The Cocky Cage Fighter Six Book Box Set

by Lane Hart

  "Oh fuck!" I'm pretty sure Linc is the asshole that's standing behind us, gawking while giving everyone in the gym a good look at the destruction. Pushing myself up, I get to my feet and reach down, lifting Alyssa from the debris.

  "Did I hurt you?" I ask her, and she shakes her head, hand over her mouth, still unable to speak because of her laughter. Once our onlookers realize we're okay, their snickers also fill the room.

  "What the hell happened?" Linc asks.

  "I need a new desk," I tell him and clear my throat. "One with a weight limit of at least ah...how much do you weigh?" I ask Alyssa.

  "About one-twenty." She actually answers the question I meant as a joke.

  "Okay, the next desk needs to be a solid piece that can hold at least three-hundred pounds," I tell Linc.

  "I better make that an order for two," he mutters before walking away.

  “Three!” I hear Jude call out.

  I spot Alyssa's cell phone on the floor and pick it up to hand to her. Her cheeks are a bright pink, either from embarrassment, humor or arousal. Damn inferior office equipment ruined a perfectly good time.

  "I should go," she says with one last look at the splintered wood.

  Shit.

  "Okay. See you Tuesday?" I ask since she hasn’t agreed to anything else. But I’m not giving up.

  She nods, and I lean down to kiss her cheek before she leaves.

  "Who was that woman?” Luke Campbell asks after Alyssa walks out the door and everyone else goes back to what they were doing before the interruption.

  "Alyssa Grant. Her little boy, Grayson, is gonna be taking classes here," I tell him as I start picking up the papers and things that scattered, mostly because I don’t want to be having this conversation with him.

  "And you’re…dating her?” he asks.

  “Trying to,” I say, implying that he could single-handedly shut that shit down with a few simple words to her. For some reason, he’s kept my and Eli’s secret from the rest of the guys for this long. I hope he doesn’t have any plans to start running his mouth now.

  “That’s good,” he responds, surprising me. “You’re allowed to date whoever you want.”

  “Ah, thanks,” I say, oddly relieved to have his blessing.

  “We had a memorial at church last week,” he says, making me cringe.

  “I know, and I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

  “Yeah, well, everyone grieves in their own way.”

  “Right,” I say.

  For the past three years, I’ve grieved by shutting myself off from the world. I’ve even given up cage fighting. There’s no way I can deal with all the blood loss of real fights because it reminds me of the night of the accident. Having a nearly photographic memory really sucks since I can’t forget the way the glass looked, piercing Eli’s neck as the blood gushed out, or the agonized expression on his face until his heart finally stopped beating moments before EMS arrived.

  Those are the nightmares I’ll probably never get rid of. But now, for the first time in three years, I’m starting to think it might be possible for me to actually move on from my grief if I can just get the stubborn woman to agree. And if my past won’t send her running…

  …

  Alyssa

  I'm not sure what's making me more nervous, letting Grayson have his first class or the thought of seeing Nathan again. Of course, he hasn't called me since I left Havoc on Sunday, but he doesn't have my number.

  Candice has been nagging me since I went back to work yesterday morning, asking if he’s the man we’re looking for and when can she expect the write up. I tried to put her off, but she gave me the whole time is of the essence spiel and that we need to run the story before the public’s interest dies down. I don’t think that will happen.

  Everyone still wants to know who the silent hero is, including patrons who were at the bar that night and didn’t get a chance to thank him personally. Hell, even the mayor wants him to come forward and receive an honorary award for his selflessness.

  Now that I know Nathan, I can definitely see him as the one who single-handedly took down a gunman. While a strong, silent type, his muscular body still vibrates with a controlled type of physical power that I hate to admit I want to see unleashed, maybe in a bed with the absence of clothes. Which probably explains why the hero and heroine in my recent work in progress have been getting it on like wild rabbits.

