Hard to Handle

by Lori Foster

  When the talk turned to the SBC, Stasia got out her notebook to jot down thoughts and insights. Dakota went through the history, rules, techniques, and styles.

  Eve and Jacki talked more about the personalities of the fighters. Most, according to them, were honorable men dedicated to their families. But, of course, there were always a few bad apples in the mix.

  “That’s why,” Dakota said, “the SBC wants to feature select fighters, to showcase the more glowing examples.”

  Eve winked. “Meaning Harley.”

  “They’ve already featured my brother and Simon,” Cam told Stasia. “And Harley, with his background, is an obvious choice for their next highlight.”

  Recalling the hints from Harley’s uncle, a million questions popped into Stasia’s mind. “I know he injured his elbow right before the last fight.”

  “Helping me,” Dakota said. After half a minute, she shook her head and met Stasia’s curious gaze. “My ex-husband was a real prick. He’d been hassling me for years. It’s a long story, but when he showed up again—”

  “With a knife,” Jacki clarified.

  “Harley was there.” Dakota gave a solemn smile. “They don’t call him ‘Hard to Handle’ for no reason. He took on three guys without too much trouble. All with a dislocated elbow.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  Jacki made a face. “Gregor said he didn’t even know his arm was hurt until Simon pointed out to him that it was sort of hanging funny.”

  Stasia shuddered. “Omigod. That’s awful.”

  “Yeah.” Dakota rubbed her forehead. “I swear Gregor enjoyed himself. Some other guys showed up, too.”

  Eve let out a breath. “The SBC is a family. The guys stick together. Unfortunately, Harley’s elbow was already dislocated. Not that he let that slow him down when he knew Dakota was in trouble.”

  “They knew how Simon felt about Dakota, so she became family, too.” Jacki smiled. “Or it might have been that they’d feel that way regardless of how things worked out with Simon.”

  Dakota laughed. “Yeah, maybe. But I feel terrible that Harley was unable to fight because of me.”

  Eve slugged her in the arm. “Not because of you. Because of that jerk.”

  “Who’s now doing time,” Cam said. “No one blames Dakota.”

  “But I know Simon struggled with retiring again without giving Harley a shot at the title, all things considered.”

  With complete confidence, Stasia said, “Harley wouldn’t want the shot as a favor, or out of guilt. He’ll get there no matter what. Your husband has no reason to concern himself.”

  The waitress came back to see if anyone wanted dessert. Both Jasmine and Dakota put in orders. Stasia would have liked to, but because she was scheduled to have dinner with Harley in only a few hours, she didn’t want to completely stuff herself.

  Stasia looked at her watch. Luckily, she’d driven separately to the diner. “I should get going.”

  “So soon?” Eve asked.

  Making new friends was always a special treat. Except for Jasmine, whom they’d just met, they were all so close, and yet so different. As a people person, Stasia appreciated the variety.

  “I’m seeing Harley tonight. Gotta get home and prepare.” She bobbed her eyebrows and laughed. “He keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure.”

  “So.” Dakota leaned back in her seat. “You two are romantic?”

  “You know Harley, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think he’s probably trying to run the show.”

  Stasia grinned. “He is running the show, at least for now. But no, we’re not romantic. He made it real clear how he felt about that. But I’ve known him for a while now, and I’m interested in his career, so here I am.”

  A little worried, Eve leaned forward. “I don’t mean to be forward—”

  Stasia waved that away. “Speak freely. I can take it.”

  “Well, you seem more than interested in his career. And let’s face it, Harley’s one of those guys.”

  Cam nodded. “The kind that are hard to resist.”

  “The kind the you don’t want to resist,” Jacki put in.

  “He’s a fighter,” Dakota said. “A good one, with a solid personality to go with it.”

  “In other words, he’s the whole package. I know.” Stasia sighed. “But I think I can handle it.”

  “Handle ‘Hard to Handle’ Handleman?” Dakota gave a crooked smile. “You’ll be way ahead of a lot of fighters, then. Harley has plowed right through most of them. And right now, he’s doubly distracted with opponents, because it doesn’t look like Simon is going back. I begged and pleaded, but he wants to retire.”

