Tap Out

by Michele Mannon

  “Not negotiable. Hand it over. This is way more important than your documentary.”

  She pulled herself up straighter in her heels. Her head reached his chin. “You know how important this documentary is to me, just as I know how much you want to get to the bottom of things. Find out the extent of Jaysin dealing drugs...”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How much do you know about that?”

  “For the record, I believe you. I wanted to tell you, but...”

  He dropped his hand as if she’d smacked it down. “There’s a hell of a lot more riding on this than me cleaning up my shit.”

  “You dodged my question in the elevator, but you’re not going anywhere without answering it. How did Jaysin’s duffel bag get into the trunk of your rental? I do believe you, really. But this one fact has me puzzled.”

  “Hell. Why do you think I’d been grilling you for information since leaving Wichita? I thought you could explain it to me.”

  “So, you have no idea how the bag got there?”

  “Do you?”

  She shook her head.

  He ran a hand through his hair, his abdominals barking from the stretch. After completing an insane amount of sit-ups, weight training, and cardio-blasts, his muscles were tight. Yet the muscle between his legs jolted to life as her gaze fell on his body. Her cheeks flushed a familiar pink. He thought he heard her sigh.

  Terrific. Seemed his timing today sucked dirt.

  Sophie’s, it seemed, was spot on.

  Surprise. Surprise. Sophie had caught it all on film. Everything Bracken needed for a bust seemed to be on that SD card. Everything Caden needed to put behind him, so he could go on and win Tetnus. Earn Sophie’s...Man, oh man. What the hell was he going to do now?

  The clang of the locker room door smashing against the wall forced Caden into action. Gently, he pulled her away from the curtain and deeper into the shower. She gasped, and he placed a finger to his mouth, signaling her to be quiet.

  “How much for a dozen?” someone asked. The soft tread of footsteps sounded on the industrial carpeting.

  “What do you think, I’m selling eggs? One thousand for a bag of ten. If you want something that’ll pass the drug test tomorrow...goddamn it, someone’s in here.”

  Caden flicked the showerhead on and a cascade of cold water hailed down on them. Sophie shifted, tucking her camera under her shirt as she faced the back wall, trying to protect her equipment from water damage. Good girl.

  “Who’s in the shower?” Sophie jumped, clearly recognizing Jaysin’s voice.

  Damn.

  Counting to three, then careful not to move the curtain too far and give Jaysin an eyeful of the reporter who had had her nose way too far into his business, Caden stepped out. He intentionally widened his eyes on the three men. Two fighters from another organization, and Jaysin. They must have pocketed the pills, though. Only the duffel bag was in sight, there on the bench. He could easily handle one of them. Three, especially given his fatigued body, would be brutal.

  He shrugged his shoulders and stalked over to his clothing. “Forgot the damn shampoo.”

  His words had their desired effect, and all three relaxed.

  Jaysin went so far as to puff out his chest. “Gonna be nice and clean for tomorrow so I can roll you around on the dirty mat, huh?”

  He felt the challenge in Jaysin’s glare but ignored him. Tomorrow, asshat, he silently promised the man. And frowned. Maybe there was a way to get Jaysin out of the locker room and ensure Sophie made a clean exit.

  Hell.

  “You’ll be rolling around with me, alright, fuckhead. Just before you tap out.” He slid into his briefs and sweatpants without drying off. As he bent to put his sneakers on, he watched Jaysin out of the corner of his eye.

  “That right? Maybe you won’t make it to Tetnus? Maybe you’ll be too beaten to fight?”

  Caden stood and nodded at the door. “Let’s do it then. Or are you afraid to go at it with me in the cage without your babysitters?” He grunted. “Just what I figured—those muscles of yours are for show, right?”

  Jaysin’s entire body shook with rage. He snatched the duffel bag off the bench and with a silent glare toward his cronies, headed for the door. The two fighters paused for a second, grinning like kids invited to an ice-cream party. Then, they followed Jaysin out to the cage.

