Steel

by Jeanne St. James

  “I don’t take orders from anyone.”

  Steel tilted his head. “Then why the fuck do you have a manager and trainer?”

  “To make me a better fighter.”

  “And why the fuck do you think that manager hired me?” Steel lifted a hand before she could answer. “To keep you the fuck alive. And that means when I give you a fucking order, you fucking listen. Consider me your manager for the time I’m here. Not for kickboxing but for your safety.”

  “I’m not a fucking kickboxer.”

  “No?”

  She dropped her chin but kept her eyes glued to his. “No.”

  “Then what are you?”

  She pushed away from the counter, bent over and picked up her gym bag. “Maybe you should have looked me up before you took the fucking job, Steel. A good bodyguard would’ve come prepared.” She strode out of the kitchen without a backward glance.

  Fuck him. She just pulled his pants down and gave him a direct kick in the fucking nuts.

  Because she was right.

  But she was still wrong about not listening to his order.

  So, they were even.

  Damn it.

  He’d never heard of her, but then, he never followed any women’s sports. Except beach volleyball. Now, that shit he watched. But not for the sport itself.

  He pulled his cell phone out of his side pocket and pulled up Google. He typed Kat’s full name into the search bar and waited the few seconds for the results to load.

  As his eyes scanned all the links the search pulled up, he whispered, “Damn.”

  She was a fucking champion. With one of those big shiny belts and everything.

  And it wasn’t boxing. Nor kickboxing. It was fucking MMA.

  The woman was a champion MMA fighter.

  He’d read some of the articles later. Right then he went to the images tab and scrolled through some of those. Pictures of referees holding up her arm as she won fight after fight.

  But she also lost a few. How her face wasn’t fucked up after seeing some of those photos, he didn’t know. Purple, swollen eyes. Bloody lips and mouthguards. Sliced cheeks. Bruises.

  She fought some names he recognized and, even more impressive, she beat them.

  And then there were the pictures of her title fights and, afterward, of her holding her championship belts. Last year. The year before. The year before that. And even the one before that.

  Fuck. She was the reigning women’s bantamweight champion for the last four fucking years.

  She’d even been challenged publicly by male MMA fighters, but he couldn’t tell if she ever fought them. Again, he’d read those articles later when he was alone and could pull them up on his laptop.

  Fucking Diesel! He had known what and who she was. He had to have. And all he mentioned was she was an athlete and “gym rat.”

  Steel went blindly into this whole thing thinking he had to protect some figure skater or dancer. Or, fuck, some girly sport competitor. A girl, or even a woman, who would be scared and, because of that, would listen and be easy to protect.

  But fuck no.

  He pulled up his text app and sent one to Diesel: Fuckn asshole.

  The boss man texted back almost immediately. Yeah, U R.

  Kat’s stomach growled, but she refused to go back downstairs to make herself something to eat.

  Not yet.

  If she was lucky, the man who was tasked with “babysitting” her would simply disappear. At twenty-nine, as well as a champion MMA fighter, she didn’t need his help since she was capable of taking care of herself.

  Always had been. Always will be.

  Berger was being paranoid. She’d had this stalker for months. While, yes, he’d done some criminal or obscene things to material objects, like her car, her apartment, her... panties, he had plenty of opportunities to confront her in person and he hadn’t.

  Kat leaned her head back against the wicker chair, kicked her bare feet up on the matching ottoman, letting her gaze drift across the pool below to the lake in the distance.

  This wasn’t her dream home. Hell, this wasn’t even her home. Even though it wasn’t her style, she liked it. It was peaceful and the view soothed her nerves. Especially when she got up early to watch the sunrise.

  Which was pretty much every morning since she was sleeping like shit.

  She was tired of moving, changing phone numbers, wondering if someone would be hiding in the back seat of her car. Or now her rental car. She hadn’t owned a car in months since she had to keep switching them out.

  It was a pain in her fucking ass. And the detective needed a fire lit under him to get this solved.

  It shouldn’t have even gotten this far. If it wasn’t for “the stalker” breaking into her last apartment and leaving his DNA all over her bed, along with a note on her pillow, then Berger never would have hired a bodyguard.

  This house was her third place in a matter of nine months. And her third gym. It was wearing on Berger, too, since he kept having to relocate with her, and his wife wasn’t thrilled about it.

  Not only that, he was losing clients because he had to leave them behind to stick with her. That wasn’t fair to him or his clients, and she hadn’t asked that of him. However, they’d been a team for years. Berger began training her when he was still competing himself. He noticed her at an amateur match and approached her, telling Kat she possessed a natural ability and the classes she was taking weren’t doing her a service. She needed real training with someone more experienced.

  Next thing she knew, she was competing more often and, once Berger retired from fighting and had more time to concentrate on her, he slipped easily into becoming her manager, too. He began arranging fights and sparring partners, courting sponsors and everything else needed to succeed in her career. Which was a lot.

  She knew with the money she made, she was his main bread and butter. Because of that, Berger stuck with her and was also overly protective of her, which was why he hired a bossy babysitter.

