Uncaged Love #4: MMA New Adult Contemporary Romance (4 page)

“Not sure what you want Colt to do about it,” I say.

Annie glares at me. “He has a lot of people who don’t like him.”

“I expect a lot of people at the top do. You got your money. Move on.”

“Fifty thou doesn’t go far if you don’t have a way to support yourself,” she says.

Not Colt’s fault, I think. “So, do something else.”

“I went back to The Cure.” She says Colt’s father’s name with a sneer. “I told him I’d make a tearful return to Colt and get him back on the fighting path. But he had me thrown out!”

“He’s not exactly a friendly man.”

She laughs. “You got that right.”

Now she’s acting like we’re friends or something. I’m sick of this. My door is unlocked, so I push it open and go inside. I’m about to turn around and secure it when Annie smashes against it, knocking it wide.

I jerk off my jacket and toss it away so I have a better range of motion. I should never have given up the hoodies. Annie spins around to deliver what should have been a spectacular kick to my face, but I dodge it easily. She falls into the folding chair, tangling her leg.

I guess she’s here to fight after all.

“Bad landing,” I say, and drop my knee on her belly. I’m small, but so is she. We’re probably evenly matched on weight.

But I can sense how much longer she’s trained when she grasps my neck, sending a shrieking pain into my skull. This isn’t a regulation MMA move, so I don’t know it. Or how to defend against it.

Annie knocks me to the ground, but this loosens her grip, and I can move again. I roll into the coffee table and drag her with me. This time when I pin her, I put my knees on her upper arms so she can’t grab me.

“Just tell me why the hell you are here,” I say, my face inches from her.

She laughs again. “We’re coming for you. Enjoy your little moment with Colt, because there’s a whole lot of us invested in seeing him fail.”

Then she lunges up with her pelvis in a feat of strength I’ve never even witnessed before. I tumble onto my head and roll into a chair. Annie is up instantly, and before I can even get to my feet, she’s delivered a series of sharp kicks to my ribs.

I grab her leg and jerk her down, getting a solid jab straight to her eye as she falls. People are going to notice that tomorrow.

We grapple with each other, smashing into the sofa and chairs. Blows rain on my face, but I’m giving as good as I get. I try to get on top of her again, but that fierce strength of hers knocks me backward. This time my head slams against the coffee table, and everything goes black for a second.

I can hear the sound of my own breathing. The scene goes in and out for a few seconds, grayish and fuzzy, like an old television. Annie stands over me, a blurry form.
 

Get up
, I tell myself, and force myself to my elbows.

“That’s enough for now,” Annie says. “But don’t think this is over.” She walks away, and the room is flooded white as she pushes the half-open door wide. She disappears into the blinding light.

I lay back down on the floor. My head pounds from the inside out, like there’s a drum in my skull. I reach behind my head and feel the stickiness of blood. Damn it. I roll over to my belly. Colt is two hours away. Zero is at work. An ambulance is crazy expensive.
 

I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Buster. He can send Nate to patch me up. This is no different from any other fight. Except this time, there’s going to be one hell of a rematch.

Chapter Seven
 

Nate and Buster are still sitting around my living room when Colt and Doc Simon make it a couple hours later. I’m lying on the sofa with an ice pack on my head. Nate has proclaimed that I will live. Buster wants to call off the fight on Friday. They’ve been arguing about it since they arrived.

Colt kneels next to me on the sofa. “How’s my Kettle Belle?” He’s in his fight suit, his blonde hair sticking to his head. He obviously came straight from his own training.

“Wishing I got a couple more good jabs in,” I say.

He pushes my hair back off my forehead. “I can’t believe someone attacked you,” he says. “We’ve got to get you moved someplace safer than this neighborhood.”

Buster stands up and moves to the end of the sofa. “This wasn’t a random attack, Colt,” he says. He hands Colt a piece of paper. It’s the membership form for Annabelle Warren.

Colt stares at it in disbelief. “Annie?” He looks at me. “It was Annie?”

“I didn’t know her,” Buster says. “No clue she was someone associated with you. She’s been having Jo train her. Acted like she didn’t have a skill in the world.”

Colt tosses the paper on the coffee table. “That’s it.” He reaches down to scoop me up in his arms. “You’re coming home with me.”

