The Fighter Duet: Two Full-Length, Red-Hot New Adult Fighter Romances (28 page)

H
e’s strangling me
…

The pressure on my neck grows stronger, and I’m pinned against the man’s chest. His arm is an iron band around my waist holding me trapped against his doughy body.

Harder…

The sour stench of his perspiration fills my nostrils, and I start to choke. Adrenaline spikes in my veins, my eyes heat, my nose runs. I’m going to shift.

Fight it…

He would never see it coming. I’d rip his arms out of their sockets, and the pain would saturate his brain before his eyes even registered what happened.

Focus, Mercy
.

I can’t blow my cover. As far as the humans in Woodland Creek know, I’m just as normal as they are. My shifter clan is deep undercover, and we have to keep it that way.

Scenting the air, I can tell he’s nervous. He lacks the conviction of what he’s doing. Closing my eyes and calming my thoughts, I use the crude human movements I’ve mastered—grasp his wrist and jerk it down.

Thrusting my elbow sharply back and up, I plant a solid hit to his solar plexus. At the same time I do a quick twirl under, positioning myself in front, facing him, still holding his wrist. It’s a perfectly choreographed escape move, and I execute it with ease.

A muffled grunt, and the man pitches forward at the waist gasping for air. I hold his neck and pretend to jam my knee into his nose to break it. But I stop before making contact.

“And that is how you escape an attack from behind.” I release Jim’s wrist and turn to the small audience now clapping.

A low murmur ripples across the group of mostly college-aged girls, and my assistant circulates a clipboard holding the signup sheet for Saturday’s class.

Smiling, I turn back to my demonstration partner. “You okay?” I grasp Jim’s shoulder, giving it a brief massage.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it, Mercy,” he grunts.

It’s true he’s experienced playing the role of my attacker, and while I might have winded him slightly with that elbow to the ribs, he doesn’t show any signs of discomfort now. Jim’s a big, fleshy guy, perfect for our demonstrations.

I adjust my black sports bra and smooth the waist of my black yoga pants as the clipboard continues through the small group of young women.

“Classes are every Saturday starting at nine a.m. sharp. Your life is important and so is my time.” My voice resonates with authority the way Andy taught me. “All payments are in advance, and there are no refunds for missed classes.”

I’ve just put on a show of being a badass, and the young women watch me, eyes round. When I first started this job, it used to make my insides squirm knowing I’m the same age as them or occasionally a little younger. I’m the baby of my shifter family, and not used to ordering people around, which doesn’t mean I’m a pushover. It just means I’m used to minding my own business and letting others mind theirs.

“You have to command your class,” Andy had said. In time it became easier to play drill sergeant.

Andy taught me the self-defense moves I now teach them. I hadn’t really needed to learn them, since as previously noted, I’m a shifter and stronger than any human man. Still, I suppose they’re good techniques to know.

I started hanging around the gym a few years ago during a particularly harsh winter. I tried teaching myself to kickbox, trying to burn off my excess shifter-energy. I’d spent some time punching and kicking with zero form or technique. After a while, Andy asked if I’d like to take over the self-defense courses at the gym.

I like to think it gives me a purpose, something I can do to help these human girls. The truth is, I’m bored. I want to leave this god-forsaken town so badly it hurts. I want to move to California where it’s always sunny and never snows, where I can get a small studio and a pottery wheel, and launch my career as a ceramics artist.

“Miss Mercy?” A timid blonde pulls me from my dreams.

I smile. “You can just call me Mercy.”

“Okay… Um…” Her eyes drop nervously to the mat. “I’m Sally. I’m not sure if I should sign up or not. I’m not very strong.”

I scan her body. She’s an inch shorter than I am, skinny, and her arms show zero muscle mass—unlike mine, which are lined and tight like my exposed torso.

“Strength isn’t as much a part of self-defense as technique,” I say, repeating the response Andy taught me. “It’s about surprise and evasion. Running away is as much a part of self defense as avoiding dangerous situations.”

She still looks worried, and I add, “If you want, I can work with you before or after classes on strength training.”

I’m not sure what made me say that. I’ve never offered to train anyone before.

Her pale brow relaxes, and she even smiles. “Would you? That would help me so much.”

