The Beat and The Pulse Box Set 2

by Amity Cross

  You’ve got this, she mouthed, but all I could see was Gabe O’Connell and the filthy shit he’d said about her. Disrespectful shit. Josie was classy as fuck, had balls of steel, and could duke it out with the best men in this business. Not literally, but she didn’t take crap from anybody, especially me. Nobody spoke about her like she was a thing to be taken advantage of. Nobody.

  All I felt was anger, and anger to a fighter was the worst thing he could fixate on in the octagon. It was the farthest thing from maintaining focus there was, and I was letting it rule me, but I didn’t care. Gabe O’Connell needed to have his mouth shut, and I was just the man to do it for him.

  Pushing away from the mesh, I turned back to face my opponent.

  Round three began, and Gabe and I danced again, this time, testing the waters a little more forcibly. I threw a few punch combinations, trying to break through his guard, and he shot some back at me.

  “Here pussy, pussy, pussy,” he cooed at me.

  “Clean fight, gentlemen,” Harrington bellowed, reminding O’Connell to keep it in check, but he didn’t stop the fight and let us maintain.

  “You had her yet?” Gabe asked, ignoring the warning from the referee.

  I felt my already shredded focus disintegrate, and I attacked, throwing myself onto Gabe for the mother of all takedowns, but he saw it coming a mile off. He’d been counting on it. Uncontrollable forward momentum, his fist…it was a perfect combination.

  Gabe threw a punch with his right fist, and it smacked into my temple with a precision that surprised me. Coach warned me O’Connell fought dirty. I knew he’d try something underhanded, and I let the cocksucker throw me off.

  My head snapped backward, the lights above the octagon burning into my retinas as I fell. Like the world was in slow motion, I slammed into the mat, my jaw jarring from the impact, and I was powerless.

  With the last of my strength, I rolled over onto my stomach, attempting to get back up and stay in the fight, but my palms slipped, and I was down again.

  The world fell from view, the mat and the drops of blood from my own face the only things I could see…and they were becoming blurrier by the minute.

  Harrington was on his knees beside me, his face practically shoved up in mine waiting to call it. I tried to hold on so I could teach O’Connell some fucking manners, but my body had other ideas.

  The referee’s hand slapped onto the mat beside me, and he shouted. I didn’t hear what he said as I slipped into unconsciousness, but I didn’t have to.

  Third round KO.

  I’d lost.

  Pushing away the hands of an overzealous paramedic, I reached for the bag of ice beside me and pushed it against my aching temple. If only I could ice my pride, then maybe I’d feel a little better. What was above a pile of shit? The pitter-patter of Gabe O’Connell’s piss?

  “Leave me alone,” I snapped at the paramedic. “I’m fine.”

  “You might have a concussion,” he argued. “I need to check—”

  “I said fuck off!”

  Coach appeared beside us and gestured for the paramedic to leave me be. “I’ll see to it he gets checked out,” he told the guy. “He’s angry, so you won’t get a proper look-in for a while yet. Don’t take it to heart.”

  The guy snorted, picking up his bag. “I’ve dealt with worse dented egos.” He glanced at me, and I narrowed my eyes in return. “Make sure someone is with him for the next twenty-four hours. Symptoms can appear hours after the fact. That blow was hard.”

  With Coach and the paramedic gone, it was just me in the locker room. Glad for the privacy, I stood and began pacing, feeling dizzy but too amped up to sit still.

  My mind went over and over the fight as I tried to pinpoint the moment I’d slipped. I replayed it so many times, trying to convince myself it was something other than what it was, but I was coming up empty. I’d let O’Connell split my focus and go for someone I cared about. I’d let his nasty mouth get to me.

  The door creaked. I glanced up and found Josie slipping through the crack into the lion’s den. After the things O’Connell said about her, I wasn’t sure seeing her right now was a good idea. I was in a mood. A real nasty one.

  “How are you?” she asked, closing the door behind her.

  “Fucking shit. How do you think I am?”

