No Holds (The Fighter Series Book 4)

by TC Matson

  Chapter 6

  Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and rush out of the bathroom for my ringing ass phone dripping wet. Sarah’s name lights up my display, but I know it’s not her.

  “RyRy!” Gracie squeals in my ear.

  “Poohbear!”

  “Mommy’s making dinner and I want you to come. So now you have to come.”

  I smile at her demands. “I do? What if I don’t want to?” I tease.

  “’Member that thing you taught me? When a mean person is being mean I kick them in their bad parts?”

  “You wouldn’t?” I feign hurt feelings.

  In the background, Sarah fusses at her. “Mommy said I’m not allowed to do it. But just come. Please,” she begs in her sweet voice that I’m a damn sucker for.

  “How can I say no to that?” I ask.

  “You can’t.” She giggles. “Mommy’s making…hold on. Mommy what are you making?” There’s a pause as Sarah answers her. “Mommy’s making chicken parmzon.”

  “Well, count me there.”

  “Six sharp. Don’t be late,” her tone sharpens.

  “You’ve been practicing?”

  “Yep. Confident and asshurtive,” she says proudly.

  I belt out a laugh. “As-sert-ive, Poohbear. Assertive.”

  “Yes, that. Wuv you whole bunches,” she says our endearments we refuse to let go. The one we’ve said to each other since she first started talking. The same one that cramps my heart.

  “Wuv you, Poohbear.”

  I hang up and head to my closet to get dressed since my plans have changed. Not that I’m complaining. I wasn’t going to do a damn thing but sit on the couch and relax. Boring, I know.

  I step into my pants, shrug into a navy-blue shirt, and then head back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

  My phone rings again. This time it’s Matt.

  “Pussy whipped? What’s going on?” I answer teasing him.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Funny how your eyes are so blue, yet they’re covered in green,” he quips. “When are you coming back to my side of town?”

  I watch myself in the mirror as I run some fiber paste through my hair to spike it. “Not sure. Question is when are you coming my way?”

  “I’d have to talk to Holly. I doubt she’d be keen to crash at your place, so we’d have to get a hotel.”

  “I can set all that up, you know?”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  There’s a displacement in his tone that catches my attention and I stop fucking with my hair. “You good?”

  He takes a deep breath. “Man, I’m fucking homesick or something. I sound like a pathetic bitch, but I’m missing the Hayes brothers.”

  I stifle a laugh, sitting on the side of the bed and slide into my shoes. “You don’t have to sound like one. Holly’s got you all sensitive these days.”

  “It’s what happens when you’ve got the right one. One day you’ll learn all about it.” He chuckles devilishly. “We need to plan something…soon. Even if she stays back, we’ll get together. When’s your fight with Fischer? Few weeks, right?”

  “Yeah, man. And I’m fucking ready to get back in there. Dude’s been talking too much shit and I need to fix that.”

  I grab my keys from the dresser and shove my wallet in my back pocket.

  “Word on the street is he’s supposedly going to get rid of you for good. Is it true if you lose this one, you’re out?”

  I loathe knowing where he gets information. “Yeah. The next three are like that. But don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. It won’t be happening.”

  “It better not. The sport needs the Striker,” he boasts. “Look, I’ve got to hop off here. I’m about to take Holly out for dinner.”

  “Whipped,” I sing with a laugh.

  “When you find your happiness, I’ll sing you the same fucking song, dickhead.”

  I’m laughing when I hang up. Half of me is pissed that my boy I’ve known since grade school, who watched the start of my fighting journey and supported me all the way, is no longer here and is now getting all his information from Holly’s best friend, Paige. I refuse to think any differently, hoping his bond hasn’t shifted sides.

  Paige is Levi’s girl. He’s the one fight I’ve lost. The enemy. The rival.

  Therefore, any facts Matt is receiving are coming from him and it sears me to know it. Levi and I aren’t in good graces. We’ve despised each other from the get go. My hatred is fueled by his enmity of me. All of it was started by him. He couldn’t stand to know someone was equally as good as him and was ranking up the charts. He couldn’t handle someone else was just as good and was undefeated as he was. He wanted that title—undefeated—yet I owned it as well.

