by Amity Cross
She began to pale and turned away. It sent the wrong message entirely, and I felt like throwing up myself.
“Does the thought of the world knowing we’re seeing each other make you that sick?” I whispered in her ear.
“No,” she hissed. “It’s just…”
We both straightened up as Violet appeared through the crowd and took her seat beside Josie. I threw Jo a warning glance, and she shrugged, shifting her attention back to the octagon where Lincoln was bouncing around in his corner.
The title fight was going to be three rounds of five minutes each. I wasn’t expecting it to get that far, but anything was possible. Despite his arrogance, O’Connell had been fighting well, but Lincoln was top of our weight class for a reason.
Lincoln and Gabe met each other in the center of the octagon as the referee set out the rules. He then called for the men to touch gloves, and Lincoln held his fists up. Even from here, I could see O’Connell sneer, and when he turned his back without touching, the crowd began to jeer and boo. Lincoln was a fan favorite, and Gabe was the guy to hate, but the fans lapped that shit up. I could just hear the commentators having a grand old time discussing the challenger’s disrespect on the telecast.
Round one was underway in a matter of minutes, and the two fighters dived right in.
They danced around one another, Lincoln’s footwork looking on point. O’Connell kicked, and Linc dodged with ease. It was already looking different to my fight with the guy. Their pace was faster on the mat, and the air was zinging with electricity.
C’mon, Linc, I thought, edging forward in my seat.
O’Connell kept going for Lincoln’s head with a right high kick, but his reach wasn’t quite there, and Linc kept maneuvering out of the way. Their footwork was mirrored, proving the hours Gabe had spent studying his opponent’s moves looking for holes to exploit. It was the same on our side and the name of the game.
Linc came back with a punch combination, going for O’Connell’s face, but he slipped out of reach, and the crowd began catcalling, eager for a little blood.
Gabe came back in a flurry of fists—which Lincoln weaved through with ease—finishing with a right high kick. Linc saw it coming before I did. Grabbing Gabe’s ankle, he pulled the smaller fighter off his feet and took him down to the mat.
Yes! I smacked my hands together and went to rise to my feet, but Josie placed a hand on my knee. Giving her a wink, I turned back to the fight.
Gabe and Linc grappled, but my twin dominated the hold. When the buzzer sounded, the referee pulled them apart, calling round one to Lincoln.
Don’t get cocky, bro, I thought to myself. This is where he got me. Stay on your toes.
The next round was underway in a matter of minutes, and the two fighters were back to testing each other’s limits and looking for a hole to exploit.
Then O’Connell took a risk, rushing Lincoln and using aggression to split his focus. Gabe’s fist slammed into Linc’s cheekbone, snapping his head to the side, and he fell, his palms colliding with the mat. Any good fighter would’ve backed off at that moment to give their opponent breathing room but not O’Connell. He slid into a hold, crushing Lincoln against his chest, and slammed his fist into Linc again. This time, blood began to pour down my brother’s face, and my own blood began to boil. It was a part of our chosen sport, but I didn’t like it when my twin took hits like that.
Violet stood up beside Josie, and if I were a gentleman, I would’ve consoled her, but I only had eyes for what was happening in the octagon.
“Fight!” she screeched as Josie held her arm. “Don’t let him dominate!”
Lincoln pushed Gabe up and was able to rise to his feet, loosening his opponent’s grip, but the buzzer sounded.
Round two went to Gabe O’Connell, which meant the third would be the decider. All bets were off now.
Lincoln knelt in his corner, repositioning his mouth guard as Coach dabbed a wet towel over his split cheek. Nodding as the older man muttered encouragement and tactics in his ear, he slapped his gloved fists together and rose to his feet.
Round three kicked off, and neither fighter held back.
They fought furiously, giving the crowd one hell of a show. O’Connell took Linc down, but Linc was able to break out of his hold before he was pinned. Then they sparred again until Gabe cornered him and was able to take the dance back to the mat.
