by Zoey Thames
Table of Contents
Cover
Table of Contents
Look for these titles from Zoey Thames
Title Page
Copyright Warning
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About the Author
Coming Soon
Also by Zoey Thames
More Romance from Etopia Press
Look for these titles from Zoey Thames
Now Available
Quick & Sexy Wolves
Curves for Three (Book One)
Curves for Fighters (Book Two)
Coming Soon
Curves for Shifters (Book Three)
Curves for Fighters
Quick & Sexy Wolves Book Two
Zoey Thames
Etopia Press
Copyright Warning
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published By
Etopia Press
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Warwick, RI 02889
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Curves for Fighters
Copyright © 2016 by Zoey Thames
ISBN: 978-1-944138-57-8
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: September 2016
~ DEDICATION ~
For Damon and Judy. Thanks for wonderful time in Manhattan!
CHAPTER ONE
Ruth Hadley had always hated her name. Ever since she’d been old enough to know what a Baby Ruth candy bar was, she’d loathed being called Ruth. There’d even been two other girls at her grade school with the name Ruth when she’d been growing up in eastern Oklahoma, but at least in Muskogee, no one had blinked at the name. Here in ritzy and sophisticated New York City, Ruth was about as strange a name as Cleopatra. In fact, she’d much rather have the name Cleopatra. No one heard the name Ruth and thought to themselves, “Now there’s someone who sounds sexy and elegant.”
Oh well, maybe she was being unreasonably hard on herself tonight. As usual. Better to focus on her job than on whether or not her mama would whup her with a dishtowel if Ruth legally changed her given name. Besides, Ruth had enough on her plate without worrying about something she couldn’t change at the moment. She was driving a black stretch Mercedes-Benz S-Class limousine with all the latest bells and whistles for Mirage Confidential Limo Service. Tonight she had a very important client to drive around the city that never slept. The New York city lights flooded the inside of the car, so even though it was technically nighttime, she felt as if she were in some kind of brilliant world filled with colorful, warm illumination. She glanced at her GPS instructions again and then at the service order on the computer terminal mounted on the dash.
The dispatch order had her picking up a high profile VIP from Third Avenue in the Bronx. At first she’d thought it must be a mistake, because that area was a little rough, and it seemed strange that an extremely rich client would be wandering around a place so far from the glitz and glitter of Broadway. But the onboard computer refused to admit ever being wrong, and dispatch had been adamant. So here she was.
She guided the luxury limo down the two-lane street, glancing from side to side as she went, searching for a sign that said Triago Mixed Martial Arts Gym and Academy. Mostly she spotted lots of liquor stores with security bars on the windows, a handful of check-into-cash places, and small convenience stores with Bud Light neon signs and promises of cheap cigarettes. There were tenement houses and Laundromats. Steam seeped from the gutters and from vents in the manhole covers. Some unsavory types were hanging out on corners or lounging against storefronts. They turned their heads to watch her as she drove past, unnerving her. The limo was wildly out of place in a neighborhood like this.
Definitely not the best part of town. Again, really not a place she’d expect to find the client—a billionaire werewolf tech mogul by the name of Brian Barrington—cavorting around. She snorted at the word. The last client she’d driven had been a bear shifter from Moscow, and he had definitely loved to cavort through the clubs and wild parties of New York’s nightlife.
The pleasant GPS voice informed her she was in the area and assured her she should be seeing the gym at any moment, but she had yet to spot it. Maybe the pickup instructions were wrong. That was rare, especially with how careful Mirage Confidential Limo Service was, dealing with high-end, superrich, paranormal figures in business and entertainment and politics, but occasionally mistakes happened. She continued to scan the street numbers on the buildings as she drove, not fully trusting the GPS computer. She was close now…
Finally she found it just as the GPS ecstatically told her she was arriving at her destination. Triago Mixed Martial Arts Gym and Academy was a medium-size building of gray brick, marked here and there by graffiti, and with black iron bars on the windows. She got lucky and the gods of New York traffic blessed her, having saved an empty swath of street at the curb big enough for her to park in front of the place. She guided the limo to the curb without touching the rims against the cement. She could see men inside the gym working at heavy bags, sparring, or shadowboxing. In the far back there were even a couple of full-size fighting rings.
God, there were few things she enjoyed more than watching a bunch of half naked men pound the ever-loving crap out of a heavy bag. It was so raw, so primal. The force. The intensity. The brute power of it. She stared at their sweaty, muscular bodies and had to remind herself not to drool. Reminder or no, she was helpless to stop her body’s reaction to all the muscles and brute energy. That inner heat, that secret ache between her legs, grew more intense, hazing her brain with its need. Well, this would all be perfect fodder for a marathon session with her favorite vibrator later on. Sad to say, right now her love life was about as neglected as the buildings on this street.
