by Tia Lewis
Okay so maybe this was fate after all. “I-I can explain.”
Paul Watts towered over me, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression, not the friendliest I had hoped for. “Were you trying to break in?”
I swallowed, glad that it was dark so he couldn’t see the evidence of my stupid idea on the ground next to me. “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call it breaking in.”
“Really? Then what were you doing? Spying through the keyhole?”
I grimaced. It really did sound as bad as I thought. “Listen, I—”
He looked down at me, and I was momentarily struck dumb. This man was too good-looking for his own good. Even angry, his strong jawline was enough to make little flutters go off in my stomach. And those arms, I was a sucker for strong arms. “I already told you, lady, I am not interested in your little charity deal. I have more important things to do.”
I pushed myself off the asphalt as he turned to go, ignoring the fact that my jeans were literally soaked through with the dirty water. “Please, I really need your help. I’ll do anything.”
He looked back at me, one brow arched. “Really? I wouldn’t have taken you for being that desperate. You rich folks will do anything to get what you want.”
I frowned. “What? No, not that.” What did he mean by desperate? Really? I mean I enjoyed maybe just a little too much food, but I wasn’t horrible looking. But he was probably used to models and the like, blonde-haired bimbos with big boobs. The boobs I had. “And I should take offense to that statement.”
“Do whatever you like with it,” he chuckled, the mere sound of him doing something other than yelling at me heating my blood. I needed to pull it together. I wasn’t here to make a match; I was here to get a fighter. “Just don’t bother me anymore. Got it? I’m not interested. I don’t know how many times I need to say it. Just stop before I really have to call the cops.”
“Please,” I started as he turned to go back inside, my mind racing with concern that I might not be able to talk him into this. “I’ll pay you.”
He stopped and looked back at me. “What?”
I knew I had his attention now. Why didn’t I think about this before? Because I’d never had to pay someone for charity. Well, I would foot the money myself if it meant making this a successful charity event. I had too much riding on this. “I’ll pay you for your time.”
He looked away, his throat working and I knew he was thinking about it. Everyone had a price; I just hoped my amount was going to be enough for him. “How much? I’m not gonna do this for a few hundred bucks.”
I sucked in a breath, quickly calculating what I was spending already on the event. If he was going to be my main attraction and my winning fighter, I needed to do whatever it took to get him to bite. “I’ll pay you fifty thousand dollars and any expenses.”
His eyes widened, and I knew I had shocked him. It was a lot of money for a few promotional appearances and a match that no doubt wouldn’t last over a few minutes. But the ticket prices and the sit-down dinner gala that was going to precede the ball was going to bring in a heck of a lot of money for the charity and I could afford to let go of fifty thousand of my own money to make this happen. “Fifty thousand,” he finally said.
I nodded, attempting to look confident. “Yep. I’ll give you half now and half when you do the match, win or lose.”
“You think I am going to lose?”
I almost burst into laughter at the look on his face, the surprise in his voice that I would even suggest something such as that confirming the fact that he had a massive ego that needed to be stroked. That and I needed to make sure that he was up to the task of beating my brother. “I’m just saying that I won’t hold any of the money back unless you do not attend the required promotional appearances. I’ll have to get you to sign a contract of course.”
Paul looked at me and narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch, I just need those things, and the money is yours.” I wanted to add the begging and pleading onto it, but I knew if I had a chance, this was the only one he was going to jump on. It was clear he didn’t want me any other way after his comment earlier, which still stung. I would drown my sorrows later in mint chocolate chip ice cream.
“I’ll think about it.”
The words were so soft I nearly didn’t catch them at first. “What?”
He cleared his throat, the frown marring his handsome face once more. “I said I’ll think about it.”
I tried not to look happy, but inside I was dying to let out a yell. I should have tried the whole money thing a long time ago with him. “Of course. I need an answer really soon, though.”
Paul nodded. “I’ll have you one soon.”
“Great, I mean I look forward to your answer. If you have any questions.” He shut the door in my face before I could get another word out, but I didn’t care. He was going to take it. I had seen the gleam in his eye and imagined that the money was probably too good to pass up. I had heard through the grapevine that the gym had gotten into some financial trouble a while back, which was why they had the exhibition match that ultimately led me to this point, which proved that these guys weren’t any type of money makers by any means.
Wiping my hands on my jeans, I winced as the cold seeped through them, reminding me that I had a wet rear end that I was going to have to ride home on. Still, I had a kick in my step as I picked up my belongings and walked one street over to where my car was parked, a grin on my face. I had done it. I had roped in Paul Watts. Persistence and a heck of a lot of money had paid off, and I was looking at a very successful charity event in the making. Jarred was going down.
5
Paul
Fifty grand. I was still mulling over that amount when I walked into the gym the next afternoon, my head hurting from too much beer the night before. Well, that and the lack of sleep from having some random woman go home with me. I still couldn’t remember her name, but damn, she could do things in the bedroom that I hadn’t seen before, and I had slept like a log afterward.
