Pushing the Limits (19 page)

Dane took it and opened it, but didn't read. “How did you get this? Were you snooping around the Consuelos home as well?”

She swallowed hard. In truth, she had been, after all. “Josh gave it to me this afternoon. He said he wanted me to use it for my story, to help other fighters.” The tightening in her chest that was never too far away when she thought about the little boy and his mom gripped her and she looked away.

Dane's expression had softened from one of anger to one of hopeless defeat. He was silent for a long moment, before clearing his throat. “If . . . uh, this is all you came for, then . . .”

It wasn't. Not even close. But she couldn't bring herself to ask for his forgiveness again. He'd made it clear it was over between them. She straightened her spine and lifted her head. “Yeah, I'll go now.” Moving past him, his familiar scent a kick to the gut, resisting every urge to touch him, she opened the door. “'Bye, Dane.”

“'Bye, Colby.”

* * *

Damn it.

As he heard the door close behind her, he resisted the urge to go after her or punch something. Neither would do any good and either would only result in pain. His pain.

And he had enough of that going on already.

He sat on the edge of his bed, the letter in his hand, thinking about what she'd said. She was doing the story . . . Soon, everyone would know the truth and it didn't provide him any relief.

He wondered if the other thing she said was true. Had Consuelos taken the kick to die? He knew the answer was in his hand, but he wasn't sure he was ready to read it. He wasn't sure he needed to. He knew it was true. The look on the man's face before he went down had always haunted him, but now he understood it.

He unfolded the sheet of paper and the sight of photocopied tearstains brought tears to his own eyes. The words swam together on the page as he read.

Dear Little Man,

I don't want you to worry about a thing. Soon you will have your surgery and your heart will once again be as strong as your will. And I promise one day, you will achieve all of the dreams we talked about. Just don't tell your mom about your dream to become a race car driver just yet . . . she needs more time.

I know you've heard us fighting a lot lately, but I want you to know that things are going to get better. And like I promised your mom, this fight will be my last.

I'm hanging up the gloves for our family's future and I need you to be strong, no matter if I win or lose tonight. I need you to promise to take care of your mom and to be the little fighter that I know you are.

I love you.

Dad

Dane folded the note and tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in his throat. Consuelos had thrown the fight, had given up the game plan, hoping his death would result from the fight and his family would be taken care of after he was gone.

He closed his eyes as he lay back on the bed. Colby was doing the right thing telling this story and shutting down the organization. He knew that. Even the Consuelos family wanted that. Maybe them most of all.

But he struggled to forgive her for lying to him, for using him. He'd been in love with her. Hell, he still was, that was painfully obvious by the way his body had begged him to go to her and wrap his arms around her and never let go. He just wasn't sure he could let his guard down again. The one person he'd ever truly trusted had been the worst betrayer of all.

He clutched the note in his hand.

At the same time, she'd been the only one who'd been able to give him the closure and the redemption he'd desperately sought for so long.

How was it possible the same woman could break his heart so completely, but be the only one who could piece it back together?

The apprehension Dane had experienced before, during the walk-through of The Joint, was nothing compared to the numbing fear crippling him now.

He saw nothing. Heard nothing, as he made his way toward the cage. He'd expected the sound of his walk-out music to make him feel like throwing up, but it was worse. He didn't even hear it. His mind couldn't settle on one thought long enough to process anything, and as he climbed the cage stairs, he felt as though he were outside, watching himself enter the cage from a distance . . . the way it always appeared in his dream.

As he stood, shaking his arms and rotating his shoulders in his corner of the cage, he heard Tyson's voice—faraway and surreal—asking him if he was okay, if he was ready . . .

No. And no.

He didn't answer as he waited.

Maybe it was a good thing that he couldn't feel his legs beneath him. It kept him from running out of the cage and away from the intense fear consuming him.

Rico Mendez's music started and a few minutes later, he saw the man enter the octagon.

The wait for the ref to call the start of the fight felt far too long.

But then, too soon, he moved toward the center of the cage and touched gloves with his opponent.

“Are you ready?” the ref asked Mendez.

The man nodded, his gaze locked on Dane.

“Are you ready?” the ref asked him.

He must have nodded because a few seconds later, from his corner, he heard the ref call “Fight!” and the clock started for the first five-minute round.

