Shadowboxer (28 page)

“No, I didn’t. Trust me.”

“You guys are sick,” Carly called.

“R
ephrasing my question.” Hoping her sister was occupied mixing or stirring or pureeing, I rubbed Mia’s ass, enjoying the way it filled my palms. “When are you done tonight?”

“Four. Then I have three hours at the gym.” She unscrewed the top of the jar and a minty scent filled the air.

“Perfect. Let’s go out.”

She blinked at me. “
Excuse me?”

“Tonight. Let’s go out.”

“On an actual date?” More blinking.

I snagged Mia’s apron, tugging her closer. “Well, as much as I love staying in, we’ve never gone on a date.” I nuzzled her jaw as she dredged her fingers through the pale-colored salve in the jar. “You know, dinner. A movie. Lots of making out in the back row.”

“Ugh. Gross.” Carly felt the need to weigh in yet again.

Mia motioned for me to move back with a wiggle of her coated fingers. “Dinner where?”

“Angotti’s?” I suggested. “Best Italian in the borough.”

“Mine’s better. You’ve never had my Bolognese sauce—”

“Carly Ann?” Mia said sweetly.

“Yes?”

“Please butt out.” Mia smeared some of the stuff on my chest. It warmed my skin, but not unpleasantly. “Sandra Bullock?”

Now it was my turn to blink. “Huh?”

“There’s a new Sandra Bullock movie—” She broke off and flushed at my horrified expression. “Never mind. We can go see Turbo Thrust Three.”

“Is that a porn flick?”

By now ignoring Carly was the standard drill. “I can deal with Sandra Bullock,” I muttered, grateful that Slater wasn’t around to hear me turn in my man card.

“Really? Are you sure?” Mia slathered on more goop and swirled her fingers in a fast motion that created m
ore warmth elsewhere. “We don’t have to see that one. I’m okay with the car movie.”

“Car porn.” Carly snorted.

“Angotti’s and Sandra sounds good.” I leaned forward and closed my mouth over hers. Her hands kept moving even while we kissed.

Multitasking made me hot.

Eventually she pulled back, right about when Carly’s distress noises reached critical mass. “I gotta get back to my veggies.”

“Veggies are alr
eady chopped, Ame,” Carly replied. “No thanks to you.”

“Your duty with me is done. Thanks, baby.” I lowered my voice. “I’ll remember to actually
bring
the condoms tonight.” Then I slapped her ass, making her squeal. And grin.

That grin could carry me for days. Maybe weeks. Though I was glad I wouldn’t have to wait that long to see it again.

Two hours later, I strolled into The Cage—minus my shitty eye patch—for the first time in over a week. I couldn’t say I’d missed it.

Joe met me near the entrance. “Hey man. How you doing?”

“Not too bad.” We fist bumped and talked about the usual stuff until Slater appeared, fifteen minutes after I’d asked him to arrive. He wasn’t a morning person, proven by the way he was knuckling his eyes like a cranky five-year-old.

“Is he here?” he asked without preamble.

I smiled at Joe. “My source says he’s in the weight room. Must be our lucky day.”

“What are you boys planning on?” Joe asked, his interest obvious.

“Not boys. Just me. Slater’s here to keep Timmins busy. I don’t need backup.” I clapped Joe on the shoulder and headed toward my target.

Stares followed me, heavier than any weight bar. None of the guys quite knew how to approach me now. I’d never been a loser in their eyes before.

They’d be even more confused about how to approach me once I made my announcement. I’d had a lot of time to think while I’d been laid up. As the days passed, the need for vengeance had passed. Costas had beat me, but all things considered, things were looking up. I didn’t need to prove anything to myself by kicking his ass.

I’d prove a lot more by actually manning up enough to walk.

Costas was doing crunches when I entered the weight room. A couple of guys were doing pull-ups on the opposite side of the room. Otherwise, we had the place to ourselves.

I crouched at Costas’
side and gave him a wide smile. “Hey there. Nice to see you.”

He faltered for an instant before returning to his reps with even more vigor. Posturing was the name of the game. “Not so nice to see you. You’ve looked better, my man.”

“Yeah, well, shit happens. Mine can be fixed with surgery. Yours…well, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”

“What do you want?”

“Now, see, that’s not the way to talk to a fellow competitor. How long have  you been training here?” I knew exactly how long. He’d strutted into The Cage less than three months ago. Word was he’d run into some trouble at his last gym in the Bronx. He seemed to have a talent for getting into fights.

