Fighting for It

by Jennifer Fusco

  “Time!” Shakes yelled. The bell rang. Both he and Mike danced out from their corners. He led with a double jab, aiming for Mike’s head and landed both, quick and sharp. As Mike backed off, recovering, he allowed his eyes to dart toward Daniella.

  She crossed her arms in front of her. Bad body language. If things in the ring didn’t get better soon, he feared Daniella might put on some gloves and headgear to take him on herself.

  His gaze returned to Mike.

  “Jack, quick, one-two-three,” Shakes called out instructions. He’d asked for Jack to throw a quick jab, followed by a right hand, then right hook to Mike, working the inside. It was a combination meant for Boom Boom when he closed in too hard, when Jack needed to back him off.

  “Mike,” Shakes screamed out, “shorten up.”

  Mike took a step closer to shorten the distance between himself and Jack. He saw what Shakes was trying to do. Should his opponent pressure him by stepping in too close, he wanted Jack to have more than one move for backing him off. He threw a right hand, but missed intentionally so he could push Mike backward with his left. An old trick.

  “Don’t push him, hit him.” Shakes’s voice raised an octave. “You can’t win against Cortez by pushing him off.” Dissatisfaction echoed in his voice, then he yelled, “Time!”

  Both fighters retreated to their corners. Jack spat his mouthpiece on the ground and yelled for Shakes to remove his headgear.

  Shakes pulled off the padding. Jack shook the sweat from his hair. “Can you please remove my tape?” Jack thrust his taped hands at his manager.

  Daniella’s eyes angled down at his fists, and she took one of his hands into hers. She began unraveling the tape. A quick shake of her head clearly showed her disappointment. “You’ve got to watch your opponent, know him. When Cortez goes to box you in, you’ve got to anticipate the move you will use to back him off.”

  He exhaled through his nostrils.

  She ripped a piece of tape from his knuckles. Her lips pursed. It looked as though with each length of tape she stripped away from his hands, the madder she got. “If you don’t start to feel it, to believe that a world championship win lies somewhere within you, we’re both wasting our time here. Head. Heart. Body. Remember?”

  So that’s what she thought. She was wasting her time. On him.

  Jesus.

  Her speech continued. “I’m not even sure what I was thinking bringing you here. I should go back to Vegas. You can finish your training with Shakes, and I can figure out another way to save the gym. Clearly I’ve put too much faith in your comeback.”

  “Give me another chance.”

  Daniella yanked off the last remaining piece of tape, ripping it from his hand, and said, “Earn it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Daniella drew back the closet door and looked around for her bag. The big red bag. The bag that was big enough to hold her entire wardrobe without turning her clothes into a wrinkled mess during the long ride home.

  Maybe, just maybe, she’d get back to Vegas in time to stop by one of those Quick-E Loan places and see if borrowing money would cost her more than an arm, leg, or first-born child.

  Daniella found the bag and lifted it out from the back of the closet. She pulled open a drawer and started to fill her luggage, but stopped short when Jack entered her room. He took up the doorway. Carrying his gear from the gym, shirtless and sweaty, he stood and stared at her for a moment while she held a fist full of underwear.

  Jack entered, eyeing her panties. “Put those back. You’re not leaving.”

  She finished shoving her underwear in the bag and moved on to T-shirts.

  His eyes fixed on the bag. “Put. That. Shit. Back.”

  “But I—”

  He walked to her side of the bed, dipped his hand in the bag, and drew out the clothing and dropped the bundle on the bed. “Put it back.”

  How dare he? How dare he manhandle her things like she belonged to him? Had he forgotten she was the boss in their situation? She held the upper hand.

  She reached for the pile of T-shirts and panties, and he closed his hand over hers. “Hear me out.”

  Heat flooded her entire body. “I don’t have time for this.”

  Acid boiled in the pit of her stomach.

  She released the clothing, but Jack didn’t move his hand from hers. Instead he stood looking down at her. “You said you wouldn’t leave.”

  “What?”