  Unfortunately, I fucked up. Royally. I played a game of conspirator and blew it.

  See, Levi and Paige split up. He couldn’t resist the urge we all know runs deeply inside of him and he cheated on her. He’s an idiot. Paige is smart, ambitious, driven, sassy as hell, and true to herself, and he lost her. I stood to profit the gain. It wasn’t premeditated as some of you think. Actually, it was very much the opposite. When I visited Matt, I never thought I’d see her again, let alone right beside my boy’s girlfriend. True, I enjoyed egging on Levi in the past. I’d intentionally flirt around with Paige just to rile the hothead up, but when I saw her again, my intentions were only to befriend her in hopes to provoke Levi’s emotions to get involved in our fight.

  I forced my way into her life and over the course of time, developed a fondness for her even though I knew she wasn’t over Levi. I eventually let my dick do my thinking and crossed a line by kissing her. In the very same moment, I watched her run away from me with the wound I reopened.

  I never dreamed the headstrong girl I learned about would give the undeserving douchebag a second chance. She did.

  And it pissed me off, but not how everyone thinks. She’s a good girl. She should’ve been smarter than that.

  I knew Levi had no idea what transpired between Paige and me, but I made sure he did. That’s where the game changed. I put on a persona, a façade that resembled nothing of me. Yes, I can be stone-cold. I can appear to be the biggest heartless asshole ever, but I’m not, even though I got a thrill from watching fire drip from his eyes. Which turned into my personal game and focus of getting under his skin.

  I’m a confident bastard, so I knew I had the fight. I could taste the pros and see my name on the contract. This fight, in my head, was already won and by me. I dominated the rounds. Levi was getting gassed out and all I had to do was be patient—something I fucking am not. We traded blows, intense anger and determination-filled punches and kicks. We both were bloodied, busted up, and set to win. Until my ingenious idea back-fucking-fired and blew up all over my face.

  I was knocked out…cold.

  My chances of the professionals eroded by the blackness.

  I lost.

  He won.

  And I deserved what I got.

  I park my truck in Jackson and Sarah’s driveway and make my way to the side entrance. As I step into the kitchen, I’m almost brought to my knees by the aroma of dinner. It reminds me of coming home after school, or a hard day of training and having the scent of Mom’s cooking fill the entire house.

  “Hey, Ryker,” Sarah says pulling bread from the oven. “Jackson’s in his office and Gracie’s playing in her room.”

  I bend and kiss her on the cheek. “I don’t know what he pays you, but I’m willing to double it if you’ll come and cook like this for me three times a week.”

  She giggles softly, her eyes lighting up from the compliment. She blows loose strands of hair from her face. She’s a beautiful woman, always has been. With round hazel eyes, long straight hair, and an hourglass figure, she hasn’t aged a bit since her high-school days.

  “Your brother will murder you one day if you keep offering to steal me away.” She tries saying it without humor, but she’s incapable and ends it with ano
ther giggle.

  I dismiss the thought with a flick of my hand. “I’m not worried about him.”

  “Go tell them it’s dinner time.”

  I make my way up the grand-fucking-stairs in his grand-fucking-house and come to his office first. Lightly I knock on the door but don’t wait for a response. I just stick my head in. Jackson’s sitting at his desk concentrating on the computer screen. He’s older, more slender, yet just as big as we all are.

  “The wife says it’s supper time,” I tell him.

  He jerks his gaze from the screen and smiles arrogantly. “She sent her minion, huh?”

  “She sent the man of the house to herd the cattle,” I jest.

  He laughs before glancing back at the screen. “These numbers are unreal. We doubled profit last year and we’re gaining speed this year.”

  “If anyone could pull a junk, rundown casino from the claws of shit and turn it into something, it would be you.”

  He arches his brow—the same one as me. “Took some hard work. I’ve got big plans for this year. This is going to be a spectacle of a year, Ryker. I mean it.”