A talent or a predilection. I never took anything at face value. For all I knew, maybe Costas wanted to be known as a troublemaker. We all had our own reasons.

Costas popped to his feet, bouncing back and forth on his shiny sneakers. “Listen, I don’t have time for games. I’m here to train and win. So were you once. Maybe you should consider if your payday is worth the cost.” He pointed at my eye. “Looks pretty fuckin’ painful, dude.”

Back to the payday crap again. Those rumors had dogged me for months. Some guys had decided I’d won so much because I had the right people in my pocket, and those people must be paying my competitors to lose. Then they’d begun speculating how long it would be before they put their money on another fighter and I’d start taking a dive instead.

A drug dealer from the east side had done me the favor of sketching out a potential earn out schedule, the one I thought I’d left in my jacket the day before I’d given it to Mia. It meant a guaranteed payday—no worries about losing, since that would become my goal—and I’d face less risk of getting hurt because I’d be bowing out in the first or second round.

Like…oh, what had happened last Friday night.

I scraped my hand over my scalp. “Out of curiosity, how many dumbass motherfuckers do you know who get knocked out cold to throw a fight?”

Costas stared at me, obviously weighing his words. “Just because I changed up the game plan on you doesn’t change yours. You expected to get a green fighter you could easily goad into getting you to tap out after some grappling. You claim you had an off night and you walk away with a fatter wallet. Me, I have to deal with the whispers that I’m a chump who can’t win on his own.”

“You jabbed my eye multiple times in the first round. You know that shit’s not allowed.”

He shrugged. “If you can play dirty, so can I.”

“Oh, and as for a fatter wallet, you do realize how many small time players we have betting on these fights, right? Or is your green dick taking too much of the blood supply to your brain?”

Costas’s eyes flashed
, and he eliminated most of the space between us. If he expected me to be scared, he’d soon realize the error of his ways. Just because I’d been a mess when I walked into the ring the other night didn’t mean I wouldn’t get my own back, busted eye and all.

I had something to fight for now.

“Yeah, and we also have plenty of big time ones. People love promoting winners and making kings out of nobodies.”  He jabbed a finger in my chest, officially kicking me over the line from merely annoyed to fucking pissed. “For all I know they got a package deal with you and your little piece of ass. Are you working in tandem to discredit real fighters now?”

I shoved him back against the wall, throwing an arm bar across his throat he couldn’t have dislodged on his best day. “You say whatever you want about me. Tell everyone you want that you think I’m a shady motherfucker who’s become too much of a pussy to risk his pretty face on a real bout and takes the sure money instead. But don’t you dare say a fucking word about her or it’ll be the last thing you ever say. Count on it.”

Costas hissed out a breath and cut a glance behind me. “Big fucking talker when you have your buddies behind you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Slater, Joe
, and Emerson crossing the gym. They didn’t look real friendly either.

“I don’t need backup,” I said, loud enough for them to hear. “Do I look like I need fucking backup?”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got it, Fox. Punk ass bitches who come in off the street and try to take over need to be put in their place.”

Emerson. What the hell? He’d only been training with us for a few weeks, and he’d never been anythin
g but mild-mannered and polite. The rumor mill had been spinning overtime lately that he and one of the other fighters had something going. Ever since that talk had started, he’d been lying low. I didn’t care either way. A fighter was a fighter, and a friend was a friend. But as much as I liked the kid, I never would’ve guessed he would have my back.

Costas sneered. “You know who’s a punk ass bitch? That woman of yours. Came in here to bother me when I was minding my own business.” He shifted so that he could speak more clearly, but he wasn’t getting free until I decided to let him. “You should be happy I agreed to fight her. No one else would’ve. I’m actually giving her cred.”

“You’re giving her nothing, because she’s going to take out your ass while you’re too busy kissing it.” He gasped out a laugh and I tightened the pressure until his eyes bulged.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew he could kick out at me anytime, but he knew what kind of shit that would bring down
on his head from my guys and me. Though I hadn’t planned on their presence, I couldn’t say I minded having help if necessary. Costas was a wiry, tough bastard and he’d shown he didn’t care about playing by the rules.

Funny how he was the first one to cry foul about them being broken.

“Think I’m lying? Watch her take you down. And I swear to God, if you claim it was anything but fair and square, you’ll answer to me.” I pushed up on his chin until we were eye-to-eye. “Oh, and about that? If she even breaks a nail because you pull BS with her like you did with me the other night—the eye gouges and groin jabs—you’ll discover I’m much less tolerant when it comes to her safety. Remember that, fucker.” I banged his head against the wall and started to lower my arm, fully intending to let him go. He’d gotten the point.

