“Didya see that? Drake grabbed a guillotine but Renegade popped out.”
“Huh?”
Jake lands a big uppercut then just misses Drake with an impressive spinning turn followed by a powerful elbow strike. Drake dives down for a clinch, and the sharp blast of a whistle cuts through the cheers of the crowd.
“Fuzzy?”
Rampage sighs. “Fuzzy.”
Within moments, the floor is clear. The crowd is disbursed. Rampage and the class are back on the mats under the grapple dummies. Fuzzy has the two miscreants on the bleachers and glares at them like they’ve committed a crime. I sit beside Jake, guilt gnawing at my stomach. I should have sent Drake away.
“We’ve got a rule here about fighting outside the ring,” Fuzzy barks. Then he glares at Drake. “And you know better than to mess with someone’s girl in the gym.”
Drake’s eyes flick to me and then back to Fuzzy. “Didn’t know they were together. I was just helping out. Amanda and I are good friends.”
Jake growls softly, then leans back on the bleachers and drapes his arm over my shoulders, jerking me into his side. Possessive. Challenging. His legs are spread, his body seemingly relaxed, but his jaw is tight, and his hands clenched into fists.
Silence.
Fuzzy sighs and dismisses Drake, promising to think up a suitable punishment by the end of the evening.
After Drake leaves, Fuzzy glares at Jake and nods toward the side door. “Fists of Fury offered to finish up your class. I have to write up a formal warning for both you and Doctor Death. You might consider paying attention to the rules because friend or no friend, you know Torment won’t hesitate to boot your ass out the door if you pull this kind of stunt again.”
Jake grunts his understanding but doesn’t move.
“You’d better get back to your class,” Fuzzy says to me. “Rampage has your Grapple Man waiting for you. I think Shilla the Killa is free. She’ll be able to help you out.”
Jake’s hand tightens on my shoulder. “I’ll help her. She’s missed most of the class anyway.”
Nonononononononono. My wish wasn’t a real wish. More like a passing fantasy.
Fuzzy looks from me to Jake and back to me. “Maybe that’s not a good idea.”
“Definitely not,” I say softly.
“Don’t care if it’s a good idea.” Jake gets to his feet and pulls me up, then tucks me under his arm. “That’s what’s going to happen.”
Jake ushers me over to the corner. He gestures me down and we sit cross-legged facing each other as he runs through the three different techniques he is going to teach me. As he talks, his face softens and his eyes light up. His explanations are clear and simple. He gives examples, asks me questions, and is infinitely patient when I struggle with the answers.
As he talks, my mind drifts back to the night we met in his kickboxing class. Even then his passion for teaching drew me in, warmed my heart. He is in his element and I wonder how he could have given it up—or how I could have given up on him.
“Amanda.”
I startle when I realize he’s been talking and I haven’t been paying attention. My cheeks burn and I meet his stern gaze. “Sorry.”
“I said I heard about what you did for Homicide tonight.”
“I didn’t—”
“And Rampage and Obsidian.”
“I haven’t—”
“And that you aren’t charging the fighters to run the case against the idiots from Hellhole.”
“I couldn’t…”
His face softens and he reaches up to cup my jaw, stroking his thumb over my cheek. “You’re really something, baby, but you can’t help everyone. You won’t stay afloat if you do everything for free.”
With a shrug, I look away. “They helped me out. I’m just returning the favor.”
“You’re more than returning the favor. No one here will forget what you do for them. And neither will I.”
Finally, it is time for the demonstration. Jake positions me on my back, his gi rustling as he moves. Then he kneels between my legs. For the first time, I notice he is still pumped from the fight. The vein in his neck is throbbing, his hands clench and unclench, and power simmers beneath his skin. He is all red-hot alpha male. Testosterone oozes from his pores. And in that gi, his chest slightly bared, danger clinging to him like a cloak, my body responds with a violent shudder of need. What would happen if I set him off?
“Hands out of the way. I’m going to mount. We’ll try it first from the closed guard.”
God, yes. Mount me. Mount me.
He leans over me, his hips between my thighs, and rests his hands on my chest. My breasts swell instantly, nipples hardening to tight peaks.
“Closed guard means your hands are around my neck, feet up on my back around my hips.” He is breathing harder now, but not as hard as me.
“I feel like a baby opossum,” I murmur as I take the required position. “They also like to hang upside down by their hands and feet.”
Jake’s lips quiver with a repressed smile and his voice softens. “My baby opossum. And no one touches her but me.”
Except he didn’t want to touch me in my office. Gah. I can’t handle this hot and cold. Push and pull. Trying to figure him out is making my brain ache.
“We’ll try the gogoplata first.”
I wiggle my hips from side to side. “Sounds like a dance.”
“Stop,” he grits through clenched teeth. “It’s a serious move.”
“So is this.” I give another wiggle and Jake hisses in a breath.
“You’re not being serious. You’re being tempting. And if you keep that up, it will be the Submission Master for you.”
“Now who’s being tempting?”
