by Erica Breyer
“You can stick around if you like,” he threw over his shoulder at her. Cassie nodded and trailed behind.
“It’s gonna be like this a lot, you know; better get used to it,” Maxwell said to her. She glanced up and frowned. “The training…the hours. If you’re gonna be a fighter’s woman, you gotta get used to it.” Cassie blinked but said nothing. A fighter’s woman…
“And don’t get me started on the moods. When we got him cutting weight, he can get like a teenage girl on her period.” She gave a little choke, and he chuckled ruefully. “Sorry…but you know what I mean…” Tyson had slipped through the ropes and was stretching. She would never grow tired of watching him put that incredible body through its paces. Her previous confusion around their conversation was fading away like mist.
Maxwell was still talking. “You’re probably gonna hate me a lil’ bit,” he’d said, smiling to take the edge off. “There’ll be times when I keep him away from you. This week is gonna be tough, big fight; gotta keep his head straight. But it’s what this game is about. It’s what he does. You get me?”
She nodded, trying not to feel like a kid being lectured by her boyfriend’s dad. His next words shook her a little.
“You’re good for him, Cass,” he said, turning to look at her. “I can see the difference…I know it hasn’t been long. And I know I bust his balls about you. But there’s a change. He’s a machine, ya know? Unstoppable…it’s easy to forget he has a heart. Easy for me, I guess. I’m so busy making sure he’s good on the outside, I sometimes stop thinking about what’s going on inside.” She was staring at him now. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she knew it was a gesture that didn’t come naturally to him. “You take care of that, okay? I’ll look after the rest.” Cassie nodded silently, and he turned abruptly to join Tyson in the ring.
Holy crap.
Things had just gotten serious in a whole heck of a hurry.
Chapter 14
Tyson arrived at the health club early for his Tuesday class and settled down at a table in the juice bar while he waited. The manager had sent a revised training schedule, and he wanted to go through it to make sure it didn’t clash with any of his private classes.
The mainstream class had been Maxwell’s idea – he said it was good marketing – but Tyson was starting to think it was chewing up too much of his time. Especially now that he was trying to juggle his own training and still find time with Cassie. He’d probably need to hand it over to one of his upcoming fighters. Could still be good marketing, and one of them might appreciate the extra exposure. God knew it was hard to make a living in this industry. He’d simply hit a lucky break. Coupled with nerves of steel and a blistering work schedule, he’d done well.
The paperwork kept him engrossed for a while until a noise drew his attention to a nearby table. Hissing. Giggling. Sibilant whispers. He glanced over.
A couple of blonde girls were huddling over a cellphone, their heads close together.
“Add a caption to that one; it’s hysterical!” the one whispered, too loudly. He recognized them from around the gym. Was pretty sure they were the two who’d been pecking at Cassie the day he met her. From that perspective, maybe he owed them a ‘thank you’. He shook his head.
“Wait,” the girl whispered again, “that one’s better. Put the caption there. How about ‘Cassie on her Assie’? Oh, my God, I’m dying!” The giggles intensified.
Tyson frowned, his radar pinging. ‘What the fuck are they up to?’ he wondered.
“You’re a genius! ‘Cassie’s Assie’! I love it. I’m going to make the letters flash. Oh wait, that’s a good one too,” one of the girls said. “The one I got of her at Pilates. And the shot of her in the change room. That’s the best. You can add the treadmill pic next to it and link it to the oinker clip.” There was more whispering. “That’s perfect. I think it’s done,” said one.
Now he was getting riled. Whatever they were up to, it involved Cass, and it wasn’t good. He took a breath and stood, walking casually over to their table. One of the girls glanced up, her giggles dying down as a flirty little grin popped up.
“Hey, Ty,” she said archly – as if she knew him – giving him the once-over. Smug.
“Hey,” he answered. No idea what her name was. “What are you ladies up to?” The pair of them twisted to face him; he could almost feel the breeze from the frenzied fluttering of fake lashes. He flashed a grin designed to melt panties.
They looked at each other, clearly still delighted with their own little moment of hilarity. He stepped closer. One of them raised an eyebrow at the other, and the other nodded. The first girl turned back to him with her phone outstretched.
“We’re putting together a little clip,” she choked on a giggle. The other one snorted out a laugh. “I’m going to upload it to Tik-Tok. She’s…she’s priceless!”
Tyson reached for the phone and looked down at the screen. The girl brushed a finger across the touchpad to set the video rolling. Her nail clicked against the screen; a little gem was set into the silver polish, and it glittered with the movement. Tyson watched as a series of images played out in a stream.
Cassie contorted in a Pilates class. Cassie stumbling on a treadmill. Cassie bending over to get a drink of water. Cassie practically naked in the change room. ‘What the fuck?’
The phone squeaked and squawked with the sounds of barnyard animals that they’d attached to the photos. Cows, donkeys, pigs. Arrows pointed out various areas of Cassie’s body. Each image had been captured at awkward, unflattering angles. The girls were starting to giggle again as he watched. Tyson felt himself go cold. He looked up, carefully schooling his expression.