  "Are you ready?" I ask Grayson, pushing those erotic thoughts aside for now. Grayson gives a quick nod as I hold the gym door open for him to step inside. God, I hope I'm not making a huge mistake.

  We check in at the front desk where I have to fill out some forms and sign releases. Since Grayson is already wearing his sweats, we go down to the room where the class will be held. There's a few other boys who look his age standing around in the hallway, a couple of parents waiting with them.

  "You sure you want to do this?" I hear a mother ask her son.

  "Yes!"

  "Just be careful, okay?"

  "I will, mom. Now please leave. You're embarrassing me," the boy hisses.

  "Do you know what time class usually ends?" the mother looks up and asks me. She's an older woman, middle-aged with a short haircut.

  "Sorry, this is his first class too," I reply with a smile, squeezing Grayson’s shoulders.

  "Jacob, you hear that? You won't be the only newbie."

  "Hi," he says to Grayson. Before long the two are talking about Star Wars and Pokémon like old friends. Then it's time for class to start.

  I find a place against the wall in the back to stand while the place fills up. When Nathan and the dark-haired guy from the front, Jude, walk in, the place goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop on the mats. The two men introduce themselves; and when Nathan sees me, he winks in my direction. Together they go through a few kicks and punches that they have the kids practice several times as the two walk around and give pointers. I hear Nathan whisper to Grayson that he’s doing great.

  Once it looks like everyone has the combination of moves down, Nathan and Jude have the kids line up in four rows to practice hitting red, free standing bags instead of each other, which is a relief. I move to the side of the room along with the other moms and dads to snap a few photos on my phone. Not only do I want to capture Grayson’s first class, but I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen him smiling so much or looking so happy. And Nathan and Jude are both great with all the kids, encouraging them. Even their criticisms are followed by a compliment like, “That was an awesome kick; but if you aim a little higher next time, it’ll be even better.”

  For some reason, I can’t help but picture what it would be like if Austin were here with me, observing Grayson’s first class. He wasn’t very easygoing or…gentle with his words, so teaching would never be his strong suit. Austin was more likely to just blurt “No, you’re doing it wrong” when I would try and cook something for him or “That’s not the right way” when I was cleaning. He was a man who liked everything done a certain way. His way, or it was wrong. I exhale a heavy breath that Grayson, who is already very sensitive, thankfully won’t have to grow up with his harshness. Then, I instantly regret those horrible thoughts. I never wanted Austin to die, but I can’t say I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him either.

  Chapter Eight

  Nate

  “Mom? Dad?” I call out when I enter my parents’ house. Of course now the place reminds me of bringing Alyssa here the other night, but what doesn’t remind me of that woman?

  She barely even waved goodbye at the end of class last night before she ushered the little professor out the door. I hope it’s not because she was avoiding me, but because she was being cautious and just didn’t want Grayson to know about us yet.

  “Hi, honey,” my mom calls out from the kitchen. “Come make yourself a plate. You look too skinny.”

  “You haven’t even seen me yet,” I reply with a chuckle when I make my way in that direction.

  “Yeah, well, I ju
st saw you the other day, and your ribs are showing,” she counters.

  “Based on the smell of your lasagna and garlic bread, I’ll probably be a middleweight by the end of the night,” I joke when I’m standing behind her at the oven.

  “Hurry up and fix your plate,” she says when she turns around and kisses my cheek. “I want to hear all about the girl you brought over Saturday night. What was her name? Alyssa?”

  “Yeah, Alyssa,” I confirm while spooning a serving or more of everything onto my plate.

  Of course I knew my parents’ interrogation was coming, but my mom begs me to come eat dinner with them once or twice a week. Since I feel guilty if I don’t and can’t stay away forever, I figured I might as well get the questions over with tonight.

  “Hi, Dad,” I say after I have a plate loaded with carbs and a garden salad and take my usual seat at the four person table.

  “How’s Havoc?” he asks without looking up from his own half-eaten plate of lasagna.

