Takedown (15 page)

Mitchell’s stomach churned. “He won’t,” he muttered absently, focusing on the passing cars. “There’re rules. It’s all legal.”

“Really? And what about outside the ring?”

“Cage.”

“Outside the
cage
. Like when—” his mother started.

His father cut her off by squeezing her arm, but Mitchell looked ahead at them again. “Wait, outside the cage? Like
when
, exactly?”

“When he loses his temper. Like he did with Sid.”

Mitchell eyed them. “He never touched Sid. He steered him out, but he didn’t assault him. Not that I’d have blamed him—”

“This is exactly what we’re talking about. The brutality of it all. What did we do wrong? How were you suddenly sucked into this—this lifestyle?” his mother asked forcefully, staring in the rearview mirror.

Mitchell’s face creased. “He’s not that kind of guy. Why do you think he’ll turn into some different man suddenly? He’s never been arrested.”

“Because
we
pulled strings.”

Mitchell’s blood ran cold and he stared between them, leaning forward. “What do you mean?”

“Only that if we weren’t so well-known—” his father started.

“You knew about the Millers.”

There was silence for another minute, and his parents exchanged looks, but that was all Mitchell needed.

“You
knew
those
assholes
were coming to fuckin’
kill
me.”

“Language! Don’t be dramatic—”

“
How dare you
?” Mitchell exclaimed, his fingers digging into his palms in tight fists as he fought for breath. He wanted to throw open the door and bail the car, highway or not. “How
fucking
dare you?”

“Language, in my car, young man! Don’t you dare speak to your mother that way.”

“I’m not your young man, either of yours,” Mitchell hissed. “I’m the guy you tried to get beaten up. What, you just wanted them to scare me?”

“I don’t see why you’re jumping to conclusions—”

Mitchell scoffed. “Oh, yeah, right. Because that was subtle. The only thing I don’t know is whether you
asked
them to come beat the gay out of me, or just
knew
they were going to and encouraged it.”

His parents were silent now, both stiffly staring ahead.

“Either way, I think you know how goddamn
wrong
that was,” Mitchell told them, his voice soft as he finally leaned back in his seat. Thank God he could see the airport in the distance. “And it’s a shame. I wanted to try to rebuild some kind of relationship with you, but that’s obviously not happening. And I’m not changing—
can’t
change. Wouldn’t change, even if I could.”

“The airport exit’s here,” his father told his mother.

Mitchell sank back in his seat and stared out the window, closing his fingers tightly around the handle of his suitcase.

He planned the moment for the next few minutes, but when it arrived, there was still no preparing for it.

They pulled up outside the drop-off section of the airport and Mitchell checked for passing cars, then threw open his door. He unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his luggage, hauling it across the seat and tugging it to the ground. Then he slammed the door shut without saying a word, pulling out the handle of the suitcase.

Mitchell rolled his suitcase across the concrete and up to the sidewalk, sparing the car half a glance. Normally this was when his parents would get out and hug him goodbye and say faintly judgmental things about staying safe in New York City.

He didn’t seriously expect them to get out of the car now, though.

And he was shocked to find that he didn’t
want
them to. Wasn’t he supposed to want a good relationship with his parents? Wasn’t he supposed to love them somehow, on some level, no matter what they did?

Was he completely fucked-up for feeling nothing right now?

Mitchell turned to the airport entrance and strode for the door, his chest somehow both tight and light. It was like the heavy darkness had been shaken away, the curtain yanked up, but the harshness of the daylight stung his eyes.

When he looked in the glass, Mitchell spotted the little red Ford pulling away, merging back into traffic as easily as that.

Did his chest feel light or empty? It was too early to know, but Mitchell made it to the check-in desk. He dropped off his suitcase, then got through security without a fuss.

When he settled by his gate with his laptop bag, Mitchell rolled his head back, listening to the airport overhead announcements. He finally thought to check his cellphone, and the message on it made him smile.

Luke had added an emoticon with two hearts after the text.

Mitchell stared at it for a long few moments, his shoulders slowly sinking. The tunnel behind him might have caved in, but he’d made it through. The road ahead was terrifying, but it felt
right
to walk it.

Mitchell sent back just a heart and then a few words.

