by Meghan March
I don’t know much about cars or what a stage three anything is, but I know a Nissan GT-R isn’t an inexpensive model to start with.
“What did you do with it?”
Flynn smiles. “Sold it. I told you, that’s what I do with almost all of them. It’s not like I could afford to keep them all in Manhattan, but I am thinking about renting some space over in Jersey. It’s been heartbreaking to sell some of these beauties. At least my broker gets me good deals.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose under my glasses. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
She leans over and rests her head on my shoulder. “Just love me for the awesome badass I am.”
I slide my arm around her to squeeze her against me. “You know I do.”
“I know. So, tell me about Legend. Is he really hung like a stallion?”
Thirty-Four
Legend
I find myself walking the streets of Manhattan again with Roux at my side. Sometimes, it’s the only thing that can calm me down.
The wrath I felt as I was leaving the club carried me all the way to the building where Bodhi Black trains his celebrity clients. Including Scarlett.
I know she said she wouldn’t go back, and that’s a damn good thing, because there’s no way I’d let that shit fly now. Before, it was just bad blood. But now, if there’s a chance he risked the lives of innocents just to ruin my club and push me into a fight, she will never breathe his air again.
If she wants to keep training, she can train with me or someone I handpick.
But since it’s after eleven when I arrive, the building is completely dark. I look down at Roux. “What the fuck do we do now?”
Not surprisingly, she doesn’t have an answer for me, just tugs at the leash, so we keep walking. I don’t have any particular destination in mind, but somehow we end up at the gym near the club.
Like anything else open twenty-four hours in Manhattan, it’s never empty. Through the windows, I see two guys in one of the rings and a half dozen more punching bags or jumping ropes.
I have two choices—turn around and spend all night trying to walk off the anger that’s riding me, or get it out a hell of a lot faster by hitting the bag until I can’t lift my arms.
Roux nuzzles my leg, and I pat her head. “You choose, baby. What do you want to do?”
Like she can understand, she licks my hand and tugs at the leash as she takes a few steps toward the door.
“All right. I hear you. You’re telling me I’ve been slacking and missing workouts, and I need to get my shit together.”
Her tail wags, and I swear to God, my dog is more intelligent than most people I’ve met.
Together, she and I walk into the gym and make our way to the lockers, where I keep extra gear in the locker I rent. I tape my wrists and wrap my hands before tugging on my gloves. I’m halfway to the heavy bag when a familiar voice calls my name.
“Yo, Legend. Haven’t see you in a while. Been waiting for that chance to spar.”
I turn my head to see Silas Bohannon slowing his jump rope until it stops. The last thing I want to do is make small talk right now, but I give him a nod anyway. “Been busy.”
“Yeah, I saw you got a few important people stopping at your club these days. Shit doing better?”
“Doing all right.”
From my short answers, there’s no way he can miss that I’m not here to chat, and his next sentence acknowledges it.
“You wanna spar rather than talk? Because I’m getting the sense that you’re fucking pissed off right now, man.”
“Now isn’t the time to get in the ring with me,” I tell him, by way of warning.
A slow smile spreads over his face. “You agree to pads, and I’m in. I just might learn something you’ll see show up in a movie.”
“You got a death wish?”
He laughs this time, and I can’t figure this fucking guy out. “No. But I’m a hell of a lot better than you think. Let’s do it.”
I pound my gloves together. “Fine, but it’s your funeral.”
Bohannon walks to his locker and starts pulling out pads. “Just try not to fuck up my pretty face too bad. My shooting schedule is packed.”
Even though I know it’s a terrible idea, I go back to my locker, give Roux a few scratches where she lies in the corner, and grab the rest of my gear. Once I’ve got my pads strapped on, I adjust my chin strap and glance at Bohannon.
“Last chance to back out.”
He shakes out his arms and bounces on the toes of his bare feet. “Let’s do this.”
“Fucking crazy bastard.”
I lift the ropes and slip between them, then do some stretching and shadowboxing. I know I shouldn’t spar without warming up properly, but my blood’s already pumping from Rolo and the miles I walked with Roux. Besides, our skill levels are wildly different. There’s no way Bohannon will beat me, which I’m pretty fucking sure he knows too. Guess we’ll find out for sure in the next few minutes.
We meet in the middle of the ring and touch gloves.
“Clean fight. No low blows, eye pokes, or other bullshit,” Bohannon says.
“Afraid to fight dirty?”
“Against you? Fuck yes. I’m not stupid, and my manager would fucking kill me for stepping into the ring with you.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Then why the fuck do I have pads on in this ring right now?”
Bohannon grins. “Because I’m a grown fucking man, and I do what I want. Let’s go.”
He bumps my gloves again, and we bounce away from each other.
As soon as he throws the first punch, I’m transported to a different place. A different headspace. All the bullshit with Rolo and Bodhi Black falls away. It’s only me, Bohannon, and the four rope sides of the ring. A ring I’m not leaving without a submission from him, because that’s the only way I can end this session and not feel bad about fucking up a movie star. But, first, I’ll soften him up.