  “Same old,” I tell him. “How’s work?”

  “Same old,” he repeats.

  And that’s it. Our usual forced verbal exchange is now complete. Odds are neither of us will speak to the other unless absolutely necessary.

  For the past three years, this has been the norm, although I guess there’s been some improvement since he refused to speak a word to me the first six months or so after the accident.

  “Now, tell us about Alyssa,” my mom says as soon as she takes her seat.

  “There’s nothing really to tell,” I say, not wanting her to get her hopes up. “She’s a recent military widow with a seven-year-old son.”

  “Aw, how sad,” my mom murmurs softly. “Did you tell her you could commiserate with losing someone you loved so young?”

  “Donna,” my dad snaps in warning.

  “Why weren’t you at the memorial last week?” Mom asks, plowing ahead through shit we don’t talk about instead of heeding my father’s caution.

  “I didn’t know about it,” I fudge even though I hate lying to my parents.

  “But I left you a voicemail two nights before and texted you the day of.”

  “Must have missed them,” I lie.

  “The Campbells asked how you were.” She keeps right on going, refusing to drop it.

  “Uh-huh,” I mutter, cramming forkfuls of food into my mouth so that she might give up and move the conversation along to something else. God, she has no idea how brutal the guilt trip is when she tells me this sort of shit. I know my mom means well, but damn. Just when I think I’m handling the weight of regret and remorse, I see Luke at the gym, or my mom brings it up, and it’s like that burden quadruples, nearly crushing me to death.

  “I’m so glad you’re dating again,” my mom mutters between bites of lasagna. “Maybe Alyssa will help fill your emptiness, and you can do the same for her.”

  “Maybe,” I agree with a sigh.

  “Goddamn it!” my dad shouts into the silence before tossing down his silverware onto his plate with a loud clatter that causes my entire body to tense. “Don’t you fucking dare get your mother’s hopes up or some poor woman’s.”

  And with that pronouncement, he leaves the table, storming out the back door, and slamming it behind him for good measure in case we hadn’t figured out he’s angry.

  I push my plate away, no longer hungry, especially after my mom’s sniffles become the only sounds filling in the room.

  There’s nothing worse than disappointing your parents. It’s the reason I worked so hard to keep them in the dark until the night all of my skeletons were thrown from the closet. Only our two families realized the truth, since Eli lied to his girlfriend, Megan, telling her he was sick and didn’t want to go out on his birthday, and lied to his parents, telling them he was with Megan. After the wreck, there was no way to avoid them finding out I was with Eli, and it didn’t take a genius for them to figure out why he had lied.

  My parents didn’t know at first. But then days after his funeral, I was still a fucking mess. And I guess that when my parents talked to Eli’s folks, they realized the truth. I would almost prefer the entire world knowing instead of my parents.

  And, yeah, a small part of me can’t help but wonder if my dad’s right. Am I lying to myself about my attraction to Alyssa because it’s…easier? If so, that’s not being fair to her.

  No, from the second I saw her I wanted her. It was an instant reaction with no conscious thought, just like with Eli. I didn’t know a thing about Alyssa. But for some reason, she flipped a switch, turning me on in a way that has been latent for so long I honestly wasn’t certain if I could be happy with anyone ever again. And now I can’t help but wonder if being with one woman for the rest of my life will fill all the emptiness Eli left behind or just a piece of it.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” my mom says, reaching across the table to cover my hand with hers. “He was trying to understand, but now he’s…confused.”

  “That makes two of us.” I scrub at the stubble on my jaw and bark out a laugh even though none of this is funny.

  “He doesn’t want to get his hopes up either. You’re just all we have…”

  “So he wishes you two would’ve had more kids to take the heat off of his one and only bisexual son.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, Nathan. You should be able to love whoever you want.”

  “As long as they’re female or no one finds out,” I add.

