Fighting for Flight (25 page)

I’m undefeated because I go ape shit when I get hit.
It’s impossible to reason with the primitive part of my brain.
That, along with the roar of the crowd and shouts of encouragement
from my team, is a violent combination, a winning combination.
Fuckin’ hell, if that isn’t the problem.

I’m going to have to be completely retrained. I have
one week to figure out how the fuck to lose a fight.

I grab my new cell phone that was delivered and
punch in a few numbers.

“Blake, meet me at the training center in ten.”

Ending the call, I head out.

Blake is a red belt jiu-jitsu master. He earned the
name Blake “The Snake” at seventeen when he constricted a guy in a
cage fight and had him out cold in less than thirty seconds. If he
can’t help me, I’m fucked.

I pull up to the UFL training center right behind
Blake.

“Hey, man. You ready to figure this shit out?” He
heads my way through the lot.

“Yeah. I have a few ideas. Wanted to go over a
couple techniques with you. That cool?”

Blake shrugs his shoulders. “Whatever helps. This
shit’s fucked. Still can’t believe you’re,” he looks around to make
sure we’re alone in the parking lot, “really gonna do this.”

I lean against my truck. “You sure you’re up for
this? I don’t want to drag you into my shit. Not gonna lie though,
I could use your help.”

He rips his sunglasses from his face and leans in.
“Don’t start this shit with me. You fuckin’ know I got your back.
I’ll give you that one, but you say that kinda fucked up crap
again, I’ll kick your ass myself.”

I suppress a grin. “Then let’s do this.” I give him
a chin lift and we walk to the center’s doors.

Once geared up, we hit the octagon. It’s quiet, just
a few guys working at the heavy bags a dozen yards away.

“The key is to avoid this motherfucker’s jaw like a
two-dollar hooker,” he says, then cringes. “Sorry, bad joke.”

I shake my head, thinking I may just have to slide
one solid punch in during this training session.

“Right, I know that, fuckwad. What I want to know is
how the hell do I keep from flippin’ the switch on his ass when he
punches me?”

“Easy. Submissions. Take him to the ground and lock
him down. Milk the clock until the ref breaks it up.”

That’s not a bad idea. If I can get him in a solid
hold where he can’t get the ground and pound, I should be able to
buy some time.

“That might work. Let’s work on some submissions
that keep his fists away from my face.”

Blake nods.

Without time on our side, we get to it. Modifying a
few key holds isn’t easy, but we manage to come up with a couple
strategies. A few take-downs and pinning techniques will help, but
I’m going to need more.

“I need to go at least three rounds, and I can’t
just sit on the mat holdin’ him like a newborn baby. The fans are
expecting some stand-up. If I keep my punches to body shots during
the stand-up, that should help.”

Blake shakes his head. “Yeah, until he strikes back
and hits you hard enough to bring out the beast, but not knock you
out! I’m telling you I’ve seen you fight. You need to stay grounded
as much as possible. Protect your head, and keep that fine piece of
ass in the forefront of your mind. Then, pray for a miracle.”

And now, I remember why I’m friends with Blake.

After a couple hours of training, I hear a voice
call my name. I peer through the octagon chain link to see Taylor
Gibbs, the owner of the UFL. He’s in his usual dark suit, wearing
his usual schooled expression.

“Taylor. What’s up?”

“Need a word with you in my office when you’re
done.”

“Give me five.”

He nods and walks away.

I turn to Blake. “You know what this is about?”

Blake looks at the space Taylor recently vacated
then back to me. “No clue.” He shrugs.

We make plans to continue training tomorrow, and I
head to Taylor’s office.

He probably wants to talk to me about the fight, but
I feel like a kid called to the principal’s office. There’s no way
he could know about my deal with Dominick. Dominick isn’t stupid
enough to go flapping his gums. Blake and Raven are the only other
ones that know. Blake seemed just as caught off guard as I was, and
Raven, well, there’s no way she’s talking.

His no-good assistant isn’t at her desk, so I walk
in his office without knocking. It’s an asshole thing to do, but I
don’t have the patience for social politeness.

Taylor looks up from his computer screen. “Jonah,
have a seat.”

I stay standing. “What’s this about?”

