Fighting for It

by Jennifer Fusco

  “Well, you look like you could kick some ass.”

  She smiled. “So do you.” And he did. Shirtless, he stood before her in his boxing trunks. His robe draped from his shoulders, exposing his sculpted chest. Jack was two hundred and ten pounds of rock-hard muscle. Fit. Primed. And ready. Tilting his chin upward, shoulders back, he walked with a swagger, the gait of a champion. From this moment forward, he looked as if he owned this fight. Cortez wouldn’t beat him. London wouldn’t, either.

  Daniella dabbed on a little bit of makeup. She didn’t need much, not when all of the attention in the room would focus on Jack.

  “Ready?” he asked, pointing to the clock beside the bed.

  “Where’s Shakes?”

  A knock sounded on the door. “Bet that’s him.” Jack pulled the door open and Shakes stood at the threshold.

  “Jack, I’ve got some good news.”

  At the sound of Shakes’s voice, she walked over to join them.

  “The promoter is going to let me be your cut man.”

  “That’s fantastic!” Dani’s chest swelled. Suddenly, it was as if everything in London was going their way.

  “That is good news,” Jack said. “Why the change?”

  Shakes shrugged.

  It was hard not to look for a hidden meaning. The back of her neck prickled. Gifts rarely fell from the sky. It didn’t feel right that Stamina was allowed to use its own cut man, but she didn’t have time to analyze it. She didn’t want to let on how suspicious she found this information, so she changed the subject. “Okay. That’s great news. But we’d better head downstairs. The press conference will start soon.”

  Jack led the way. Daniella donned her sunglasses and Shakes walked beside her. Once they entered the hotel lobby, Clarke met them in the middle of the room.

  Her eyes narrowed and fixed on the man who’d betrayed Jack. She was glad he couldn’t see how much she hated him.

  Clarke lifted his hand, stopping them. “We’re all set for the weigh-in in the ballroom. You will enter from the main door. Cortez and his people are entering from the back. Weigh-in. Answer a few questions, and you’re free to go.”

  She allowed her eyes to fix on Clarke’s hands and the movements of his body, as if he might try something. Jack’s demeanor seemed surprisingly calm. In control. Clarke didn’t rattle him. Not a bit.

  She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t feel nervous. But here in her element, her nerves started to settle. Clarke walked to the ballroom doors and opened them.

  The sound of a large group of people standing all at once flooded her ears. Cameras flashed. Reporters shouted at Jack.

  “How does it feel to be back?”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to redeem yourself from your last performance?”

  “Are you fit to beat Cortez?”

  Jack didn’t answer. Instead he walked to the front of the room, and she followed.

  He stepped up on the stage and stopped beside the scale. Dani took her place off to the side, out of the limelight. This was Jack’s moment to show them all he was back. To show them what they’d done together.

  After a beat, a door at the rear of the room opened. Two muscle-bound men entered, wearing dark clothes. Behind them, Cortez was dressed in gold trunks that captured the camera’s flash and glowed like the star the press had made him out to be.

  After he’d come to the front of the room, Daniella took in Cortez. Six two. Probably two hundred and twenty pounds. His chest rippled with muscles. The man was huge. For a second she thought she heard him growl.

  Fuck.

  She allowed her eyes to switch to Jack. He didn’t flinch. He probably didn’t realize how tough that made him look against Cortez. Jack’s opponent strode into the room and stood on the opposite side of the scale.

  Clarke stepped in the middle of the two men.

  “The first contender, ready to avenge his recent loss. With a record of fifteen wins and one loss. From Las Vegas, Nevada, Jack Brady.”

  Polite applause filled the room.

  Jack stepped on the scale.

  Clarke looked down, and then announced, “Two hundred and ten pounds.”

  Spot-on. Nothing fishy there.

  Jack stepped back.

  “The second contender,” Clarke continued, “with a record of twelve wins and zero losses. From Mexico City, Mexico, Ricardo Cortez.”

  The room erupted in cheers and whistles. No one disputed who won as fan favorite.

  Cortez stepped onto the scale.

  Clarke looked down and then announced, “Two hundred and twenty-two pounds.”

  The room exploded again. Cortez raised both arms, curling his fists, and his biceps rose.

  Dear God, that’s a twelve-pound advantage.

  With the force of a thrown punch, those twelve extra pounds would feel like twenty to Jack’s unprotected head.

  Clarke continued, “The fighters will answer a few questions.” Stepping aside, the reporters feasted on the two contenders like Thanksgiving dinner. Men and women swarmed Jack. Lost in a sea of bodies, the crowd pushed Daniella into the corner. Jack faded into the distance.

  A hand outstretched in her direction. “Here, let me help you.” The hand, attached to Clarke’s arm, wrapped around her wrist and pulled her beside him. “I’m glad I found you. I thought we might take a few moments to chat.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’m fairly certain we have nothing to chat about.”

  His bottom lip protruded. “I disagree.”

  Freeing herself from his grasp, she took a step back, widening the space between them.

  “It’s good to see Jack looking so well, so fit. I can tell you’ve had a hand in getting him refocused on the sport.”

  Her face tightened. “Thank you.”

