The Undisputed Series

by Teague, A. S.

  Tearing his lips from mine, I pant as he tells me, “Crossing that last item off the list isn’t the end, baby. It’s just the beginning.”

  Epilogue

  December

  Breccan

  “Breccan!”

  Her shrill scream wakes me from a sound sleep, and I spring to my feet, instantly alert.

  “Breccan!” she screams again, the sound of her voice causing my blood to turn cold.

  The room’s pitch black, my eyes taking too long to adjust to the darkness. Finally, I’m able to read the clock on my bedside table, the red numbers telling me that it’s the middle of the night.

  “Sidney?” I shout back. “Where are you?”

  “In here.” Her voice comes from behind the closed bathroom door, a sliver of light guiding me to where my wife is crying.

  “What’s the matter, baby?” I ask panicked, as I throw the door open.

  Sidney’s sitting on the floor, a puddle of water at her feet, her face pale and streaked with tears. Fear grips my gut and I rush in to the room, slipping on the liquid and landing hard beside her with an “oomph.”

  “Oh God, Breccan, are you okay?” she asks a split second before she clutches her enormous belly and lets out a low moan.

  Scrambling to my feet, I search the room for a towel and pull one off the wall-mounted rack. Mopping up the floor, I ask again, “What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes wide with fear, she tells me, “I’m in labor. My water broke.” The pain leaves her face and she giggles. “You just slipped in it.”

  “Fuck. I’m gonna call 9-1-1,” I tell her, rushing from the room to get my cellphone.

  Laughter follows me out of the bathroom. I locate my phone and in my rush to get back to her, I nearly run her over.

  “Don’t call an ambulance, dummy. Just take me to the hospital!” she scolds, a smile playing at her lips.

  “How can you be smiling at a time like this?” I ask, incredulously, but don’t argue.

  I grab the bag that’s been packed and sitting by the door for two weeks and run from the room.

  “Breccan!” she yells again, and I skid to a stop.

  “Shit, sorry, I’m coming.” I tell her once I realize that I’ve almost left without her.

  I rush back to her and, holding her elbow for support, begin to guide her from the room. We make it almost to the doorway when she doubles over, an agonized moan escaping her lips.

  “Okay, baby, just breathe. Remember the classes. Hoo-hoo-hee-hee.”

  She nods and begins breathing through the contraction with me.

  “That’s it, baby. You’re doing great,” I encourage, and in just a moment, the pain has eased off again and she stands upright.

  “They’re getting closer together. And stronger,” she tells me, and I again spring in to action.

  “Okay, let’s get you in the car before the next one.”

  She giggles again as I try to pull her through the door. “Honey. You gonna put any clothes on, or are you wanting to give the nurses a show?”

  I glance down and realize that I’ve been trying to rush her through the door while wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, wet from the fluid I’d slipped in earlier.

  “Fuck!” I bark and drop her arm to throw on a pair of pants and tee shirt.

  “Relax, honey,” she soothes, and I try to calm down. She rubs my arm with her soft hand, and I realize the irony of her trying to calm me while she’s the one in immense pain.

  “Okay, I’m calm. And dressed. Let’s go.”

  Five hours later

  “One last push. You can do it, Sidney. Give me one last push.”

  I run my hand over Sidney’s sweaty head and squeeze her fingers. “You can do it, baby. You can do it,” I whisper in her ear.

  A tear slides down her cheek. “I can’t!” she cries. “I’m tired. I can’t do it.”

  I kiss the moisture away from her face. “You can. One more push and our beautiful baby girl will be here,” I promise.

  She shakes her head, defeat written all over her face. “I’m not strong enough, Breccan.” She moans, the beginning of a contraction causing her voice to break.

  “Sidney Carlisle, you are the strongest fucking person I’ve ever met. There’s nothing you can’t do,” I tell her fiercely, my eyes locked on hers.

  She bites her lip and hesitates only a brief moment.