Then again, maybe he hadn’t.

“What about her sister?” His smile gleamed with malice. “Such a pretty girl. So willing to give herself up to the cause—”

I was on him again so fast that he didn’t even have a chance to block the hit coming toward his jaw. It snapped back his head, but it didn’t stop
the venom shooting from his blue-black eyes. “Stay away from Carly,” I snarled.

He rubbed his jaw, his lips twisting into a smirk despite the pain I knew he had to be in. My hand hurt like a bitch. “She gave herself to me
fair and square
,” he said, mimicking me. “Surely you don’t intend for your little sweet thang to renege on her deal? That wouldn’t be very sportsmanlike.”

As tempted as I was to hit him again—and boy, was I tempted—I had a date tonight. An actual date with a woman I hadn’t believed would ever go out with me. Or ever let me hold her as she slept, as she had last night.
That
was what mattered. Not this asshole. But I’d drive the message home one more time, just in case.

I flexed my sore knuckles, examining them. “You ever have someone you love, Costas?”

“Yeah, I’ve loved somebody.” He spat the words as if they were poison.

“Well, see, you’ve got a leg up on me. Because I’m not sure I ever did, not like this. So if you harm my woman or her sister, you’re going to force me to do something I might regret when I’m thinking straight.” I smiled. “Then again, I might not.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“With pleasure. Nice chatting with you.” Deliberately, I turned my back and sauntered away.

Slater lifted a brow as I approached. “Another injury?”

“Flesh wound, baby.” I flashed him a grin and patted him on the shoulder. I appreciated that he’d rounded up the troops to make sure my ailing ass was covered.

“Knox,” Timmins barked from the doorway. “In my office. Now.”

A few weeks ago, that voice would’ve inspired a healthy dose of nerves. Not now. “Sorry, Coach, I have somewhere to be.”

I had an appointment for a walkthrough at NYU to see if we’d be a good fit. I needed to make sure most of the coursework could be completed online, in case I ended up moving out of the area.

In case someone split town and asked me to go with her.

“Yes, and that’s in my office. No fighter of mine brings trouble to this gym.”

“Thanks for bringing that up.” My smile returned,
unbidden. The weight was already dropping from my shoulders. “I’m done fighting—for you or anyone else. Effective immediately.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mia

Saturday was officially the slowest day of my life.

I’d never had a date night before, at least when I was an adult. That was pretty sad to admit, but it made me feel a little better about why I couldn’t concentrate at work. I fixed drinks and talked to customers without being aware of any of it, my thoughts totally centered on Tray.

Completely pathetic.

As soon as I finished at Vinnie’s, I walked to the gym. On the way there, I did something even more unusual than daydreaming all day. I window-shopped by choice. I stared up at the pretty dresses in shop windows and imagined myself wearing them. Maybe even dancing. Then I imagined Tray taking them off me…

Before I knew what I was doing, I’d wandered into Taylor’s and headed straight back to the lingerie section. So much pink and red surrounded me that my eyes bled.

“It’s almost Valentine’s Day.” The impossibly polished blonde saleswoman checked me out, taking in my ratty backpack, Tray’s ginormous battered leather jacket, and my threadbare Vinnie’s shirt. She lowered her voice in obvious defeat, her enthusiasm for the sale gone. “Get something for the man in your life. He’ll love it?” I assumed the question at the end of her statement had to do with the possibility I actually
had
a man.

“That’s why I’m here. Not for Valentine’s Day. For tonight.” Vamping up my role to the hilt, I twirled my hair and surveyed the selection in front of me. It all bordered on obscene, but I supposed that was the point. “Do you have a rack o
f size six?”

The saleswoman pursed her lips. “Ma’am, anything on this wall is available in our full range of sizes.”

Right. I knew that. I shopped for lingerie all the time. I definitely didn’t buy my sturdy white cotton bras in three-packs at the drugstore.

“Oh, okay. I’ll just…look around then. Thanks.” She’d already walked off before I finished speaking.

I blew out a breath and walked toward a rack of teddies. At least that’s what I think they were called. Some of them had garter belts and seemed to be missing fabric beneath the waist.

God, what was I supposed to buy? What would he like?

I whipped out my phone and texted my sister.

Help
.
Need slutty underwear
.
Which one
?

I took a couple pictures of the stuff that surrounded me and sent them, then began gnawing off my thumbnail. Luckily she didn’t make me wait long.

