Fighting Dirty (Ultimate #4)

by Lori Foster

  Havoc looked at him, then toward Rissy and back again. “Should I ask?”

  “No.”

  Frowning in confusion, he slid into the booth seat. “Isn’t that—”

  “Thought you weren’t going to ask.” Armie stared at him, hard.

  Jude and Simon both looked quizzical.

  With a slow grin, Havoc shrugged. “Long as it doesn’t interfere with your debut—”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Ah,” Simon said, nodding his shaved head with sage wisdom. “A woman.”

  “That’s usually the only interference mentioned,” Jude agreed.

  They both started to scan the room, presumably to find the woman in question, but with perfect timing, Rowdy returned with their drinks. “On the house,” he said as he served them. “It’s the least I can do, so feel free to order whatever you want.”

  “Burger and fries?” Simon asked.

  “I’ve had the cheeseburger,” Havoc said. “Really good.”

  “My cook, who’s also a fight fan, will own eternal bragging rights,” Rowdy told them. “How about I bring a platter and some plates?”

  The offer was met with enthusiastic agreement.

  So they planned to do dinner? Shit. Armie stewed over that, wishing he could be elsewhere.

  Like with a certain tall, adorable lady, who also happened to be scalding hot—

  Just then, Cherry and Merissa took a table across the room from them. It was distracting enough thinking about her, but now he could see her, too—her every smile, how she gestured while speaking enthusiastically with Cherry, the way the ladies laughed together.

  Watching Cherry go wide-eyed, a hand over her mouth, Armie wondered if they were gossiping about sex.

  When Cherry fanned her face, he knew they were.

  Merissa nodded, then crossed her heart, and Armie outright laughed, making the other men wonder.

  “Sorry.” Clearing his throat, he folded his arms on the booth top and asked, “So, what do you need me to do?” Maybe once he gave agreement and assurances, he could get on his way.

  Not so.

  For the next hour they talked promo and appearances. No problem. He never minded talking with spectators.

  “Usually,” Havoc said, “we ask the guys to dress it up a bit.”

  “Suit and tie,” Simon said. “Take it serious. Be sincere.”

  “I can do that,” Armie told them, but he already dreaded it. He was much better at just winging it, at listening to the fans and laughing with them, mugging for photos and all in all, having a good time. But he had given his word that he’d dive in, so—

  Jude shook his head. “We discussed it before coming here, and part of your appeal—”

  Lip curled, Armie asked, “My appeal?”

  “—is you.”

  They all waited, putting him on edge. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Deliberately provoking, Simon said in an aside to Havoc, “Touchy.” Then he grinned at Armie and overly articulated, “Your fans like you ‘as-is.’ They don’t want you prettied up.”

  Prettied up? Armie scratched his chin. “So no suit?”

  “You might have to tone down the suggestive tees,” Havoc explained, “but otherwise, just be yourself.”

  “You’ve already built this enormous fan base,” Jude said. “And they don’t want you to change.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “They like your rebel attitude.”

  Armie snorted. “I’m not a rebel.” That sounded insecure and annoying.

  “Nonconformist then.” Jude disregarded the wording as if it didn’t matter. “The fact you’ve avoided the SBC, that you fight without the fame—”

  “Or the bumped-up paycheck,” Havoc added.

  “—has impressed a hell of a lot of people.”

  Armie frowned. “It’s not about impressing anyone. I just like to compete.”

  “And win?” Havoc asked.

  He shrugged. “Prefer it to losing, sure.”

  The three men grinned as if he’d just given the right answer.

  “Without near the exposure most fighters in the SBC get, you’ve made a name for yourself.”

  “Wasn’t trying to.”

  Simon nudged Havoc. “He wasn’t even trying.”

  “It’s like this organic movement, growing bigger every day.” Jude pushed aside his empty plate and leaned forward. “Talk to just about anyone competing in the sport and they’ve heard of you. Spectators who follow the sport know your name.”

  “No shit?” Well hell. His intent had always been a low profile.

  “They whisper about you,” Havoc said, “like you’re an urban legend.”

