Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3) (26 page)

“That wasn’t a very therapeutic thing to say, Violet.”

Seriously? He was mocking her! The bastard was actually baiting her, and she was falling for it. “Well, it was certainly therapeutic for me,” she snapped.

He looked completely unfazed as she sat there unraveling like a
ball of yarn. Damn him . . . “Why are you doing this?” she challenged.

The question seemed to catch him off guard. “Doing what?”

“You’re trying to make me mad at you by deliberately saying hurtful things.”

He took a step toward her, then stopped. “When I tell you to leave something alone, I mean it. When we are outside your office, do not try to psychoanalyze me, Violet. I am not your patient, and I’m certainly not your pet science project.”

“I’m not treating you like one! I just want you to talk to me! That’s what normal people do when they care about each other, Nikko! They talk, they share their feelings. It’s called communication. You should really try it sometime.” Vi climbed off the bed and took two steps toward him, putting herself nose to chest. Shit, he was big. Tipping her head back, she glared up at him. “And the next time you call me a whore or even hint at a like reference,” she snapped, poking him in the chest with her index finger, “you and I are finished. You got that? You can see yourself out. I need a shower.”

She brushed past him and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Nikko’s barked curse rang out, sharp and self-damning. It was little consolation that he felt like shit for the way he acted—he should, dammit.

Vi took her time showering and getting ready, giving Nikko plenty of time to be gone before she left the bathroom. Once she’d forced Nikko to the background of her mind, she was hit with a bitch slap of reality when she realized (a)
Oh, no, I forgot all about Pen,
and (b)
I’m a horrible friend.
Without Bacardi to lapse her judgment, she felt terrible for taking off and leaving her friend without so much as a word, and with Pen’s “date,” no less. She’d done more than that . . . What was she going to tell her?
Sorry I bailed on you without saying good-bye? Sorry I slept with the guy you’ve been fawning over for the past few weeks? Sorry I’m such a horrible friend?
Yep, that pretty much summed it up.

V
iolet did her walk of shame up the steps to Pen’s house, forcing one foot in front of the other as she rehearsed what she was going to say. Her stomach rolled, knotted with anxiety and soured by the remnants of Bacardi.

Taking a deep breath, Vi raised her hand and knocked on the door. The seconds ticked by as she waited for her friend to answer. She knew Pen was home. Her car was parked in the driveway. When she didn’t answer, Vi knocked a little louder. She wasn’t going to leave, not until she’d had the chance to apologize. If Pen refused to accept it, then there wasn’t anything she could do about it, but she at least had to try to do the right thing.

Well, the right thing would have been to tell her friend the truth in the first place. The right thing would have been not to have sex with her date—twice. The right thing would have been not to leave her friend alone in a club where anyone could have—

The door opened and Vi’s apology died on her lips. Standing there wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers was
her
blind date. She tried not to stare at the hard-muscled fighter who was a welterweight version of what had crawled out of
her
bed this morning, but, holy hell, the man was undeniably handsome with a body any woman would have to be blind not to notice.

“Oh . . .” she stammered, casting her gaze to the ground. “I didn’t know . . . Is umm . . . Is Pen here?”

“Yeah.” Kyle’s sleep-roughened voice and sexy bedhead confirmed why it’d taken him so long to answer the door. “She’s in the shower. You wanna come in?” He stepped out of the doorway, giving her room to pass. As she walked by him, Vi caught the scent of Pen’s perfume on the fighter. He closed the door, and she could hear the scuff of his bare feet following her as she entered the foyer. “You want some coffee?” he asked, veering for the kitchen. “No offense, but you look like you could use a cup.”

Vi changed direction and followed him into the kitchen. He set the pot in the sink and turned on the water, letting it fill while he opened and closed cupboards, looking for the coffee. “It’s on your far left,” she told him, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“Thanks.”

He shut off the water and she sat there silently watching him pull out a filter and line the basket before dumping in a lot of grounds. She tried to reconcile this turn of events in her mind. What did this mean? Was Pen now seeing Kyle? Would she still be pissed about Nikko?—about Vi bailing with him?

“I’ll be right back,” he said, scrubbing his hand over his tawny hair as he shuffled past her. When he returned a minute later, he was wearing last night’s clothes with the addition of a lot of wrinkles. He headed right for the coffeepot and grabbed two cups from the shelf below the cupboard. “Black?”

