The Cocky Cage Fighter Six Book Box Set

by Lane Hart

  “Okay, I’ll, um, go call to check on Claire,” Sadie says before disappearing.

  “So, I was just asking Jude if I should leave, you know, to keep Havoc out of the shitstorm from the article,” I tell Linc. The one Alyssa wrote without my permission. God that hurts more than a sucker punch.

  “Leave? Why would you leave?” Linc asks with a creased forehead.

  “Ah, because of homophobia. Look, I’m not gay, okay. If you need to know, technically I’m bisexual, but I was only ever with Eli, and then now there’s Alyssa, or there was Alyssa until I got in a knockdown, drag-out fight earlier.”

  “Wait, what? You got into a fight? Like a real deal one?” Linc asks. “What the fuck happened?”

  Shit. Jude may not have cared about the fight, but Linc is dead serious about the no fighting outside of the Havoc rule.

  "Well, um, at the time I had this really good macho reason, like I had to take the dude out to prove I'm worthy of Alyssa or some shit and that he's not." I blow out a breath. "Mostly, I wanted to kick his ass because he wants to fuck my woman, and that shit won't fly."

  Jude offers a fist bump of male comradery that I hit, before Linc raises his fist and offers the same.

  “Who did you fight? Did you kick his ass?” Linc asks.

  “Patrick Foxx. He was best friends with Alyssa’s husband who died overseas.”

  Linc examines my face, noticing the swollen parts. “He fight worth a shit?” he asks.

  “Fucker tried to kill me, like actually kill me,” I admit to them.

  “Big guy that was in class the other day? How much does he weigh?” Jude asks.

  “Um, well, I didn’t put him on the scales first or anything, but if I had to guess, probably around one-eighty.

  “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Linc asks Jude, who nods as the two continue having a silent conversation. So weird that they were fighting each other a year and a half ago, and now they’re best buds and business partners.

  “We’ll forgive and forget the fight if you recruit this guy and agree to fight in a team tournament,” Linc says.

  “You’re fucking with me, right?” I ask, looking back and forth between him and Jude who both shake their heads.

  “We’re tryin’ to build a roster for the IFC’s team tournament. Between the two Havocs, we think we can not only make a run at it this year but bring home first place.”

  “Seriously?” I ask.

  “Yeah. The first round starts the day after New Year’s in Daytona. Because of my fight with Jax less than six months ago, I’m not eligible until the fourth. And if we have to forfeit my weight class for three days, we’ll be fucked,” Jude explains.

  “I’m of course not eligible because of my upcomin’ Christmas Eve fight, and Senn’s out with Abby and the baby, even if he was six months out from a fight, which he’s not,” Linc tells me.

  “So, if neither of you can fight at middle or welter, and if Senn can’t fight light heavyweight, who the fuck is gonna fill all of those three spots?”

  The two have their silent conversation again before Jude finally responds. “Well, for two of those spots, we’ve got the Hometown Hero and the asshole who wants your woman.”

  “Ha-ha. You’re fucking funny,” I tell him. “But did you just forget the other part of the story? No one’s gonna want to fight the gay guy?”

  “Why not?” Linc asks.

  “You really gonna grapple with me now and not wonder if I’m trying to grab your dick?” I ask him.

  He slaps me across the back of my head with his open palm.

  “Don’t be a jackass. Did you forget that we’ve been friends for almost eight years? Maybe you thought you and Eli were discreet, but most of us knew.”

  “Bullshit,” I mutter. There’s no way the guys around here knew, or they would’ve raised hell.

  “We never had a discussion about it, but I bet Senn knew; Josh and Chris too. Luke just started comin’ in a year ago, so he probably didn’t know about you and his brother, did he?”

  “Not until the accident when his family realized Eli had lied to them and his girlfriend about who he was celebrating his birthday with.”