I’m about to set up a time when the bell above the front door rings out, and a man in a suit, no tie, top button undone saunters in the gym. He’s clearly not dressed to stay.

“Dude, your boyfriend’s here,” Jim says under his breath.

Irritation flashes hot in my cheeks. “He’s not my boyfriend, and you need to wash your gym clothes. You stink.”

I instantly regret being irritable with Jim, but Hayden Cross has been the bane of my existence for the last two years, since I turned twenty-one, with his entitled attitude and knack for showing up when I don’t want to see him, which is pretty much always.

Going to the door, I ignore the appreciative rise of his pale eyebrows at the sight of my body. “What are you doing here, Hayden?”

“Your sister sent me to fetch you. She’s concerned you’ll be late for dinner tonight.”

Anger tightens my throat. “I’ve never been late for Thursday night dinner before. I don’t need your help now.”

He smiles that annoyingly sexy grin. “Either way, I don’t mind giving you a ride home. Save you from that germy tin can.”

My family (and Hayden) complain often and loudly about my use of the one city bus to get around our small town, but I don’t give a shit. I’m preparing for my life in San Francisco, when I won’t be a member of the town elite. I’ll be just like everybody else.

“Sam will worry if I don’t show up for my ride home.”

His perfect lips curl in a sneer. “And Sam would be?”

“The bus driver, of course.”

“Get your things.” His teasing manner is gone, which makes me grin. “I told Dylan I’d see you home.”

“I guess I can explain it to him tomorrow,” I sigh.

Infuriating Hayden might be the highlight of my day. I walk to the back of the large, front room. A narrow hall leads past the offices, the juice bar, and the entrances to the locker rooms, ending at the large weight room in the back. My boss is there working with a new client.

“I’m taking off, Andy!” I call. “Looks like we got a full class on Saturday.”

He gives me a brief nod between spotting the man lying back on the push-up bench. I head to the locker room to grab my bag, rolling my eyes as I go. God knows I can’t be late for Thursday night dinners at the mansion.

* * *

Running. Pushing. Harder. Faster. Run until the pain is only a distant memory.

Stretching out in my full panther form, I revel in the healing sensation of heat surging through my muscles as my powerful strides consume the miles.

I shouldn’t have gone back to Princeton. I should have left the past in the past. Still, I had to see what he was doing now, the ice-blue-eyed wolf whose life had ended the same night as mine.

Slayer had been my best friend back in those days. We were two shits in a pod, strutting around like we owned the city. Because we did.

Designers gave us clothes for free. Hotels gave us rooms for free, and the chicks fell back on the beds with their legs wide open, panties long gone. Everybody wanted a piece of us. They all wanted us to say we liked their shit or we stayed at their place or we wore their watches.

We were champion middleweight boxers and the only shifters. Of course, that part of the equation was not on the books. Until the night it all ended. The night our world came crashing down. Seven years later, I’m hoping to pick up the pieces.

“You look good,” Slayer had said when I entered the fancy-assed office where he now worked. “Keeping in shape.”

As if shifters have a choice. “It was a long time to do nothing.”

His wolf-eyes narrow, and I can’t resist a verbal jab. “So you’ve joined the dark side?”

“I’m a private investigator.”

Glancing around the mahogany office with its straight lines and stainless accents, I simply nod. “Pretty fancy for a private dick.”

“My boss is an important guy.”

“Right.” Clearing my throat, I say his name. “Derek Alexander.”

It’s a name as bitter on my tongue as wolfsbane, and I can’t get over the sight of my old friend working in that man’s office.

“Mr. Alexander” had made a reputation for himself in both human and paranormal justice. I’ll never forget the day he stood in the front of the panther council and had me cut off from my clan. He’d presented the evidence that left me a rogue—no family, no money, no hope for a mate.

“Is this some kind of… community service gig or something?” To say Slayer and I had diverged would be putting it mildly if he now worked for that guy voluntarily.

“What happened to us was our own fault. Derek gave me a second chance here.”

The framed picture on his desk fills in the rest of the blanks. A beautiful young woman with blue eyes and purple hair smiles back at me. On her lap is a tow-headed little boy with dimples in his cheeks.

“Well… I’m happy for you,” I lie. “Anyway, I’m taking off, headed home. Just stopped in to say goodbye.”

