by Hart, Taylor
Ana didn’t know the rules for this kind of fighting, but she did know that Brooks, who sparred in the gym with UFC fighters regularly, could handle Ken. They were matched in height. Ken did look better physically than when she’d last seen him, but Brooks was clearly in superior shape.
Her heart was caught in her throat. She could hardly keep her balance, and she gripped one of the bars by the cage. The crowd was loud, louder than any concert she’d ever been to.
A girl with teased red hair, black stilettos, and a red swimsuit walked out and held a card with the number one on it. When she left the stage, a man wearing a whistle and a referee shirt took her place.
Brooks and Ken put their fists in the center, unmoving, until a buzzer went off. Immediately, Brooks jabbed at Ken’s face. Ken pounced back, dancing around like a boxer for a second, eyes narrowed. Brooks circled him too, but his movements weren’t just light; they were more calculated.
Ana watched them both, noting the differences in them. Ken was wiry and tight. His movements were full of anger. Not Brooks, though: he was light and languid, completely focused. She wondered if this was what his face would look like on the field if she could see it under the helmet. He was completely oblivious to the crowd; being a professional athlete gave him that advantage.
Something stirred within her. When she’d seen him shirtless the other night, she’d seen up close and personal how cut he was. But now, she could openly admire it.
Suddenly moving toward the side of the cage, Ken took two steps at a time. The metal clanged as he ran up the cage. Then he jumped through the air toward Brooks, getting in a punch. Brooks fell, but then popped back up.
Worry filled her. She couldn’t let Brooks do this. “Stop!” she tried to yell, but her efforts were fruitless.
Without warning, Brooks did a roundhouse kick and landed it right in Ken’s gut. He, too, fell and popped back up.
Loud, crazy heavy metal music filled the warehouse. Ana held her hands over her ears. She wanted to close her eyes, too, but she couldn’t look away. She could only keep her grip on the bar, feeling sick to her stomach.
The men who’d taken the bets stood next to her. The glasses guy shouted, “Wow, who is this rookie? He might be better than Given. I thought Given would crush him tonight, but it looks like he’s well matched.”
Ken took a couple of well-placed punches. He landed one, but then Brooks bent his head and leaned down, taking Ken over his shoulder and body-slamming him onto the ground.
Ana could swear she heard Ken’s back cracking. For a sliver of a second, she worried about Ken.
But both of them got up. The wig was still on Brooks’s head. Ana worried it would fall off, and he would be recognized. She did worry about his image, and she knew Brooks wasn’t the kind to tell the world what he was doing was for someone else.
That had been his whole PR problem, she realized. He wouldn’t tell everyone about his life. He didn’t live for the press. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized Brooks was exactly what he said he was—all about getting the ball down the field. He was a man of action.
Ken got in another punch, and then Brooks took him into a headlock before putting him down onto his back again. Ken sprang up in one motion, but Brooks pushed him back down.
Obviously the rules for cage fighting were different from boxing. She’d purposely never found out much about it all. Ken hadn’t done it on the up and up. No, he’d always done it for drugs. She burned inside about that.
Out of nowhere, Brooks did the same running move that Ken had done earlier. When he had Ken pinned down, he stayed there.
The crowd started calling out numbers, counting back from ten. When the referee pulled Brooks from Ken, his wig fell off. Gasps rose from the crowd.
But Brooks was already moving forward, helping Ken stand and then pulling him off the stage.
Chapter 16
Brooks paced back and forth in the makeshift room that Ken used as a dressing room. He knew he would have a few bruises tomorrow, but that didn’t bother him. Ken hadn’t been able to land any really good punches, and Brooks had the advantage of a martial arts trainer and a boxing trainer. The fight could have been over sooner, but Brooks hadn’t minded getting in a few more hits. In fact, he’d enjoyed it.
For the past five minutes, he’d listened to Ken cuss and moan and yell at Ana. He was about to put another fist in his face if he didn’t shut up. In Brooks’s mind, Ken was the lowest kind of person—the kind that abandoned his family. Yes, it did strike a chord with Brooks, but more than that, he was part of this. He wasn’t on the outside of the situation looking in. He was in.
“Shut up, Ken,” he said quietly, moving in front of Ana.
Ana held out the release form. “If you sign this, I won’t ever bother you again.”
Holding one hand over an eye, Ken turned to Brooks. He cursed. “Do you know how long I’ve been training for this fight? Do you know what I gave up for that fight?” He sputtered. “You don’t even need the money.”
Ana took a step closer to Ken. “Sign, and we’ll go.”
Ken closed his eyes. “How is Callie?”
Brooks watched the emotions play across Ana’s face. Then her lips pinched together. “Sign the paper, Ken.”
He pulled his hand back from his eye, the bruise darkening. “I deserve to know how my daughter is.”
Ana hesitated for a second, and Brooks saw her hand curl into a fist. Then she let a derisive laugh escape. “That’s good, Ken. Go ahead, tell yourself you deserve to know anything about the daughter you abandoned.”
The side of Ken’s lip lifted in a snarl. He glanced at Brooks and then back to Ana, taking the paper from her. “What is this?”
