Fighting Dirty

by Lori Foster

  They groaned roughly together.

  Rissy immediately moved against him, lifting into him with a frantic rhythm.

  He gentled her with a hand to her hip. “Slow down, babe. Nice and easy.” He didn’t want to come too quickly, not with her.

  Her nails sank into his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can.”

  Pulling her hands down and lacing her fingers with his, he pressed her hands to the pillow and nuzzled her throat while slowly, heavily thrusting. He watched her, how her eyes went dazed and the wild tripping of the pulse in her throat.

  That damned emotion ripped at him again, making it hard for him to inhale, to swallow. Putting his forehead to hers, he shared her breath as he ground against her, feeling her tighten, squeeze him, milk him.

  To keep his release at bay, he concentrated on her. Deliberately he brushed his hairy chest to her sensitized nipples, thrust shallow and slow, then deep and fast, teasing her, keeping her on the very edge.

  Heat built between them. Their skin melded together. She tossed her head, straining, wanting to come but controlled by him. Releasing her hands, he came up on stiffened arms to watch the shimmying of her breasts. Thinking of how she’d gone down on him so naturally, how she’d seemed to enjoy it, he pumped faster, pressed deeper.

  “Come with me,” she gasped, her hands clutching at him. “Armie, come with me.” Her slender body bowed and she cried out, the sound first high and thin, before going low in a deep guttural moan as she climaxed.

  Overwhelmed by the potent mix of emotional and physical pleasure, a first for him, Armie put his head back and let himself go. The release was so intense, so shattering, that he lost himself, only to realize a short time later that Rissy was stroking the back of his neck and putting an occasional affectionate kiss to his shoulder.

  Ah, hell. Still sucking air, he sluggishly lifted up to see her.

  All gentle and sweet and satisfied, she smiled at him. Her silky hair was everywhere, her lips reddened from his kisses, her eyes smoky.

  “You’re dangerous,” he told her.

  Her laugh was happy, carefree, and proved she didn’t believe him.

  Keeping her close, Armie rolled to his back and released a big breath. Rissy curled against him, her fingers playing with his chest hair.

  “Armie?” She sighed and kissed him again, this time on his chest. “That was pretty wonderful.”

  He hugged her, kissed the top of her head and concentrated on finding the right words.

  He didn’t have to bother, because Rissy had plenty to say.

  “The other night, when you were drunk?”

  Dreading her answer, he asked, “What about it?”

  He heard the grin in her voice when she said, “You talked about your cocksmanship.”

  God. “You should never pay attention to the ramblings of a drunk.”

  “You said you were a better cocksman when drunk.”

  Wishing she’d quit saying it, he bit back the groan of humiliation. “Sounds like me.”

  “Something about—” she snickered “—using your cock like a sword.”

  “Enough.” He turned so she was under him again. “I think someone liked her spanking and is looking for another.”

  Now she laughed outright. “Maybe I want to try spanking your sexy butt.”

  What an appalling thought. “Never happening, Stretch, so forget it.” He dipped down to take her mouth, then liked that enough that he kept on kissing her, until kissing wasn’t enough, until they were both primed again.

  He’d just come twice. That should make him good for some extended foreplay. Rissy deserved that, and more.

  For now, at least, he was the lucky man ready and willing to give it to her.

  * * *

  STEVE PACED THE private room at the club, his anger simmering just below the surface. He would never forget the feeling of broken fingers, busted ribs.

  And that damn nut shot. His balls hurt just thinking about it.

  Armie Jacobson—now he had the bastard’s name—had really put it to him. After he’d taken apart Steve’s friends. He’d walked through each of them as if he fought women. Or kids.

  Steve wasn’t a slouch, damn it. He knew how to fight, was strong and fast. But clearly not strong enough or fast enough to go up against a trained MMA fighter.

  “You know where he is,” Keno said with a shrug. “I’ll go there and put a bullet in him. End of story.”

