Champ

by Rhona Davis

  “Connor’s in trouble,” Adrian says in a hushed voice. “If he fights that guy who bust up his older brother, he might get hurt . . . really hurt. Unless . . .”

  “Unless what?”

  Adrian tears the aluminium wrapper off his vanilla wafer with his teeth, and then dips the end of the thing into his lukewarm latte. Taking a big bite, he smiles. “Mm . . . now this is living.”

  I push forward. “For god’s sake, Adrian . . . unless what?”

  “He agrees to take a dive.”

  My brow furrows.

  Adrian reaches into his leather satchel and pulls out a paper wallet before sliding it across the table toward me.

  As I race to pry it open, Adrian suddenly places his hand upon mine. “Not here.” He looks around the coffee shop. “Open it at home.”

  “What is it?”

  “Files.”

  I tut. “I guessed that. Files on what?”

  “His promoter, Michael Garcia. We have an inside man who’s working as a cleaner at the promotional offices. He’s our new intern. Good kid. Anyway, he found a way into Garcia’s office. Don’t ask how. Those are copies of documents that chart a catalog of bribes, shady contracts and secret emails. Sophie, it’s all one big gambling racket. If a fighter doesn’t agree to take a fall, they find other ways of winning fights.”

  I feel faint. Pulling back on my chair, I rub at the bridge of my nose.

  Adrian leans forward. “You okay?”

  “Yes! Christ. This is madness. So what now? I guess we should go to the authorities.”

  “Negative.”

  “Why not?”

  “We need to catch them in the act. Before we alert the cops, we have to wait for fight night.”

  I slam my fist on the table, almost knocking off the sugar bowl. “That’s crazy! Connor could be killed.”

  He motions for me to soften my voice, before continuing. “If we just go in and provide this as proof to the sanctioning bodies, when we don’t even know if they’re involved in the scam themselves yet, or more importantly the police, then the lawyers for the promotional company could claim that these documents are fraudulent and have their team of lawyers sue us to extinction. Monty had his gym, his house, and his whole life fucked with and turned over. I’m surprised he hasn’t had a bullet planted in his skull.”

  I pause for a moment, trying to register everything Adrian’s telling me, before taking in a deep breath. “So, what do we do about it?”

  “We have to snare them on the night of the fight.”

  “I have to tell Connor.”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to. I’m not using him as a pawn to get our story.”

  “If he agrees to take a dive then they won’t harm him.”

  I glare at Adrian like he’s just stepped off a spaceship. “That’s a good thing.”

  “A good thing? Just allowing them to carry on with their crime syndicate?”

  “Why should Connor be a martyr?”

  “He won’t get hurt. We can pop the news just before the first bell. As long as we catch the opponent cheat then we have cast-iron case. That, along with all these files . . . man, their whole little operation will be history. Our paper, Sophie, our paper can be the one who opened this all up. Imagine the exposure.”

  I shake my head and push the mug of coffee away from me. “I’m sorry. No way I’m risking it. I’m telling Connor everything.”

  “What is it with him?”

  My brows meet. “Sorry?”

  “Connor. What is it with him and you? Normally you’d be well pumped for a scandal like this to break. Our paper could be at the center of it and you’re acting like this.”

  “I’m sorry, but when it comes to a person’s life I have principles. I have to tell him.”

  Adrian sighs. “That’s too bad. William is going to be very disappointed.”

  I push from the table. “Tell him to go to hell. I’m not going to allow our paper to risk another man’s life, and that’s my final decision on the matter.”

  “Something’s going on with you two, isn’t it? Are you and Connor involved?”

  “I don’t see why that’s any of your business.”

  He runs his spoon across the frothy skin of his coffee. “Oh, I don’t know about that . . . conflict of interest, isn’t that what they call it?”

  “You bastard.”

