Fighting Dirty

by Lori Foster

  “You always were a complete bitch.”

  Okay, so breaking his foot didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore. Armie was considering it when from behind him, he heard a small sound.

  He looked back over his shoulder and there stood Merissa, a million questions and just as many emotions on her face. Barefoot, still wearing his shirt but now with jeans, she watched him.

  Mac took advantage of his momentary lack of attention and shoved his way in.

  “Shit,” Armie muttered.

  Nearly as tall as him, with the same bulky shoulders, Mac Jacobson could intimidate a lot of people. But Armie had gone toe-to-toe with him as a kid. Now, as a man, nothing about his father impressed him, not his size, his strength, and sure as hell not his blood connection.

  “I’m telling you for the last time—”

  Mac pulled a worn cap off his head, showing dirty hair in need of a cut. He nodded toward Merissa. “Didn’t realize you had company.”

  Stepping in front of him, Armie blocked his view. “Out.”

  That made Mac laugh. “Shit, boy. You afraid of me seeing your girlfriend?” His mouth tweaked into a nasty smile. “Or am I interruptin’?”

  “She’s not my—”

  “Armie?”

  Jesus, no. He wished her anywhere but here with his estranged father in the room. No good would come of Mac knowing Merissa was important to him. His father would use her like a pawn, uncaring if she got hurt in the bargain.

  Without looking at her, Armie asked, “Will you wait for me in the other room?”

  At almost the same time, Mac pushed past him, hand extended. “I’m Armie’s pops. And you are?”

  Armie jerked him back around. “She’s none of your goddamned business.”

  Unimpressed with his rage, Mac said approvingly, “She’s a tall drink, isn’t she?”

  Armie didn’t want to maim his father in front of Rissy. He didn’t want his father to see him losing his shit, either.

  And he absolutely didn’t want Mac Jacobson to get any info on Rissy at all.

  “She,” Rissy said, “respects Armie’s wishes. So I’ll be in the other room.”

  God love the girl. Feeling empowered by her faith, Armie turned to the man who’d tried to bury him with lies. “You’re going to get out now, or I promise I’ll throw you out—and I won’t be gentle.”

  “How about we hold up on that.” Choosing that inauspicious moment to arrive, Cannon stepped in and clicked the door shut behind everyone. He stared down at Mac. “Armie might not care, but I’m curious why you’re here.”

  “You’re right,” Armie told everyone. “I don’t care.”

  Cannon smiled at him. “Because you’re not yet thinking about connections—but I am. So how about you let me handle this?”

  Armie almost laughed, it was so screwed up. He’d never deny Cannon, not if he could help it. And Cannon, damn him, knew it.

  Gesturing grandly, Armie said, “Sure. Let the inquisition begin.”

  Cannon nodded to Rissy, who still hovered near the hallway. “Rissy, you might as well hang around. This could take a while.”

  Armie met his friend’s gaze, and knew Cannon was up to something. Fine, whatever.

  But why did it have to involve Rissy?

  He didn’t want her anywhere near his sad excuse for a parent. But again, if that’s what Cannon wanted...

  Relenting, he turned to her and held out a hand. “Looks like the party is in here, Stretch, and apparently you’re invited.”

  * * *

  “I REMEMBER YOU,” Mac said. “You and Armie were thick as thieves back in the day. You liked to play his guardian angel, didn’t you? Always digging him out of trouble.”

  “You’re as wrong now as you were back then. Not that I expected you to change.” Cannon wished he could somehow make this easier on Armie, but with a father like his, that wasn’t possible.

  “Yeah,” Mac murmured, “that’s how you always told it.”

  It all had to be connected: threats against Armie, against his sister, and now, after so many years, Armie’s degenerate dad suddenly knocked on his door.

  “Let’s go to the kitchen,” Cannon said, doing what he could to keep things civil. “Rissy, is that coffee I smell?”

  “Yes, and there’s some left.”

  Cannon held back and let Rissy go first, then Armie, then Mac. No way in hell would he trust Armie’s dad at his back.

  Unfortunately, Mac made a beeline for a book on the table, picking it up and then laughing. “Yours?” he asked Armie.

