Battered Not Broken (2 page)

Ally couldn’t help exchanging a glance with Melissa, who looked significantly less surprised than Ally felt.

Damn Ryan Moore’s distracting tattoo. It blurred as he moved, surprisingly light on his feet for someone who had to be six feet tall. The design was a complicated blend of a line of script that spanned his shoulders and scrolling Celtic knots that covered his entire back. It was impossible to tell what the words said from a distance, especially while he was moving. One would have to get close to read the script – almost close enough to touch him.

Oof
. Sanchez’ breath rushed out with a startled sound as Moore’s knee hit his stomach and he began to double over. He got ahold of himself quickly and straightened into a fighter’s pose again, his shoulders rounded and his eyes wiser.

Clearly, it wasn’t Moore’s first time in the ring. Sanchez toned down his aggressiveness, taking a more defensive approach and guarding himself against his opponent’s strikes. Soon, he landed a hook that tipped Moore’s head of short-cropped brown hair.

Moore took the punch well and hardly paused before launching into a leg sweep that nearly sent Sanchez to the mat.

Nearly. Sanchez managed to break the clench after a couple tense moments and was back on his toes, his eyes flashing with calculation.

All of the gym regulars knew that Sanchez considered scissor takedowns a specialty of his. Moore had no way of knowing, so maybe that was why he seemed taken by surprise when the other man threw himself into the air, pulling off the move flawlessly.

It was one of the best scissor takedowns Ally had ever seen, even for Sanchez. It floored Moore, shaking the ring with an audible smack as his back hit the mat.

An intense struggle for power ensued and Moore managed to work his way to the top. Sanchez weighed in at one eighty-five. Moore couldn’t have been much heavier, if at all – he was taller, but Sanchez was built like a brick house.

Moore landed a few blows to Sanchez’ ribs and the other man hit back, striking Moore across the jaw once. Then their limbs tangled, discernible only because of differences in skin color – where Sanchez’ was a rich, sienna-like shade, Moore was both lighter and darker, his naturally fairer skin lightly tanned where it wasn’t covered in black ink.

It ended in an armbar, and the victory went to Moore. By that point, the gym was so silent that Sanchez’ tap out echoed throughout the whole open, high-ceilinged room that made up most of the gym.

“Lucky you, Sanchez.” Cameron’s voice rang throughout the gym. “You’ve finally got a sparring partner in your weight class who’ll keep you on your toes.”

Sanchez didn’t look as pleased about his loss as Cameron sounded, but nodded in Moore’s direction anyway as he rose, sweat-slicked from head to toe.

“Good thing we never placed an official bet,” Melissa said under her breath.

“Yeah,” Ally conceded. “Dinner’s on me anyway. We’re having enchiladas tonight. You should come by and have some before you leave for work.”

Ryan Moore’s gaze had inspired her to invite Melissa to dinner. He was staring in their direction like he’d never seen a female before, and the intensity of his gaze sent a prickle of protectiveness down her spine.

It was hard to tell whether he was gaping at both of them or one of them, but either way she wasn’t going to let Melissa walk out of the gym with the new guy staring in their direction like that – not after she’d watched him wipe the floor with Sanchez. Melissa was tough, but she couldn’t have been much more than half his weight. And Ryan Moore might be a gym member, but he was still a stranger.

Melissa flashed Ally a dazzling smile. “Sounds great.”

They headed to the women’s changing room together. As usual, they were its only occupants. The gym only had two other female members, and the grand total of four was the highest it had ever been, according to Cameron. The fighting events he sponsored on weekends had been drawing more and more female competitors though, and he hoped to recruit some of them to train at Knockout.

Ally wiped the perspiration from her face and body with the clean towel she kept in her gym bag. She always sweated like a racehorse – a trait she’d been unfortunate enough to inherit from her father. She hadn’t exactly cooled down while watching Sanchez and Moore spar, either. It had been pretty intense. She attributed the heat flushing her cheeks to Sanchez’ scissor takedown, refusing to consider that Moore’s broad, inked shoulders might have contributed to her internal heat wave.

Clad in jeans, a long-sleeved tee and jacket, she exited the changing room with Melissa at her side. They’d barely made it a few steps before Ally nearly ran into Ryan Moore’s chest for the second time that day.

He’d stepped out from behind a bag, directly into her path. This time, he didn’t seem to have done it on purpose, but she frowned anyway.

He’d apparently hit the bags directly after his sparring match with Sanchez. He was so sweaty that his skin practically seemed to glow, his chest and washboard abs ink-free and rippling. She stared at them for a moment too long, and when she raised her gaze to his face, his blue eyes met hers. “Sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she said, every ounce of commonsense she possessed urging her to get out of his line of sight before her cheeks turned crimson.

“Ally, right?” He kept his gaze trained on her – a considerable feat considering that Melissa was standing right beside her, looking gorgeous as usual.

“Yeah.”

 He didn’t try to shake her hand this time, but he didn’t move, either.

The prolonged eye contact was weird, but Ally couldn’t bring herself to break it. The muffled sound of heavy-hitting on heavier bags created a familiar, almost soothing blend of background noise, and she found herself noticing the striations of color in Ryan Moore’s eyes. They were a spectrum, really, of every shade of blue, from pale icy shades to deep navy, the color of the sea. And there were the thinnest rings of golden-orange around his pupils.

