DARE: A Bad Boy Romance (3 page)

If there was one thing Holly hated more than fitness gyms, it was men’s boxing gyms. They had such a threatening vibe; the people in them had one thing on their minds: putting the hurt on other people. It reminded her of all the worst parts of having a fighter like Trey as a boyfriend. She’d always felt safe around him in high school and for some time after, but after his umpteenth successive concussion—she couldn’t recall the incident or even the year—he had begun to turn his hostility inward, toward her, because she was letting him down somehow. She was not living up to his idea of what a famous MMA fighter’s partner should be like. Not supportive enough? Not hot enough? Not strong enough? He’d never explained it to her in any way that made sense. He’d let his crazy verbal outbursts do the talking, and later, when they’d failed to convince her, he’d let his physical advantage take over.

She shuddered at the memories—they were more recent than she wanted to admit. Because Trey was not getting better, he was getting worse. And entering a sweat-pit like Scallion’s hammered home two things: how much she hated boxing gyms, and how worried she was about Trey. To come here of all places, alone, to thank a man whose looks and reputation flat-out scared her, told her how desperate she was to do
something
she could feel good about.

“Can I help you, love?” A politer-than-she’d-expected topless British guy strolled up to her as he toweled off. He was in his mid-forties, silver-haired, his skin reddish all over.

Holly did her best to control her nervous tremble. Her smile quivered. “I’m looking for Dare Bowden?”

His expression twitched a note of disappointment. “Just my luck. I think he’s in the back, darling. Do you want me to fetch him for you?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. Thanks.”

“What’s your name, love?”

“Um, Holly. Holly Watkins.”

“Okay then. Won’t be a sec.” He seemed so gentle and friendly; it wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Then again, it had been a long time since she’d been in a boxing gym, or a gym of any kind for that matter. Trey had persuaded her to join one years ago, to get her into better shape, but she’d quit after a few sessions. It had felt too much like competing for the sake of competing. When she’d realized there was no way in hell she could ever be as toned or as skinny as those hardcore fitness chicks, it had all felt, well, a bit like self-abuse. And anyway, Trey had fallen in love with her when she’d been bouncy in high school. She was still bouncy. So what was his problem?

Mm, try telling him that.

She shifted her weight, then steeled herself when the British lobster reappeared side by side with a man so tattooed he looked like something from a comic book. Closer, she saw that the tattoos were a pattern of black, flame-like swirls, extremely elaborate and even beautiful in a savage, exotic tribal kind of way.

Dare Bowden the fighter looked exactly like she’d imagined—huge arms and shoulders, buzzed-off hair, permanent five o’clock shadow, and a seriously cut physique, including a six pack that could stop a sledge hammer. She remembered she’d met him before, briefly, though she couldn’t recall the exact venue. The blazing blue eyes, chiseled jaw, kissable lips, and the vaguely Italian-American look: if it weren’t for the tribal ink and the majorly badass reputation, she might only be intimidated by how drop dead handsome he was. He even had a cute bubble butt, revealed when he turned to fill a cup of water from the cooler.

“Miss…Watkins?” he asked between sips. The British guy left them alone.

“Hi. You won’t remember me,” she said. “At least I don’t think
you will.”

“We met a few months back. A charity event, I think. Yeah, I remember now. I started that night in a tux, finished it wearing a T-shirt with my own picture on it. Boo-yah!”

“Oh.” Holly had no response except to look around the gym.

“So…you’re here about what happened…?” He cocked his head to one side. “Say, why
are
you here? Didn’t your guy try to kill me a few days back?”

She nodded gravely. “He told me what happened out in the street, and I-I just wanted to say thank you.”

Dare quirked an eyebrow. “
Thank
you?” His brilliant blue eyes seemed to gaze right through her. “I thought you wanted to serve me with a subpoena or something.”

“No. I know what you did that night in the ring. I know you did it for the right reasons. Trey won’t admit it, but he’s in trouble. He’s not been himself. I think he’d have died that night if you hadn’t…” The intensity flooded back, and all she could think about was losing Trey, the only man she’d ever loved. He was slipping away from her even now. It felt like there was no way to prevent that. And it twisted her up inside.

“Listen, do you want to go somewhere a little less…intense?” He looked her up and down, but subtly, not in any sleazy way. “It was good of you to come here, but this is no place to talk. How about we grab a cup of coffee instead? There’s a diner about a block that way.” He pointed up Main Street. “Give me five minutes to freshen up, and I’ll meet you there. That okay?”

“Um, yeah—I mean what?” She shot him a puzzled look. “Coffee?”

“Uh-huh. It’s not bad there. I can recommend the espresso.”

“Why do you want to buy me coffee?” It sounded dumb as soon as she’d said it, but this wasn’t remotely how she’d expected this meeting to go. Dare Bowden was supposed to be one of the more unpleasant fighters on the MMA circuit, an icy outcast who had no time for fans or interviewers and who slept with more women than a randy sheik with a Platinum card.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “We can always go a few rounds right here. Look, the ring’s empty.” He flicked her an insolent wink, then beamed a cheeky grin. At any other time, she might have found that obnoxious, but he was going out of his way to dispel the tension between them, and she liked him for it. Against her better judgment, she actually kinda liked this guy.

“Five minutes,” she said. “I’m buying.”