There was no sign of the client waiting outside for his pickup, which was fortunate. It meant she wasn’t late. Usually she arrived at least fifteen minutes early, just to be safe and per company policy, but she always worried that someday New York traffic would ensnare her and she’d keep a VIP client waiting. That would be exceedingly bad. Human or paranormals, VIPs didn’t always have a lot of patience. But the alphas were especially demanding, and those made up the majority of the clientele.
She lifted her limo’s radio receiver and called Mandy, who was on dispatch tonight. “Hey, Mandy. This is Ruth. I’m at the location. No sign of the client. Are you sure this is the right place?” She would never dream of using a client’s name over the radio. Their company’s frequency was encrypted, but they were also known for utmos
t discretion. At that meant radio discipline at all times. No name-dropping. No taking selfies with the client and posting it on social media, and so on.
“Ruth, I’m looking at my screen right now and you’re at the right place. We have a note here from the client. It says if you’re early or they are running late, you should feel free to go inside.”
“I don’t know… This looks like a bad neighborhood to leave the limo unattended.”
“Girl, you are parked in front of a MMA gym. Who in their right mind is gonna mess with those guys?”
Ruth laughed. “I guess that makes some sense.”
“You know me, I got so much sense it’s leaking out everywhere. Now I suggest you head on inside and watch all those beefy men punch things and get yourself a little testosterone contact high, you hear me?”
She couldn’t help her grin. “I hear you. Heading inside now.”
Ruth had a publicity photo of the client on computer file, so she’d be able to identify him on sight. He was a very special VIP indeed. The billionaire Brian Barrington. The tech mogul was both one of the world’s foremost philanthropists and a lead spokesperson for the Society of American Shifters. He was also the alpha wolf for the Empire City Pack right here in New York.
She turned on the overhead light and glanced at the photo again. Brian Barrington was a gorgeous piece of man meat, that was for sure. Chiseled jaw. Intense blue eyes. Hair so blond it might have been white. The broad shoulders filling a suit that probably cost more than most cars also hinted at a very muscular build. Yum. Yum. Yummy. In fact, she might just have to drop him into the starring role of her next late-night sex fantasy.
Still…what was a guy as handsome, rich, and sophisticated as Mr. Barrington doing at a rundown fight club like this? She could imagine him in a high-end workout center with all the latest training gadgets and personal coaches to guide his training, but this place? Maybe he owned the gym…as a tax write-off or something. Or perhaps this was more philanthropy. A community outreach.
Not that it really mattered. It wasn’t her place to ask questions. Or be curious. She certainly couldn’t afford to lose this job either. Not if she had any hope of every attending NYU business school again… This paid far more than waitressing, and the late night hours meant that when she started taking classes again, she could go during the day. So she couldn’t chance screwing this up. Even a little.
She got out of the limo, locked it, and set the alarm. Before heading into the gym, she checked her uniform in the tinted limo glass and adjusted her black driver cap, then she flicked a piece of lint from her uniform coat. Perfect. She might not be as slim as those models traipsing along the fashion runways, but she did have curves enough that filled out her uniform. Yes, she was curvy—what was it they said these days? A big, beautiful woman. She had long ago stopped torturing herself into believing a woman had to look stick-thin to be beautiful. Her mama had always told her that beauty came through the eyes, shining through like a lighthouse beam. Ruth didn’t know if that was true or not, but she did know that her curvy body and generous bust still attracted many a male’s gaze. In fact, as sharp as her uniform happened to be, the uniform shirt was a little tight across the chest…although she didn’t suppose any of the men here would mind.
Since she’d been invited to come inside and wait, she took Mr. Barrington up on the offer. She pushed through the glass front door and a little bell jangled. A few heads turned as men glanced her way. Ruth focused on keeping her calm, professional demeanor as she glanced from man to man, searching for Mr. Brian Barrington. She resisted the urge to pull at her collar. It was a little hot and stuffy in here, even though the fans were running full blast. So many men putting off so much heat. She actually felt a bit lightheaded. The grunts and smacks and heavy breathing all around her certainly raised her internal temperature more than a little.
At first she couldn’t spot the client as she moved deeper into the gym, passing men working the heavy bags or sparring or landing kicks and punches on pads held by a partner. But as she looked toward the far end of the gym, she finally saw him.
And her knees went weak.
Mr. Brian Barrington was wearing nothing but black silk boxer shorts, black protective headgear, and a pair of black fighter gloves. His body was even more impressive than she’d imagined. Every ridge of hard muscle stood out in clear definition. His perfectly sculpted shoulders trailed down to bulging biceps. His stomach was the poster child for the concept of washboard abdominals. His legs were ripped with heavy muscle that flexed as he moved about the ring. His body was covered in sweat and glistening in the gym’s overhead lighting.