Ana crossed her arms. “A release form, Ken. It says you’re fine if she goes out of the country.”
“Is she going to live?” he asked.
Ana released a long breath. “She’ll live.”
“Where are you going?”
Ana took one of the boxing magazines off a stack, put the paper on top, and held it out to him. “Just sign it.” Her voice was softer. “Please.”
Frowning, he ignored the paper and turned to Brooks. “What are you doing with her?”
Brooks wanted to take him and throw him down to the ground again. “Sign the dang paper, Ken.”
Ken held his gaze. He laughed. “I always told everyone that I knew you. I guess it’s not really a good time for a selfie, so I can prove it.”
Brooks couldn’t believe the idiocy of this guy he used to call a friend. When he and Ken had been roommates, he’d never cared about of all his bad habits. He didn’t have the luxury of caring about stuff like that then; he’d had no choices in his life, so he had taken what he could get. But he hadn’t thought Ken was this bad.
Then he had an idea. “How much were you supposed to make on this fight?”
Ken’s eyes flashed to Ana and then back to Brooks. “You want me to sign it for money?” He pointed to the paper. “I’m sure signing that paper is giving up every right I have to my daughter.”
“You better believe it is,” Ana growled, tears in her eyes. Blinking them back, she turned to Brooks. “I’ll pay him.”
Brooks knew she couldn’t pay him, and he realized he would give a lot more than any darn fight money to get Callie the help she needed. He’d been sunk the minute Callie’s hand had shaken his, and she’d looked up at him like he was some kind of hero. He shook his head, realizing that Ana had been right. He did like the feeling of someone needing him, of helping someone else. He wouldn’t call it a hero complex, but it was a good thing Ken didn’t know how much Brooks really would give up to get him to sign the paper.
“I was getting paid more than five grand if I won. And I was supposed to win.”
Brooks knew he was lying, but he didn’t care. “Sign the paper, Ken.” Brooks pulled out his money clip.
“No,” Ana protested.
Brooks met her eyes and shook
his head. Don’t do this.
She stopped protesting and blinked even more.
Brooks opened up the bills and began counting. When he got to twenty-five hundred, he handed it over. “Come with us and you can have whatever winnings they would have given me.”
“Fine.” Ken moved to a bag and picked it up. “I’ll sign it when I collect the rest of the money.”
As they walked out of the dressing room, Brooks wasn’t surprised to see a crowd had gathered, all their phones out, wanting to catch a glimpse of him. Much to his annoyance, Ken pulled him in close and grinned as the cameras clicked.
Ken laughed. “This is great. Now people will want to fight me because they know we’re pals.”
Brooks took Ana’s hand and put a hand on Ken’s back, keeping himself together.
Ken led them back to the two guys that had been collecting money earlier. “Hey, Ernie and Troy,” he said.
The two men focused on Brooks. “Mr. Stone,” the gold-toothed man said, “if we had known it was you, we would have taken more care to advertise.”
Brooks ignored them. He put his hand out. “I need my payout.”
“Well, you haven’t signed the appropriate paperwork,” the glasses guy said.
Brooks didn’t need the money, but he needed Ken to sign. “Hand it over, or I’ll make it my business to ruin the little scheme you have going on here.” Throwing his weight around wasn’t something Brooks liked to do, but he would if he had to.
“Yeah,” Ken said. “My friend here will make it his business.”
The gold-toothed guy frowned and then counted out three thousand dollars.
“Hey, that’s not near enough.” Ken plucked it right out of Brooks’s hand.
But Brooks had had quite enough. He dragged Ken toward the bar by the back of his neck, and leaned into him. “Sign the paper, Ken, or I’ll make it my business to ruin you.”
Brooks let him go. Ken glared at him.
Ana was fast. She slid the paper and pen onto the bar.
Turning, Ken picked up the pen and finally signed the paper. He turned back to Ana. “I am sorry.”
Brooks swept up the paper and took Ana’s hand before she could say anything back.
Chapter 17
It was nearly midnight, and Ana sat on the unusually soft hotel bed. Her head was wrapped in a towel, and she wore her yoga clothes. She stared at the signature she’d been trying to get for the past three months. Relieved tears streamed down her face. Now she could finally get her daughter the care she needed. Now she could finally get her to Brazil.
They’d gotten back forty minutes ago, and she’d immediately gone straight to the tub. She’d relished the stolen moments in the tub with the hot water and the complete bliss of having everything else blocked out in her mind. Now, as she sat on the bed, staring at the signature, all she could think about was Brooks. The way he’d volunteered to fight without a thought for himself. The fact that he’d brought her here.
She thought of watching him fight. He’d been graceful. Calculated. Ken was more of a street fighter, with quick and brutal hits. Brooks was precise and effective.
Her face got warm as she thought about his chest. His arms. The way he’d held her earlier at the beach. How he was completely different from anything she would have guessed.
Hearing something from his room, she got off the bed and grabbed her key card. She had to talk to him.
After three quiet knocks, he answered. Seeing her tears, he simply pulled her in before she said anything.
