by A. Rivers
“You want to get out of here, cutie pie?” he asks.
“Yes, please.”
My voice is a quiet rasp, but he hears me and looks over at Karson. “We’ve got better places to be,” he says. “See you in the cage, loser.”
And then he’s whisking me from the room, out the side exit to avoid cameras. When we’re on the sidewalk, I just stand there and shiver while he summons a taxi, then drapes his jacket over me.
“What do you need?” he asks.
I blink up at him, determined not to cry. “I need you. Can we just be together?”
15
Jase
Holy fuck. The guy I’m about to battle for the championship belt is Lena’s ex? In what universe does that make sense? And why didn’t she tell me?
She said he’d been involved in MMA, but there’s a difference between “involved” and “my biggest rival.” The guy is a Grade A douche. All fighters talk a lot of shit, but most don’t mean it. He does, one hundred percent. Karson has a mean streak. Likes to make people bleed and give them the kind of injuries they can’t walk away from. I may be a nasty fucker to face off against, but I don’t aim to ruin people’s careers. I just give the audience what they want so I get paid.
Lena is bundled up beside me in the back seat of the taxi. The driver is taking us to my place because it’s closer. She won’t look at me, and she’s hugging her knees to her chest. Does she think I’m mad? Because I’m not. Just confused.
“Lena.”
She nods, but doesn’t glance my way.
“You used to date Karson?”
She nods again, then clears her throat. “Yeah.”
An answer. That’s something. “Was it serious?”
She continues to stare forward. We’re not far from my house now, and I’m eager to get her somewhere she feels more comfortable.
“We were together for about three months.”
I lay my hand over hers, dying for a peek of her pretty eyes so I can see what’s going on in her head, but I can’t, so I ask what I really want to know. “What happened?”
Finally, her eyes meet mine, and the misery in them hits me like a knee to the kidneys. “I ended it with him because he…” Pressing her lips together, she seems to shore up her courage. I hate seeing her like this when she’s usually so sassy and full of life. “He hit me, and I wasn’t okay with that.”
Fuck. No.
My temper flares, and my blood pressure skyrockets. I can’t see anything but Lena. The edges of my vision are fogged with red.
I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill the bastard, and I won’t regret it for a second.
“He’s a dead man.” Adrenaline rushes to my muscles and I want nothing more than to punch or kick something. To take someone down. But I can’t. Not here. And that kind of reaction isn’t what Lena needs, so I struggle to contain it. “I should have planted my fist in his face instead of walking away.” Guilt washes over me. My girl needed defending, and I didn’t do it.
“No, Jase.” She releases her knees and takes my hand, having recovered enough to give me her whole attention. Even better, the fire is back in her eyes, along with a dose of blood lust. “I’m glad you didn’t. I’ve worked hard to get you out of trouble. But”—she moistens her lips with her tongue—“I want you to crush him.”
That, I can do. I’ve trained harder for this fight than any other, and after hearing her story, I’m either leaving the cage victorious, or he’ll have to knock me the fuck out. Nothing short of that will stop me from kicking his puny ass.
“Consider it done. You want me to break any bones while I’m at it?”
Her lips quirk up. I’m getting through to her. She’s not shivering as much as she was, and she’s starting to lean into me.
“Maybe his nose,” she replies. “The uglier you can make it, the better.”
“I’ll make him so ugly, he never gets laid again.”
She laughs, and I rejoice. Then the taxi pulls up, and I pay the driver and help Lena from the cab.
“How do you feel about hot tubs?” I ask, steering her with a hand on the small of her back. “’Cause I’m seeing one in your future.”
“I love hot tubs.” She grins over at me, and the strain of our encounter with Karson seems to have worn off. “Please tell me you have one with jets.”
“I do. It’s important for loosening my muscles after a hard training session. I have a sauna, too.” Personally, I don’t love the sauna. I have too many memories of sitting inside hot boxes trying to sweat off weight to make the grade for a fight. But Lena sighs happily and rests her head on my shoulder as I unlock the door. When we’re inside, I reluctantly let her go for long enough to retrieve a wine bottle and glass from the kitchen.
