that? If she even breaks a nail because you pull BS with her like you did with me the other night—the eye gouges and groin jabs—you’ll discover I’m much less tolerant when it comes to her safety. Remember that, fucker.” I banged his head against the wall and started to lower my arm, fully intending to let him go. He’d gotten the point.
Then again, maybe he hadn’t.
“What about her sister?” His smile gleamed with malice. “Such a pretty girl. So willing to give herself up to the cause—”
I was on him again so fast that he didn’t even have a chance to block the hit coming toward his jaw. It snapped back his head, but it didn’t stop the venom shooting from his blue-black eyes. “Stay away from Carly,” I snarled.
He rubbed his jaw, his lips twisting into a smirk despite the pain I knew he had to be in. My hand hurt like a bitch. “She gave herself to me fair and square,” he said, mimicking me. “Surely you don’t intend for your little sweet thang to renege on her deal? That wouldn’t be very sportsmanlike.”
As tempted as I was to hit him again—and boy, was I tempted—I had a date tonight. An actual date with a woman I hadn’t believed would ever go out with me. Or ever let me hold her as she slept, as she had last night. That was what mattered. Not this asshole. But I’d drive the message home one more time, just in case.
I flexed my sore knuckles, examining them. “You ever have someone you love, Costas?”
“Yeah, I’ve loved somebody.” He spat the words as if they were poison.