He wore a black T-shirt and sweats. He’d showered, and the smell of the hotel soap lingered. His hair wasn’t styled into its normal messy gelled state, and he looked vulnerable. One of his eyes was black.
“Oh my gosh, you need ice.” She cringed and searched for the ice bucket. Unlike the other day, when the door had hit him in the face and she’d completely ignored his pain, all she wanted to do was take his pain away. It made her angry with herself that she’d treated him that way. He wasn’t some invincible football star. He was kind, caring, strong, amazing … She blinked away more tears.
He moved to the small kitchenette, where he held up the bucket. “Just got some. Want some water?” He bent down and opened the fridge, pulling out two water bottles.
But she was already searching for something to put the ice in, ignoring the way his room was charged with attraction. It twisted and pulled between them. She couldn’t brush it off her skin, because it went right through her. “I’m so sorry to drag you into this.” Frantically, she scanned the kitchenette area. “Let’s find some bags or something.” Turning back to him, she studied the bruises swelling around his eye and on his lip.
Brooks moved toward her, reaching past her and picking up some bags. “I went to the front desk, and they gave me some of these.”
Ana took one and started filling it with ice. She carefully zipped it and grabbed another one out of Brooks’ hand, repeating the process.
“I’m fine.” His voice was soft. As she turned back to him, the side of his lip tugged up. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
She fetched a washcloth from the bathroom, wrapped it around the ice pack, and gently placed it against his eye. His fresh scent and the smell of aftershave wafted around her. “You need someone to worry about you. You know your PR team is going to be having a fit about all those pictures that I’m sure are circling on your social media.”
Reaching up, he put his hand over hers. “I don’t care about my image.” His eyes were on her lips.
Her heart rate kicked up a notch. She in turn gazed at his lips, wondering how it would feel to kiss him, wondering if he would be as graceful kissing as he was fighting.
They both stood there, not moving. Her hand was on the ice pack, and his hand was on hers.
He grinned. “Your track record for picking men sucks.”
Completely taken off guard, Ana laughed. Her tension melted.
Then she felt his hand on her hip, gently pulling her closer to him. “Do you want me to kiss you, Ana?”
Everything inside of her screamed yes. Yes, because he took her little girl to dinner. Yes, because he came with her to California. And yes, because he fought for her—for them. She leaned up, getting on her tiptoes. “I probably won’t be good for your image, either.”
His lips met hers. They both dropped the ice packs, and she felt herself reaching behind his neck, pulling him into her. Both of his hands were around her waist, and she knew at this moment that Brooks Stone was more than just graceful—he had finesse.
Moving kisses down her jawline, stroking her hair with a gentle hand, he whispered in her ear. “I knew I never wanted to be just friends with you.”
Startled, she laughed.
He grinned and then quickly kissed her cheek. “I didn’t.”
Letting herself enjoy this moment for a second, she closed her eyes and let him kiss her again. Let him deepen the kiss.
But it wasn’t long before she pulled back from him, her heart racing. She gently touched his eye. “You need to get ice on those bruises.”
But his arms were around her, pulling her closer. “I’m tough.”
She laughed again, not wanting to admit how attracted she was to him.
He deepened the kiss, and her already elevated heart rate jumped even higher. She let herself run her hands over his broad shoulders and down his abs. He groaned and tangled his hands in her wet hair.
Gently pushing him back, she sighed. She hated that she had to put down boundaries, but she did. “Brooks, I can’t do this.”
Keeping his arms around her, he frowned. “Do what?”
Actually, she didn’t know what exactly he wanted. To just kiss her? Something more? Her eyes drifted to the bed.
His arms tightened, pulling her closer. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“What?”
She thought she saw him blush, and he grinned down at her, then hesitated for a few seconds. “I don’t want … that.”
He laughed again. “Not like this. I …” He focused his beautiful blue eyes on her. It felt like they were connected, like their souls had connected. “You’re not like the women I’ve been around. You’re—”
“Stubborn,” she filled in softly.
He grinned. “Yes.”
“Asinine.”
He paused and then smiled wider. “Extremely.” His next kiss was soft.
She put up a finger. “Don’t forget incredibly irritating.”
Tilting his head to the side, he gave her a pointed look. “Well, that just goes without saying.”
Warmth filled her, and she thought about Callie. “But we got the signature.”
His smile matched hers. “Yes, we did.”
“Thanks to you.” There was no way to explain how much she appreciated him at this moment.
Pushing her back, he let go of her. “That’s why we’re waiting on this.” He motioned between them. “Whatever this is can wait until after you get things squared away with Callie.”
... He didn’t want her?
Putting his hands on her shoulders, he held her. “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t do this. Whatever had started between them, she was too vulnerable. She was a mother. She had a daughter that needed her. He was a distraction. “Thank you for everything, but … I have to go.”
He was already in front of her, too fast for her. He blocked the door. “Oh no, you’re not walking away from me. Explain what just happened with you. What just made you turn away from me?”
Her emotions were too close to the surface. She shook her head and bit her lip. “You don’t need this in your life.”
His face clouded. “What are you talking about?”
Before she could stop them, the words came out. “It’s fine to help with all of this, but you don’t want to be too involved in case something crappy happens, right?”