Alexis had to clear her throat. “Thank you.”
She struggled with what to say next. How to respond and let him know how much she appreciated his guidance. But as quickly as he had gone into godfather mode, he switched back to cranky lieutenant mode.
He heaved a stack of thick files toward her. “All right. Read up on our Mr. Dekker. You’re going in for recon only. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Alexis stared at the files in her lap. How much information could there be on a washed-up MMA fighter?
“We just want names and places,” Beck reinforced. “No confrontations, no playing hero. Just plain ol’ simple information gathering.”
Alexis gulped as she nodded. Information gathering. She could do that.
“Have I made myself clear, Detective?”
“Yes, sir,” Alexis said, rising from her chair. She tried to sound a hell of a lot more confident than she felt.
“Good.” Beck braced his palms on the desk, pushing himself to his feet. “I want you at Dekker’s studio at 7:00 p.m. sharp. You’ll go in as a prospective student. I’m sure you’ll have no problem talking your way into private lessons.”
“I’ll try my best, sir.”
Just like that, he escorted her out of his office. There was barely enough time to let a flicker of a smile rise to her lips, when she spotted Grace. The older detective was slamming drawers and mumbling under her breath about a lost pen. Anger management, much?
Alexis took the long way around to her desk as Nick caught up. He didn’t say anything for five steps. A record. “I’m sure you have something to add?”
Nick frowned. “Mixed martial arts, huh? Zumba doesn’t count, Alexis.”
She turned on him. Granted, he had been the nicest and most supportive of all the detectives—hence, the pity dates. But Nick could still go too far.
“Zumba? Really, that’s all you’ve got? Like you’ve ever taken a roundhouse to the chin.”
Nick’s eyes flashed with anger. “That’s not the point.”
“Yeah, it kind of is.” Okay, after her talk with Beck it wasn’t, but Nick didn’t need to know that. “And as a matter of fact, I do have significant MMA experience.”
Okay, maybe dating a guy in college who never went pro wasn’t significant, but at least she knew the terminology and wouldn’t embarrass herself by leading with the wrong leg.
Nick sighed. “There’s nothing I could say to change your mind?”
Alexis just shook her head.
“Then how about I try to say it over a beer and my world-renowned organic onion rings?”
Nick tried, he really tried, but Alexis needed a guy who maybe didn’t have to try so hard.
“Look, Nick …”
Ugh. Nick got that look on his face. The one that puppies get after having a bone taken away. The look that said, “I guess everyone was right. Nice guys do finish last.” It was the look that had gotten her to go out with him in the first place.
“I can’t,” she said, and Nick’s face fell a little further. “Beck wants me at Dekker’s gym tonight.”
“Tonight?” Nick said, suddenly not crestfallen at all. “So soon. Are you ready for it?”
Actually Alexis wasn’t at all sure, but she definitely wasn’t going to admit that to Nick. Not with Grace hovering around, and not-so-subtly eavesdropping.
She just gave him that look. That way she didn’t have to lie.
“All right, all right,” Nick said, hands in pretend defeat. “I won’t ask any more questions as long as we have dinner tomorrow night.” Nick hurried on. “Did I mention that the oil I use to deep-fry the rings has zero trans fat?”
Right. Like her cholesterol level was the biggest hesitation to saying yes to the ominous third date.
“Let me get back to you tomorrow morning.”
Nick’s lips didn’t quite fall into a frown, but neither did they smile. He looked ready to press the issue, but then just nodded.
“You won’t find it offensive if I offered you good luck?”
Given the fact that Alexis needed all the help she could get, Alexis answered, “Not at all.”
CHAPTER 2
The rope from the ring bit into Travis Dekker’s callused hands. Two of his students sparred in front of him. Well, attempted to spar. This was supposed to be MMA fighting. It was more like a kindergarten karate class. But that is what you got when you lost control in the ring, as he had. The crowds that once cheered you on to victory threw you out into the cold.
The cold world where a once-great champion was forced to teach those so far inferior. The gym was filled with them. While these two attempted to spar, the mats behind him were filled with equally eager but inept wannabes. Dekker could hear the sound of punches hitting the bags. Never quite as satisfying as hitting flesh though, he could tell you.
Gritting his teeth, Dekker watched as Bull grazed his sparring partner’s face with a weak backfist. Both men’s breaths came in gasps, and they dragged their feet as they circled the ring. Bull’s opponent, Mitch, retaliated with a front kick. His stance weak, guard dropped, Bull sidestepped the kick, sweeping Mitch’s leg. His opponent stumbled, but righted himself.
Dekker had seen enough. Slow and sloppy. What they needed were quick jabs and pivots. Go in for the kill. Otherwise, what else were they doing here? This wasn’t some Zen Buddhist kung fu, “only learn to fight to protect yourself,” crap. This was fighting to win.
“Hold!” Dekker shouted. The room silenced at his command. Students practicing on the floor stopped and snapped to attention. All eyes riveted on Dekker.
Dekker jumped down from ringside and landed lightly on the floor. He surveyed the sorry group in front of him.