  “It’s just one fight,” she said, leaning back against the wall. “You’ll bounce back.”

  “It’s not just one fight! I lost to the guy who tried to take you from me!” I didn’t realize what I said until I turned away. I didn’t even realize I wanted to say it until it was out there like projectile word vomit. It had to be the punch to the head.

  “Dean…”

  I cursed aloud, smashing my fist against the locker. Damn, my head was pounding.

  “Josie,” I heard Lincoln say behind me. “You won’t get much sense out of him tonight. He’s on a bender.”

  Damn right I was. I’d royally fucked up, and on bloody camera and center stage, too. I’d fucked up over her.

  “Dean.”

  I turned and found I was alone with my identical twin. I thought it was time for another smackdown, but he picked up the ice and handed it to me instead.

  “What? No pep talk?” I asked with a sneer.

  “Nope. Just ice your head, dipshit. We need to preserve what little is left up there.”

  I sank down onto the bench and jammed the ice against my temple.

  “We know one thing,” Lincoln said, sitting next to me.

  “What’s that?” Here we go…

  “O’Connell wants the belt. I’ve got it.”

  “He’ll challenge you next,” I said.

  “And this time, I’ll get the little fucker.”

  I snorted. “I want a rematch. We aren’t kids anymore, Linc. You can’t fight for me.”

  “Who said I was fighting for you? I still have to defend my honor, you know,” he shot back.

  “So you beat him,” I went on. “Then where do I go? Either into the cage against you or up or down a weight class to avoid it.”

  “That’s an argument for another day,” he said, bumping his shoulder against mine. “Right now, let’s get your sorry ass home.”

  I frowned. “No press conference?”

  “Not tonight. You got a pass because of the KO. Coach saw to it.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I drawled, and I pushed to my feet. Linc handed me my shirt, and I dragged it over my head. “It won’t go down well if I’m not there.”

  “It’s up to you, bro. You don’t have to face the little fucker if you don’t want to.”

  “And have the entire world think I’m a piss-weak little turd? I’m going.” Grabbing a damp towel, I wiped the blood off my face. “How do I look?”

  “Like a badass motherfucker,” Linc replied with a grin.

  Checking my reflection one last time, I pushed out of the locker room and into the hall. O’Connell might’ve beaten me this time, but he’d eat his words before besting me again.

  7

  Josie

  I wasn’t surprised when Dean showed up to the post-fight press conference the other night.

  But what did open my eyes was the tactful way he’d described the fight. Whatever Gabe had been saying to get Dean to throw his focus in the octagon had since rolled right off his back and into the distance. Either that or the twin had developed a brutal poker face.

  He hadn’t once looked at Gabe or rose to any of his quips at the desk. He just answered the questions fired at him by the assembled reporters with the utmost respect for the Championship and his opponent. If you asked me, Gabe didn’t deserve it, but from a PR standpoint, Dean was a perfect angel. A dream come true.

  It was a show of power if I ever saw one. A fighter standing his ground in the face of defeat. Epic sportsmanship.

  And I couldn’t help but feel he did it in lieu of apologizing. I wasn’t sure what I wanted more. For him to admit he was wrong about going to see Monica to my face
or for him to act responsible and make my job a little easier for once. I guess beggars couldn’t be choosers. Not when my screwed-up heart was involved.

  I still couldn’t get the image of Dean falling to the mat out of my mind. I’d seen Hamish take hits like that before, but that was at The Underground where there were no rules, and he’d toughened himself up enough to be able to get up and keep going. I’d never seen Dean dropped by another fighter because he hadn’t been KO’d before. In the AUFC, they stopped the fight if it got to that point, but Gabe’s punch had been brutal and on point.

  It made me think about Hamish, and I wondered how he was getting on at The Underground after our break up. Realizing I hadn’t thought about him for at least two weeks, I began to feel guilty.

  When things were good between us, they were brilliant, but when they were bad… Hamish was a really good guy, but there was nothing I could do about it now. What was done was done.