He leans forward in his chair and stands, rounding the desk to shake my hand. I notice he’s dressed in dark jeans and a black tee, and the old tattoos show down his arms. I guess not everything has changed.

“Take care of yourself, Stitch.”

“I go by Koa now.”

He nods as we shake, casting his eyes down to our hands. “I went to Bayville thinking I’d disappear. Instead I found everything I’d lost.”

I’m not sure what to do with that, so I simply nod, releasing his hand. “I’ll keep that in mind. See you around, Slayer.”

“It’s Slayde now.”

“Slayde,” I repeat.

Walking out, past waxed walls and etched glass, I feel a fist tighten in my chest. I’m not sure if it’s the fact my former best friend and partner in crime is now working with the man who ended my life or if it’s the fact he’s clearly found a new and better one while I remain an outsider—alone, with nothing.

All I know is the burning rage will only get out one way. I’d bought a bus ticket to California, but I won’t be using it. I don’t have anything I care to take with me, so I leave it all behind. I’ll figure out my next moves when I get to the coast.

It’s true, I’ve fallen from a great height, but if Slayde Bennett can turn his fortune around, so can I.

Stripping off my clothes, I crouch at the side of the road and spring into the darkness, disappearing in a streak of midnight, headed west.

I
shower quickly
, dry off, and slip a thin, black cocktail dress over my head. Since I didn’t have time to exercise this afternoon, I never broke a sweat. Shaking out my long, wavy hair, I dust a bit of powder over my nose and smooth beige lipstick over my lips. One quick look, and I’m ready to descend the staircase for our weekly dinner with the Cross brothers.

After my parents died ten years ago, Dylan assumed the role of alpha of our family. She’d only been twenty-two at the time, and we’re only a small clan of lynx shifters. Still, as one of the oldest families in Woodland Creek, we have money and status, and we’re expected to associate with “the right kind.” I’m repeatedly reminded of this, even though I have zero interest in dating anyone in this town.

My middle sister Autumn escaped all the nonsense when she moved to the East Coast for college. She has never returned, and for some reason, no one seems to care. No such luck for me.

“Ah, here she is.” Hayden sits to the left of my sister at one end of our formal dining table. It’s long enough to seat twenty, but these dinners only host five.

I slowly enter the gleaming wood-paneled room and quickly survey the crystal wine glasses, the vase overflowing with harvest flowers, and the small salad plates at every place, including mine beside Hayden’s.

Dylan holds a flute of sparkling wine to her lips. I catch her mid-sip, and her blue eyes narrow. My aunt Penny gets out of her seat on the other side of Hayden’s brother Grant and trots toward me.

“Mercy, I don’t know what we’re going to do with you,” she laughs. “First you insist on taking lessons at that dreadful little pottery studio in town, and then you join that cheap little gym… Now you’re riding the city bus!”

Aunt Pen and I have always been close, despite her ridiculously old-fashioned ideas of how I should behave. For instance, private tutors are the only source of any instruction.

When Dylan took our parents’ place as leader in our house and in society, Penny gladly assumed the role of caregiver to Autumn and me. Autumn was eighteen at the time and already had one foot out the door, but I had just turned thirteen. I hadn’t had my first period or come into my shifter powers. Dylan couldn’t be bothered with such matters, but Penny held my hand through every change in my rapidly developing body. It causes me to be more tolerant of her opinions.

“I like riding the bus,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze before moving to the seat beside her. “It’s authentic.”

My oldest sister clears her throat. “Mercy…” A slide of blue eyes to her left, and I know what she’s communicating. “We’ve already set a place for you.”

“I was talking to Penny—”

“And you can continue from your seat across from her.” Her tone has the finality of an alpha, and I can’t disobey her in front of our guests.

Not that the Cross brothers are shifters or know about such things. More like Dylan would be livid at the thought of us fighting in front of an elder family. Hayden watches me round the table to his side, a cocky grin on his face. I want to take my buttered roll and rub it against his perfect nose.

“That’s a beautiful dress.” His low voice ripples through the air.

“It’s nothing special.”

I want to be difficult. I’m sick of Hayden being forced down my throat. Every person in this room—except possibly Penny—has some idea of who I should be, and not one of them cares in the slightest whether it lines up with what I want.

