by Quinn, Cari
Lack of sleep was making me insane.
“I’m looking for someone,” I said in what I hoped was a non-confrontational voice. Patience had never been my strong suit. “Maybe you can help me?”
“There aren’t any little girls here, freak. Are you on one of those pedo watch lists?” She already had her phone in hand. She’d probably commence scanning a FBI database for my picture at the first wrong move.
Belatedly, I realized my hood obscured a good part of my head. No wonder she thought I was some kind of creeper. I shoved it back. “No pedo here, just a fellow fighter.” I gave her my most disarming smile and stuck out a hand. “Maybe you’ve heard of me? Tray Knox?”
She narrowed her eyes until they were slits. “Fox?”
Goddammit. “Yeah. Fox.” I drew back my hand when it became obvious she thought I had a communicable disease.
“What’re you doing here?” She smirked. “Switching sides?”
“I’m looking for someone. Name’s Mia.” I hoped a first name would suffice, since I didn’t have a last. That would’ve been useful information, but I was known for my looks, not my mind.
“Oh fuck no. Don’t tell me it’s for real. You’re actually gonna fight that bitch?”
I nearly defended Mia’s unseen honor before acknowledging that wasn’t the best tack to take with present company. “You’ve heard she wants to fight me?”
“Who the eff hasn’t? She’s been telling everyone ’round here, thinking it makes her seem hard. Like a dude like you’s ever gonna fight some white trash pussy like her.”
I crossed my arms. “Is that so?”
She cocked an eyebrow and got up in my face. Hello, crash course 101 in women’s MMA. So far, it didn’t look much different than men’s, minus the big pair of cans currently grinding into my pecs. Her nipples felt like nails.
“You trying to tell me you’re seriously considering fighting her? You wanna get thrown in the slammer when you break one of her gel tips? Dumb hick fuck.” She reached up and slammed the side of her hand into my head.
It actually hurt. Damn, these babes were something.
“Back off, Vanity.”
I braced at Mia’s husky voice. My brain kicked in just as the angry brunette spun around.
“Yeah? Who’s going to make me?”
Mia didn’t look the least bit concerned. She wore a pair of loose sweatpants, tied at the waist and a baggy T-shirt that revealed one of the straps of her sports bra. She still had on my jacket.
My body braced even further at that. I’d never had a woman wear my clothes before. It was sexier than I would’ve guessed. Even if Mia hated me, she was walking around wrapped up in my smell. It was basically a built-in deterrent to every other male within pissing distance.
Couldn’t say I minded that either.
Ignoring the girl she’d called Vanity, Mia lifted a brow in my general direction. “Can I help you?”
She had cojones, all right. Even I would’ve been hard-pressed to turn a blind eye to someone who was practically snarling in my face.
“I believe we have some business to discuss.”
“Do we?” Mia tilted her head and her loose ponytail unfurled a bit around her cheeks. In the bright light of morning, her bruises were more pronounced, their mottled colors less hidden by makeup. She almost matched Vanity’s girled-up camo gear. “Unless you have an answer for me, I’m pretty sure we…discussed all we needed to last night.”
“I don’t think so.” I turned my smile on Vanity, who only looked marginally more friendly than she had before. “Thank you for your help. And the hit to the skull. It helped me wake up.”
Shaking her head, she looked from me to Mia and back again. “Dumbasses.” She slammed her way into the gym.
“Think I should’ve comped her some tickets to the Costas fight?” I dragged my hood back up.
Mia snorted and hefted her impressively large gym bag as she headed for the door. I would’ve offered to carry it for her, had I not been afraid to risk harm to my personal area.
“What did you need?” she asked over her shoulder, dismissing me without the words.
She hadn’t looked me in the eye yet, and I wasn’t sure if that was because she’d almost gotten me off, I’d held her during her freak out, or she wasn’t going to deal with me until I consented to what she wanted.
Which was not going to happen.
That didn’t mean I necessarily intended to tell her that now. She’d rubbed my dick last night solely to get her way. She thought I was easily played. Pliable like dough. All she had to do was jerk me off, bat her pretty lashes, and boom, I’d kick her ass.