  “You always—”

  Suddenly, Gracie comes bounding down the hall and screams out my name before slamming into me. She leaps onto me and I catch her, pretending to stumble backward and then fall to the ground.

  “Ha!” She shoves my chest sitting on my stomach all proud and shit. “I snuck up on you and got you!”

  “Poohbear, you screamed at me. How’s that sneaking up on someone?” I laugh.

  She looks around before smiling wider. “I had to give you a warning.”

  I wrap my arm around her tiny waist and twist, putting her body underneath me. She bucks and laughs her little squeal while she kicks and tries punching me with her mini versions of fists. I taught her many things because I plan on making her tough as nails so when she starts dating, I won’t be trailing them to make sure the shitheads are treating her well. I’ll know she’ll be able to take care of herself.

  A clearing of the throat ceases my play and I look up to a playful crooked smile. Sarah’s short frame towers over us with her arms crossed.

  “Shh,” I whisper to Gracie. “If we pretend not to be here, maybe she’ll leave.”

  Gracie giggles loudly. “Unk Ry?”

  “You’re giving away our location. Shhhh.” I keep my eyes on Sarah and my mouth still.

  “But Unk Ry?” her plea comes with more urgency.

  “What?” I whisper, unmoving.

  “I’m hungry.” She wiggles out from under my arms but I remain solid as stone. She squeezes my cheeks and rolls her eyes. “You’re not frozen. Only Elsa can freeze people, but Mommy plays Elsa sometimes.”

  I slowly slide my view to Gracie and part my mouth just wide enough to mumble the words, “But she isn’t as pretty as Elsa. Is she?”

  Sarah jams her heel into my shoulder and shoves me. “You’re such an ah—”

  “Swear jar!” Gracie calls out.

  I stand and wink at Sarah. “Pretty bad you have to pay to touch me. I’ll offer a free session if you’d like.”

  I turn back to poke my head into Jackson’s office and run smack dab into him.

  That damn brow is raised as he eyes me with a pissy laughing gaze. “Why would she touch you when she has me?” A smug smirk creeps across his lips. “I’m the better brother anyway.”

  I straighten my back and puff out my chest. “You’re the old one. Old news, my friend.”

  His hard expression softens trying to hide his laughter. “Kyce is the baby, which makes you…” He taps his chin. “Old news too?”

  “Ha. It’s like the three little bears. You’re too old. Kyce is too young and I am just right.”

  I’m grinning like a bastard when I scoop Gracie up and head down the stairs to the dining room.

  “If you’re just right, why is she married to me?” Jackson calls down the stairs behind me.

  “We’ve all wondered the same thing.” I place Grace down at the table and consider Jackson. “I think you’ve brainwashed her because there’s no way she’s that stupid for this long.”

  “Hey. I resent that,” Sarah says pausing to pull the plates from the cabinet.

  “Take it as a compliment, Sleeping Beauty.”

  Gracie. All these fairy tales, princesses, nursery rhymes, and girly stories are all her fault. Am I ashamed of it? Not a bit. I’m not afraid to put on a tiara and kick ass.

  We’ve made our plates, said blessing and have just begun eating when Gracie glances at me. “You have a fight coming?”

  I just shoved a piece of chicken in my mouth and knowing I’ll get scolded for talking with food in my mouth, I nod.

  She frowns. “Means you’re gonna be gone a lot again.”

  I swallow. “Nah. Not yet. Maybe not anymore. I’ll only be gone a few days at a time.”

  Her frown only deepens. “You need to get a job closer to here.”

  I lean and kiss her cheek. “Then I wouldn’t enjoy my job, Pooh.”

  Jackson clears his throat and knowing what’s about to be said, I reluctantly slide my eyes to him. “You know anytime you want a job closer to home, you have it with me.”

  Since opening Mirages, Jackson’s been after me to work for him. I’ve helped him out here and there, when I have nothing else better to do in my spare time, but I’m not willing to be on his payroll and having to answer to his shithead head of security. That man gives off a malevolent vibe.

  I set my jaw, purging all playful banter and pouring dead seriousness into my expression. “I’m not working with Smith.”

