Conflict (Black Hearts MMA, #2)

by Kylie Hillman

  Steve shakes his head and offers my dry assessment a disbelieving chuckle. “I’m not sure how you got all that out of the five minutes you spent with her, but you couldn’t be more wrong.”

  Rolling my eyes, I take a seat in the closest chair. My radar for the Princess Bitch type is well-honed. I dealt with enough of them laughing at me when I was in High School to have their DNA code engraved on my soul as a permanent warning. “Whatever you say.”

  “Hey.” Steve holds his hands up like he’s surrendering. “I’m not gonna argue with you. As long as you don’t drag her into your seedy world, I’m happy.”

  I slump down in my chair, shifting until I’m comfortable, then I decide that it’s time to get down to business. All this talk of my party ways has reminded me that promising to stay away from Steve’s staff is the least of my worries. I have Hooligan’s fight and the girl from the grocery store to look forward to tonight—they’re more my style than hoity-toity bitches who think they’re better than me.

  “Enough of the shit talk. Do I have the job or not?”

  “It’s yours,” Steve replies immediately, then he pauses. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk and steepling his fingers under his chin. Worry clouds his eyes as he pins me to the spot. “On one proviso...”

  And, here we go. Why must everyone attach strings to their offers?

  “What?” I ask. My attitude is terse, and I sound more heated than I intended. It’s unfortunate, but I can’t always mask my emotions like a normal person. I need this job, so I dig deep and bury my annoyance. Once that’s done, I know I can cope. On the inside, I’ve frozen. Inside my soul is coiled like a snake as it waits to see if Steve’s condition warrants me striking back with anger or offering my gratitude.

  “I want you to let me take you pro.”

  Steve’s proposal hangs in the air. It makes the atmosphere of his office heavy; hanging like a double-edged sword over my head that promises everything I’ve always wanted but know I can’t have. Beads of sweat dampen my forehead. My breathing quickens—sharp and shallow—until I can’t manage to draw in enough oxygen to stop the room from spinning. My pulse pounds in my ears and hammers in my too-tight chest.

  “Look, I know you’d prefer Hooligan to train you, but it’s obvious he’s too wrapped up in his own shit right now,” Steve speaks too fast. He’s acting like he needs to convince me and not the other way around. “I’m not throwing shade at him. What he’s been through is fucked. It’d break any of us. Just know this, Nate... a lot of us in the scene have been talking. We’ve watched you develop, and you’re ripe. All you need is the right team behind you and the world is your fucking oyster...”

  He trails off, pulling away from me to sit straight in his chair. “Just think about it. Talk it over with Hooligan if you need to... if he’s honest with himself, he’ll see that I’m the right person to take you all the way. I’ve been there. I know how it works. I have the connections you need.”

  Fuck. My head is spinning. It’s not Hooligan who needs to be honest.

  It’s me.

  I should tell Steve the truth. I should confess why Hooligan has never offered to take me pro. I should clarify why he concentrates on Jep and the other fighters at Black Hearts MMA and not me. I should defend my uncle and his pure intentions.

  It takes a good moment or two, however I manage to defrost enough to meet Steve’s concerned gaze with my own. I force my mouth open. I propel the words to the tip of my tongue. I can taste them—humble and humourless.

  “Your offer is beyond great,” I start my explanation slowly. Every atom in my body braces for the change that will come once I’ve finished speaking. Steve will be the latest in a long line of people I respect to look at me differently once he knows. “But I can’t accept because...”

  “Nathan,” he interjects, straightening his shoulders and enunciating my full name like I’m a wayward school boy. “Your loyalty is honourable, and I admire it more than you’ll ever know. How’s this for a compromise... we keep it from Hooligan until we know it’s going to work out? You can train here during work hours—I’ll pay you for a part-time roster and the rest can be considered an investment in your future. Say ten-percent of your earnings until I’m paid back? Interest-free, of course. I’m not here to take advantage of you.”

  The more he speaks, the less I’m capable of remembering why this is a bad idea.

  Sure, the meds I take at the moment are on the prohibited list and would see me banned for life if I tested positive after a fight.