  “Sophie, I know you don’t like it. Look, I won’t say anything to the boss but just think about it for a second . . . if those bastards get away with their cheating, pretty soon there will be more Adam Patricks. I’ve already heard additional stories from our insider. Stories about other major injuries in the last few months, injuries which have been swept under the rug.”

  I soften my posture. “But why Connor? Why use him to smash this gambling ring open?”

  “I can personally assure you, he won’t hear the first bell . . . but he has to be there for the fight. They will bribe him. It’s in an email you’ll find in one of those documents. And you know how proud Connor is. He’ll tell them to go to hell and fight anyway. All we have to do is make our move at the right time.”

  “I have to go.” I swipe up the folder.

  He jerks his chin to it. “Maybe I should keep those?”

  “Like hell you will. This is my story.”

  As I head for the exit, Adrian calls out after me. “Sophie . . .”

  I turn on my heel and glare at him.

  He smiles. “We can do this. Have faith.”

  I swallow back my response and head outside.

  As I walk the few short blocks to my apartment, I hear a buzz from my phone. I reach into my pocket and pull it out.

  Connor:

  I miss you. Call me. X

  I suck hard, as the strong fruity white wine hits the back of my palette. I don’t normally drink at home, especially when I’m cooped up on my own in my cramped little apartment, but I need something to the take the edge of what Adrian told me earlier. The idea that Connor’s very own promotional company could be using him in a dangerous chess game blows my mind.

  I never texted Connor back before. I didn’t know what to say. If I were to have texted back then I’m sure I would have told him everything over the phone.

  Truth is I miss him like crazy. But now, especially now, I worry so much about him.

  As I take on more wine, I make up my mind to spill everything tomorrow. Get it all out in the open.

  Screw my job and the damn article.

  For the first time in my life I’ve found someone who I can really love—do really love. If this all backfires then at least I know I tried to protect him. The idea that he’s being manipulated into something so evil, all for the sake of money, makes me sick.

  My eyes well up as I think about his past, as I think about how hurt his pride will be when I cough up what I know.

  I place the fan of documents out on the bed and stare down at them. This is so bad.

  Reaching for my phone, I decide to call the only person who could help me make sense of it all. I punch in my momma’s number and wait.

  It goes straight to voice mail.

  Maybe she’s sleeping?

  I wait to get through and leave her a quick message to call me back when she can.

  Swigging back the last inch of wine at the bottom of my glass, I start toward the kitchen to polish off the rest of the bottle.

  I have never felt so conflicted before. It’s no longer about my own aspirations as a reporter; this is literally a balance of life and death. And if Connor’s pride is hurt in the crossfire, then so be it—it’s a risk I have to take . . .

  I just hope he doesn’t hate me for being the deliverer of bad news.

  20

  Sofia

  A late August morning sun shines through the cab’s windows as we approach Connor’s mansion. My palms are sweaty. I am so excited to see Connor again. It feels like I’ve spent weeks away and yet I only left him late yesterday. Butter
flies run riot in my belly, but dwelling in the background of my excitement, like a cruel gate crasher, is a sense of crippling dread.

  I need to be brave. Whatever the consequences, I can’t allow him to go ahead with the fight. To hell with our paper, I will resign first thing if I have to. Connor is just too important.

  I ask the driver to stop a few houses away from the mansion. I want to creep through the patio doors and surprise him. I can’t wait to feel his hands on my body again and feel his soft lips kiss mine. I want him to consume me, to own me.

  I exit the cab and hand the driver his fare, and then sneak up to the side entrance of the house.

  His Bugatti is parked up front so I know he’s not at the gym. Maybe that’s the key I need—diversion tactics? Keep him out of training so he won’t be ready to fight?

  I grip the handle and pull the sliding door gently open, then slowly edge my way inside.

  The house is silent. Not even the sound of a cleaner or a cook or a gardener, just an eerily calm.

  I walk through the patio to the kitchen and then head for one of the living rooms at the front of the property. Before I can get too far, I stop in my tracks.

