Love On The Ropes (Ringside Romance)

by White, Pat

Yet, she’d called him J—the nickname only a handful of people knew about.

  “I don’t think he’ll need stitches,” she said. “Take a look, Johnny.”

  “It’s not bad. Put a butterfly on it and get some ice.”

  He couldn’t believe he’d surrendered, laid still and listened to their conversation like a fly on the wall.

  Exhaustion knocked him flat, exhaustion from training to be a pro wrestler for the past six weeks, then being thrown into this insane world of testosterone-charged gorillas. Today was his first practice with the guys and he’d lost it, getting into a territorial fight with Floyd.

  J hated the fakeness of pro wrestling and the bravado of the guys. Hell, he hated everything about this assignment. Pro wrestlers were nothing more than grown-up kids play fighting. Or, in his case, stripping.

  Stripping, the part of this job he hadn’t mastered, the part he despised. But stripping provided him with access, and the sooner he uncovered the source of the steroid distribution the sooner he’d be out of here and on to something big.

  He needed help. He needed to earn someone’s trust within the organization. He opened his eyes, blinking against the fluorescent light. Damn, his head hurt.

  “How about something for the pain?” the woman said, as if she’d read his mind. She stood over him with a cup of water in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other.

  “No, thanks.”

  “It’s just aspirin.”

  Again, he freaked that she’d been able to read his mind so easily. He refused to take anything stronger than aspirin, and only took it when he suffered from severe migraines. He didn’t mind pain. It kept him sharp.

  “You don’t have to be macho. That doesn’t impress me.” She raised her eyebrow as if she were growing impatient.

  “Not much impresses you, does it?” he guessed. He wanted to know more about this woman but knew she’d never willingly give up information.

  “Well,” she said, “I’m impressed by a truly amazing sunrise over the Grand Canyon, and the sight of Mount Rainier on a clear day.” The corner of her mouth curved up. Was she smiling at him?

  He sat up and rubbed his knee, realizing he’d banged it up but good.

  “You messed up the knee, too?” she asked.

  Damn, she read him like the Sunday comics, quickly and with little effort. How could that be? His best friends, Chauncy and Beef, always accused him of playing his cards so close that even they couldn’t begin to guess what was going on in his head.

  Right now the only thing registering in his head was the pain from his bloody head wound and bruised knee.

  “Change your mind?” she asked, rattling the bottle of pills.

  He’d have to watch himself around this female.

  “I could use one, I guess,” he said.

  “Just one?”

  “Please.”

  She tapped a pill into his palm. He noticed she was careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact. Strange. Her hand was all over his chest a minute ago yet now she couldn’t stand to touch him?

  He swallowed the aspirin and she offered him the cup of water. This time his fingers grazed hers. She froze for a second before stepping back.

  “X-rays wouldn’t be bad idea,” she offered, stuffing something into her backpack and avoiding eye contact.

  “No thanks, doc.”

  “You’re a smart-ass, you know that?”

  “What am I supposed to call you? I don’t know your name.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “Sandy.”

  “Thanks, Sandy.” He extended his hand, waiting to see what she’d do.

  To his surprise, she stuck out her petite fingers and shook his hand. “Hopefully, I’ll never see you again,” she said.

  He wasn’t expecting that response. “Excuse me?”

  “If you use half the brains God has given you, you’ll make nice with the boys, stay out of trouble and take care of yourself.”

  She was insulting him again, wasn’t she? And here he thought she was starting to like him, that maybe she could be his insider for this assignment.

  “I’ve got more brains than you think,” he said, taking another swig of water. Suddenly he felt dehydrated.

  “If that’s true, you’ll apologize to Floyd.”

  “Apologize?” he snapped, then grabbed his head to ease the pain.

  She placed an ice pack on his knee. His head, his knee, this woman, this stupid assignment. He was going to lose it. No, she’d avoid him for sure if she thought he was hot tempered and dangerous. Yet she’d gotten in his face before. Nothing seemed to intimidate her.

  “I have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “Floyd started it.” And Jason sounded like an eight-year-old.

  “Swallow your pride and smooth things over. You don’t want enemies before you step into the ring.”

  She made a good point. He’d learned that wrestling was a team effort, that if everyone executed the moves the way they were supposed to, no one got hurt. Not severely, anyway.

  But that son of a bitch Floyd crossed the line.

  “What did he say to you?” she asked.

  There she was with the mindreading again. He’d have to watch her. Yeah, watch her crawl right under his skin.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, a beautiful round chest stretching the fabric of her army fatigue T-shirt. Camo? He’d have to ask her about that fashion statement when he got to know her better.

  “We had words,” he said.

  “What kind of words?”

  “We were trying out some moves and called me a baby face.”

  “And you attacked him for that?”

  “He started dissing my mother.”

  She burst into laughter, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. It was then that he noticed the slight freckles dotting her nose. She looked sweet, like the proverbial girl next door. And she was laughing at him.

  He hopped off the table.

  “Wait, I’m not done with your knee.” She grabbed his bare arm. He glared at her hand, but she didn’t pull away. “Come on, get back up there and let me finish.”

