Stacked Up: Worth the Fight Series

by Sidney Halston

  The medic checked his eye, jaw, and nose. Someone in his corner pressed an enswell against his face. The cold steel instrument stung on contact as someone poured water into his mouth. He saw the blood dripping from his nose to the floor.

  “You got two girls waiting on you. Don’t get fucking cocky. You hear me?” Tony had both arms on his shoulders, trying to get Travis’s unfocused eyes to focus on his. “You listening?”

  Travis nodded.

  “You got this! This belt’s yours. You smell the sand and ocean?” Slade yelled, reminding him of his dream to go relax on the beach. “You’re already there, man. Hear me?”

  Travis nodded again as they patted petroleum jelly on his cuts and took the cotton balls out of his nose, which had stopped bleeding.

  “Two more rounds, man,” Slade said. “Don’t throw a goddamn punch unless you hear me say so. You keep your guard. Tire out the sonofabitch.”

  “Be that ninja we never see coming,” Tony added. “Quiet and fast. That’s you.” He squeezed Travis’s shoulder.

  Travis stood and did just what Slade and Tony said. He avoided being hit. He moved out of the way, he ducked, he pivoted. He was behind Lemmon when his opponent tried to land a hit. When the five minutes were over, Travis was worn out. He opened his mouth and pushed the guard out of his mouth. One more round.

  “Good!” Tony exclaimed. “Fucking fantastic.”

  “That’s it, brother. We’re there. You’re at the beach. You won. Last round. You see it right, victory is yours. Focus on my voice, and when I say swing, you swing,” Slade said.

  “You got this!” Tony assured him.

  “We’re proud of you. Now get up and finish this shit.”

  Travis got up; it felt like he had boulders holding down his legs, but he pulled the energy from deep inside. His target stood in front of him, looking as tired as he did. They both circled each other as the seconds ticked by. Lemmon measured his distance a few times but didn’t throw a punch. They were down to the final minute of the biggest fight of his life. It was being recorded both for pay per view and for Fight Night, which had already sent over the contract for another season at twice the money. He’d get paid no matter if he won or lost this fight, but winning would give him a huge bonus. He wanted Belle never to want for anything. Never would his daughter feel the need to hustle for a single thing in her life.

  Lemmon threw a kick that grazed Travis’s hip, sending pain shooting down his leg. He heard Slade’s voice, from his corner: “Right hook. He’s open!”

  Travis threw the punch, which landed hard against Lemmon’s ribs, causing him to crumple. Travis pressed his knee on Lemmon’s belly and landed five punches on his face before the referee jumped in between the two fighters and stopped the match as the crowd rose, cheering.

  Travis won by TKO. The famous announcer who had also commented during some of the episodes of Fight Night was at the center of the ring, holding Travis’s arm up. “The new heavyweight champion…Travis ‘Texas’ Calhoun!” he announced as someone else put the gold world champion’s belt around him.

  His corner rushed to his side, microphones were held up to him, and questions were thrown his way. Slade and Tony tackled him in hugs, lifting him up with the new belt around him. The new Worth the Fight Academy prize-winning fighter. All his hard work had paid off.

  Before the fight, Travis had decided it was best not to let Belle watch, since she didn’t like to see Travis hurt. But he also didn’t want her too far, so JL and Enzo had agreed to watch her during the fight in one of the team’s suites in the hotel. So he was surprised when Penny and Belle came into the ring as they finished mopping up the floors around him. Ignoring whatever technical question he was being asked by the commentator, he turned and opened his arms to his girls.

  “My Twavis won!” Belle yelled.

  “My man is the new owner of this belt!” Penny yelled. “I’m so proud of you!”

  With a belt around his waist, Penny in one arm, and Belle in the other, life was perfect. And for the first time in his life, he couldn’t wait for the future.

  “I love you, momma!”

  “I love you, cowboy!” she said, kissing him in front of all the damn reporters in the entire arena.