“That’s fine.”

He returned to the table with two mugs and offered her one, taking a sip from his before he sat down across from her. If the man was at all embarrassed to be caught here, he gave no indication of it. “So, you and Nikko, huh?”

Vi almost choked on her coffee. She winced as she swallowed it down, feeling the burn all the way to her stomach.
Okaaay
. . .
direct and to the point. So much for keeping them a secret.
Since Nikko had brought Kyle with him last night, she had to hope he could be trusted not to say anything to the CFA. “So, you and Pen, huh?” she shot back, deflecting Kyle’s question. Yeah, she was good at that, too.

He shrugged. “I like her. She’s fun.”

“That’s what she says. She’s the fun version of me,” Vi added, steering the conversation to a safer topic than Nikko.

Kyle chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You were slamming down the Bacardi pretty good last night. I bet you gave Del Toro a run for his money.”

She lifted her mug and took a sip, trying not to grin at the easygoing fighter and hoping the cup would hide the heat burning her cheeks.

“Listen, I’m not going to say anything to anyone. What’s going on between you two is your business.”

“Why would you do that?”

“One, I like my teeth. Two, Del Toro’s my friend. And three, I think you’re good for him.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “I’ve known him for a while now. And I’ll be the first to tell you, he’s not an easy person to be around. Guy can be a downright dick sometimes.”

She swallowed back the bubble of laughter with a swig of coffee.
Dick
was putting it mildly.

“But you didn’t know him before. I’ve seen the changes in him since he started going to you for therapy. We all have. I don’t give a shit whether it’s personally or professionally. All I care about is that he gets better. God knows, I haven’t been able to help him.”

“Sure you have. You’ve been sparring with him after hours.”

Kyle’s gaze shot to hers over his cup. “You know about that, huh?”

She nodded. “Why do you think I’ve been fighting so hard to get his sparring privileges back?” Vi hesitated to ask, but since they were on the subject of Nikko, she decided to dig a little and try to find out just how much Nikko’s friend knew about his past. At this point she was desperate for any bit of information that would help her uncover the mystery. “Does he ever talk to you about Afghanistan? Do you know what happened?”

Kyle shook his head. “He doesn’t talk about MARSOC.”

“Is there anyone who would know? I’m trying to get him to open up to me, but he won’t talk about it. But if I knew what happened, I know I could help him.”

“If anyone would know, it’s Disco.”

“Who’s Disco?”

“Aiden ‘Disco Stick’ Kruze? That’s right, you haven’t been here very long, have you? He’s Del Toro’s friend and actual sparring partner.”

“Great. Do you know how I can get ahold of him?”

“Can’t. He’s on vacay. Up and got married and took a leave from the CFA. No one knows where he is right now.”

Well, that was a lot of unhelpful. Every angle she tried to explore was a dead end. Again, Barry came to mind, the inevitability sitting in her gut like a lead weight. How far was she willing to go? What was she willing to risk to help Nikko?

Before she could question Kyle any more, Pen’s voice rang out from the bedroom. “Where’d you go, Scott? I’m ready for some of that ground and pound you were talkin’ about . . .”

He gave Vi a wicked grin, not even having the decency to look abashed, and raised his cup in salute. Vi rolled her eyes and shook her head, unable to hold back her grin.

“I’m in the kitchen—with Dr. Summers.”

“Vi? What’s
she
doing here?”

Vi couldn’t distinguish the surprise in her tone from super pissed, and the knot of guilt coiled tighter in her stomach. Footsteps echoed through the living room, and then there she was, looking fresh faced and gorgeous as ever. Her damp curls were pulled into a topknot. She wore a black tank top—no bra—and black-and-white checkered sleep shorts.

“Hey, Vi. Everything okay?”

Everything okay? That’s it? She’d been beating herself up all morning, freaking out over what a lousy friend she’d been, fully expecting the wrath of Pen to come crashing down on her, and she gets,
Hey, Vi. Everything okay?

Pen shuffled over to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. As she got to the table, Kyle stood, pulled out his chair, and offered it to her. “Sorry, gotta go, babe.” Before she sat, he dipped his head and planted a quick kiss on her mouth. “I’m meeting Nikko at the gym to lift before training. We’ll have to save your next grappling lesson for some other time.”