He tipped his head in her direction, looking at her down the straight, almost sharp line of his nose. “Nice to meet you.”

It became impossible to keep her eyes on his as he spoke. Her gaze drifted downward, rebelliously settling on the surprisingly shapely Cupid’s bow curve of his lips. If his sensual mouth hadn’t been balanced by a strong jaw, it might have seemed unmasculine. As it was, the contrast did strange things to the cautious coolness she’d tried to cultivate toward the newcomer. With each movement of his lips, each syllable he spoke, the room’s temperature seemed to rise by a degree.

She’d already met him – more or less – earlier, before his match with Sanchez. So what was there to say? A weird lump formed in her throat and she settled for nodding, as if that meant anything.

After several strangely agonizing moments, she found her voice. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“You will,” he answered without hesitating. “You’ll be here Friday night, right?”

“I was planning to come watch the fights.” She usually showed up to watch the open men’s MMA matches on Friday nights. Cameron organized them and held them right in the gym, pushing the bags back against the walls and setting up chairs instead. It was his dream to run Baltimore’s best amateur MMA circuit – Harbor City MMA Events – and his competitions had been growing steadily in popularity. “I like to be here to cheer on the guys from our gym when I can.”

Most of the gym members competed regularly – some for the admittedly modest cash prizes, others just to challenge themselves.

Ryan’s lips curved in a sly smile. “I hope you’ll cheer for me too, then. I don’t think I could lose if you were screaming my name from the audience.”

His words produced an effect similar to being side-kicked in the gut by Melissa. Combined with his smile, there was no doubting he knew exactly how they sounded. “That’s not going to happen,” she said, careful to keep her tone cool despite the fact that her insides seemed to be burning up beneath his blue gaze.

She started to step around him but paused to add something else for good measure before striding past. “I hope Cameron doesn’t pair you up with Sanchez again. He won’t take it easy on you next time – especially not in front of a paying audience.” The words did something to balance her internal equilibrium, slowing her palpitating heart just a little.

The March air was even colder than her words. A gust of it threaded its way through her messy ponytail as she opened the gym’s front door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“So what’d you think of the new guy?” Melissa asked, her tone light-hearted, as if she hadn’t been present for the exchange that had occurred only seconds ago.

“Seriously?”

Melissa donned a smile that was too knowing for Ally’s liking. “Seriously.”

“He’s too cocky for his own good.” At first, she’d been impressed by his lack of gloating after the fight. Then he’d ruined it as she and Melissa had made their exit. Maybe acting like a smartass to the nearest woman was his way of gloating. “I bet Sanchez will wipe the floor with him on Friday.” She said it, but her heart wasn’t in it. It was still too easy to remember his chiseled body in the ring, so brutally efficient that it was downright graceful. Truth was, Sanchez would have his hands full if Cameron paired them together for the weekend’s fight.

“Maybe you’ll get to watch him fight someone from outside the gym. Cameron doesn’t like to pair members together if he can help it – most of the guys participate because they want to test their skills against someone fresh.”

“Maybe.” Melissa was right. The opportunity to test one’s self against a stranger was what attracted most of the guys to the fights. For some, it was an opportunity to measure and better themselves. For others, it was a testosterone-fueled battle of egos. Either way, the fights drew in crowds. If the events got any bigger, Cameron’s dream would outgrow his venue. They’d almost run out of seats the week before.

“Too bad I have to work,” Melissa said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing him fight.”

Ally arched a brow at her friend. “Because of his left hook, or because of his blue eyes?”

The smug little smile that crept across Melissa’s face told Ally she’d walked into a trap. “So you did notice.”

* * * * *

“Hey, mamá.” Ally stepped through the front door of the modest little white one-story, three-bedroom house that had once been her father’s pride and joy, second only to his family. The smell of her mother’s enchiladas slipped over her like a warm blanket.

“Hey, mija,” her mother, Maria, greeted her as she turned from the fridge to smile at Ally, a container of sour cream in hand. “And Melissa. I thought you might join us for dinner.”

Melissa beamed. “You know I can’t resist your enchiladas, Mrs. R.”

“Well, there’s plenty for all of us.” Maria slipped on a pair of oven mitts and pulled a baking dish from the oven, depositing it on the small kitchen table.

What she’d said was true – the dish was more than full enough. She’d never stopped cooking for four.

Ally pulled three plates and a handful of silverware from a nearby cupboard and drawer and quickly set the table.

“How did things go at the gym?” Maria asked, placing glasses of water at three of the table’s four seats.

“Not bad,” Ally said. “Mel and I got in some serious practice. Her kicks just keep getting better, and I swear her legs got even longer overnight. She nearly kicked my butt.”

Melissa ignored the compliment as she took Maria’s cue and settled into one of the seats. “It was a pretty typical day at the gym.” She shot a teasing smile in Ally’s direction. “Oh – and a new member joined today.”

“Another woman?” Wielding a serving fork, Maria began doling out enchiladas. She attended enough Harbor City MMA Events functions to know that Cameron was striving to attract more females to the gym.