Battered Not Broken

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This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are products of the author’s imagination and are in no way real. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Battered Not Broken

Copyright © 2012 Ranae Rose

Cover Design by Ranae Rose

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Dedication

For my favorite sparring partner.

Chapter 1

“No freaking way. I told you I’m not interested in being a ring girl.” Ally pulled her gloves off and let her hands breathe, tossing her head so that a sweat-dampened lock of dark hair was removed from her eye. Her hair never stayed put in a ponytail for more than two minutes, and she’d just finished a five minute round.

“C’mon,” Cameron said, leaning on the ring’s ropes. “Stacey was going to do it, but she’s sick. Fridays are our biggest nights – you know that. Just one night. Please.”

“No.” Ally shot a not-this-again look across the ring at Melissa, her sparring partner.

Melissa raised one gracefully-arched brow and shrugged, as if to say
that’s Cameron for you
.

“I’ll pay you,” Cameron said, gripping the ropes and peering up at Ally, locking her in eye contact. “Double the normal ring girl rate.”

“Double nothing is still nothing.” Ally shook her head, resolving to pay attention to the background noise instead of Cameron’s pleading. The steady
whap whap
of bags being hit was almost rhythmic, but not enough to drown out his voice.

“It’s not nothing,” he said indignantly. “It’s generous for a few minutes of easy work. And you get free admission for that night’s fights.”

“I already get free admission into
all
fights – it’s a membership perk, remember?” Ally narrowed her eyes, hoping her sweaty face and head full of crazy, damp waves would help her to look intimidating instead of just sloppy. “Ask someone else. Put an ad in the paper or something. You’ll probably get responses from some college girls who’d get some sort of thrill out of parading around in a bikini in front of a crowd.” Maybe she was being a little harsh, but she was too short on breath to be anything but blunt.

“College girls are flaky,” Cameron said, frowning, “and too picky. They see this place from the outside and they think it looks like a dump. They never give it a chance. Besides, there’s no time. Friday’s only two days away.” He glanced from side to side, then donned a grin, as if a light bulb had just gone off above his head. “Make you a deal – you help me out and I’ll give you some free one-on-one training sessions. We can start now – I’ll help you get ready for Saturday.”

“Look,” Ally said, climbing out of the ring and settling her bare feet on the cold concrete floor, “the answer is no. Stop hassling me or I’ll find another gym to train at.”

That was an empty threat and Cameron knew it. His gym was near her house – a major plus considering the fact that she didn’t have a car – and she had friends here. Even Cameron wasn’t bad, normally. She admired his business sense and his persistence – just not when he refused to take no for an answer from
her
.

Luckily, she could be just as stubborn.

Cameron frowned, his lower lip jutting out. “You wouldn’t leave Knockout! You’ve been here for over two years.”

Fighting the snort of laughter that threatened to escape at the sight of his pout was harder than fighting Melissa had been, and that was saying something. There was just something bizarre about seeing a former middleweight boxing champion-turned-MMA-entrepreneur stick out his lip like a disappointed seven year old.

“Fine,” Cameron said. “Fine. What about you, Mel?”

Melissa shook her head, crossing her arms over a perfectly svelte figure that any red-blooded male would’ve loved to see in one of the skimpy bikinis Cameron required his ring girls to wear. “You know I work Friday nights.”

Cameron threw his hands up into the air, raising thick arms that evidenced the time he spent working the bags in his own gym. “Fine. If either of you two know a cute girl who’d like to make a few bucks, give her my number.” He turned on his heel and strode toward his office, shaking his head.

Melissa tossed back her head and laughed. The sound was rich but undeniably feminine, and several heads turned in her direction as the half a dozen or so guys present and training in the gym slowed or stopped altogether to stare.

Melissa acted like she didn’t even notice. “God, he sounded like a creep when he said that, didn’t he?” She stepped down from the ring with her head held high, like a queen descending from her throne.

Ally agreed and indulged in a few moments of laughter that were cut short when she turned around, nearly colliding with someone else.

“Crap.” She breathed an exasperated sigh as she was treated to a point-blank view of a sweaty male chest. “Mel and I are finished with the ring. You could’ve just asked, you know.” He – whoever he was – had sneaked up on her as silently as a cat stalking prey. Or maybe Melissa’s laughter had drowned out the sound of his footsteps. Either way, he clearly didn’t know the meaning of the words personal space.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding at all like he meant it as he remained planted firmly in front of her.

