FIGHTER: An MMA Romance Novel (17 page)

J
ax
.

Never had a rookie been such a thorn in Kade's side. The billionaire sat with his laptop in his office, door open to reveal the darkened lobby beyond it. All the lights in the building had been flipped off, except for the one that lit up the area around him. No one stuck around the office past eight, and the time displayed at the bottom right of Kade's taskbar showed it edging towards nine. Kade couldn't care less. There was work to be done.

Pitting Jax against the current champ was the first step, but today proved that wasn’t enough. The way Nicole walked up to him with adoration in her eyes and a sway in her hips proved that he was still a threat to Kade’s plans for her.

If Nicole felt like Jax cared about her, she’d never come crawling back. And if there was anywhere Kade wanted her, it was down on her knees. Kade needed some dirt to ruin Jax's image, and he needed it now. The sooner word got out, the sooner Nicole would lose interest. From there, she'd be easy. Kade would possess what was rightfully his once more.

But first he had to dig.

Jax McCarthy. Many fighters had a history of violent or petty crime, but Jax's ears were clean. A search of the public databases gave him nothing. Kade grimaced and continued his search. The UFL's databases connected to several public and private background checks, and if there was anything shady to be found, Kade was sure he'd find it.

Employment history was another bust. Jax worked a few minimum wage jobs before he'd been picked up by the UFL, employed at a gas station and a couple fast food places. All the jobs ended on good terms. The man had never even been fired.
No fighter had a past so squeaky clean.

Something wasn't right.

Kade's fingers danced across the keys, searching everything he could think of. Jax had never failed to file his taxes, had completed high school with mediocre grades, and had never even associated with criminals. There was nothing. The longer he searched, the more frustrated he felt. It was like he'd lived in a bubble all his life.

"What are you hiding?" Kade seethed. No one was without their faults, and Jax's clean record made him more suspicious than ever. Fighters more often than not came from difficult backgrounds. No sane person swung their fists for a living, not when doing so meant risking near everything. Fighters in the UFL either retired as broken men or died young.

Health.

It felt like a long shot, but Kade had investigated every other angle to no results. Expecting nothing, Kade accessed Jax's health records and let the results roll in.

The billionaire struck gold.

Hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid medical bills, charges dating as recently as last year. Eyes widening in glee, Kade scrolled through the list of services rendered. Oncology visit. Every year like clockwork, Jax paid a visit to an oncologist.

Kade scrolled back further, tracing the charges. Surgery treatments. Bone marrow transplant. A devilish smirk consumed Kade's face. It looked like the rising star was weaker than he let on. His own body had betrayed him.

"Looks like our ten second champ has been hiding something from his fans," Kade murmured to himself, impossibly pleased. "Wouldn't it be a pity if word of this got out before his big fight? What would the world think if they knew we were sending cancer-boy up against the champ? The Killer's fans won't stand for it.”

Kade sat back in his chair, smirking at the computer screen as he twisted back and forth in his office chair. The scenario played out in his head, perfect beyond his wildest dreams.

"It's a good thing all of this information is strictly confidential." Kade forwarded the information about Jax's medical history to his alias account he used in forums where he wanted to stay anonymous.

"But I suppose if the information is online, nothing is really all that confidential. How easy it is to accidentally forward an email to someone these days?”

"Good thing the owner and head promoter of the UFL doesn't interact at all with any of the fan sites, isn't it?"

A single click of the mouse sent the email out into the world, seeding McCarthy's demise in a matter of microseconds.

"Let’s see what Nicole thinks of her knight in shining armor when she finds out he's a disease on legs, drowning in debt. Let’s see how much that slut like’s him when she finds out he’s weak and poor."

There’s no way the fans were gonna support ‘chemo-king’ McCarthy against the champ. He’d half to back out of the fight. Nicole would fall away once she found out the truth. Kade was familiar with women like her, and they weren’t interested in struggling losers. They wanted their men on top.

And that would leave only him. She wouldn't have the spine to resist crawling back to him with her head down... and her ass in the air.

The UFL would recover from Jax's loss. A new star would rise. The event would go on. Sure, they might lose some viewers from the chaos of changing challengers twice, Kade knew that they’d still run a profit on the match.

And when that happened, when all was said and done, he'd ride Nicole until she was raw, and when she begged for more, he'd dump her ass and watch her grovel. From there, she'd be his toy to use and abuse in any way he wanted, just like all the others.

No one refused Kade Holland and got away with it.

I
t wasn't
the shrill ringing of an alarm that woke Nicole, but the melody of her cell phone. Cellos. Once upon a time, she'd set the romantic concerto as her ringtone for Kade when she thought they had a shot. Now that she knew the real him, the beautiful music sounded sinister.

A blind, groping hand reached for the phone on her bedside table, and she answered.