  “Or,” Simon added, “the average man’s hero. You’re more like them, but doing what they can’t do.”

  Jude gestured. “It’s as if you represent all of them.”

  Frustrated, Armie rubbed both hands over his face. “Look, you want me to fight, so I’ll fight. And I’ll do my damnedest to win. But I’m not trying to represent anyone.”

  “Tough,” Simon told him. “That’s how it is with hometown heroes. People admire you.”

  “Now wait a damn minute.” Intent on correcting them, Armie straightened in his seat. “Cannon’s the hometown hero, not me.”

  “That’s not how Cannon tells it.” Havoc indicated the crowd at the bar, including many of his friends. “Or any of the other fighters in your camp.”

  Armie thought about pounding all of them. Well, except maybe Cannon. He was long used to Cannon’s never-ending backup. “Why the hell would anyone tell you that bullshit?” It was irritating and ridiculous and he was not a fucking hero.

  Misunderstanding, Jude said, “You’re humble. That’s good.”

  It felt like his temples tried to compress his brain. “No,” Armie growled out, “I’m not.” He was the outrageous one. The one who bragged. He had no modesty, and he sure as hell wasn’t humble.

  “Just take a breath,” Simon encouraged. “It’s all good.”

  Sure, if by “all good” he meant seriously fucked. “This is why I avoided the SBC. It’s not me. It’s not—”

  “Anonymous enough?” Jude shook his head. “Forget it, Armie. Anonymity is over. We already covered that and I got your word that you were all in.”

  “All in on the fighting, not this other nutty psychobabble stuff.”

  Havoc ordered him another unsweetened tea. “You’ll be good for the sport, Armie. And believe it or not, the sport will be good for you.”

  He didn’t need—what? Anything good? His gaze automatically sought out Rissy. She was as good as it got. A good girl. A good sister, good employee and a good cook. Really good in bed…

  Brand and Miles had joined the ladies, so at least Armie knew other men wouldn’t be hitting on her. Calmed by the sight of her and her nearness, he gave his attention back to Jude, Simon and Havoc.

  A trio of true badasses. Three of the most elite fighters in the sport. Men who had retired as champions. They had their shit together, and he saw respect in their eyes.

  Respect for him.

  They wanted him to join in. It wasn’t just Cannon anymore. It wasn’t just his friends at the rec center.

  He didn’t know what the fuck to do, so he said, “Fine.” Ignoring all the hero BS, Armie agreed. “I’ll dial down the raunchiness on my tees. Anything else?”

  As if they knew they’d won, they each loosened their posture, got comfortable, smiled.

  Jude said, “You need a manager—”

  “No thanks. I can manage myself. Is that it, then?”

  Havoc shook his head. “Cannon will be in your corner?”

  “Probably, unless something comes up.”

  “So if not him, then who?” Simon asked.

  “One of the other guys. Does it matter?”

  Jude rubbed his face. “This is the SBC, Armie. As professional as it gets. You need a manager, and you need a dedicated coach, so quit argui
ng every point, will you?”

  Before he could dispute that, Simon said, “You probably know I was Havoc’s manager. Now I’d like to be yours.”

  Other fighters would wet themselves for that honor, so how the hell could he refuse it?

  “And I’d like to coach you,” Havoc told him.

  Armie’s head spun. They were investing more than money in him, and really piling on the trust—because they assumed he’d be worth it. “You know,” he told them softly, “some guys might be intimidated by all these expectations.”

  “But not you.” Havoc held his gaze. “I’ll consistently be in your corner, Armie, but I don’t mind if Cannon joins us when he can.”

  From one earnest face to the next, Armie sent a forced smile. “Great, thanks. Problem solved.”

  Droll, Simon asked, “Why do I get the feeling he’s still not taking this seriously?”

  Seeing them exasperated made Armie feel better, so he didn’t mind annoying them a little more with a reminder. “You just told me you like my methods.”

  “No,” Jude said. “Spectators like it.”

  “I’m thinking about coming out of retirement,” Simon said with menace.

  Armie laughed. “Anxious to kick my ass, huh?”

