Mace (Cocky Cage Fighter #4)

by Lane Hart

  “Sabrina!” I yell for her even though it’s almost one a.m. before I jump up and storm into my bedroom.

  “Hey, you’re home,” she says when she sits up in the bed. “You wanna join me?”

  “No,” I snap. “Did you answer my phone when Hailey called?”

  “Ah, yeah.” Shit. If Hailey knows she was here at my place, she’ll get all sorts of wrong ideas.

  “What the fuck did you say to her?” I demand.

  “Um, that you were out and had left your phone here.”

  “No, I want word for fucking word, hers and yours, during the entire conversation!” I yell.

  When she complies and tells me what was said, I know I’m fucked with Hailey. I didn’t tell her Sabrina was living with me or how I make ends meet.

  Over the next twelve hours I text and call Hailey multiple times, but of course she doesn’t answer or respond. This is not something I feel like I can explain in a message, so I need to figure out a way to see her.

  I refuse to stoop to the level of asking someone to borrow money, even if I’ll be able to pay him or her back, win or lose, after Saturday night’s fight. Besides, no one I know would even be able to spare a few hundred bucks other than Linc and Claire who are on their honeymoon, and…Senn. Fuck that. There’s gotta be some way I can get to Hailey before I leave for Vegas Friday morning. This can’t wait because I know that I’m losing her more with every passing second.

  …

  Hailey

  It’s been four days and two hours since I left Mason at the airport, after he told me he loved me. There’s been fifteen missed calls, six voicemails, and eight unanswered text messages from him. I told him not to call, but of course, the persistent man didn’t listen. Every time there’s a knock on my apartment door, even if I’m expectin’ company or take-out, my heart speeds up, stupidly hopin’ it’s him disregardin’ my orders not to show up.

  I miss him. I mean, I knew I would, I just didn’t know how much. A year ago when I came back from Raleigh I thought I missed Senn. That was nothin’ compared to what I’ve been goin’ through the last few days.

  It doesn’t help that more and more of the sports channels are showin’ his picture and talkin’ about his upcomin’ fight. There are sound bites, too, so I get to not only see him, but also hear his voice on TV and when he leaves long voicemails askin’ me how I am and tellin’ me he wishes he was with me. Whenever the phone rings, I hold it and my breath waitin’ to see if it will ping with a message so I can listen to it.

  “Sure you don’t want a shot?” Elle, my best friend and roommate, asks. She’s sittin’ next to me lookin’ like a million bucks in her short, black sheath dress with her platinum hair pulled up off her neck. Elle could easily be dancin’ with any man in the entire club. Instead, she’s doin’ the wallflower thing with me because I’m too heartbroken to get off my ass. Surprisingly enough, six different guys, really hot guys, have offered to buy me a drink and/or asked me to dance tonight. I’ve turned them all down.

  “No thanks,” I tell her. “I’m stickin’ with water tonight.” Alcohol has too many calories.

  “Of course you are,” she replies with a roll of her amethyst eyes. I had never seen purple eyes before I met Elle, and for the first few months I swore she wore colored contacts. When I met her mother, whose eyes are just a shade lighter, I finally realized they were natural.

  It’s not very crowded tonight since most people have to work tomorrow. I don’t. My schedule is unfortunately clear at the moment.

  “We could do the unthinkable and go dance,” Elle says after we sit in silence on the club sofas for several more minutes, listenin’ to the up-tempo beat.

  “Nah.”

  “Of course not. But at least you took the first step and left the apartment. I was starting to worry you may never come out into the world of the living again.”

  “This is true,” I say on an exhale.

  “I gotta pee. You coming or staying put?” she asks, gettin’ to her silver stilettoed feet.

  “Um, I’m good,” I say since I don’t like to have any witnesses when I go to the restroom. The best thing about a broken heart is I haven’t felt like eatin’, so I’ve lost a few pounds without throwin’ up.

  “Suit yourself. Just don’t leave without me,” she says before sashayin’ across the club. She’s not gone for thirty seconds before her seat is taken.