  Going beet red and scowling, Rissy snatched it away from him. “It’s mine.”

  Mac looked at Armie. “You always were a lucky fuck.”

  Even knowing Armie’s language usually included profanities, Cannon told Mac, “You’ll watch your mouth in front of my sister.”

  “Sister?”

  With a deadly stare that held clear warning, Cannon nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Damn, boy.” He barked another laugh at Armie. “Scratching that itch a little close to home, aren’t you?”

  Armie made a move, and Cannon clasped his shoulder. “This is on me, remember?”

  Ignoring that, Armie shoved into Mac’s space, every muscle knotted tight. “Insult her again and I’ll take you apart and there’s not a goddamn thing Cannon will do about it.”

  Mac held up both hands. “Jesus, boy. It was just an observation.” He stepped back, and then took a seat, his gaze darting everywhere. “Don’t suppose I could get a cup of that coffee, too?”

  Rissy refilled her and Armie’s cups and handed Cannon his before setting one before Mac. She took the seat across from him, and Armie stood at her side—which meant Cannon had to stand, too, because he didn’t trust Armie’s mood. He looked ready to launch at Mac with any provocation at all.

  “Why are you here?” Cannon asked after everyone had tasted their coffee.

  “If I say that’s between my boy and me, would it matter?”

  Armie and Cannon said, “No,” at almost the same time.

  “Fine.” Sitting forward, Mac put his folded arms on the table and took another shifty look around the room. “I figured we could help each other.”

  “No.”

  Exasperated, Cannon asked Armie, “Can we find out what kind of help he’s talking about?”

  Armie didn’t look like he wanted to, but he held silent.

  “I need money,” Mac announced.

  After staring, Armie laughed and roughly ran a hand over his head. Cannon saw Merissa touch his back.

  His sister was good for Armie. Cannon hoped Armie remembered that when everything imploded for him. For too long Armie had denied his feelings—about everything. He was stoic, too strong for his own good, and more than anything else, he needed to take down some of the walls he’d built, the walls that Cannon knew he’d deny having.

  “So you’re broke?” Cannon asked Mac. “I’m not surprised. What does that have to do with Armie?”

  “He needs an alibi.” Mac held up a hand. “Or at least he needs me to say he didn’t rape no girl.”

  “No,” Merissa whispered, “he doesn’t.” Slowly, all but shaking with rage, she came out of her seat. “Because he didn’t.”

  Everyone stared at her in surprise.

  Mac was the first to break the spell. Frowning, he told Armie, “You managed to bury it once, but all that old shit is about to come back up again. People have already asked me about it. What I tell them is up to you.”

  “Tell them the truth!”

  Now it was Armie restraining Rissy. “Settle down, Stretch,” he told her quietly.

  Instead she darted around Armie’s hold. Cannon caught her before she reached Mac and kept her at his side. But he let her speak. Hell, if nothing else, it was nice to see Armie’s blindsided expression.

  Punctuating each word with rage, she said again, “Tell. The. Truth.”

  “The truth is a tricky thing, girl.”

 
“Only to a liar.”

  Whoa. Silence fell around the room.

  Eyebrows up, Cannon moved slightly in front of her in case Mac did the unthinkable. Stony-faced, Armie stepped up to her other side.

  Mac looked from Armie to Cannon and then to Rissy. His lip curled. “Got your skirts fighting your battles now? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Armie flattened a hand to her abdomen, keeping her still. “You have two seconds to say what you want before I toss you to the curb.”

  Mac shoved back his chair. “A grand.”

  “For what?” Cannon asked. “Spell it out.”

  “For me to say he never raped anyone.”

  “No,” Armie told him flatly. “Anything else?”

  Cannon wished his sister and Armie would cool down a few degrees so he could get some answers. “Who approached you?” he asked.

  Mac shifted shrewd eyes in his direction, and apparently decided to deal with him while ignoring the others. “Don’t know, and if you want me to find out, it’ll cost you.”

  “What do you know?” Rissy demanded with palpable impatience.