  “Look, man, we don’t give a shit, and anyone who does can go to another gym,” Jude tells me. “What we care about is the guys on our team, and, yeah, it would be nice to win that team tournament. Coach Briggs has filled the roster for flyweight and bantamweight since his team is younger, smaller guys. We’re probably gonna bag strawweight and take the forfeit, which means we’ve gotta come up with feather, light, welter, middle, light heavy, and heavy. You can take your pick, but if you could go welter, Luke can take lightweight, Mace can take light heavyweight, and maybe this Trick guy can fill the middleweight spot. That only leaves two spots, feather and heavy for us to fill.”

  “We can do a call for tryouts, see if we can find any walk-ons to take on our current guys who want to give it a shot. The last man standin’ wins the spot and a year of free membership,” Linc suggests to Jude.

  “Fuck, yeah,” Jude agrees, fist bumping Linc.

  “Whoa. You guys are acting like that asshole and I have agreed. I haven’t agreed to shit. It’s one thing to take a single cage fight on this short notice, but you’re talking about a tournament. How many days of fights are there?” I ask.

  “Five,” they say simultaneously.

  “Five fucking days of getting my ass kicked? Are you nuts? There’s no time to train even if I was suicidal, which I’m not.”

  “Come on, Nate Dog. You’ve been training for years. We’ll start intense conditioning for you and the rest of our roster ASAP and whip you into shape,” Jude says.

  “I just don’t think I can do this,” I tell them.

  “Sure you can,” Linc says.

  “No, you don’t get it. The blood in the cage, I can’t handle it. It reminds me of the night of the accident. I have panic attacks and get sick to my stomach.”

  “Was there any blood in that fight earlier today?” Jude asks.

  “A little.”

  “And you were okay through it, right?”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t like I could ask him to stop trying to kill me so I could throw up.”

  “We can work on your grapplin’ so you can go for submissions instead of strikes,” Linc suggests.

  “Great idea,” Jude says. “In the tournament, we’ll get fifteen points for a knockout or submission, and ten for a decision. We’ll need submissions and knockouts to win. Luke’s barely past his rookie year, but he’s got a decent ground game. I’m thinking we can train Trick to be a knockout winner.”

  “Trick,” I mutter the nickname. “You guys act like he’s already your teammate or some shit and you’ve never met him.”

  “We will soon if you wanna come back,” Linc says with a wink. “Until then, get your ass out of here, fucker.”

  Done. Today has been such a shitty day. I still don’t know what the fuck to think about Alyssa outing me or dating me. It sure as fuck felt real when we were together last night and this morning, though. By now she has to know I omitted part of my past to her.

  Seems like the odds are stacked against us, and maybe I always knew it was a lost cause, which is why I kept my mouth shut instead of telling her the truth.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alyssa

  Somehow I made my way through work Monday. And instead of going home and crawling underneath the covers of my empty bed, I’m waiting in the parent monitoring room at Grayson's child psychiatrist’s office instead. I wouldn't be surprised if my too-smart-for-his-own-good son was aware that his session is being live streamed.

  "Hi Grayson, how are you?" Dr. Kelly asks when she walks into the room where Grayson is sitting like a statue on the sofa.

  "Okay."

  "Glad to hear it. Did you do anything fun at school today?"

  He looks down at his lap and shakes his head.

  "Okay, what about this weekend. What did you do?"

  "I
stayed with Aunt Candice. We played Monopoly and chess. It was somewhat fun."

  "Good. So anything new? Anything bothering you lately?"

  "My mother let me enroll in a mixed martial arts gym last week."

  "Really? And how was that?"

  "It was great. Coach Jude and Nate are awesome!"

  The mention of Nate makes my eyes water, even more so since Grayson is more expressive talking about their stupid sport than I've ever seen him with anything else.

  "These guys fight? Like with their fists?" the doctor asks, sounding appalled. Thank you! At least I'm not the only one.

  "Yes, but there are also these leg kicks, and then the grappling, like wrestling. Those guys can do everything."

  "Wow. That sounds...dangerous. Do you think it's appropriate for two people to hit each other for fun?"