  “You want him to fight?” Stasia asked.

  “I want him to be happy. I don’t want him giving up anything for me.” She shrugged. “He says he’s not.”

  “He says,” Eve confided, “that she’s irresistible and he can’t stay away from her. I know, because Dean was bitching about it.”

  They all laughed.

  Stasia enjoyed the female camaraderie, and how easily the women shared the male perspectives. “So if Harley doesn’t fight Simon, then who?”

  Everyone looked at Dakota.

  She propped her elbows on the table. “Well, scuttlebutt has it that Kevin Kinkaid, better known as Killer, is due for a big fight. The way I think it’ll roll out is that they’ll fight Harley and Kevin, and whoever wins that fight will get a title fight against Andrei Mann.”

  Stasia was amazed at her knowledge. “Killer Kinkaid?”

  “Yeah, cute nickname, huh?” She rolled her eyes. “A few years back, he knocked three guys out in a row, and then broke the next guy’s arm in two places.”

  Stasia’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Don’t look like that. He didn’t do anything illegal or overly brutal, although he now has the rep anyway. Sometimes, when a fighter’s adrenaline is pumping, he doesn’t realize how close to jeopardy he is. The guy Kinkaid fought didn’t tap, even in a tight arm bar. He was still swinging at Kinkaid, so Kinkaid applied a little more pressure and…snap.”

  The women all winced.

  “Even after the break, the guy didn’t know he was injured. It was Kinkaid who clued in the ref. He stopped the fight, they called in the doc, and sure enough, she pronounced the arm broken. It wasn’t until later that everyone found out just how badly broken it was.”

  “Does that happen often?”

  “Luckily, no.”

  Stasia gulped. “So if Harley beats Kinkaid—”

  “Don’t let Harley hear you say if. And don’t worry about it. I think he will.”

  A fraction of Stasia’s tension eased. “Okay, so he’ll beat Kinkaid, and then he’ll have to fight Mann?”

  “That’s my prediction, but it hasn’t been announced or anything yet. Harley should hear something soon. Since Simon is retiring again”—she paused to smile and show her pride—“then it only makes sense for them to go through the ranks and pit the best together.”

  “So you’re saying that those with the best records are Harley, Kinkaid, and Mann.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Gregor’s in a different weight class,” Jacki pointed out. “But he’ll be going for a belt soon, too.”

  “Next time up,” Dakota predicted. “He’s due. But for the light heavyweights…those are the three guys that I’ve narrowed it down to. We’ll see.”

  By the time Stasia left the lunch, she felt she had not only the “on paper” explanation of the sport, but an emotional take on it, too. Each of the wives had a different love/respect/acceptance for ultimate fighting, so their viewpoints differed. What stayed the same was their love of the fighters they’d married.

  With fighters traveling so much, not just within the country now but all over the world, it wouldn’t be an easy alliance. Training took major dedication, and while it seemed the men did a great job balancing it all, their caree
r choice wouldn’t be ideal for many women.

  What Stasia wanted to know now, more than anything else, was the reason behind Harley’s other missed title belt opportunities. She had a feeling Dakota knew, but Stasia hadn’t asked, and Dakota hadn’t offered.

  They both accepted that it was Harley’s private information to share, and they both respected that.

  It was getting dark when Stasia pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. After a sunny, mostly mild day, night brought with it a definite chill. But after the horrid conditions at Echo Lake, she wouldn’t complain.

  Lifting her purchases out of her truck, she hurried across the lot and in the front doors. It surprised her to find Harley and Barber standing inside. Because Harley still wore his coat, she assumed he’d just arrived.

  “You’re early,” she accused. Just once she’d like to be totally put together for him. So far he’d seen her chopping wood, half-frozen and shaken from fear, and frazzled from a long trip.

  Harley gave her a quick once-over, and he didn’t smile. “I’m here to see Simon.”