Bohannon catches me in the pad at my cheek, and it lights the fire in me.
God, I’ve fucking missed this feeling.
My hands move of their own accord, popping out combinations.
Jab, jab, cross.
Bohannon’s head flies back when I connect.
Jab, jab, hook.
Bohannon bobs and weaves out of the way, and I go right to the body, landing two strikes before he can throw a kick that slaps against my thigh.
After two minutes, I have a new respect for the man across from me, but I also know there’s no fucking way he can win. He telegraphs his moves, making himself predictable. This session will last until I end it. I throw a few more combinations, then a low kick.
We go on for another minute, trading punches and kicks, and my head clears.
God, this feels fucking good.
I’ve spent so much time this last year getting the club up and running, trying to keep my promise to Jorie and become the man she wanted me to be, that I’ve forgotten parts of the man I am.
I might be able to walk in both worlds, but this is what I know. This is what I’m good at. When everything else is going to hell, I can always step into a ring or a cage and find my footing.
Scarlett said she watched those videos of me fighting. It scares her, but she likes it.
As soon as the thought of her enters my brain, Bohannon catches me with an uppercut that sends spit flying out of my mouth.
He grunts in victory, and I throw myself back into the fight.
It’s ending on my terms. I unleash a flurry before shooting for a takedown.
Bohannon isn’t ready for it, and he lands hard on the mat while I overtake his guard with little effort. I could rain down elbows to ground and pound the fuck out of him, but I remember what he said about his face, and I’m not a dick. Instead, I do something completely unorthodox. I spin around, grab his leg, and lock it up until he taps.
As soon as I release the submission hold, Bohannon’s head flops on the mat.
“Dam
n, man. I didn’t see that shit coming. You gave up mount to get me to tap on a leg bar? Seriously?”
I shrug, breathing harder than I was while we were fighting. “You have to be ready for anything in the cage.”
Bohannon sits up and I rise to my feet, offering him a hand. He takes it and stands. “I guess I should just be happy you didn’t get me in a heel hook like you did Bodhi Black. I heard it took a year for him to get back in fighting shape after you tore up his knee.”
The mention of Bodhi Black’s name again, right fucking now, is the last thing I want to hear.
“He didn’t tap. He should’ve tapped if he wanted to save his knee.”
Bohannon shakes his head. “You’re right. I’m not saying it was a dirty move, I’m just saying it was fucking ruthless.” He pauses to wipe sweat out of his eyes. “You going to fight again one of these days?”
All I can do is shrug. “Don’t know.”
“Well, even if you don’t, I heard about something that might be a hell of an opportunity for you, if you’re interested.”
“A fight?”
“No, although I’m sure you can get those, no problem. This is a whole card of fights. Supposed to be happening next month at a club uptown, but the Feds just raided the place, and fight organizers won’t hold it there anymore. They’re looking for a venue that’s high-end and exclusive. Your club would fit the bill, and I could put you in touch with the right people to throw your hat in the ring.”
I put together what he’s saying. “I’m not in that business anymore. My club is legit. No underground fights.”
“That’s the best part. It’s not underground. It’s fully sanctioned. Totally legal. You could easily charge a couple grand a head, if not more.”
A couple grand a head or more?
Fuck. If I could fill the club for a fight at that price—or a little more—I could pay off a chunk of what I owe my investors. The club would be a hell of a lot closer to being mine, free and clear.
But that’s not what Jorie would want.
As soon as the thought enters my head, I pause. I loved her, and I’ve honored her wishes, but she’s not here. She would want me to do what’s best for me and my life, as long as I wasn’t putting myself at risk.
“A couple grand a head? Really?”
Bohannon nods. “People love watching fights, and a club like yours would be a badass location. All those pillars and shit would make it look like something out of ancient Rome.”
“You’ve seen my club?”
“Not personally, but I’ve seen a ton of pictures on social media lately. Been meaning to get over there.”
I lift my head to meet his gaze. “Who’d you hear from about the fight card that needs a home? Reliable source?”
“My trainer for this movie is one of the best pro MMA coaches—”
“Fucking tell me it’s not Bodhi Black.”
Bohannon’s shoulders shake as he laughs. “No, it’s not Black. He’s not fighting on the card either . . . although, I bet if the two of you wanted to settle your score, in a sanctioned fight, people would lose their fucking minds. Damn, I’d pay serious money to see that.”
The wheels in my brain are turning. A sanctioned fight would mean no dirty shit. While we could do significant damage to each other, the odds of either of us leaving the cage in a body bag would be slim to none.
“Let me know if you want me to pull some strings and get your club on the list of possible venues. I know people.”
I can’t give Bohannon an answer right now. I need to talk it over with Q, and I’ve learned my lesson from being way too impulsive in the past. I’m a businessman now, not a kid fighting for survival on the streets. But, still, this opportunity is too good to let slip by without letting them know we could be interested for the right price.
“Why don’t you bring your people to the club later this week? Have a look around. See what they think, and we can talk it over.”
“I can make that happen,” Bohannon says with a nod. “I’ll text you when I’ve got more.”