  "It's not for fun. It's a sport that teaches you how to be tough and protect yourself and others. You have to work really hard to get in shape and practice all those moves. Then the older guys get to try them out on another fighter to see if they remember them."

  The way Grayson talks about fighting sounds innocent, and I'm not sure how that's possible.

  "Aren't you afraid you'll get hurt?"

  "No. If I get hurt, then I need to train more and get better."

  …

  I'm still mulling over Grayson's words from therapy and trying to figure out what to do about whether or not I should let him go back to Havoc on the way home. I know he loves it, but I’m just not sure it’s a healthy environment for the long run. He’s so young and impressionable; and, of course, I want to protect him from the world.

  “Grayson, about Havoc,” I start, sneaking a glance at him in the backseat. “I’ve been thinking, and I don’t want you to go back.”

  “What!” he exclaims. “Why not?”

  Jeez. I can’t tell him about Nate, one of the nice, quiet men he looks up to, turning into a brutal bloodthirsty fighter yesterday morning. Or that he also managed to rip my heart out.

  “I just don’t want you to change who you are, and you are a smart, sweet boy –”

  “I hate you!” he yells, making me cringe. He’s never said something so hurtful, and the words may as well have been served up on the tip of a knife to my heart.

  “I’m sorry, and one day when you’re older, I hope you’ll understand,” I tell him, the blade digging in deeper when I glance into the rearview and see the tears welling up in his eyes.

  God, I’m a horrible mother. This is all Nate’s fault! If he hadn’t been at the Y teaching classes and then requiring that I let Grayson come to Havoc, I wouldn’t be the worst mother in the world in the eyes of my son.

  When we pull up in the driveway, I nearly curse aloud seeing Patrick’s black Jeep.

  Shit.

  I survived an entire day at work, made my son hate me, so is it too much to ask that I be left alone for a quiet dinner?

  Our car barely rolls to a stop before Grayson jumps out with his backpack and runs inside. By the time I follow through the open front door, it’s just in time to hear the door to his room slam shut.

  Awesome.

  “Bad day?” Patrick asks from the kitchen table, sitting in front of my open laptop.

  My open laptop.

  Oh hell no!

  Tossing my purse down in the entry way, I storm over and slam the laptop shut in his face.

  “What are you doing here, and why are you looking at my computer?” I snap with my hands on my hips.

  “Well, I came over to apologize, and you weren’t home, obviously,” Patrick answers, getting to his feet so that we’re standing only inches away from each other. I want to take a step back to increase my personal space, but I’m trying to make a point and don’t want to lose any ground. “I came into the kitchen to get a drink and saw the computer up, so I thought I would check my email.”

  “Email?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes, email. I don’t have any Internet at my apartment.”

  “Why don’t you have Internet? Never mind, that’s not the point. The point is my laptop is personal!”

  Despite my yelling at him, a smile stretches across his normally solemn face, and that’s when I know….

  “You read my story, didn’t you?” I ask, covering my face with both palms as if doing so will suppress the red heat from warming my cheeks and nose. Too late.

  “Uh-huh. And it’s crazy hot. There’s only one problem,” he replies gruffly while I continue to hide my face. “I think you should make the aggressive, demanding hero tall, dark and handsome instead of a gay ginger.”

  Seething with anger at his words and his nosiness, my jaw drops, and my hands fall from my face right before I haul one back and slap the shit out of Patrick’s face. My hand stings, but he barely flinches.

  “That was not only for the insult to Nathan but for walking in on us yesterday morning. I want my key back,” I tell him through clenched teeth, holding my palm out for the house key. When he doesn’t make any motions to get his keychain out of his pocket, I glance back up at his face to glare at him. The determination set on his face registers only a second before he suddenly lurches forward, cupping my jaw tightly and holding me in place to kiss me. My lips part on a gasp of surprise, which Patrick uses to jam his tongue into my mouth. Infuriated, I refuse to kiss him back and instead push against his chest trying to get him to stop. Finally, he releases his hold on me and turns away with a curse, his back muscles clenched tightly underneath his black t-shirt.