  “Back at my apartment, when I asked you how long you were going to stay. You said four weeks. You said you weren’t leaving.”

  Frustration welled inside her. “I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving Tahoe. Shakes is here. You can finish your training with him while I work on everything else.”

  He shook his head. “Put your shit back. You’re not leaving.”

  She threw a hand on her hip. “Yes, I am.”

  “No, you’re not,” he growled. “Put your shit back.” He took a step closer to her. “People matter. Words on paper don’t.”

  Jack closed the space that separated them, slid an arm around her waist, and pulled her to him. His second arm closed in around her and locked her in tight. His viselike grip lifted her onto her toes and he crushed his mouth to hers.

  His warm, wet tongue met hers and there it was. That kiss.

  Oh God. The taste of him.

  Again.

  Giving in to the sweet, honeyed goodness, she let him have her. She lifted her arms, circled his bare shoulders, and kissed him back.

  Heat radiated off his skin. So hard. So hot. And their kiss deepened.

  She kept giving and he, kissing her harder, kept taking. Their tongues entwined in a dance, forceful and needy. The feel of him pressing her close sent a heady rush straight to her brain. She absorbed the weight of his body and wanted more. So, so much more. And as much as she hated to admit it, he was right.

  People mattered.

  He mattered.

  Being in his arms, the outside world fell away. Meant nothing. Why didn’t she see it before? They could win the fight, or suffer a devastating loss. What happened didn’t matter as long as she had him. Jack.

  She couldn’t leave him.

  His mouth broke from hers and the heat of their bodies matched the needy look in his eyes.

  “You can’t leave.” The soft whisper landed in her ear.

  She swallowed hard, filling herself with the taste of him.

  “You wanted a plan. I’ve got the plan. Wait for me.”

  Then he released her, took a step back, and stalked off to the bathroom. She stood very still. Closing the door behind him, a silent pause deafened the space he put between them. Seconds later the water turned on and sounds came from the shower.

  He left her on purpose. He left her alone because if she was still there when he came out, he’d know she understood. She’d know they were in this together, and nothing was going to change that.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jack hooked the towel around his waist and ran a hand through his damp hair. He placed his hand on the doorknob and paused. No sound. Nothing coming from the other side of the door. He listened harder. He had to know if she had left, if her obsession with preserving Stamina overtook the feelings she had for him.

  And he knew she had feelings for him.

  Their kiss told him those feelings lived and breathed. They were as real as they’d been all those years ago.

  A mix of passion and hatred, comfort and unease filled both of them. The palpable tension of being in the same room together was nothing compared to fleeting loss he felt without her. The kiss showed her how he felt. But what happened next was her choice. And knowing Daniella’s drive and loyalty to her father and Stamina, she probably left as the first drop of water hit the shower floor.

  He twisted the doorknob and pulled.

  And her screams filled the bathroom.

  Panic slammed into him. His name echoed throughout the cabin. Storming out of the bathroom, he walked in the di
rection of the sound.

  Daniella called his name again.

  He found an open door and walked outside.

  She lay on her side with her leg twisted in an unnatural position. She scooted her body along, trying to pull her foot free of the broken step. He raced down to her. In seconds, he crouched down beside her, holding her leg, trying to free her foot.

  “Can you move it?”

  “Yes,” she replied, “I don’t think it’s broken.”

  He gripped her leg gently and freed her foot from the wooden step. Lifting her up, he cradled her body.

  “What are you doing out here? Were you going to leave?”

  “No,” she panted. “I was trying to take out the trash while I was waiting for you and the stair gave out when I stepped on it. I totally tripped.”

  He craned his neck to his left. A lone garbage bag had rolled a few feet away and stopped in the middle of the lawn. A few pieces of paper jutted out from the hole torn in the bag. He’d pick up the trash later.

  He climbed the steps, and walked inside the cabin.

  “I’ll drive you to the hospital,” he said, placing her down onto the sofa. Then he rolled up her jeans to take a look at the wound. A few scrapes. Swelling started. A definite sprain—he’d seen enough sprains in boxing to know. Luckily it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. At least it wasn’t broken.