  “I got a call asking me about that nasty bit of business. Wanting details and such.” He lifted one heavy shoulder. “Told ’em the same as I just said here—info costs money.”

  “And?” Cannon asked, before Rissy could tear into the bastard. “Did you come to an agreement?”

  “He’s supposed to call back.” Mac licked his lips while sending a furtive glance at Armie. “Figured I might check with my son first, to see if he’d be interested in upping the ante.”

  Yeah, right. More likely the deal had fallen through but had inspired Mac to try a scam of his own. “You don’t know who called?”

  “Nope.” Mac worked his back teeth together and again glanced at Armie. “I saw you have that big fight comin’ up. That’s got to be worth something, right? I looked up paydays, and the fighters make out real nice.”

  Cannon almost laughed. New fighters rarely made enough to cover expenses, especially if competing meant they couldn’t carry a regular day job. Armie was the exception to the rule; he really would clean up, especially after he won. But none of that was Mac’s business.

  “Shame to see that opportunity screwed by your past,” Mac sneered. “At least that’s how I see it. So what’s it to be?”

  Looking at Cannon, Armie asked, “Are we done here?”

  “Yeah, we are.”

  “Now wait a damn minute,” Mac said with a measure of alarm. “We can negotiate—”

  “No,” Cannon told him, “we can’t.”

  “Wait here,” Armie said in the general direction of Cannon and Rissy. He turned to his dad. “You leaving on your own steam, or am I putting you out?”

  Mac didn’t look too keen on being alone with Armie, but he went along anyway. When Rissy started to follow, Cannon caught her arm.

  “No, hon, let Armie handle this his way.”

  Devastated, Rissy turned to him. “But, my God, Cannon,” she whispered, “his father is awful.”

  “Worse than you can imagine.” It worried Cannon, too, but as a man he understood Armie’s need to deal with his father on his own. “I needed you to see him.”

  Armie had looked cold and remote, but his sister just looked crushed. Swallowing hard, her gaze on the doorway where Armie had walked away, she whispered, “Why?”

  “So you’d really understand who Armie is, where he came from and what he’s up against.”

  She sank into a chair. For only a second her eyes got glassy and her lips trembled. Cannon held his breath, hoping she wouldn’t cry.

  He should have known better.

  Rissy slowly inhaled, pulled herself together and firmed her backbone. “Armie turned out so great.”

  Glad his sister wasn’t the weepy sort, Cannon smiled. “Yeah, despite his circumstances. But he doesn’t always believe it.” Angry voices came from the other room, and when Rissy started to rise again, Cannon stayed her with a hand to her shoulder. “It shames him for you to meet his father. Hell, it shames him for me to know the man.”

  Rissy clenched her fists. “How do you keep from flattening him?”

  “Good or bad, he’s Armie’s father. But yeah, it’s sometimes tempting.” Cannon smoothed her hair. It amused him that she wore Armie’s shirt but had probably forgotten. And that book... Wincing, he decided he wouldn’t think about that too much. “So, hon.”

  She looked up at him with eyes so much like his own.

  Feeling very much like the protective big brother—a role he loved—Cannon asked, “You and Armie?”

  After a peek at the doorway, Rissy said, “I love him.”

  Nice to have it confirmed, and for her not to shy away from the truth.

  “But,” she added, “if you tell him, I’ll disown you.”

  Because that was so funny, Cannon pulled her from her chair and into a bear hug. That’s how Armie found them when he stepped back in.

  “Hey.” Armie searched Rissy’s face as she disengaged from Cannon’s hold. “Everything okay?”

  She nodded. “He’s gone?”

  “Yeah.”

  Probably not for good, though. Once Mac smelled an opportunity, he’d ruthlessly chase it down. “Did he tell you anything else?” Cannon asked.

  “Bunch of lies. You know how he is. Don’t worry about it.” Clearly done with that topic, Armie folded his arms and stared at Rissy. Pretending his father had never shown up, he said, “Now, about you and whatever the hell had the cops at your house yesterday.” He lifted his chin at her. “Let’s hear it.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AFTER TELLING THEM EVERYTHING, twice, his sister stood. “I need to go get dressed for work. I’m now running late.”