I’m pushing him but I can’t help myself. Everything MMA oozes sex, and Jake in his gi is just too much. I want him. I want to drive him crazy with lust. As crazy as me. And then I’m going to walk away so he knows how it feels to be left hanging.
“Who came up with that name ‘Submission Master’?” I murmur. “It turns me on just to say it.”
Jake jerks back until he is on his knees between my legs. “Christ, Amanda. I’m trying to teach you something. It’s hard enough just mounting you, but when you talk like that…”
Amused, I push myself to my elbows. “I’m talking fight talk. Don’t I have the words right? Submission, master, ground, pound, dominate, dominant, mount, rear naked choke hold…can we do that one next?”
Jake’s chest heaves and he studies me—focused, intent. Then his eyes narrow as if he’s made a decision and it’s not going to be good for me. His voice drops to a low, threatening growl, and I shiver. “Don’t play a game you’re not prepared to lose.”
Duly warned, I capitulate. “Okay.”
With quiet patience, he talks me through the rest of the move, which involves him mounting me again and resting one hand flat on my breast while I pull his other hand through and tuck his body firmly between my thighs.
Desire rushes through me like a tidal wave. Jake, hot and heavy, sexy and dangerous, lying on top of me, is more than I can take. His lips are so close it is everything I can do not to take a little taste. I want him so badly, I ache inside. I need to know if Rampage is right and he really thinks I’m his girl.
“Baby? You all right?”
His old term of endearment almost does me in. Oh God. It would be so easy to fall for him again. So gorgeous. So confident. So sexy. But I can’t let myself get emotionally hung up on him. I couldn’t handle it when he got close before. What would happen if he got close again? My heart thuds anxiously. Torn between fear and desire, I loosen my grip. He’s right. I can’t play this game because I don’t want to lose.
“Why did you drop your guard?” he murmurs. “You’re only halfway through the submission.”
“I can’t do this,” I
rasp. “Please…just…get off me.”
His eyes darken to an azure blue and his body stiffens. He shifts his position and takes his weight on his elbows now positioned on either side of my head. But his hips are still pressed tight against mine. And…Oh God. He’s not wearing a cup and he’s as aroused as I am.
“Why?” His breath brushes over my cheek and my body trembles with need and the effort not to act on my most carnal desires.
Almost dizzy with the onslaught of emotion and the rush of blood through my veins, I can barely get the words out. “Jake…please…get off.”
His voice drops to a low, commanding growl. “Tell me why.”
I look around for someone to help me, but we are very much alone in our shadowy corner. I take several deep breaths, but my heart continues to pound. I silently beg Jake to walk away, but his steady gaze is on me.
“Please.”
He caresses my cheek and presses the softest kiss to my lips. “Why, baby?”
“Because I want you.” I draw in a ragged breath. “Because I want you and you don’t want me and this game we’re playing is too much when I have to deal with you…like this.”
For a long moment, he studies me, and then he gently brushes my hair away from my face. “You think I don’t want you?” His lips whisper over my forehead sending a firestorm of hope through my body. “You think I’m this hard because I don’t want you?” He grinds his pelvis against mine and the press of his steel-hard erection against my throbbing sex rips a moan from my throat. “I told you before, my life is just one fuckup after another. But I thought I’d finally got my life on track when I joined Redemption, started fighting…met you. And then it all went to hell. I lost you, Peter, my fight career, and my friends.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I blurt out. “It was me. I couldn’t commit so I used the excuse of being upset that you wouldn’t reveal Torment’s identity to get some distance. And then Drake…I didn’t leave you with any options.”
Jake shakes his head and his face softens. “Not letting you take all the blame, baby. Although after meeting your parents, I can see why it’s hard for you to get close to people.”
“Just people I’m afraid of disappointing.”
“You walked into that meeting room, and suddenly I got a second chance,” he says softly. “I’m back in Redemption, back on my game. But this time I’m doing things slow. I’m not fucking this up. Just once in my life, something is going to go right. I want you, baby, but first I need to know that you’ll let me in.”
He wants me. But how do I know what he’s saying is true if he doesn’t speak in a language my body understands?
With a groan, he leans down and kisses me. His lips are warm, firm, unyielding. His tongue breaches the seal of my lips and then he is everywhere, exploring, tasting, possessing. My body arches toward him and he slides one hand under my lower back and presses me tight against him.
Oh God. I don’t want this moment to end. I concentrate on every detail, committing them to memory: his body warm and hard on top of me, his lips soft and gentle, the steady beat of his heart, the fresh scent of his soap, the taste of coffee on his tongue…and the soft chuckle of Rampage as he joins us on the mats.
Damn.
“What the hell?” Rampage scratches his head from the far corner of the mat.
Jake looks up, totally unembarrassed, and smiles. “New submission. It’s called lip-lock.”
“I’d like to get me some of that.”
Jake curls his free hand possessively around my head. “I don’t think you do.”
“Not with ’manda.” Rampage rolls his eyes. This I can see because I have tilted my head backward.
“Something I can do for you?” Jake shifts his weight to his elbows, caging me with his body.