“Do you prefer red or white?” I ask.
“White.” Her answer is quick.
“Good, that’s what I’ve got.”
She eyes the single glass. “You’re not having any?”
“Nah.” I tuck the bottle under my arm, take her hand and lead her to the bathroom. “I don’t drink while I’m in fight camp.”
“Huh. So you don’t drink, don’t have sex, and you eat healthy. What do you do for fun?”
I shrug. “Hit people.”
She gives me a dubious look. “Seriously. You must let loose somehow.”
“I dunno.” I set the wine down and start filling the tub. “To be honest, I don’t usually have much free time.”
Her brows draw together. “We’ve been spending time together. What would you normally be doing?”
“Watching videos of my opponent’s previous fights.”
“Oh.” Her voice is small, and she hunches in. “Have I been getting in the way of your preparation?”
“Not at all.” Laying my hands on her shoulders, I draw her close and feather a kiss over her lips, then another over her forehead. “I know Karson’s style. I’ve fought him before, and I’ve also cornered Devon while the two of them fought. I don’t need to watch a couple dozen videos. I know how he operates.”
“So do I.” She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her cheek over my heart. “He doesn’t have a conscience, but he’s also not invincible.” Indecision crosses her features, as though she’s debating whether to share a secret or not. But then her jaw firms and she seems to make up her mind. “He doesn’t like to fight from the floor. He’ll try to stay upright. If you get him down, you’ll have the upper hand.”
She’s so serious. Her eyes are so sincere. I have to try really freaking hard not to smile. She’s thinks this is something I don’t already know. That she’s passing on insider intel. But anyone who follows MMA could figure out the same thing if they spent a couple hours researching him. Still, the fact she’s willing to betray his confidence for my sake sends warmth and affection fizzing through my chest, diffusing outward.
Caressing her cheekbone with the backs of my knuckles, I stare down at her in wonder. I could fall in love with this woman. She’s everything I admire in a person. Passionate, loyal, determined. Not afraid to cut her own path.
“Jase,” she whispers, as transfixed as I am.
I slide my palm around the curve of her cheek. “Yeah, baby?”
“The bath is about to overflow.”
The bath is...?
Oh, fuck. Spinning around, I crank the tap off just as the water reaches the rim. Neither of us can get into it without water going everywhere, so I strip out of my jacket, roll up my sleeves, reach in and remove the plug, allowing it to drain.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I demand, breathing heavily.
She makes an apologetic gesture. “I couldn’t think properly with you looking at me like that.”
The wind leaves my sails. I’d be a bastard if I grouched at her now. “Okay, I get that.”
A shrill ring breaks the tension. I dry my hands and fish my phone from my pocket.
It’s Erin. Just fucking great.
“Hop in,” I suggest. “I’ll be
back in a moment.” Taking the phone into the living room, and closing the door behind me, I answer. “What do you want?”
Tonight, I don’t have the patience for her games. Not when there’s a beautiful, naked woman waiting for me a couple rooms over.
“Jase.” Her voice shakes, and she’s talking quietly. “This whole thing has escalated too far.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She crossed a line when she sought out Karson. We both know she didn’t do it because she was blown away by his charm. Going after my opponent was just another way for her to get back at me. Her mistake is in assuming I’ll care.
“This war between us is silly,” she continues, her pitch dropping lower. “Surely we can work it out. We were always good together, baby.”
What. The. Fuck.
“No, Erin, we weren’t. You and me aren’t happening. Not ever. You stooped too low by letting your new man attack my girl. Don’t call me again.” I end the call then toss my phone on a chair and leave it there. Erin has never been good at understanding the word “no” and I don’t want her interrupting my precious time with Lena again. Speaking of Lena, she’s going to get a shoulder rub, and a foot rub, and the best damn cuddles she’s ever had. I can’t stop smiling at the thought of her.