"Hello?" Voice creaking with sleep, Nicole rolled over and curled up into a ball. Through the dark an arm reached forward and hooked around her, drawing her close to a solid, bare chest. Jax's sexy musk had worked its way into her sheets, but there was nothing like the scent of his skin as he pulled her close. Nicole smiled and cuddled closer.

"Where the fuck are you?" Kade's typical anger was absent, replaced with something that sounded a lot like fear. Nicole opened her eyes and frowned, waking up fast.

"What do you mean?"

"We're in the middle of a goddamn crisis, and I needed you here about two hours ago. Take a taxi in, tell him to cut as many corners as he needs to for a Benjamin, and I'll foot the bill."

"What's happening?" Nicole turned her head to look towards the digital display on her alarm. The red numbers read well through the darkness, it was a little after five in the morning, and she didn't start until nine.

"Hang up the phone," Jax mumbled, half asleep. The strong arms around her tightened just a little, possessive. "N'm still tired..."

"There's been a breach in database security, and files have been leaked. No one's sure how much information has been sent out, but we know that whoever hacked the system got news about McCarthy that is fucking everything over, hard. It's all over the public forums and fan sites. People are freaking out online."

"What kind of information?" Nicole's eyes were wide, heart thumping with fear.
What kind of secrets? What was Jax hiding from her that would outrage the fans so much? After she'd gone and opened her heart, was she about to be hurt again?

"The hackers got a hold of his medical records, and it turns out McCarthy has cancer. Had cancer. I don't fucking know. Everyone is saying so many different things I don't know what's truth and what isn't. But what everyone is saying is that sending a rookie kid with cancer up against the champ is an insult. Nicole, it's bad. I need you here right now so we can handle this shitstorm together and be ready for nine to roll around so we can get the team in full recovery mode. If the UFL doesn't release a statement and a battle plan soon about all these allegations, we're fucking sunk."

"Oh my god." Nicole rubbed at her eyes and squirmed from Jax's arms. On bare feet she padded across the room and grabbed a bra and underwear from her drawer. Jax had never wanted his past known because he was afraid people would pity him, but the reality of the situation was even worse.

If the fans turned against him, if they believed that Jax wasn't capable, there'd be no option but to replace him with someone else, or else risk an influx of returned tickets and mediocre pay-per-view results. It would mean Jax's career was over. It would mean he'd never had a shot to pay back his mother's bills and care for her like he wanted to.

"How long until you get here?" Kade asked. It was so bad that Kade wasn't even making an attempt to be pissed at her. They were in a tough spot, and there was a lot more on the line than just some lost revenue.

"Half an hour max. I'm getting dressed right now."

As the conversation continued, Jax stirred further from his sleep. Now propped up on his elbows, he watched as Nicole moved through the dark room in her search for clean clothes appropriate for the office.

"Nicole, what's going on?"

"I'll see you soon," Kade said. The call ended. As soon as it did, Nicole tossed her phone onto the foot of the bed and turned her full attention towards finding a clean pair of pants. Dread anchored in her stomach, the words barbed as they rose up her throat, she needed to let Jax know what was going on without being too harsh. This was his career on the line, and he deserved to know what was happening.

"There was a leak last night or this morning," she said, "and some people on the internet found out about your leukemia. They've posted it all over the place online, and fans are freaking out that the UFL would send someone with cancer into a championship match. They're acting like it’s some kind of insult to Kidwell."

"Holy shit," Jax mumbled. He was out of bed in a second, energized instantly but unsure of what to do. "Who the fuck would do something like that? I didn't want anyone to know. God fucking damn it!"

"I'm going into the office right now to attempt to smooth this whole thing over," Nicole told him. She'd located a pair of grey slacks that were clean, and fastened the button of their fly as she spoke. "There’s a couple of things I need you to do to make sure that this doesn't get any worse. First, and most important, stay off of the internet. Don't reply to any comments or any posts, because it's just going to dig us in deeper. Today, the internet doesn't exist. I don't want you to read anything about what they're saying about you, and I don't want you to even think about putting anyone in their place."

"People are talking shit about me and you don't want me to defend myself?" Jax seethed. "That's not what being a fighter's about!"

"If you want to keep being a fighter, it's exactly what you have to do." Nicole hooked the back of her bra and pulled a clean blouse from the hanger in her closet. "If any reporters come to track you down today, I need you to say no comment. Don't give them anything, because they'll twist it and turn it against you. Let me handle this. I promise that today is going to be spent doing everything I can to make sure things go back to normal."

"What about training?" Jax asked. "What about the match?"

"For now, keep training like nothing changed." All of this was so sudden, and so poorly timed, Nicole was surprised she was this composed at all. Even with Jax's career on the line, she wasn't freaking out. Her ability to think on her feet made Nicole feel more mature and ready to take on the life of an adult than she ever had before. She was ready to move on from the easygoing party lifestyle. This turn of events proved it.

"Like nothing has changed," Jax grunted, half in humor, half in disgust. "There are people gonna strip me of everything I've worked so hard for, and I've just gotta keep going like nothing is different."

