Pushing the Limits

by Jennifer Snow

  She nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “Well, the video is at your disposal if you want to press charges.”

  She shook her head. She had something much worse than pressing charges in mind. She planned to shut down the organization. “It’s fine,” she said, unlocking the car door.

  “Is it true what he said? Are you doing a story on the Xtreme Fight League?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  He nodded slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Wow, you really did want this job, huh? Enough to put your own safety at risk?”

  She nodded. She’d come too far to back out now.

  Dylan smiled. “Then I guess I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks, Dylan.”

  “Besides, they are letting me hire my new coanchor for the show, and the candidate I have in mind is smoking hot,” he said with a wink.

  “Then I guess I’m happy for you too,” she said with a laugh as she opened the car door and climbed inside.

  She wished she could be happy for herself, but until this story aired and the dust settled, she couldn’t even think about being happy.

  * * *

  An hour later, she heard Dane’s key in his apartment door, and her mouth went dry and her palms sweat as she paced the tiny space.

  Entering the apartment, he dropped his bag near the door and a flicker of surprise registered on his face when he saw her. “What are you doing here?”

  Her knees unsteady, Colby said, “You wouldn’t return my calls or texts.”

  “So, you break into my apartment?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Mrs. Everwood let me in, and you didn’t have a problem with it before.” The memory of him fucking her on his kitchen counter was too much and she banished the image as she took a step forward. “Look, I’m sorry. I really needed to see you and talk to you.” Hold him, kiss him, never let go.

  He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and placed his hands on his hips. “Fine. Talk.”

  Now that she had his attention, she had no idea what to say. “I took the job with Knock Out Sports.”

  His expression changed, but remained unreadable.

  “I’m going to do the story.” The decision still plagued her, but she knew if athletes continued to get hurt fighting for the organization, she would always struggle with her choice of staying quiet if she did. Even if, standing right in front of her, was the one reason she’d ever consider not reporting on the issue.

  Dane nodded. “Then I’m not sure why you’re here.”

  Colby released a breath. “I wanted you to know something.” She wanted him to know a lot of things—that she was truly sorry, that she’d never felt this way about anyone before, and that she was so in love with him, looking at him made it hard to breathe. “About the Consuelos fight,” she said when he remained silent.

  “I was there, remember? I’m trying to move on, so whatever it is, save it for your story.”

  “This won’t be going in my story.” She didn’t need the information. He did.

  He folded his arms across his chest, which had only expanded and gotten even sexier since he’d returned to the gym. She forced herself to focus. He was done with her. There was no sense torturing herself with thoughts about how much she missed being wrapped in those arms. She’d only gone to his apartment for one reason.

  “Dane, I know why Marco didn’t stick to the plan inside the cage that night,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed and his arms drew tighter around his body as though protecting himself from what might be coming next. Protecting himself from her.

  “He wanted to die inside the cage and not wait for the tumor to take him unexpectedly.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “How do you know that?”

  “Because of the insurance policy. The provider hadn’t been notified yet of his condition, therefore when he apparently died from the fight, the insurance claim was still paid out to his family.”

  He shook his head. “They were struggling for money, but I refuse to believe that Consuelos would have given up the battle so easily,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

  “If it meant protecting his wife and son, he would,” she said softly. Reaching into her purse, she retrieved the photocopy of the letter Consuelos had left for his son and handed it to him. “You might want to read this.”

  Dane took it and opened it, but didn’t read. “How did you get this? Were you snooping around the Consuelos home as well?”

  She swallowed hard. In truth, she had been, after all. “Josh gave it to me this afternoon. He said he wanted me to use it for my story, to help other fighters.” The tightening in her chest that was never too far away when she thought about the little boy and his mom gripped her and she looked away.

  Dane’s expression had softened from one of anger to one of hopeless defeat. He was silent for a long moment, before clearing his throat. “If . . . uh, this is all you came for, then . . .”

  It wasn’t. Not even close. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask for his forgiveness again. He’d made it clear it was over between them. She straightened her spine and lifted her head. “Yeah, I’ll go now.” Moving past him, his familiar scent a kick to the gut, resisting every urge to touch him, she opened the door. “’Bye, Dane.”

  “’Bye, Colby.”

  * * *

  Damn it.

  As he heard the door close behind her, he resisted the urge to go after her or punch something. Neither would do any good and either would only result in pain. His pain.

  And he had enough of that going on already.

  He sat on the edge of his bed, the letter in his hand, thinking about what she’d said. She was doing the story . . . Soon, everyone would know the truth and it didn’t provide him any relief.

  He wondered if the other thing she said was true. Had Consuelos taken the kick to die? He knew the answer was in his hand, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to read it. He wasn’t sure he needed to. He knew it was true. The look on the man’s face before he went down had always haunted him, but now he understood it.

  He unfolded the sheet of paper and the sight of photocopied tearstains brought tears to his own eyes. The words swam together on the page as he read.