  “Sorry, but someone’s sittin’ there,” I say as politely as possible to the man in the three-piece, gray suit. He’s hot in a rich, sophisticated, and arrogant sort of way with short, mussed blonde hair, golden five o’clock shadow, and pale blue eyes.

  “Then he’s an idiot for leaving you alone,” the stranger says with a smirk.

  “She had to use the restroom and will be right back,” I reply.

  “Luckily for you, I happen to be very tolerant. In fact, I love lesbians.”

  “I’m sure you do,” I say with a shake of my head.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.

  “No thanks,” I say quickly.

  “How about a dance? Your girlfriend won’t mind, will she?”

  “No thank you.”

  “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” he asks.

  “Nope, sorry,” I say with another shake of my head, glancin’ out onto the dance floor.

  “That’s too bad,” he tells me with a sigh. “And you just made me lose a hundred bucks.”

  “What?” I ask lookin’ back over at him in surprise. “How’s that?”

  “My buddies and I went into a pool with some other guys at the bar. One threw down a bet that none of us could tempt the most gorgeous woman in here tonight into accepting a drink or a dance. That would be you, by the way,” he says. “So far he’s made seven hundred bucks.”

  I blink at him, tryin’ to figure out if he’s bein’ serious. It just sounds so ridiculous. “So there’s a bet goin’ on to see who can get me to accept a drink or a dance?” I ask slowly, and he nods. “Is there a bonus prize for fuckin’ me?”

  “No, nothing like that I swear,” he says, holdin’ up his palms in front of him. “In fact, the bookie, this big ass dude, threatened to remove our arms and bludgeon us to death with them if we tried anything more than dancing with you.”

  “Holy shit,” I mutter, recognizin’ that very specific threat. My eyes start searchin’ him out before I can catch myself and force them to stop. My chest tightens, and I suddenly worry that my heart has sank down into my stomach permanently. He’s here. Not just in the city, but in the same club as me. But how? How did he know I would be here of all places?

  “Well, hello, handsome,” Elle says when she walks back up.

  “Did you post about us tonight?” I ask her frantically.

  “Post?” she repeats, scrunchin’ her face in confusion.

  “Yeah, like Facebook check-in, taggin’, whatever?”

  She thinks about it for several heartbeats before a lightbulb goes off. “Oh yeah, after I took that selfie of us at your apartment. We look hot!”

  “You put that you and I were comin’ here, to The Griffin?”

  “Um, yeah. Why?”

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothin’,” I say. Part of me wants to find him, jump into his arms, and kiss him like crazy because I missed him so much. But the other part, oh fuck, doin’ that will only encourage him, which means he could do somethin’ stupid like not fight this weekend. He’s already gone so far as to fly in or drive hours to the city. It won’t take much for him to give it all up to stay with me. Besides, I’m still pissed about the woman in his apartment while he wasn’t there the day after he left me at the airport. That means she’s spendin’ the night with him, and she told me he was partyin’ with some sorority sluts!

  Even though tears sting my eyes, I stand up and grab the hand of Mr. Moneybags. “Congratu-fuckin-lations, you win,” I tell him as I drag him behind me to the dance floor.


  “Haha!” He chuckles. “You know, if you want to throw in that bonus then I’m all for that, too.”

  On the edge of the dance floor, in full view of the club’s sittin’ area and bar, I turn around and wrap my arms snugly around his neck, pressin’ the front of my body flush with his and start movin’ my hips to the music.

  “Whoa now,” the stranger says next to my ear, tryin’ to pull back to put some space between us. “I’d really like to keep my arms.”

  “Huh,” I mutter. “I had no idea pussies could look so sophisticated in suits. Now I know,” I antagonize him.

  “Hey, I’m not pussying out. I’m just not stupid. You haven’t seen this guy.”

  “Let me guess, about six feet four, two hundred pounds with dark hair, golden-green eyes and black tribal tattoos down his right arm?”

  “So you know him?” he says when he stops dancin’. “What, is he like a crazy ex or something?”

  “Nope. He’s actually my brother.”