Lord help her now.
The man he was sparring with was just as impressive though. He had short, dark hair and dark eyes, looking Mediterranean—maybe Italian. He was clean-shaven, but sported a bit of five o’clock shadow at this time of night. His sparring gear was bright red. He was shorter than Brian but a little stockier, again with plenty of well-defined muscle on his frame. And he had the sexiest patch of dark hair on his chest.
She had a fleeting thought, wishing this were ancient Greece where the men fought completely naked. She didn’t think she could handle that though. She might just spontaneously combust at the sight.
When she reached the ring, she stopped short, not wanting to distract the two men as they battled. But she also wanted to be close enough to see—make that drool—over them.
Mr. Brian Barrington was not only gorgeous but really agile. The darker man moved with confidence and power as well. Brian—she was going to think of him in her mind as Brian now, enjoying the intimacy of his first name—traded some punches with him, then darted back out of range before his opponent could close. Then Brian launched a kick that connected with his opponent’s chest and sent him back into the ropes.
She gasped at the force of the move, hoping the other man wasn’t hurt. He didn’t seem to be, because even though Brian closed in to take advantage of his strike, the other man came out of the ropes with a series of hooks and punches that forced Brian to defend. They circled each other again. Then came a flurry of blows and strikes that flashed by almost too fast to see.
They were so graceful, yet so powerful. She could see the fierce determination in their eyes. That fighter stare, totally focused. She wondered what it would be like to have one of these two stunning men look at her that way, with that heat, that intensity, that one hundred percent focus as if nothing else in the world mattered but her. Not dangerous to her physically of course, but dangerous to her willpower to deny them what they wanted of her…wild, passionate sex that would last until she begged for mercy… She had to shake herself out of that fantasy fast.
It was really hot in here after all.
Yet she moved closer to the ring, mesmerized by the furious combat. Drops of sweat poured off the two men. They exchanged a series of blows that had her holding her breath. She was a little surprised by her body’s enthusiastic reaction to this primal show of force between them. Her pussy was so wet she suspected her panties would be sopping by the time this was over.
Brian landed a fast cross-punch to the other man’s head, rocking him back on his heels. Ruth drew in a sharp breath of air at how magnificent his body looked. She had moved close enough to the ring so that when a drop of his sweat landed on her hand, a low groan of pleasure escaped her lips. She didn’t even question her body’s reaction. Her mind was swimming, and her thoughts grew fuzzy.
But her groan apparently caught Mr. Brian Barrington’s attention, because he glanced away from the fight and looked straight into her eyes. That searing gaze, those clear blue eyes, sent a thrill of utter lust raging through her body like a tidal wave. A smile curved his lips—
—and then his opponent clocked him on the jaw with a massive right hook. The punch sent Brian to the mat. He hit with a resounding thud.
Oh crap! She’d distracted him at the wrong time, and he’d been knocked out! Because of her! This was a disaster. She was in
so much trouble.
But Brian shook off the blow and rolled to a sitting position. His opponent was laughing as he reached down with a gloved hand and helped Brian back to his feet.
“Got you good,” the other man said. “Teach you to pay attention.” He crouched down and slapped Brian on the back and laughed again. She couldn’t help but like his laugh. It was a deep, full-bodied sound, full of unapologetic enjoyment.
“You got lucky, Dominic,” Brian said, rubbing his jaw as he pushed himself back to his feet with amazing recovery time. “I was distracted by a beautiful woman in uniform.”
He glanced at her again, and the glint in his eye made her stomach all fluttery. When he gave her a brilliant smile, her heart truly skipped a beat. He walked over to the ropes and leaned on them, staring down at her.
“Hello,” he said. His voice was smooth and deep and absolute music to her ears. “You must be our chauffer. I apologize for keeping you waiting.”
“It’s no problem, sir,” she squeaked. Then she blushed. Right then her voice had sounded the least professional it had ever sounded in her entire life. So much for all those hours practicing in front of the mirror.
But his smile only widened. “Please excuse us as we go shower. Then we can begin our evening.”
Dominic came over and slung an arm around Brian’s shoulders. He grinned at her. She also liked Dominic’s grin—the openness of it, a kind of simple warmth. These two guys and their incredible smiles were going to kill her dead.
“Listen to you,” Dominic said to Brian. “Trying to sound all sophisticated and impressive. And you just got knocked on your ass.”
Brian elbowed him in the ribs, earning a surprised grunt from Dominic. “And you owe me for taking advantage of a distracted man. But we’ll talk about that later.” He turned those stunning blue eyes back to her. He gestured toward some metal bleachers intended for people to sit and watch the action. “Please have a seat if you’d like. We shouldn’t be long.”