Doc Simon touches his shoulder. “Let me take a look at her first. Let’s make sure she doesn’t need an X-ray or a scan.”

I don’t want to leave Colt’s arms, the warmth of his chest, but he sets me back down on the sofa. “Okay, but I’m putting her in the compound for her own safety.”

“Not with your dad!” I cry.

Colt curses under his breath. “Right. We’ll secure my place here in LA.” He turns to Buster. “Is Brent still around somewhere? He could guard her.”

“I don’t need a guard,” I say. They’re overreacting. “She’s just one girl.”

Doc Simon lifts my head, pushing my hair around to look at the gash. “She got you pretty good,” he says. He lays me down. “Nice cleanup,” he says to Nate.

Nate is hunched over on a folding chair, his unlit cigar clamped between his lips. “I’ve sent worse back into the ring,” he grumbles.

Doc Simon sorts through his bag for his light. He shines it in my eyes. “Pupils are fine. I don’t think she has a concussion. We can take her in anyway, if you like.” He looks up at Colt.

“No,” I say.

Doc sticks the penlight back in his bag. “This isn’t anything major. I don’t see a reason to call off Friday’s match.” He squirts gel on a piece of gauze and applies it to my head. “But I agree that she should have somebody with her. Figure out what’s going on, since it wasn’t random.”

Buster starts pacing the room. “Jo says Annie knows that Lani girl. I’m going to call her in if she comes back. I doubt we’ll see Annie again after this.”

“Is that her address on the form?” Colt asks.

“Fake. I checked,” Buster says. “It’s a movie theater.”

Colt frowns. “What about this Lani person?”

“She paid for three months in cash,” Buster says. “Not sure her name is even Lani.”

I remember something. “That fighter boy Parker knows her,” I say, wincing at Doc’s pressure on my head. “Power Play.”

“I know his trainer,” Nate says. “I’ll give him a call.”

Buster turns to Colt. “What the hell is this about? You do something to Annie recently that would make her come after Jo?”

Colt shakes his head. “I haven’t seen her since the day she left.”

Doc lets go of my head. I’m tired of lying down, so I sit up. Colt fits in next to me on the sofa, his arm around my shoulders. I try to figure out how to say the next part, and take his hand. “Annie said your father paid her fifty thousand dollars to leave you.”

A muscle in Colt’s jaw starts to tick. “Doesn’t that man have any other way of persuading people?” he asks. His free hand clamps into a fist. “He’s at the compound right now.”

Colt looks at Doc. “We should head back. I’m going to confront him.”

“What about Jo?” Buster asks. “I can maybe take her with me.”

I don’t want that. “I’ll go with Colt,” I say. “I guess it’s time for me to have another chat with The Cure myself.”

Colt squeezes my hand. “We’ll see him together. I’ll make Mother come. That’ll keep him in line.” He kisses my fingers.

“I need to pack some things,” I say. I want everyone to leave so I can clean myself up.

Nate stands. “Make sure you get in a few licks this week, if you’re still going to fight Diva Delaney on Friday.”

“We’ll have Killjoy put her through some paces,” Colt says. “If things settle down, we’ll bring her back so she can train again with you before the match.”

“All right.” Nate steps up to me and lays a hand on my shoulder. “You’re a tough girl, Jo. You’ll be fine.”

He and Buster head out together, leaving me with Colt and Doc. “You need to get some things?” Colt asks.

I nod. He tries to help me up, but I push him away. If I’m going to face his family, I can’t act like an invalid. “Give me a minute.”

Colt stays in the living room with Doc while I head to the bedroom. I stare at myself in the mirror, my hair all crazy from the ice pack and whatever else they glued to my head. I’m a wreck.

But I don’t care if The Cure or Colt’s mother thinks I’m pretty, or cultured, or good enough for their boy. I only care that they know he and I are a team. And nobody’s going to break us apart.

Nobody.

Chapter Eight
 

When I get out of the Mercedes in Santa Barbara, I can feel the effects of the fight. My muscles have stiffened up during the ride.

Still, I don’t let on, making sure I walk with good form up to the front door of the family mansion.

The driver leaves to take Doc Simon around to the gym and drop my things off at Colt’s condo, which is thankfully miles away from here. Colt called his father ahead and insisted on a meeting. Unfortunately, his mother is in San Diego, so it will just be the three of us. I’m not sure if that news makes me feel better or worse about what’s taking place. Even Colt isn’t sure how much she knows about her husband’s actions.