He made his way to the center, where Mendez was already waiting, but his opponent surprised him by dropping his hands and leaning toward him. “Dane, this is a new day, a new fight, a way out of the hell you're in.” He tapped his shoulder before moving away and raising his arms.

Dane blinked. The words echoing in his mind. A way out. One he needed to take.

He forced a breath and shook off the tightening, suffocating grip of the last year. Rico Mendez may need this fight to end his fighting career, but he knew in that instant that he needed it to restart his.

* * *

Colby watched the fight from the reporters' box near the back of the event center, her heart in her throat as the fight started. Dane was in the cage, and while he'd looked as though he were moving on autopilot a few minutes ago as he circled Mendez, now he looked focused and determined.

Seeing him was tough. Part of her had been hoping that maybe after he'd read the note from Marco to his son, he might reach out to her, but he hadn't. She'd only been partially surprised to see him wearing the Edwards' Propellers' logo. She knew her father really liked Dane. Her entire family did. He'd fit in . . .

The time on the clock ticked by as the two men danced around each other. Both had more than enough reason to be cautious in their game plan. This fight meant different things to each of them, but of equal importance.

The ref yelled at them to start pushing the pace and Mendez moved in, delivering several jabs, connecting with Dane's jaw. Dane moved out of reach of the right hook that followed, then countered with his own, staggering Mendez.

Colby held her breath as she watched him capitalize on the unsteady opponent, delivering several uppercuts and a left hook that had Mendez leaning against the cage, covering up.

She moved to stand closer and saw Mendez strike from his bent position, landing a hard shot to Dane's ribs that rippled his body. She winced as she saw the veteran fighter follow it up with several jabs and a straight, forcing Dane to retreat slightly.

The bell sounded, signaling the end of the round, and she released a breath. She wasn't a judge, but she was certain Dane had won that first round. Despite her aching heart, she smiled.

He was back.

* * *

He was back.

“That first round was yours. Great job, man . . . Good to see you looking alive out there,” Tyson said in his corner,
handing him his water bottle and wiping his forehead with his towel.

He nodded, forcing air into his lungs. “I feel good. This feels good,” he said. He'd never have thought stepping back into the cage and fighting again would have this liberating effect on him. But suddenly the only thing on his mind was this fight. Winning this fight.

The bell rang and he stood.

“Okay, stick to the fight plan. You got this if you want it,” Tyson said, leaving the cage.

He wanted it. And he didn't want a decision win at the end of three rounds. He was back. Better than ever. And he wanted the fans who'd stuck by him to know he was prepared to be a better fighter—a champion—from now on.

As soon as the ref called “fight,” he didn't hesitate to abandon the fight plan. Crossing the cage in a sprint, he leaped toward Mendez, delivering a superman punch to the man's jaw. He saw Rico's head snap back, and his eyes struggled to focus as he regained his balance.

But Dane wasn't about to allow him to recover. Moving in, he grabbed the man's shoulders and delivered a flying knee to his chin.

He felt Mendez's body grow limp and a second later he was out on the mat at his feet.

The noise in the event center was deafening as the ref called the fight due to knockout and his arm was raised in the air. As his gaze surveyed the crowd, it landed on Colby.

She smiled and he returned it. So much had happened between them, he had no idea where they went from here . . . but he was standing there victorious in that moment because of her.

* * *

She should leave.

The fight was over. Rico “The Bulldog” Mendez had officially announced his retirement, thanking Dane for the chance at a rematch and saying that he'd wanted to retire and “The Gentle Giant” had retired him. Hearing Dane's fight name given back to him from the well-respected veteran fighter had made the crowd celebrate the win even more, and the two men had embraced inside the cage.

Now it was over and only a few scattered fans hung around, hoping to grab an autograph on the fighters' way out.

She wasn't hoping for an autograph. She was desperate for so much more, and the smile he'd returned from the cage
moments before gave her just enough hope to grasp on to.

But as she waited in the hallway outside the fighter preparation rooms, where the two fighters were being checked post-fight for injuries by the doctors, her confidence waned.

The door opened and her breath caught, but it was Tyson who exited.

“Hi,” she said. “How is he?”

“After the fight? Or after you?” the coach asked.