  First thing he’d done after leaving Merissa’s house was a quick internet search of Armie Jacobson. Since he frequented the same rec center as Merissa’s brother, it had been easy enough. Jacobson lived in the area, worked at the gym and apparently would be competing on a professional level.

  It was no wonder he hadn’t stood a chance against him.

  “I don’t want to murder him,” Steve growled. Jesus. That was the problem with hiring lowlifes. They were always pushing to cross the line. “I just want to destroy him.”

  Boyd said, “Death would destroy him.”

  Steve ignored them both, still pacing. He’d found out what he could locally; Jacobson’s address, his Facebook profile, his work schedule and when his next fight would be. Then he’d hired a professional PI to find out everything else. He’d used the PI before and knew he could be counted on for discretion.

  Bored, Keno said, “You realize I have better shit to do than watch you fret like an old lady.”

  Eyes narrowed, Steve turned to him. Keno looked like shit—more of Jacobson’s doing. “If you hadn’t fucked up the robbery, she’d be with me now. But he handed your ass to you.” He slanted his attention to Boyd. “To both of you. And you were armed!”

  “Didn’t know a fucking MMA fighter would be there.”

  Keno took it one further, standing to face off with Steve. “You fucked up, not us. You said to spook the woman. Period. You didn’t say anything about a professional ass kicker playing her personal bodyguard.”

  “I didn’t know he’d be there, either.” Steve ran a hand over his head, leaving his hair mussed and not giving a shit. All he’d wanted was for Rissy to be robbed. Everyone would know about it, of course, and that’d give him a viable reason to check on her. He’d already learned that her roommate was gone, so she’d be in her house, alone, vulnerable, shaken from being robbed at gunpoint. And he’d have played her hero.

  For months he kept thinking she’d come back to him. But she didn’t and it still infuriated him whenever he thought of how she’d walked away. He hadn’t loved her, but more than any other woman, he’d cared for her. They’d been good in bed, and out of bed she wasn’t too demanding. She was independent rather than needy. She could carry on an intelligent conversation. And her brother was a local hero. He’d figured on marrying the bitch eventually. But when he’d been at his worst, beaten and hurting, she’d given him the boot.

  No one treated him that way.

  It had taken him months of stewing to finally decide he couldn’t just let it go. He had to get even—so he’d instigated a simple robbery. He knew enough about her branch that it was easy to plan. Boyd and Keno were capable, but perhaps too ruthless.

  Though not ruthless enough to finish the job properly.

  Right now, Merissa should be welcoming him back into her life, full of apology, needing him—and then the outcome of their relationship would be in his hands.

  Instead she was with Jacobson and it enraged him.

  “We were supposed to keep the cash,” Boyd complained.

  Of course they were. But they’d fucked that up, too.

  Boyd shrugged. “Now we got jack shit.”

  With enough sense to know he didn’t want to get on Boyd or Keno’s bad side, Steve shook his head. “I’ll pay you a grand each.” He needed their silence and cooperation. Especially now that shit had gone sideways.

  The thugs shared a look, and Keno turned cagey. “Make it fifteen hundred apiece and we might be agreeable.”

  Through his teeth, Steve said, “You’
re the ones who left the money behind.”

  “So?” Keno narrowed his cold blue eyes. “We put it on the line for you and things did not go as you claimed they would.”

  Shit. “I don’t know if I can scrape up that much, but give me a few days to see.” Steve had that and more, piece of cake. But he wasn’t in the mood to be hustled by two clowns. “Now—”

  The ringing of his cell phone interrupted him.

  A glance at the screen told him it was the PI. Did he have news on Jacobson already? Maybe the prick was married, or even engaged. That’d get him tossed out of Merissa’s life real quick.

  After he answered the call, Steve realized the PI had something even better than a romantic commitment.

  He had the big score.

  It’d be the perfect way to drive the fighter away from Merissa—and in the process he’d get to destroy him.

  For good.

  * * *

  LEESE LEANED HIS elbows back on the counter at Rowdy’s bar. It was crowded, as always on a Saturday night. He saw most of the guys from the rec center, but Armie and Merissa were notably absent. Smiling, he sipped his drink and took in the different ladies glancing his way.