We both pause in front of the oversized door. Colt looks down at me. “You ready for this?”

“I’ve faced worse,” I say. “At least we won’t be in a moving vehicle.”

Colt pulls me to his chest. “I am amazed by you.” He kisses the top of my head, careful to avoid the gelled-up gash.

I smack his belly playfully. “Be more amazed when I throw the first punch at a three-time heavyweight boxing champion.”

Colt chuckles. The sound vibrates from his chest into my skin. It’s comforting, this closeness. We give ourselves another minute, then Colt extracts his key fob from his pocket and waves it at the sensor by the door.

The foyer is how I remember, the twin staircases flanking either side. Instead of passing between them to the kitchen, however, Colt turns us to the right.

Immense double doors, probably twelve feet high, open to a fancy front room that makes me think of
The
Beverly Hillbillies
, a show my grandmother used to watch. The room is formal and cold. And empty.

We pass through it to another set of doors. Colt doesn’t open these, however, but pauses to knock.

Inside, I hear a voice I remember well from the limo ride. “Come in, son.”

It’s The Cure McClure.

His office is like something you might see in an old movie. Dark paneled walls, burgundy wing chairs, a fireplace. An Alaskan husky sleeps on a rug. The dog pricks up his ears when we enter, but then settles back down. I’m not surprised that even the animals in the family are as impassive and unfriendly as the owners. I want to bend down and scratch him behind the ears, but Colt’s father stands up behind his desk and I feel paralyzed.

“Hello, Colt,” he says. Then to me, “We meet again.”

The Cure clearly doesn’t do casual wear, even alone at home. His suit jacket fits him perfectly, charcoal and expensive. A red tie stands out brightly against a crisp white shirt, like blood on porcelain. He is still large and formidable in his retirement, broad shouldered with a face that is more rugged than handsome.

Colt doesn’t waste any time getting to the point. “Fifty thousand to Annie? Really?”

His father takes a step back. He hadn’t expected that as an opening line. He grasps the lapel of his jacket and snaps it sharply, as if it needs straightening. “Who fed you that bit of misinformation?”

Colt’s face is a mask of control. I know that if it snaps, anything could happen.
Fight of the century
, I think, then mentally smack myself for it. But still, heavyweight-boxing-champion father versus MMA-title-hopeful son? That would definitely be something to see.

The Cure chooses rather wisely to stay behind the desk. When Colt doesn’t answer, his father taps the top of the gleaming desk with a long finger. “There are some mistakes that fathers don’t want to see their sons repeat.”

Colt barks out a bitter laugh. “You just don’t quit, do you?”

“That girl was dragging you down.”

Colt pulls me close and wraps his arm around my waist. “And this one? Also dragging me down? I’m doing fine now. Fuck off.”

I squeeze Colt’s arm. I’m hoping they’ll actually talk, not just insult each other. I’m not going to go all spiritual and hope for healing or forgiveness. But I know what it’s like to not have a dad. Surely they can do better than this.

The Cure folds his hands together in front of him, as if he’s preparing to deliver a paternal talk.

But Colt gets in first. “I’ve already started separating the accounts,” he says. “I’m breaking out of the family corporation.”

His father nods. His eyes are full of resignation. “Probably time for that.”

“I don’t want you in any of my affairs. I’ll move my staff away from your gym as soon as I can find my own facility.”

“There’s no need to disrupt your routine.” The Cure taps on a button on his phone. “Elise, can you reprogram the locks to the gym so that I no longer have access?”

“Yes, sir,” a perky voice answers. “Just you or Mrs. McClure as well?”

He looks up at Colt. “Should your mother be able to visit you? Or are you cutting us both off to spite yourself?”

Colt lets go of me and lunges at the phone. He jerks it off the table and flings it at a bookshelf.

I jump after him. “Colt, no!”

The Cure sits back down in his leather chair. He’s back to his expression of annoyance. “Should we add a psychiatrist to the payroll?” He glances at me. “Perhaps I should be concerned for your safety rather than his.”

Colt slams his hands on the surface of the desk, knocking over a cup of pens. “The whole reason we’re here is for Jo’s safety. Did you know Annie joined Buster’s Gym? That she attacked Jo today at her own home?”