He lifts his eyebrows and nods to the chair in front
of me. I sit.

“We just signed a deal for a joint campaign with the
female MMA fighting league.”

“Okay. What does that have to do with me?”

“Not much, just a few cross promotions, photo
shoots, magazine covers—stuff like that.”

I nod. It’s not uncommon that the UFL use me for
promotional shit. I still don’t see why this warrants a visit to
the boss’s office.

“I’m going to need you to be seen with their
headlining fighter, Camille Fisher. Won’t be much, just the
pre-fight formal dinner, and we’ll get her seats by your corner for
the title fight. After that, a few sightings out at the clubs ought
to do it.”

Pretending to date a girl I don’t even know so that
the suits can pull off a campaign? Hell no.

“No. I’m not doing that.”

His eyes narrow and he leans forward, resting his
elbows on the desk. “No? Why not.”

“I’m dating someone. I’ll be bringing her to the
formal dinner, and she’ll have my seats at the fight.”

With a chuckle, he leans back into his chair,
relaxed. “That it? Surely a few dates with another girl won’t
bother her. Tell her it’s for work. Besides, have you seen Camille?
She’s hot. I’m doing you a favor, my friend.”

What kind of man does he think I am? The kind that
fucks girls whose names he doesn’t know without a second thought.
Not anymore.

“Look, Taylor, I want to help you out. I’ll do photo
shoots, press junkets, whatever, but I’m not cheating on my girl
even if it’s staged for publicity. Have Del Toro do it.”

“She doesn’t want Del Toro. She’s requested you
personally.”

I shake my head, completely solid, unwavering.

“Who’s this girl who’s got you by the balls?” he
asks with genuine curiosity.

My head tilts slightly as I fix my stare on him.
“Don’t see how that’s your business.”

“You’ve been fighting for me for eight years, and
I’ve never even heard a rumor about you getting serious with a
girl. Now, just weeks before your title fight, a fight that is
going to make me a lot of money, you get serious?”

I shrug. Where in the hell is he going with
this?

“No bullshit, I’m worried. I need you on your game,
no distractions. I think it’s in the best interest of the
organization for you to put your relationship on hold until after
the fight.”

I sit forward, leaning one elbow on my knee. This
guy’s got his head shoved up his own ass if he thinks I’d give up
Raven to please him.

“Haven’t had a dad since I was twelve, Taylor.
Managed to make it this far without one. Don’t need one now.”

“I’m not speaking as a parent, Jonah. I’m speaking
as your boss.”

“Don’t remember seeing you dictating who I date in
my contract.”

“I can’t force you, but I can advise you.”

“Consider me advised. We done?”

“No. Don’t forget about the press conference.”

“That’s what I have a publicist for. Now, we
done?”

He studies my face for a few long seconds then
shrugs.

I stand to leave, but turn just before walking out
the door. “Let your assistant know I’ll be bringing a date to the
pre-fight dinner.”

His eyes dart to mine and narrow a fraction. I smile
back before walking out.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

~*~

Raven

“Hey, Dog.” I place his food on the bottom step and
scratch behind his ears. He purrs as he eats. I smile at the
content sound, knowing I’d be making the same one if I could.

After last night, I’ve been walking around in a
perpetual state of contentment, robbing me of my focus.

“Yeah, I know how you feel. Feels good to be taken
care of.” I rub Dog from head to tail and back. “Good kitty.”

My phone rings, scaring Dog and sending him down the
alley and behind a dumpster.

“Hey, Eve.” I take the conversation inside, hoping
my absence will bring Dog back to finish his food.

“How are you? I’m so sorry about last night, I felt
like shit after you left. It looked like you’d been crying, and I
should have sent Vince home and had you stay. What happened?” She
speaks quickly, whether from guilt or concern, I don’t know.

“Oh, um,” I clear my throat, “Jonah and I just had a
little fight, but we’re okay now. Just a misunderstanding.”

I bite my lip and contemplate telling her about
Vince. My loyalty to her is warring with my need to protect
her.

“Oh, phew. I was so worried after you left. I called
your cell, but you didn’t answer. Vince kept telling me that you
were probably okay. He said if you weren’t you would call.”

