Before I knew it, I was flat-out sprinting on the treadmill, absentmindedly upping the speed until the machine whirred loudly with strain. I snapped out of my thoughts when I realized that a man a few treadmills down from me was staring openly over at me, his jaw dropped and his eyes bugging out a little. I must have looked absolutely crazy. Especially because to the unsuspecting bystander, I didn’t have the typical appearance of a hardcore athlete.
When people think of athletes, they think of huge, muscular bodies lifting weights and pushing their strength to the limits. But I was a different kind of strong-- lean, quiet, and long-lasting. I sighed as I stepped off the treadmill and took a swig of my water.
It was such a pity. Between Marc Montoya’s incredible strength and my overwhelming stamina and flexibility, there was virtually no limit to the kinds of wild sex we could have together. He could move me in ways neither of us probably ever dreamed about. And I could please him for hours on end, never losing steam.
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and bit my lip. I had come to the gym to forget about Marc, not to spend the whole workout session fantasizing about him. For the next hour I went through the motions, putting my body through the wringer as I tried to focus on sweating and pushing myself rather than worrying over how Marc was going to do today.
But what if he was injured again? What if the damage to his hip and shoulder hadn’t healed up as well as we expected? What if he lost? My stomach churned at the thought of him losing the fight, and even worse, being seriously hurt in the process. I knew it was a distinct possibility. His career came with a whole array of potential concerns, and he was lucky to have evaded serious injury thus far. In fact, he had told me that his work with me had been his first real stint in rehabilitation, ever. A lot of that came from the fact that he worked his ass off to keep himself in good condition. He ate right, he worked out daily, and he studied the techniques closely. He wasn’t a dirty fighter by any means, and despite his tough-guy exterior he was actually somewhat of a stickler for the rules of the sport.
Outside of the ring, he was known to break the rules, of course. But when that bell rang and the match began, he was a modern-day noble jouster, fighting for the prestige and the pride of knowing he had done everything right.
In that way, we were very similar. I, too, liked to play things pretty much by the book. We were both firm believers in the idea that plain old hard work and dedication were the most direct and fulfilling paths to success. Back when I was training alongside other runners, I was often the first to show up to the gym and the last to leave every day. I always tried to apply the same diligence and discipline to every aspect of my life. I had to be the best runner, the best employee, the best guardian to Alice.
And god, I wanted to be the best partner to Marc.
Something deep within my heart told me that I could easily be so good for him, and that he would be wonderful for me, too. Despite the roughness of our first encounter together, we were actually a pretty balanced pair. I kept flashing back to the way we so effortlessly melded our bodies together, moving in sync with every thrust and sigh.
Like we were made for each other.
Panting, I sat down on a bench and stared down at the shiny linoleum tiles. I grabbed a little white towel from my bag and swiped it across my face, then took a long draught of water. I had to keep reminding myself that whatever I’d had with Marc, whatever little spark had appeared between us, was over now. I had to let him go somehow. Besides, I had no way of knowing whether he even cared about me at all. He probably hadn’t thought about me once since our last session.
I could definitely see how he could be distracted-- especially with Selena Marquez around. She was everything I would never, ever be: tall, voluptuous, glamorous, and cutthroat. In a way, I had to admire her. After all, we were both dogged in our determination to be successful in our respective fields. I wanted to be the best physical therapist and athlete I could be, and she was dead-set on becoming a famous, coveted model. I understood how her drive had pushed her to be such a conniving femme fatale. There wasn’t much room at the top for more than one girl, and I knew she’d be damned before she let anyone else take up too much space.
I wondered if she let Marc take up space in her world. The way she’d described him, it wasn’t like she genuinely cared about him. She only wanted to stake a claim in the power and prestige that went along with his name and reputation. Being on his arm was a surefire way to get noticed, especially since he was still on the rise. Hitching herself to his shooting star was a quick ride to the top. I understood that, and I almost couldn’t hold it against her, except for the fact that I did genuinely care about Marc.
God, I cared about him. I wanted him to be happy, whether it was with me or with Selena or whatever. But it wasn’t up to me anymore, was it?
With a heavy sigh I headed off to the showers. Once I was all clean, I toweled off my body and tried to wring most of the water from my hair. I wondered if anyone was back in the physiotherapy offices right now. I knew some weekends Trina or Danny would come in just to get a head start on paperwork for the upcoming week. They were workaholics, for sure. I unlocked the door to the back offices and walked in, pleased to see that the lights were on.
“Hey, who’s back here working overtime?” I called out brightly. I hoped one of them were here so I could distract myself even longer with a little conversation. The fight was scheduled for seven o’clock this evening, so I still had many, many hours to fill with other things. To my relief, Trina emerged from her office, beaming.