  A babysitter who was a complete dick.

  She sighed. Dick or not, she couldn’t avoid him forever by hiding in her room.

  To make Berger happy, she would just deal with Steel being her shadow for the next few days. Hopefully, it wasn’t longer than that. Otherwise, he was going to get on her nerves.

  She tensed and kept her eyes on the lake in the distance when one of the French doors behind her opened and the subject of her thoughts stepped out.

  She sucked in a breath, then tried to blow out her annoyance.

  It failed.

  “Think we need to set a rule,” she murmured as she heard the door close.

  “Think you forgot that I’m the boss of you until this is over.”

  She bit back her initial knee-jerk reaction and decided it was best to ignore his statement. “My bedroom’s off limits. It’ll be my sanctuary while you’re here. You don’t just walk in and do what you please.”

  “There’s no part of this house—or your life, for that matter—that’s off limits to me. That’s the rule.”

  Her sport was full of men, some of them quite arrogant. She tried to avoid those who were. Unfortunately, it would be impossible to avoid the one behind her.

  Unless she sent him packing.

  Anson Sterling, aka “Steel,” stepped in front of her chair and leaned back against the intricate wrought iron balcony railing.

  She lifted her gaze from his bare feet and defined calves, his loose navy knee-length shorts and up his torso, pausing at the outline of his dog tags under his white “wife-beater” type tank top.

  Apparently, he’d made himself at home and got comfortable.

  With his hands braced behind him on the railing, she studied the way his muscles bulged in his bare arms and broad shoulders.

  If the man had an ounce of fat on him, she’d be surprised.

  His body looked intimidating and powerful, and she doubted he had a difficult time in the ring.

  Maybe she’d get a
chance to see him fight. She was sure he was impressive. But she suspected he was more power than grace.

  Why were her thoughts leading her there? Why did she even care? That annoyed her more than him invading her personal space. “My bedroom is my private area. If you’re going to stick to me like glue, I’ll need some alone time.”

  “For what?’

  She lifted her gaze higher, letting it slide along his tightly bearded jaw, over his lips and nose.

  His nose had been broken at least once. Though, it wasn’t badly crooked. Whoever set it, did it well and the average person probably couldn’t tell at first it had been broken.

  Kat could tell.

  His eyes were a deep brown, his hair trimmed super short on the sides, just as short as his dark beard, but the top was longer. Long enough for a woman to run her fingers through it.

  A woman who was not her.

  His expression, which had been serious when he first stepped in front of her, now looked amused.

  Whatever.

  “I don’t want to have to worry about you catching me undressed. I wouldn’t want for you to embarrass yourself.”

  One side of his mouth lifted slightly. “There’s no chance of that.”

  “Of seeing me naked?”

  “Of me being embarrassed.” He tilted his head. “The human body can be a beautiful thing.”

  “I take it you look at naked men a lot while in the locker room?”

  The other side of his mouth curved up. “I appreciate a woman’s body more.”

  Of course he did.

  “How about respecting my privacy?”

  “As soon as you give respect to me. Kat, let’s get something else straight while we’re setting boundaries. You don’t need to like me. You just need to respect me.”

  “No, Steel, that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t need to respect you. You need to earn it. And you don’t earn it by encroaching on my personal space or dismissing my concerns.”

  “I have a job to do and I’m going to do it. Again, I don’t give a shit if you don’t like it... or me. But failure is not in my vocabulary, so I’m going to do what I have to do to make sure that doesn’t happen. Capisce?”

  She rolled her eyes before letting her gaze settle past him on a distant mountain. After minutes of silence, he shifted, but didn’t move from where he leaned.

  “Are you just going to stand there guarding me like I’m some breakable Ming vase? It’s creepier than my stalker.”

  “I came in here to check on you and figured it couldn’t hurt to get to know you a little bit since we’re stuck with each other.”

  Great.

  “You make enough scratch doing what you do to live here? Those cars, too?”

  Doing what you do...

  He continued, “And on that fucking note, this isn’t the best place to be living with all these big windows. Anyone can be peeping in.”

  “I take it you finally did your research.”

  “Asked you a question.”

  “Technically you asked me two.”

  “Then I expect two answers.”

  Once again, she bit back her initial response. But it was a struggle. “I make good scratch, as you call it. But no, I can’t afford this house or those cars.”

  “Then, is this your man’s house?”

  Her man? Was he the type who thought women couldn’t survive without a man? Probably. Those were the type no matter what you did to prove them wrong, it didn’t matter. You were always a helpless female.

  “If you have to know, it’s one of my sponsors. They were kind enough to let me borrow it since I can’t stay anywhere for long. This is the third place I’ve moved into temporarily. And honestly, I’m fucking sick of moving. I’m tired of hiding and looking over my shoulder.” Fuck, she didn’t mean to let that last slip. She had done well at hiding her worry from Berger.

  “Stalkers like to wear their victims down.”

  “No shit. I’m past worn down.”

  “After seeing you spar, I told Berger you could take care of yourself.”