Think again, buttercup.
But if she liked playing games, I was happy to oblige.
“You said you wanted to fight me,” I said cheerfully. “Normally, I get some credentials or some tape to show me who I’m dealing with. I’ve never heard of you, so I’m not agreeing to anything until I see what you’ve got.”
She hissed out a long breath. The cut on her upper lip seemed better, but the bottom one still looked mangled, despite being glossed with some kind of cream. “Fine.” She jerked her head toward the gym. “Come on.”
I pulled my hood farther down. “Sure I won’t grow a pair of ovaries by coming in?”
“Nope, I’m not sure at all. Since you seem to be straddling the line already, this might push you over the edge.” She shut the door in my face.
Smothering a grin, I opened it again and headed inside. I wasn’t immediately flattened by a wave of estrogen or assaulted with an eye-popping array of tampon dispensers, so I figured I could handle it.
I followed Mia down a narrow hallway to a scarred door very clearly labeled Ladies. Since no men were allowed here, I didn’t understand why it just didn’t say John. When I voiced that sentiment, she snapped, “We have male trainers, dumbass.” And left me standing in the hall.
Dumbass must be the most popular endearment in this part of town.
I propped a foot on the wall and waited, impatiently bouncing on my heel. A couple of women wandered past and sized me up. Some of their looks were speculative, some wary, some downright lewd. One of them didn’t lift her gaze from my crotch the entire time she pelted me with questions about my identity. Two of them called me Fox. No one called me Tray.
By the time Mia emerged in her sports bra and a pair of tiny bike shorts, I was considering a number of sexual harassment suits.
She compensated for the excess attention I’d received by proceeding to give me absolutely none for the next two hours. It was like our previous afternoon at the bar, except in this case, I got to watch her hot as fuck body do an assortment of moves that shouldn’t be performed outside a bedroom.
Even watching her run churned me up.
While she jabbed and kicked and spun like a damn ice skater without the blades, I studied her form. She worked out with a male trainer and a female one sporting excessively curly blonde hair with the obvious camaraderie that came from fighting together for a long time. She seemed like such a lone wolf that I was surprised she had a network at the gym similar to mine.
I even saw her laugh. Not often, but now and then.
Her endurance intrigued me, and I wondered what would truly wear her out. Even while she was guzzling water and mopping her sweaty brow, she never seemed genuinely tired. She showed the same seamless, unflappable grace at the end of her session as she did at the beginning. I’d never seen a fighter quite like her before.
And Mia was definitely a fighter. The usual discordant gym noises surrounded me, and the typical scents filled my nose, but she took all my focus. She had some deficiencies, specifically the way she blocked kicks with her feet rather than her shins and her tendency to forget to properly guard her core, but overall, I was damn impressed. She worked on several disciplines during her session, from Brazilian Jiu Jitsu to Muay Thai to Karate and appeared skilled at them all. She possessed all the single-mindedness and determination I lacked lately.
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If I’d thought she would’ve gone for it, I would’ve suggested she get with Timmins at The Cage. He had the kind of experience she needed to improve. He probably wouldn’t take on a woman fighter though. He was hopelessly old-school. Still, she had the kind of native ability that could go far, all the way up to the pros if she wanted.
I hoped like hell she didn’t.
Her blond sparring partner wandered to my side as soon as Mia went to get changed. She’d been working out for over two solid hours and had sweated through her sports bra. I imagined her in the shower. Shampooing her ropey dark hair, flexing her lean physique under the spray, caressing those tight curves with that lucky ass bar of soap—
“So you gonna do it, Foxy?”
I blinked at the blond. The version of “doing it” on my mind wasn’t the one she was referring to.
“Are you going to fight Spyder?”
I couldn’t keep from chuckling. “Spyder? That’s Mia’s fighting name?” Some set we were. Her a spider, me a fox. One swipe of my paw and I’d crush her.
Metaphorical? Maybe. Perhaps it was ironic, since Mia seemed more capable of drawing first blood from me than vice versa.