Ally raised her gaze to meet a pair of unfamiliar blue eyes. They were cool, almost icy, but lit with a hint of amusement. A brief glance at the rest of his face revealed a perfectly straight nose and surprisingly full mouth. She ignored those features, refusing to break eye contact as a spark of surprise lit somewhere in her middle. “Are you a member? Because the ring and bags are only for members.”

Every once in a while, some wanna-be MMA fighter would wander into the gym and try to prove his manliness by challenging the  guys who trained there. It was weird, but it had happened before. The fact that he was good-looking didn’t mean he wasn’t an idiot.

“Just joined this morning,” he said, surprising her by extending a hand. “Ryan Moore.”

He more or less seized one of her hands and gripped her fingers before she could move. What he did then was more of a squeeze than a handshake.

“Nice to meet you,” she said in a flat voice, taking a little satisfaction in the knowledge that her hands were still hot and sweaty from her gloves. “You can have the ring now. Who’s your sparring partner?”

“That’d be me.”

Ally looked past Ryan Moore’s shoulder to see Daniel Sanchez, a long-time member of the Knockout MMA Gym, abandoning his bag and stepping toward the newcomer. He flashed Ally a devious grin and a wink.

She smiled. “Good luck, Sanchez.” Withdrawing her hand from Ryan’s grip, she stepped aside, taking up a post at Melissa’s side, near one corner of the ring.

“I think you’ve got an admirer,” Melissa said, tipping her head to speak into Ally’s ear as the two men climbed into the ring.

Ally rolled her eyes. “He’s probably one of your fans.” Melissa was built like a supermodel with a weight-lifting hobby. Slender but noticeably toned, her long limbs gave her a height advantage of several inches over Ally and accounted for her incredible reach. Her figure combined with her long ebony curls and smooth cocoa-colored skin made her one of those women who attracted men without even trying, and Ryan Moore wouldn’t be the first gym rat to crush on her.

In comparison, Ally was shorter and definitely curvier, her skin a significantly-lighter caramel tone. She and Melissa didn’t look alike, but they thought so alike that they’d become best friends after meeting at Knockout two years ago.

“I don’t know,” Melissa said as the men faced each other in the ring, “he was looking at you like he wanted to eat you up.”

Ally’s stomach did a funny little flip-flop maneuver. Her reply was lost as Sanchez and Moore assumed their positions and an almost tangible air of interest settled over the gym. The
whap whap
noise of fighters working bags stopped abruptly as every head in the building turned toward the ring.

Everyone wanted to see what the new guy was made of, and Ally was no exception. Not that she expected much. Lots of guys came and went. Some paid the first month’s membership dues, signed the required waiver and then left for good when they got their butts kicked on the first day.

Ryan Moore would probably be one of those guys. He was tall, cut and broad across the shoulders – surprisingly broad – but that didn’t mean he knew how to fight, or even how to tell a hook from a jab. It was amazing how many guys watched a few rounds of MMA fighting on TV and then thought they were ready to take on the world. And then there were the self-proclaimed street-fighting champions who were usually just guys who’d gotten into a few bar fights and were just as bad if not worse.

“Who are you betting on?” Melissa half-whispered in Ally’s ear.

“Are you kidding?” Ally kept her voice low.

Melissa shrugged. “The new guy looks like he’s in pretty good shape, and he’s not standing there flat-footed like most of those guys who walk in here after watching MMA on TV do. He might know what he’s doing.”

Ally hadn’t even looked at his feet – not really. She’d been too busy staring at the flamboyant design that stretched from his shoulders to his hips, an intricate blanket of ink that took up his entire back. It wasn’t the usual obligatory skull or tribal armband tattoo that so many of those sports channel-addicted tough guys had, but it rubbed her the wrong way nonetheless. Maybe because she’d spent too much time staring at it and hadn’t noticed the obvious fact that Melissa had just pointed out. “I guess we’ll see.”

Ryan Moore did know how to move – that much was evident as soon as someone signaled the beginning of the match and he was forced immediately to bob, avoiding a jab that Sanchez aimed at his face. Half a moment later, he shifted to the right and landed a hook against Sanchez’ ear. The muffled sound of impact resounded throughout the unusually quiet gym.