  Huh. She didn’t expect that from anyone, especially him. Maybe he’d decided to give her a little respect finally. “I can protect myself if the threat is face to face. Hard to do that when the man sticks to the shadows.”

  “Again, what do you know about real fighting? What you do isn’t real.”

  So much for the split second of respect. “It’s not, huh?” If he was trying to get to “know” her, insulting her was not the way to do it.

  “No, and I can say that because I also do the same shit. What I do in the ring is not what I do in the field.”

  “The field?”

  He jerked his chin up slightly, indicating her. “These assignments. Real life shit. Uncontrolled. The fight isn’t stopped because of a bell or an injury. What happens out there?” He jerked his head toward beyond the balcony. “No cage. No bells. No time limits. No refs. No trainer. It’s you fighting for your fucking life.”

  “I’m sure Google told you all about me and my skills.”

  He said nothing. She was right. He did exactly what she expected, some quick research when she had pointed out he hadn’t prepared.

  And he didn’t seem the type to like being called out on it.

  “I didn’t dig that deep yet,” he finally admitted.

  “Be careful you don’t fall into that hole while your digging, it might be deeper than you think,” she murmured.

  Her attention was drawn back to him when he crossed his arms over his chest, making his thick biceps bunch. His skin was getting slick from sweat.

  He wasn’t used to this climate.

  “You should go inside.” And get off my balcony and out of my room. And while you’re at it, leave this house, the neighborhood and Nevada.

  He wiped a hand over his brow. “How can you stand this fucking heat?”

  She lifted one shoulder like living in the devil’s oven was no big deal. “I’m used to it. It’s bearable at this time of year, it’s much worse in summer.”

  “Thank fuck this job will be over long before summer.”

  Yes, thank fuck for that.

  “You grow up here in Nevada?”

  How much should she give him? “Indiana.” He could find that out easily enough on the internet once he started digging deeper, if he even took the time to do so.

  “No deserts in Indiana,” he said.

  “No men just walking into my bedroom in Indiana, either. Capisce?”

  “No men at all? You like pussy? ‘Cause, just saying, you look like a dyke with that haircut.”

  He was purposely trying to get her riled up. Why? “You a dick? ‘Cause, just saying, you act like a dick.” She rose from the chair. “And now... since you won’t leave my room, I will.”

  Before she could turn, he grabbed her. She stared at his fingers tightly circling her wrist, then lifted her eyes until they hit his. “Two things I won’t tolerate you doing without permission. You walking into my room like you did and you touching me like you’re currently doing.” She jerked her arm, but he didn’t release her.

  “Women aren’t born to be fighters. They’re supposed to be the gentler sex. Women like you have a reason to fight. You got Daddy issues, Kitty Kat?”

  Women like you.

  It was her father all over again.

  Women weren’t supposed to be tough.

  Women weren’t supposed to be fighters.

  They were supposed to be accommodating. Sweet and gentle. Obedient.

  “Did your Daddy hurt you?”

  A thick band tightened around Kat’s chest. “Anyone else ever tell you you’re an asshole?” It was probably his middle name.

  “Every damn day.”

  It was like he was proud of it. “Why’s that? Do you have Mommy issues, Anson? Did she nurse you until you were ten? Do you still miss sucking on that tit?”

  The fucker grinned.

  None of this was funny. She wasn’t finding it even the s
lightest bit entertaining and there was no way she could deal with him another minute. “You’re fired.”

  His fingers squeezed even tighter around her wrist and his grin disappeared. “You didn’t hire me, so you can’t fire me.”

  “Bullshit. I’m paying you.”

  “Your manager is paying my boss. I don’t want to be here, and you don’t want me here, so it’s mutual, Kat.”

  She jerked her arm again, harder this time, but his fingers were digging deep into her flesh. “I’m calling Berger.”

  “You fucking do that. But know this, you won’t get someone better than me to protect your ass. I guarantee it. I’ve been protecting people for a long fucking time. Most men have a fucking conscience and will hesitate before doing the unthinkable, and that split second could mean your life or death.”

  Life or death.

  He had said he could snap someone’s neck in one twist. Now he was saying he would do that or whatever was necessary to protect her.

  She was sure if she called Berger and had him fired, her manager would just hire someone else. And it was her guess that most alpha-male, Neanderthal-type bodyguards were dicks.

  “You’d kill someone if my life was threatened?”

  He deflected her question with a question. “Would you?”

  “Your life? No. Mine? Yes,” she answered truthfully.

  “That’s what makes us different and proves I’m capable for this job. For me, the answer to both of those questions is yes.”

  She wondered how honest that answer was. She also wondered if his nickname had anything to do with his ability to callously kill someone. Well, since they were getting to know each other... “Why Steel?”

  His eyelids lowered just a tad and his face softened. “Got a set of them.”

  He thought he was such a fucking charmer. He probably had no problem talking women into his bed. But she was sure he had a problem with them staying. A woman could only deal with an asshole for so long, no matter how good the dick. “Do you want me to test that theory?”