  “That’s it baby. One more time,” I encourage.

  She squeezes her eyes shut and bears down, putting every last ounce of energy she possesses in to this push. Her efforts are rewarded because a moment later, a strangled cry breaks through the silence.

  “It’s a girl!” the doctor announces, holding a wet, squirming, screaming baby in the air.

  “Oh my God,” Sidney breathes, her eyes flying open at the sound of our daughter’s first cries.

  The doctor places the baby on her chest and her arms immediately wrap around the tiny human that she’s just brought in to the world.

  I drop my forehead to Sidney’s, my eyes closed tight. “You did it, baby. You were amazing and you did it,” I murmur over and over, working up the courage to look at the baby we created.

  Over the last few months, I’ve imagined how this day would feel, the moment Olivia came in to the world. I thought I had a pretty good idea of what it would be like, the first time I saw my baby, the first time I held her in my arms. I envisioned myself beaming proudly at the doctor and nurses, holding the baby up like she was Simba from the Lion King.

  But when I open my eyes, and Sidney places the impossibly tiny baby in my arms, nothing could have prepared me for how I actually feel.

  Her eyes open wide, the moment she looks at me, I swear the world stops spinning.

  My heart stops beating.

  My lungs wouldn’t pull in a breath.

  I realize in that moment, that I will never do anything as great as being this little girl’s father.

  “Olivia Connor Carlisle,” I say her name aloud and tear my gaze away from her perfect little face to look at my wife.

  “She’s perfect,” Sidney whispers.

  As tears fill my eyes, I look back down in to her baby blue eyes and tell her, “You’re our greatest adventure yet.”

  THE END

  Get ready for more inside the cage with Rebecca and Ryker in Unraveled

  http://amzn.to/2knyWww

  Unraveled

  Prologue

  Ryker

  I stare out the window, not focusing on anything. The sky’s gray, and a light drizzle’s been falling for the last few hours. I’ve always been superstitious, and today’s weather is a bad sign. This weather is exactly why I moved from Washington to Miami.

  I’m still staring at the rain, trying to shake the memories it had brought, when someone clears their throat behind me. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in through my nose and count to ten. Once I’ve slowly released the air from my lungs, I open my eyes and turn my body away from the depressing view to face the men sitting across the table.

  The man in the suit speaks. “Ryker. You know why we’ve called you in here today.”

  I shift my gaze in his direction. I blink at him once and lean forward in my seat before resting my muscular forearms on the large conference table. My stomach somersaults as I lace my fingers together, but I never take my eyes off him. When he begins to squirm under my penetrating gaze, I let the corners of my mouth tip up just enough for him to notice.

  “Actually, Mr. Brown, I haven’t the first clue as to why you dragged me from my bed and out in this nasty weather. Please, enlighten me.” I make sure the smirk remains on my face. My chest feels as though a two-hundred-pound weight is settled in the center of it, but I don’t let that show.

  The man to the left of the suit frowns at me, but I don’t break eye contact with the president of the fighting league.

  “Don’t play games with me. You know exactly why you’re here.” A scowl appears on his thin face, and it dawns on me that
he looks just like the weasel he is.

  I have to give him credit. Even though he’s squirming under my stare, he never breaks eye contact. After another moment, I stop toying with him and lean back in my seat. I expel a breath in the hopes that it will ease the vise grip around my heart. Then I stretch a wide grin across my face. I raise my arms above my head, wiggling my fingers before placing them behind my head and trying to relax a bit.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and let me in on your little secret, Mr. Brown, so I can get the hell out of here and back to my bed.” I wink at him and reach for my glass of water. I take a small sip and hope that the water will soothe my parched tongue, but it does nothing to help.

  When my agent called this morning and told me that I needed to get down to headquarters as soon as possible, dread filled my belly. Being called in to talk with the president of the league just days before a fight is never a good thing. But I’m not going to give the asshole the satisfaction of knowing he is making me sweat. Fuck that.