  Epilogue

  Travis stood at the front of the small church, looking out at all the people he cared about. Jack and Chrissy sat together laughing at something Slade was saying. Next to Slade was Jessica, holding his hand, but talking to Francesca. Next to Francesca was Tony, who was chatting with Cain, Violet’s head resting on his shoulder. In the pew in front of them, right in the first row, was his sister, whom he’d loved all his life, with her husband and his best friend, Enzo, each holding one of their children. JL turned and found Travis’s eyes. She put a hand on her heart, mouthing, “I love you,” and he did the same. As the music began he unconsciously rubbed the tattoo of the puzzle piece on the back of his neck, the one he’d gotten with her. His sister was amazing and strong, and she had been the only light in his otherwise dark existence until he’d met Penny and Belle.

  He looked around and saw Iggy flirting with the producer of Fight Night, who was there as a guest. He saw Olivia and Will, Patsy, and even Joe. But no one mattered as much as Penny.

  They had already been through a lot. They didn’t need a big wedding. In fact, they had been planning to elope, but JL had convinced Travis that Penny deserved more than a Vegas elopement. So here they were a month later in a small church in Tarpon Springs, with all the people that mattered to them most gathered to watch them exchange vows.

  That morning Francesca had given them the best present possible: she’d arranged for all the adoption papers to become finalized and paid all the expenses, and had given it to them as a gift. He now had a daughter, legally and officially, and she was wobbling her way toward him in a poofy white dress, curls of blond hair flowing around her cherubic face.

  “Daddy!” she said when she reached him.

  He didn’t even bother to hold back the tears. He bent down and kissed her plump cheek. “I love you, baby girl.”

  “Wuv you, Twavis,” she replied, and his heart soared. Then the music changed and his breath caught.

  Penny wore a classy yet simple floor-length lace dress. She held a small bundle of white roses in her hands, and her brown hair was loose down her back, except for a simple crystal pin that held back a swoop of hair on one side. He was glad they were getting married in a church. Her faith was strong and made her who she was, and he loved her because of it.

  “Mama!”

  “Hi,” Penny whispered when she made it to the front.

  “Hi,” he answered, his voice thick with emotions.

  “Pwetty Mama,” Belle said.

  “Beautiful momma,” Travis agreed.

  Olivia came forward and tried to take Belle, as had been rehearsed.

  “No,” she cried. “My Twavis.”

  “Honey, come with me and Megs.”

  Belle hugged Travis harder. “My Twavis,” she repeated.

  “It’s okay, Olivia. I’ll hold her.”

  He turned to his soon-to-be wife, who had tears in her big brown eyes. “I have a confession to make to you. I loved her first.” He kissed Belle’s cheek. “From the moment she first said Twavis, I knew it. It hit me straight in the heart. She’s my daughter, and I’ll thank God every single day that you allowed me to be her father.”

  “I’ll tell you a little secret,” Penny replied. “I knew that. I saw it in your eyes and I saw it in hers, and that, my sweet cowboy, is why I fell head over heels in love with you. Because you, Travis, are the best man I’ve ever known.”

  This book is dedicated to all the single mothers out there. You guys are the real warriors! You inspire me.

  Acknowledgments

  Writing these acknowledgments is bittersweet. This is the final book of a series that changed my life. Making a career change as an adult with three kids is something I never envisioned happening. But, I wouldn’t ha
ve changed the events that led me to this moment for anything. The characters in this book feel like dear friends, and finishing this series with Travis, who has been with the series since Against the Cage, just felt right. It took me forever to finish writing this book because it was so difficult to let these friends go.

  This time I want to start with the readers. Thank you all for loving this little MMA Academy I’ve created for you, where the men have huge hearts and lots of abs! Thank you!

  The two New Yorkers I adore: none of this could’ve been possible without Sarah E. Younger, my agent. She sweetly (and diplomatically) puts up with me and makes me feel important when I know she has a billion more important things to do than answer my crazy and redundant questions. You, Sarah, are stuck with me because I’d never want to work with anyone else (and you have the best gifs). But, seriously, you are the best, and I thank you for everything you’ve done to make this series so successful and for always looking out for my best interests. And then, of course, my editor, Junessa Viloria. Nothing makes my day brighter than receiving an email that says: “Hey, can you look through all these pictures of men and see which one you like best.” (For a cover, of course.) I mean, how can I not love you? And, to top it off, you make my jumbled and sometimes unorganized thoughts into actual stories. Thank you for your patience and support in making this series so special. I hope we’ll be working together for many more series to come!