Rampage rubs his hand along his shorts. “Um…Fuzzy sent me to tell you that your next class is ready. They’re waiting for you on the mats.”
With a heavy sigh, Jake pushes himself back to his knees and then helps me up. “Later, baby. I’ll meet you after class.”
“Later.”
Jake teaches his class. Then he helps a new recruit with some grapple moves. Then he covers a class for a sick instructor. Then he jumps into the ring to coach some newbies.
He tells me he has a hard time saying no when people ask for help. Torment turned his life around, and he feels obligated to pay it forward. Some of his students can’t afford the fees for a private coach. Always, he is solicitous and apologetic, but he never gives me the impression there is anywhere he would rather be than in the ring helping out.
After a few hours of chatting with the fighters, practicing my moves, and working on my form, I finally find my self-respect and call a cab.
***
First thing in the morning, my phone buzzes on my desk. Jake’s name flashes on the screen. For a moment, I hesitate. Do I want to talk to him? Last night he promised me later but later never came. Maybe just as well.
My hand hovers over the phone, but finally curiosity overrides reticence, and I open the message.
about last night
I stare at the phone. Maybe I’ll forgive him. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll make him suffer like I suffered last night since my vibrator was a poor substitute for what he promised me on the mats.
**frowns**
Forgive me, baby. Need your help.
What help?
My phone buzzes again. This time he has sent pictures of clothing.
Which suit?
For what?
Board meeting
Gray
Which tie?
Blue stripes
Which shoes?
Shiny black
Hate suits
I’ve never seen you in a full suit
You want to see me in a suit?
In and out of suit
Bad girl. BEHAVE
No choice. Someone left me high and dry last night
Make it up to u. Have 4 tix to see nu metal band, Slugs.
Slugs ≠ sex. Take a friend
U
I’m not ur friend
True. I’ll come by 2nite and show u how unfriendly I can be
No can do. Working 2nite. Have to interview witness
At night?
Farnsworth case. Only time she is available
Alone?
Penny is coming with me
Not pleased **frowns**
Get over it **laughs**
Will text venue address for concert. Meet u there
I haven’t said yes
Say it
Bossy
Say it
Yes
One more thing…
What?
Don’t wear panties
Chapter 10
I’M NOT LIKING THIS BOSSY NEW YOU
“Quesada Street. There it is!”
“This is so exciting.” Penny bounces in her seat as I pull the car over to the side of the road. “I’ve never been to the bad end of town.”
“There are many bad areas of town. This isn’t anywhere near the worst. A lot of families live here and parts of the area have been transformed with community gardens.”
Penny raises an eyebrow when I secure my vehicle with two clubs. Even though we are in the “good part” and things are slowly improving, Hunter’s Point still has one of the highest crime rates in San Francisco.
After double-checking the address on my phone, I grab my briefcase. First step in collecting evidence against Farnsworth is to establish he propositioned other women at the firm and I remembered hearing rumors about Jill Jackson, an intern who left the firm abruptly last year. She’s agreed to one interview and my heart thrums in anticipation. If I can establish a pattern of harassment, we won’t ever get to trial. Farnsworth will b
e begging me to settle.
We walk past a patchwork of small plots with a sandbox and rope swing, surrounded by a barbed wire fence. Jill’s house is at the edge of the garden, and a few minutes later we are settled at her kitchen table.
“She’s a mini you,” Penny whispers as Jill leaves to get the coffee. “Same long, blond hair. Same big blue eyes. Same creamy skin. Only difference is you have about two inches on her and bigger baps.” She squeezes her breasts by way of translation.
“Thanks, Penny. Good to know you notice these things.”
“How can I not? I seethe with jealousy any time you wear anything tight.”
I am saved from further sarcastic retorts when Jill returns with three coffee cups and a plate of cookies. Penny records our meeting, takes notes, and eats the cookies while I ask questions.
Yes, Jill worked closely with Farnsworth. Yes, Farnsworth was overly touchy. Yes, she often found herself alone with him. He wined and dined her on the pretense of discussing cases. He took her with him on business trips. On one of these trips he came on to her, but she had a boyfriend she loved dearly. She turned Farnsworth down. He threatened to fire her and make sure she never worked in the area again. She told him to do his worst. He did. Now, she is keeping up her skills at the community legal aid clinic and still looking for a job.
After leaving Jill’s house, Penny and I decide to celebrate the damning evidence against Farnsworth with a visit to a wine bar in the Marina District, but when we return to the vehicle, we have unexpected company.
“Hi,” I say to the two scowling males who bear a suspicious resemblance to Jake and Ray. “How did you know we were here?”
Penny grimaces. “In my excitement, I might have mentioned our interview to Ray when he called to say he wouldn’t make it back to the office this afternoon. Then he might have casually tossed out a ‘No way in fucking hell are you two going to Hunter’s Point.’ After that, I might have said we were going anyway because we didn’t need his damn consent. Then he might have tossed out a few choice swear words and muttered something about waiting for him to get back to the office so he could come with us. To which I might have replied we were two grown women and didn’t need a babysitter. So who’s up for a drink?”
In Your Corner Page 13