It was a struggle to keep her voice steady as she spoke. “The fight.” She'd already seen the pain she'd inflicted.

“He's good. Doctor thinks he may have a fractured rib from some of the body shots he took in the first round, but other than that, he should be back to training in a few weeks.”

“So he's decided to continue fighting?”

Tyson nodded. “He's reviewing a new fight contract right now,” he said. Then, noticing Parker walking toward them, he said, “He's having a good night. Maybe just let him enjoy his win.”

The lump in her throat refused to allow her answer, so she nodded quickly. Of course he was right. What was she thinking, sticking around? She turned to leave, but Parker stopped her.

“Don't listen to him,” she said, shooting her boyfriend a look. “Be nice!” she told him.

Tyson just folded his large, tattooed arms across his chest and stepped back with a shrug.

Parker touched her arm. “Look, you may have hurt him, but it's because of you he returned to fighting. You helped him realize he hadn't died along with Consuelos that night, and he couldn't continue to blame himself for something that wasn't his fault.”

Obviously Dane had told them the truth about what happened that night.

“And all I know is he is constantly checking his cell phone at the gym and I've caught him staring at your picture more than once,” Parker said, softly. She moved toward the door and opened it. “Go in.”

Colby nodded, but her legs felt like rubber as she slowly entered the room as the doctor walked out, leaving them alone. “Hi,” she said.

Sitting on the edge of a portable, fold-out examination table, still in his tight shorts, bandages wrapped around his body to support the damaged rib, he glanced up with a look of surprise. “Hey.”

“So . . . you won,” she said, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. “Congrats.”

“Thanks. I, uh, saw you out there after the fight.” His gaze locked with hers.

“Yeah, I know.” Why was this so hard?

A silence fell between them as she studied her feet and struggled to find the right words to say to him. “Dane . . .”

He climbed down from the table and grabbed his shirt. “Tell your dad thanks again for sponsoring me,” he said. “Actually, I'll tell him. I have to see him tomorrow anyway . . .” He sounded slightly regretful as he continued, “I've decided to accept a new contract with the MFL.”

She nodded. “Yeah, Tyson said. That's wonderful. Dad will hate losing you as a worker, but he'll be proud that you're doing what you love.”

He stared at her for a long moment and something that looked almost like love flickered in his eyes, but too fast. His expression was quickly unreadable again. Pulling the shirt over his head carefully and wincing slightly, he grabbed his training gear. “Well, I have to go . . .”

Her heart fell. “Right. Of course.” No doubt there was a celebratory after-fight party he was off to. Where he'd have no trouble finding another woman to take his mind off of any of his pain. “Congrats again,” she said, forcing her voice to be strong.

He headed toward the door, then turned. “Colby . . .”

She held her breath.
Please say you forgive me and that you love me.

“Thanks for . . . everything.”

Disappointment nearly strangled her, but she smiled as she nodded, knowing if she tried to utter a sound, he'd hear her heart shattering.

“Colby, you have another visitor,” Shannon buzzed her office for the twentieth time the next day. By now she knew what to expect—another Xtreme Fight League fighter.

“Send them up, please.” Since that morning, one after another had shown up at her office. At first, she'd been nervous and had asked for security to be on stand-by. She knew the fighters all knew by now what she planned to report that evening on her first live, on-air broadcast on Knock Out Sports, as she'd sent a report to the Nevada State Athletic Commission the day before and they'd temporarily shut the doors of Xtreme Fight while they carried out their own investigation. But she didn't know how the fighters all felt about the organization being shut down.

They'd shocked her.

Each one had come prepared with a written statement outlining the commission codes they'd seen violated within the Xtreme Fight League and their own personal accounts of being forced to fight injured or of having their contracts broken. She had a stack on her desk—enough supporting evidence for her story and to hand off to the Athletic Commission—more than she ever could have hoped for.

“Hi,” Joe Sapiro said, poking his head into her office a minute later.

She smiled. “I was wondering if I'd see you,” she said. “Come in.”

He did. And he handed her a file folder. “Here's mine.”

She took it. “Thank you. And I know that you are the one who got the other fighters on board with this, so thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, looking slightly embarrassed. “I was already out, so I had nothing to lose, really, but some of these guys are taking a huge chance closing down the one organization that always gave them a fight.”

