Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3)

by Melynda Price

  If only it were true . . .

  So here’s the thing, Ray. I have to be in the city for a meeting with my manager in the morning.”

  The smile on her face plummeted, and his heart dropped with it. She thought he was going to bail on her. Witnessing her disappointment was worse than Disco’s sucker punch to the gut. Shit, he couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t leave her with his mom and sister, even if it were just to run into the city for a meeting. Drive time included, he’d lose half a day with her.

  “That’s okay,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze to her hands folded tightly in her lap. “I understand . . .”

  This kid could gut him with just a look. “No, sweetheart, I don’t think you do. I’m taking you with me. If you want to come, that is. But then you’re not going to get to see Grandma, Val, or the girls—”

  The smile on her face could rival the brightest star. “Really? I can come with you? Oh, wow, I’ve always wanted to go to Vegas. We can stay at your place, and I can see where you live. Maybe we can go to one of those fancy shows or something. I’ve always wanted to see Cirque du Soleil. You can show me your gym where you train. Oh, my gosh, do you think any of the other fighters will be there? I watch CFA Unchained all the time!”

  “You do?” He hadn’t realized Raven was a fan. There weren’t a lot of girls who were into MMA, especially fourteen-year-old girls. Or so he thought . . .

  “Hecks yeah, Regan ‘Rapscallion’ Matthews is sooo hot!”

  “He is?” Nikko shot his daughter a wary scowl, sharing his time between watching the road and witnessing his daughter fan-girling all over Willow’s boyfriend.

  “He totally is!” she gushed. “I think he’s the number one contender for the welterweight title.”

  Seriously? He looked at Raven like Who are you and what did you do with my daughter?

  She let out a nervous laugh and tucked a chunk of straight black hair behind her ear. “Quit looking at me like that, Dad. Jeez . . .”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m a freak or something.”

  “I’m not,” he denied, deciding he’d better just keep his eyes on the road. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t know you followed MMA. Or that Matthews was . . . hot.”

  “Well, he is. And of course I follow it. Why wouldn’t I? It’s what you do.”

  He chanced another glance and found her nervously picking at the polish on her nails. She added, so quietly he barely heard her, “It makes me feel closer to you.”

  His heart couldn’t be more shredded if someone had ripped it out of his chest and put it through a meat grinder. “Ray . . .” His voice sounded rough as gravel. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t any good at this kind of shit. For lack of anything better to do, he slipped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her into his shoulder, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

  “I love you, Ray. You know that, right?” The words tumbled out easier than he’d expected them to. “I know I haven’t always been there for you. But I’m trying. Just be patient with me, okay?”

  She nodded.

  Needing to change the conversation before the knot in his gut completely revolted, he ruffled her hair playfully and said, “You know, I think you’re wrong about one thing.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she smiled, looking up at him. “What’s that?”

  “About Matthews being the number one contender for the welterweight title. He’s going to have to get past ‘Killer’ Scott first, and that guy is one hell of a fighter.”

  At nine a.m. sharp Nikko pulled into the parking lot of Miller MMA and cut the engine. He sat there staring at the front doors of the gym, wondering what the hell had ever made him think that bringing Ray here was a good idea. He was going soft, that was the problem. He’d spent his entire life disappointing her, and he just didn’t have the heart to see that look in her eyes one more time. But the thought of bringing her inside sat like a lead weight in his gut. At least it was Saturday and the gym wouldn’t be quite as busy. He’d always made it a rule never to mix his professional life with his personal one, and the idea of doing so now made him edgy as hell.

  “You all right, Dad?”

  “Sure.” He glanced at Raven and shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Damn, that kid was perceptive.

  “Because you look . . . pissed off.”

  His scowl deepened. “I always look like this, and what’s with the language?”

  Raven rolled her eyes. “Thanks for bringing me. I know this is no big deal for you. But I, for one, am so freaking excited, I can hardly stand it. You think I’ll see anyone I recognize?”

  “Maybe.”