"And that brings me to the last thing I need you to do," Nicole said. Button by button she did up her blouse. This morning there was no time for showering or makeup; Jax's scent would cling to her skin all day, a constant reminder of who she fought for. "I need you to take all that anger you're feeling, all that hurt, and channel it into your training. I need you to go hard in the ring and get it all out, so when you snap out of this and when the fight with Kidwell does happen, you'll be ready for him. I'm not going to let you down. If this is my fight to win, I'm going to win it for you."

Jax, who'd been pacing restlessly in agitation, turned to look at Nicole in full. With the bedroom lights still off, all Nicole could make out through the darkness was the general shape of him. Strong, broad chest. Defined arms. Straight hips. All of those shapes worked in unison to see him across the room until he stood in front of her. One rough hand traced the length of her jaw, and the next Jax's thin lips had captured hers in a rough kiss that stole her breath away.

"And like you believe in me," he uttered, "I believe in you. Go out there and knock 'em dead, Washington. If there's anyone who can do it, it's you."

There was no doubt in her mind that he meant what he said. Nicole beamed, confidence inflated by his praise.

"I swear I'll make you proud."

And then she was out the door, on the phone with a taxi company, making arrangements to get her to the biggest fight of her life. It was do or die, Jax's career at stake. If Nicole didn't think on her feet, his image would never recover.

But a plan was already forming in the back of her mind. By the end of the day all the media needed to stage his comeback would be up online. All she could do was hope it would be enough.

T
his time
when Jax's phone buzzed with an incoming call, he answered it.

"Whaddafuck is wrong with you, you fucking dipshit?" Eric snarled. "We just talked about how you need to buckle down and live in the gym, then you take off for a press conference and never come back. I fucking waited for you. You think I appreciate being blown off?"

"I'm sorry, coach." Dressed in only his boxers, still out of his mind with adrenaline, Jax collected his clothes from where he'd thrown them on Nicole’s floor. "It was uh, yesterday just wasn't good. Have you heard about what's been happening since yesterday? With me?"

"I just pried my fucking eyeballs open and gave you another call to see if you were still alive," Eric retorted. "I haven't looked at anything or heard anything. What's going on that's so ground shattering that you couldn't make it back in to training?"

One way or another, Eric was going to find out. Jax swallowed and steeled himself to deliver the message. Now that Nicole had left the apartment, he'd cooled down a little and realized the gravity of his situation.

"Some hacker got into the database at the UFL and pulled up dirt on me. Found out that I had childhood leukemia and posted it all online, according to what I've heard. People are saying that sending a guy weak with cancer up against the champ is an insult, and they're try'na get me yanked from the match to pit Kidwell against someone more worthy."

"Goddamn," Eric breathed. "I had no idea. You okay now, Jax? You healthy?"

"I haven't had cancer in twenty years. I'm fine. But everyone else is blowing things out of proportion and making a big deal outta nothing. If they don't fix this at the UFL, my career's over. No one's gonna take the cancer kid seriously."

"Yeah," Eric mumbled. "Yeah, I can see that. But you know what we can do about it? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. So I want to see your ass in my gym, in the ring, as soon as you can get here. While the bigwigs in corporate figure out if you'll sink or swim, we'll keep going like the match is on."

"That's what I was banking on," Jax said. "I'm getting dressed now, and I'll be down to hit the gym in forty-five. I've got the head of media uh, something-or-other, from corporate on my side. And I've got her word that this is all gonna turn out fine, that they're gonna fix this for me."

There was momentary silence. Jax wedged his phone against his ear with his shoulder as he pulled on his shorts and the sweats he wore over them. Being alone in Nicole's apartment felt strange.
Fuck this whole day was strange.

"I know it's tempting to think positive, but I think you need to brace yourself for what might happen. If things don't shape up the way you want them to, I want you to know that you're no less of a fighter than you were yesterday, or last week, or whenever. All of this is superficial bullshit that doesn't make one difference when it comes to how skilled you are at the sport."

"Thanks, coach," Jax said. Shorts and sweats on, all that was left was to pull on his t-shirt and hoodie before he was set to go. Nicole was already long gone, on her way to dig him out from beneath the pile of shit he'd been thrown into. "It means a lot to me, it really does. I'll see you in the gym soon, okay?"

"You got it, kid," Eric replied. The call ended, and Jax stuffed the phone into his pocket. Nicole was right. Every injustice he felt, every uncertainty, every ounce of anger would only strengthen him. Today at the gym he was going to give it everything he had, and then some. Cancer didn't define him. It never did. Other people's words didn't change him. One way or the other he'd get through this, and even if it meant starting fresh in a new career, Jax had the will to keep at it until he found success. The kids at the hospital. Santino. His mother and the bills he'd burdened her with. Nicole...

No matter what, that happy ending would be his. Jax pulled on his shirt and hoodie and headed for the door. The future waited. It was his job to reach out and grasp it.