  Dear Little Man,

  I don’t want you to worry about a thing. Soon you will have your surgery and your heart will once again be as strong as your will. And I promise one day, you will achieve all of the dreams we talked about. Just don’t tell your mom about your dream to become a race car driver just yet . . . she needs more time.

  I know you’ve heard us fighting a lot lately, but I want you to know that things are going to get better. And like I promised your mom, this fight will be my last.

  I’m hanging up the gloves for our family’s future and I need you to be strong, no matter if I win or lose tonight. I need you to promise to take care of your mom and to be the little fighter that I know you are.

  I love you.

  Dad

  Dane folded the note and tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in his throat. Consuelos had thrown the fight, had given up the game plan, hoping his death would result from the fight and his family would be taken care of after he was gone.

  He closed his eyes as he lay back on the bed. Colby was doing the right thing telling this story and shutting down the organization. He knew that. Even the Consuelos family wanted that. Maybe them most of all.

  But he struggled to forgive her for lying to him, for using him. He’d been in love with her. Hell, he still was, that was painfully obvious by the way his body had begged him to go to her and wrap his arms around her and never let go. He just wasn’t sure he could let his guard down again. The one person he’d ever truly trusted had been the worst betrayer of all.

  He clutched the note in his hand.

  At the sam
e time, she’d been the only one who’d been able to give him the closure and the redemption he’d desperately sought for so long.

  How was it possible the same woman could break his heart so completely, but be the only one who could piece it back together?

  Chapter 16

  The apprehension Dane had experienced before, during the walk-through of The Joint, was nothing compared to the numbing fear crippling him now.

  He saw nothing. Heard nothing, as he made his way toward the cage. He’d expected the sound of his walk-out music to make him feel like throwing up, but it was worse. He didn’t even hear it. His mind couldn’t settle on one thought long enough to process anything, and as he climbed the cage stairs, he felt as though he were outside, watching himself enter the cage from a distance . . . the way it always appeared in his dream.

  As he stood, shaking his arms and rotating his shoulders in his corner of the cage, he heard Tyson’s voice—faraway and surreal—asking him if he was okay, if he was ready . . .

  No. And no.

  He didn’t answer as he waited.

  Maybe it was a good thing that he couldn’t feel his legs beneath him. It kept him from running out of the cage and away from the intense fear consuming him.

  Rico Mendez’s music started and a few minutes later, he saw the man enter the octagon.

  The wait for the ref to call the start of the fight felt far too long.

  But then, too soon, he moved toward the center of the cage and touched gloves with his opponent.

  “Are you ready?” the ref asked Mendez.

  The man nodded, his gaze locked on Dane.

  “Are you ready?” the ref asked him.

  He must have nodded because a few seconds later, from his corner, he heard the ref call “Fight!” and the clock started for the first five-minute round.

  He made his way to the center, where Mendez was already waiting, but his opponent surprised him by dropping his hands and leaning toward him. “Dane, this is a new day, a new fight, a way out of the hell you’re in.” He tapped his shoulder before moving away and raising his arms.

  Dane blinked. The words echoing in his mind. A way out. One he needed to take.

  He forced a breath and shook off the tightening, suffocating grip of the last year. Rico Mendez may need this fight to end his fighting career, but he knew in that instant that he needed it to restart his.

  * * *

  Colby watched the fight from the reporters’ box near the back of the event center, her heart in her throat as the fight started. Dane was in the cage, and while he’d looked as though he were moving on autopilot a few minutes ago as he circled Mendez, now he looked focused and determined.

  Seeing him was tough. Part of her had been hoping that maybe after he’d read the note from Marco to his son, he might reach out to her, but he hadn’t. She’d only been partially surprised to see him wearing the Edwards’ Propellers’ logo. She knew her father really liked Dane. Her entire family did. He’d fit in . . .

  The time on the clock ticked by as the two men danced around each other. Both had more than enough reason to be cautious in their game plan. This fight meant different things to each of them, but of equal importance.

  The ref yelled at them to start pushing the pace and Mendez moved in, delivering several jabs, connecting with Dane’s jaw. Dane moved out of reach of the right hook that followed, then countered with his own, staggering Mendez.

  Colby held her breath as she watched him capitalize on the unsteady opponent, delivering several uppercuts and a left hook that had Mendez leaning against the cage, covering up.

  She moved to stand closer and saw Mendez strike from his bent position, landing a hard shot to Dane’s ribs that rippled his body. She winced as she saw the veteran fighter follow it up with several jabs and a straight, forcing Dane to retreat slightly.

  The bell sounded, signaling the end of the round, and she released a breath. She wasn’t a judge, but she was certain Dane had won that first round. Despite her aching heart, she smiled.

  He was back.

  * * *

  He was back.

  “That first round was yours. Great job, man . . . Good to see you looking alive out there,” Tyson said in his corner, handing him his water bottle and wiping his forehead with his towel.