They were a mess of arms and legs as they grappled, fighting desperately for dominance. The clock was ticking closer to time, and whoever was on top would take the title. A second could decide this thing it was that close.
My heart began to beat faster, my adrenaline spiking as I watched my identical twin defend his title. They wrestled, taking every opportunity to strike the other, but when the buzzer sounded, it wasn’t Lincoln who was on top.
The win and the middleweight title went to Gabe O’Connell. It was so fucking close it was like a stray kick in the balls.
Shooting out of my seat, I totally blanked out everything as I pushed through the crowd, stormed past the TV cameras, and helped Coach pull Lincoln from the octagon.
“Motherfucker,” my twin muttered under his breath. “I almost had him.” His face was covered in blood, the cut on his cheek bleeding all over the place.
“Don’t say anything,” I said in his ear as we led him from the arena and out back. “It’s one loss. We take it in stride.”
“Is that what you call it?” Lincoln asked as we stepped into his private locker room. “Punching O’Connell in the face at the Gala was taking it in stride?”
I narrowed my eyes, choosing not to bite. He thought I punched the guy because I was a sore loser, but it couldn’t be any further from the truth. I had taken the loss in stride, choosing to push my dented pride aside in favor of working things out with Josie…but he didn’t know that.
Picking up a towel, I doused it in the sink and shoved my brother down on the bench as Coach watched us with a raised eyebrow.
Wiping the blood from Lincoln’s face, I said, “This isn’t anything to do with me punching that asshole. This is about what just happened out there. The fucker fights dirty. Dancing around the edge of the rules on his high horse. The refs can’t do a thing about it. We can’t do a thing about it. All we’ve got is next time. Now that we know his game, we can outplay him.”
“Fight fire with fire?” He tried to pull away from the towel as I patted the cut on his cheekbone.
I glanced at Coach, and he shook his head. I’d been thinking about it, my anger simmering hot enough to explode, but I knew we had to get the guy by the rules.
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully.
“We won’t worry about it tonight,” Coach said, finally interjecting. “Let’s get you cleaned up and out there at that press conference, and tomorrow we can assess the playback. One day at a time, boys. The drill hasn’t changed.”
Lincoln shoved my hand away, his shoulders still tight with tension. I knew it would hurt his pride watching the playback of the fight, but we had to see the moment where O’Connell got him. He’d learned his opponent’s fighting technique, studied his tells, the same as Linc had, but there was something Gabe spotted that we hadn’t. We needed to up our game.
Concerned at his reaction, I watched my brother rise to his feet and push into the bathroom where a moment later, the water turned on. He’d never lost a fight before, not like me, and to lose his title because of a grapple that lasted a second? It was frustrating as hell, but it wasn’t that bad considering I’d been KO’d. What made it worse was who beat him, not how.
“You know he’ll be right,” Coach said to me.
“Yeah…”
“Are things okay with you and Josie now?” he asked, taking me by surprise. “I get there’s a history of animosity there, but after the incident at the Gala…”
“What are you saying, Coach?”
“Is something going on between you two?”
“Yeah, I’m a pain in her ass,”
I replied, rolling my eyes.
“I saw it with Ren,” he said, picking up the dirty towels Lincoln had dropped on the floor. “What I’m seeing with Josie. Ren tried to hide her relationship with Ash in the beginning because she wasn’t ready to trust, and I didn’t see it at the time, but afterward…” He sighed and glanced at me.
“If you’re looking for an admission, you’re not going to get one,” I bit out. “I’m here to fight and to support my brother. It’s been that way from day one and will always be that way.”
Coach looked me over in that no bullshit way he had and nodded. There was a reason he coached us, and it wasn’t because he was a sparkly unicorn who farted rainbows. He was a mean motherfucker, and I knew I wasn’t fooling him.
“I know you were keen on my daughter,” he went on, ignoring my insolent tone. “My other daughter. A father sees more than he cares to sometimes, especially when it happens in his own gym. I’ve seen how you treat other women since you’ve been in Sydney.”