He couldn’t tell Luke what had happened yet. He didn’t want to break his focus or make him go after his parents in revenge if they came by the gym and tried to provoke him.

Mitchell bit his lip hard. He’d tell Hugh not to let them near Luke, and leave it at that until after the fight.

There was lots of time after the fight to talk about what this meant, to seek refuge in Luke’s arms.

More than anything, he wanted those strong arms wrapped around him once more. He wanted Luke’s gentle lips pressed into his hair, the sweat and gym soap scent of Luke filling his nose. He wanted his face pressed against that strong shoulder…

Mitchell’s chest ached, and he tried to drag his mind off the moment as the boarding call was made. He shut off his phone and prepared to board along with the other passengers. He barely looked around himself as he took an aisle seat and tucked his laptop bag under the seat in front of him.

He pictured himself sitting next to Luke, being able to subtly lean into his shoulder and murmur to him about anything and everything. But the college-aged girl sharing a row with him was nothing like Luke. Neither was anyone else he’d seen since the day he’d walked into that gym.

It was love. He was throwing his past away for love. He’d scoffed at the people who did this, but now it was
him
.

Though Mitchell resented the church that had almost led him into a grave mistake, he would have prayed now for a sign—any sign—that this was the right decision.

L
uke’s heart
always pounded as he stuffed his gym locker into his training bag—four-ounce gloves, seven-ounce gloves, heavy bag gloves, extra water bottle, extra tape, extra socks, hell, extra
everything
.

He kept half his closet downstairs so he didn’t have to go grab things in the middle of training. All his regular clothes and toiletries and electronics were already packed. Now it was just the last few pieces of fight gear.

“Got everything?” Hugh asked from nearby, startling him.

“Yep.” Luke took another glance around the familiar gym surroundings. He’d already gotten his best wishes from the whole crowd—James, Troy, Butch, Alex, Aidan, everyone. This was the last time he’d see
this
for a few days. Until after he’d won or lost.

God, he hoped he could win. His instincts told him it could go either way, and he didn’t like that. He liked knowing he had the upper hand. But it would be a pretty wimpy sport if he always felt safe and secure.

“Been cutting back water today?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Getting distracted?”

“Nope.”

Hugh clapped his shoulder. “Great. Drop your bag off in the car when you’re ready.”

The flight ahead of them had Luke’s nerves on edge, too. He’d split up his packing. His most important gear that wouldn’t flip out TSA agents went in the carry-on. Only his less important stuff like normal clothes went in the checked bag.

Before he left the locker room, Luke stopped to send a text to Mitchell. Each morning since he’d left, Luke waited until Mitchell woke up at seven, which was six Luke’s time, and sent a text.

Mitchell always answered within moments, and sure enough, he did now.

Mitchell added several hearts.

Luke licked his lips and shouldered his bag. He couldn’t believe it was almost here. Hugh was doing a good job keeping him grounded and focused on the next step, one at a time, but it was natural his mind would wander.

For a moment, Luke read that as
fight
and his stomach lurched. Then he told himself not to be ridiculous.

Hugh came into the locker room again, his bag on his shoulder. He raised his eyebrow at the sight of Luke standing there on his phone. “Checking in?”

“Er, yeah.”

The phone buzzed. It was another heart icon, then the word
you
.

Heart you?
Luke thought, staring at the message for a moment. Then it clicked. He felt like an idiot at first, and then an idiot in love.

He tore his eyes up to Hugh’s again and cleared his throat. “Just about ready to go.”

“Luke.” Hugh’s voice was serious. “I’m assuming he’s coming to see you the day before the fight.”

Luke hesitated, then nodded. Right now, that was the plan, unless Hugh said no. His stomach churned with nerves.

“I think that’ll ground you, as long as you don’t let it distract you,” Hugh told him seriously. “And that’s a big risk.”

Luke swallowed. “I won’t,” he promised. “I’ve got my head in the game.”

Hugh nodded. He gave Luke a look like he trusted him to know his own mind, and Luke appreciated that beyond measure. “Come on, let’s get on this damn plane.”

Luke tapped his emoticons, chose a heart, and added
you too
. He sent the message, then pocketed his phone and followed Hugh out to his car.

“
I
f the couple
takes it tomorrow, the commission’s yours.”