  He nodded, forcing air into his lungs. “I feel good. This feels good,” he said. He’d never have thought stepping back into the cage and fighting again would have this liberating effect on him. But suddenly the only thing on his mind was this fight. Winning this fight.

  The bell rang and he stood.

  “Okay, stick to the fight plan. You got this if you want it,” Tyson said, leaving the cage.

  He wanted it. And he didn’t want a decision win at the end of three rounds. He was back. Better than ever. And he wanted the fans who’d stuck by him to know he was prepared to be a better fighter—a champion—from now on.

  As soon as the ref called “fight,” he didn’t hesitate to abandon the fight plan. Crossing the cage in a sprint, he leaped toward Mendez, delivering a superman punch to the man’s jaw. He saw Rico’s head snap back, and his eyes struggled to focus as he regained his balance.

  But Dane wasn’t about to allow him to recover. Moving in, he grabbed the man’s shoulders and delivered a flying knee to his chin.

  He felt Mendez’s body grow limp and a second later he was out on the mat at his feet.

  The noise in the event center was deafening as the ref called the fight due to knockout and his arm was raised in the air. As his gaze surveyed the crowd, it landed on Colby.

  She smiled and he returned it. So much had happened between them, he had no idea where they went from here . . . but he was standing there victorious in that moment because of her.

  * * *

  She should leave.

  The fight was over. Rico “The Bulldog” Mendez had officially announced his retirement, thanking Dane for the chance at a rematch and saying that he’d wanted to retire and “The Gentle Giant” had retired him. Hearing Dane’s fight name given back to him from the well-respected veteran fighter had made the crowd celebrate the win even more, and the two men had embraced inside the cage.

  Now it was over and only a few scattered fans hung around, hoping to grab an autograph on the fighters’ way out.

  She wasn’t hoping for an autograph. She was desperate for so much more, and the smile he’d returned from the cage moments before gave her just enough hope to grasp on to.

  But as she waited in the hallway outside the fighter preparation rooms, where the two fighters were being checked post-fight for injuries by the doctors, her confidence waned.

  The door opened and her breath caught, but it was Tyson who exited.

  “Hi,” she said. “How is he?”

  “After the fight? Or after you?” the coach asked.

  It was a struggle to keep her voice steady as she spoke. “The fight.” She’d already seen the pain she’d inflicted.

  “He’s good. Doctor thinks he may have a fractured rib from some of the body shots he took in the first round, but other than that, he should be back to training in a few weeks.”

  “So he’s decided to continue fighting?”

  Tyson nodded. “He’s reviewing a new fight contract right now,” he said. Then, noticing Parker walking toward them, he said, “He’s having a good night. Maybe just let him enjoy his win.”

  The lump in her throat refused to allow her answer, so she nodded quickly. Of course he was right. What was she thinking, sticking around? She turned to leave, but Parker stopped her.

  “Don’t listen to him,” she said, shooting her boyfriend a look. “Be nice!” she told him.

  Tyson just folded his large, tattooed arms across his chest and stepped back with a shrug.

  Parker touched her arm. “Look, you may have hurt him
, but it’s because of you he returned to fighting. You helped him realize he hadn’t died along with Consuelos that night, and he couldn’t continue to blame himself for something that wasn’t his fault.”

  Obviously Dane had told them the truth about what happened that night.

  “And all I know is he is constantly checking his cell phone at the gym and I’ve caught him staring at your picture more than once,” Parker said, softly. She moved toward the door and opened it. “Go in.”

  Colby nodded, but her legs felt like rubber as she slowly entered the room as the doctor walked out, leaving them alone. “Hi,” she said.

  Sitting on the edge of a portable, fold-out examination table, still in his tight shorts, bandages wrapped around his body to support the damaged rib, he glanced up with a look of surprise. “Hey.”

  “So . . . you won,” she said, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. “Congrats.”

  “Thanks. I, uh, saw you out there after the fight.” His gaze locked with hers.

  “Yeah, I know.” Why was this so hard?

  A silence fell between them as she studied her feet and struggled to find the right words to say to him. “Dane . . .”

  He climbed down from the table and grabbed his shirt. “Tell your dad thanks again for sponsoring me,” he said. “Actually, I’ll tell him. I have to see him tomorrow anyway . . .” He sounded slightly regretful as he continued, “I’ve decided to accept a new contract with the MFL.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, Tyson said. That’s wonderful. Dad will hate losing you as a worker, but he’ll be proud that you’re doing what you love.”

  He stared at her for a long moment and something that looked almost like love flickered in his eyes, but too fast. His expression was quickly unreadable again. Pulling the shirt over his head carefully and wincing slightly, he grabbed his training gear. “Well, I have to go . . .”

  Her heart fell. “Right. Of course.” No doubt there was a celebratory after-fight party he was off to. Where he’d have no trouble finding another woman to take his mind off of any of his pain. “Congrats again,” she said, forcing her voice to be strong.