  His ice-cold iron control was back. Surely he and Simon weren’t about to butt heads. She knew Harley would be disappointed at Simon’s decision to retire, but she couldn’t see him holding a grudge over it.

  She looked around the hotel lobby. “Simon is here?”

  “He’s stopping by to see Barber.”

  Stasia looked at Harley’s friend. “You’re staying here, too?”

  “Roger gives the band a suite of rooms whenever we perform at the bar. It’s part of our pay package.”

  “Oh. That’s nice.”

  “And convenient.” Barber must’ve picked up on her concerns because he squeezed her shoulder. “They aren’t going to maul each other, Anastasia. Meeting in my room guarantees no press.”

  “And no photos,” Harley said.

  “Oh, of course. An out-of-the-way place makes perfect sense.” She smiled at them.

  They stared back politely, but as if they had other things to do and she was holding them up.

  “Well…” Stasia started sidling away. “I need to shower and stuff, so I guess I’ll see you in a little while.”

  “I’ll come to your room to get you at six.”

  “Right.” Might as well use the opportunity to get more information on the upcoming evening. “You didn’t say where we were going. How should I dress?”

  Though he never looked away from her face, Harley’s gaze grew heated. Almost as a challenge, he suggested softly, “Wear a skirt.”

  The way he said that, Stasia knew the skirt was more for him than the sake of proper attire. But she wouldn’t let him continue to fluster her.

  She smiled without a care. “No problem. I can do that.” Luckily, she’d just bought the perfect outfit. She took two steps. “’Bye, Barber.”

  “Enjoy the shower, doll.”

  The last thing Stasia saw was Harley putting Barber in a headlock.

  Barber’s laughter followed her down the hall.

  CHAPTER 15

  LOUNGED out on one of the two full-size beds in Barber’s room, Harley stared toward the television, but he didn’t really see or hear it. His thoughts centered on Stasia.

  In the shower. Naked.

  Would she wear a skirt as he instructed? Without realizing it, he smiled.

  Stasia could be so unpredictable. She didn’t pull her punches verbally or emotionally. He could count on her to give it to him straight—whatever it was she wanted to give him.

  If she offered more half-baked analysis on his fighting style, he’d have to set her straight. Anything else…well, it’d be worth it to see her again. Something about her relaxed him. Even when she talked nonsense on stuff she didn’t understand, he enjoyed her. Her face, her voice, the scent of her—

  “Damn, brother, you look like a man planning a full-blown pillage.”

  Harley spared a glance for Barber, who put the safety catch in the door so it wouldn’t close all the way. “Just thinking.”

  “About women. Or should I say woman—Stasia.” Barber left the partially opened door and went to prepare a fresh carafe of coffee. After turning down the sports station that neither of them was listening to, he dropped down to the other bed.

  “She’s up to something.”

  He looked at Harley. “Not that you’re paranoid or anything, right?”

  “Just cautious.” Harley thought about what he said. He wasn’t a man who shared a lot of himself, but now he found he wanted feedback. “She thinks I’m too controlling.”

  Barber flashed him a sideways look. “Well, duh, doofus. I coulda told you that Stasia wasn’t the type who’d take to handcuffs.”

  Prickling alarm shot up his spine. Never, not once, had Harley told anyone, not even a best bud, about his sexual preferences. Beyond being respectful of the women he entertained, it was just plain private.

  Only the women he’d been with, and Stasia, knew what he liked. But damn it, Stasia wouldn’t have said anything. He trusted her sense of discretion.

  Turning his head, Harley sent a menacing glare at Barber. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  He lifted his brows. “Sorry, man, but chicks talk. You should know that. And your blond bimbo—what was her name? Gloria? Anyway, she’s spreading the word that you tied her up and did the nasty to her, and she loved it.”

  Gloria. “Shit.”

  Barber sympathized. “Yeah. Nothing is sacred, huh? Not even a little bondage between kink-loving partners.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Barber.” Harley sat up. If Gloria was shooting off her mouth, there was a chance the press could get wind of it.