The next morning, when I try to sneak out of bed, Lena’s arms tighten around me. “Don’t go.”
I kiss each of her closed eyelids. “Baby, I have to.”
Her hand fists around my erection. “I can convince you to stay.”
I’d much rather take her up on the offer than go for an eight mile run followed by an hour of pad and bag work. Gritting my teeth, I beg for strength. “It’s fight week, cutie pie. I only have three more days of hard training before the big event. I need to give it my all.” Nuzzling her neck, I trail kisses along her jaw until I reach her mouth. “Next week, I’m all yours.”
Her eyes flutter open, nearly blinding me with their beauty, but mercifully, she releases her hold on my errant cock. “You are?”
“Yeah.” My lips curve up. I love how excited she is by that prospect. My previous girlfriends have always been more anxious to be seen out and about with me than to actually spend time, just the two of us. “I always take a week off following a fight like this one. I won’t be totally free, I’ll have to meet with Seth and Nick to debrief, and the guys will want to do something together, but for the most part, I’ll be yours.”
She frames my face with her hands, looking up at me. “Maybe I’ll take a couple days off, too. I think I deserve it.”
“You should definitely do that, and I’m not going to let you out of this bed.”
“Promise?”
I kiss her. “Fuck, yeah.”
“Okay.” She drops her hands and makes a shooing gesture. “Get going then. Go do shuttle runs or burpees or whatever torture Seth has in store for you.”
I scramble from the bed before she changes her mind, tug on a tank top and shorts, and will my stiffy to do me a solid and go down before anyone sees. Fortunately, listening to sports podcasts while I pound out my run on the treadmill works wonders, and by the time I’m wrapping my hands at the gym, sex is far from my mind. Seth orders me to jump rope for twenty minutes, and I’m halfway through when the door bursts open and two uniformed police officers shove their way inside.
I’m so shocked, I forget to jump, and the rope whacks me across the shins, but I hardly notice. The officers stride across the floor toward me, their boots leaving tread impressions in the soft mats. One of them unclips a set of handcuffs from his belt. In my peripheral vision, I’m vaguely aware of Seth demanding to know what’s going on, but I don’t need to ask. The truth dawns on me with terrible clarity.
Erin went to the cops.
I didn’t leap to do her bidding, and this is the punishment. She wants to see me locked away, my mugshot plastered across the papers and my name in the headlines, alongside hers.
“Jason Rawlins,” one of the cops says in a booming, authoritative voice. “You are under arrest for misdemeanor battery against Erin Daley.”
I don’t try to run. There’s nowhere to go. Numbly, I allow them to cuff me. I’m meeker than a newborn kitten.
“I didn’t do it,” I tell them, knowing it won’t make an ounce of difference. They’re not here to hear my story. They’re here to take me in and let Erin play out her twisted little game in the court of public opinion. “I’m innocent.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The officer with the cuffs drags my arms behind my back with more force than necessary. “Save it for the judge, scumbag.”
His partner clears his throat. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
I tune out the rest of his words, catching Devon’s eye. Beside him, Gabe’s swarthy complexion is paler than usual. Seeing their faces does nothing to reassure me, so I seek out Seth. My coach’s glare could shoot flames, but he’s calm and collected.
“I didn’t do anything illegal,” I say, desperation creeping over me.
Seth nods. “We’ll fix this, Jase. Don’t say anything until your lawyer arrives. No matter what they offer you, don’t open your fucking mouth. Understand?”
I swallow. “Yeah, I understand.”
“Good.” With that, he turns away, already making a call. The officers shove me toward the exit, pausing long enough to let me don my shoes before dragging me outside. The second the door opens, cameras flash and I instinctively duck to get away from them. Shit. Someone called the paparazzi. This is going to be all over the news in minutes. How will Lena react? Lena. My stomach revolts, threatening to throw up the omelet I had for breakfast.