  “Brother?”

  “Uh-huh.” I leave out the distant in-law part.

  “So what’s with him and the bet?”

  “Oh, that’s easy,” I say. “He knows I have these…self-esteem issues. He practically paid you just to talk to me so I would get a confidence boost.”

  “Really?” he pulls back further and asks. “I don’t know. I don’t think that’s what’s going on.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. Because he didn’t pick you. He just said for us to choose the hottest woman in here, and then the other guys and I unanimously decided that was you. Your friend was a close second, but your killer legs sealed the deal.”

  “I find that very hard to believe,” I say with a frown, and my neck hurts from how tight the muscles are as I force myself not to turn around.

  “See, and here I was thinking you were so beautiful you had to be a complete bitch for turning everyone down. But you really have no idea how stunning you are, do you?”

  “Look, you won, you can stop with the BS now, and I think I’m ready to go,” I tell him. Then, I have a horrible idea. “Are you ready to man up or pussy out tonight?” I ask. “Don’t worry, my…brother is all talk with his threats.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mace

  I can’t believe she’s dancing with him. Some of the others maybe, but I didn’t peg the rich asshole as her type. Now I’m holding onto the bar, gripping it tightly as I contemplate ending that fucker’s life. The guys next to me cheer; and when I look over my shoulder, the winner is standing there with an enormous, cocky grin.

  “Pay up, losers,” he says, holding out his palm. I half turn on my stool, slap the stack of bills into his palm and quickly turn back around without another word so that I won’t get charged with assault. “This should buy her a really nice breakfast tomorrow,” I hear him joke with the guys. Rage caused by his words, and knowing he’s worth more money than I’ll ever have in a lifetime, has my blood boiling. She wouldn’t, would she? I come out of my seat, ready to ram my fist in his face, but he’s gone. When I search the crowd and find him again, his hand is around Haley’s waist, guiding her out the door.

  Oh fuck.

  Now I have two choices, go pry his fingers from her as I break them off, or let her go home with him. I came to see her, to make sure she was okay and to try to explain where I was when she called the other night. She doesn’t know I’m here, and if she’s moving on…fuck, I don’t have any say in that shit. I wasn’t supposed to show up in the city, and maybe this is why, because she wants to date other men. Rich men.

  This week has been pure hell. I’ve beat on Senn and the gym’s punching bags like never before until I go home and pass out from exhaustion. Before, I fought because I simply loved fighting, the awesome adrenaline rush and the pure satisfaction of knowing I’m fucking superior to the other guy in the cage. Now, I hate it because it’s the one thing that’s keeping me in North Carolina. It’s all I know how to do. Without a college degree and actual work experience doing any sort of real job, I’m stuck with fighting as my career of choice. If I win the fight in Vegas, I’ll get paid more money than all of my underground fights and…extracurricular activities, put together. It’s also a prime time, televised fight. The whole country will be watching me before the main headliner title fight. If I can put on a good show and win, I’ll walk away not just with fifty grand, but with a contract that could very well take me all the way to a chance at the championship. The potential for millions of dollars is what’s riding on this one fight.

  So, yeah, that’s why I hate fighting, because even as important as Saturday’s fight is, I would give it all up for her if she would fucking let me. I would scrub toilets or flip burgers for the rest of my life. I would do anything to be with her, and she just left with some random asshole.

  Walking out onto the busy street in an unfamiliar city, there’s no sign of Hailey, not that I thought there would be. Maybe I didn’t really want to face her because I just didn’t want to hear the rejection yet again. Seeing it was enough, making it clear where we stand.

  Before I can even try to figure out what to do next, my cell phone starts vibrating in my pocket. I pull it out and see it’s an incoming call from my sister. Since it’s almost midnight, I quickly answer, worried something’s wrong.

  “Claire? Is everything okay?” I ask, stepping into a quiet alley so I can hear her.

  “Mason! Where are you?” she asks.

  “Um, New York.”

  “New York! What are you doing there? I thought we’re all supposed to fly out to Vegas tomorrow for you to start doing the promos.”