  Raven threw open her door and scrambled out. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

  Nikko chuckled, watching his daughter waving at him to hurry up. He smiled, trying to remember ever being this excited about seeing someone—other than Ray, that is. Clover immediately came to mind. Yeah, she did that for him . . .

  With an exhaled sigh, he climbed out of the car, following his skipping, chatting teen up to the double doors of the gym. “This is sooo cool,” she gushed. “Rebecca is never going to believe me when I tell her about this place.”

  Ray pulled her phone out of her pocket and snapped a selfie next to the Miller MMA sign. He chuckled, shaking his head as he opened the door for his daughter to enter. She flashed him a giddy grin and shot past him.

  “Wow . . .” She took her time walking down the hall, looking at the posters of all the fighters lining the wall, pointing out the ones she recognized. “There’s Disco, and Rapscallion, and the Beast of the East . . . Oh, my, who’s this one? I haven’t seen him before.”

  He stopped in front of the fighter, not appreciating that spark of interest in his daughter’s eyes. “That’s Kyle ‘The Killer’ Scott. The fighter I mentioned yesterday. He’s in contention with Rapscallion for the welterweight title.”

  “He’s really hot . . .”

  “Stop it.” Nikko cuffed her shoulder. “You’re not supposed to be noticing those things.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m almost fifteen, Dad. Of course I notice guys.”

  “Well, this one’s too old for you, so quit it. Besides, don’t you have a boyfriend already?”

  She shot him a surprised look. “Who told you that? I don’t have a—Mom . . .” She answered her own question. “Grant isn’t my boyfriend. We’re just friends, that’s all. Just because she has guys panting after her all the time doesn’t mean I’m a whore, too.”

  “Raven, don’t talk about your mom like that.”

  Her face squished into a scowl. “Why not? It’s true. She’s the reason you left.”

  Ah, hell . . . This was not the place he wanted to be having this conversation. It was obvious his girl was carrying around a lot of resentment toward her mother, but now was not the time to start hashing it out. He was about to tell her they were going to have to table this conversation for a more appropriate place when God had mercy on him.

  “Look, Dad, there you are!”

  Raven darted down the hall and stopped in front of his poster. He walked over and stood beside her, unable to help smiling at the pride shining in his girl’s eyes. It’d been a long time since anyone had looked at him with that kind of devotion—deserved or not.

  “I officially have the most awesome dad, ever!” She slipped her arms around his waist and squeezed. “I know I already said it, but thanks for bringing me with you.”

  “You’re welcome, Ray.” Nikko slipped his arms around his little girl and gave her a squeeze. He stared at his poster, trying to look at it from her perspective, but all he could see was a man who’d failed—failed to complete his mission, failed his team, failed to keep his best friend alive, failed to keep his family together . . .

  It didn’t matter how many fights he’d won in the cage, or how many posters featured his scarred face, claiming him a champion. It didn’t change the past. It didn’t change what he’d done. Not
hing ever would.

  “Come on, Ray. I’m going to be late.”

  He didn’t mean to sound so gruff. She cast him a questioning glance as he led her into the gym, searching for Willow. Her car was in the parking lot so he knew she was here—somewhere. Maybe she wouldn’t mind letting Ray hang with her while he was in his meeting.

  They’d taken less than twenty steps when Nikko was assaulted with: “Holy. Fucking. Shit!”

  He sent Kill a dark glare, warning him to watch his mouth as he cupped his hands over his daughter’s ears.

  “Dad!” she hissed in mortification, batting his hands away. “I’m not two!”

  Kill exited the cage where he’d been sparring with Regan. The dude was hot on his heels, both guys wearing shit-eating grins plastered across their “hot” mugs and not a whole hell of a lot else. For the millionth time, Nikko questioned his brilliance in allowing Ray to come with him. It wasn’t until the two sweaty, half-naked men were standing before his blushing daughter, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, that he wanted to slam his forehead into his palm.

  How in the hell had it not occurred to him that he probably shouldn’t be dragging his fourteen-year-old daughter around a bunch of partially dressed guys? Wow, could he be any worse at this father shit? Honestly . . .