“Hold it in,” an officer snaps when I retch. He yells at a nearby photographer, throws the back of his police cruiser open, and when I don’t move fast enough, he stuffs me in.
On the way to the precinct, the officers lob questions back over their shoulders, but I keep my promise to Seth and don’t say a word. Even when I want to. They’re insulting me, trying to press my buttons. They must’ve been told I’m a hothead, but they didn’t count on how close-lipped I can be when it serves my purposes. It’s only when they transfer me to a holding cell and one of them gleefully holds up a copy of an overnight tabloid that they finally get through to me.
The headline reads: “Pro MMA Fighter Jase Rawlins’s Underhanded Tactics.” Beneath it, there’s a photo of Lena and I from the fundraiser. I’m holding her close, my lips touching her ear. The picture leaves no doubt we’re an item. As I scan the text, a writhing ball of fury grows in my stomach. It goes on to say how I screwed my way into getting a prestigious public relations firm to help sweep abuse allegations under the carpet, and how I’d doubled down on general assholery by seducing my opponent’s ex-girlfriend to throw him off balance.
“It’s not fucking true,” I growl, stalking across the cell and kicking the bench seat. “Lena has nothing to do with this shit.”
“Doesn’t look that way to me,” the officer counters with a taunting smile. He’s loving this. One of the bad boys of MMA is under his control, and it’s probably the best thing that’s happened in his pathetic life. He turns the tabloid and cocks his head, checking out the photo. “She’s a hot piece of ass. Bet it wasn’t a hardship to tap that.”
Without thinking, I lunge forward, gripping the bars and spewing a stream of profanities, ending with, “Don’t you fucking look at her. Don’t think about her. Stay the fuck away from her, or I’ll rip you to shreds.”
Smirking, the officer backs off. “Might want to get that temper under control, buddy. Judges don’t look too kindly on violent assholes with anger management problems. Especially ones who threaten law enforcement professionals.” He gestures to a camera in the corner. One I hadn’t noticed was there.
“Fuck off.” Sinking onto the bench, I bury my face in my hands. How the hell has it come to this? I thought everything had turned around. That the worst of it was over. But this shit is just gettin
g started, and I’ve dragged Lena down with me.
I curse and stomp around, feeling utterly helpless. I’ve screwed everything up for her. Lena’s professional reputation is more important to her than anything else, and now I’ve muddied it. Will that company she was so excited about even take a second glance at her after I’ve tainted her?
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, knowing she can’t hear me but hoping she knows, nonetheless. “So goddamned sorry, cutie pie.”
What had she told me the other day? She didn’t like the limelight. Well, she’d be getting plenty of it now.
I’m ruining her life.
Lena believed in me. For the first time, someone other than my brothers from the gym had complete faith in me, and I dumped this mess on her. I should’ve known I could never have someone as good and sassy and witty as her. I don’t deserve her, and now the universe is balancing itself out.
The best thing I can do for Lena is to stay away.
16
Lena
I’ve been in the office for long enough to fix a cup of coffee and switch my computer on when Adrian sweeps in, dressed all in black with a grim expression. Uh-oh. This can’t be good.
“LaFontaine,” he barks, his chest puffed up with self-importance. Whatever he has to say, it must be serious, because he hardly ever calls me by my last name unless he’s about to dump a shit sandwich in my lap. I resist the urge to salute and stand at attention, instead straightening my skirt and meeting his burning gaze. Jeez, something has put a bee in his bonnet.
“What is it, Adrian?”
“Jase Rawlins has been arrested.”
My heart pounds in my ears, and I’m pretty sure I’ve misheard him. Pressing my palm to my chest to calm the wild hammering, I ask him to repeat himself.
“You heard me,” he says, closing the door behind him. Dread creeps up my spine. This is bad. Really bad. He approaches me with the kind of slow, rolling walk that might be menacing if he were taller or broader. “I don’t know how you possibly made things worse, but congratulations, you did.” His eyes narrow. “Is this your way of getting back at me because you didn’t want him as a client?”