  I glance out the window at the overcast sky. Every time I’ve received bad news in my life, the weather was like this. My stomach began to ache as soon as I hung up, and it has grown worse with each passing minute I’m forced to sit across from these two men.

  It’s the man beside Mr. Brown who speaks this time. “I’ll just get straight to the point then, Mr. Hawke.”

  I recognize him as the league’s resident physician. He’s always been a nice enough guy, but today, I have no doubt that I’ll leave here detesting him almost as much as I hate Brown.

  “Your drug test came back positive for performance-enhancing drugs.”

  Like I’ve been punched in the gut, the air rushes from my lungs. There’s no way in fuck I tested positive for anything, much less steroids. I gasp for breath and see the corner of Brown’s lip tip up. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s shocked me, I silently tell myself to buck up. Even though the fear magnifies, I don’t let it show.

  Blinking once, I respond, my voice strong and steady. “Not possible.”

  The doc glances down at the folder in his hands, and the lights gleam off his shiny bald head. He flips through a few pages before folding the page and holding it out to me. “See for yourself.”

  I look at his outstretched hand and shake my head. “Nah. Don’t think so.”

  He clears his throat and says, “Mr. Hawke, we had both samples tested––twice. It’s positive.”

  “There’s no way,” I growl.

  The doctor continues to hold the papers out to me, and finally, unable to resist any longer, I snatch them from his hands. The papers vibrate, and I realize that my hand is shaking.

  I quickly scan the document, but there’s no mistaking the bold letters that say Positive.

  My manager, Smitty, has been silent at my right the entire meeting, but with the news, he springs to his feet. “Test him again. Until then, we’re not listening to any more of this bullshit.” Rounding on me, he says, “Get your ass up, Ryk. We don’t have to take this.”

  “Oh, but you do,” Mr. Brown informs us, a sinister smile on his face. “You’re suspended. Effective immediately. Two years.”

  The moment his words register in my brain, my lungs deflate.

  Two years?

  That’s a death sentence for my career. My mind spins as I think about the implications of two years out of the octagon. The weight on my chest has doubled, and I can’t seem to get any oxygen into my lungs.

  Brown continues to smirk at me, and I realize he’s enjoying this. I knew that this jerk has had it out for me, but I had no idea how badly he wanted me out of the cage. Not one to show any weakness, I pull myself together in less than sixty seconds. Reaching deep inside, I find the willpower to match his smugness.

  “Fuck you, Brown,” Smitty barks beside me, jumping to his feet. “Two years is outrageous. No one’s ever been suspended for that long just for pissing hot. What kind of bullshit are you trying to pull here?” His round face is red, and spit flies from his mouth as he shouts. His hands are hanging at his side, his fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

  “Let’s not get worked up here, Smit,” Mr. Brown says, finally looking away from me. He holds one hand in the air. “It’s an appropriate suspension given his position and stature in this organization. It wouldn’t look good for us to just give him a slap on the wrist, now, would it?” The motherfucker stares at me and lifts a shoulder, “I don’t know why he’s so upset with me, Ryk. It’s you who tested positive for the drugs, after all.”

  “You sonofa––” Smitty lunges across the table.

  I finally break out of my trance. Grabbing him by the arm, I pull him back.

  “Well, that’s gonna be a ten-thousand-dollar fine,” the president says, completely unaffected, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

  I’ve heard enough. My heart is pounding nearly out of my chest, and my stomach twists, but I push the feeling of fear to the back of my mind and stand. “You know, Mr. Brown. I was needing a vacation anyway. I’ll be in touch.”

  Turning on my heel, I don’t spare another glance as I stride out of the conference room. I keep walking, ignoring Smitty the until we get to my Chevelle.

  When I reach to open the door, he grabs my arm.

  “Ryker! What the fuck?”