  Caden waited, long enough to know they’d gone.

  “Go back to your room and stay there. Got it?” He hesitated, then added, “And Sophie, for God’s sake, keep out of trouble on the way.”

  He heard her muffled voice through the water. “You’re soaking wet. Where are you going?”

  “To do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. Feed Jaysin the mat.”

  * * *

  The asshat should have seen it coming. Caden went in for a double leg takedown, sweeping Jaysin off his legs and taking him down hard. A hail of punches followed, brutal and fight-ending. But his opponent was either too stupid or so pumped up on steroids his brain was rot because he refused to tap out.

  Just as well. The cheating drug pimp had it coming to him.

  Trapping him in a butterfly guard, Caden flipped him over his head and pinned him face down to the mat. He grabbed Jaysin’s arm and angled it into a V behind his back.

  “Tap out, you piece of steroid-dealing shithead, or I’ll break it. Good luck defending yourself in jail.”

  Jaysin must have been high on something else, as well. “That lying bitch. I’m gonna kill her for nosing into my business. She can’t prove anything—I’ll deny it all. I’ll...”

  Caden didn’t hear what followed. He didn’t say a word. He let his skill as an MMA fighter do the talking.

  Using his full weight, he pressed Jaysin’s arm into his back, and was rewarded with a snapping sound.

  Jaysin howled, and tapped the mat.

  Tonight, his kind of justice had been served—with fist and kicks, and a firm hold on his self-control, all inside the Octagon cage. He’d stopped and called his brother en route to the cage, and was thankful to spot his leather-clad figure just before the fight began. Now it was time for Bracken to take matters into hand.

  Caden stood. The street moves had paid off, and for the first time in a long time, Caden felt solid. A worthy fighter. Someone to be admired, accepted. Not a thug, or an angry kid nobody wanted.

  This wasn’t just about nailing the steroid pimp in a drug bust. It was more. This was Caden’s own private tap out—on his past.

  In the time it took Caden to get an icepack for his cheek, Jaysin was taken out on a stretcher, to the hospital, then with the hard evidence from Sophie’s SD card, off to jail.

  “That was quick.”

  “I could say the same about you, bro,” Bracken replied. “Nice work. You broke the bastard’s arm.”

  They chuckled in unison.

  “Let’s finish this.”

  * * *

  “Tell me once more before we illegally enter her room. She’s got it all on film? The pills? The blood injections? All of it?” Bracken’s tone was cynical, full of doubt. But, he didn’t know Sophie like Caden did. Her gumption. Her determination to get her story. Her desire to succeed with the freakin’ documentary in spite of the danger involved. And then some.

  Caden grinned. Damn, he was proud of her. Seemed that documentary of hers wasn’t the sole focus of her filming—or so she’d told him. The truth was on that SD card. And, man alive, he didn’t want to be around when she’d realized it had disappeared.

  He was about to pull one shithead of a move.

  They stopped at her door, and with Caden’s silent approval, Bracken rapped on the door. His lips pressed tightly together, as they listened for no answer.

  They’d waited for her to give up her searc
h for Caden, had gotten lucky when she’d headed down to the casino. They’d told Sal to stick to her like glue, to keep her occupied and out of trouble. Five minutes, that’s all they needed. He hoped the information that Sal had provided them when he’d returned was correct—that Sophie was at the craps table with “her chips piled so high, she’d probably outearn Jerry here in Vegas.”

  Bracken had no hesitations. He swiped a room key, and they silently entered the vacant room.

  Caden was both exhilarated and annoyed. Excited that this whole ordeal with the drugs was coming to an end. And pissed off, thinking who Sophie was keeping company with—that blockhead Anthony.

  “You better talk to your girl about leaving her valuables out where any fool could take them, Caden.” Bracken unzipped the camcorder and plucked it out. Opening the viewfinder, he hit Play.

  Caden sucked in a breath when the image of Jaysin shooting blood filled the screen.