  “But handling a boxer like Jack isn’t easy. He’s one that can’t be controlled.”

  She blew a rush of air through her nostrils. “You seemed to control him just fine once you spiked his water bottle.”

  He gave a curt grin. “We’re both busy people, Miss Chambers. I don’t want to waste your time, but I have an offer for you.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  He raised his hand. “Hear me out. You might change your mind.”

  Daniella folded her arms across her chest. There wasn’t anything he could say that would make her believe a word that came out of his mouth. Clarke was a liar and a cheat. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?”

  “The boxing community is a small one. I recently learned that the Nevada Boxing Commission has fined Stamina one hundred thousand dollars in response to your father’s unfortunate bet. How heartbreaking, especially when you are already facing eviction. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone . . . just yet.”

  She flashed him an icy glare. “What’s your point?”

  “Again, you’ve done a fantastic job getting Jack back into shape, but you’re in over your head if you think you can handle the world of boxing. So here’s what I’m offering. My associates and I are looking to expand into Vegas. So we’d like to offer you five-hundred thousand for Jack’s contract.”

  “You want to buy out his contract? Why only Jack?”

  He cleared his throat. “I know the gym has other boxers, but we’re not interested in them. This can be a lucrative opportunity for you. Think about it.”

  He turned to leave, but stopped when she asked, “Why would I want to make a deal with you?”

  “What means more to you, sweetheart, Jack Brady or saving your gym and restoring your father’s good name? The question isn’t why would you want to make a deal with me—considering your financial status, the question is, why wouldn’t you?”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Dani felt her body stiffen. She needed to take a moment. Jack could handle the press on his own. She’d prepped him. He could fend off the reporters. She strode to the elevators and pushed the button. A single door s
lid open. Riding the elevator back to her room, a feeling of unease crowded into the tiny space with her. Clarke’s offer had to be a feeble attempt to get inside her head and upset Team Jack before the fight.

  She hadn’t known that Stamina’s financial troubles were common knowledge. How did word get out? And why was Clarke so damned interested in Jack?

  If Clarke knew about Stamina’s dire straits, it meant the news was out in the open. Public. Mike. Trevor. Bulldog. Now they’d all learn the news of Stamina’s financial problems and the trouble with the commission. Her father’s legacy would become fodder for the sports world. No other gym would take them seriously once the news of her situation got out. How would she book future cards?

  Jack was counting on her for his future. He wanted to fight Sokoloff. He wanted to be a world champion.

  She worked to even out her breathing. Keeping calm was paramount in situations like these. She couldn’t allow her thoughts to run out of control.

  She didn’t hear the click of the keycard, just the sound of the door behind her opening.

  “What are you doing up here?” Jack’s voice flowed over her shoulder. “You missed the press conference.”

  She turned to face him and slipped a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Clarke approached me.”

  His face blanked as if she’d cold-cocked him. “Did he lay a hand on you?” In a few steps, he walked to her.

  She closed her eyes and lifted a hand to her forehead, taking a few moments to breathe. “No. It was nothing like that.” Dani opened her eyes and settled them on his baby blues. “He wants to buy out your contract.”

  Jack’s eyes narrowed into slits.

  “He knows about the fine, the money I owe. I’m scared that if he tells what he knows, it will kill my chances to book future cards for you and the guys.”

  “Let him talk. When I beat Cortez, it won’t be a problem anymore.”

  She didn’t say anything, but wondered what would happen if he lost. Again.

  She rubbed her hand across her forehead. “The team has a black eye right now because of my father. The one thing we had in our favor was that news of the debt hadn’t spread. I’d hoped we could pay it off before anyone other than you, me, and Shakes knew. I can’t bear to think about how this will affect Mike, Trevor, and Bulldog? No one wants to do business with a financially troubled gym.”

  He slid an arm across her shoulders, and his face lined with worry. “I guess I didn’t think about that.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Jack decided to go for a run. He needed to clear his head, and a long five-mile run was just the trick. He quickly changed into workout clothes and caught the elevator to the lobby. The door swung open.

  Immediately Clarke’s face came into view. “Thought I might find you down here.”

  Jack tried to step past him, but Clarke blocked his path. The heavyweight pushed right through him. After a few beats, Clarke appeared in front of him again. Jack curled his hand into a fist. The guy was asking for it. He faced the man he considered his fiercest enemy, more powerful than any boxer. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

  Clarke raised a hand, stopping Jack. “With Daniella upstairs, I thought we might have a chance to talk.”

  Jack folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “Hear me out,” Clarke said. “There are things you need to know.”

  Jack allowed his eyes to mark a spot on the wall. With just the right amount of force from his right hook, he figured he could pin Clarke against it in less than five seconds.

  “I made your girlfriend an offer this morning, one she’d be a fool to refuse.”

  Jack let out a bark of laughter. “She has no interest in an offer from you.”

  “She may. For five hundred thousand dollars.”

  Jack’s chest heaved. “How quickly did she tell you to go to hell?”

  Clarke’s lips pursed. “That’s the interesting thing, mate, she didn’t turn me down.”

  A warm ball of heat filled the place in his chest where the laughter once resided. “She didn’t agree.”