“I don’t even know what you’re trying to say to me,” I said, narrowing my eyes. Yeah, I’d slept around, but I was young. A guy was meant to have a little no strings fun when he was unattached.
“Josie may have a tough exterior, but don’t think it runs all the way through,” he said. “She’s not a conquest. She values her job.”
I snorted. I knew all about Josie’s interior. I’d been in there and found out just how soft she was…literally. I fucking knew. If he stopped to ask, I’d say Coach Miller was taking the father figure role a little too far.
“Josie is a big girl,” I replied, anger beginning to rise. “She can make her own decisions.”
Coach raised an eyebrow. “Can she?”
I watched as he strode from the room to get rid of the towels, my heart beginning sink. What if he was right? What if we were both going into this relationship for all the wrong reasons? I never forced her to do anything, but I sure as hell didn’t make it easy for her to say no.
Or maybe, just maybe, Coach was jumping to conclusions and putting the fear in me for nothing. He was jut being an overprotective father figure. He had witnessed her breakup with Hamish at the wedding.
With a dirty scowl on my face, I was still staring at the door Coach had disappeared through when the bathroom door opened behind me. I didn’t want to believe him. I didn’t even want to contemplate that I could be Josie’s rebound fuck.
“Are you still here?” Lincoln grumbled beside me.
Had I pressured Jo into being with me before she was ready? Was she with me for the wrong reasons? No, it wasn’t true. Now that I was beginning to understand my attraction, I could feel it every time we were together.
“What’s up your ass?” Linc asked, glaring at me when I didn’t move. “Anyone would think you had lost the title tonight with that look on your face.”
I snorted and slapped his shoulder. “Shut up.”
15
Josie
I lingered at the edges of the massive conference room, watching the furor as reporters began filling the space.
TV cameras lined the front while rows of uncomfortable chairs were positioned behind for the press. Leaning against the far wall, I waited for Dean to appear. Lincoln would be out soon to face the circus, and I wanted to hold his brother back more than jump his bones.
“Well, well, well,” a gravelly voice purred behind me.
A shiver went down my spine, and I turned to find Gabe O’Connell lurking like the stalker he was.
“Great,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s you.”
“Don’t pout like that, sweetheart,” he said with a chuckle. “It makes me imagine all kinds of dirty things.”
“I’m seeing someone,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest.
He raised an eyebrow and looked me over. “Really? That was fast…or are you just saying that to throw me off the scent. I bet you like to make a man work for all of this.” He gestured up and down my body. “I wouldn’t mind working, especially after the sample I had the other weekend.”
“Shut up,” I hissed. “That’ll never happen again. I’m a professional.”
He snorted, his lips quirking into a full-blown grin. “I bet you are.”
“You’re a sexist pig, you know that? I bet all your lines work on desperate gold diggers, but they’ll never work on me.”
He leaned closer, the spicy scent of the soap he’d used invading my senses. “Why not? You were keen the other night.”
My gaze focused on Dean as he sauntered into the room, and I felt my insides squirm. He stopped to talk briefly to a few reporters who caught his attention, but he looked distracted, his attention darting around the room. Knowing he was looking for me, I tried not to smile to myself in case Gabe thought I was leading him on.
Dean and I had known each other for a few years now, and I’d seen him fly at the top and sink to the bottom. I’d seen him in his undies more times than I could count and had fought tooth and nail with him over his bad boy antics. But seeing him in this room filled with people who could blow our cover felt more real and thrilling than any encounter we’d ever had.
Fixing my attention back onto Gabe, I snarled, “You wouldn’t know what a real relationship was if it hit you in the face.”
Edging away from him, I cursed the fact we were in a room filled with cameras. If we’d been someplace private, I would’ve given him a slap to go with Dean’s punch.
Gabe looked thoughtful for a moment before he winked. “I’m beginning to think it punched me in the face at the Gala.”