Yellow teddy with garters
.
Extra padding up top
.
You go girl
!

The last part made me grin, the rest didn’t.
Which
yellow teddy? And yeah, extra padding was a no-brainer. If they sold one with a hand-pump, I’d be all over it

I sorted through the rack of teddies and selected a yellow one near the front that might’ve caught her eye. It was a nice choice for my hair color. I was about to look for my size when I saw the price tag.

Holy fucknuts, I was not paying
that
.

Trying not to panic, I glanced around. Did they have a clea
rance rack in this joint? No way was I dropping hundreds of dollars on a couple strings I’d only wear for a few minutes.

The memory burst into my mind with the suddenness of a camera flash.

“Go ahead, look around.” He gestured, the too sweet smell of cherry cigar smoke turning my stomach. “Anything you want, it’s yours. Price is no object.” Then hands on my breasts, squeezing. Shifting so no else could see while he fondled me, right in plain sight. “So small and pretty. I can’t wait to see them in lace. Get the yellow. It’s a good color for you.”

“Ma’am? Are you all right?”

I looked up at the same perky salesgirl, shocked to realize I was on my knees. Glancing down, I saw the fabric knotted in my fists. I’d pulled something from the rack in front of me. Animal print panties or something. I didn’t care what it was, I just needed to leave. To make her stop staring at me like I was crazy.

“Yes. I’m fine.” I wasn’t gasping. Not really. “I just tripped on the rug. I’ll take this.” I shoved the animal print whatever at her and stumbled to my feet, swallowing the rise of nausea. “Please, just ring me out now.”

“Of course. Will this be cash or charge?”

My mind wheeled. All I had was my share of the day’s tips, which hadn’t been that great. I might have enough to pay for whatever I’d chosen, but maybe not. I didn’t have a charge card. My breath backed up in my throat as she started to ring me up and I glanced around, my gaze landing gratefully on a sign advertising the store card.

“Can I get a card here?” All of a sudden it felt vitally important to me to walk out of there with lingerie I’d purchased on my own. Even if I didn’t like it. Even if it didn’t fit.

That bastard wasn’t taking anything else from me.

“Sure. Fill out this form.” She pushed a clipboard at me.

Ten minutes later, I walked out with a tiny little red and white bag
in one hand and my new temporary charge card tucked in my wallet. I now had a bill that would be sent to an address I might not live at in a month. And I was late for the gym.

Kizzy was waiting for me outside the locker room. She didn’t look pleased. Her cheeks had reddened to the tomato color of her T-shirt, which said
if I wanted shit, I would’ve squeezed your head
.

I was pretty sure Kizzy didn’t own any lemon yellow teddies—or animal print anything, for that matter. She was more likely to push down her pants and fuck against the nearest door. As she’d told me way too many times.

“Where the hell have you been?”

She glanced down at my Taylor’s bag and back up to my already warming ch
eeks. Now we were both flushed.

“Are you frigging serious?
You’re late for training because you’re off buying little lacy things for Foxy?” She snatched the bag and rooted through it before I could say a word, tugging out the contents with a look of disgust that might’ve been amusing had I not just paid thirty-five dollars for what she held. “Oh my God. He’s a total
freak
.”

She str
etched out my brand new bikini panties between her thumbs. Not only were they animal print, they had the word
juicy
emblazoned on the ass in hot pink. The front was just a panel of see-through black lace.

“Oh my God.” I threw down my backpack and clutched my stomach. “I can’t even.”

“Since when do you wear size eight?”

“I’ve gained some weight,” I muttered, earning a snort.

“Yeah, right. I’m not even a eight and my ass is twice the size of yours.” She shook her head. “Dude, you’re in deep shit. He’s making you wear stuff like this already?”

“No, of course not. He’s not making me wear it. I just wanted to get something…” Horrifically lame that I could never wear in front of him, ever. “Nice.”

She laughed so hard that she started hiccupping. “Oh my God. Take Carly with you next time. This is so bad. So bad.”

I blew out a breath and grabbed my workout clothes out of my bag. “You can stop laughing anytime now.”

“No, I needed this. Really.” She wheezed out another laugh and pounded on her chest. “I was about to lose it when you walked in.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’m late. I didn’t mean to stop.”

She shoved the panties back in the bag and pushed it at me as if it were a dead animal. “That’s not why I was flipping out.”

I folded Tray’s jacket into my backpack as carefully as possible. I didn’t like not being able to hang it up in my locker while I was here, but it just wasn’t safe. “You always get pissed when I’m late.”