“What kind of pussy moves are you practicing?” Angrily, he flung his arm toward Bull and Mitch in the ring. “This isn’t some spiritual mecca we’re on. We’re here to kick some ass.”
Some murmured in agreement, but most held their tongues—uncertain of which way the wind blew. Well, if you wanted the wind to make up your mind, you weren’t ready for the shit storm coming at you.
“If you can’t give me all you’ve got and then some, there’s the door.” Dekker jabbed his finger toward the exit as a twenty something brunette strolled in. Her face was wary at the silence in the room. She wore snug jeans and a T-shirt, and her face was pretty but not stunning. She must be lost, because she definitely didn’t look like the type to date the crew in this room.
Focusing his attention back on the group, Dekker stated, “I’m dead serious. If you aren’t up to taking me on, then get out. Now.”
Dekker glared at each man in turn. He had to give them credit. Only a couple backed away, their heads bowed. The rest stood their ground, even with the threat of getting their butts handed back to them.
Dekker gave a curt nod. “Good. That means the rest of you are ready to fight. What is the first rule of combat?” Dekker looked up into the ring. “Bull?”
Bull vaulted over the rope and stepped in front of Dekker. At six feet and two hundred fifty pounds, he was still a few inches shorter than Dekker and without nearly as much muscle.
“Get to your opponent first,” Bull answered.
Dekker paced back and forth, glaring at his students. “And how would I do that?”
“First, you would take the offense …”
Dekker slammed a back kick into Bull’s stomach, taking him off guard and off his feet. Bull’s breath came out in a grunt as he hit the floor. Dekker spun, getting Bull in a chokehold. Bull frantically clawed at Dekker’s arm, twisting and turning on the floor, trying to break free.
A satisfied smile spread across Dekker’s face.
“Something like that, Bull?” he asked as the muscles on his arms bunched under the pressure he exerted on his student’s neck. Unable to get enough air into his lungs to speak, Bull just nodded. Dekker released his hold.
As Bull slumped to the ground, clutching his throat, Dekker resumed his pacing.
“O
nce you’ve taken the offensive, never let up.” Dekker stopped in front of a heavily tattooed Hispanic youth. “What is the second golden rule, Miguel?”
Miguel hesitated before stepping forward, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “Um. Once you have him down, keep him there?”
“Exactly.” Dekker faked a lunge, sending Miguel reeling backward. These punks thought that they were street hardened until they walked into his studio. Like he said. Pussies.
He chuckled as he turned from the group, catching the woman’s eye. Her mouth was slightly parted, her eyes focused so intently on him that he felt he could feel the heat of her breath on his cheek. Was it reflex that caused him to nod in her direction? Whatever it was, he could not get distracted from his lesson.
He spun hard on his heel, back to his students. “If your opponent can still get up and walk away, you haven’t learned jackshit from me. Once you have him, finish him.”
As the woman made her way to his side of the gym, Dekker had to keep his eyes forward. What was his problem tonight? The chick wasn’t even an eight.
“Now get back to sparring,” he instructed. “And I want to hear grunts of pain. If I don’t, then I’m coming back out here to make sure that I create some of my own. Remember, no mercy. Got it?”
“Yes sir!” The group shouted in unison.
Dekker basked in their ferocity.
Maybe, just maybe, one day each man would know what it felt like to hold another man’s life in his hands.
* * *
Alexis felt the room shake as the students repeated their answers. Well, if nothing else, Dekker inspired loyalty.
“Well then, get to it!” Dekker ordered.
As the students broke rank and found their sparring partners, Dekker headed to the back of the gym. She had hoped to strike up a casual conversation out here on the floor, but she wasn’t so lucky. Her eyes followed him as he headed to his office and firmly closed the door behind him.
She struck for the back wall and followed it, skirting half a dozen intense matches. Clearly, his students took his words literally. Groans, moans, and grunts filled the gym as they all wailed on one another. Perhaps she really didn’t need a private lesson. At least not tonight.
But with Dekker’s girlfriend on the slab, Alexis didn’t have the luxury of waiting … or be intimidated. Making certain that everyone was too engrossed in their matches to care what she did, Alexis knocked on Dekker’s door.
No answer. He was in there, right? She couldn’t recall a separate exit from his studio. Damn it, she should have read the file that Beck had given her more thoroughly. But how much more could she have crammed in with just four hours of study time?
She knocked again, this time more assertively. Again. No answer.
Alexis glanced over her shoulder. No one knew her here. She could turn around and walk away. Tell the lieutenant that Dekker wasn’t here. No one would know the difference.
Except her.
You didn’t get very far in the department without pushing yourself. If there was ever a time to step up, it was now.
Gingerly, she reached out and laid her hand on the doorknob. Almost wishing it didn’t open, she turned the knob. The door opened to reveal Dekker sitting at his desk, reading over some papers. He didn’t even acknowledge her entrance.
“Hi,” she said, but he still didn’t respond. “Um, the receptionist isn’t at her desk.”
Dekker looked up, showing off a hundred little scars that riddled his face. You would think it would make him unattractive. Instead, the uneven tissue highlighted his blue eyes and strong jaw.