Nice of daddy’s little henchman to comfort my best
friend.

“How are things going with you and Vince?” I wait
for her answer, ready to read into every word, to feel her out
before I decide on full disclosure.

“Pretty good. He’s still so private about stuff, but
now that he’s met you, I think he’ll start to come around.”

Private or big fat, disgusting liar?

I can’t sit back and watch her get used. She needs
to know. “Eve, there’s something I need to—”

“I know what you’re going to say, Rave. He’s really
affectionate, and . . . sometimes it comes across as kinda pervy or
whatever. I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable last night. He
says he can’t keep his hands off me.” I can hear the smile in her
voice.

Yuck.
I fight the urge to shove my finger
down my throat like a surly twelve year old.

“That’s not what—”

“Enough about boys. I need my girl time. We’re going
out tonight. My old waitress from Nori just got hired at Club Six.
She said she’d put us on the list and told me if I slip the bouncer
a fifty he’d let us in without ID’s.”

“Tonight? Um—”

“Come on! I’m so sick of the under twenty-one clubs.
This is our chance to go to a real club!”

“Okay.” Unable to think of an excuse fast enough and
also missing my friend like crazy, I agree to go out with her.

“Come over after work and we can get ready at my
house.”

This has play-dress-up-with-Raven written all over
it.

“Sounds great,” I say with the enthusiasm of a
snail.

“Whatever, Debbie Downer. It’ll be fun and besides .
. . I miss you.”

“I miss you too. See you after work.”

Perfect. I’ll tell Eve about Vince after she’s had a
couple drinks. That’ll help soften the blow. And being in a public
place should keep her from getting too emotional.
Ugh, who am I
kidding? This is going to be a nightmare.

Raven

“Time to lock up, Ray!”

At the sound of Guy’s voice, I slide out from under
the Honda CR-V. Shifting my eyes to the clock, my jaw drops at the
time. Six o’clock.
Darn it!

It got busy at the garage, and I never got a chance
to text Jonah to let him know about my plans for tonight. He said
he had to train, but that he was looking forward to having me back
in his arms. My body warms all over at the mere thought of more sex
with Jonah.

I grab my phone and see I have one missed call and a
text.

Training then phone interviews all afternoon. Quick
meeting then I’ll be home. See you tonight. xJ

“Ray! Quit draggin’ ass. Shut ’er down.”

“Yeah, G. I heard you.”

Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I close down
the garage and race to my studio.

I throw my dirty coveralls in the hamper and strip
down to jump in the shower. My foot taps impatiently, waiting for
the water to heat.

Crud!
I didn’t call Jonah. I wrap a towel
around my naked body and fish my phone from my coveralls.

Sitting on the bed, I press send and place the phone
to my ear.

“Hey, baby. Where are you?” His deep voice comes
through the phone and a smile pulls at my lips.

“Hi. I’m at my studio. It was crazy busy at the
garage today, and I didn’t get your text until just now.”

“That’s cool. Grab your shit and come over.”

My finger traces the swirling pattern of my towel at
my thigh. “I won’t be able to come over tonight. I made plans with
Eve.” My stomach bottoms out. I do want girl time, but I’d be lying
if I said I didn’t want Jonah time more.

After explaining the evening’s agenda, I sit
patiently waiting for his response.

“Club Six. Just you and your girl.” He’s not asking.
It’s more like he’s saying the words so they sink in.

“Yeah. I’ll stay with Eve tonight because we’ll
probably be out late, and I don’t want to wake you.”

“Hm.”

Is he mad?

“Look, here’s the deal. I’m stoked you want to hang
with your girl tonight. But you at some nightclub, looking as hot
as you are, dressed to kill, without me? No. I’m also not thrilled
that you’re putting yourself at risk by going to a club when you
aren’t twenty-one. And there’s the DomiDick shit we have to worry
about.”

His possessiveness is fierce and I freakin’ love it.
My entire body floods with the warm gushy feeling that makes my
toes curl and my belly flip.

As a child, no one ever cared what I did. Never
cared where I went, who I was with. I never had a curfew, never had
the sex talk, the don’t-do-drugs talk. I was treated like an adult
on my own ever since I could remember.