Pushing open the door to the conference room on the second floor, I saw that all the guys were already there, laughing and joking amongst themselves sans Tony, who was still on his honeymoon. These guys were like my second family, all of them fighters and very understanding of the pitfalls of the sport. Hell, we all loved the sport, and any chance to stay close to it was the goal. Benji still fought in the current circuit, shooting for a title match sometime soon and Travis had just gotten back into the cage full time, giving it another go. Tony had tried to do the same, but in the end, I think Hannah had coaxed him to stay retired. Me, well I just wasn’t sure. There were days I wanted to get into that cage so badly I could taste it, and then there were days that I was content with the sidelines, knowing I was never going to be the same fighter I had been five, even ten years ago. My body was starting to rebel against the top shape I was trying to keep it in day in and day out.
“Dude, it’s about time,” Benji remarked as I dropped into one of the leather chairs. “Heard you were out at the bar last night.”
“Damn gossipers,” I said with a wave of my hand. “So what? At least I still get out.”
Benji held up his hands. “Hey, no argument from me. We are the only two left.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Travis growled, looking at both of us. “You saying I can’t hang anymore?”
“I’m saying you are ball and chained and you aren’t even married yet,” Benji shot back with a grin. “Face it, man. You are whipped.”
Travis grinned. “Talk all you want. At least I have a woman in my bed every night.”
“You have one woman in your bed,” I joked. “I have two.”
“Shot down!” Benji laughed, giving me a high five. “Dude that was awesome.”
Travis shot me the bird, and I chuckled, some of the weight lifted off my shoulders by just this banter. Hell, we all knew that Travis was one lucky bastard to have Julia and she was o
ne hell of a cook. I had noticed that Travis had been hitting the cardio a lot lately, the effects of a good woman who liked to cook starting to get to him. Between her and Hannah’s damn bakery goods, we were all going to be fat fighters eventually. “So we gonna get this meeting started or what? Some of us have things to do.”
Travis pulled out a few sheets of paper, flinging them at us. “So, I wanted to show you the numbers since the exhibition match. Margins are looking good, attendance is up, so we made a difference.”
Benji sat back in his chair, poring over the papers. Though Benji was a jokester most of the time, he was all business when it came to this place. It was his baby, his idea that he had gotten us all involved in. “This does look good. I’m surprised we’ve seen this much growth.”
“Yeah, me too,” Travis said. “And when Tony gets back, we should be able to look at the expansion ideas again.”
I nodded, looking at the numbers though they didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. We had talked a while back about expanding the place, building another section and adding another couple of cages. It seemed like a solid idea, but everyone wanted to think about it and look at the finances first. I know I couldn’t put any more money in with having to pay for Matt’s treatments right now, but the last thing I wanted to do was be the one that held the guys back or the guy who couldn’t pull his own weight. It was like a catch twenty-two.
Travis told us the rest of the report, but I didn’t listen, my own internal struggles getting the best of me. I hated being in this position. I hated not having enough money to go around. Before I knew it, the meeting was adjourned, and the guys were filing out. “Benji,” I called out. “Can we talk for a moment?”
Travis gave us a wave and shut the door, leaving us in the conference room. “What’s up man?” Benji asked after a moment, propping himself up against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.
I sighed and rubbed a hand over my face, my head pounding. “Listen, Benji, I can’t put up any more money for the expansion.” I hated to even be saying something like this to him, after the opportunities he had given me.
He waved me off. “Come on Paul, how long have we known each other? I don’t expect the guys to put up the money. Sure you have a stake in the place, but the expansion is my idea. I’ll be funding it.”
Inwardly I let out a sigh of relief. “You know I would help if I could.”
He smirked. “You’re too noble Paul. Shit man I know you would. What’s going on with you anyway?”
“It’s my brother, he’s got cancer.”
Benji’s smirk slid off his face. “Damn, I’m sorry Paul. I really am. If you need anything, money, whatever, let me know.”
Surprise rolled through me at Benji’s generous offer. Hell, I could use the money, but I wasn’t about taking it from my friends. They had their own bills to pay for, their own families to support. “I, thanks, man but I’m good. Actually, I have a plan.” I was going to have to take the woman’s offer on the charity match. Fifty thousand was more money than I would see in a few months’ time now that I wasn’t actively fighting.
“Good,” Benji said, though his expression clearly showed that he didn’t believe me. “But you will ask me if you need anything, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks, man. Ready for a round in the cage?”
Benji’s grin was quick. “Thought you would never ask.”
Hours later, I wiped the sweat pouring down my face and neck with my towel, a grin on my face. Benji and I had gone several rounds in the cage before I had worked with the new cocky fighter some more, surprised to see the progress he had made. Maybe he had been listening after all. His punches were better, his focus a hell of a lot better. He could become a fighter before this was all over with if he stayed on this path.
Benji walked over to the bench, also drenched with sweat. “Hey man, I’m gonna hit the showers and then head over to the bar for a drink. You wanna come?”
I thought for a moment. I really shouldn’t, not after last night. I should take my ass home and take a long hot shower, get some sleep before I went to my charity woman and sold my soul for a couple of weeks. “Yeah, I will.”