  Cannon joined him, his arm around Yvette. “Solo tonight?” Cannon asked.

  “So far.” He tipped his head at Yvette. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Just fine.” She put a hand over her belly. “Excited.”

  Funny, because she didn’t look preggers, but she already glowed. He figured that was happiness more than the baby.

  Just then his phone beeped and he took it out of his pocket to see a message.

  Rissy was here—but she won’t be there. Sorry!

  Standing next to him, Cannon saw and lifted a brow. “She’s texting you?”

  He sent a No problem text back to her and returned the cell to his jeans pocket. “She’d said she might be in tonight, depending on how things went with...” The words fell off, and he exchanged Armie’s name with “...her day.”

  Cannon gave him a funny look, but then Yvette spoke to him, indicating that she was going to join Stack and Vanity at a table. He kissed his wife, put a hand to her flat belly and kissed her again.

  Leese felt like a damned voyeur, so he looked away and thought again about that message scrawled on Armie’s ass. Despite the explanations he’d been given, he knew Rissy was nuts for Armie. He assumed Cannon knew it, too, but things might be viewed differently by a brother.

  “So she’s not coming in?” Cannon asked after his wife had walked away.

  Leese shook his head. “Guess she has other plans.” Plans that probably involved private time with Armie.

  “You two had a date?”

  Quick to shake his head, Leese said, “Negative.” Jesus, he didn’t need Cannon thinking things like that. “She’d asked if I was going to be around, that’s all. In case nothing better came up.” He was pretty sure Armie was finally “up” with Rissy. And he was happy for her, as long as Armie didn’t break her heart. “We’re just friends.”

  “So you don’t mind that she’s probably with Armie?”

  “No.” Cautiously, Leese asked, “You assume she is?”

  Cannon’s grin came slowly, then turned into a short laugh. “I like that you’re trying to protect her, but you don’t ever need to do that, not with me.” He ordered a beer, then took the bar stool beside Leese. “You know Armie was there with her at the bank when the robbery happened.”

  “Everyone knows.” And Leese also knew that since then, Armie had been different with Rissy, less like a friend and more like a man guarding what was his.

  “I think it shook up both of them, and it’s nice that they can work that out together.”

  “If you say so.” He watched a woman walk by, appreciating the smile she sent in his direction. “Look, I know Armie’s a really good guy.”

  Cannon nodded. “The best.”

  “He has a great rapport with the kids, especially the little toughies.” Kids from bad homes, some of them neglected, came in with bad attitudes and a lot of hurt. “Armie has a way of getting them to settle down and take part.”

  “He gives them a positive focus. For some reason, they relate to him.”

  Leese laughed. “One toughie to another?”

  “Probably,” Cannon agreed with his own grin. “They’re in awe of his tats. Plus he never looks riled. He just reins in tempers and keeps kids in line so that the quieter kids and the potential punks can all get along. It’s always impressed me. That’s one reason why he runs most everything at the rec center. He has a knack for it.”

  Leese set his drink on the bar and shifted to face Cannon. “He has this way of acting like he’s known everyone forever. You know what I mean?”

  “I do.” Cannon, too, set aside his drink. “Armie isn’t easily impressed or intimidated, so to him, no one is a big deal or a problem. He isn’t shy or modest and no one scares him.”

  “Oh, I dunno.” This is where Leese felt he had to tiptoe. But Cannon seemed in the mood for a heart-to-heart, so why not? “I think your sister scares him plenty.”

  Cannon studied him, then clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. “That’s pretty damned observant. And yeah, I’ve always thought the same. It’s because she matters to him. Armie is like a brother to me, but it’s different with Rissy. Not like the significant others with his friends, and not like the women who helped to build his rep.”

  “His rep would scare most brothers.”