The blond stared me down with a flat expression that fit what I’d seen her do on the mat. She was one hell of a grappler, better than some of the guys I trained with daily. “Considering yours is Fox, I wouldn’t get too judgmental. Now I asked you a question.”
Knowing I was pissing her off—and enjoying that fact—I gave her an easy smile. “What’s it to you?”
“I’m in her corner, that’s what it is to me. She’s worth your time. You saw that yourself. And that’s two days after she got in a catfight with some shady bitches who’d love nothing more than to get her out of the octagon. They know she’s serious, and they hate her for it.”
“How serious?”
“Enough to do some damage before she gets out of the game.” A fat curl dropped between her eyes, and she huffed it away. “You could help her do that faster, if you wanted to.”
I leaned forward on the folding chair I’d been stationed on for the last couple of hours and crushed the water bottle in my fist. Screw the tree huggers. “Is she really getting out? Soon?”
“Well, now, I guess that’s up to you. So what’s it gonna be, Foxy?”
Twelve
After my shower, I strode into the gym, struggling with my half zipped bag as I walked. My head was down, so I nearly walked into Kizzy—and Fox.
It was just past noon, and I was due at work at one. Tonight I’d be working the tail end of the lunch shift right through to dinner and beyond. With my extensive training schedule, I usually only worked two ten-hour shifts a week along with a six hour and a four hour. The longer days on my feet wore me out, but I appreciated the tips.
What I didn’t appreciate? Seeing my friend’s guilty expression and knowing she’d been telling my business to the dude I wanted to fight.
We had nothing between us, Fox and me. No friendship, no hot looks, definitely no hotter sex. I intended to keep it that way.
“Kiz?” I grabbed the liter bottle of water I’d left behind and grimaced. My hands had taken a beating today. “My office, please?”
Fox said nothing, just watched us with his fingers loosely linked between his knees and his head cocked. His silence didn’t fool me. I could only imagine what he’d have to say about what he’d witnessed.
I didn’t care about his opinion on my combat skills, outside of him thinking I was a worthy opponent. Let him believe what he wanted. If he continued to underestimate me, I’d win with less effort.
Kizzy joined me near the sports drink machine, the place where we always had our little confabs. I glanced back just long enough to see Fox smirk, then focused on the freckled, heart-shaped face in front of me. The top of Kizzy’s voluminous hair only reached my chin, but she’d kicked a lot of asses from that lower vantage point. Now I was going to do some damage to hers.
“What did you say to him?” I demanded.
Kizzy sighed. “I suggested he father your babies and build you a Barbie castle to live in with his bare hands. That’s okay, right?”
I didn’t want to smile, so I didn’t. “Spill.”
“I just asked if he was going to fight you.” She winced. “And I may have accidentally called you Spyder.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? He’ll never let me live that down.” Now he knew I fought under the name of an common house pest. My cred was growing by the minute.
She pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes skyward. “If you fight him, he’ll hear it announced. Are you two hanging out now or something? I thought this was a one-off thing, that he just wanted to see how you move.”
“I’d say that’s accurate.” I sneaked another glance at Fox. Who was staring unabashedly at my ass.
“Are you fucking him?” She slapped my arm so hard that the sound bounced off the walls. “Are you crazy?”
“I don’t fuck random men.” Sucking them, on the other hand… “Especially fighters.”
Her shoulders slouched as she sighed in obvious relief. “He probably has a small dick. All the muscles in use elsewhere.”
“Actually, I think he’s above average.” And now would be a fine time to just stop talking. Really.
Kizzy propped her fists on her hips and glared. “I knew it! You blew him, didn’t you? Did he pay you? That slimy bastard—”
“Shh,” I hissed. “Keep your voice down. I did not blow him.” But I would’ve, if he’d let me.
This was what I got for talking too much to a friend. Going to confession was not my specialty, but now and then, even outcasts slipped up and overshared. The last time Kizzy spent the night, she’d brought over a bottle of whiskey, and I’d accidentally broken my unspoken rule about not drinking with company. We’d finished off the bottle and heretofore unspilled secrets had flown from my mouth. Not the big ones. Not anything I couldn’t afford to tell.
