Shadowboxer: Tapped Out Book 1

by Quinn, Cari

  “Well, see, you’ve got a leg up on me. Because I’m not sure I ever did, not like this. So if you harm my woman or her sister, you’re going to force me to do something I might regret when I’m thinking straight.” I smiled. “Then again, I might not.”

  “Get the fuck out of here.”

  “With pleasure. Nice chatting with you.” Deliberately, I turned my back and sauntered away.

  Slater lifted a brow as I approached. “Another injury?”

  “Flesh wound, baby.” I flashed him a grin and patted him on the shoulder. I appreciated that he’d rounded up the troops to make sure my ailing ass was covered.

  “Knox,” Timmins barked from the doorway. “In my office. Now.”

  A few weeks ago, that voice would’ve inspired a healthy dose of nerves. Not now. “Sorry, Coach, I have somewhere to be.”

  I had an appointment for a walkthrough at NYU to see if we’d be a good fit. I needed to make sure most of the coursework could be completed online, in case I ended up moving out of the area.

  In case someone split town and asked me to go with her.

  “Yes, and that’s in my office. No fighter of mine brings trouble to this gym.”

  “Thanks for bringing that up.” My smile returned, unbidden. The weight was already dropping from my shoulders. “I’m done fighting—for you or anyone else. Effective immediately.”

  Thirty

  Saturday was officially the slowest day of my life.

  I’d never had a date night before, at least when I was an adult. That was pretty sad to admit, but it made me feel a little better about why I couldn’t concentrate at work. I fixed drinks and talked to customers without being aware of any of it, my thoughts totally centered on Tray.

  Completely pathetic.

  As soon as I finished at Vinnie’s, I walked to the gym. On the way there, I did something even more unusual than daydreaming all day. I window-shopped by choice. I stared up at the pretty dresses in store windows and imagined myself wearing them. Maybe even dancing.

  Then I imagined Tray taking them off me…

  Before I knew what I was doing, I’d wandered into Taylor’s and headed straight back to the lingerie section. So much pink and red surrounded me that my eyes bled.

  “It’s almost Valentine’s Day.” The impossibly polished blond saleswoman checked me out, taking in my ratty backpack, Tray’s ginormous battered leather jacket, and my threadbare Vinnie’s shirt. She lowered her voice in obvious defeat, her enthusiasm for the sale gone. “Get something for the man in your life. He’ll love it?”

  I assumed the question at the end of her statement had to do with the possibility I actually had a man.

  “That’s why I’m here. Not for Valentine’s Day. For tonight.” Vamping up my role to the hilt, I twirled my hair and surveyed the selection in front of me. It all bordered on obscene, but I supposed that was the point. “Do you have a rack of size six?”

  The saleswoman pursed her lips. “Ma’am, anything on this wall is available in our full range of sizes.”

  Right. I knew that. I shopped for lingerie all the time. I definitely didn’t buy my sturdy white cotton bras in three-packs at the drugstore.

  “Oh, okay. I’ll just…look around then. Thanks.” She’d already walked off before I finished speaking.

  I blew out a breath and walked toward a rack of teddies. At least that was what I thought they were called. Some of them had garter belts and seemed to be missing fabric beneath the waist.

  God, what was I supposed to buy? What would he like?

  I whipped out my phone and texted my sister.

  Help. Need slutty underwear. Which one?

  I took a couple pictures of the stuff that surrounded me and sent them, then began gnawing off my thumbnail. Luckily, she didn’t make me wait long.

  Yellow teddy with garters. Extra padding up top. You go, girl!

  The last part made me grin, the rest didn’t. Which yellow teddy? And yeah, extra padding was a no-brainer. If they sold one with a hand-pump, I’d be all over it.

  I sorted through the rack of teddies and selected a yellow one near the front that might’ve caught her eye. It was a nice choice for my hair color. I was about to look for my size when I saw the price tag.

  Holy fucknuts, I was not paying that.

  Trying not to panic, I glanced around. Did they have a clearance section in this joint? No way was I dropping hundreds of dollars on a couple strings I’d only wear for a few minutes.