  But what if I went off them for a while? Just long enough to go pro and earn enough money to pull Black Hearts MMA out of the red. Then I could go back on them or challenge the medical authority overseeing the fighters for an exemption.

  It’s possible. I’m certain it is. After all, I’ve been using them since I was fifteen—since Hooligan took me to a doctor and had me officially diagnosed despite my parents’ objections and threats to disown me. The meds have done their job. I’ve mostly stayed out of trouble. I’ve learned how to fit in as best I can. I’m a little rough around the edges, but I’m calm and sane and stable.

  I can’t be the only professional fighter with ADHD?

  I’ll be fine off my medications for a little while.

  Maybe it’s different in the United States?

  “Okay,” I reply before my whirling brain can provide me with further reasons why this is a dumb idea. Standing, I hold my hand out over the desk. Steve pretty much jumps to his feet and seizes my hand with both of his. The smile that covers his face hits me right in the heart—a bolt of sunshine and belief that overrides all my fears. “As long as you keep this from Hooligan until I decide it’s time to tell him, I’m in.”

  “Done.” Steve pumps my hand up and down. “You’re not going to regret this Nathan.”

  The grin I plaster on my face is cocky. The assurance in my posture when I retake my seat is clear. The niggling worry that sets the hair on the back of my neck on end is hidden. It’s concealed deep down in the pit of my gut, right alongside the fear that I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.

  “Where do I sign?”

  Steve presses a couple of buttons on his phone. “Is that contract ready yet, Amy?”

  “Sure is,” she replies. The door to the office opens half a minute later and Amy lays a document in front of me and one in front of Steve. He favours her with a wide grin, which she returns. “Gabbi wants to speak to you, Steve. Should I tell her to wait or come back later?”

  “She can wait,” Steve replies. He looks at me, rock-solid support and something akin to good-natured cunning in his eyes. “It’s actually perfect that she’s here already... she’s going to be working very closely with Nathan.”

  Amy snorts, then leaves the office. Me and Steve work our way through my new contract, striking out clauses and adding parts as we amend the previous job offer to better suit our new agreement. As we go, he fills me in on Gabbi Mitchell, her unique family life, and the potential he sees in her as a fighter. By the time we’re done, I’m thoroughly intrigued and looking forward to meeting my new second-in-charge.

  My intrigue morphs into delight when he leads me out of his office and introduces me to Gabbi.

  Finally, the universe has taken pity on me.

  First, Steve offers to take me pro... then my new second-in-charge turns out to be the tattooed hottie from the supermarket.

  I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve all this good fortune; I just know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it coming.

  Snide snorts and epic side-eye from Amy, notwithstanding.

  SIX

  Amy

  “So how did your hot date go last night?” Gabbi asks, leaning her arms on my desk and peering at me.

  She seems unusually nervous and the fact that she’s brought her bitch of a sister, Zali with her is worrying. I would normally refrain from calling other women bitches—we cop enough of that shit from the small-dicked men of the wor
ld, but the cast-iron, unavoidable truth is that Zali is a bitch and her disagreeable nature is something she revels in.

  I’ve never understood how my gorgeous, loyal friend managed to end up saddled with a sister like hers, except to acknowledge that the universe works in strange ways, and since Zali and Gabbi are exact opposites, maybe the world is trying to achieve something I can’t understand yet by forcing them to rely on each other?

  “It was a freaking dud!” I exclaim. Gabbi’s amber eyes fill with sympathy as I continue, “I was home by eight thirty, sitting on the sofa watching the latest episode of The Walking Dead, and stuffing my face with ice cream. Unfortunately, the second I mentioned that I had a kid, he remembered that he had to get up early for work. It definitely wasn’t worth pulling a double shift today, so I could have last night off.”

  Of course, my explanation leaves a lot to be desired. Gabbi might be the closest person I have to a best friend since Jon’s death, however, even she isn’t privy to Real Amy. Her life might be fucked up in unimaginable ways and her struggle to raise her younger siblings since her parents’ divorce might emulate my life crises to a certain extent, but she’ll never understand the pain that was created the day I decided to throw away my family heritage and the expectations that come with it for the Aussie boy down the road.

