Tap Out

by Michele Mannon

  She sat up straighter in her chair and squarely met his gaze. That seemed to please him, because his lips slightly twitched. He nodded his head, and she watched him jog off to catch up with Caden on the walkway leading out of the arena.

  Sophie sighed.

  “I was waiting for him to leave so I could talk to you,” Sal muttered. The first sane decision Sophie’d seen him make. The old-timer took the vacant seat beside her. “It does my heart good to see you back in action with that camera. Shame about your documentary.”

  She shrugged and patted the old-timer’s arm. “It doesn’t matter. How are you, Sal? Did the medics check you over too?”

  The old-timer scowled. “A little shove by that minion like Jerry was child’s play for a guy like me.”

  “I’m talking about what you did afterward, jumping on Jerry’s back like that.”

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “Ah, you heard about that, huh? Hell, Caden did worse...”

  “I know. If the roles had been reversed, and Jerry put a beating on Caden, I’d have been tempted to do the same.”

  Sal grunted. “The way you put a licking on Jaysin with your heel is something the Boys will never forget.”

  Sophie grinned, having forgotten about her first confrontation with the drug peddler. Heck, Wichita seemed like years ago. Decades ago.

  A shell of a woman named Sophie Morelle had set out on this journey, but for every mile traveled, had come to realize she was so much more than a blue-balling television host. So much more than a victim of Hank, and the misguided people of Hawley. When she’d left Pittsburgh to film her documentary, little did she know her perspective on MMA fighters would change, and that she’d fall in love with the Ultimate American Man and top welterweight fighter himself.

  But were her feelings reciprocated?

  Suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

  “Be back in a sec,” she repeated Bracken’s words to Sal. The arena had calmed down somewhat, the audience socializing with their neighbors as they waited for the next qualifying bout to begin. Providing an unobstructed exit out of the main event area and into the hallway leading to the locker room. She stood, repositioned her camera bag strap on her shoulder, and followed the same pathway Bracken had taken a moment ago.

  Halfway to the locker room, a team of men filled the hallway and slowly headed her way. She stopped to record their progress, spotting the next fighter en route to the cage. Anthony.

  Before she could wish him good luck, she was swooped up into his big arms for a bear hug.

  “My lucky charm. God, it’s good to see you’re okay and back on your feet, Sophie. Jerry deserved everything Caden dished out to him. If I’d known what was going down, he’d have had a taste of my fist and kicks as well.”

  Once more, Sophie was reminded how wrong she’d been about the Boys. Sure a few bad steroid-induced apples had to be sorted out, but the majority of fighters—like Anthony—were decent, hard-working, disciplined men. She gave him a fond peck on the cheek, then asked, “Have you seen Caden?”

  Anthony’s arms stiffened around her before he set her back on her feet. “He’s in the locker room with his brother.”

  “Is anyone else in there?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  Sophie squeezed his arm. “Thanks. And, Anthony?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How do you like sassy brunettes? Because, boy-oh-boy, my friend Lauren is going to love you.” Sophie made a mental note to get a hold of her best friend, and perhaps do a little matchmaking. That is, after she took care of her own affairs of the heart. She heard him chuckle, though her attention shifted toward the men’s locker room. “Good luck in the cage today, okay,” she murmured, then headed over to the door.

  To knock or not to knock? Well, it wasn’t like she hadn’t enjoyed seeing Caden’s beautifully naked body. Multiple times, beginning with his all-too-revealing billboards.

  She entered, but didn’t see anyone. Her ears perked up, however, at the sound of his voice. He was describing a fighting technique, something about a Peruvian necktie. She strode forward, needing to see him in person, before his next qualifying bout, about the little ole issue of how she’d fallen hard for him. She wanted to see his expression, and know his response.

  Caden let out a long stream of cusses.

  Sophie stopped in her tracks.

  “Here is where things start to get as sappy as shit, bro,” Bracken said. He sounded louder, his voice carrying from the other side of the row of lockers.

  “Hell,” Caden said, sounding exasperated. “Turn it off, man. Just give me the copy you made, and forget what you saw.”

  “No can do, brother. Fuck, this is the first time I’ve seen you like this.”

  Sophie jumped as something banged against a locker door. A stream of curses followed, less muted, and sounding a heck of a lot closer. What was going on?

  “I should have deleted it when I had the chance.”

  Someone drew in a long breath.

  Bracken spoke. “It’s fucking beautiful. I want you to hear yourself, hear what it sounds like when you love someone. You know why?”

  “Why?” Caden growled, his frustration obvious. “So you can be reminded how fucking weak I am?”

  Sophie winced, surprised at his words and distressed by the pain in his tone. Weak wasn’t even on her Caden Kelly descriptive radar, yet that’s what this discussion was about, right? Caden’s misguided self-conception. And, what was all this talk about...love?

  Bracken snorted loudly. “Weak? Is that what you think?”

  Silence followed. Sophie quietly tiptoed her way to the end of the row of lockers. She wished she could see their expressions and discover what was reflected on Caden’s handsome face.

  “Listen, man. This video isn’t about weakness. It’s about strength. Honesty. Courage.”