  Cocking a brow, Simon asked, “Could I?”

  Armie shrugged and said, “No one is invincible.” He’d let Simon wonder if he meant him, or himself.

  Simon laughed. “Tell you what. Come to my camp for your last two weeks of prep. We’ll have you sparring more, doing drills, and we can work on cage strategy. I have some guys who’ve already fought Carter. They can give you some pointers.”

  “I’ve seen him fight.” Carter “Chaos” Fletcher liked to constantly switch gears, going from boxing to kicking to takedowns and submission attempts. Armie knew how Carter worked, had seen his strengths and his weaknesses. Carter was good at a lot of things, but not great at any of them. He was fast, but not precise. Armie had seen plenty of holes in his game, so he wasn’t worried.

  Besides, the possibility of picking up and relocating didn’t thrill him, and he knew why. It was beyond idiotic, but he dreaded leaving Merissa for two weeks. Not only would he worry about her because of what she’d gone through at the bank, but their relationship was very new, and he had no idea how long it’d last.

  What was he? A snotty-nosed mama’s boy?

  Proving himself to be astute, Havoc eyed him, then suggested, “Or maybe since Cannon swears you’re his right hand, Simon and I could bring a few guys here to work with you.”

  “Yeah.” Armie jumped on it. “If it’s not too much trouble, let’s do that.”

  Simon laughed. “Know who he reminds me of?”

  “Handleman?” Havoc guessed.

  “Yeah. Same chip on his shoulder, same dislike of promo.”

  Fuck, Armie hated comparisons. “Harley retired as a champ.” As had each of the men at the table with him.

  “That he did.” Jude lifted his drink in a toast. “To talented assholes who give new meaning to stubbornness.”

  Havoc and Simon said, “Hear, hear.”

  Armie couldn’t help it. A genuine smile cracked, and once it did, they all laughed. He’d gotten through his first round of SBC planning, and although he’d lost a few, he’d also won a few.

  Best of all, he’d be sticking close to Merissa, so he could chalk up the rest as no big deal.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “THE BAR SURE is crowded tonight,” Cherry complained when two women rushed by and one bumped her elbow, almost spilling her drink.

  Brand smiled at them both, his sinfully dark eyes teasing. “You ladies haven’t noticed that we have celebrities among us?”

  “Who?” Merissa looked around but couldn’t see past the crowd.

  “Armie’s with them. Opposite side of the room.”

  “Armie is here?” Just knowing he was near made her heart race. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. He came in with Jude Jamison, Simon and Dean.”

  “Why?”

  Brand rolled one bulky shoulder. As a heavyweight, he was a big guy with plenty of thick muscle. “Everyone is really pumped about him signing on with the SBC.”

  Miles leaned in. “Word is, they’re courting him.”

  Understanding some parts of mixed martial arts competition, but not all of it, Merissa tipped her head. “They’ll expect him to switch camps?”

  “It’s possible. But Cannon’s got the rec center so fine-tuned, most other camps are trying to get their guys here to train.”

  Brand chimed in, saying, “You look at the fact Cannon is a champ, and Denver is kicking ass left and right¸ and now Armie is stepping up. They see a lot of talent coming from here.”

  “Speaking of talent,” Miles murmured, smiling at a small crowd of women dressed as if they were in a nightclub instead of Rowdy’s local bar. “Excuse me.”

  Cherry laughed. “And he’s off.”

  “Can’t say as I blame him.” Brand pushed back his chair. “You ladies are hot, but taken.”

  Both Merissa and Cherry laughed over that.

  Giving them a crooked smile, Brand asked, “You two going to get in on the photo op?”

  Merissa tilted back to see him. “What do you mean?”

  Nodding toward Armie and the visiting fighters, Brand explained, “They agreed to do some fan photos. Rowdy didn’t tell you? That’s why the place is packed. Everyone is flocking in for the impromptu meet and greet.” He walked off after that, joining the group of welcoming women.

  Soon as they were alone, Cherry leaned in to be heard over the drone of conversations and laughter. “Does Armie know you’re here?”