  One of the best things that has happened since I began writing is all the online friends I’ve made. I consider most of you to be my true friends, even if we haven’t met in person. I’ll start with Heather Marie and Leisha. I don’t know if you two understand how important your feedback is. You are the first to read my stories and your comments really do help make the final story possible. I can’t thank you enough and I can’t wait to meet you both! To the COPA ladies, thank you so much for all your support, funny comments, and just for being awesome women.

  My family, especially my husband: It’s not easy to have a career, three kids, a house to maintain, and deadlines to meet. If it wasn’t for your help and constant support I couldn’t live my dream. There are just no words that can express how thankful I am to have you and how much I love you. And to my kiddies, who will never be able to read any of this, I love you!

  And, finally, a big HUGE thank-you to all the bloggers who support my books—I wish I could list you all one by one. You guys are really invaluable to me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

  BY SIDNEY HALSTON

  Worth the Fight

  Against the Cage

  Full Contact

  Below the Belt

  Laid Out

  Fighting Dirty

  Stacked Up

  PHOTO: © GABRIEL ESCUDERO

  SIDNEY HALSTON lives her life by one simple rule: “Just do it.” And that’s exactly what she did. At the age of thirty, having never written anything other than a legal brief, she picked up a pen for the first time to pursue her dream of becoming an author. That first stroke sealed the deal, and she fell in love with writing. Halston lives in south Florida with her husband and children.

  Want to connect with Sidney Halston?

  sidneyhalston.com

  Facebook.com/Sidneyhalston

  @SidneyHalston

  Read more from Sidney Halston

  The Editor’s Corner

  Swing into spring this May with Loveswept! We’ve got something for everyone, so take your pick from these fabulous romance books.

  Tracy March brings you another enchanting novel set in Colorado, with book two in her Thistle Bend series, Just Say Maybe. Brenda Rothert releases her first Loveswept book, Blown Away, a sensual, emotionally charged novel of love and loss in which a tender affair gives two daring storm chasers the strength to overcome shattered dreams and the courage to build a future together. Then we go from extreme weather to the world of extreme sports with Zoe Dawson’s pulse-pounding Mavrick Allstars series debut, the steamy Ramping Up. Bestselling author HelenKay Dimon makes her Loveswept debut with Mr. and Mr. Smith. Moving on from the suspenseful to the sensual is a novel of pleasure and persuasion revolving around a high-stakes business deal in which the rules of negotiation are defined by desire in Shawntelle Madison’s Bound to You. New York Times bestselling author Noelle Adams introduces a notorious tech mogul who makes a mild-mannered woman an offer she can’t refuse and gets in return a battle for control—and a million-dollar affair—in Fooling Around. The Hunt Club continues with Pamela Labud’s A Most Delicate Pursuit. New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy follows Nashville’s hottest country music duo as they fight for love in a city where dreams often cost a broken heart in Heart Breaker. And New York Times bestselling author Sawyer Bennett proves that vengeance is sweet—but seduction is to die for—in Sugar Daddy.

  Wait—there’s more! Gina Gordon’s White Lace series continues in book two with lots of sizzle and heat in Reason to Believe. A. M. Madden continues the True Heroes series—hot hero alert!—with Glass Ceilings. Two tortured souls share an unbreakable bond even as they break taboos, as Laura Marie Altom does it again with a fabulous stepbrother romance in Stepping Over the Line. Back in the sporting world, Stacked Up continues the Worth the Fight series from USA Today bestselling author Sidney Halston. And Interference continues the Pilot Hockey series from Sophia Henry, where a young single mom falls for a damaged coach pulling double duty as a cop.

  It’s a great month for relationships, so follow us on Facebook and Twitter and let the romance begin!

  Facebook.com/readloveswept

  @readloveswept

  Until next month ~Happy Romance!