“You deserve every punch in the face you get,” I spat. “You fight dirty, Gabe, and you know it.”
I must’ve hit a nerve because he straightened up and snorted, his shoulders beginning to tense. I doubted he had the skill to win a fight cleanly, which is why he always danced a fine line between a win or a disqualification.
“Hell, what do I know?” he asked, backing away. “I just won the middleweight title.”
Of all the cocky, arrogant sons of bitches…
Searching for Dean, I found him trying to extract himself from an overzealous reporter, his expression full of unrestrained annoyance. As if he sensed my gaze on him, he glanced up and scanned the room. The moment our eyes met, I felt my anger fade away until it was less than a minuscule pixel-sized blip on my radar.
His lips quirked, and he made his away across the room toward me, carving a path through the pomp and chaos the AUFC created.
Standing before me, he sighed, giving away how tense he was. Right then, I wished I could raise my hand, cup his cheek, and press my lips against his.
“That guy is either stupid or likes the thrill of pissing me off,” he said, edging his body closer to mine.
“I dealt with him,” I replied, brushing my fingers against the back of his hand. “He’s just feeling cocky because of his win. That’s all.”
“Well he can cock right off,” Dean snarled as Lincoln walked into the room, followed by Coach Miller.
They took their seats behind the table, leaving a wide space between Linc and Gabe. It was going to be one hell of an interesting post-fight question time.
“How is he?” I asked, nodding toward the front of the room.
“Pissed. There was a second in it, Jo, and it’s his first loss. The first one is always hard.”
Spying Violet at the front of the room, I could see he wasn’t the only one who was tense. She looked as adrift at Lincoln did.
Those two were great together. So great, I was constantly jealous, even after I’d snagged my own twin. I felt old insecurities trying to resurface that I’d promised myself I would cast aside. I shook my head as if the motion would clear the fog in my own stupid head and show me the way.
“So,” Dean began, his eyes darkening. “You never answered me earlier.”
“Answered what?” I asked, knowing full well what he meant.
“Does the thought of being with me publicly make you feel sick?”
> The thought of kissing Gabe O’Connell made me feel sick, but Dean would never find out if I had anything to do with it. If he knew I’d run off at the first sign of rejection and almost slid into bed with his arch rival, he’d drop me like a stone.
I didn’t want to stuff this thing up with Dean before it really had a chance to start. I wanted to love him, but I wasn’t sure if what I felt was the real deal. I’d need time to figure it out.
“No, it doesn’t,” I whispered to him as the crowd began to hush.
He didn’t look convinced. “Because I want to make a proper go of this, Jo.”
“This isn’t the place to talk about it,” I said as the press conference began.
“Then when is the right time?”
Glancing at the table up front, Gabe caught my gaze, rose his eyebrows, and then winked. He’d been watching us, his beady little eyes taking in our entire exchange as he sat waiting for the questioning to begin. He knew. Honestly, it wouldn’t take much if someone paid enough attention. The way Dean and I had danced and fought at the Gala, the moment where we disappeared, the part where Dean punched Gabe in the face…our miniature argument right now.
It wasn’t hard to see that something was going on.
I really did feel sick then, knowing we’d probably just given ourselves up to the man who had the ammunition to tear us apart.
As Gabe made a kissy face at me, I turned away, leaving Dean’s question hanging in the air. There was never going to be a right time to talk about our relationship, but we’d only been fooling around for a week. Seven days. It was way too soon for someone like me to be putting a label on it.
Hell, it was warp speed for a guy like Dean. A guy who’d never been in a real relationship in his life. What did he know about commitment outside his brother’s influence? Nothing. I’d seen his idea of romance time and time again, and the only romantic thing he thought of before pursuing the newest hole was being gentlemanly enough to provide the condoms.
I felt the urge to run tugging at the corners of my mind, and I glanced at Dean, who’d turned his attention to the press conference, his brow knitted into a tight scowl.