“Oh, hey girl!” she greeted me, rushing up to hug me. “Been workin’ out?”
“Yeah, just trying to keep myself busy, you know,” I told her, shrugging.
“Right, right. Of course. Well, why don’t you come in and sit down so we can chat?” she suggested, taking my arm. I nodded, wondering why she was being so weirdly formal all of a sudden. As soon as I walked into her office, I understood why.
Alice hopped up and waved excitedly. “Ohh! Hi, sis! Fancy seeing you here!” she giggled. She and Trina exchanged conspiratorial looks and I was instantly concerned.
“A-Alice, what are you doing here? I thought you had homework,” I said, putting my hands on my hips.
“Oh, yeah, that. Well, turns out Dequan is really good at math and he helped me finish it in record time,” she quipped cheerily.
I looked at Trina quizzically. “He and the boys picked her up and dropped her off here soon after you left the house this morning,” she explained with a wink. “They all hung around for awhile and Dequan helped her with her homework. He’s a math whiz on top of being ridiculously handsome!”
“And we got doughnuts!” Alice added, gesturing to a pink box from a local bakery sitting on Trina’s desk.
“A-ha, that explains it. I was wondering what could possibly get you out of bed that early on a Saturday morning,” I said to Alice. Sweets were her kryptonite. Still, it was weird that she’d asked Dequan to drop her off here instead of just riding over with me. So I went on: “But that doesn’t answer my question-- what are you doing here? I’m sure Trina has lots of work to do and--”
“Oh, no! It’s fine! We’ve just been discussing some… stuff,” Trina interjected, unable to suppress that million-watt grin.
“Okay, seriously, you guys are being weird. What’s going on?” I asked, confused.
Alice looked about ready to explode. She blurted out, “We had to make arrangements for your surprise! So Dequan helped me get my homework done and then we all planned for tonight. Oh my god, it’s gonna be so perfect, you have no idea!”
My heart skipped a beat. Tonight? I was starting to get a little worried. What could they possibly have planned now? Suddenly, it occurred to me that tonight was Marc’s match. No, they couldn’t possibly be planning…
“We’re taking you to see Marc’s fight!” Trina exclaimed, throwing her arms up.
I shook my head and held up my hands. “Ohhh no. We are not doing t
hat. Bad idea. I’ve been doing everything possible to forget it’s even happening.”
“I know, but it’s not working, is it?” Alice said, and she was right. Clearly ignoring the situation hasn’t gotten me very far as of yet.
“It’s already paid for and arranged. We are all going to the see the fight. We’ve got a babysitter for the boys, and Dequan is excited to see how the sport’s changed since he was a fighter himself. And if it helps to think of it this way instead, just tell yourself that we’re going to see Marc because you are the one who helped him regain his fighting condition. So, really, we’re just going there to support you!” Trina explained slyly.
I sighed, defeated yet again. I should have known they would pull something like this. And I knew better than to argue with them. Besides, they were right. I could totally attend the fight, just to see how my handiwork turned out. No big deal, right?
CHAPTER 19 - MARC
With everything that had been on my mind for the past few days, the night of the big fight came on like a storm out of nowhere. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t ready to face whatever was coming my way, nonetheless. I’d focused my mind, resolved my will, and more than anything else, I’d honed my body to a height of perfection I didn’t realize could be achieved before my injury.
I was ready.
Trevor Rockford was my opponent. I’d heard a little about him. He was a guy from a big city up north, and he’d had every advantage in becoming a fighter. Came from a rich family who gave him a private gym, had tutors giving him the best boxing training he could have wished for from the time he grasped the concept of throwing a punch. He was big, he was brawny, and he knew his stuff. And I couldn’t wait to send him crashing to the ground.
I could hear the sounds of the crowd from the back room where I was getting ready.
“There’s gonna be a lot of people watching you today, Marc,” Kenny was saying as I rolled my shoulders, psyching myself up to get out there in a few minutes as I was announced. “And a lot of them are gonna be rooting for you, I can tell you that much. You heard the buzz around the crowd?”
“Sounds like they want to see if I can still put on a show, from what I’ve heard,” I answered with a chuckle, taking a few light swings at the punching bag in the room.
“They’re gonna be rooting for you, but this guy Trevor, he’s got as much of a group of loyal fans he’s dragged all the way from up north to root him on. You’re going to have your work cut out for you.”
I give the bag another hard smack and turn around, cracking my neck. “Ken, I’ve been itching to get back into the ring from the moment I left it last time. Been thinking about my comeback from day one. I’ll give ‘em a show they won’t forget.”
Kenny grinned at me, clapping me on the back. “That’s my boy. I’m gonna go tell the refs you’re good to go. Be ready to charge out there and give ‘em hell.”