  And I have to admit that he’s right. With his massive build and dark hair and eyes, he’s the definition of classically handsome. Most women could easily see him as the star of their fantasies and main lead in romance novels. But when I look at him, all I see is my husband’s best friend, my friend for the past few months, if he could learn to keep his tongue in his own mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” Patrick says still facing away with his back to me. “I just…I feel so fucking guilty that it was Austin and not me. I don’t have a wife or a son. No one would have given a shit if I hadn’t come home…”

  “Patrick, that’s not true,” I tell him, placing my palm on the center of his spine to comfort him. My heart breaks after hearing the raw guilt in his voice, and the fact that he doesn’t think anyone cares for him. I don’t know much about Patrick’s family, but I remember Austin telling me his parents divorced when he was young, and both went on to remarry and have new families, ones that he apparently doesn’t think he’s a part of. Which is probably why Austin tried to make him feel welcomed into our family.

  “You deserve better than me and that asshole from yesterday,” he grumbles before I can find any more words to try and sooth the pain.

  My hand falls away from him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we broke up,” I tell him before going over and falling onto the sofa. I’ve reached my limit of bullshit in heels for the day. Kicking the shoes off, I curl my feet underneath my dress pants.

  “Good. It’s not like you could have a future with him,” Patrick remarks as he follows me to the living room and continues to tower over me.

  “What does that mean?” I ask him. “You don’t know anything about our relationship.”

  “Seriously, Alyssa?” he asks. “The guy is gay and was using you…”

  “No, he wasn’t. Maybe…maybe he likes men too, but what happened between us was real. Yes, I hate that he lied to me about his sexual history, but the reason I ended things was because he got into a fist fight with you,” I explain. “And what a hypocrite that makes me blaming that all on Nate when you were just as responsible, and yet I didn’t kick you out of our lives…”

  “Do you give a shit about me?” Patrick asks suddenly, catching me off guard.

  “Of course, I care about you, and so does Grayson…”

  “No, that’s not what I mean,” he says with a shake of his head. “Have you ever thought about you and me together?”

  Oh.

&
nbsp; “No,” I tell him honestly. “You’re a good friend, Patrick, well, when you’re not getting into fights with my dates and calling them names. But friendship is all I can ever offer you.”

  His handsome, unshaven jaw ticks, and I know that I’ve bruised his ego, but he needs to know the truth so that he can let go of whatever feelings he thinks he has for me out of guilt or remorse for Austin.

  “Thank you for being here for me and Grayson after Austin’s death,” I tell him. “It really has meant a lot to me, knowing you’re there if I need anything, and I’m sorry I don’t feel differently…”

  “You’ve made your point,” he says before he strides to the front door and slams it shut behind him.

  Oh my God. Could I find one person in the world who doesn’t hate me today?

  My thoughts instantly go to Nate and how amazing our weekend was together. I have never felt so close and connected to someone, not even Austin, who I shared a child with. But by now, I’m certain that Nate knows about the article and probably blames me for it, even though Candice is the one who printed it with my name on it. She thought she was helping me out, giving me credit for the scoop so that she would have a reason to give me the raise I needed. She had no idea that what she did ensured that Nate would hate me too. He’ll have to get in line.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nate

  My fist knocks on the door of the apartment, the address of which I found online when I looked up his name. And then I step back and wait, trying to look inoffensive with my hands shoved in my front jean pockets. I can’t help but wonder if my sore, partially swollen face is about to get punched again. Hell, maybe this isn’t even the right address…

  The door opens, and I swear I can hear the grinding sound of teeth on teeth. Yep, it’s definitely the right apartment.

  “What the fuck do you want? Another ass kicking?” Patrick asks, crossing his thick arms over his chest, looking like he’s about to bust out of the black cotton t-shirt.

  “Sort of,” I answer, since I know that will throw him off guard. And it does; I can tell by the way the tension in his shoulders relaxes just a hair. “I’ve got an offer for you. A chance for you to kick ass and make money doing it.”