  Off to my left I can hear the sound of laughter from a room. A woman’s voice— older, not a girl—and what I’m sure is a young child.

  I frown and march right on through.

  As soon as I get to the room where the sounds come from, I drop all of my bags to the floor.

  “Sofia.”

  “Momma?” I cry.

  “Sofia.” Mom holds her arms out to me, as Connor is knelt beside Ana playing some type of board game.

  Numb with shock, I stay rooted to the spot and glance at Connor who winks at me and smiles.

  My mouth dries up. “How did—?”

  “Aren’t you going to give your mother a hug?” Connor says.

  I run into Momma’s arms and squeeze tight. I haven’t seen her in months. Her comforting embrace, her sweet and familiar smell, the soft fabric of her favorite sweater, fills my eyes with unashamed tears of joy. As we hug, I peer through the mist of my watery eyes and mouth the words, “thank you,” to Connor.

  I close my eyes and continue to lose myself in momma’s reassuring hug. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  She pulls back and studies me. “You look well, baby. Has Connor been good to you?”

  I glance at Connor for a second, as he does me, and hold in laughter. “Yes.”

  If only she knew how good he’s been to me.

  Looking down at Ana, I motion for her to come over. She tells Connor not to move her place on the board and then races over and gives me a huge squeeze around the waist.

  Almost breathless from happiness, I ask mom how and when she came.

  She grins. “Your boyfriend is so kind, Sofia, he sent for us—”

  “On a plane,” Ana excitedly cuts in.

  Mom pushes closer to me and whispers, “Your boyfriend is a real keeper.”

  “My boyfriend?” I say, keeping an eye on the ever increasing smug look that stretches Connor’s face.

  Mom winks at me. “He’s handsome, just like your Papa was.”

  “Momma,” I say, embarrassed at already being match-made.

  Connor pushes from the floor. “Right, I think it’s time for some late breakfast. Who likes scrambled eggs?”

  “Me,” Ana shouts, jumping around and waving her arms in the air.

  “And he can cook,” momma says to me over her shoulder, as she follows Ana and Connor through to the kitchen.

  I stay on the spot—a delayed reaction perhaps. How Connor did this, I can’t even begin to work out. But however he planned it—whatever tricks he employed to shock me in the most beautiful of ways—that man has just made me love him even more.

  As mom takes over washing the plates from breakfast, I grab a cloth to wipe my hands dry and ask her if she’ll give me two minutes to catch up with Connor. I walk over to the table and ask him to follow me through to another room.

  Ana pouts and creases her brow. “Hey! Connor was talking to me. Wait your turn.”

  “It’s okay, darling,” Connor tells her. “I’ll be back soon. Your big sis wants to ask me something important.”

  She crosses her arms and throws me a suspicious look. “You’re not going to kiss him, are you?”

  Connor laughs.

  “Ana,” mother shouts over.

  Connor waves it off. “It’s alright, Ms. Chavez. Boys are smelly . . . isn’t that right, Ana?”

  She sticks her tongue out at me.

  I can tell Connor wants to hold my hand or place his arm around me, but he is a real gentleman in front of my family and keeps things respectful—which is certainly not how he is in the bedroom.

  As he approaches me, he motions for me to the lead the way. We make our way to his study at the far side of the house.

  “How did you do this?” I ask him, as he presses close to me.

  “You left your address book on the kitchen worktop. I’m sorry, and I know it’s bad to look through your stuff, but trust me . . . I never went through your list of ex-boyfriends.”

  A wide grin plays across my lips. “Just tell me how. I promise I won’t be mad. How could I be? What you’ve done for me and my family is amazing.”

  “I saw her address and number so I thought I’d surprise you. I heard you saying you missed her on the phone, so I thought you’d enjoy a little surprise.”

  “Of course I do, it’s . . . it’s too much. But thank you.”