But the occasional BJs for money? Yeah. That.
Kizzy frowned so deeply she could’ve popped a blood vessel in her gray eyes. “Then how do you know the size of his freaking tool, Mia?”
“I bumped into it.” With all five of my fingers and my palm. Close enough.
“Right. Sure. Uh-huh.”
“Trust me, Kiz, he’s a decent size. Besides, am I gonna be fighting his prick?” I smothered a snort. “Can we please move on now?”
Despite our height difference, she inched up on her tiptoes and gripped my shoulders. In Kizzy’s mind, she was six feet taller than everyone else. “He’s the type of guy who’ll screw you up and leave you begging for more. I don’t want to see you hurt.” She grinned. “Internally anyway.”
“We live in a fucked up world. You get that, right? What we do for money, it’s not normal.”
“Who says what’s normal? I say, follow your bliss.” She blinked up at me. “He asked if you were getting out.”
My stomach knotted. I didn’t want to be affected that he cared about my safety. And I definitely didn’t want to start making assumptions that he gave a damn. It didn’t matter if he did.
We were adversaries. He was my ticket to a payout. Nothing more, nothing less.
I flipped my wet braid over my shoulder, well aware it was already fraying. Story of my life. “What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t tell him anything. We both know that depends on him. If financially you feel you can afford to go.”
“I will go,” I said softly.
She tugged hard on the cord of her hoodie. “Why do you have to fight him? Why can’t it be someone else?”
“It has to be him, Kiz.” I’d answered this question a million times already. I didn’t want to answer it again. Squeezing her arm, I stepped away. “Talk to you later.”
As I strolled back to Fox, he watched me with cool, assessing eyes. They were tranquil like the Caribbean, but his emotions boiled beneath the surface. We were alike that way, though I hated tha
t I could see similarities between us when I needed to see differences.
I needed to hate him—or better yet, feel nothing at all. And so far, I just…couldn’t.
“Heading back?” He unfolded his long frame from his puny folding chair. “I’ll walk you.”
See, stuff like this couldn’t keep happening. We were not dating. He wasn’t my buddy.
“No, thanks.” I kept my voice as chilly as I could while eyeing the obvious erection in his sweats.
Hello there, massive boner. Nice to see you again so soon.
Did he really have to make things so difficult for me? Not that I’d ever been particularly smitten with penises before, but I rather liked his.
Judging from its readiness to greet me, the sentiment was mutual.
“C’mon, don’t be like that. We’re heading the same place after all.” He sauntered down the hall. He obviously expected me to scamper behind him like one of his little ring card girls, giggling and simpering for attention.
Like hell.
Gritting my teeth, I followed and strode out the door he held open. Then I kept walking. The snow-laden air slapped me in the face, freezing the drops of water still clinging to my skin, but I didn’t slow down. He could chase after me.
Without comment, he fell into step beside me. We’d gone almost a block in tense silence when he spoke. “Where’s your jacket?”
Not his jacket, but mine. Panic seized me as I glanced up at him and squinted from the watery halo of sunshine behind his head. As stupid as it was, I loved that coat already.
“Fuck, I forgot it.” I turned back.
He grabbed my arm. “I’ve got it. Wait here.” He didn’t give me a chance to argue.
His long steps ate up the pavement as he rushed toward the gym. He must’ve realized this neighborhood was not the place to be leaving leather goods around. Even ones that were battle-worn.
Five minutes later, he jogged back to me, jacket in hand and a wry grin on his annoyingly attractive face. Wanting to put even the slightest dent in it seemed like a crime against nature.
“Slowing up in your old age?” I cocked a brow so he couldn’t see how touched I was that he’d gone back to get his coat for me. And that he was letting me hang on to his property in the first place. I’d been nothing but obnoxious to him, going so far as demanding he sign up for me to kick his ass, and he still kept coming back for more.