  The memory burst into my mind with the suddenness of a camera flash.

  “Go ahead, look around.” He gestured, the too sweet smell of cherry cigar smoke turning my stomach. “Anything you want, it’s yours. Price is no object.” Then hands on my breasts, squeezing. Shifting so no else could see while he fondled me, right in plain sight. “So small and pretty. I can’t wait to see them in lace. Get the yellow. It’s a good color for you.”

  “Ma’am? Are you all right?”

  I looked up at the same perky salesgirl, shocked to realize I was on my knees. Glancing down, I saw the fabric knotted in my fists. I’d pulled an item from the rack in front of me. Animal print panties or something. I didn’t care what it was, I just needed to leave. To make her stop staring at me like I was crazy.

  “Yes. I’m fine.” I wasn’t gasping. Not really. “I just tripped on the rug. I’ll take this.” I shoved the animal print whatever at her and stumbled to my feet, swallowing the rise of nausea. “Please, just ring me out now.”

  “Of course. Will this be cash or charge?”

  My mind wheeled. All I had was my share of the day’s tips, which hadn’t been that great. I might have enough to pay for whatever I’d chosen, but maybe not. I didn’t have my emergency charge card with me.

  My breath backed up in my throat as she started to ring me up. I glanced around, my gaze landing gratefully on a sign advertising the store card.

  “Can I get a card here?”

  All of a sudden, it felt vitally important to me to walk out of there with lingerie I’d purchased on my own. Even if I didn’t like it. Even if it didn’t fit.

  That bastard wasn’t taking anything else from me.

  “Sure. Fill out this form.” She pushed a clipboard at me.

  Ten minutes later, I walked out with a tiny little red and white bag in one hand and my new temporary charge card tucked in my wallet. I now had a bill that would be sent to an address I might not live at in a month.

  And I was late for the gym.

  Kizzy was waiting for me outside the locker room. She didn’t look pleased. Her cheeks had reddened to the tomato color of her T-shirt, which said if I wanted shit, I would’ve squeezed your head.

  I was pretty sure Kizzy didn’t own any lemon-yellow teddies—or animal print anything, for that matter. She was more likely to push down her pants and fuck against the nearest door. As she’d told me way too many times.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  She glanced down at my Taylor’s bag and back up to my already warming cheeks. Now we were both flushed.

  “Are you frigging serious? You’re late for training because you’re off buying little lacy things for Foxy?” She snatched the bag and rooted through it before I could say a word, tugging out the contents with a look of disgust that might’ve been amusing had I not just paid thirty-five dollars for what she held. “Oh my God. He’s a total freak.”

  She stretched out my brand new bikini panties between her thumbs. Not only were they animal print, they had the word juicy emblazoned on the ass in hot pink. The front was just a panel of see-through black lace.

  “Oh my God.” I threw down my backpack and clutched my stomach. “I can’t even.”

  “Since when do you wear size eight?”

  “I’ve gained some weight,” I muttered, earning a snort.

  “Yeah, right. I’m not even an eight, and my ass is twice the size of yours.” She shook her head. “Dude, you’re in deep shit. He’s making you wear stuff lik
e this already?”

  “No, of course not. He’s not making me wear it. I just wanted to get something…” Horrifically lame that I could never wear in front of him, ever. “Nice.”

  She laughed so hard that she started hiccupping. “Oh my God. Take Carly with you next time. This is so bad. So bad.”

  I blew out a breath and grabbed my workout clothes out of my bag. “You can stop laughing anytime now.”

  “No, I needed this. Really.” She wheezed out another laugh and pounded on her chest. “I was about to lose it when you walked in.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry I’m late. I didn’t mean to stop.”

  She shoved the panties back in the bag and pushed it at me as if it was a dead animal. “That’s not why I was flipping out.”

  I folded Tray’s jacket into my backpack as carefully as possible. I didn’t like not being able to hang it up in my locker while I was here, but it just wasn’t safe. “You always get pissed when I’m late.”