  Daniella leaned up to get a look at her ankle. “Oh God.” Air rushed out of her lungs.

  Jack walked to his gear and pulled out a bottle of pain relievers. Then he got a glass of water and took the pills to her. “Take two of these.”

  She slugged back the ibuprofen and washed it down. “Thank you.”

  He left the room again, grabbed the pillows from her bed, and returned to her side. Placing one pillow under her foot, elevating the sprain, he said, “I’ll call Shakes. He probably has compression wrap in his bag. We’ll bandage the ankle and then I’ll drive you to the hospital, if you want.”

  “No hospitals.” She fixed her gaze on her foot, and shook her head. “That was stupid.”

  “Wasn’t stupid,” he said flatly. “The step broke. You slipped. Looks like the board rotted.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “I should’ve just waited.”

  He grinned. “Did you hit your head with that fall?”

  She returned his grin, then averted her eyes to the floor. “No, I mean, you said you had a plan, but I had too much nervous energy to sit around and wait.”

  He stuffed the second pillow behind her back. Then he moved to the kitchen.

  From behind him, her voice carried through the cabin. “I mean, would it have killed me to hang out for ten minutes until you finished your shower?”

  He took a bag from the freezer and returned to her side. “I’ll tell Shakes to bring the ice packs, along with the wrap. Till then peas will have to do.”

  Positioning the bag on her ankle, she winced.

  “Be back in a sec,” he told her.

  Walking to his room, he rifled around until he found his phone to call Shakes. A text message from Misty lit up the screen.

  What R U doin’ tonight? Call me.

  He deleted the message, dressed quickly in a T-shirt and a pair of shorts he grabbed off the floor, and dialed Shakes’s number.

  After the call, he returned to Daniella and found her sunken into the pillow, eyes closed.

  He started to turn around and head to his room. Then she said, “Wait.”

  Jack moved to her side.

  Her eyes opened. “I was just resting.”

  “Shakes is on his way. Need anything?”

  She nodded. “Tell me about your plan.”

  “I will. Rest first.”

  She shook her head, then looked into his eyes. “Sit down.” She raised her body up and nodded her head to indicate she wanted him to sit behind her. He did.

  Moving the pillow to his lap, she laid her head on his thigh.

  He lifted his hand and smoothed her hair away from her face.

  Looking up at him, she said, “When you started boxing, did you ever think about how your career would end?”

  He shook his head. “No. Just figured I’d be world champion and go out on top.”

  “You still can, you know?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “I think about things differently now without R. L.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He let out a long exhale, and allowed his gaze to angle down and meet hers. “It used to be that I wanted to win a world championship title for the money, the fame, and the women that go along with it.”

  “And now?”

  He stared straight ahead. “Now I want to win to make him proud. To make you proud. At the end of it, I want to still be able to think straight and walk straight, and that’ll be good enough for me. I don’t want to condone what he did. He should’ve never placed a bet on my fight.”

  “He must’ve been feeling awfully desperate.”

  Jack nodded. “I think he was. All I want to do is honor what he built, and protect what was almost destroyed.”

  “So this plan of yours. Let me hear it.”

  He drew out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “It’s a list of everything Stamina can offer that’ll bring in additional revenue.”

  He followed along as her eyes scanned the page.

  Boxing classes.

  Personal training.

  Kickboxing workouts.

  Fitness consultation.

  Amateur night.

  Youth boxing lessons.

  Summer camps.

  Endurance strengthening.

  Sports therapy sessions.

  Daniella’s torso lifted from the pillow. “These are some really great ideas. When did you do this?”

  Jack placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back to him. “The second you told me you were giving up. The ideas just started flowing in. Guess desperate times call for desperate measures, huh? We can get some of these classes started right away. After the Cortez fight, I can teach most of them. The sports therapy sessions, well, I’m hoping you will . . .”

