The Fight (A Standalone Novel) (MMA Bad Boy Romance)
Page 24
He made it to the door one step behind me and slammed his hands on either side of my head. He pounded them on the door a second time, for terrifying effect. I cringed against the door and felt panic cloud my thinking.
His breath was on my neck, but I forced myself to stop and think. Then, I ducked down and ran for my discarded phone. I scooped it up, but it was no comfort. Jackson had turned it off before he set it aside, and I had been pressing frantically at a blank screen. I turned it on and faced him.
His cheerful chuckle froze the blood in my veins. "And who exactly are you going to call? Your boss is thousands of miles away and will be more annoyed that you are compromising the deal than he will be concerned about your sudden chastity. Your big bad fighter is already at the arena. And, face it, whoever you call is not going to believe you, anyway."
"I'm calling the police," I said.
Jackson lunged at me again, and he knocked my shoulder as I turned. I stumbled off balance and saved myself on the edge of the couch. He was right behind me, his hands clamping around my waist. I started to pummel his chest with my fists, but all he did was chuckle again.
That is, until the front door of the suite splintered open. Fenton charged through the broken door and headed straight for Jackson.
Jackson backed off with his hands up, palms open. "Now, look what a mess you're gonna make poor Kya clean up. I'm telling you, he's no good for you."
"Fenton, I'm so glad you're here. I'm so sorry," I stopped when he waved me into silence. Jackson still stood between us, and Fenton was concentrating on his opponent.
"This is ridiculous and you know it," Jackson said. "What, are you really going to waste your chance at the title standing around here trying to accuse me of something that will never in a million years stick?"
"You're not above the law," Fenton said.
"No, but I know an awful lot of people that create the law, uphold it, and defend it. Face it, someone like me is untouchable, especially for someone like you," Jackson said.
"Not with witnesses," I said.
"Just you? Of course you're going to take your lover's side. It will never hold up. It looks like you two banded together to con me into this endorsement deal," Jackson tossed the signed contract on the coffee table.
"I know you did something to Sienna. Fenton and his manager saw it," I said.
"Again, a conspiracy," he said.
"Then, what about all those dancers at my sister's club?" Fenton asked. "You really didn't think they would talk to each other, band together against a threat? You're banned, the word is out, and they will have no problem making statements against you."
"No one is going to believe that bunch of whores," Jackson said.
Fenton lunged for him, his first kick landed on the side of Jackson's knee. Jackson cried out in pain but stood his ground and tossed a series of wild punches at Fenton.
The air fled my lungs. Fenton was going to get hurt before his title fight, and it would be all my fault. He was going to lose the title because of me. I could not let it happen.
Neither man saw me as they locked together, each determined to see the other bleed. I jumped over the white couch and grabbed the bottle of champagne Jackson had brought in. I stood up on the white cushions and waited for an opening.
Fenton slammed an upper cut into Jackson’s gut and I knew the next punch in the combination was a right hook to his cheek. Fenton could not afford to bruise or possibly break his knuckles on Jackson's face. So, I raised the champagne bottle high in the air and swung it down as hard I could.
There was a sickening thud, and Jackson crumbled. Fenton froze, his clouded blue eyes confused. Then, he blinked and saw me.
"Please tell me he's not dead," I said.
Fenton leaned down to check Jackson's pulse. "Not dead, not even fractured. Too bad."
He stood up, and I launched myself from the couch into his arms. "Thank you, thank you. I can't believe you came. I'm so sorry. Oh, Fenton, I never would have forgiven myself if you had gotten hurt. Oh my God, the fight! You have to go."
Fenton held me, his hand smoothing down my hair. "Shh, it's fine. You took him out in the first round. We have plenty of time. Are you okay?"
I felt my body shaking but the strength of his arms soon dispelled it. "I'm fine. You came for me. Wait, why did you come here?"
His lips curled into a smile inches from mine. "I came to see you. I wanted to make sure you were safe. Dana Maria told me about Jackson, and after what I saw with Sienna, I was worried."
"Oh," I said. I loosened my hold on his neck. "Thank you."
Fenton shook his head and laughed. He brushed a soft kiss across my lips. "I came for you. Turns out you were right. You said in your message last night that you had good luck. Well, I want some of it. Hell, I want you."
"You can have all my good luck. I don't believe in it anymore. I just believe in you."
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams