Out for the Count
Page 30
If Huntley had courage in spades, her cup was running over when it came to natural instincts. Jesus, hadn’t she managed him, a guy that to most was untouchable, with a hard head, a sharp tongue and the ability to intimidate even the most hardened criminals? Huntley dodged everything he’d thrown at her, moving around all the blockades he’d erected around himself and his fucked-up psyche, and had gotten through with a blow to end all blows—one straight to his heart.
Yeah, she had killer natural instincts. And now, with his help, the well-rounded skills to back it up.
Bracken relaxed his shoulders, then his fists.
Huntley’s lips lifted.
In a downright ballsy move, she raised her right foot so her toes balanced on the mat. Insurance the big looming blockhead wouldn’t miss it.
Sergei’s eyes lit up. Nope. Message received. He was anticipating a kick.
Game on.
She lifted her leg, Sergei relaxed his shoulders, his arms.
Dropping her leg and planting both feet firmly on the ground, and with her full weight behind her, she swung. Her arm extended, her body twisted into it, and everything she’d been striving to achieve seemed to be rolled into one hell of a perfect punch.
A haymaker of almighty haymakers.
Her fist connected with Sergei’s jaw. The giant’s eyes rolled upward and back as he hit the floor.
Bracken felt like cheering. Hell, Aiden was shouting up a storm from across the room. But he had to take care of Sergei first. Calmly he strode over to them, grabbed the Russian by the collar and clocked him square beneath the jaw, making absolutely sure the asshole was out for the count.
The bell rang out a sweet melody. Aiden’s doing, but Bracken only had eyes for Huntley.
He stood there, staring at her, knowing his life was forever changed, his hands quaking along with his heart. “Way to go, Huntley,” he murmured. “Way to go, my love.”
“What?” she asked, a stricken look on her face. He should go to her and take the few steps, narrow the distance between them. But didn’t trust his legs to move. Man, he’d battled it out with the fiercest perpetrators but when it came to Huntley, the fight had gone out of him.
“What did you call me?”
“You heard me all right.”
“You said ‘my love.’”
“Yep. I fucking love you. Got it?”
The look on her face was priceless. Yeah, she got it all right. But just to make sure, he did take a step forward, and taking her in his arms, said it again. “I love you, Creampuff.”
Epilogue
New Year’s Eve, Las Vegas
“Your gal is going to win this thing,” Caden hollered. His brother knew a thing or two about winning a fight, having proven himself in the cage and having won last year’s championship, Tetnus. Funny thing was, it wasn’t the only thing he ended up winning. Strange how such a brutal sport tended to bring a man to his knees when it came to women.
Bracken simply grinned, then nodded. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Huntley—and nothing beat that feeling of pride swelling up inside his chest at her skill. Beauty in motion.
“Good instincts, smarts. Nothing sexier than a good-looking woman packing a wallop.”
“Like this?” Sophie sweetly asked before sending an elbow into Caden’s stomach. “How’s that for sexy, Sugarbuns?”
Caden chuckled and Bracken grunted at the lovebirds’ antics. Folding his arms across his leather jacket, his eyes tracked the woman dominating the cage. The one about to win her first MMA championship. The same woman who’d knocked him off his feet the first time her knuckles connected with his jaw. “A love tap,” he’d called it. Little did he know truer words had never been spoken.
Huntley was jogging in place, giving her opponent time to climb back onto her feet after receiving a cross punch to end all cross punches. A kind gesture. A mercy move.
A move she’d been trying to teach him for the last few months.
Starting with Stefan, who learned not to fuck with a female fighter, and then learned a harder lesson in why you never screw over your partner. A fellow cop, a biker, a man who’d finally come to terms with himself. A man who had much more to risk than his own life.
It was Huntley who saved Stefan from multiple broken bones, standing silently by Bracken’s side in the storage closet as he beat the living daylights out of the thieving drug dealer until she’d softly demanded he stop. Too kindhearted, his woman.
Though her kindness only went so far. She’d turned mute while he’d issued a couple of swift kicks to Robert.
“Pretty soon you’ll be needing to build an extension on that cabin of yours, Bracken,” Sophie interrupted, cutting into his thoughts. “Room to display more of your plaques.”
“Goddamned firewood,” he simply replied. He didn’t know what was worse, the formal apology I.A. had issued through gritted teeth or the bells and whistles that’d followed. His department had gotten in one last dig: a ceremony honoring him for his dedication, hard-work, and courage in the face of adversity. For making the department look like rock stars instead of criminals, for nailing the biggest bust in a decade without bloodshed—well, without gun wounds, anyway. The P.R. department had spun the story, saying that Bracken had been hell-bent on rooting out the criminal in their midst, and through his relentlessness, had done just that. He bet his pal Truman had had a good laugh at his expense over all the freakin’ fuss. A cooperative effort, the DEA had called it. For once in known history, they’d shared the credit.
As for Stefan, Internal Affairs finally found the perfect poster child for what happens when a cop turns bad, bashed-in face and all. They acted swiftly, with Numbnuts receiving a loss in wages and pension, criminal charges with high bail—the judge clearly not happy with a cop turned bad either. Things were looking pretty bleak for Numbnuts, with years of jail time ahead of him. Yep, the little fucker’s sense of appreciation for women might change after all.
Bracken didn’t believe for one second those pencil-pushing suits had forgotten his historic breaches in conduct, just glossed over them for the time being. Gave Bracken time to focus on other things...like the beauty who just nailed her opponent with a cross kick to the kidney.
Caden leaned in closer. “Huntley said her winnings from this fight will be invested in her family’s business. You know, Ultimate American Male is in the market for a new body. Male, female, whatever sells. What do you think about seeing your woman’s ass on billboards across the country?”
“Not happening.”
He caught Caden’s wink. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” A ball-buster to the first degree.
Ignoring his brother’s knowing smirk, Bracken turned his attention back to Huntley’s opponent, who’d finally stopped swaying on her feet. A tough, courageous featherweight in her own right—just not tough enough to beat Creampuff.
Huntley nodded, and her opponent advanced, jumped and swung her foot high. Grabbing her by the leg, Huntley pulled her forward, off-balance, then turned and worked her into a classic heel hook.
She took it down to the mat, pinning her opponent and applying pressure to the woman’s heel, a move in which every MMA fighter could attest hurt like hell.
The crowd pumped their fists, cheering her on. “One. Two. Three,” they counted.
Her opponent’s hand tapped the mat.
“Shit, Bracken. Without that beard, and with that enormous grin, maybe you should approach Ultimate American Male about a contract.”
“Fuck off. I’ve got better things to do with my time,” he replied, already striding toward the stairs.
Huntley was breathing hard, her chest heaving in her tiny pink top, though her legs were steady in her short, pink training pants. Man, he’d never seen anyone so beautiful, inside and out. With her hands on her hips, she sea
rched the arena. Looking, for him.
Off to his right, a security guard warned, “You can’t go inside the...”
Bracken ignored him. Nothing and no one was going to stop him from claiming the best, most precious part of him.
Her eyes settled on him. She smiled and cocked her head. “Who’s talking about a little ole Creampuff now?”
He grinned.
Yeah, she was the woman for him, all right. When it came to loving Huntley, Bracken was absolutely, profoundly out for the count.
* * * * *
About the Author
Michele Mannon believes life would be incredibly dull without an endless assortment of books and a good sports match on television—preferably with shirtless men (which is, by the way, her inspiration for writing a debut series featuring hot and oh-so-muscular MMA fighters).
Michele lives in central New Jersey where she divides her time between writing sexy and sassy contemporary sports-themed romances, laughing with her family and caring for not one but three heartless cats. Michele loves hearing from readers, so please visit her on the web at www.michelemannon.com.
Hooked on Michele Mannon’s MMA romances?
Don’t miss Knock Out and Tap Out, available now!
Knock Out
Available now!
Logan Rettino never imagined she’d fall so far. Dropped by her ex on national TV, she’s gone from prima ballerina to ring card girl, reduced to revving up the crowds before MMA bouts. However distasteful she finds her new job, it pays well…and she needs the money if she’s ever going to rebuild her life. Promised a huge bonus if she can convince a brooding, gifted welterweight to keep fighting, she’ll do whatever it takes to earn his trust.
Keane O’Shea is unbeatable in the octagon. A former marine, he fights with a ruthlessness no gym jockey can match. He knows his brutal strength is too much for the delicate ex-ballerina, regardless of how fascinating he finds Logan’s tight dancer’s body. But one private performance and he’s drawn to her in a way he can’t—or won’t—resist.
As Logan discovers the heartbreaking truth that lies beneath this handsome warrior’s rage, she’ll need to forfeit everything she thought mattered for the one thing that matters the most: saving Keane from himself.
Tap Out
Late-night shock jock Sophie Morelle has been fired, dumped by her network after an embarrassing incident cost them big bucks. But she knows just how to get back on her feet—by filming a raw, gritty documentary about MMA fighters, starring the hottest welterweight around. The only problem? He’s the one responsible for ruining her life.
MMA-champion-turned-model Caden Kelly is hell-bent on reestablishing himself as the best fighter in the country. He’d been on a roll, too, until that loudmouth reporter hit him in the head with a camera on national TV. The headaches he’s suffered since are nothing compared to the one he gets when she shows up, seeking an exclusive. That Sophie’s gorgeous is undeniable…but she’s also the most infuriating woman he’s ever met.
Stepping into the ring with Caden Kelly is not for the faint of heart, but Sophie’s never been the delicate type. This champion may have finally met his match—both in and out of the bedroom.
Catch up with Michele Mannon online for romance that packs a punch—visit MicheleMannon.com
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ISBN-13: 9781426899003
Out for the Count
Copyright © 2014 by Michele M. Mahon
Edited by Kerri Buckley
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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