  “Rissy is a really strong person. Independent, too. She knows I’d like to spoil her, but she insists my success is my own and she can take care of herself. But the robbery, being held at gunpoint...” His jaw worked. “Regardless of how she tries, having some bastard maul her and put a gun in her face, that’s not something she’s going to push past. And if I can’t be with her, then I’m glad Armie is.”

  Nice that Rissy’s brother was okay with the setup. For her sake, Leese hoped Armie felt the same. But given what he’d witnessed so far, he wasn’t convinced.

  Seemed everyone was on board with them being together—except for Armie himself.

  When Yvette called him over, Cannon stood. “I’m glad you’re keeping an eye out for her.”

  “No problem.” Hell, all the ladies, especially Vanity and Rissy, considered him a confidant. For whatever reason, they trusted him with their secrets, and their worries. Leese wasn’t sure if that was a compliment to his character, or an insult to his masculinity.

  “You might not see it,” Cannon continued, “and Armie would deny needing it, but do me a favor and keep an eye out for him, too, will you?”

  “You’re serious?”

  Cannon nodded. “Everyone is so used to Armie being outrageous, it’s tough to notice when he’s struggling. It’s not the workload, and it’s not the SBC debut. But seeing Rissy threatened—that put him in a tailspin.”

  “What do you expect me to do?” Leese just naturally looked after kids or women or whatever. Old people or stray dogs. But Armie was a phenomenon. A natural fighter that everyone assumed would carve a straight line to the title belt. How the hell would Leese be of any help?

  “You’re single. If you see him out and about and he has a problem, any problem, whether you think he’d want your interference or not, let me know.”

  “Sure.” But it felt weird as shit to babysit Armie “Quick” Jacobson.

  “Thanks. And Leese? Keep it to yourself.”

  “What?”

  “All of it. Anything to do with my sister or Armie.”

  Yeah, that was the big brother speaking, what he’d expected all along. “For the record,” Leese said evenly, “I would have done that without the warning.”

  “I figured. Thanks.”

  Cannon no sooner left than Justice and Brand joined him. A few minutes after that, several ladies invited them to their table. Leese soon had his mind on other things—like the cute brunette who invited him back to her place.

  Right before
they left, he heard two of her friends ask about Armie, and he smiled. Since he knew Rissy wasn’t the type to share, he figured Armie was off the market, at least for now.

  And if Rissy got her way, Armie would never have another three-way. He almost felt sorry for him—except that Rissy was a catch, and if the lucky SOB didn’t screw it up, Leese was pretty sure she was the one woman who could make Armie a very satisfied man.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE NEXT MORNING, Armie woke when Rissy left the bed. He cracked open an eye and watched her pull on a sweatshirt. Shame to cover that sweet body. When she peeked back at him, he closed his eyes and feigned sleep.

  Being with her like this was incredible, but also left him reeling. How long could he keep her?

  He sensed her moving closer to the bed, and then the mattress dipped.

  He turned to face her, saw her startled expression and said with stern warning, “You weren’t planning to write on my ass again, were you?” It had taken her a damn hour scrubbing with rubbing alcohol to finally get the marker removed.

  Part of the problem was her distraction. She kept pausing to fondle his balls, or kiss the back of his thigh...

  “Rissy?”

  Holding up both hands to show she didn’t have a marker, she bit back a grin. “I was just looking to see if it was all gone.”

  “You damn near scrubbed my skin off.”

  “Want me to kiss it?”

  That did it. Full-blown boner. “C’mere.” He caught her and dragged her into the bed atop him, then wrestled off the sweatshirt she’d just put on.

  Unfortunately, when he started to kiss her, she stiff-armed him. “Wait!”

  “Okay.” Releasing her and scooting up in the bed to sit against the headboard, he asked, “What’s up?”

  Fussing, she pulled up the sheet to partially cover her body, then smoothed back her hair. But her longer than long legs were right there, her feet tucked under her, and she looked like a wet dream come to life. “I need to brush my teeth.”

  First time a woman ever said that to him. But then again, he didn’t have many morning-after conversations with women. “Seriously?”

  She nodded. “And I need...makeup. And a shower. We both need a shower.”