“So why are they doing this?”

“Because they know they should. And they all loved Marco and his family. We're all hoping if you have enough of these, you won't need their story,” he said.

Her mouth went dry. So, there was a catch. “Joe . . .”

He held up a hand. “It's your decision, Colby. Either way, you're doing a great thing and we are all thankful that you
got involved in this.”

She nodded. So many times over the last few days, she'd desperately regretted getting involved in the first place. If she could go back and change things, never step foot inside the Xtreme Fight League . . . would she? The thought was driving her mad and there was nothing she could do about it. “Thanks, Joe.”

When he left her office, she sat at her desk and scanned the pile of letters. All of these fighters agreed she was doing the right thing. She just wished she could fully believe that herself, in her heart.

* * *

“Why are you watching this, man?” Tyson asked, coming into the office where Dane sat watching that evening's
Against the Ropes
broadcast.

“It's like a train wreck. I can't look away,” he mumbled. On screen, Colby sat behind the reporting desk, and to the rest of the world, she appeared confident, calm, and relaxed.

But he knew her well. She licked the corner of her lip ever so briefly when she was nervous, and she was doing it now. He knew doing this story hadn't been an easy decision for her to make, but allowing himself any sympathy or understanding for her would break him completely and he'd collapse like a house of cards.

Damn, he missed her. Seeing her on the television only reinforced how much. He craved her touch, her kiss, the smell of her honey-scented skin, and the way she shivered beneath his touch.

Unwelcome memories flashed in his mind and he pushed them aside.

Tyson pulled up a chair next to him as the show's coanchor handed it over to her.

“Hello, everyone. I'm your new cohost for the program, and tonight I have a breaking news story that will change the sport of MMA.”

“She's got that right,” Tyson said next to him.

“You think she's doing the right thing, don't you?”

Tyson sent him a look. “Don't
you
? Come on, man, we both know that Cameron Bennett is an asshole. He wasn't treating the fighters fairly, and he was breaking all the governing rules of the sport.”

Dane remained silent. He just wished this didn't have to involve him, drag his past out into the open again, and hurt the Consuelos family.

“Over the last few months, I've done some investigating into the Xtreme Fight League.”

He leaned forward on his elbows.

Parker came into the office. “This the story?” she asked quietly, sympathy in her voice.

Tyson nodded, taking her hand and pulling her down onto his lap.

Dane clenched his jaw. The couple's love for each other had been destroying him all week. Seeing two people so madly in love had only reminded him of the two months he'd spent with Colby. He stood. “You can have my chair,” he grumbled.

Parker shot a look at Tyson and he nodded. “He's heartbroken. Let's give him a break,” he said, kissing her cheek as she moved over to Dane's abandoned chair.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, folding his arms across his chest as he sat on the edge of Tyson's desk to continue watching.

On screen, Colby talked about the history of the organization, the various fighters who had started out there . . .

Come on, get to it.
This was torture.

“Tonight, we are hoping new evidence suggesting the league has been ignoring and at times blatantly breaking the fight commission's rules will be enough to shut down the organization.”

His heart raced. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the desk.

She held up a stack of papers. “These are all letters from the organization's fighters confirming everything I discovered about the league. There are countless testimonies about doctor's notes being ignored, fighters slipping through to the fights without meeting weight requirements, athletes fighting without the proper gear . . .”

She continued, reporting the incident she'd overheard between Cameron Bennett and Joe Sapiro, which had resulted in him walking away from the organization and landing him a contract with the MFL. She listed the various commission codes that had been broken over the last few years and the investigations that had gone nowhere . . .

He waited. Anytime now, she'd mention the Consuelos fight and the world would know the truth.

“So, as of yesterday the doors of the Xtreme Fight League closed as per the Nevada State Athletic Commission. The Las Vegas Police Department is remaining on site to deal with any conflict that might arise, but fighters and employees of the organization are asked to stay away for safety and ease of the investigation into the claims. The organization will face fines upwards of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and their reopening is pending restructuring, new management, and proof of regulation compliancy, but a future for Xtreme Fight looks unlikely.” She paused. “That's tonight's story. Thank you for the warm welcome . . .”