I hold out my hand, and he bumps his glove against it. “Thanks, Bohannon. I appreciate that.”
“Bo. And I like you, Legend. I don’t know why, but I do.”
I shoot him a wry look. “That’s because I don’t give a shit that you’re a fancy movie star, and I can kick your ass in the ring.”
Thirty-Five
Scarlett
I wake up the next morning to the smell of coffee. Flynn pops her head in the bedroom, holding a steaming demitasse cup on a saucer. As happy as I am to see her, I can’t help but wonder if Gabriel decided he was done playing nursemaid and went back to his normally scheduled life.
“Hey. I gotta get home before I head to class. Kelsey will be by to hang out in a little bit, but she just messaged to let me know she’s running late and won’t be here for an hour or so. Her client has changed her mind four times on her hair, and she’s going to run way over on the makeup too.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be okay alone. I promise I’m not going to accidentally drown myself in the bathtub or something, especially since I have to wait to be able to take an actual bath bath.”
“You sure? Because I can easily be talked into skipping class, even though it is my favorite.” She walks toward me and sets the coffee on my side table.
“Go, Flynn. I’ll be fine.”
“Breakfast menus are on the counter. Amy said she’ll order whatever you want. You also have a call with Ryan and Christine in a half hour, which is really why I’m waking you up. That and I didn’t want you to think you’d been abandoned.”
I give her a small smile, because we both know I have issues. “Thank you. I hope you got some sleep.”
“Not really, but I’m used to it. I’ve got a date with my bed after class, unless you need me.”
“I appreciate the offer, but if today is anything like yesterday, I’m going to have a date with my bed all day too. Enjoy class and your nap. Thank you again for everything.” I reach for the cup and saucer and take a sip of the bitter, delicious espresso.
“You got it.”
She leans down to give me a hug and then steps away. “I’m impressed you haven’t asked if Legend was coming back. I mean, after you refused to spill the dirty details, I would have expected more from you.”
“What do you know?”
“He’ll be back. He had work stuff to handle. I put money on him showing up in a few hours, at most.”
“I’m not betting against you. You’ll take all my money, Black Widow.”
She smirks. “That’s only when it comes to cars, and you don’t even own one.”
“Then I guess I’m safe.”
“Safe from me. But Legend . . . he sounded annoyed that he couldn’t make it back sooner. He said he’d text you after you were awake. He didn’t want to bother you while you were resting.”
Warmth that has nothing to do with the coffee fills me.
“I like him, Flynn.”
“I know you do, sister. Just be careful. He might seem tame, but his reputation can’t be all talk.”
“I’m always careful.”
“Until you’re not.” Flynn winks. “I’ll see you later.”
I wave to her, lie back in my bed, sip on the espresso, and think about Gabriel. Tame or not, I’m ready because I’m finally living.
Unfortunately, the one thing I’m not ready for is the inquisition I get from Christine and Ryan a half hour later.
“You know I’m always on your team, Scarlett, but I’m a little concerned about Gabriel Legend,” Ryan says in his trademark soothing tone. “When I asked if we needed to hire assistance for you post-surgery, Amy mentioned that Legend was spending time with you.”
“Agreed,” Christine says. “I didn’t like you going to his club to begin with. Men like that are always looking for their next mark. It may be smart to start distancing yourself from him.”
For the first time since Ryan and Christine began
working for me in a professional capacity, I’m 100 percent offended by their comments.
“Excuse me?” My voice is quiet, but my tone carries a warning.
“We’re not trying to tell you how to live,” Ryan quickly adds because he can read me better than almost anyone. “We’re just concerned about this new development in your life.”
Christine doubles down on Ryan’s statement to go for the kill, as per usual. “Look, Scarlett, you’re a target. You know it. We all know it. I’ve been digging into Legend, and he is not a good guy. By all accounts, he’s looking for a cash influx, and you’re not going to be that for him.”
I don’t answer. The silence stretches, growing more and more awkward with every second that passes.
“Scarlett?” Ryan says my name in a gentle tone, but it doesn’t mollify my sense of being attacked. I’m not a child, and last I checked, my money was mine to use as I see fit.
“I’m trying to decide how to respond to you right now, because you’re both crossing lines you’ve never crossed before.”
“We get that it’s your personal life, but—”
I interrupt Christine. “Yes, it’s my personal life. And while I’ve been friends with both of you forever, there are certain areas of my life that I’m not discussing with you.”
“Please tell me you didn’t already give him money,” Christine says.
“No, but I’m seriously contemplating hanging up the phone right now, so we can start this conversation over in a fashion that doesn’t involve you treating me like I’m an idiot or a child.”
“That’s not what we’re doing. We’re just concerned. You’ve been through a lot lately, and we want to make sure that you’re okay.” Ryan’s statements are intended to settle me down, but right now, I don’t feel settled.
Christine starts again, but I tune her out for a beat as a question pops in my head.
Why am I being so defensive about this? Because they’re treading into territory that’s none of their business . . . or because I did think about how I could help Gabriel financially?