  So, Gabbi gets a watered-down version of the real me, and a bullshit explanation for my aborted date.

  Spying the concern in her expression, I turn up the volume on my devil-may-care person and offer her a leering grin. “Although, the new night manager’s gorgeous so I might take him for a spin—”

  I stop speaking when Steve’s office door opens. There is no way I want that blond annoyance to overhear what I said. He’s cocky enough as it is, and I only said he was gorgeous to make Gabbi laugh anyhow.

  There’s no way I spent the past twenty minutes imagining what it’d be like to kiss him.

  No, Sir. I most definitely did not. Nate Harvie has not managed to get further under my skin in one afternoon than every other male I’ve met since Jon passed has in two years.

  “Gabbi,” Steve smiles when he sees her. “I was just telling Nathan here all about you. You two will be working very closely together. I need you to show him the ropes.”

  My best friend turns white and she barely glances away from the floor while Steve introduces them and they discuss Nate’s new role, Gabbi’s promotion, and Zali’s potential traineeship.

  Hmmmm. There’s something going on here...

  When Steve takes Zali into his office, I fade into the background and silently watch the interaction between Nate and Gabbi.

  “Thanks for backing me,” Gabbi says to Nate. Pulling herself to her full height, she steps into Nate’s personal space and eyeballs him. “We’re not going to have any issues, are we? It’s not like we actually fucked.”

  I open my mouth to laugh at Gabbi’s straightforward ways, before I slap my hand over it to stop myself when Nate’s eyes widen with surprise and he stutters, “F-fucked?”

  “Yeah, you know? Meeting at Nitro’s tonight? Fucking afterward?”

  Gabbi’s on a roll and I’m wishing the walls would let me merge with them à la Homer Simpson into the hedge style. As an unwilling spectator, this is becoming a teeny bit awkward to watch.

  I almost feel sorry for Nate.

  Then, Gabbi giggles and all of my sympathy evaporates.

  She never giggles.

  He’s a bloody magician.

  “I don’t see how working together impacts fucking tonight?” he replies with almost all of the cockiness he lost in the face of her candid questions.

  My friend stops giggling and starts laughing as hard as she can. I join her, my own amusement multiplying tenfold when I meet her eyes and discover that she’s genuinely enjoying herself with him.

  “What’s so fucking funny?” he asks. Irritation covers his attractive features and he straightens to stand with his hands on both his hips.

  “She doesn’t shit where she eats,” I reply when it becomes apparent that Gabbi is laughing too hard to speak.

  He narrows his eyes at me. “Huh?”

  “In other words, I don’t fraternize with my colleagues,” Gabbi states.

  Nate sends me a pleading look. I drop his gaze immediately. He misinterprets my lack of reaction and seems to dismiss me with his next look. It hurts. Which is crazy and stupid, but an unassailable fact. Nathan Harvie is interested in Gabbi, not me. And Gabbi, for all her protests otherwise, sees something in him that has her loosening up in ways I’ve rarely witnessed.

  It doesn’t matter that he managed to get under my skin earlier.

  What matters is my friend and my driving need for her to see herself as the rest of us see her.

  Worthy of love. Deserving of happiness.

  So it’s with that thought that I block out my own attraction to Nate and join in with their repartee back and forth until Gabbi’s decided that she’s had enough amusement at Nate’s expense, and she asks me to come to lunch with her.

  As we head out of the office, I swear that I see interest on Nate’s face as he watches us and I decide to test him.

  “If Steve comes out of his office before I get back, can you let him know that I’m having my lunch break. I’ll be back in forty-five,” I purr as I flip my long hair over my shoulder.

  He nods; a lovesick, puppy-dog expression covering his handsome features when he looks between us. It’s hard to tell if he’s more interested in Gabbi or me, but one thing is for sure...

  I’m going to be the adult in this situation.