He didn't hear the rest as he stared at the screen. She hadn't mentioned him or the Consuelos family. She'd done the story and had successfully managed to shut down one of the more dangerous fighting organizations in the state without reopening his freshly healing scars or hurting Eva and Josh.

Tyson turned to look at him. “I guess a few other people thought she was doing the right thing too,” he said.

Dane nodded. “Guess so.” His mind reeled and his stomach was a mess of nerves. The stress of the last few weeks and that day in particular as he waited for this broadcast to air had been the only thing making it possible to resist calling Colby or texting her or showing up at her house.

Walking away from her after the fight had taken every ounce of his remaining strength and it had been fueled by hurt and disappointment. Those feelings were melting away now as he stared at her beautiful face on the television, one he'd missed so much. And without them, he was powerless to the overwhelming sensations of love and longing he felt for her.

When Dane glanced toward his friends, they were both staring at him. “What?”

“We're just wondering why the hell you're still standing there,” Tyson said.

“Yeah, me too,” he said, grabbing his training bag and heading toward the door.

* * *

Hearing a tap on her office door, Colby quickly gathered her things. “I'll be right there, Martin,” she said, grabbing her purse. The network had insisted that for the next few days, she be escorted to her vehicle by a security guard. A lot of people were pissed off about her story right now. She wasn't afraid or nervous, but neither was she about to be careless. A few screened, angry phone calls to the station that evening gave her enough hesitation. Until things were finalized and the dust settled, she would be careful and stick with Martin.

However, it wasn't Martin's voice that replied. “Take your time.”

Her head shot up. Dane stood in the office entryway. Martin stood behind him in the hall. “You okay with this guy escorting you instead?” the guard asked with a grin.

She nodded numbly. “Uh, um . . . yeah, I'm fine,” she mumbled, her hands shaky as she set her phone to go to voice mail and then logged off her computer. She was stalling, but she was terrified. What was he doing there? Had he seen the show? She hadn't heard from him since their awkward moment after his fight and she had started to put aside any hope that he would contact her.

“Great view,” he said, entering the office as a plane soared past.

That depended on the state of her heart. Up until that moment, it had been a gut-wrenching view. Every plane that had passed that week had been an unneeded reminder of the night he'd taken her to watch them take off . . . a reminder of his touch, of his kiss, of his words.

Finally, with nothing left to do, she summoned the courage to turn her attention to him again. In the pair of those ripped jeans she loved so much, a black T-shirt and baseball hat, he was the best thing she'd seen all day, but he still hadn't said why he was there, and she dared not get her hopes up. “Okay, I'm ready,” she said as strongly as she could.

He crossed the room in three quick strides. “I'm ready too,” he said, grabbing her waist and pulling her into him.

Her heart soared and she eagerly moved toward him. She breathed in the scent of his soft cologne as she rested her head against his solid chest, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her.

“I'm ready to finally move past all of this,” he said, pulling back slightly to look at her. “And it's all because of you.”

She swallowed hard. “You saw the show?”

He nodded. “I did, and I realized you were right to broadcast the story, but the truth is, none of it matters. Not to me, not anymore . . . All that does matter is you. The last few weeks without you have been unbearable. You're on my mind from the time I open my eyes every morning and the thought of never being with you again has been making me crazy.”

His words were ones she'd longed to hear, but hadn't thought she ever would again. “I'm so sorry I lied to you and hurt you.”

He shook his head. “I know why you did—I'm still pissed that you didn't tell me the truth from the beginning—but I forgive you,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“Why? I mean, you trusted me and I let you down,” she said. She didn't want to question it, she just wanted to accept it, but she couldn't believe he was standing there, with his arms wrapped around her. “I hate myself for that,” she whispered.

He lifted her chin. “No. Don't do that. I hated myself for too long for something I'd already had forgiveness for, don't you do it.”

She hugged him tight, knowing it wouldn't be that easy. She'd hurt him and she was determined to spend the rest of her life making it up to him. She couldn't believe she was getting this chance, but it was one opportunity she didn't plan to pass up. “I love you, Dane,” she whispered.

“I love you, Colby. Thank you for giving me my life back,” he said as his mouth met hers and his kiss delivered a knockout punch to any lingering traces of doubt.