“Would you send me a copy?” he asked the girl, thanking his years of martial arts discipline for helping keep his voice steady.
“Sure,” she said, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, “I’ll need your number…” She shot a glance over at the other blonde, who widened her eyes and mouthed, ‘Oh, my God,’ silently. As if he wouldn’t notice. ‘Fucking moron.’ He calmly recited his number, and she punched it into her phone. A second later, his own phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and glanced down at the screen.
“Thanks,” he said, feeling his jaw clenching. “You’re Sasha?”
“Yeah,” she said breathlessly. “That’s me. You can keep my number…you know, in case you want to reach me. Anytime. For…anything…anything at all…” She licked her lips, flicked her hair over her shoulder, and leaned towards him. He met her halfway.
“Oh, absolutely, Sasha,” he replied smoothly. “I’m going to need that information…for my attorney.” She blinked. “Because if this little piece of shit goes anywhere near the internet…in fact if it goes anywhere other than your trash bin…you will be hearing from him.”
She leaned back and took a sharp little breath. “What…? I… What do you mean? We’re just having fun…it’s a joke!”
Tyson kept his voice low and a smile on his face. Anyone observing would think they were simply having a conversation. “It’s no joke to me,” he said. “It would certainly be no joke to Cassie. You’re right…she is priceless. Priceless to me. And if I find out you’ve done anything to hurt her, I’ll have you so wrapped up in lawsuits, your entire career will be dedicated to paying them off.”
The other girl gasped in outrage. “You can’t…you can’t talk to Sasha like that!”
Sasha was regaining her attitude, arms crossed her chest. The silicone didn’t yield much. “She’s right! My dad will—”
Tyson choked on a little laugh. “Your dad? How old are you, Sasha?” he asked.
“What?” she looked confused. “I…I’m 26. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You’re 26, and you’re threatening me with your daddy?” He grimaced. “Stands to reason. Because this little ‘prank’ is something I’d expect from a grade-schooler.” Her nostrils flared.
“You can’t tell us what to do!” the other girl snapped. Any semblance of
flirtiness had vanished, and he was struck by how unattractive the pair of them were. Age was not going to be kind to these girls.
“Shut it, Stace!” Sasha nudged her friend, probably because she believed he’d make good on his legal threats. And he would.
“Why would you do something like this to Cassie? To anyone?” he asked, looking from one to the other.
“What’s it to you?” Stacy barked. “She comes in here, acting like a pig, getting in the way of people who actually want to train. She’s asking for it.”
For a second, Tyson stared, almost not believing her arrogance. “Shit like this hurts people, Stace,” he sneered her name in a way that made it sound like an insult. “Right now, you have the advantage of youth and good health on your side. I assure you, that will change. Life will happen to you, and when it does, you’d better pray that all it leaves you with are a few extra pounds. Quite frankly, you could use a few anyhow.” He could see she wasn’t hearing a word he was saying. People like this were the thing he hated most about the fitness industry.
“You’re a dick,” Stacy countered. Not faced with threats of legal action, she had more bluster than Sasha, who had been sitting in sullen silence.
Tyson shook his head. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he bit out, losing his patience. “What makes you think that this is funny? It’s cruel.” He held up the screen. “I promise you, for the next week, I could have a dozen kids snapping pics of you and your little partner in crime over here – and they’d find a hundred…a thousand moments where you look like an ass. You can catch anyone in an unflattering moment anytime. Photos are like that. They rarely capture what’s on the inside. That’s the part that matters.” The pair glanced at each other and rolled their eyes. No hope.
He clenched his jaw. “Why am I even wasting my breath? You’ll never get it. You can package it however you like – Botox, highlights, fake tits, fake nails, fake everything. You’re still ugly. Leave my woman alone.” Sasha’s mouth dropped open.
He got up and stalked off. A moment later, the giggling started up again. This time, there was a nervous edge to it. Bravado.
He knew they wouldn’t pull another stunt like this.
✽✽✽
Cassie had grabbed a chair and was watching Tyson in the ring with Maxwell. The extra time he had to put in for the fight coincided with a new campaign that was keeping her glued to her desk for umpteen hours a day. Between her workload and his training schedule, these few moments at the gym had been all they’d been able to steal. If she hadn’t been so busy, she’d have felt herself pining. Which was just not her style.
Although if she was honest with herself, the anticipation was building to a fever pitch. She was pretty sure anyone looking at her right now would be able to see raw hunger laced through her expression. She’d never wanted anyone as much as this man. She suspected it had a lot to do with the stream of texts they’d exchanged in the past days during the endless hours they couldn’t be together. He’d always kept his words just short of sexting, but there’d been nights when she’d wanted to hit the call button and beg him to talk dirty to her. Hell, she’d been tempted to get in her car and go straight to him after she’d burned the midnight oil at the office. But the thought of being one of ‘those girls’…a booty call? That curbed her every time.
Tyson had pulled his shirt off and was coated in a light sheen of sweat. Maxwell was shirtless too, and the pair were a picture of ebony and ivory as they rolled across the mat.