  “Sure.” Cannon caught her hand. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay?”

  She laughed. “Cannon, everyone worries. Allow me my turn.” Bending, she kissed his cheek, and then headed off.

  Armie watched her so intently that it made Cannon a little uncomfortable.

  The second they heard the bedroom door close, Armie said, “Okay, out with it.”

  Pretending he didn’t understand, Cannon finished off his coffee before asking, “What do you mean?”

  More than a little wired, Armie gestured at Rissy’s mug on the counter, his kitchen, then his overall apartment. “There’s no way you don’t know, but you haven’t said a word.”

  “So?”

  “So...” His brows snapped down. “You’re seriously okay with this?”

  That depended on what ‘this’ was, but Cannon said only, “My sister’s an intelligent adult. She can make her own decisions.” Cannon loved her enough that he wanted her to have the best. That was Armie.

  But if Armie hurt her...

  No, Cannon refused to let himself think that. He had to believe Armie would get it together, that he’d once and for all put the past where it belonged and get on with his future—with Rissy.

  “There, that.” Armie pointed at him. “What the fuck was that?”

  Choking back a laugh, Cannon shook his head. “That was me thinking about the best way to protect her.”

  Stark pain shaded Armie’s expression. “I—”

  “Not from you, you idiot.” Cannon gave him a shove that got him sitting back in his seat. “In fact, I’ll need your help. Think you can convince her to stay here? To only go home when you or I are with her?”

  Confusion masked the pain. “Come again?”

  Cannon slid the empty mug away and braced his folded arms on the tabletop. “She’s practically living here anyway, right? I know you want to keep that quiet, to keep her from being the brunt of gossip. And I appreciate that, but it’s far from a secret.” Ignoring Armie’s deer-in-the-headlights expression, he forged on, not giving his friend a chance to react because he might possibly react the wrong way. “I believe her when she says someone was in the house.”

  “Yeah.” Recovering, Armie shook off the u
nfamiliar reserve that didn’t suit his usual balls-to-the-wall persona. “Rissy isn’t a drama queen.”

  “No, she isn’t. And she doesn’t go hysterical—not without a damn good reason. If she says someone was in there, you and I are neither one going to ignore it.”

  “No, we wouldn’t,” Armie agreed. “If she’d told me anything about it, I’d have contacted you last night.”

  “It’s probably a good thing you didn’t. She’s independent and with the cops saying they didn’t find anything, she might already be second-guessing herself.”

  With another frown, Armie gave it some thought. Making up his mind, he glanced at Cannon. “No problem keeping her here. I mean, I think she wants to stay.”

  Cannon barely bit back his grin. Reticence was a weird fit for Armie. “She does. The fact that she’s nuts for you also isn’t a secret.”

  Armie said, “Uh...”

  Again, Cannon pushed on, not giving him a chance to reply. “I’ll probably go by her place and beef up the security, maybe change the passcode or something. I want to have a look around, too. Much as I trust the cops, no one knows that house as well as Rissy and I do.”

  “You grew up there.” Armie scrubbed a hand over his head. “If someone’s screwing around—”

  “If anything’s out of place, or if anyone tried sneaking in, I should be able to spot it.”

  Armie nodded, then looked away. “I don’t like it that my dad met her.”

  “He could be a problem.” No reason to fudge the truth; Armie, better than anyone else, knew what his father was capable of. “But we’re tackling that shit head-on now, right?”

  Armie glanced at him, his expression unreadable.

  Cannon would have pressed him, but Rissy walked back in, refreshed, ready to go, and giving Armie heavy-duty looks of sympathy.

  “Oh, hell no,” Armie said, coming to his feet and lifting a hand to keep her away. “You can knock off that shit right now.”

  “What?” his sister asked, feigning innocence while ignoring his preferences as she stepped up against him. Then she stroked his chest and looked at him with big eyes.

  Armie dropped his head in disgust. “Jesus.”

  They were so damn funny together, Cannon had to laugh as he pushed back his chair. “I’m taking off. But, Rissy, no going to the house yet, okay?”