“Deal.” And he immediately left to get changed. A cluster of scars high on his left shoulder hinted at some kind of extensive war wound, maybe deep shrapnel damage. It was the one area of his torso that didn’t have a single tattoo. Then she noticed the heavy bruising on his right side, probably where Trey had kicked him repeatedly. So what was he even
doing
working out with busted ribs? Not that Trey wouldn’t do that kind of thing. These guys were all nuts to some degree.

The British lobster waved to her as she walked out, and she waved back. All the way to the diner, actually nearer two blocks away, Holly wondered what Trey would say if he knew she was having coffee with the guy he’d tried to kill a few days ago. Then, strangely, the idea made her feel good about herself, like she’d rebelled against some insane ground rule for the first time, and she spent several minutes gazing out through the window of the diner, wondering what it would feel like if—just maybe—she allowed herself to rebel a little more.

Hmm, this was as good a place as any to start.

***

“First I’ve got to ask,” she said after a preliminary sup of her cappuccino. The verdict: a little weak, but passable. “Why did you do it? Why did you step in?”

Dare chomped through his bagel like a shire horse after a long day in the field. He nodded, held up a finger, indicating he wanted to answer but not with his mouth full—more evidence that he wasn’t quite the Neanderthal the press had made him out to be. And Holly found herself asking:
Who is he really? What’s he like away from his army buddies and his bad boy MMA persona?

“You and me, we both had the same idea,” he replied finally.

“Come again?”

“About that ref. We both knew he wasn’t doing his job, no?” He washed his bagel down with a swig of steaming espresso. “I mean the way you were looking at what happened in there—you
knew
your guy wasn’t just flagging; he was done, like, no coming back.”

She eyed him askance. “Why do you say that?”

“No reason to be coy about it. I’ll be the first to admit I’m not always the best judge of what a person’s thinking, but I’ve been around fear plenty, and I know what desperate looks like.” His piercing blue eyes did seem to be waiting for the truth to somehow show itself in her. Interesting. He was perceptive, if not exactly subtle.

“Then I won’t be coy either, Mr. Bowden.”

“Dare. Unless you’re IRS, in which case I’m outta here but quick.”

Cute, but he wanted the truth, he could have it. “My boyfriend’s taken some rough knocks over the years, Mr. Dare. More than I think anyone knows. Repeated concussions, which he’s refused treatment for, so everyone can go on thinking he’s this invincible warrior carved from granite or some damn thing.” She paused, a part of her reluctant to disparage the only man she’d loved since high school.

“I know the type,” said Dare, watching her closely. It suddenly made her very self-conscious, as though she was betraying Trey on a level she would hate herself for later. But wasn’t that the whole point of her coming here to see Dare Bowden? She had to do
something,
damn it. Staying silent and obedient and under Trey’s crazy-making spell had eaten away at her for too long. If she hadn’t come here to thank Dare, to at least
talk
about this with someone who had an inkling of what it was all about, she’d fucking explode.

This wasn’t betrayal, it was survival—
her
survival. Trey wouldn’t listen, he never had. And as much as she hated to admit it, things had been over between them for some time now. The problem was: neither of them was willing to face it. And she still loved the Trey Oregon from high school, always would. What she now had to figure out was a way to extricate herself from this toxic relationship without hurting him—and herself—more than she had to. So far, she hadn’t had the heart to do it.

Maybe she never would.

“He did steroids too,” she said.

“A lot do.”

“More than a lot. It really screwed him up.” She didn’t mention the resulting testicular damage or the testosterone he’d had to take to counteract it. “I just think his concussions have gone untreated for far too long. It’s messed with his head. He’s always been stubborn, but he just won’t be told.” She swallowed. “I don’t know how much of this you want to know.”

Dare blinked at her. “He’s punch-drunk. When he attacked me the other day, it was as if I was fighting someone who wasn’t really there. He was fighting on instinct, just…blank. Guys like that are dangerous. They can be lethal. I’ve seen guys like that snap in the field: too much pressure, too many knocks, or too many nights without sleep, and
bam!
Something just flips inside and that person is unrecognizable. And that’s all she wrote. Or they get over it, maybe, with time and treatment and…care, I guess.” He swallowed. “I don’t know how much of this
you
want to know.”

Holly twitched a smile. It was a horrible thing to think about—that something like that could happen to Trey, at any time. But it was a comfort to know Dare at least knew what he was talking about. Maybe more than he was letting on. Something in the way he’d cut short like that: had he had personal experience with it, perhaps with someone he was close to?

“What do you think I should do?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “If they guy won’t listen, not much you can do. On the other hand, I wouldn’t—” A noise distracted him from the across the café. He spun round, jaw clenched, then let out a slow, relaxing sigh when it turned out to be nothing more than a fallen cup.

“You were saying…” She reminded him.

“Hmm?”

“I asked you what you thought I should do about Trey.”

“Ah, I reckon you could say something to the IMMAF. Don’t let him know you contacted them, but they have doctors who can recommend a psych evaluation if they think it’s warranted. In your case, I’d say it definitely qualifies.” The resolve in his voice and the strong, grounded way he delivered every gesture made her feel unusually safe. For her to be so sure of herself, so free to discuss such personal things with such a big macho guy as Dare Bowden—she almost didn’t want their cups to empty. She’d dreaded coming here today to meet him. What was it about him that now made her feel like she’d been missing something all this time? She’d thought she had fighters figured out. That they were all somehow carbon copies of Trey, with slightly differing doses of hot sex and cold male bullshit. But maybe she’d been wrong about that. Wrong in a big way.