I smiled at him as he headed out of the room, and once I was finally alone, I breathed deeply. This should have been the point that I felt my insecurities rising up again, my doubts about my relationship coming to the surface, and my muscles suddenly feeling tense.
But I didn’t feel any of that. All I wanted was to get into the ring and do what I did best. My talk with Kenny and Danny had gone a lot further than I thought it could have. They reminded me that the love of this sport was what got me here, and that’s what I had to keep my mind on to stay here. And tonight, poor Trevor Rockford was going to be on the receiving end of all the fury I’d channeled.
Just as I was readying myself to head out the door, it swung open, and one of the last people I wanted to see just then barged in, that same skeezy grin on his face.
“Well hey there, Marc! Glad I caught you before you headed out, was starting to worry I’d never get a chance to catch up with you again!” said Nick Dewsbury. He was wearing the same glasses I’d seen him in last time, but this time, his short-sleeved button-down was black with red flame print along the bottom seam.
“Oh, hey Nick,” I said, deliberately sounding distracted. “Listen, I’ve been talking to a few people about this contract thing--”
“Right,” he said quickly, “I got your emails, and I most definitely took them into consideration when the legal team and the rest of us at High Octane put together this,” he said, producing a thick stack of papers that he set on the table in front of me. “It’s a five-year contract that would make us your primary sponsor for all future fights, appearances, radio advertisements, and on page twenty-one you’ll see a few clauses about television ads that will--”
“Nick,” I interrupted him, “this really isn’t a good time.”
“I know it’s a little last-minute,” he said, “but if you’d at least take a second to look some of this over, I really think you’ll like some of the entrepreneurial opportunities the contract affords.”
He practically shoved the papers into my face, and with a quiet groan, I accepted them, flipping through them with a thumb. I wasn’t about to sign anything right then--no way in hell. Besides, some of the language was in such fine print that I thought even a lawyer might have to read over it with a microscope.
“This is kind of a time-sensitive offer,” Nick said, and I glared at him over the papers. “And since I like you, Marc, I should let you know that some of our shareholders are keeping an eye on this fight. You could sign now and make the deal a certainty, but if the fight doesn’t go the way you’d like it, I can’t exactly guarantee they’ll let me keep offering it to you. That’s partly why I wanted to come see you in private,” he added with a shark-like smile.
“You’re kidding me,” I breathed, and I looked at the contract long and hard before I heard the emcee from outside.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got a very special show for you tonight!”
I threw the papers down on the table, looking Nick in the eye. “Look, I’ve gotta go. If your ‘shareholders’ want to try to hurry me into a deal, they can do so after I’ve kicked this guy’s ass.”
“But--” he stammered.
“Hang tight, Dewsbury,” I said, pushing past him and heading for the door, “and for fuck’s sake, ditch that shirt before someone sees you coming from my side of the ring.”
* * *
I emerged from my side after Trevor had already been announced, and half the crowd was cheering up a storm for him. He was a blonde who looked twice as tough as the last guy I’d faced. He looked at me with a stormy expression.
I noticed a lot more sponsorship banners around the ring than I was used to. I wondered how much of that had to do with Trevor. People who came from money tended to stick with money, and I doubted he was going to be any exception. I wondered just how much cash was riding on Trevor’s victory tonight. He was everything that money could buy in terms of skill, and it showed on him.
Good, I thought. Maybe this one will be a fair fight.
“And now, the local rising star you’ve all been waiting for,” the emcee announced as spotlights nearly blinded me, “hailing from Broadview, New Mexico, and storming his way across the desert to bring nearly three-hundred pounds of muscle right here to your doorstep, recovering from crippling injuries in record-breaking time, let’s hear it for Marc Montoya!”
The roar of the crowd was deafening as I dashed for the ring, climbing up into our arena and holding out my arms, strutting around the ring proudly. My heart was pounding fiercely in my chest, eager to be back here where I belonged, giving these people what they wanted--a match to remember.
The referee brought us together, and even as he said his routine speech, Trevor and I were ignoring him, locking eyes as if we were trying to read the other’s thoughts.
After the referee stepped away, we got into our positions, waiting for the bell. I sank into my stance, and I watched him raise his fists, ready to come at me with all that he had.
“Think that patch of dirt you came from has enough money to pay for your funeral?” Trevor mocked as he rolled his shoulders.
I laughed in his face. “No, but we oughta stop by after the fight anyway, they’d get a kick out of you.”
The bell rang.
In an instant, we were on each other, fists flying out like pistons. The first exchange was thrilling. His quick and fast blows was deflected by one of my blocks at every move, and as I returned the shots, his arms and legs seemed to move up from all directions to protect his body and face.
Adrenaline ran high, and my blood flowed ecstatically throughout every muscle. I was back in my element, and I reveled in it.
TKO (A Bad Boy MMA Romance) Page 14