“Good,” Benji grinned, slapping me on the back before walking off, whistling. I grabbed my stuff and hit the showers, spending just a few moments wiping off the sweat and grit before dressing and meeting Benji at the door. Together we walked over to the hole in the wall bar that was famous in the fighting circuit, mainly because it was run by a former fighter himself. Jim was an ornery old guy who had nothing fancy in the bar himself, but he could give some advice when one needed it and pour a mean beer, which was all most cared about.
I pushed open the door, the familiar sights, sounds, and smells of the bar hitting me full force as we walked into the small place. As usual, Jim had some local band up on the stage, belting out cover songs and a full place, peanut shells crunching under my shoes as I walked over to the only remaining spot at the bar. “Scorpion,” Jim called out, using my cage name as he waved me over. I didn’t know how he did it, but Jim knew all our cage names, making sure that our picture was up on his wall somewhere. “Come back for more?”
“You know it,” I said. “Can I get a beer?”
“I want a bourbon and coke,” Benji chimed in, slapping the bar. “And keep them coming. I feel like singing tonight!”
“Shit,” I said as Benji walked off into the crowd. Benji couldn’t carry a fucking tune to save his hide. “Can you get him drunk faster?”
“I wish,” Jim muttered as he went off to fix Benji’s drink. I shook my head and looked around the bar, seeing some familiar faces that were permanent fixtures in the bar. I went to turn back, but a dark head caught my eye, a face that looked wholly out of place here. Shit. Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell was she doing here?
6
Sarah
He saw me. I ignored the butterflies in my stomach as I drew in a breath, not too sure I had made a good choice coming here tonight by the look on his face. He didn’t look too pleased to see me. I had given him twelve hours to get back to me about the charity match, and I was running out of time. So, I had tracked him down. Well, not necessarily him. After a few well-placed calls, a perk of having a powerful father, I had found out that this was a hotspot for fighters and taken a chance. Looks like it had paid off, but I hoped not at the cost I would be crying about later. His glare alone was enough to curdle milk.
Blowing out that breath, I walked over to the bar, pushing my way through the crowd of people singing along with the band. I had never really been a big bar scene type person, growing up at cotillions and private school dances or events that my parents would drag me to. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t even experience my first drink outside of a glass of champagne until I was in college. It was a sad state of existence.
So, now I cautiously approached my brooding fighter, hoping that he had the answer I was looking for. “Hey, can I buy you a drink?”
“I can buy my own drinks.”
“Don’t they taste better when they are free?”
He looked at me, and I secretly hoped I could be the recipient of one of the quick grins he had on his face when he had walked through the door. I wanted him to like me. I wanted him to trust me just a little. I really had good intentions about this charity match, and I wasn’t planning on screwing him over. I wanted it to be successful, and I wanted, dammit, for him to like me. Was that too much to ask? “I don’t need free ones,” he finally said darkly as a beer appeared before him.
“Scorpion, I didn’t know you were with anyone tonight other than pansy boy over there.”
Scorpion? Now that had to be an interesting story.
“I’m not,” Paul replied, shooting the bartender a glare that could harden water. “But she needs a beer anyway.”
“I’m Jimmy,” the bartender said, holding out his hand to me, a friendly grin on his face. “And am nowhere near as cold as this guy here.”
“Sarah,” I replied, giving him a smile in return as I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he said with a wink. “I’ll get that beer for you.”
I wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but I didn’t try to stop him either, settling on the stool next to Paul. Despite the range of smells that was in this place, there was no mistaking the spicy scent of Paul next to me, the dizzy aroma scattering my well-placed thoughts. It had been far too long since I had been with anyone apparently if the smell of a man was nearly driving me insane.
“I guess you are wanting an answer.”
“I am,” I said, hoping my voice wasn’t trembling too much. “But first, I want to hear about scorpion.”
Paul looked over at me, and I gave him a smile, not wanting him to see me as his enemy. I wasn’t, after all, I was giving him fifty grand. That should be enough for us to be friends of some sort. Plus, he intrigued me.
“It’s my cage name.”
I almost fell off the stool, his words barely discernible over the loud music. “Cage name?”
He shrugged, gripping his beer with his hand. “We all have them. Mine was because of a stupid bet when I was eighteen.”
Intrigued even more now, I leaned over toward him. “Well, you can’t leave the story there. Do tell.” I swore a ghost of a grin appeared on his face though his mouth never moved and I felt the first flare of hope.
Paul looked down at his beer, taking a sip as I waited patiently to hear the story, my heart beating loudly in my ears. It also gave me a chance to look at him up close, the scruff on that strong jawline willing me to reach out and feel it under my fingers. His shoulders were so broad under his t-shirt, and idly I wondered what he would look like up close without a shirt on. Gah, I was way too involved in the way he looked right now.
“It was after my first match, the first true one I won that was on the books. The trainer told me I had to come up with a name, something catchy. I thought about it, got drunk with some of the other fighters, and went to a tattoo parlor.”