  Caden snorted.

  Bracken continued, his voice so deep Sophie had to freeze so as not to miss his words. “You deserve to feel this way for once in your life, Caden. To dig deep, and acknowledge you love someone like that, takes balls. Especially given what we’ve been through. You made it, man. Got out of your head and into your heart.” She heard him grunt. “I’m envious. Sit and listen.”

  Caden let out another stream of cusses. Sophie’s heart raced at the sound of his low, gravel-filled voice.

  Was this her video?

  “This is way too early in our relationship to tell you this, chili bean. Fuck, I can hardly believe it myself. Mind-boggling, really,” Caden addressed her.

  Holy. Sweet. Crapola.

  His video messages hadn’t been destroyed—unless there was a fourth one floating around out there, which was highly doubtful. Had her documentary and investigative footage survived as well? Jeez, she should have watched all three of his videos a long time ago. So many questions and doubts could have been avoided. So much heartache, and distrust.

  “Never thought I had it in me. But there is something about that smart-ass mouth of yours, the way you deal with stuff, with me, the way you blush after I tease you...” He paused.

  Sophie cupped her palms over her mouth to keep from crying out, fearing she’d miss his next words.

  “Fuck. Okay. I love you. Got that, chili bean?”

  She blinked away her tears. Then, sniffled. Dang. He’d made her cry.

  “I don’t deserve you but I do love you.”

  Bracken spoke. “That’s took real courage, bro. I’m proud of you.”

  Caden groaned, then murmured, “I’m deleting it. She’ll never know if you keep your trap shut. Better that way.”

  “Your mistake. Yours to make.”

  “At least she’ll have her documentary.”

  She heard a low whistle. “You’re all she’s got, for now. I’ll n
eed to collect this copy when you’re done. I can’t turn it over to you or her, not until the investigation is concluded.”

  Caden is all I’ve got. He’s all I got for now. For always.

  Sophie didn’t know whether to laugh or keep crying. She almost did both, simultaneously, when Bracken came barreling around the corner and practically knocked her off her heels. He stopped short, his gaze running over the full length of her.

  He reached out, placed a finger under her chin, and gently raised her head back up from where she’d bowed it. A dismal attempt at hiding her tears, anyway. His gesture spoke volumes.

  Chin up, Sophie.

  He whistled, a jaunty, upbeat tune, filling the silent locker room on his way out.

  Sophie straightened, smoothed out her blouse, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Inhaling deeply, she stepped around the end of the lockers and over to the other side.

  Caden sat on a bench, hunched over onto the forearms on his thighs. Deep in thought as he studied the floor. An outdated camcorder—a loaner from the police station?—rested on the bench next to him. Thankfully, the footage of Caden talking was still running. Muted, but not deleted.

  Silently, she stepped forward and approached him.

  At first, he seemed not to notice her, completely absorbed by his own dark thoughts.

  She tapped her open-toed heel, hoping the movement might catch his attention.

  It did.

  His eyebrows narrowed, briefly. Then slowly, his gaze traveled over her heels, up her bare legs, over her slim pencil skirt, along the neat row of buttons on her blouse, then at last, onto her face.

  “You heard?”

  “You are not deleting that video. Or you’ll have a real fight on your hands. One you have no chance of winning.”

  “Hell.”

  “Hell is right.” She paused, laughter bubbling up inside her at the shocked expression on his face from her cussing. The devil deserved to be surprised, as well, after the L-bomb he’d dealt her. Served him right she’d made a video for him, too. A bit of video payback—if Caden hadn’t erased it. Which made her softly add, “That’s mine. And you’re not deleting it. Ever.”

  Caden sat up and leaned his head back, his gaze fixed on her face.

  She shifted forward, and lightly cupped his cheeks between her hands. “You said it first, back in Phoenix.”

  He snorted. She refrained from grinning like a madwoman, sensing just how unsettled he was about baring his soul on film like that. Jeez, was that why he’d kept demanding to know if she’d watched the videos? Unsettled or not, she wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. She’d come this far. Now she wanted to shake his world, her world, flip it upside down until they both didn’t know which end was up. Until everything was clear, and beautiful.

  “I told you in Sedona that I was falling for you. You said we were done—knowing you’d already left me that video.”

  He closed his eyes, then opened them. “Cowardly bastard,” he murmured.

  She sank to her knees and brought his head down to hers. “The bravest man I know.”

  His eyes flashed. He leaned in to kiss her.

  “Say it,” she demanded against his lips. “I want to see your face this time.” She hesitated a second before pulling back. Then, she gasped.

  The transformation in him stole her breath away. Gone was the hard cynic. The doubtful lover. The warrior. Before her was the real Caden, a man filled with so much love that his eyes watered as his smile lit up her heart.

  “You asked for it, chili cheeks. I love you. I want you. I need you. And, I’m never letting you go. Got it?”

  She laughed. “Got it.”

  “Heck, I’m tired of fighting.”

  “Me too. And, you know what that means.”

  Caden’s eyes sparkled, his green depths drawing her in like a sweet summer meadow. “Goodbye Vegas. Hello...Pittsburgh?”