  “I told him in a text.”

  “So maybe he’ll join us.”

  Merissa was pretty sure he wouldn’t. She hated the idea of secrecy, but she had agreed to Armie’s request, and she wouldn’t start regretting it now.

  When Leese came in, she saw him as a welcome interruption and waved him over.

  Looking very fine in faded jeans and a denim jacket, his inky-black hair mussed, beard shadow on his lean face, Leese got a lot of looks on his way to their table.

  Anxious to see him, barely able to keep her smile suppressed, Merissa stood. More than the other guys, Leese knew how she felt about Armie and now she couldn’t wait to give him the details.

  When he got close, he surprised her by grinning and offering a high five.

  She laughed and smacked her hand to his.

  Light blue eyes teasing, Leese spoke close so others wouldn’t hear. “I take it things went well?”

  “Things went amazingly.”

  “Glad to hear it.” His gaze cut to Cherry. “She knows?”

  “Yup.” Linking her arm through his, Merissa said, “You guys are my two best friends.”

  “I’m honored.”

  “Do you have plans? Miles and Brand just left so we have an empty chair. Want to join us?”

  “Be glad to.” But once she’d scooted in her chair, Leese put two hands to the table and stretched down to say, “In case you didn’t notice, Armie is mean mugging me.”

  Merissa popped her head up, looked across the room and got caught in Armie’s forceful gaze.

  “Wow,” Cherry whispered.

  “Yeah.” Leese laughed. “At least you’re the recipient now instead of me.”

  “Is he jealous of you?” Cherry asked.

  “Naw. He’s just coming to grips with things.”

  Merissa remembered Leese once telling her that Armie was fighting too many battles at one time. She didn’t want to be another battle.

  She just wanted to love him.

  Apparently, so did a whole bunch of other women. One by one, and occasionally in groups, they visited his table. Armie declined their company each time. Couldn’t the pushy women see he was involved in a meeting? That didn’t stop them from hanging on him, offering hugs and sometimes kisses and, given the many whispers in his ear, more.

 
; Merissa distracted herself by spending the next twenty minutes chatting up Leese and Cherry. She’d already had a glass of wine, so when Leese bought a new round of drinks, including a beer for himself, both she and Cherry ordered Cokes.

  Leese told her what to expect in the coming weeks for Armie, including the possibility that he’d go to a different camp.

  “He hasn’t told you any of this himself?”

  “We haven’t really talked much about his fight career.” They’d been too busy covering everything else, including his past. “And I guess I haven’t paid enough attention to Cannon’s routine. At least the fight is close. Cincinnati’s totally drivable.”

  “They probably want his debut fight to be for his hometown. I’m sure they’re expecting big things from him.”

  Cherry nodded. “Denver told me Armie will be the middleweight champ in no time.”

  Merissa looked at him again. “I knew he was good…” Good enough that he was now surrounded by people.

  Leese huffed a short laugh. “He’s a whole lot better than good. They’re calling him a phenomenon.” He cocked a brow. “Luckily Armie doesn’t suffer from performance anxiety.”

  Cherry bobbed her eyebrows. “Yeah, from what I heard, he doesn’t have that problem.”

  Casting Merissa a knowing look, Leese teased, “And now you’re blushing.”

  “Because she’s a straight-up hussy,” Cherry told him, then sighed. “I hope Armie appreciates how good he’s got it.”

  “Armie’s not a dummy. I think he knows.” Leese patted her hand. “I need to go. They’re getting ready to do photos.” He looked at each of them. “You two going to take part?”

  Cherry wrinkled her nose. “I’ll leave Denver to his adoring fans.”

  Shaking her head, Merissa said, “I’ll keep Cherry company.” That would be a lot more comfortable than waiting in a line full of fawning women, all anxious to get a picture with Armie when he was the only one she cared about.

  It was another hour before the crowd finally began to disperse. Merissa saw Leese head off with a cute blonde, and Brand and Miles returned to the tableful of ladies, this time with Justice joining them.

  “Do you ever wonder,” Cherry asked, “what they’re into?”