  Scrolling through the top AUFC fan site—MMA Addiction—on my phone, I skimmed a blog post about Dean’s hit. They weren’t happy about it, calling it a cheap shot on O’Connell’s behalf. Total knockouts had been a rare occurrence in the all-Australian league, and they’d mostly happened by chance, but many were speculating it had been done deliberately. Gabe O’Connell had the reputation.

  Besides, he’d given me the impression he was coming back for more when he’d tried to seduce me over to the dark side at the weigh-in. I knew the next fight he’d be looking for was against Lincoln for the middleweight title, and it’d put him in my orbit yet again.

  “Josie?”

  I blinked and turned to face Violet. She was standing beside me, holding up a black gown and waggling it in my face.

  “Are you in there?” she asked. “Or have you left the building?”

  “I’m here,” I replied, itching to look down at my phone again.

  We were standing in the middle of one of the fanciest boutiques in Sydney, shopping for gowns to wear to the annual AUFC Charity Gala that was happening two weeks from now. It was a huge party the league put on every year to raise money for their partner charity, Tightrope—a foundation that prided itself on raising awareness of depression and mental illness in professional sports, but they also extended their reach to teens and younger kids. It was a big reason why the Twins were always donating their time to go out to local training days at gyms and dojos. The AUFC wasn’t kid-appropriate, but the Twins knew more than most why it was important to focus energy on fighting in a sporting arena rather than out on the streets. It was a big deal for some of the teens they went out to meet.

  Reaching out, I ran my fingers over the fabric of the gown Violet was holding up. The store was bright and full of beautiful dresses I’d usually be pawing like a horny teenager, but my focus was split much like Dean’s had been. I lost to the guy who tried to take you from me. My heart wasn’t in it today.

  “Put that away,” Vee said, snatching my phone from my hand. “Work can wait a few hours. You’ve been going nonstop since we met up. Life is up here.” She waved her hand around, gesturing to the store with my phone dangling like a carrot in front my nose. “It took me a long time to realize that, and now I’m in it, I’m not letting anyone else miss the good stuff. Especially not you.”

  “But,” I complained, reaching for my phone.

  She pulled her hand back. “No buts. I know it’s been a storm after the fight, but you can have a few hours away from it and nothing will have changed. Dean’s okay. He’s got Lincoln and Coach. People will say whatever they want. They always do, regardless of whether you’re there to see it or not. Right now, all you have to worry about is finding the perfect dress for the Gala. Which is an important cause to all of us, right?”

  She was right, but it was the fear of missing out that drove my work addiction.

  “When did you become so… Tyrannical?”

  “The moment my brother pushed me out the door and forced me to attend a party,” she said mysteriously. “Doesn’t matter. What does is the fact I have your phone, so now I have all the control.”

  “Fine,” I conceded, reaching out for the dress she thrust in my face.

  “That would look good on you,” she said. “You’ve go the boobs to carry it off.”

  Holding the hanger up, I took in the cut of the bodice and wondered if she was right. The neckline was plunging…right down to the navel, and the skirt was full with layers of silk that melted into a subtle train with thousands of tiny, clear diamanté embellishments. With my blonde hair and ivory skin, it’d make me look like an ice queen. I wasn’t sure I liked the metaphor, but I liked the dress.

  “I’ll try it on, and we’ll see how much of my boobs fall out,” I said. “Have you found something?”

  “Yep.” Vee held up a purple gown and smiled.

  “Was there any doubt on the color?” I asked with a genuine smile.

  “Never!”

  A sales assistant helped set us up in a private change room, and we donned our chosen dresses. The Gala was a full black-tie affair that was being attended by a lot of big names with deep wallets. They expected class, decadent food, top-of-the-range wine, string quartets, and red carpets. That meant the dress I chose had to be something special.

  As I zipped up the side closure, I found myself wondering if Dean would like it. He sure did look handsome all cleaned up and in a tux. After seeing him in next to nothing every day while he trained and fought, it was a total spin seeing him all done up in a penguin suit. I imagined trying to get him to dance again and smiled. This time, I’d make sure we wouldn’t be interrupted.

