The disappointment in his eyes told her he knew she was lying. He seemed determined to press her on the matter when a voice barked down the hall, “Scott! My office! Now!”
“Hey, Coach.” Kyle dropped into the chair across from Coach’s desk.
He looked at Kyle over his cheaters that magnified the man’s eyes. “How’s Willow?”
“As of this morning, no change.”
Exhaling a sigh, Coach pulled off his glasses and tossed them onto the desk. “You been avoiding me, son?”
“No. I’ve just been busy.” He’d been avoiding him. “Why do you think I’m dodging you?”
“It’s generally the impression I get when my calls are ignored.”
Kyle raised his hands. “It wasn’t intentional, honest. I haven’t been home. If you’ve been calling the house—”
“You started therapy yet?”
He was pretty sure Coach already knew that answer to that question. “No. Haven’t you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Dr. Summers went back to New York. Urgently, I guess. I’m not sure if she’s coming back.”
“Aw hell... I needed her to do the evals on Thorson and Grim.”
“You signing them both on, then?”
“Yeah. Thorson’s flying back to Minnesota at the end of the week. I need to get this shit wrapped up.”
“And Grim?” Kyle wasn’t sure how he felt about the fighter joining their ranks. There was a lot of controversy surrounding him. They say even bad publicity was good publicity in this business, but Kyle wasn’t so sure—case in point Nikko Del Toro. Not many people knew this, but August “The Reaper” Grim had done prison time. Three years to be exact, and although there was speculation and rumors, no one knew why. If Coach was privy to the intel, he wasn’t saying shit about it. But considering the wild card Del Toro was, Kyle wasn’t certain their MMA family could handle another black sheep joining their little herd.
“You got a problem with Grim, Scott?”
“No problem, Coach.” He was on thin ice with this guy as it was. Even if he did have a problem, he certainly wasn’t going to say shit to Coach about it, and in Grim’s defense, he’d seemed on the regular every time Kyle had dealt with him. Maybe he wasn’t giving The Reaper a fair shake by holding his past against him. God knows, they all made mistakes.
“You got a problem with the way I run my gym, Scott?”
Coach had something in his craw and seemed to be itching for a fight. “No, sir. But I, uh... I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Shit, he didn’t want to do this right now. But when was the timing ever going to be right? “I’m quitting the CFA.”
Coach stared at him a moment. Not blinking, not moving. Was the guy even breathing? But then he drew a breath and sucked in a lungful of air before blasting him. “Are you trying to give me a goddamn heart attack? I’m too old for this shit! I keep telling you boys that and I’m convinced you’re trying to kill me.”
“Not trying to kill you, Coach, I swear. It’s just—”
“It’s just what? Spit it out.”
“Regan didn’t throw the first punch. I did. The fight was my fault and you need to give him his contract back. My knee is fucked and I’m no good to you like this, but Regan will be healed and cage-ready in a few months. He’s a wicked talented mixed-martial artist and he deserves a shot at the welterweight title. He needs to be able to provide for himself, and for the family he’ll someday have. Even if my knee does heal one-hundred percent, I’ll never fight him in the octagon, and I know Dean. As long as I’m fighting for the CFA, he’ll never accept that.”
Coach was silent for the longest time. Thoughtful. “So you’re giving your spot in the CFA to Regan. That’s what you’re telling me?”
“I’m telling you I threw the first punch, so I’m the one who should have been fired.”
“What are you going to do if you quit?”
“I really don’t know. Learn macramé?”
Coach chuckled and shook his head. “You’re an idiot for doing this.”
“I know.”
“You’re throwing away the career of a lifetime.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to regret this.”
“Maybe.” But Kyle didn’t think so.
“All right, then. You’re fired. On one condition.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“You come work for me.”
“Excuse me?” Wasn’t that what he was doing right now?
“I want you to take over managing the gym.”
What the hell? “I don’t know, Coach, I—”
“Hear me out before you say no. I’ve actually been giving this a lot of thought. I’m old and—”
“You’re not that old.”
“I’m old. And I’m trying to manage two gyms halfway across the United States. All this running back and forth is wearing on me. My Minneapolis gym is new. It needs my time and attention, and my brother isn’t well. I want to be near him. Dean agreed to interim for me as a favor, but running this gym was never part of the plan. I need someone here I can trust, someone who has good relationships with my fighters and will uphold the Miller MMA name that will one day be my legacy.”
Holy shit.
“I don’t know what to say, Coach.”
“Say you’ll think about it.”
“Why me?”
“Why not you? You know this business like the back of your hand. You’ve got an unused Harvard education—”
Half an education.
“—You’re a talented fighter, and I have no doubt about your scouting abilities. You support your team, work hard to better them, and yes, I know you’ve been sparring with Del Toro after hours, so don’t even try to deny it. You’ll do right by my fighters, and by this gym, because it saved your life just like it saved mine.”
“But Easton—” That was who should be running the gym. Not Kyle. He and Coach were like father and son, not to mention he was engaged to Coach’s niece and would soon be family.