George stared at Mitchell like he was insane. “You… you’re offering it to me?”

Mitchell smiled at the younger guy. He was about a year less experienced, and he was being handed fifty grand. No wonder he couldn’t believe his ears. “You ran this one from start to finish. All I did was show up for the open houses. You did me a big favor. And I’m not gonna be even there tonight for the last open house.”

“I didn’t expect you to—”

Mitchell clapped George’s shoulder as he tossed away his paper cup in the trash. “Don’t mention it. You’re the listing agent. I’ll get it sorted out.”

George swallowed hard, then jerked his chin in a quick nod. “Thanks, man. Thanks, Mitchell. That’s cool.”

It had been a while since Mitchell felt this good in his job, and it was from turning away work. He knew that wasn’t a good sign. And drafting his letter of resignation last night had been his favorite piece of writing in months.

Mitchell nodded in return, then walked back over to the group of agents who were chatting over the lunch table.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, Micky?” That was Damian, one of the more obnoxious realtors. Sure, he was free to spend his own money, but every sale seemed to buy him a new ridiculous sports car he didn’t need.

“Personal event in New Jersey.”

Damian laughed, and then a couple others joined in. “New Jersey?”

Mitchell wasn’t going to admit what it
really
was. Going to watch his boyfriend in an MMA fight?

“That’s almost as bad as Nebraska,” Damian continued while the others laughed, throwing in their own comments about Nebraska. Mitchell stayed cool and finished his salad.

George grabbed a seat at the table again, eating his sandwich as he watched.

“You meet some important cow back home in Ne-braaaa-ska? You wanna see her off to the slaughterhouse?” Damian taunted.

“There’s more slaughterhouses here in the city than New Jersey,” Mitchell snorted, avoiding rising to the bait. “Anyway, I’m off.” He gave George another nod. “Got places to be. Did I forget anything?”

“That guy who you were talking to about the Queens loft.”

“Which one?”

“The brick one.”

“Right. I gave him your number already, Pam,” Mitchell confirmed.

They didn’t know it, but he was tying up all his loose ends. Whether Luke won or lost this fight, something had to change. If that meant finding another quieter town upstate where he could set up shop or find some firm who wanted a big-city name, then fine, he’d do that.

“Nothing else?” Nobody could think of anything, so Mitchell nodded. “See you,” he waved, striding out of the office building while he straightened out his tie.

It felt less terrifying than he had imagined to walk out of the building. His resignation wasn’t signed, sealed, and delivered yet, so he had the weekend to think about it. If he still felt the same, he’d send it Sunday night.

The firm wouldn’t suffer. There were always eager young kids like George who wanted to work their way up. He’d just disappear from the city one day and nobody would notice. Nobody in the city, anyway.

As he headed for the subway home to grab his packed bag and load it into his car, Mitchell’s heart was light. A week felt like the blink of an eye now that he was hours away from seeing Luke again.

I
t was after-hours
, but Mitchell tried the door anyway. His shoulders sank with relief when it opened, and he stepped inside.

This place felt even harsher than his gym. It was an old warehouse, and he would never have found it without Luke’s texted instructions. There were fewer machines and more free weights. Then there was a lot more boxing training gear and a proper boxing ring as well as the familiar MMA cage.

Mostly, he was interested in the sight of Luke, shirtless and in shorts. That meant he was in training mode, so Mitchell didn’t call out.

The gym was empty other than Luke’s shuffling footsteps and harsh breaths, and the quiet grunts that escaped his throat with each punch.

He watched Luke dance around a bag, his footsteps light and his motions quick and easy. He wasn’t going in hard, he was tapping the points he would be targeting before dancing away again. Mitchell could see what they’d be: jaw, solar plexus, side of the ribcage.

God, he was beautiful when he was sucked heart and soul into his passion. From the first moment he’d watched Luke’s grace and power, Mitchell had been utterly captivated.

Then Luke’s head snapped up and his fists dropped, his whole posture opening up again. The guard he’d kept on his throat, face, and torso was gone. Mitchell was thrilled that he knew enough to appreciate that, but even a layperson could see the change in his expression.

“Hey,” Luke called out, jogging over toward Mitchell and swiping his fists a few times as he approached. “Come to make fun of me?”

