No Safeword: Matte - Happily Ever After (Safewords) (35 page)

“Why are you recanting so soon after making your statement?”

“Because I love my wife and I want to be supportive of her. She’ll handle herself just fine in the cage, she doesn’t need me to fight her battles for her.”

“Then why did you threaten Jose Clemente?”

“Everyone’s heard her call me a caveman, and it’s a little bit true. I want to protect her, and tear anyone limb from limb who hurts her, but I married a strong, successful woman who rarely needs protecting.”

The reporter started to ask something else but he interrupted. “One more thing — it’s Jose Clemente we should be concerned about once the fight starts. Sam will be fine. He has no idea what he’s in for.”

Ethan turned away from the camera and the video ended.

Sam shook her head and called Ethan.

“You big lug. How the hell am I supposed to stay pissed at you when you go and say such sweet things about me to the rest of the world?”

“Am I out of the doghouse?”

“Like I could ever get your ass in a doghouse. And how are we supposed to make up with your no-sex-until-after-the-fights edict?”

“You could come upstairs and cuddle with me.”

“Or you could come to the training area and spar with me. We might even convince Miguel to leave.”

“Shit, I searched the whole damned place and didn’t think to look in the training area. Of
course
that’s where you went. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be down. You haven’t destroyed any punching bags, have you?”

“Like anyone could hurt one of these super heavy-duty bags.”

Miguel didn’t leave, and Jerrod followed Ethan down. Sam hadn’t intended to get in another full workout, but without an audience they had a very productive couple of hours.

As they were packing up to leave Ethan told their coaches, “Since we worked so hard tonight, you won’t see Sam and I until ten tomorrow morning. We’re going offsite by ourselves to have breakfast together, just the two of us. We’ll be ready to work at ten.”

The group somehow managed to avoid the media again on the way back up, and when Ethan and Sam were finally back in their hotel room he pulled her into his arms and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to undermine you, and I didn’t realize how my words would affect you. I’ll try to do better.”

Sam hugged him back, but didn’t say anything.

He sat on the side of the bed, heavy enough it groaned and creaked. “I screwed up. I’m sorry.”

She stepped between his legs and put her hands on his shoulders. They were practically the same height, and she leaned forward to kiss his nose as he so often did hers. “And you fixed it as best you could. Thanks for having my back.”

They gave each other foot massages in the huge jetted tub, and then snuggled in to go to sleep.

* * * *

Breakfast the next morning was nice, and Sam realized they’d needed the time to reconnect. “Thanks for telling everyone we’d meet up with them after breakfast. We needed this.”

The media found them as they were about to enter the training area, and had a lot of questions for Sam.

“Did you make your husband recant his statement?”

“I didn’t make him do anything. We’re a partnership, neither of us forces the other do anything. I like making him happy, he likes making me happy.”

“But you’re the one who originally called him a caveman, isn’t that because he kissed you longer than you wanted to be kissed?”

Sam laughed. “Okay, he can be a caveman sometimes, but he’s very,
very
good at it, and he’s
my
caveman.” She smiled, paused for effect, and added, “All mine. Now, if you don’t mind, we need to get to the training facility. We both have fights to prepare for.”

As they walked away one of the reporters asked again, “What do you have to say to the people who say you’re only getting a spot in the fights because of who you’re married to.”

She kept walking and didn’t respond. Dave wanted her to talk shit and say they’d have egg on their face once she’d kicked Clemente’s ass — but it wasn’t her style. She preferred to let her actions speak for her.

* * * *

Sam had someone come at her twice when Ethan wasn’t around, fists flying as if they could take her. Both times she put them on the ground and held them until security arrived. The first person to come at her was a man, but the second was a woman, and the media had a field day with pictures of her wresting the woman to the ground, with headlines of
Cat Fight
.

Dave said he needed to protect his investment and keep her from getting beat on before fight night, so he hired a bodyguard.

The security dude followed Sam everywhere except into her hotel suite. She even had to use the family bathrooms, so he could clear it and then guard the door while she was inside alone.

Luckily, she only had to put up with it a day and a half before the fights or she’d have been driven crazy by his presence. He seemed nice enough, but it was creepy.

Ethan gave Sam his version of a pep-talk as she mentally prepared the evening of their fights, and then backed off and gave her space. He stayed close but didn’t hover, and let her coach take the lead.

Tara put Sam’s hair in French braids that wrapped around her head, with nothing dangling to get in her way. They’d practiced beforehand, and she’d trained with them at home a few times to be sure they’d stay put, but she felt so naked without her hair. However, it also made her feel a little more bad-ass, which was a good thing.

She made her long-assed walk to the cage through the crowd with Ethan and Miguel on either side of her, and Jerrod, Tara, Jameson, and her security guy just behind her. She’d done this before, following Ethan, but it was a completely different experience with the cameras focused on
her
as she tried not to look at them.

Ethan took her clothes from her as she stripped to her long bike shorts and sports bra. She heard the announcer say something about her scar, but her mind was focused on the fight and she didn’t care.

She hugged Jerrod and Miguel, and then let Ethan wrap her in his embrace for a handful of heartbeats before she finally turned to the official.