“Cole has his hands full. He still has his fighting career, and he’s helping me run the Minneapolis camp. Plus, Katie wants to be close to her dad, so he’s flying back and forth as much as I am. He can’t give this gym the TLC it needs. But you can.”
Kyle’s head was spinning. This was not the direction he saw this conversation going when he walked in here. But considering the convincing pitch Coach was laying on him, it was obvious the guy had been giving this some serious thought.
“Wow. I’m honored.”
“Just think about it and we’ll talk in a few days. I haven’t said anything to anyone and I expect you won’t until this is settled.”
“Of course not. Are you going to give Regan his contract back?”
Coach laced his fingers behind his head and stretched out in his chair. “I don’t know. If you were the manager that decision would be up to you.”
They both knew Coach wanted to take Regan back. It had gutted him to let the fighter go. “I’d say take him back.”
Coach smiled, and damn if that approving grin didn’t make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “And that right there is exactly why I want you running my gym.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Kyle stood to leave and Coach came around the desk, pulling him into a back-slapping hug. “I love you, son. Your father…he’d be very proud of the man you’ve become.”
And he’d almost made it out of here without shedding a tear.
Chapter Twenty-One
Since leaving his coach’s office, Pen could tell something was bothering Kyle. He seemed distracted and preoccupied. She was getting to know him well enough that she could sense the subtle shift in his moods. For the most part, he had an even-keel temperament and she liked that about him. Considering what he was dealing with, she’d go as far as to say he had an impressive ability to handle large amounts of stress. So then what happened in that office to throw him off his game?
She remained quiet on their drive to the station, giving him time to process whatever was on his mind. As he pulled into the parking lot, the silence stretching between them was starting to gnaw at her and she had to ask. “Kyle, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer her right away. Giving up hope for a response, she reached for the door handle, then froze when he said, “I quit the CFA.”
She whipped her head around to look at him. “You did what? Why would you do that?”
He shrugged, but she wasn’t buying the nonchalance. Kyle wasn’t impulsive. He’d been thinking about this for some time.
“A lot of reasons.”
Of which he seemed to have no intention of explaining to her.
But then he sighed and roughly dragged his hand through his hair. “MMA is a love-hate relationship for me, I guess. I love it because it saved Willow’s and my life. It gave me an opportunity to provide well for her, and I hate it because every day I walk into that cage it reminds me of everything I’ve lost—my parents, my dreams, myself. This isn’t who I am. It’s what I’ve become, and I know that makes me sound like an ungrateful prick because I get it… there are tons of guys out there who would kill to have my career, but I’ve never felt that this was it for me. Now Regan? Yeah...that guy is all heart. He was made for this shit, but this has never been my dream.”
“What did your coach say when you told him?”
“He offered me a job managing the gym.”
“Wow. That’s a great opportunity, right?”
“Yeah. I mean…definitely.”
“But do you really want to give up fighting?”
“I think I do. I won’t fight Regan and I don’t see another way around it. I could ride out this injury until my contract expires and then jump weight classes, but that feels dishonest.”
“Then you need to pursue your dreams. Do what makes you happy. Do you think managing the gym will accomplish that?”
“It might. I’d get to scout and train fighters, involve the gym in community outreach. I could create a youth program. Maybe I’d take your advice and start up some self-defense classes. Whatever I do, I know I want to help people. This way, I could do that without leaving my camp. I’d have the best of both worlds and it would help Coach. I could make sure Regan gets his contract back.”
“I think that’s a great idea. It sounds like you should accept the job. Regan’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
He cut her an odd glance, as if perhaps he didn’t agree but would rather not discuss it. “I read the article on you two in the ATC magazine that came out last month.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You read Against the Cage?”
Kyle popped the door open and got out of the car. She followed, coming around the back to meet him. “We keep it at the office for the fighters so they have something to read when they come in. And you were on the cover so, yeah…I read it.”
They headed across the parking lot and started up the steps. The smile he gave her could have melted the panties off a nun. “You fan-girling over me, Cantrel?”
She nudged her shoulder into his arm and returned his grin. “Maybe a little bit.”
He stopped outside the door and pulled her into his arms. Looping them loosely around her waist, he dipped his head to kiss the sensitive spot on her neck. Despite the hundred-and-five-degree heat index, goose bumps prickled her arms.
His voice was a sexy whisper near her ear. “If you ask me nicely, I’ll give you my autograph.”
She busted out laughing. “Oh, will you now?” Giving him a playful shove, she put a little distance between them. After their up-close and personal sparring session at the gym, she was already hot for him, her body hyper-aware of every touch. And he was making it so much worse by flirting with her. Realizing he’d derailed their conversation, she steered it back to safer ground. “So, you’d rather quit than fight your best friend in the octagon. I guess that’s understandable.”
“Former best friend,” he clarified. “He lied to me and I’m not sure there’s any coming back from that with us, but I sure as hell don’t want to see his career end over it.”
“And now you have the power to save it.”