“Come on, man, get your head in the game! You could’ve broken that hold easily,” Max was chewing Tyson out. Tyson grinned apologetically then threw a breathless smile over at Cassie. She’d rested her elbows on her knees and had her chin in her palm, gazing up like a schoolgirl with a crush. He winked at her, and she beamed. “I’m serious, Ty! Don’t make me send her away!” Maxwell warned, softening his words with a crooked smile in Cassie’s direction.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll behave, I promise,” Tyson answered, but his expression was anything but sorry. He was still watching her. He bounced to the side of the ring and pointed at his water bottle, where he’d left it with his phone on the chair beside Cassie’s. She stood and handed it to him, her nose almost brushing his bare belly as she did. He pulled out his mouthguard and drank deeply, the muscles down his abdomen flexing. It seemed impossible, but those muscles were even more defined than when she’d been ogling him at the beach.
‘Oh, yeah…’ A swirl of man-scent surrounded her – soap, fresh perspiration on hot skin…probably a healthy dollop of testosterone too. Did that have a smell? Her girly bits assured her it did.
He handed the bottle back, returned to Max, and she sat back down. The screen on his phone was shining, and she shot a look at it. Message from Clint. She looked back up at the men on the mat. Her man on the mat. Damn, he was fine! The phone vibrated again. Then again. And again.
“What the hell is that buzzing?” griped Maxwell. “I can hear it from here.”
“It’s Ty’s phone,” said Cassie. “Looks like something from Crank.” She was secretly proud at having a handle on all the nicknames. Made her feel like she belonged here. She did belong here.
Tyson pulled a face; he was breathing hard. “Shit…he’s sorting that case today. Might be important. Won’t you check it, babe?” Babe. He called her ‘Babe’. She should hate it. But she didn’t.
“Can’t. I don’t know your pin code to open the screen,” she replied, frowning down at the thing as it lit up again. Definitely Clint.
“Cass,” said Tyson, wiping the back of his hand across the sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“Yes?” she responded.
“It’s Cass.” She was still confused. “My pin…2-2-7-7…Cass,” he said.
Maxwell snorted. “Ah no, man. You gotta be joshin’ me!” Tyson shrugged.
Cassie’s cheeks were burning. She pulled up the messages and read.
“What’s he say?” Tyson asked.
“He was looking for something…he said a case number? But he found it. Everything is sorted. He’s clear,” Cassie said.
“Great,” Tyson breathed out, rolling his shoulders and squaring up to Maxwell again. “Time he learned to clean up his own shit.”
“Asshole,” Maxwell muttered, squaring equally impressive shoulders as he faced Tyson. Dang, these guys were hot. Why had she never been a fight groupie before?
“Tell him I said ‘good boy’,” Tyson added.
“Sure,” Cassie answered, her fingers moving across the screen. “I’m putting in a kissy face.”
“No!” Tyson’s head shot round to her, his expression alarmed.
“Too late, I’ve already sent it,” Cassie grinned like an imp.
“Ahh, nuts!” grumbled Tyson.
“You see now,” Maxwell bit out, “that’s what happens when you let a woman in. They always gonna mess with ya!”
Cassie poked her tongue out at him. The phone buzzed again. “He answered.”
“What’s he say now?”
“You probably don’t wanna know,” said Maxwell.
Cassie frowned. “Um…he said he’ll scrub your back, but only if he gets to be on top? I don’t get it.”
Maxwell’s laughter was cut short as Tyson took him to the mat. “Motherfucker!” he finally gasped. “For that, you get no Cassie time tomorrow…” Tyson was on his back, had his calves clamped around Max’s waist and a forearm wrapped around his throat, his elbow angled under his chin.
“Yeah?” he bit out. “You sure about that?” Maxwell was grunting.
“Yeah!” Max refused to give in, and Tyson tightened the choke. Maxwell arched his back, writhed, twisted, and finally slapped the mat three times. Tyson rolled off him laughing. “You’re still not getting Friday, fucker,” Maxwell muttered, aiming a small smile at Cassie, who pouted. “I need you focused, Ty.”
Tyson’s face darkened. He glanced at Cassie and shrugged. Maxwell had warned her there’d be sacrifices. Bu
t all bets were off after that damn fight was out of the way, and she could finally get her hands on him.
Chapter 15
The ref tapped their gloves together, and the bell rang for the round to start. Tyson inhaled through his nostrils, biting down on his mouthguard and setting his sights on the man in front of him. Carter ‘Predator’ Hawke was watching him the same way; eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring slightly.
He was tough.
Tyson had seen him in action. Heard the trash-talk before the fight. It was part of the marketing game – they’d probably have a beer together in a week. But right now, he had to take him down. That was where he did his best work. Take him to ground and choke him out. He watched as the guy danced in front of him on the balls of his feet, knowing he was being sized up similarly. Knowing that Carter would be as eager to keep this off the ground as Tyson was to get there. Stand-up was the Predator’s game – he had a lethal right hand, and Tyson had no intention of letting one land. But he knew it was inevitable he was going to take a few hits before he got him where he wanted him. That was the strategy.