She could tell Ethan didn’t want to let go, but he smiled and told her to go kick ass as he released her.

Once the official checked her into the fight, she had to go straight into the cage with no more hugs allowed.

Sam jogged up the steps and into the cage, and then bounced on her toes and tried to stay loose as the announcer gave his spiel. She’d been in the cage after the fight with Ethan, but standing in the middle of this huge crowd, with their focus entirely on her was more than she’d expected.

She bounced around and tried to ignore the crowd until time to meet Clemente in the middle of the cage for the referee’s final instructions.

Clemente charged her the instant the round started, and she sidestepped him, tripped him, and fell on him. He bucked and tried to throw her off, but she had a good grip and moved him under her until she could strike, and then she pounded his rib cage. He finally managed to push up, and as he tried to grab her she shot up and away before he could gain control of her leg.

He favored his side when he stood, and she smiled, knowing she’d done some damage to his ribs.

He was more cautious this time, and tried to get a few swings in, but she blocked them all and moved in to use her wing-chun, since Clemente was several inches taller.

Sam landed three solid punches to his face, saw an opening, and delivered her rabid-weed-eater combination. She heard Ethan cheering from outside the cage, and then a sharp warning from Miguel, so she backed off before Clemente could pull himself together enough to make a grab.

He controlled her on the ground once, and Sam almost didn’t manage to pull out of it. In fact, if Ethan hadn’t insisted on armbinder training, it’s likely she’d have lost the fight. However, her unexpected flexibility allowed her to bend and move until she could work her way out of it.

She took a good number of solid hits and kicks, but managed to deflect most of his attempts. She gave him more than she took, and thought she was close to knocking him out at the end of the first round and was ticked when the bell sounded.

Miguel and Jameson worked on her as she sat on the stool. Ethan stood behind her, outside the cage, but only told her she was kicking ass, and let Miguel be in charge of strategy.

“He’s going to come out seeing red for round two,” Miguel told her. “Use it; use his anger and his fear. Take him down again. He
hated
having you control him.”

Jerrod stepped behind her. “Miguel is right, but if you can manage it, take him down so you can access his face. Don’t take any risks to make it happen, but I don’t think he needs too many more headshots for a knockout.”

The coaches and staff had to leave, and Sam looked at Ethan through the cage. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now go kick his ass.”

Miguel had been right about Clemente seeing red when he came out, but he hadn’t been right about the man being sloppy. Sam took two solid punches to her face before she maneuvered so she could block them, and barely missed catching a flying foot to the side of her head.

However, she took advantage of the split second he was unbalanced when he landed, and took him down again.

Somehow, she managed to curl her arm around his head enough to hold it in place as she punched, and punched, and kept punching. Her right eye was blurry and she tasted blood, but she didn’t care.

When the ref pulled her off she went without protest, and had to work hard not to stumble. She looked down to see a lot of blood and hoped it wasn’t hers.

Ethan was at her side in seconds, followed by Miguel and Jameson, who sat her down and wiped her face.

“I’m good. I just need some ice.”

Someone slid some ice in her mouth, cold touched her forehead above the eye, and a gel-pack landed on her upper back from behind. The startling cold woke her, and she shook her head. “Okay. Thanks.” She looked back to Jameson. “My eye is swelling shut, isn’t it?”

“Yep, but no matter, ‘cause you won!”

Sam stood and paced a few times, and Ethan put his mouth to her ear. “Make sure you’re up to talking to the media before you step away from us. Get your head on straight, okay?”

Sam nodded, took her t-shirt from Ethan and put it on, and reached for the water bottle Jerrod was holding. “I’m good, guys. Thanks.”

She walked to the other side of the cage to check on Clemente, who was still on the ground with people around him. She noted most of the blood appeared to be his, and smiled in satisfaction.

They finally stood him up, looking woozy and not quite with it, and someone propped him up long enough for the announcer to declare Sam the winner. She went to her opponent to tell him it was a good fight and check on him, but he brushed her off with, “Fucking cunt,” before turning and almost falling down again.

A reporter stuck a mic in her face and said, “People didn’t think you’d be able to take a full punch from a man, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” she said with what she hoped was a friendly smile. “Thanks for asking. I believe I took more than one strike, and I’m still standing.”

“Now that you’ve fought someone in the men’s division, will you be happy in the women’s division?”

“I honestly don’t know what’s next for me. One of my goals, the way I’d know I’d come back from being shot, was to fight another major fight. I’ve accomplished my goal, and now I’ll have to figure out what comes next. I know there are people who want to see me fight the top women, to see how I fare against them after fighting Clemente, but I don’t have any answers for you.”

“Do you think women should be allowed to fight in the men’s division?”

“You know, I’m not sure I want to wade into that debate. At least not today.”

“Will you feel guilty if your husband loses his fight because he’s been out here helping with yours?”

“Unless we have a whole lot of super-short fights, my caveman will have plenty of time to prepare. We sat down with both coaches and planned it out, to be sure neither of us were compromising our own fights in order to help the other. He’ll be fine.”