  Gabbi needs this more than I do. Despite the loss I’ve suffered, I’ve already been blessed with love and security while she had everything ripped out from under her feet before she was a teenager and her life had even begun.

  Should Nate prove worthy, I’ll do everything in my power to push him in Gabbi’s direction.

  SEVEN

  Nate

  The tattooed hottie—Gabbi—links arms with Amy and they walk out of the gym. I watch them go with a bittersweet taste in my mouth before I wander out into the main part of Steve’s gym to have a look around. Being on the receiving end of their girlie games was not fun just then, yet I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t enjoyed myself. The worst part was realising that Steve was right about both of them.

  Gabbi is definitely unique. The interplay between her and her sister was illuminating and I’m not sure if there’s any love lost there, especially on Zali’s behalf. The strange rules that Gabbi uses to govern her life are also intriguing, and I’m determined to see how far I need to push before she breaks them.

  Yet it’s Amy who’s making me rethink everything. There’s a quiet compassion about her that came through, loud and clear, when she deliberately stepped into the background and forced Gabbi to take centre-stage in our flirtatious banter back and forth. The type of girl I had her pegged as wouldn’t have willingly allowed her friend to take the spotlight, and that had made me pause. Add to that the fierce protectiveness I’d felt around her when I’d deliberately provoked Gabbi and I’d been left a little bit stunned by her.

  Like a fish out of water, I’m second-guessing everything... from my decision to work at The Fitness Hub to my acceptance of Steve’s offer to train me to my strange desire to pursue Amy instead of Gabbi.

  Nothing is making sense today.

  I’m either on the cusp of epically fucking up my life or I’m on the edge of growing into the man Hooligan’s always told me I could be if I set my mind to it.

  Thinking about my uncle creates an emptiness in the pit of my gut. It’s a churning chasm that is equal parts guilt and relief. By taking up Steve’s offer, I’m removing the pressure of my success from Hooligan’s overburdened shoulders. With our agreement to this deal from my uncle, I’m reducing the chance of messing with the hard work and dedication my uncle’s put into me since I was a fifteen-year-old fuck up.

  One wrong move and I could find myself back at squar
e one.

  Unmedicated.

  Uncontrollable.

  Unwanted.

  And without Hooligan to save me from myself.

  It’s not too late to back out yet... I could save myself a whole heap of trouble by telling Hooligan what went down today. I know he’ll know how to let Steve down easy.

  “Hey, Nate. Steve sent me to get you.” A young guy in shorts and a sleeveless top with Fitness Hub logos on them approaches me.

  “Yeah. What for?”

  Pausing, he tilts his head slightly to the side. After a second, his mouth falls open and he holds his fist out to me. I hit mine against his knuckles then take a step back from him when his enthusiasm begins to resemble one of those newborn puppies that piss everywhere when they get over-excited.

  “Holy fuck,” he crows loud enough for most of the main floor of the gym to stop what they’re doing and stare at us. “You’re Hooligan Harvie’s nephew.”

  I nod, but before I can get a word of agreement out of my mouth, he’s struck down with verbal diarrhea.

  “Man, you’re so lucky. I’ve watched your uncle fight since I was old enough to sneak into the club. He’s, like, a legend. A hero of mine.” Nodding once again, I attempt to put some space between us. The guy just follows, tugging on the sleeve of my Harley T-shirt. “Fuck, man. If I give you my sparring gloves, can you get him to sign them?”

  “Yeah, I—”

  “Oh, and Jep Haynes, too,” he demands. “He’s going to be the next big thing to come out of Black Hearts MMA. I’ve seen him in action. It’s obvious that Hooligan’s taught him everything he knows because he believes in him. They’re so similar. It’s like Jep should be his nephew, ya know? Imagine what he’s going to do when they...”

  His words pound around my skull with the accuracy of poisonous darts. It’s not like I haven’t heard people say it before. Everyone who knows my issues says it. They trust Hooligan’s judgement. They know that my uncle wouldn’t have take Jep under his wing if he didn’t see a chance for redemption in his future. It’s a second chance that I can’t offer him—not while I stay on my meds.