  She shook her head. “What I mean is after you win Tetnus—you have to finish what you started, Caden—then, we’ll see about doing exactly the opposite of fighting.”

  “Loving?”

  “Exactly.”

  He tilted his head and slowly leaned in, closing the distance between them. “I’m not waiting anymore,” he murmured, and swooped in for a kiss.

  His tongue wrapped around hers, frantic and full of need. Sophie lifted herself up on her toes and leaned in closer. The kiss wiped away years of heartache, and promised years of passionate bliss.

  In between the past and the future, was the near present. A documentary, investigative footage, and the story of two people falling in love. And it had all been captured on film.

  She pulled away slightly and murmured against his lips. “So you’re not deleting the video.”

  “Nope. Guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

  Sophie stepped forward, boldly. Time to seal the deal. “Now let’s see if this cat can make you purr.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  TAP OUT: When a fighter taps his opponent’s shoulder and says, “Let’s take it from here, chili cheeks”

  For the first time since her crazy quest to document the day in the life of an MMA fighter had begun, Sophie really understood what all the MMA hype was about. Bare-chested, barefoot, and barely breaking a sweat, Caden was hotter than his billboard as he dominated the Octagon cage.

  With one quick movement, he’d flipped his opponent over his shoulder and took him down to the mat.

  She conveyed her thoughts aloud, for the audio to pick up. “Caden has his opponent on the mat and is twisting the guy’s arm into what has got to be a painful position.”

  “An Americana” she heard Bracken comment.

  “It looks like Caden is trying to dislocate his shoulder while keeping him pinned in place.”

  Bracken shook his head in disagreement, and motioned for her to turn off the mic. She did so, and he quickly commented, “I’ll narrate but keep my name out of the credits. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  Just as quickly, she flicked back on the mic, and Bracken began speaking in a low voice.

  “Caden is a professional. What you are seeing is a rare and extremely painful maneuver called the Americana. See how Caden’s got the guy’s arm angled on the mat?”

  He paused while she adjusted the lens to fully capture the movement.

  “When you pin someone’s arm to the mat like that, it pulls on the tendon in his elbow and shoulder. It’s all about precision, and Caden has done it beautifully. If the guy doesn’t tap out, his tendons will shred.”

  She glanced at Bracken. The pride in his tone spoke volumes. His gruff demeanor couldn’t overshadow his love for his brother.

  “Ready? He’s gonna tap out in a few seconds. And Caden...he’s just won Tetnus.”

  Bracken knew it. The crowd knew it, and began to cheer wildly. And just as Bracken predicted, Caden’s opponent knew it. Four seconds later, he tapped out.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” a broadcaster announced enthusiastically, pausing to make his way over to Caden, and move his arm into the air. “The winner of Tetnus, by submission with a surprise Americana, Caden Kelly!”

  She caught it all on videotape, the crowds’ fist-pumps, the broadcasters pat to Caden’s back, and the sheer look of pleasure on Caden’s face. Heartbreaking.

  Heart-stopping.

  He turned in her direction and looked directly into the camera.

  Or...at her.

  Her pulse quickened.

  Slowly, he sauntered across the mat until he stood directly above her. Her jaw went slack as she peeled her eyes off the image of him in the viewfinder and looked directly up at him.

  He smirked down at her, then blew her a kiss.

  The crowd went wild.
<
br />   So did Sophie’s heartstrings.

  Everyone’s attention was on her but she didn’t care. The world was about to find out what a lovestruck softie Sophie Morelle really was.

  Cupping her hands together, she pretended to catch his kiss and tugged her hands over heart.

  “Locker room in ten,” he shouted down at her.

  “Or sooner,” she hollered back.

  He grinned in response.

  Sophie made her way to the concession stand situated outside in the hallway. Caden had to be hungry, and she hurried to place an order for two chicken sandwiches, minus the buns and condiments, unsure how long his diet regimen would last.

  Coincidentally, one of the guys from Channel 27 bumped into her—which meant he’d spotted her from his seat way up in the nosebleed section and had followed her into the hallway. Evidently, sometime between the locker room and turning her copy of the SD card back over to Bracken, Caden had had his manager contact her former network and told them to send out a field reporter, that Caden had something to show him. Caden had played her tape, pitched her documentary as the definitive piece on MMA fighters and the hottest sport around, and let it drop that she had the inside story on the doping scandal.

  Seems Caden was making amends for sequestering her SD card.

  Money was not an issue for them, the network lackey told her. She’d sign an exclusive four-year contract, with annual bonuses, a car, and a new Late Night show.

  In return, they’d be the sole network to broadcast both her documentary and an exclusive investigative report on doping in sports.

  Poor guy. This lackey was going to get an earful when they heard her response. Calmly, she informed him, “I’m holding out for a national network. Rumor has it they’re looking for a reporter to host a new investigative show. Something tells me I’ve got a pretty darn good shot at being hired.”

  “The network said if you come back you could name your salary.”

  “Right. What are they paying you, anyway?”

  His flush said it all. Peanuts.