  “Why should I?” Now he sounded like a three-year-old. Hell, he wanted out of this room.

  Her expression turned soft and understanding. “I’m sorry.”

  Hell, she was still reading him like a comic strip, only worse. She was reading his emotions and thoughts. This woman could destroy him and all he hoped to accomplish here.

  “Get on the table and I’ll explain a few things to you,” she said.

  Like how she was able to read his mind? He wanted to know that. He shifted back onto the table.

  “Where are you from?” she asked, icing his knee.

  She really didn’t want to know. He really didn’t want to tell her.

  “Chicago,” he said.

  “No, I mean, where did Cosmo find you? In a gym? Strong-man contest, what?”

  “In a strip club,” he blurted out, trying to keep a straight face. His background was designed by Meek the Dickless Wonder. J was a former stripper turned pro wrestler. From one brainless career to another, and both as a sex object for women.

  “You knew nothing about wrestling before you joined BAM?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Okay, here’s what I’m guessing happened: you’re a heel and Floyd is also a baby face. When you were practicing the moves he probably had one of his brain farts and blurted out what came into his mind. You have an angular face but there’s something in your eyes that’s very sweet and innocent. That’s the look of a baby face—a good guy. He recognized it and made a comment. It wasn’t an insult or anything, just Floyd being Floyd.”

  Sweet and innocent? Never in his life had anyone referred to Jason as sweet and innocent.

  “And the comments about your mother...” She smiled.

  He shoved her hand away from the ice pack and held it himself.

  “Don’t get all wiggy on me,” she scolded, placing her hand on the cool pack. “Th
is is the entertainment business. Your job is to create conflict. The boys are always insulting each other, talking about their mamas or sisters or whatever they think will get the audience worked up. That’s what we do here. We entertain people.”

  “So ... he was pretending?”

  “Yep.” She removed the ice pack and straightened his leg. “How bad is the pain, on a scale from one to ten?”

  “Two.”

  She cocked her chin and shot him a half smile. “You stick to that story, bub. But remember, I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped.”

  Why did she have this way of saying things that completely shut him down? He was pretty good at female relations, but this girl confused him. He didn’t like confusion. He liked order and control. He’d try a different tack.

  “Who says I don’t want help?” he said. “Especially from a babe like you.”

  “Babe?” She stepped back and glared. “Did you really just call me a babe? Get the hell off my table.”

  Yeah, that worked.

  The door burst open and Cosmo Perini charged into the room. “Well, that’s it. You’ve really screwed things up.” He glared at J.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, son, but I can’t have my boys at odds with each other. It’s bad karma.”

  Sandy muttered something.

  “You’ve given me no choice, Stripper. You’re fired.”

  Chapter Three

  Panic shot through Jason’s body. He hated to think where Meek would send him next if he blew this ridiculous assignment.

  “You can’t fire me.”

  “You’ve given me no choice, Jason,” Cosmo replied. “Floyd won’t wrestle if you’re part of the organization. He’s got a lot more pull than you.”

  “We had a deal.”

  “The deal’s off. You blew it. Not my responsibility.”

  “I can’t lose this job.” J stood and wobbled on his knee.

  “Why is it so important to you?”

  It was Sandy’s voice—that sweet and soothing tone that made him want to bolt out of the room. She could talk him out of his dog tags by reading the classified ads out loud.

  “It’s personal,” J said.

  “Okay.” She put up her hands. “I was only trying to help.”

  Help? Yeah, he could use some of that, otherwise he’d failed the most miserable assignment of his career. He could kiss his promotion good-bye, his career good-bye.

  She turned to leave and he touched her arm. “Wait.”

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  Okay, McBain, come up with something good.

  “I really need this job,” he said.

  She waited. Damn, now what? How far could he go without it seeming like an act?

  “I’m broke, got laid off and can’t find another assignment.”

  “Assignment?” she said.

  “Contract,” he hedged. “My day job is construction. I dig tunnels for cities. Been out of work for six months, and I’m late on the rent.”

  “Surely you’ve got friends you can stay with?” She eyed him and wrinkled her nose. “Or maybe not. What about family?”

  He clenched his teeth, willing himself not to say what he was about to say. “They’re gone. Dad died twenty years ago and Mom…” He hesitated. “She passed on last year.”

  Well, it was partly true. In J’s mind his father died the day he’d walked out on the family, and Mom passed on J’s advice to stay away from numb nuts Malloy, a divorcee she’d met at bingo. Malloy was a loser. J could feel it in his bones.

  “You have no other family?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  He thought about his little sister and brother, Janette and Jordon. Well, not little anymore, but all grown up and wanting Jason to mind his own business and stay out of their lives. He’d willingly taken on the role of father when they were kids and was paying for it now.

  Then again, maybe they resented him for abandoning the family when he’d joined the military. It was the best thing for everyone. He couldn’t stand his mom’s boyfriend playing father, pushing Jason out of the lead male role. Unable to voice his frustration, he’d gotten into trouble with the cops. He’d never forget the look on Mom’s face when Officer Rogers brought him home in his cruiser. From that point on he’d decided to make her proud.