  “No. Not yet. If you do your part, she will. And I’ll pick up your contract for a nice price.”

  Jack stormed into the hall and grabbed a fistful of Clarke’s shirt. “What kind of game is this?”

  “Take your hands off me, Jack. I assure you this is no game.”

  He pulled back his fist, ready to slam it into Clarke’s miserable face. “Start talking.”

  “I will once you let me go.”

  Jack released him with a push.

  “I will expect you to lose to Cortez by knockout, preferably in the first round. And if you don’t go down quickly, with each round you fight, the price I’ll offer your girlfriend drops. Earning her less and less. If you finish the fight, you’ll still lose.” He gave a smug grin. “You really didn’t think we’d let you win on points, did you? No. I have that covered. I chose the judges myself and paid them handsomely, too.”

  “You bastard,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Clarke deflected the insult. “If you don’t help me persuade Daniella to sell your contract, your career in boxing and Stamina gym will be finished.” Clarke’s eyes clouded. Hatred for Jack showed clearly on his face. “At times I felt bad about spiking your bottle. That was business. This is personal.”

  Jack let out a snort. “This is boxing. There’s nothing personal about it.”

  “On the contrary. After your last fight, I’d hoped you were done. Yet here you are, making a comeback. Your former manager thought you had the balls to take on Cortez, a man I’ve trained for years. He should be fighting for the world championship against Sokoloff, but you’re standing in the way.”

  Jack’s temper flared. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

  Clarke stepped aside, letting him pass. “The clock is ticking, Jack. Help Daniella make the right decision.”

  Jack’s knees threatened to buckle.

  A cold sweat broke out all over his body. He turned around and pushed the button, calling the elevator. He needed to find out if Daniella was thinking about accepting his offer. Or if this was more of Clarke’s deceit. If it was, he was doing one heck of a job screwing with his head.

  Jack bit the inside of his cheek. Pain darted through his face. Blood drenched his tongue. Internalizing his rage kept him from making any mistakes, like pummeling Clarke before the fight.

  If Clarke was telling the truth, that he’d bought off the judges, he’d have no choice except to convince Daniella to sell his contract. If he didn’t, she would lose everything. He couldn’t be responsible for leaving her in debt, seeing her lose Stamina and the only bit of her father she had left. The thought weighed heavy in his heart.

  He hated like hell that R. L. had placed that bet and put them all in jeopardy. If Jack had only won, he could have saved them from this.

  A dull thumping pounded in his chest, surging his blood and sending his hands shaking. He had to find Dani. He had to convince her to sell his contract. Putting Stamina in his rearview mirror was the only respectable way out of the scandal for both of them. But first, he walked alone inside the tiny hotel elevator, and closed the door behind him.

  Chapter Thirty

  Daniella ordered a second martini for the reporter and a glass of merlot for herself. She spent the last twenty minutes giving interviews to any member of the press who would cover her story. Daughter inherits gym and rebuilds legacy sounded like a pretty good headline to her. And tonight may be the only time she was grateful for the attention. The light from above her table shone on the shiny wood. Dani wiped her hand over the surface, needing something to do with herself.

  The reporter greedily downed the last of his drink and fired off another question. “Over the years, did your father give you any indication of the magnitude of responsibility you’d inherit?”

  “He didn’t have to. I knew responsibility came with the territory. We both loved the sport
. We connected over it. Growing up in the gym, I understood at an early age what running a gym consisted of. I’ve been preparing for this role all of my life.”

  “Being a single father and gym owner, did he make time for you outside of boxing?” the reporter asked, as if he were trying to wheedle his way into her past.

  An electric charge zapped her heart. “Of course he did. But we were a boxing family first,” she answered truthfully, maybe with more honesty than she should have. As she mentally prepared for another question, a shadow loomed over her table. She glanced up. Jack stood hovering over them. “I need a minute.” He bent down toward the reporter and huffed out the word, “Now.”

  The reporter didn’t wait for his second drink. Visibly afraid of what may happen if he did, he gave a slight nod and said, “Nice to meet you, Miss Chambers.”

  Then the frightened man collected his notes and dashed from his seat.

  Jack took his chair. “Clarke talked to me about my contract. You have to sell it to him.”

  She gripped the lip of the table, steadying herself. One thing about Jack, he didn’t waste words. She grimaced. “It was a ridiculous offer.”

  Jack started shaking his head before she’d finished talking. “No. Listen. Clarke approached you with a legitimate offer. A damned good offer. Take it.”

  “Why?”

  “It solves all our problems.”

  “Do you not want to be with Stamina anymore? Or you do you not want to be with me?” She pressed her hand flat on the table. “Is that what’s going on here? You don’t want to be with me and the only way out is by jumping ship?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you always try to push me away?”

  Jack leaned toward her. “I’m not pushing you away. I’m protecting you.”

  She felt her face harden. “I don’t need your protection. I’m your manager. Fines, evictions, bad press, I can handle it. All you need to do is win the fight.”

  He got up and moved his chair closer to her. “That’s the thing.” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Clarke isn’t going to let that happen. It’s a setup. He paid off the judges so I can’t win on points.”