“Yeah, it kinda looks that way, doesn’t it?”
“For what it’s worth, from an outsider’s perspective, it doesn’t sound like he lied to you as much as he just didn’t tell you the truth. Maybe he was afraid of how you’d react. He could have worried you wouldn’t be able to get beyond his past and all you’d see when you looked at him was his mistakes.” She could relate. Pen was testing the waters with him because she too had her own lies of omission.
“He betrayed me, Pen.”
“We all make mistakes, Kyle. You won’t forgive him?”
“I forgive him. I just can’t forget. He’s not the person I thought he was.”
Yeah, well, neither was she. So where would that leave them someday if the truth ever came out?
Kyle’s cell went off and she was grateful for the interruption. He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the caller ID. “Speak of the devil.” He accepted the call. “Hey, man. How’s Willow?” There was a brief pause and then, “She is? When?” The relief on his face and broadening smile told her it was good news. She returned his grin and stepped closer, giving him a celebratory hug. His arm came around her back, holding her against him as he spoke. “Can I talk to her?”
A few seconds passed and he’d yet to release her. She liked the feeling of his hard-muscled body against hers. His strength made her feel safe and protected. Which was maybe why the subtle niggling of unease prickling the back of her neck caught her attention. Pen tensed. Kyle must have felt the change in her because he whispered, “You all right?” as he waited to talk to his sister. There was no way she was ruining this moment for him.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a chill.”
“It’s ninety-five degrees out here— Hey, Sleeping Beauty, ‘bout time you woke up. How are you feeling?” He chuckled at her response. “That good, huh? You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” There was another pause. “Of course we’re going to be all right. I’m sorry too. We both said shit we didn’t mean, Will. The important thing is you’re going to be okay. We’re good, don’t worry. Listen, I’m about to head into a meeting, but I’ll be over as soon as I’m done here.” He reached for the door and pulled it open for Pen to enter. “I love you too. See you in a little bit.” He disconnected the call and pocketed his cell.
Pen stepped inside and her nerves began to buzz. Maybe that was all it had been out there on the steps; a harbinger of nervous energy. But Kyle wasn’t letting it go. He caught her arm before she could get through the second set of double doors and gently guided her to the side.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
He studied her more closely than she would have liked. “I’m fine,” she told him dismissively. “Just a little nervous.” It was the truth. She was nervous, but not for the reasons he assumed. The bad memories percolating to the surface of her consciousness were making her heart race and her skin prickle with anxiety. Her hands grew clammy and she wiped them down the thighs of her jeans.
Nine years was a long time. Surely no one would remember the young teen who’d come here desperately seeking help, only to be dragged out by her mother who’d destroyed her credibility. But then who wanted to believe a state senator was raping his stepdaughter? Standing up against William Cantrel would have been career suicide for anyone who tried. It still was. The bastard was untouchable…
Kyle bent down and met her eyes. There was so much assurance there, so much confidence. What must it be like to feel that secure, that unafraid? “There’s nothing to be nervous about. The police are here to help you. They’re going to catch this asshole and get him off the streets. In the meantime, I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe—and that includes training you to protect yourself.”
She nodded and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “
I know I don’t say it enough, Kyle, but thank you for helping me.”
“Hey.” He caught her chin and tipped it up. “I’m happy to do it. Seriously. Now let’s go do this so we can get the hell out of here.” He gave her a quick kiss and then took her hand, leading her through the doors.
“Ms. Cantrel, thank you for coming in on such short notice. I’m Detective Paskel. We spoke earlier on the phone.”
They stood as the detective entered the waiting area, his hand outstretched in greeting. The man was of better than average height and sturdy build. Crow’s feet crinkled the corners of intelligent gray eyes. He carried himself with confidence, his steps determined and a little hurried. His smile seemed forced; the unpracticed upturn of his mouth gave Kyle the impression he didn’t use it often. Then again, in his line of work, he doubted the detective often had much to smile about.
Pen seemed reluctant to let go of his hand to shake the detective’s. He wasn’t sure why she seemed so nervous. Maybe being here made all this feel too real. Then again, it didn’t get more real than being locked in a closet and nearly abducted, so he didn’t quite understand the reason for her anxiety.
He released Pen’s hand and placed it at the small of her back, giving her a gentle nudge forward. The detective went through the introductions, keeping it short and sweet, then led them down the hall and into his office. A large ficus sat in the corner of the room near the window overlooking the street. Files littered his desk, the only disorder in an otherwise neat and almost too orderly office.
Kyle pulled out one of the two chairs facing the desk for Pen to sit. He took the one beside her as Detective Paskel settled in behind the large mahogany desk. “Cantrel…” he commented thoughtfully, opening and closing a few files before finding the one he was looking for. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Senator Cantrel, would you?”
From the corner of his eye, Kyle saw Pen tense. Her grip on the wood molding of the chair tightened until the beds of her fingertips blanched. When she spoke, her tone was flat, carefully measured. “He’s my stepfather.”
In for the Win (Against the Cage Book 5) Page 18