  “You have the wrong idea about him. He’s a good, dedicated employee. He’s installed high-tech security measures and ensures the security of—”

  I twirl my fork. “Blah. Blah. Blah. Put him on whatever pedestal you prefer. He’s shady as hell and you’ll never convince me of anything less. One day you’ll see it. You’ll know I’m right, just as I always am.”

  Jackson’s left eye begins to tick—his telltale sign he’s beginning to get frustrated.

  I point at it with my fork. “You need to get that under control, dude. It shows your weakness and brags about how much of a bi—pansy you are.”

  I love lighting his fuse.

  “You won’t say that as I’m kicking your ass across this town.”

  “Daddy,” Gracie warns.

  I’m quite amused. “When’s the last time you tried? Maybe we should have a refresher course. See if your old ass still has it.” I mirror his shit-eating smirk.

  “Dollar.” Gracie points to the jar on the kitchen counter, crammed with money. Mostly mine.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask if you’d like to have dessert. You two will turn it into an eating contest,” Sarah says.

  I sit back and rub my stomach. “I’m already eating way outside of my diet.”

  “If you had a job with me, you could eat what you wanted to,” Jackson says.

  “I’m onto your little plan.” I sit up, folding my hands on the table and leaning toward him. “You’re trying to fatten me up. Eliminate the sexier competition.”

  He bursts out in a boisterous laugh. “Who has the beautiful wife?”

  “I can’t help she didn’t find me first,” I jest.

  “Now, now, boys. No need to fight over me. I went with first come first serve,” Sarah deadpans.

  Jackson’s eyes bug out and his mouth falls to a goofy grin. “Oh. That was dirty.”

  We all laugh, including Gracie, as Sarah sashays away from the table in a victorious dance. She’s perfect for Jackson. Keeps his head straight but can play the same games as him.

  Chapter 7

  I’m roughing up a little squirt of a sparring partner. He wrestled his way through high school and took kickboxing as a hobby—thus spawning his reasoning that he’s an eligible sparring partner. Unfortunately, he weighs half what I do and his reach is much shorter. By the time he swings, I’m a fleeting memory standing at his side wai
ting for him to take notice.

  He rushes me, trying to take my back to the mat, but I take a step to the side and his knees fall to the ground.

  “Why’d you pick him?” I grumble to Daniel.

  “If you’d get your damn ego off your fucking shoulders, you’d see he’s quick and wiry. Fischer is the same and he loves ground play. Get down on the mat with him,” he reprimands, nodding for me to get back to work with Squirt.

  “If Fischer can’t get me to the ground, I don’t need to be there.” I’m more dismissive than frustrated, but the two emotions weave together causing me to sound harsher.

  Daniel runs both his hands through his shaggy brown hair and takes a shaky exasperated breath. “If you don’t prepare and train for the unseen, you won’t know how to handle it when it happens.” His jaw is locked tightly gritting out the words. “It’s called training for a reason, Ryker. I sure as hell didn’t sign up to leave my fiancée for weeks just to hear you bitch and moan.”

  “Don’t you think you’ve trained me well enough to know how to handle all situations?”

  I may or may not have said that extremely smartassed.

  He glares at me, unhappy at my loving display of fuck this bullshit. He’s been in my corner for five years, dealing with my shit. I admire him for it because I know my attitude can be shit at times, and it makes me difficult. His stare doesn’t falter as irritation looms on the surface…clearly.

  I exhale, standing down from the argument. Bending, I glower at Squirt. “Try it again.”

  Squirt stands and shakes his arms out. He zeroes in on me and then rushes back into me, wrapping his arms around my waist, shoving and pulling at the same time. I allow him to take me to the mat. Problem is—Squirt leaves himself wide open all the time and right now, he’s vulnerable. I can’t help it. It’s what I’ve been trained for. Grabbing ahold of his arm, I lock my legs around it and stretch hard. Instantly he screams and slaps my leg and the mat with his free hand.

  I let go.

  Daniel’s eyebrows are furrowed, aggravation curling his lips. He sighs. “At least the damn day is over.”