  We meet each other for a kiss. All I want to do is tear his shirt open and ravage his body in the most wicked of ways. I need my fix, but considering my family are just two rooms away I settle for a slow and passionate kiss.

  Just as things get heated, I jump. Ana stands at the door with a crossed expression on her face. “We have a game to finish.”

  Connor sighs. “You know what, for eight-years old you’re just too good at board games.”

  “Eight and a half,” she corrects.

  “Wow, eight and a half. You’re big now.”

  “I’m not big,” she replies. “I’m old.”

  Connor turns to me and we both burst into laughter.

  “Okay,” he says to her. “Come on, princess . . . but don’t be mad at me when I win.”

  “You won’t.”

  “Hey, young lady, I’m champ of the world.”

  She rolls her eyes, “That’s boxing, silly.”

  “Alright then, wanna bet on it?”

  She nods.

  “If you win, then we will all go to the fun fair tomorrow.”

  Her eyes light up. “Really?”

  Connor places his right hand to the left side of his chest. “I swear.”

  “Hurry,” she says, charging straight through to the other room where their unfinished game awaits.

  As Connor slumps away, he looks back at me and shrugs with a smile.

  The effortlessly sweet way he is treating my family could have me melting right on the spot. Seeing the caring side of him makes me realize how precious he is to me. And while I love it, it also scares me. I’m convinced even more now that I have to talk him out of his fight.

  21

  Connor

  Ana jumps out of the bumper car and runs down the short plank toward her sister and mom. I’m left trailing behind, watching a very excitable girl leap into her mother’s arms.

  “That was awesome,” she shouts.

  I smile, deeply satisfied at the happiness that Ana exudes from something so simple as a fairground attraction. I also smile when I see the look of approval on Sofia’s gorgeous face. I love making her happy.

  Approaching the family, I clutch at my forehead. “She is lethal on that thing.”

  Ana becomes animated and starts re-enacting the ride. “I loved it when we crashed into those horrible boys.”

  “Ana,” Monica, her mom, says, seemingly embarrassed at the violent glee her youngest daughter shows.

  I lau
gh aloud, which is met by disapproving looks from both Monica and Sofia. I’m pretty sure that beneath the stern look on Sofia’s face is the tiniest hint of a smirk.

  “Hotdogs!” Ana grabs her mom’s wrist and drags her toward a food stall at the far end of the fair.

  I step closer to Sofia and take her by the hand. The fire in her big brown eyes ignites every inch of my body and soul. She is the only girl who could ever do that to me. I crane my head past Sofia, making sure that Ana and her mom are suitably distracted, then pull her in for a kiss. As soon as my lips massage hers I’m in heaven again. Her taste is so addictive. I just want to drink her in and never stop.

  She pulls back from our warm kiss and locks her gaze to mine. “They’re so happy.”

  “I know.”

  “Thank you, Connor. Thank you for all of this.”

  I shrug.

  “Really,” she continues. “Money is tight for our family and anytime the fair comes to our town we can never afford it. Ana is in her element.”

  “And you?”

  She arches a brow.

  “Are you in your element?” I ask.

  “I don’t need to come to a place like this to be in my element, as long as I’m with you.”

  “Hey!”

  “What?”

  I furrow my brow. “Why didn’t you sleep with me last night? I was waiting for you, and before I knew it it was morning.”

  Her hands run across my chest, each finger rippling over the dense muscles of my taut pecs. “I was catching up with momma. It’s been months since I’ve seen her.”

  I begin to talk but shake myself from it. All I want is a second helping of her sweet, cherry tasting lips. Lips I’ve missed so very much.

  “What do you think?” she murmurs in my mouth.

  As much as it hurts to do so, I pull back and look down at her bare legs. They’re stunningly showed off in a pair of torn denim shorts and sexy cowboy boots. The definition of Country-chic.

  “What do I think?” I say, almost offended by the question. “I think you’re fucking gorgeous, and not taking you right here and now is torture for me.”