  Pulling the curtain aside, I stepped out into the room and positioned myself in front of the mirror. I stared at my reflection and took in the lines of the gown I’d picked out. It fit my curves perfectly, the low neckline flowing down between my breasts accentuating my assets rather than flopping them out. It was a classy kind of revealing.

  “You know,” Violet began, emerging from behind her curtain in her own dress. “We haven’t had any time together since the wedding.”

  I could already see where this was going, and I didn’t like it.

  “You’ve been so buried in work lately I just wanted to make sure you’re dealing okay.”

  “I am dealing,” I replied, smoothing down the fabric of the dress I wore. Flipping out the train, I admired the sparkle of the embellishments in the light.

  “You broke up with Hamish in front of everyone,” she retorted. “You were so invested in trying to make it work with him and then boom.”

  “It was never going to work,” I replied, turning my gaze back to my reflection. “We both knew it. It was past due.”

  “Is there someone else?”

  I glanced at her and frowned. How did she know? I began to run over scenarios in my mind, trying to place the moment I’d let my composure slip.

  “Josie, you can tell me,” she said when I didn’t answer. “You’re one of my best friends. I’ve never had best friends before you and Ren. Whatever you say to me is between us. No judgment.”

  How could I confess my crush on Dean to Violet when I couldn’t confess to Ren…or myself? I wasn’t a ‘from afar’ kind of woman. I took the bull by the horns and went for it, no matter the outcome, which was probably why this whole thing had me shaken off my axis.

  What was stopping me now? I never stopped…

  “I know I shouldn’t have let it play out like that,” I began. “I shouldn’t have dragged Hamish over the coals in front of everyone, but it had to end. We were both weighing one another down.”

  “I know that,” Violet said. “But is there someone else?”

  I began to panic a little, not wanting to get into it. The crush I had on Dean was my own private little thing. A fantasy that played out just for me. Saying it aloud made it real.

  “Why are you asking that?”

  “I heard what you said,” she murmured. “I don’t think anybody else caught it, but I sure did. Lincoln and I were da
ncing behind you.”

  I hesitated, knowing exactly what she was getting at. The moment where I told Hamish there was someone else and the bit after where he accused it of being Dean. Clueless fucking Dean, who was still hung up over Monica Miller.

  “Vee, please,” I said, not wanting to get into it. I wasn’t even sure how I felt. Was it just a crush or something more? And if I acknowledged it, I’d be forced to do something because it’d be out there. I wasn’t ready. Was I?

  “Do you have feelings for—”

  “I said don’t,” I interrupted her. “I’m under a lot of pressure right now. I’m just doing my best to get through it. I can’t entertain the idea of starting something new with someone so soon after Hamish. Not right now.”

  I said the words, but I didn’t really feel them. Not really.

  “If you say so,” Violet said, moving back into the change room. Sweeping the curtain across, she added, “You know you can always talk to me, and it’ll stay in the vault.”

  “I know…”

  Taking in my reflection once more, I couldn’t help it when the bad boy twin, who was the bane of my existence, came to mind. His awkwardness at the wedding when I’d forced him to dance with me was comical, but all I could think about was the feel of his hands on my waist. We’d known each other for a few years now, and in all that time, he’d never once touched me like that. I didn’t think he’d ever really touched me at all.

  “Did Lincoln hear?” I asked, gaining the courage to say at least a little something now that no eyes were on me.

  “No,” came Violet’s reply. “Just me.”

  I sighed, feeling like an elephant had just sat on my chest. What the hell was I doing? Harboring secret crushes and fawning over a guy who was in his own world. Since we’d come back from the wedding, I wasn’t sure if Dean was afraid of losing me as a friend, potential lover, or as his Public Relations Manager. The moment he saw Gabe O’Connell trying it on—and again after the fight—I could’ve sworn there was a little flash of jealousy.

  Was it all just professional, or was it something more? There were so many variables in play, and my head told me to steer clear, but my heart was another story entirely. Not to mention the things my body craved.