“Not at all,” Mitchell grinned as he walked forward, spreading his arms for a hug.

Luke hugged him hard, drawing him into those muscled arms in a way that made Mitchell forget the last week.

“You’re looking great,” Mitchell murmured. “You made weight?” Luke had texted to say as much, but he wanted to hear about it in person.

“I did,” Luke smiled. “So did Pascal, but barely. I’m probably three under him once we start drinking and eating like normal people.” His gloved hands ran over Mitchell’s back and pulled him tight.

Mitchell chuckled quietly and squeezed that rock-hard body in another hug before he pulled back. The moment was suddenly intimate as their lips met in a long, slow kiss.

When Luke drew back and drew his breath for air, Mitchell grinned. “You staying here long?”

“No, I’m done. Hugh didn’t want me staying out late anyway. I just wanted to check a few more things.”

Mitchell nodded and finally let go of Luke, following him to the locker room. “Anyone else here?”

“Nope, just us.” Luke’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

Mitchell could tell what he was thinking and he grinned. “Not ’till after the fight. Save all that energy for tomorrow… and tomorrow night,” he winked.

“Damn,” Luke laughed. “Cold.”

“Nah. I’m pretty hot,” Mitchell admitted, trying not to focus on the interest he took in Luke’s rippling back muscles laid bare or the strong thighs under his shorts. “But Hugh wouldn’t want your energy being diluted.”

“Ugh,” Luke groaned. “You saw his rules list.”

“I did. He has quite a collection,” Mitchell smirked. Avoiding sex the week before the fight was one of the rules, as was avoiding Facebook. He had no idea why fucking was as bad as social media, but he trusted Hugh to know what he was talking about.

He waited on the bench for Luke to shower, just to avoid temptation.

“How was work?” Luke called out over the splashing of water.

“Great. Got all the details for the weekend sorted out.” Mitchell’s heart lurched, but now wasn’t the right time to tell him that he was looking at quitting. Luke didn’t need any more pressure.

“So you coming back to Beatrice already? It’s only been a week,” Luke chuckled.

“Yeah, we’ll see. If I do, I might drive out.”

Luke was silent for a moment, thinking that through. “That’s like… twenty hours on the road.”

“That’s why I said I might,” Mitchell laughed.

When Luke emerged, Mitchell had to do everything in his power to tear his gaze off that hot body. Water droplets ran down from his hair and across his shoulders to the ripples of his pecs. One clung to his nipple while another slowly traced a line down his flat stomach to his proud, thick cock just dangling there, waiting to be sucked.

Oh, yeah, Mitchell was hungry for it.

He quickly leaned back and looked at Luke’s face instead, but his lips were parted. Luke was smirking at him. “Still sure about following Hugh’s rules?” Luke murmured, his voice a quiet purr.

“Positive.” Mitchell knew his voice was strained but he couldn’t do much about it. “Stop tempting me and put your clothes on, you asshole.”

Luke laughed and towelled himself off briskly, obediently getting dressed.

Once they were out of the gym, Mitchell felt the heat taken off a little. It was around a series of back alleys in an industrial park, and with absolutely nobody around, he felt safe enough to reach out for Luke’s hand.

Luke tangled his fingers with Mitchell’s and smiled at him, that broad hand so gently squeezing his fingers. Mitchell smiled at the thought: those hands were capable of knocking a man out ten ways from Sunday, but they were always gentle on him.

Then, as they turned from one alley to the last one before the main alley, he heard voices before he saw them.

Like a specter from the restless dreams he’d endured for the last week, the three Miller boys were walking toward them, shoving each other and laughing.

And like Mitchell’s nightmares, one of them jeered. “There they are.”

For a moment, Mitchell froze. Then Luke pulled his hand out of Mitchell’s, and Mitchell could see the hard fire flowing through his body.

“Don’t,” Mitchell hissed even as fear flooded him.

The other choice was to run; the Millers were all slightly out of shape, after all. Luke definitely could, and with the adrenaline rushing through him, Mitchell thought he could too.

But Luke wasn’t the kind of guy who ran.

“If you haven’t learned your fucking lesson by now,” Luke snarled, “maybe I haven’t drilled it into you hard enough.”