She felt Ethan’s hand on her shoulder and the reporter moved the mic up so he could speak. “My wife kicked ass, as I knew she would. Now it’s my turn, and ya’ll seriously need to stop trying to put us at odds with each other.”

“Would you support her, if she chooses to fight in the men’s division again? Is there really room for two superstars in the same family?”

Sam laughed. “I’m not a superstar.”

Ethan wrapped his arm around her and squeezed as he looked down at her. “Yeah, you are.” He looked to the reporter. “She’s worked hard for this and deserves to have her own spotlight without me in it. I’m going to back away now and ask that you focus on her when you ask questions. But, if she wants to fight in the men’s division again, I’ll support her any way I can.”

He backed away and the reporter asked more questions until Dave stepped in and brought the interview to a smooth end.

They put Sam in a reclining lounge chair as soon as they got her backstage, and put gel packs on her face.

“You’re going to have a nice shiner when you go back out with Ethan,” Jameson told her.

“Get the swelling down and I have makeup to cover the bruising. Am I cut? I couldn’t tell if it was blood or sweat stinging my eye.”

“The cut isn’t too bad, just enough for a trickle,” Miguel said. “Lie back and close your eyes and let Jameson work on you.”

“Girl, I am so proud of you,” said Tara, “but you’re right, we’re going to have to work on that face before you go back out.”

Sam laughed at Tara, and reached her hand out. Tara held it, and sat on the edge of the chair and talked while Jameson worked on Sam’s eye.

When he finished with her face he started at her feet and examined every toe, and worked his way up her body to be sure there were no injuries Sam’s endorphins were covering.

She sent a text to the group she’d set up, letting them know she was backstage and happy and doing fine, and then called her parents.

Her dad answered the phone with, “Well, now I have ultimate bragging rights at work tomorrow. My daughter kicked ass, and my son-in-law will soon enough. I am
so
proud of you, Sam.”

Relieved her dad picked up and not her mom, she said, “Thanks, dad. I just called to let ya’ll know I’m okay. A little bruised and banged, but nothing serious.”

“Thanks for the call. I know your mom will be relieved.”

When she hung up, Jameson said, “I haven’t finished examining you yet. You don’t know that you’re okay.”

“Yeah, I do. I know you think I wouldn’t know because of the endorphins, but…well, just trust me. I’d know.”

He grunted and continued his exam, and Sam relaxed and let him.

When he finished he said, “You’re in good shape, considering. Bruised ribs, your right hand is scuffed up pretty good, and we’ll need to keep watch on your eye, but I think you’ll wake up tomorrow without feeling too much worse than you do after one of Miguel and Jerrod’s hell days.” He looked to Tara and said, “I’m heading into the next room with the big guy. Let me know if there’s a change, otherwise she’s all yours.”

As he left the room Tara asked, “How do you feel, Bruiser?”

Sam ignored the nickname and answered “Floaty. The adrenaline and endorphins are still raging. My face hurts, and I imagine that’ll only get worse. Will you really help with my makeup before Ethan’s fight?”

“You better believe it. We can’t have you going out there looking like you just got the shit beat out of you. We want you to look fresh as a daisy.”

Sam laughed and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Can I have my headphones, please? I need to get grounded so I can help Ethan.”

She’d carefully picked her playlist, designed to put her into a light form of meditation and then draw her out of it until she was ready to get up and move and be sociable again.

When the music ended, she felt rested. She removed the gel packs and sat up. The others were sitting in the outer room, talking quietly, so she moved to her dressing area and sat to have a look at her face in the mirror.

It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, but she looked rough.

She used a brush to apply yellow concealer over the bruised areas, and then a sponge to apply her foundation. Another brush came out to blend and smooth, and then she started in on her eyeshadow.

Tara came in as she was starting her eyeliner. “I wanted to see you before you started the makeup, but you’ve done a good job.” She sat and gave Sam a critical eye in the mirror. “I’m not sure I could’ve done better. Great job with the shadowing to help camouflage the swelling.”

“Can you help with my hair? I’d like to wear it down, but it might be better to just leave it in the French braid. No telling how it’ll look.”

“Not a problem.” Tara went to work pulling the braids out, careful not to hurt her. When she’d released about a third of Sam’s hair she went in search of the flat iron and plugged it in before freeing the rest.

Sam waited until she looked presentable before going into Ethan’s area. He needed to see her strong and healthy so he could focus on his own fight.

When Sam stepped into his room his face was hard and he was focused. Her cheeks flamed hot as she realized this look set her insides on fire. Damn, she wanted him when he looked like this. Of course, she knew he’d never
really
hurt her, while his opponent wasn’t afforded the same luxury.

She gave him a short pep-talk before she followed him out for his walk to the cage, and felt her adrenaline kick in again as they neared the center of the arena.

Ethan hugged her last before turning himself over to the officials, and bent her backwards for another of his caveman kisses. The crowd went wild, but she didn’t cut it short, and only smiled at him as he let her up and turned to the officials.

Sam thought the two men evenly matched for about the first twenty seconds. Right up until Ethan swept the man’s feet into the air, rode his body to the ground, secured him so he couldn’t escape, and pounded his face bloody before the referee could step in and stop the fight.