  I shake his hand off my arm and grip the doorframe, unable to face him. I don’t have an explanation for what just happened, but I know how it looks. After a few tense moments, I finally look at him, and once I’ve released the door I turn toward him. The rain’s falling even harder now, and I’m completely soaked. Smitty’s wisps of gray hair are sticking to his forehead, and if it weren’t the worst day of my life, I’d laugh at the sight.

  “Tell me it’s not true. Tell me right now that that jackass is fuckin’ with ya,” he demands.

  “It’s not true, Smitty. I mean, the fucking test results sure looked legit, but I didn’t take shit,” I tell him honestly.

  I don’t know what the fuck just happened in there, but I know I’m not a cheater.

  His expression morphs from anger to shock and back again in the blink of an eye. “You’re fired, Ryker,” he barks at me.

  My heart skips a beat.

  Fired? For what?

  I want to argue, but he’s stomping away from me before I get the chance. Like a hot poker is sticking me in the gut, my stomach burns.

  We’ve worked together for years. How the fuck could he just walk away from me like that? I watch as he stalks away from me, never bothering to look back.

  Once he’s out of sight, I fold my large frame into my classic muscle car and then start the engine. The pleasure I usually get from hearing the car roar to life never comes, and while I sit in the parking lot, the realization of what’s just happened hits me. My shoulders slump, and I drop my head into my hands.

  This morning, when I woke up, I was on top of the world. The reigning light heavyweight champ. Highest-paid fighter in history. Loved and adored by millions of people worldwide. And, now, just a week before my first fight since my injury—the fight that was being billed as the best comeback in sports—I am out. Suspended for two years, which may as well be a lifetime ban at the age of thirty-four.

  After allowing myself to wallow for far longer than I should have, I sit up and square my shoulders. Blowing out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding, I put the car in gear and pull out of the parking lot. I don’t bother looking in the rearview mirror. There’s nothing left for me back there anyway.

  Chapter One

  Rebecca

  Eighteen months later

  Leaning back in my office chair, I take a minute to admire my work, pleased with myself. A grin spreads across my face. It isn’t often that I have to take matters into my own hands, but when I do, I never disappoint. The bell above the door jingles as it’s opened, and I roll my eyes. I hate that fucking bell, but Brec insisted we put it up so I would know whenever someone came in. Something about needing
to look professional. I glance up and see that it’s none other than the boss himself, so I ignore him and go back to patting myself on the back for a job well done.

  “Working hard, I see,” he grumbles, stopping in front of my desk.

  I proudly grin at him. “Yep. That only took me, like, half an hour!”

  “Jesus, Rebecca. You spent half an hour on the clock painting your fucking toenails.” He groans, scrubbing a hand down his face.

  My grin turns into a frown. “Uhm. How about, instead of bitching at me, you take a minute and look at what a good job I did. Seriously, Breccan. That looks like I paid fifty bucks at the spa!”

  He barely glances at my feet when he mutters, “Yeah, they look great. Can’t believe I pay you to paint your damn nails all day.”

  Rolling my eyes, I ask him, “Who’s your first client this morning?”

  His eyebrows draw together. “I don’t know.”

  “And your business lunch with that new featherweight—what time is that again?”

  He shrugs. “Again, I don’t know.”

  “And tell me one more time: Where’s the charity gala you’re speaking at tonight being held?” I arch an eyebrow while I wait for his response.

  “I don’t know. You haven’t told me yet.”

  “Exactly. You don’t know. And do you know why you don’t know?” I don’t bother waiting for him to answer. “Because you pay me to know.” I point a bright-red fingernail at my chest. “So don’t come in here bitching at me for painting my toenails or I’ll quit and you’ll be fucked.”

  He scowls me but concedes. “Okay, fine. Please, Rebecca the Great, tell me who the first person on my schedule is.”

  I give him a smug smile. “That’s more like it.” I open the calendar on my computer before rattling off the names of his first three clients and then waving him off.