“Fucking faggot, wanting to drill us,” Bobby jeered.

“Your daddy ain’t gonna save you now,” Luke warned, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m warning you, I’m not stopping until you do.”

“Luke,” Mitchell hissed, his heart jumping into his throat at the way the twins flanked Bobby to block the full width of the alley as they strode closer. “The fight.”

Luke wasn’t hearing him. Mitchell’s mind ran through the risks: everything from getting stabbed to breaking something.

Three on two—realistically three on one, since the Millers were twice his size and it would be all he could do to keep one of the twins away from Luke…

No, this was insanity. They couldn’t solve it with fists.

But it was too late. Luke had pulled away from him and was sprinting down the alley, meeting Bobby head-on with a snarl and throwing him hard against the brick wall.

Bobby’s body thudded, making Mitchell freeze with fear. He’d never seen this wild look in Luke’s eye before, and a whole new risk came to Mitchell’s mind. Worse yet, Luke could kill one of them.

Oh, shit.

“Luke, no!”

Too late. Luke had ridden Todd to the ground and was punching him in the ribs while he yelled.
This
was what ground and pound looked like. When the other twin tried to get a chokehold from behind, Luke grabbed his arm and bent it backwards. He threw him over his shoulder on top of the other twin.

“Luke,
stop
!” Mitchell yelled, not caring if they were overheard now. They had to fucking bolt now, before the cops showed up. If even one person was in earshot, they’d probably have called the cops already.

“Get over here, you little—” Bobby hissed, wrenching Luke’s arm back and kicking him with all his force in the ribs.

Luke grunted and doubled over, then grabbed Bobby’s leg and twisted sharply to bring him to the ground. Luke jabbed him twice in the face before he elbowed Mike in the stomach.

Todd stopped fighting back, pulling on Bobby’s arm to get him to his feet and back off, but Luke was still going for Mike.

That was it. “Fucking
stop
, Luke!” Mitchell snarled, striding forward and grabbing the back of Luke’s shirt to haul him away.

It was a credit to Luke that he let Mitchell pull him back, but only a slight one compared to how pissed Mitchell was now.

The Millers wasted no time getting out of there like bats out of hell.

“And don’t you
fucking
come
near
either of us again!” Luke snarled after them, feinting a lunge toward them while Mitchell locked his arms around Luke’s to keep him back.

They froze like that for a minute, Luke’s chest heaving until he started to even out his breaths in slow, deliberate movements. The tension gradually sank out of Luke’s body and Mitchell let go, then shoved him hard.

“What?” Luke exclaimed, seemingly truly taken aback. He rubbed his rib and bared his teeth in a quick flash of pain he quickly hid.

“What the fuck,” Mitchell exclaimed, not bothering keeping his voice down, “were you thinking?”

“I had to—”

“Fight or
flight
, you hotheaded asshole,” Mitchell snapped. “You know who their daddy is.”

“He can’t prove a damn thing,” Luke snapped right back, not taking a moment of it. “And if he can, we’ll figure it out. I’m not gonna let them crack your head open, you spoiled little idiot.”

It was Mitchell’s turn to recoil. “Excuse me? People will be shitheads, but you don’t have to fight them every time.”

“Yeah, I do.” Luke stepped forward, jutting his chin out at him. It was the first time in years Mitchell had seen that cold aggression leveled at him. He knew it wasn’t personal—it was just Luke’s adrenaline and fear talking—but it still stung. “I fucking do. You remember Nebraska at all these days? You remember growing up gay, with those assholes always on your back? No, you don’t.
You
got to skip that bit. But
I
remember.”

“It’s not Nebraska, and it’s not high school,” Mitchell snapped, his fingernails biting into his palms. He struggled to take a breath or two and calm himself down. “Did they crack a rib?”

“No,” Luke snorted, touching his ribs again. “It’s a bruise.”

“See? Fucking idiot,” Mitchell cursed, wheeling on his heel to pace back and forth and rub his hands through his hair. “Night before the fight and all.”

A broad hand closed over his shoulder and Mitchell let out a growling sigh of frustration, pushing it away as he turned to face Luke in the dim alley light. “You gotta get back to your hotel. Tell Hugh what you did.”

“Can I walk you back to your hotel?”