  “Well, yeah, but this time I was pissed because you weren’t here, and I was about to go apeshit.” She grabbed her purple Ked-clad foot and dragged it underneath her on the bench. “There’s a new sheriff in town, and he’s a fucking dick.”

  I pulled off my T-shirt and bra and swapped them for my sports bra. Amazing how little modesty I had in the gym when I had so much around Tray. Probably because all the chicks around me had the same equipment, and I wasn’t in a hot body contest.

  With him, I was constantly worried about measuring up to the women in his past. The many, many women.

  “We don’t have a sheriff in Brooklyn.”

  “Jesus, Mia. Sarcasm is your friend. I meant here, at Mark’s. Haven’t you heard the buyout rumors?”

  “Obviously not.” I pulled on my tank top and exchanged my work capris for shorts. “What’s going on?”

  She ranted for ten minutes about the new owner of the gym, who apparently intended to take a more hands-on approach than the previous one. He’d swept through earlier and demanded to see all the trainers one-by-one, then rattled off a new list of policies. This was all secondhand info, since she hadn’t had her meeting yet. It was scheduled in five minutes.

  “He’s tightening the screws, man. I’m not putting up with this. If he yanks my chain too much, I’m out of here.”

  I stopped braiding my hair and frowned. “What about me?”

  “What about you? You’re three-quarters in the bag anyway. You’ll be gone in a month.”

  I didn’t say anything. Technically, that was still the plan, but it had lost a lot of its luster. One guess why.

  “Won’t you?” she pressed. “I thought you said your landlord was squawking about raising your rent.”

  I resumed braiding my hair. “Yeah. He is. My building’s not rent-controlled, and he says the neighborhood’s gone up in value recently.” I expected the final notice about the raised rate anytime now, which would put it above my means unless Carly got a great job.

  “So? You’re still going, right?” She heaved out a breath. “God, Mia, not you too.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I see it all the time. Girls with big ideas and firm plans of their own, throwing them all away just because some penis struts in and changes the landscape.” She dragged her other leg up to her chest and wrapped her arm around it. “That’ll never be me. Never.”

  “It’s not like that. Besides, my firm plans were only about running away. That’s not healthy.” I bit my lip and forced the rubber band over the end of my braid.

  “Who says what’s healthy? Who says what’s running away? You had a goal, and you were determined. Now you scored your big fight, and you don’t even care anymore. You’re too busy buying crazy ass undies and getting all melty-eyed and—”

  Someone rapped on the door. Once. Twice.

  Kizzy stared at me, then bolted to her feet. “Who the hell is it?”

  “Sutton Pierce.” Came the sharp reply. “You’re late, Cavanaugh.”

  All at once, her face changed. The flush returned, blanketing her fair skin from throat to hairline. She was almost as pale as I was, although she never blushed from embarrassment, just anger.

  Shooting me a look that said told you so, she marched to the door and yanked it open. I rushed up behind her just in time to get a glimpse of a tall guy in a white dress shirt and shiny dark shoes.

  “I’m taking a shit if that’s all right with you, Pierce. The laxatives just kicked in.”

  I backed into the shadows, tilting my head to get a look at him above the neck. He had dark hair and scruff and wow, what a face. Chiseled. Sexy.

  Pissed.

  “Then I’d advise you to finish up fast and get out here, because you’ll be out of a job otherwise.” He had a hint of a British accent. Faint, but definitely there. “I don’t tolerate lateness from my employees. Or rudeness.”

  “I’m not your employee. Pax hired me, not you.”

  “Pax isn’t here any longer. I suggest you catch up with the times, Cavanaugh. You have two minutes.” He walked away, his shoes clicking sharply on the hardwood floor.

  Kizzy shot me a furious look and followed him out, banging the door in her wake. I couldn’t help smiling as I finished up and went out to start my workout.

  Seeing Kizzy so out of sorts amused the hell out of me. Normally, she bossed everyone else around, not vice versa.

  I worked through a complete circuit on the treadmill, the elliptical, and the rowing machine, then spent some time with the punching bag, working on my kicks in particular. I remembered Tray’s admonition to kick from my hips and practiced until my thigh muscles quivered. I was definitely kicking higher up the bag and with more force. Too bad he wasn’t there to see it.