  “Who is this adorable little thing?” Kyle asked, pulling his hand out of his open-mitt glove and tucking it beneath his arm before extending his paw toward Nikko’s daughter. Nikko’s hands clenched at his sides, and it took all his self-control not to bat that hand away.

  “This is Ray,” he grumbled in introduction.

  “—ven,” she added, shooting her dad a scowl before giving Kill her hand along with her most beautiful smile, which should have been reserved for only him.

  What the fuck?

  “Ra-ven,” she clarified.

  “My daughter,” Nikko added with a low warning growl.

  “Holy hell!” Kill exclaimed, dropping her hand like she’d burned him and taking a giant step back.

  Yeah, keep on backing up, buddy . . .

  Regan choked on a snorted laugh. If it’d been anyone else’s kid, Nikko would be laughing his ass off, too. But this was definitely not funny. Maybe he should have warned them he was coming in with her, told them to be on their best behavior. Matthews seemed to recover from the shock first and stepped in front of Scott, cutting him off.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Raven. I’m Regan Matthews.”

  She took his hand and her blush brightened.

  “She knows who you are,” he grumbled. “She watches you on Unchained.”

  “Daaad . . .” she hissed under her breath, throwing an elbow into his ribs.

  He grunted and Kill laughed. “Looks like she’s a striker, Del Toro. Just like her old man. Get a set of gloves on this one and we’ll put her in the cage and see what she can do. You know Coach is scouting for some female talent.”

  “Are you out of your mind? And for the love of God, will you two go put some clothes on? Where is Willow?” he barked, glancing around the gym, looking for someone he could trust to watch over his baby girl while he was in his meeting.

  “I’m right here, Nikko. You don’t have to yell—Oh, hi! What’s your name?” Willow came around the corner, pushing a laundry bin on wheels. She parked it a few feet away and came over to join the welcome party.

  “Raven,” his daughter introduced herself, shaking Willow’s hand.

  “My name’s Willow. It’s nice to meet you. I’m this lug’s sister.” She slapped the back of her hand into Kill’s chest. “How do you know Nikko?”

  “He’s my dad.”

  Shock briefly flashed in her eyes, but she was quick to recover herself. “Well, it’s great to meet you, Raven.”

  “I have a meeting with Coach in a few minutes. You mind hanging with her, Willow? Show her around and stuff?”

  “Of course not. Come on, you can help me throw these towels in the laundry, and then I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  “You work here?” Raven asked, following after Willow, who was making her way toward the weight room.

  “Yep, since I was sixteen. It’s hard work, but the job’s got its perks, if you know what I mean . . .” She nudged Raven with her elbow, and his daughter began laughing.

  Raven opened the door and held it for Willow to pass through. “Hey, Dad, you think I could get a job here?” she called.

  “Not a chance, Ray.”

  She rolled her eyes and stepped through the door, letting it close behind them. He turned back to the fighters who were laughing their asses off.

  “Holy shit, man, your daughter is gorgeous,” Kill said.

  “She’s fourteen. Why the fuck are you laughing?”

  “Oh, there is a God! Dude . . . you are so screwed. I swear I thought she was legal.”

  “You need your goddamn eyes checked, asshole. If I were you, I wouldn’t be laughing.”

  “Oh, yeah? And why is that?”

  “Cuz your baby sister is legal.”

  Scott’s laughter abruptly died, and Nikko’s picked up where he left off. The dude looked ready to kill—hence his cage name. Regan shot Nikko a wary look and just shook his head.

  “Come on, dude. You think Willow is going to join a nunnery or something? How long do you think you’re going to be able to keep scaring off every guy that’s interested in her?”

  “You’re a dick,” Matthews growled.

  He slapped Kill on the back and made his way toward the offices. “Not so funny when that shit’s on the other foot, huh?”

  Where in the hell was Nikko? Violet shot an anxious glance at the surly faces gathered around the table, then at the clock hanging on the wall—9:10. He was late. She was about to pull out her cell and send him a quick text when the conference room door burst open and there he stood, filling the doorway. His gaze briefly locked on hers before quickly darting away.