  “Sick bastard. Bet he’ll be needing another shot of blood after the beating you gave him. Too bad he’s going straight from the hospital to jail.” His brother turned the camera off and removed the SD card. “Let’s roll.”

  “How long is it going to take to make a copy? She’s worked so hard...and it means a lot to her. She’s going to go nuts when she finds out her documentary has disappeared.”

  Bracken folded his arms across his chest and scowled. “It’s this, or I get kicked back to a fucking desk job—courtesy of my asshole brother. You owe me, dude.”

  “A day?”

  “Jesus, man. A few days, with all the freaking paperwork to do. She’ll get her documentary back after I copy what I need off her card.”

  Caden nodded. Bracken’s word was golden. “Hang on.” He felt around inside the case’s side pocket until his fingers caught what he’d been looking for. He retrieved the spare SD card and smoothly placed it into her camcorder. “Better she not find out about her footage. She’s going to know it was me, but I can’t deal with upsetting her right now. I can’t afford any more distractions if I want to win. One more day to prepare, and that’s it. Angry isn’t the word for how she’ll react...”

  “I’ll do what I can, bro, to have it back to you ASAP.”

  His brother raised an eyebrow. Message read loud and clear. Caden’s actions said it all—he cared about her.

  Which, he told himself much later, after Bracken had left, was why he found himself outside the casino entrance, watching her as the pile of chips on the craps table grew higher and higher. He hoped to high hell she didn’t realize her luck had changed for the worse.

  And, that Caden was responsible.

  He turned and headed back to his room.

  * * *

  “Whoo, quite the pile of chips you’ve got going on there, Sophie. I came to warn you—be on the lookout for Jerry. He’s blaming you for ‘snitching.’ Something about money, and a couple of fighters being disqualified. They were pulled and drug tested tonight, instead of tomorrow. Failed it. Jerry thinks you, with all your snooping around, are responsible.”

  Sophie grabbed Sal’s hand and placed a stack of chips in it. “Don’t mention the slimeball promoter’s name, please. It might jinx me. Look,” she waved her hand at her pile, “I’m on another winning streak, Sal. The money I have in front of me is enough to put toward an advertising campaign for my documentary. Or better yet, the investigative piece I’m working on. Jeez, if I’d known how lucky...”

  “I’d say the Boys at this table are lucky.”

  The Boys ignored him, their attention fixed on the dice in Sophie’s hand.

  “Uh-huh. Your luck has changed. Are you guys listening? Jaysin hurt himself tonight while training. He can’t fight in Tetnus with a broken arm. He’s done.”

  Sophie’s fist paused midshake as the table almost shook from the Boys’ excitement.

  Was it a coincidence that Caden had left to spar with Jaysin hours earlier and the jerk ended up with a broken bone in the same time frame? By the time she’d dropped off her camera, changed into dry clothing and headed to the practice cages, they’d been nowhere to be found. She’d been to Caden’s penthouse with no answer. Briefly, she’d waited in her room for him to call or let her know he was okay. Nothing.

  At least he wasn’t hounding her about her SD card. Sure, she wanted to help him but that would have to wait until tomorrow, after she’d had time to duplicate the card, then delete all the footage she shot for her documentary, leaving only the investigative pieces for the Nevada police.

  Call her jaded, but it was too much of a risk handing over all her hard work, just like that. Who knew where her documentary might end up once it became evidence, and who’d get the credit for it?

  But, the police having a copy of her investigative piece added to her credibility as a reporter. She’d still make something work for prime-time television: Behind the Bust with Sophie Morelle.

  Her lips lifted into a grin. She wouldn’t have to focus on anyone’s chest this time.

  No way was she able to keep to her room in the state she’d worked herself into. She found the Boys—her form of protection against Jaysin—and set about calming her nerves.

  Lucky you, Sophie. The news about Jaysin was the cherry on her banana split of an evening.

  She raised her hand, ready to roll. “Caden was asking about you.”

  Her breath hitched. You’re telling me this now? She scowled at the addled old-timer. “Where is he?”