“I ran into Hal Junior this afternoon,” Dylan remarks as the server carries out our entrées. “He mentioned there might be an opening in the art department next year at the university. They’d like to add a pottery course.”

I almost drop my salad fork. “I am
not
interested in teaching. Especially not at a university known for science and astronomy.”

“It would be a great job for raising a family,” she continues, sounding more like a sixty-two year old than a thirty-two year old.

Reaching for my glass of red wine, I take a long sip to calm the fury tingling in my throat. I won’t even dignify that with an answer. She knows full well the only thing I’m looking for is a chance to get the hell out of here.

“I always wanted to teach,” Penny says with a sigh, trying to lighten the mood.

“You should send them your application,” I quip, replacing my glass. “You’re never too old to pursue your dreams.”

A plate of roast with dark brown gravy and mixed vegetables is set in front of me. The savory aroma makes my stomach grumble, and I pick up my knife.

“It would be a far better occupation for my future little sister than kickboxing instructor,” Grant says through a guffaw.

This time I do drop my knife. It hits the plate with a loud clang. “I’m sorry…” I can’t help the sputter in my tone. “Your
what
?”

“Grant has been over-served.” Hayden’s tone is icy as he glares across the table at his brother.

Pushing away from my place, I’m on my feet ready to bolt.

“Sit down, Mercy.” It’s a direct order from my alpha sister, but I’m blind with rage.

“I’ve lost my appetite.” The trembling in my muscles has reached my throat, and I need to get the fuck out of here. I need to strip off this dress, shift, and run hard, deep into the surrounding forest until I can breathe again.

“I said, Sit.
Down
.” She rises to her feet, and I can’t disobey her.

Still trembling, I pull the chair out and force myself to sit. The trembling doesn’t stop, and my hands are clenched tightly in my lap. I won’t even look at Hayden. I want him gone.

Thankfully, he stands, placing his napkin beside his plate.“If you’ll excuse me, Dylan. ladies. Grant and I have an urgent matter needing our attention. Grant?”

His hard voice slices through the air. I’ve never heard him speak this way, but I don’t care. I never want to see him again. I’ll give him credit for picking up on that much of what’s happening here tonight.

“Hayden…” Dylan’s voice by contrast is pure honey. “Must you go? We hardly even began dinner!”

“Forgive me, but we must.”

It’s only then I notice Grant wobbling slightly. I have no idea how long he was here before Hayden and I arrived from the gym. Clearly he’d had more than one pre-dinner cocktail, not that I give a shit. He spilled the beans. Now I know what they’ve all been plotting these last few years.

Dylan rises to see them out, leaving Aunt Penny and me alone together. I’m staring at the plate in front of me trying to find control.

“He’s not such a bad fellow,” she says quietly, fingering the base of her wine glass. “Some women find him very attractive.”

My blue eyes snap to hers. “He’s not one of us.”

She doesn’t answer right away. She doesn’t have time before Dylan strides quickly into the dining room, eyes blazing.

“How
dare
you!” My inner lynx flinches in response to her tone. She’s still my alpha, even if I’m pissed.

“How dare I what?” I growl.

“Hayden Cross is the most eligible bachelor in this town, and he’s taken an interest in you. Not that you do anything to deserve it.”

She paces the room, her dark brown hair fanning around her slim shoulders. She’s wearing a long, sheer wrap in a blue that makes her eyes glow. She’s a beautiful woman, but she’s so hard. The fact that we’ve never been close makes it easier for me to fight her.

Standing, I walk to where she’s stopped beside her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t want to stay here, Dylan. I want to move to San Francisco. I want to be an artist and have my own studio.”

“Enough, Mercy! I’ve clearly overlooked your eccentric behavior too long. It stops NOW!”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Her hand slams down at her side, and her eyes drill into mine, making me cower slightly. “No more art classes with the townies, no more riding the bus. No more hanging out at that fucking gym—”

“NO!” I shout back at her.

SLAP!
I stumble back from the force of her blow, and my arm hits the portable wet bar, causing the glass bottles to clatter against each other. I blink trying to regain my focus, and through the ringing in my ears, I hear Penny’s quiet whimpering.