  Yet, by joining the army he’d lost regular contact with Mom, Janette and Jordon. Whenever he’d call to touch base, his brother and sister acted like he was checking up on them. Hell, what did he care if Jordon was in his fifth year of college, or if Janette skipped college altogether to open a beauty salon for rich clients on the North Shore? Deep down he suspected they didn’t want him in their lives because he reminded them that they, too, were unlovable in some way that caused Raymond McBain to go out for doughnuts and never come home.

  “It’s a woman, isn’t it?”

  He snapped his attention to Sandy. “What?”

  “There’s a woman out there you can stay with. I feel it.”

  Maybe she wasn’t so good at reading him. No woman would keep J around for more than one night. Sure he was good, maybe even exceptional at making love for one long, hot night... and the next morning. But J wasn’t the reliable type when it came to a long-term romance. It ran in the McBain genes.

  “No woman,” he said. “I was counting on this job.” He glared at Cosmo, hoping he’d catch J’s meaning. If Cosmo was ready to fire an undercover DEA agent for such a small transgression, he must have something to hide.

  “There’s got to be another kind of job you can get.” The bossy, adorable Sandy wouldn’t let up. Why did she care?

  “Nope. All I got is muscle and attitude. I could care less about sleeping on Lower Wacker Drive, but my sister...” He hesitated. How far should he go? Lay it on thick and make her feel sorry for you.

  “My baby sister’s been bunking with me. She’s got some ... emotional issues.”

  What a pile of horseshit. But did she believe it? Keep your face still, every friggin’ muscle frozen like ice.

  He’d mastered the gift of lying with his eyes. I’m happy you got back with Mr. Malloy, Ma. Sure, I’ll come home for Easter. Like hell he’d come home and watch that pervert touch his mother’s behind, listen to his little brother argue politics, and suffer through small talk with his sister’s latest boyfriend.

  “I’m afraid you’ve done this to yourself, son,” Cosmo said.

  “Son?” The jerk had no right to call him that. No one did. Whoa, chill out.

  “Cosmo, it was an accident,” Sandy said.

  She was defending him?

  “You mean The Stripper accidentally tackled Floyd and nearly killed him with a pink shoe?” Cosmo said.

  “The Stripper didn’t understand,” she replied.

  “Stop calling me that,” J spoke up.

  “The wrestling subculture is new to him,” Sandy went on. “He thought Floyd was really insulting him when he made that comment about his mother.”

  Cosmo burst into laughter, slapping his hand on his thigh. “Where have you been, boy?”

  In a hellish urban jungle fighting drug lords.

  “That kind of ribbing goes on all the time around here,” Cosmo said. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I get that now.”

  Cosmo’s smile faded. “Still, if we can’t mend things between you and Floyd, you’re out.”

  “Let me help,” Sandy said.

  Why was she doing this? J hated when someone offered to help because their generosity was usually followed by shame or pain, or both.

  “Is Floyd still here?” she asked.

  “Yep, packing to go home.”

  “We’ll give it a shot.”

  “We? Meaning what?” J didn’t like the sound of this.

  “Meaning I’ll help you apologize.”

  “I’d rather quit.”

  “Here.” She shoved at his shoulder. “Just got rid of that chip for you. Must have been a
heavy sucker.” She shot him a full-cheeked smile and he forgot to breathe. How did she do that?

  “Follow me.” She started for the door.

  He stared at her, this tiny female dressed in jeans, a fatigue T-shirt and tennis shoes. She was leading him around by the nose.

  Turning, she waited by the door. “Well?”

  Her tone set his teeth on edge. “Listen, lady—”

  “Dude, you need to grow up, swallow your pride and keep your job.” She marched out the door.

  He stared after her, dumbfounded. He’d been insulted by this woman at least a dozen times in the past twenty minutes.

  “I’d go with her if I were you, son,” Cosmo said.

  J marched past the promoter. “I’m not your son.”

  He spotted Sandy down the hall. “Stop!” He started after her, bad knee and all. “Don’t you hear me, woman?” He jog-hopped and caught up to her as she reached the locker room. “You know I’m hurt and you’re making me chase after you?”

  “Don’t pull that guilt thing on me, chief. You dug this hole all by yourself. You ready to climb out?”

  “Yes—no.”

  “Which is it?”

  “Yes, I guess.”

  “Great. I know how to push Floyd’s buttons. Walk in and humble yourself. You know, be submissive and don’t make eye contact.”

  He ground his teeth. Be submissive?

  “Then say, ‘Floyd, I’m sorry. I didn’t understand how things worked around here. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ ”

  “But I did mean to hurt him.”

  “Lie. I know you can do it.” She smiled.

  Okay, which non-truth had she figured out?

  “I don’t want to do this,” he said, eyeing the door.

  “Then you’re a selfish pig.”

  “Excuse me?” He stared her down.

  “You’re only thinking of yourself, not your sister. Where will she live? In a cardboard box?” She shuddered.

  Apparently she’d bought the lie about his homeless sister.

  “Okay, fine.”

  “You know what to say?”

  “More or less.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “You’re coming with me?” Hell, if he lost his temper he didn’t want it to be in front of his one ally in this place.

  “You’ll need backup.” She swung open the door and a dozen men froze.