“Well, yeah, but this time I was pissed because you weren’t here and I was about to go apeshit.” She grabbed her purple Ked-clad foot and dragged it underneath her on the bench. “There’s a new sheriff in town and he’s a fucking dick.”

I pulled off my
T-shirt and bra and swapped them for my sports bra. Amazing how little modesty I had in the gym when I had so much around Tray. Probably because all the chicks around me had the same equipment and I wasn’t in a hot body contest. With him, I was constantly worried about measuring up to the women in his past. The many,
many
women.

“We don’t have a sheriff in Brooklyn.”

“Jesus, Mia. Sarcasm is your friend. I meant here, at Mark’s. Haven’t you heard the buyout rumors?”

“Obviously not.” I p
ulled on my tank top and exchanged my work capris for shorts. “What’s going on?”

She ranted for
ten minutes about the new owner of the gym, who apparently intended to take a more hands-on approach than the previous one. He’d swept through earlier and demanded to see all the trainers one-by-one, then rattled off a new list of policies. This was all secondhand info, since she hadn’t had her meeting yet. It was scheduled in five minutes.

“He’s tightening the screws, man. I’m not putting up with this. If he yanks my chain too much, I’m out of here.”

I stopped braiding my hair and frowned. “What about me?”

“What about you? You’re three-quarters in the bag anyway. You’ll be gone in a month.”

I didn’t say anything. Technically that was still the plan, but it had lost a lot of its luster. One guess why.

“Won’t you?”
she pressed. “I thought you said your landlord was squawking about raising your rent.”

I resumed braiding my hair.
“Yeah. He is. My building’s not rent-controlled and he says the neighborhood’s gone up in value recently.” I expected the final notice about the raised rate anytime now, which would put it above my means unless Carly got a great job.

“So? You’re
still going, right?” She heaved out a breath. “God, Mia, not you too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I see it all the time. Girls with big ideas and firm plans of their own, throwing them all away just because some penis struts in and changes the landscape.” She dragged her other leg up to her chest and wrapped her arm around it. “That’ll never be me.
Never
.”

“It’s not like that. Besides, my firm plans were only about running away. That’s not healthy.” I bit my lip and forced the rubber band over the end of my braid.

“Who says what’s healthy? Who says what’s running away? You had a goal, and you were determined. Now you scored your big fight and you don’t even care anymore. You’re too busy buying crazy ass undies and getting all melty-eyed and—”

Someone rapped on the door. Once. Twice.

Kizzy stared at me, then bolted to her feet. “Who the hell is it?”

“Sutton Pierce.” Came the sharp reply. “You’re late, Cavanaugh.”

All at once, her face changed. The flush returned, blanketing her fair skin from throat to hairline. She was almost as pale as I was, although she never blushed from embarrassment, just anger.

Shooting me a look that said
told you so
, she marched to the door and yanked it open. I rushed up behind her just in time to get a glimpse of a tall guy in a white dress shirt and shiny dark shoes.

“I’m taking a shit if that’s all right with you, Pierce. The laxatives just kicked in.”

I backed into the shadows, tilting my head to get a look at him above the neck. He had dark hair and scruff and
wow
, what a face. Chiseled. Sexy.

Pissed
.

“Then I’d advise you to finish up fast and get out here, because you’ll be out of a job otherwise.” He had a hint of a British accent. Faint, but definitely there. “I don’t tolerate lateness from my employees. Or rudeness.”

“I’m not your employee. Pax hired me, not you.”

“Pax isn’t here any longer. I suggest you catch up with the times, Cavanaugh. You have two minutes.” He walked away, his shoes clicking sharply on the hardwood floor.

Kizzy shot me a furious look and followed him out, banging the door in her wake. I couldn’t help smiling as I finished up and went out to start my workout. Seeing Kizzy so out of sorts amused the hell out of me. Normally she bossed everyone else around, not vice versa.

I worked through a complete circuit on the treadmill, the elliptical
, and the rowing machine, then spent some time with the punching bag, working on my kicks in particular. I remembered Tray’s admonition to kick from my hips and practiced until my thigh muscles quivered. I was definitely kicking higher up the bag and with more force. Too bad he wasn’t there to see it.

“Moron.” I could only pant the self-directed insult. “You’ll see him in an hour.”

“Maybe less.”

I went still, a smile forming even before I looked around to check out if I’d imagined that deep, sinful voice. I’d been tempted to keep an eye on the door, telling myself I was just waiting for Kizzy, but I’d tal
ked myself out of it. Hot as hell fighters never struck twice.