  How would the SBC react? Not that it was any of their damn business. His private life was just that—private.

  “Don’t sweat it, dude. Far as I could tell, everyone she blabbed to was either impressed or intrigued.”

  Scrubbing both hands over his face, Harley contemplated how he’d handle the news if or when it came to slap him in the face.

  “I say run with it,” Barber suggested. “It’ll give the gossipers something juicy to sink their teeth into.”

  “Can you be quiet one damn minute?”

  Barber grinned. “I guess that means I can’t beg details out of you?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Harley. It’s not a big deal.”

  “I have too much on the line to let it get blown now over something so stupid.” Feeling antsy, unable to relax, Harley got to his feet and paced. “After three failed attempts at the belt…”

  “Look at it this way, bud. All the delays have built the anticipation. I for one can’t wait to see you take the title. I know a boatload of fans feel the same. The more the fans get to know you, the more they love you. You’re a rebel. Everyone digs that shit, so seriously, don’t go off the deep end, okay?”

  But Harley didn’t want more anticipation. He just wanted the fight. Now.

  To change the subject, Barber said, “I’m sick of hotel rooms.”

  Relieved to have something else to talk about, Harley said, “So get yourself a house.”

  “I travel so damn much, there’s no point.” Barber put an arm behind his head. “You like having a house?”

  Harley thought about it. “Satch likes it.”

  “Do you?”

  “The privacy is nice.”

  “Even with your uncle living with you?”

  “I think he always will.” It was just a fact of life that Satch considered them an inseparable team. “I like the pool and having a basement full of gym equipment. And ya know, I even look forward to cutting the grass in the summer.”

  “Yeah.” Barber chewed that over, then grinned as he came full circle. “Maybe if you let go of the ropes and chains, you could get Stasia to play house with you.”

  “Butt out, Barber.” Harley wasn’t about to discuss Stasia with anyone, not even a friend.

  “So…were there ropes and chains involved?”

  Too fas
t for Barber to duck, Harley snatched up a magazine and flung it at him. It whacked him in the head.

  Laughing, Barber held up a hand of surrender. “You’re so touchy these days.” He tsked. “If I could find the perfect woman, I’d settle down in a heartbeat.”

  “Your idea of the perfect woman is already married, you ass.”

  That took Barber’s mood on a sour turn, and he cursed as he sat up. “Why the hell does everyone insist on thinking I’m still in love with Dakota?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” Simon pushed open the unlatched door. “It’s damned annoying.”

  Barber grinned. “You’re early, Sublime.”

  “Or you wouldn’t have been discussing my wife?”

  Harley watched Simon. Had he overheard Barber ribbing about bondage? If so, he didn’t show it. As usual, Simon Evans was the epitome of control.

  Only when it came to Dakota; then he always looked a little riled.

  “Come on, Sublime! I have nothing but respect for her, I swear.”

  “Yeah, right.” Simon came over to Harley and offered a hand. “Good to see you, Harley. How’s the elbow?”

  “Good as new.” They shared a handshake and then moved to the small round table in the corner. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

  “Not a problem. I need to visit Barber occasionally anyway, just to deliver a kick to the pants so he remembers that Dakota is my wife.”

  Barber protested that with a laugh. “It’s not something I’m likely to forget, now am I?” He turned a chair and straddled it. “I’ve moved on, Sublime. You know that. She knows that. In fact, I’ve got a new gal to sing with the band.”

  “Yeah?” Simon eyed him. “If she’s a clone of my wife, I’m definitely kicking your ass.”

  That even made Harley laugh. “If she’s the redhead I saw, she’s not a thing like Dakota.”

  “Not even close,” Barber agreed. “She’s a girly girl. Manicure, superlong red hair. Prissy clothes. And she’s got some extra padding.”

  Simon’s mouth twisted. “You’re right—that’s nothing like Dakota.”

  “All that, and you’re adding her to the band?” Harley asked, disbelieving the probability of it. She didn’t sound like Barber’s usual fare, or a woman who’d mesh with a hard rock, unruly group.