  “Yeah. Tomorrow,” I mutter while scuffing the toe of my shoe over a pile of cigarette butts. What I wouldn’t give for a smoke right now.

  “Senn said you…that-that you sold your car,” Claire stutters in disbelief.

  “Uh-huh.” My legs feel so shaky and weak that I have to lean against the dirty alley wall, not from exertion caused by workouts at the gym, but because of the sacrifice I made. It was all for nothing. I sold my classic car for a 2004 POS Accord so that I could come see a woman that doesn’t give a shit about me. It’s all so fucking ironic I can practically hear Alanis Morissette taunting me.

  “What? Why did you do that, Mason? For four years you’ve worked so hard to fix up Sally. You loved that car.”

  “I needed the money,” I mumble, so numb I can barely make my lips move.

  “Win or lose next Saturday and you’ll have plenty!”

  “This couldn’t wait,” I tell her. I needed to see Hailey and find out if she meant what she said or if she had moved on. I couldn’t go another day without knowing because I was going insane. This isn’t exactly how I saw everything going down when I decided to come see her. How could I have been so wrong about the two of us?

  “God, Mason. Is she really worth it? Sorry, you know that’s not what I meant. I think Hailey’s great, but what I mean is, are you gonna be okay if things don’t work out? I’m just worried about you, and I can’t even talk to Linc about what’s going on with Hailey because I don’t want to rat you out.”

  “I’m fine,” I lie. I’m so far from fucking fine I may never see it again in this lifetime.

  “If you love her as much as I think you do, then you’re not fine. You’re probably miserable and I bet she is, too.”

  I slam my head back against the wall knowing that right now she’s with some rich motherfucker. His hands on her… “She didn’t exactly look miserable when she just went home with some random asshole.”

  “Oh no! I’m so sorry, Mason. Don’t do anything crazy. Just come home. What better distraction than Vegas? It-it will get better,” she says, but now I know she’s lying. I saw her fall apart every day of the three months that she and Linc were apart. It only got better when they made up. And home? What home? My apartment sure as fuck doesn’t feel anything but empty, lonely. Home was the week I spent under the same roof as Hailey.

&n
bsp; “I’ll be back before the plane leaves tomorrow,” I assure her right when my phone beeps, warning me that my battery is dying. “Look, I’ve gotta go. Love you, sis.”

  “Love you, too,” Claire says before I end the call.

  I guess there’s nothing more for me to do here. I need to get back to Raleigh and then figure out how to convince myself I can live the rest of my life without Hailey.

  …

  Hailey

  “Hello?” I pause in the process of unlockin’ my apartment door as soon as I see Claire’s name on my phone. She and Linc are supposed to be on their honeymoon.

  “Hailey! I know we’ve only been related for a week, but what the fuck?”

  When the normally calm and sweet woman uncharacteristically yells at me, I can’t help but cringe.

  “Um, you’ll have to be more specific about which fuck you’re referrin’ to.”

  “More specific! You know exactly what I’m talking about! You’re trampling all over my sweet brother’s heart. Why? Why are you doing that to him?”

  “It’s complicated…and none of your business,” I say softly, hesitantly. If I tell her, she’ll tell him.

  “It is my business when I know my little brother is a mess over you! He sold his car to come see you and you just went home with some other guy!”

  “What?” I gasp. “Why did he sell his car? He loves his car!”

  “I know! But he loves you more. He said…he said he needed the money and it couldn’t wait until after the payout from his fight.”

  “Oh God.” I lean my forehead against the apartment door and contemplated slammin’ into it over and over again. Tears overflow from my eyes when I think of how much Mason adored that car. Sally he called it. He worked so hard on it, and now it’s gone. For me. For him to come see me, and what did I do? I left the club with someone else.

  “Mason is head over heels in love with you!” Claire exclaims. “What’s your problem, Hailey? Do you just not feel the same about him?”

  “I told you, it’s complicated.”

  “What’s complicated? He loves you. You love him. That’s all that matters, right?” she asks.