Dylan faces me with both hands on her hips, her feet are spread in an aggressive stance, and her chest rises and falls rapidly.

I’m holding the side of my face. It hurts like hell, but I manage to speak, even if I’ve lost my edge. “Y-you let Autumn go…”

“Autumn has that privilege.”

Pain twists in my chest. “And I don’t?”

“No.”

The word hangs in the air between us. Nothing more is said. I’m breathing fast. She’s breathing fast, but it doesn’t matter. The conversation is over, and I’m left with only two options: do as she says or fight. I know which one I’ll choose.

“You’re the worst alpha I’ve ever known.”

“And you’re a spoiled, ignorant brat.”

She’s not backing down, but neither am I. Without another word, I go to the front door. I’m outside, pulling the hem of my dress up and over my head as I run. The design of it with thin spaghetti straps means I don’t wear a bra, and I don’t hesitate to rip the thong from my body as I lean forward, lunging into my shifter form.

Four paws hit the ground, and I’m running hard into the night. It’s late, and all I care about is burning away the pain of her words—the pain of having such a hateful bitch of an alpha sister, who only cares about money and status. She’s never cared about me. She never will.
I want my mom.

Even in my shifter form, even running, I hiccup a sob at the thought. I miss my kind, beautiful mother. As I cover the miles, I remember her holding me on her lap when I was a little girl. I remember her rich, comforting voice as she would thread her fingers through my dark hair. I remember the beauty of her words…

“You’re a lynx, Mercy. One of the most magical creatures. Native peoples invoked us to help them find things elusive and rare. We teach mortals to trust their instincts, to be alert. We give them extra-sensory perception.”

Mother would have loved that I’m not a snob. She would have loved that I want to be an artist. She would have encouraged me to move to San Francisco and pursue my pottery and sculpture.

The females in the lynx clan pass the authority. Although my mother had loved my father and trusted his advice implicitly, it was the old way. Our females are our alphas; they make the final decisions.

Now Dylan is trying to turn our pack into some kind of male-centric group, only interested in men’s needs or desires. She’s reducing us to their subordinates, only good for being at home and making babies. My career, my dreams would always be secondary to Hayden’s. He would force me to be his well-behaved wife, and he’s not even a shifter! She’s perverting the lynx order, and I have the right to fight her power.

Indignation drives me on. I’m not going back there tonight. Dylan can twist in her worry that I’ve left for good this time. The only person I care about is Penny. I hate to make her lose sleep. Still, it can’t be helped.

I’m at the cliffs overlooking The Observatory when I pause to catch my breath and scent the air. It’s a beautiful fall night, crisp and clear. I’ve started to calm when I take a few steps forward, toward the small creek.

Dipping my head, I lap the cool water, and when I lift it again, I scent him. A cat-shifter, and a powerful one.

I don’t move. All the anger swirling inside me disappears as I take another sniff. He’s new to these woods. I’ve never scented him before.
Who is he? Why is he here?

Backing into the cover of brush, I can’t help wanting to investigate. I’m curious by nature. Still, I’m small, and while I’m not afraid, my self-defense classes have taught me to be smart.

I’ll see what I can discover before making my presence known.

* * *

Southern Indiana has never been on my radar. It’s never even entered my realm of possibilities. I’d been making good time across the continent. The weather had cooperated, and I’d only stopped to eat and sleep. Still, when I crossed the Kentucky border, I felt a climactic pull to the north.

I say “climactic” because it had been like a strong wind pushing against my face, forcing me to deflect and move northward into this forest. Slowing my pace, I walk through the darkness, sniffing the damp leaves.

I’m far from the proud panther I should be. Loss and isolation twist together in my chest, making my head hang low. No shifter should be alone. Our kind craves touch, contact. It’s part of who we are, and spending the past decade in isolation almost broke me.

Is that why I went to Slayer? Or
Slayde
, I guess. We would know to embrace. The shifter way is to touch, whether it’s wolf to panther to bear, any other form.

I needed a hug from my best friend.
God, I sound like a fucking pussy.
I should kick my own ass.
I’m so tired, the thought evokes a loose laugh from me as I continue loping in the darkness.

The ache in my chest is intense, but the fact I can laugh at myself means I’ll survive it. I’ve been surviving so far. I’ll make it back to what I once was.