  Her mouth fell open. “Jack, this is brilliant.”

  He averted his eyes to the top of the page. “It’s a start.”

  “It’s awesome.”

  “The guys won’t be able to quit their day jobs for a while. But if this goes to plan and the classes get bigger, maybe they can in a year or so. It’s to our advantage if we can leverage one of the sports reports for the Las Vegas Times to give us a good endorsement.”

  “Dad would’ve loved your ideas.”

  “There’s something else.”

  “There’s more?” Daniella craned her neck to look at him.

  “I want you to schedule fights for me after Cortez. Prepare me in the ring, not for Cortez, but for the fight that comes after. Cortez is going to be my stepping stone to the world championship.” He braced himself for her reaction.

  She studied him for a moment. Then tears clouded her eyes, and her kissable mouth dropped open. Shock. Yes, she was in definite shock. She didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. Just gawked at him, speechless.

  He didn’t think he’d ever spoken truer words in his life. No doubt she needed time to process.

  With a slight movement of her arm, she raised her hand, curling her fingertips around the back of his neck, and brought him to her.

  She crushed her lips to his.

  His mouth filled with the flavor of her. She tasted sweet. Delicious. He was starving for more. As awkward as their position was, it was one of the hottest kisses they’d ever shared. He placed a palm on the back of her neck. Heat radiated from her. She shivered under his touch. He blocked out everything around them, just kissing her as his mind shut down. He focused on Daniella.

  Nothing, not even the world championship, meant shit without her.

  He moved closer to her, pressing harder onto her mouth. Their tongues moved in time together. Dancin
g. Swirling. He knew this was a moment he’d savor. Lying in his bed alone at night, remembering this kiss would help keep him warm.

  She kissed him harder, impatient and needy. A surge of want and need took over his body. It was all he could do not to carry her to the bedroom. He knew it would take more than a few words to get Daniella into bed. He had to show her his commitment. He’d show her. He promised himself.

  With a slight moan, she broke off their kiss and pulled away from him, licking her lips as if to enjoy a final taste.

  “I never thought I’d hear you say it,” she said, pressing a hand against her flushed cheek. “I never thought I’d hear you say you wanted anything past the Cortez fight.”

  He eyed her, brows raised. “I don’t want any regrets.”

  “Do you have any regrets?”

  He gave a decisive nod. “More than I can tell you.”

  A knock rapped on the cabin door.

  “That’s Shakes.” Jack gently moved Daniella’s body. She sat up, and turned her head toward the knocking.

  Jack opened the door. Shakes walked in. “Dani, what happened?”

  “The step broke.”

  After a few quick glides, Shakes was doctoring Daniella’s foot. He asked for scissors, and Jack found a pair in the kitchen. He made quick work of wrapping her ankle. Years of doing so showed off his proficiency at being the best corner man in Vegas.

  Shakes inspected his work. “Rest your foot a day or so. Keep the area iced. Take the ibuprofen to stay ahead of the pain.”

  “Thanks, Shakes.”

  He grinned. “Oh, and one more thing: make Jack wait on you hand and foot. Make him treat you like the princess you are.” He patted her leg.

  She laughed. “Consider it done.”

  He rolled the remaining wrap into a coil and gave it to Jack. “I’ll meet you in the morning at four.”

  “See you then,” Jack said, showing him out.

  Once Shakes was out of the cabin, he closed the door and turned to Daniella. “So,” he called to her, “what do princesses eat for dinner?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The sunlight streamed into Daniella’s window the next morning and touched her pillow. Its golden finger stretched across her bed and lit up the room. So far she’d been awake for an hour and managed to resist the temptation to get out of bed and check up on Jack’s training. If he wanted to be the next world champion, and committed to it, there had to be some trust on her part that’d he’d live up to his commitments, adhere to his training schedule, and obey his diet. Part of her didn’t want to know if he was still roaming about the cabin. She didn’t want to know if words were just empty words said in a moment of connection. But the other part of her, the one that intimately knew Jack, believed he’d stand by his word.