  He didn’t look happy to see her, though that didn’t stop her heart from stuttering at the sight of him. What was it about this man that could flip her switch with just a look—a look that clearly wasn’t pleased. Feigning interest in the packet of papers in front of her, she prayed no one else would notice the tension crackling in the air between them or the sudden temperature spike in the room.

  “Nikko, glad you could join us,” his coach said, the man’s tone more clipped than she’d ever known it to be. “Come in.”

  Marcus Miller was the guy who helped put the CFA on the map, introducing world-class competitors into the sport of MMA. Even she knew who he was, and being on this man’s shit list was not where you wanted to be. What she wasn’t sure of was why Cole Easton was here. She thought this was a meeting to get Nikko’s sparring privileges back and that she’d been called here to report Nikko’s progress.

  “Sorry I’m late, Coach,” he mumbled, stepping into the room and offering no more excuse than that. He took a seat at the end of the table opposite her, with Marcus on his left and Easton on his right. Dean and the fight commissioner sat on either side of her.

  It was a table of somber, intimidating men, and Violet would be lying if she said she didn’t feel out of place.

  “I appreciate you all coming in to meet with me on such short notice. I know I haven’t been around as much as I’d like lately, but as you know, Cole and I have opened the first CFA-sponsored gym in Minnesota, and it’s taken some time to get it up and running. We’ve got some great talent coming out of there and one or two fighters I think might have the potential to turn pro. Anyway, as I continue to move toward retirement, I will be working closely with Easton, who will begin transitioning into taking over the business when I’m gone. Now, I don’t want anyone putting me in a pine box yet, but there are some changes coming our way that I think we need to discuss.

  “Del Toro, I’m going to be frank with you, son. You fucked not only yourself but this whole organization with that little stunt you pulled last week. The media is having a heyday with it and we n
eed to come up with a plan to do some damage control. I don’t want anyone sayin’ I can’t control my fighters. Fans are pissed you didn’t get that rematch with Kennedy, and the media is claiming you pulled that shit to get disqualified so you wouldn’t have to face him in the cage. No doubt Kennedy’s camp is to blame for those rumors, but now that they’re circulating, we’ve got to deal with them.”

  “Fuck . . .” Nikko snarled, his fist connecting with the table. Violet jumped at the loud bang that sent someone’s coffee sloshing over the rim.

  Easton tensed beside him, menace radiating off the guy like cologne. “Take it easy, Del Toro.” The low warning growl rumbled in this throat, but the message carried loud and clear across the table.

  And then it dawned on her why Easton was really at this meeting. He was here to step in if Nikko’s temper got the better of him and he lost control again. His own team didn’t trust him, and by the rage emanating from Nikko’s eyes right now, she could see why. He was furious, and intimidating as hell. Yet, for some unexplainable reason, she wasn’t afraid. In fact, more than anything she wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around him, and tell him everything was going to be all right. She willed him to look at her, inwardly pleading with him to focus on her and let her be his anchor.

  “Effective immediately, you’ll be working with one of our publicists. I expect full cooperation from you. Of course, we want to reschedule your fight and to ax these rumors. But in order to do that, we need to get you back in the spotlight with public appearances and interviews. We can’t do that until we’re sure you won’t have another repeat performance of last week. How do you feel things are going, Dr. Summers? When can we expect to get our boy back in the cage?”

  All eyes turned to her—including Nikko’s, the intensity of his stare burning into her. She wasn’t sure what they wanted her to say. Nikko had a long way to go to overcome his demons. It could take months, maybe even years, before they’d make the progress they were looking for. Problem was, she was not only staking Nikko’s reputation on him getting better, but her own as well. She didn’t want to do or say anything to potentially damage his career, nor did she want to make promises to these men she or Jim couldn’t keep. She honestly didn’t know how long it would take before Nikko could gain control of his rage blackouts. And she knew I don’t know was not the answer these men were looking for. Nothing about Nikko Del Toro was simple or predictable.