  “Moron.” I could only pant the self-directed insult. “You’ll see him in an hour.”

  “Maybe less.”

  I went still, a smile forming even before I looked around to check out if I’d imagined that deep, sinful voice. I’d been tempted to keep an eye on the door, telling myself I was just waiting for Kizzy, but I’d talked myself out of it. Hot as hell fighters never struck twice.

  Then a pair of strong arms slid around my waist. If I was dreaming, I never wanted to wake up.

  “It’s not nice to sneak up on someone.” I couldn’t keep the pleasure out of my voice.

  “You were talking about me. I figured it would be rude to keep watching you. Kicks look better, by the way. Good job.” Tray kissed the side of my neck. “But make sure you twist your upper body with the movement. You’ll gain more flexibility.”

  “I’m plenty flexible already.”

  “No arguments there.” He nipped my jaw. “Miss me? Because I missed you. I watched the clock all day. I even considered going by Vinnie’s to see you in your titty top.”

  I elbowed him in the gut. “That’s not a titty top. Jerk.” I remembered my animal print panties and the usual heat climbed up my cheeks. “Though I tried to get something for tonight. It didn’t work out. Don’t ask about it. Forget I said anything.”

  He laughed. “What?”

  “I bought a pair of string bikini panties. But I can’t wear them.”

  “You bought string bikini panties? You?”

  Frowning, I turned to face him and propped my hands on my hips. “I can do sexy things.” Then I sighed. “No, I really can’t. It was a total fail. It’s not even my size.”

  Somehow I could smile and joke about it, when not only had I wasted money, I’d bought the wrong thing because of Darren. Everything went back to him eventually. But the past faded when Tray was smiling down at me, looking perfectly delicious in his eye patch and a bright blue sweater that made his other eye seem even bluer.

  “You’ll have to model them for me.”

  “They’re too big.”

  He tugged me close again and nuzzled my neck. “So we’ll tie the strings tighter or something. It’ll be more of a challenge for me to get them off with my teeth.”

 
I tilted my head to give him more room, then braced. Two chicks had stopped working out to watch us. And giggle. “Tray.”

  “Mmm?”

  “We have an audience.”

  “Really? That’s hot.” He licked my earlobe.

  I relaxed. Being around him was having the strangest effect on me. I was becoming more normal, simply because he was. He wouldn’t let me freak out about everything so acting like a regular person was turning into my default setting.

  The workout room door banged open. “Goddammit, are you fucking serious?” Kizzy shouted. “Over my damn dead body.”

  I sprang back from Tray and held up my hands. “We’re not doing anything. I swear.”

  Yeah, so I might still be a work-in-progress on the regular person front.

  “Can you imagine the nerve? Bastard comes in here off the street and starts deciding how he’ll run the gym I’ve worked at for five years. Does he ask for input? No. Just starts coming up with fancy decrees and thou shalt nots.” Kizzy fumed and paced. “And then if that’s not enough, he tells me he’s breaking all ties with MMA, effective immediately. That he knows chicks here are training for illegal fights, and he’ll report anyone he finds out is using the premises for ‘cockfighting.’ I’d like to get my hands on his cock. The stupid prick.”

  Tray arched a brow at me and motioned to the door. Whether he was indicating he should leave or we both should, I wasn’t sure.

  I shrugged. Kizzy had to wind down sometime.

  “I’m not tolerating it. There’s no way I’m asking my girls to go to another gym.”

  I was actually the only MMA fighter Kizzy trained, but maybe she was speaking in generalities.

  “This has been a place where women have trained to fight for years. He wants to take down the punching bags and the kettle bells, for fuck’s sake. Says the sport isn’t safe.” She pushed her hands through her already wild blond curls. I’d never seen her hair quite that huge before, so I imagined she’d been giving her curls a workout during her meeting with Pierce.

  Tray adjusted his eye patch and sprawled on a pile of workout mats. “Who’re you talking about?”