  Sal glanced at his watch, counted the minutes aloud, then nodded. “Twenty-five,” he murmured, before proceeding to answer her question. “Last I saw him he was getting into the elevator with the scariest looking dud around.”

  “Dude, Sal. Not dud. A dud is not scary.” She sighed. “So you don’t know where he is?”

  The Boys began chanting her name, interrupting her. Not one to disappoint them—not anymore, anyway—she let the dice fly.

  Six.

  Cheers erupted. Except for Sophie. Had the ugly dud taken Caden somewhere and hurt him? She shook her head. Doubtful. Caden had proved over and over that he could handle himself.

  So, where the heck was he tonight?

  Carefully, she gathered up her chips and tucked them inside her purse.

  Sal straightened next to her. “I’ll walk you to your room. Remember you’ve got to avoid—”

  “Jerry. Don’t worry, Sal. He’s probably off running illegal last minute bets for Tetnus, now that Jaysin is out of the picture. Tonight’s been a big win, no matter which way you look at it.”

  The old-timer nodded, yet his eyebrows rose skeptically.

  Tomorrow she’d improve her winning streak. Cash in her chips. Film the final day of training and the excitement leading up to Tetnus.

  But first, there was something she needed to watch. And, being that Caden was off somewhere, and given the late hour, tonight seemed like the perfect time to play his sex tape, and whatever else he’d secretly recorded. Before she hit Delete.

  * * *

  Sophie finished her text to Lauren and, grinning like she’d won the lottery—which, in a way, she had—hit Send. A phone call would have been more detailed, but hey, Sophie had something else requiring her attention. If she could only track him down.

  Dang-diggity. It felt great coming out on top for a change.

  She placed her cell next to the camcorder bag, and gave herself a mental scolding for not zipping it closed. Crapola. It didn’t matter, she had some long-overdue footage to watch. Tonight, she was in the right frame of mind, back on her feet, thinking clearly, and certain that as far as Caden Kelly was concerned, she’d made a mistake in judgment.

  She was on a winning streak. No better time to face the sweet country music.

  Let’s find out exactly what I’m dealing with, what Caden had to say on those three videos.
<
br />   A fist pounded on her door, causing her to jump.

  Immediately, she relaxed. No way was it Jaysin unless he escaped the ambulance en route to the hospital, broken arm and all. Something to consider, but unlikely. Jeez, more likely it was either her watchdog Sal, who’d lost something, his marbles perhaps? Or Caden had come for the card. Either way, that knock meant business, judging by the force behind it.

  “Coming,” she hollered and turned the knob.

  The door flew open, violently. The force of it smashed into her and sent her flying. With a gasp and a painful thud, she landed on her back. Shocked, she looked up and found a pair of small beady eyes glaring down at her.

  “You ruined everything, you fucking bitch. I told you I didn’t want you around or you’d get hurt. But, no. Miss Busybody was too busy snooping into my business, messing with my fighters, and turning my event into a media circus.”

  Sal stepped inside, took one look at Sophie sprawled on the carpet, and jumped in between her and Jerry. “Calm down,” the old-timer ordered, putting his palms out toward Jerry, as if he was ready to push him away.

  Jerry’s face flushed beet red. “Calm down? Calm down? My best fighter is out, injured with a broken arm. Fighter after fighter has failed the goddamn drug test. Steroids. The idiots have been taking frigging steroids. Thousands of guys are looking for a refund. And, if the media finds out about this, I’m ruined.”

  Yoo hoo, you jerk. I’m the woman who’s gonna get the job done, Sophie thought, struggling to stand. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to show America the shady, illegal dealings the promoter had going on. Her hands found her hips, and she gave him her best “fuck you” smile.

  His fist shot out, right over Sal’s shoulder, and connected with her cheek. Sophie fell back down for the count.

  Before Sal could retaliate—judging by the way the old-timer had his fists balled, he was about to—Jerry shoved him. Sal toppled over onto the floor next to her. Thankfully, Jerry stalked away from them, his gaze roaming the room.