“See ya . . . Call me,” Pen said as an afterthought, tipping her head to the side and watching Kyle’s ass as he walked out.

Vi was a little annoyed she’d beaten herself up all morning when Pen was clearly no worse for the wear. Once Kyle’s ass was out of sight and the front door had opened and closed, Pen turned her attention back to Vi and casually sipped her coffee. Violet must have been scowling because Pen gave her a funny look after a moment and said, “What?”

“What the hell, Pen? I came over to apologize for bailing on you and just about shit myself when Kyle answered the door.”

The Cheshire Cat couldn’t have grinned any bigger. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“
I’m
welcome? For what?”

“For your birthday present. I bet Nikko gave it to you good, huh? I knew you wanted him.”

Holy shit
. . . Vi closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as she prayed for patience. “You knew? Then why did you throw yourself at him all night?”

“To prove to you that you wanted him. Please, Vi, it was so obvious you were into him. I was just pissed you kept lying to me about it. I knew if I pushed you hard enough, you’d snap.”

Oh, she was going to snap, all right. “You kissed him!”

Pen shrugged. “That was for funzies. He really is a gorgeous piece of male flesh, isn’t he?”

“I can’t decide if you’re the craziest ‘wingman’ a girl could have or a complete bitch. I’ve been worried sick you were going to be mad at me for taking off with your date and well . . . you know.”

“I am pissed—pissed that you’ve been lying to me for weeks about not wanting Nikko when it was sooo obvious you did. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you finally went for it, but WTF, Vi, you’re my best friend. And what do you mean you’re surprised to find Kyle here? Do you even know me at all? What bizarro universe do you live in that I would pass up the opportunity to bang Kyle ‘The freaking Killer’ Scott?”

She must not have shown the proper amount of wow, because Pen rolled her eyes and said, “Really, Vi, you seriously need to start watching
Unchained
. This guy is the shit in welterweight right now.”

“You know he’s a person, right, Pen? He’s more than just a fight record and a title shot.”

She uttered a snort of disgust. “Scott’s a big boy, Vi. He knows the score.”

“Does he? Because I think he might really like you.” Here was the thing about Pen—she was gorgeous, tons of fun, and could party like it was 1999 every day of the year. All the guys loved her, but that woman was a total commitment-phobe—and with good reason. She had serious daddy issues, the kind that nightmares were made of, and that unresolved shit in her past had messed her up bad. The minute Pen began to even sense the latest guy she was banging was getting too serious, she’d bail faster than a cat on a hot tin roof.

Pen’s smile turned pensive and she nibbled her bottom lip. “You
really think so?”

Vi shrugged. “Maybe . . .” She’d tried to talk to Pen about her commitment issues multiple times, but she was about as stubborn as Nikko.
Guess when it came to people she cared about, her skills as a therapist
were an epic fail. “You’ll never know if you don’t give him a chance.”

“I said
call me
.”

“I know what your
call me
means.”

“We’ll see. Anyway, I’m starved. Let’s get out of here, and I’ll let you buy me breakfast. This Saturday morning is too gorgeous to waste sitting around here.”

Subject closed. Vi could take a hint.

“I’ll drive, and you can tell me all about your wild night with Nikko.”

Returning Pen’s impish grin, she stood and carried her cup over to the sink. “You remember me telling you about that guy I met on the plane flying out here, and the hot sex we had in the bathroom?”

“Yeah . . . Was it hotter than that?”

“That’s the guy.”

“What? You’re shitting me, Vi!
That’s
the guy?” Pen started to laugh, a hard, pee-your-pants belly laugh. “I can’t believe you were sitting next to Nikko Del Toro on a freaking airplane and you had no idea who he was. And you propositioned him for sex! OMG, who does that?”

“Someone who didn’t know who he was, obviously.” It was kinda funny when she thought about it.

“And you still didn’t figure it out until he walked through your office door? That’s hilarious!”

“It didn’t feel so hilarious at the time,” she grumbled. “How would I know, Pen? I don’t watch MMA. I’ve hardly ever gone down to the gym, and I’ve only used the back entrance by the offices.”

Pen was still laughing and snagged a napkin off the table to dry her eyes.

“Are you about done? I’m starting to rethink this whole buying-you-breakfast thing.”

“Okay, okay . . . I’m done,” she promised, holding up her hand to pledge.

Vi knew better. They weren’t even close to being done.