  Gina Wachtel

  Associate Publisher

  Read on for an exciting sneak peek of the first book in Sidney Halston’s new Panic series:

  Pull Me Close

  Available from Loveswept

  Chapter 1

  Dread

  Katherine

  Panic.

  Blood-curdling fear.

  It was a contrast to all the happy, carefree people at the exclusive Miami Beach nightclub. I used to be like that—but that was a long time ago. So long ago, it’s but a fuzzy memory at the back of my mind causing me nothing but melancholy now. I used to be one of these happy, carefree people, swaying, thrusting, and rubbing against complete strangers. Foreplay is what it is, really. Instead, my hands are clammy and shaking. Thumping bass tattoos against my heart and pulsating strobe lights are making me dizzy. I am two minutes away from ruining my sister’s engagement party by throwing up all over her expensive designer shoes. And I’ve only been here for half an hour.

  Because of the loud music, I tap hard on her shoulder to get her attention and point toward the far wall, where the restrooms are located. With barely open eyes and a loopy drunken grin, she gives me a thumbs-up and continues to sway her hips to the EDM music with a group of her friends I’ve just met. The guys, including her new fiancé, are at one of the bars on the other side of the club getting everyone drinks. I envy them because they’re having fun, oblivious to everything around them, while I’m a prisoner.

  Fun.

  What a foreign term for me.

  The sickening feeling of impending dread is my norm. That sinking sensation you feel when you just know that something bad is going to happen—that’s how I feel when I’m outside the four walls of my apartment, which means that I don’t have time to dwell on my sister and her friends. Nor do I have time for self-pity. Instead, I hightail it to the bathroom, unprepared to stand in the long line of inebriated, scantily dressed women. Impatiently I wait there for my turn while feeling the walls begin to close in on me. My palms are now a sweaty, drippy mess, and the queasiness hits me in a wave of nausea that has me covering my mouth in order to stop myself from throwing up. Leaning a hand against the dirty wall by the bathroom door, I hang my head low, and my heart beats faster and faster while the club spins around me in an orgy of lights, strange faces, and deafeningly loud sounds.
I need to find a quick exit, and I need to do so right now.

  I am dying.

  I have to be. It is the only way I can describe how I feel. The tightness around my chest is unbearable and my skin is covered in sweat. Quickly I look left, then right. Where’s the damn exit? I know I must look hysterical to anyone watching me, but I don’t care. I need to get out of here. My breath quickens and my abdominal muscles cramp as I double over, about to lose my lunch in the middle of the trendiest nightclub in all of Miami Beach.

  “Hey, you okay?” the woman in line behind me asks, her pupils unnaturally dilated. Unable to speak, I nod, but she isn’t buying it because she makes a disgusted face and steps back. I close my eyes and press my forehead against the wall knowing that people are skipping ahead of me, but it doesn’t matter because I’m unable to move. Faster and faster my heart beats, and sweat drips down my spine while I try to suck in a breath.

  I count to ten and try to work on my relaxation techniques and all the cognitive behavioral therapy I’ve been reading about. I close my eyes and think about the ocean breeze against my skin and the sand between my toes. Months ago I Googled “panic attacks” and found that having a happy place is important and, incidentally, beaches were the most popular “happy places.” So that became my happy place. I stole it from Google and from a million other people like me who need happy places. But tonight it’s of no use. Feeling the blood begin to slowly drain down my body, the last thing I remember is trying to clutch the wall as I fall down into a pit of darkness.

  Nick

  “Swear to God, Bethany, I catch you one more time in my club and I’m having you arrested.”

  “Nick, please. Don’t be like that.” She runs a chipped nail down my neck, and I push it away. I remember a time, in my early twenties, when I was mostly drunk, stupid, and high, when I used to find Bethany gorgeous. She was the older woman we all wanted. My friends and I would run to the bar and fetch her and her friends drinks like the stupid young pussy-chasers that we were. Now she looks worn out, and that older experienced-looking woman I once found attractive just looks sloppy. With overly processed blond hair, tanned skin that now looks like leather, and fake tits that are practically on display since the strap on her too-tight dress has fallen down her arm, Bethany is a mess. I remember how she used to give my younger self a hard-on, but now I just feel disgust.