  “As long as you’re honest with yourself,” she counters. “Don’t date someone for us, for your teammates or for society…”

  “I’m not!” I assure her. “None of those thoughts even entered my mind the first time I saw Alyssa. She was just so gorgeous and feisty…”

  “Does she know?” my mom asks.

  “No,” I admit, blowing out a breath full of more guilt because I haven’t been honest with her about my sexual history. Not that there’s been a time for me to say, Oh, by the way, Alyssa, I used to get naked with another guy until the night we had a wreck, and he died. For some unknown reason, I not only lived through the accident, but was pretty much unscathed. “We’ve only had that one date,” I tell my mom, either trying to convince her or myself that I haven’t deceived the woman I want to keep going out with. “I’ll be honest with her before things get serious.”

  “Good. I’m sure that if you tell her the truth she’ll understand,” she replies with a supportive smile.

  “I don’t know. Hopefully she will, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see if she’ll even agree to go out with me again,” I reply.

  Chapter Nine

  Alyssa

  All day Wednesday and Thursday I was anxiously looking forward to Grayson’s class, and so was he. I’ve never seen him so excited, which makes me happy. The prospect of seeing Nathan only adds to that feeling, especially after not one but two knee-weakening kisses. I never anticipated that my physical response to having his lips on mine would be so explosive or addictive.

  While in some ways I’m thankful that the desk broke Sunday and ended our make out session, I’m also disappointed that the aching desire coiled so tightly between my legs was left completely unsatisfied. That probably explains why this week, after Grayson was asleep, I’ve stayed up writing over six thousand words in three different sex scenes in my novel. One of which explained in intimate detail what happened on the hero’s desk that did not collapse despite the amount of abuse it endured.

  Gathering my purse, I shut down my computer, ready to go get Grayson and make a quick dinner before his class.

  “I’m gonna head out,” I tell Candice when I stick my head in her office on my way out the door.

  “After checking out the Havoc website, I may tag along with you,” she says, bringing my departure up short. Stepping further into her office, I see various printed photos are strewn across her desk, ones of Nathan.

  “What are you doing with those?” I ask.

  “Oh, they’re for the article,” she says.
>
  “Article?” I screech. “I haven’t given you an article.”

  “But you are, right?” she asks. “I want to run it on the front page of Sunday’s paper.”

  “But I haven’t even told him we want an interview. There’s nothing we can print.”

  “There’s plenty here for me to print, without his permission,” she replies, shuffling through the papers. “See, here’s his bio, his wins and losses, national wrestling championships, classes he teaches and, last but not least, a photo of his handsome face.” She holds up an eight by eleven printout of a headshot of Nathan smiling at the camera in a black Havoc hoodie, his green eyes bright and warm.

  “Just hold off for now,” I beg her. “Let me try and get more info out of him.”

  “We’ve got his date of birth, so that’s all we need to verify accuracy.”

  “Right, but shouldn’t I warn him that we’re doing the story? I mean, he was obviously trying to lay low for some reason…”

  “I’m gonna print this story with the facts provided by his gym and the police report.”

  “Please, Candice. Grayson has another class tonight at Havoc. Give me just a few more days to try and get an actual interview.”

  “Fine, you’ve got until Friday,” she huffs with a roll of her eyes. “Now get going, or my nephew is gonna be late for his class.”

  Shit a brick.

  Maybe if I just ask Nathan about what happened and tell him I want to do an interview, he might agree to it. On the other hand, he may never talk to me again…

  While selfishly I don’t want to stop seeing him for personal reasons that have to do with fulfilling the scenes of my story, I also don’t want Nathan to get so upset that it causes tension between us and prevents Grayson from attending classes. Classes that have him acting his age for the first time I can remember…

  “Hi, Grayson. How’s it going, Alyssa?” Jude asks when we walk through the door at Havoc later that night. Hmm. I wonder if Jude knows his friend’s secret. Either way, he might be able to provide me with some insight.