“So you thought, hey, why don’t I go bother the owner of the place?”
“Sorry,” she said, and then stopped herself. “Actually, no. I’m not sorry.” She held out her hand across the desk. “My name is Lexie. Lexie Thomas. And I’m interested in taking lessons.”
Dekker went back to reading his papers, leaving her hand awkwardly hanging there. “They’ve got a women’s self-defense class next door.”
“No. It’s your class that I’m interested in,” Alexis replied, trying to keep her voice from trembling as she pulled her hand back.
Dekker threw a thumb toward the gym. “The schedule is posted in the hall. Leave a note for Agnes if she’s not at her desk.”
Tonight was not going how Alexis thought it would at all. She had played out this scenario a thousand times, changing it each time, preparing for every contingency. Having Dekker be dismissive clearly was not one that she had rehearsed.
“Actually,” she said firmly, “I’d prefer private lessons.”
* * *
Something about the way she said “private” made Dekker slowly raise his eyes, taking in her form. The chick had to be about five eight, and a hundred thirty pounds. Toned, but not muscular. She would never be able to hold her own in a ring against the girls who came in here. Hell. Half the guys out in the studio couldn’t handle some of the butch females.
“And what gives you the idea that I give private lessons at all, let alone to someone like you?” he asked.
This Lexie looked like a scared rabbit, ready to bolt from the hunter. And if she knew what was good for her, she’d run. Now and fast.
Lexie tipped her head down and looked at Dekker through her long, thick lashes, trying to take on a sultry tone. “I think we could find a reason.”
There were chicks who knew how to seduce—and some who didn’t. Melissa, poor, cold Melissa, was the former. Lexie fit in the latter category. Didn’t this girl know that even after a hundred broken noses and joints that creaked on a cold night, he could still walk out of a club with any girl he wanted?
But the funny thing about this fumbling seduction was that not even Lexie looked as though she thought it would work. Which really was kind of endearing, so Dekker softened his tone as he countered, “I could get better on Sunset and Vine … for twenty bucks.”
Ouch, that looked like it hurt a little as she winced. Dekker didn’t need his fists to land a body blow. He wanted to see exactly how tough this girl was.
“I’ll double your fee,” she stated.
Offering sex, and now money? What was this girl up to?
“Why would that be?” he asked, leaning in close, letting her smell his testosterone.
* * *
Alexis really should have been thinking about how embarrassed she would be if she fell flat on her face on such an important assignment. She should have been thinking how disappointed Beck would be, but all Alexis could think of was how well sculpted Dekker’s pecs looked under that white T-shirt.
Her old training officer’s words bubbled up from the depth of her memory. “Go with honesty.” “Don’t overthink your cover.” “Tell the suspect what he or she needs to hear.”
The words tumbled from her lips. “You’re the only one who teaches what I want to learn.”
“And that would be?”
He refused to release Alexis from his gaze. His stare made her heart skip a beat and her stomach drop. She knew that her hand fidgeted with the hem of her top and her shoe kicked at the corner of the desk, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Still he stood there, waiting for an answer.
“How to lay someone low,” she said. “Not just defend yourself, but make people respect you.”
A slow smile spread across Dekker’s face. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.”
Internally, Alexis sighed. She was in.
But maybe she counted her chickens too early as Dekker stepped to the door. “But not for you, sweetheart.” He indicated the exit. “Find a good yoga instructor and call me in a few years.”
Her legs were heavy under her. She had failed. Not just for herself, but for the investigation. If anyone else came sniffing around, trying to infiltrate the gym, Dekker’s suspicions would be aroused. If she didn’t find a way in, another innocent person could die.
What was it her training officer had taught her? “If you are losing control, do the
unexpected.”
Alexis did the most unexpected thing that she could think of. Her leg flew out in a side kick as Dekker dodged to the right. He spun tight around, snatching her in a headlock. A gasp escaped her lips as he pulled their bodies close together.
* * *
“Now why’d you go and do that, darlin’?” Dekker asked. The smell of strawberries still lingered in her hair. Her fingers were soft, even though they dug into his arm.
“To prove how serious I am,” she squeaked out.
“Still not buying it. A pretty thing like you has no reason to take up my ways.” Dekker released his hold and pushed her toward the door. “Now get out.”
The woman stumbled forward, but didn’t leave. She turned to him, blinking back tears.
“My older sister was raped and killed when I was just a kid,” she said. “The guy was never caught. I’ve lived my whole life looking over my shoulder, wondering if he would come for me.”
Shit. That sounded like the first real thing she had said tonight.
“And what’s this got to do with me?”
“If I meet someone like the monster who killed my sister, I not only want to stop the fucker, I want to kill him.”
That he believed. Revenge. No matter what the poets said, it was actually best served up hot. Still he didn’t get his reputation by falling for every sob story.
“Why now?” he asked as he closed the distance between them. “Why tonight?”
This time she didn’t flinch under his gaze. “I saw on the news that a woman was killed. She looked a little like my sister … I don’t want to end up like her.”
No. No, she didn’t look like she did.
And she did have the balls to try to kick him. She deserved some reward for that stunt alone.
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