Uncaged Love #4: MMA New Adult Contemporary Romance Read online

  His shoulders bulge, probably a little more swollen than usual after the hard work of the match. His chest is sharply defined and perfectly smooth. His abs lead down to the cut of his hips. Heat rises in me as he reacts to my looking at him, stiffening.

  “Ten minutes,” I manage to say.

  “Only takes two to shower,” he says.

  “The water’s running…” But my heart is pounding so hard I can feel it between my legs.

  “Come here,” he says.

  I take a step toward him. I know what it’s like after a fight. The adrenaline rush. The feeling of invincibility.

  Before I can even see his movement, he’s closed the distance between us and his mouth is on mine.

  He snatches at my jacket and flings it to the floor. His hands jerk at my jeans, ripping apart the snap and unzipping them in one move.

  His lips crush against mine, his tongue probing me. I’m lost, losing my grip on gravity, balance. His arms go around my waist, walking me backward, closer to the steel sink.

  I push the shoes off my feet as my jeans work their way down. Colt breaks the kiss to bend down and yank them away. I’m wearing only the blue sweater above my panties, but in an instant the panties are gone. He lifts me up to sit on the counter beside the sink. The cold steel bites into my skin, but I barely even register this before Colt pushes my knees high and props my feet on the lip of the cabinet.

  I’m exposed, legs wide open, and his mouth is on me, his face buried between my thighs. I suck in a breath, clutching his shoulders. He spears me with his tongue, and his fingers spread me so he can probe deeper. Steam has begun to curl around us. We’re wasting water, I think, then my mind is erased when he sucks on the nub. I’m panting, and his fingers plunge into me. I’m so close, and trying not to cry out.

  Then he pulls back, pushing the sweater out of his way, shoving the bra aside. He takes both breasts in his hands as he plunges forward, entering me in a sharp stroke.

  I do scream then, and clap a hand over my mouth. Colt chuckles. He grips my knees to hold me in place, thrusting now with such force that I’m lost again, grabbing his head, hanging on.

  I rock against him, and the spirals start, the tightening waves of pleasure. I can’t stop them, and I’m unleashing, noisy and frantic and pressing harder.

  A tremor goes through Colt’s body. When my muscles begin to convulse around him, he releases inside me. I clutch his shoulders, riding it out, letting it all cascade through me. We hold still for a minute, and finally I feel Colt’s arms start to shake. I pull him in close. “About time fighter boy shows he can be worn out.”

  He buries his face against my neck. “You can never leave,” he says. “Don’t walk out on me again.”

  My hands run along the cords of muscle on his shoulders. “I won’t.” And I mean it.

  The door trembles with a series of bangs. “Press time!” Killjoy shouts.

  Colt backs away. “Time for that shower.”

  “You have negative one minute,” I say.

  He looks down at my legs, still parted from where he stood between them.

  “Damn hard to leave that alone,” he says. But he steps into the spray.

  I jump down and collect my clothes. When I turn to the mirror, I see that I’m still wearing the hat with the blue hair clipped inside. It’s like I’m another girl entirely. And yet, all of these versions of Jo — the timid runaway, the fighter, Colt’s lover — they are all still me.

  Chapter Three

  When I walk into Buster’s Gym Monday morning, thoughts of all my other troubles come racing at me. There’s Lani, my friend who has been gone ever since the strange night that she introduced me to her fighter friend Parker. I have never been able to ask if she knew Colt would be at that match, or why Parker seemed interested in me so fast.

  And then there’s Annabelle. She arrived last week, acting as though she’d never lifted a kettlebell. But she’s strong and fit like she’s been training for a long time. I suspect she is actually Annie, Colt’s last girlfriend, the one who wrecked him so badly he started losing fights. I don’t know it for sure, and I don’t know why she’d be here.

  I lock up my belongings. None of the girls’ lockers are being used, so neither Lani nor Annabelle can be here. I head back out and pass Buster in the hall. His face is animated, and even his bald head seems shinier, like he’s lit up.

  “Hey, Jo,” he says. “Saw your picture with Colt.” He laughs. “Where’s your flower hat?”

  I punch him lightly on the arm. “He’s really made it now, hasn’t he?”

  Buster opens the storage closet and pulls out a tangled mass of exercise bands. “He has. I expect life will get a little crazy as he heads toward that title match.”

  “It might.” I twist the end of my braid. Maybe I should do something about my hair again. If my picture is going to be everywhere, I need to make sure I don’t look like my old self, like Joanna. I can’t risk my past catching up to me now. Not when I’m finally where I want to be.

  Buster takes off for the weight room. I pop into his office to note the time on my sign-in sheet. His desk is a crazy mess, as always. Several of the membership forms for the new girls who have signed up lately are scattered across the top.

  I wonder if Annabelle’s is in there.

  I step back in the hall. The gym is pretty quiet so early. Only a couple weights are clinking in the next room. Buster’s bound to be fighting with that tangle of bands for a few minutes. I go back in his office.

  The names on the forms are familiar. Sammy, who wants to be able to walk around her college campus at night without feeling nervous. Lauren, who is hoping to lose a few pounds, although I think she looks fine. Then I see it. Annabelle Warren.

  My heart hammers as I look over her form. She’s twenty, same as me. Her address is in a part of LA I’m not familiar with but seems kind of far for her to come work out over here. Her goal for joining was “to get stronger.” Ha. She’s plenty strong.

  I stick the page back under the others. Annabelle Warren. It has to be her real name, as her credit card charges wouldn’t go through otherwise. I’m not sure who I can ask to find out if it matches Colt’s ex. Even though I would never admit it out loud, I could use Brittany right now.

  A box of lightweight sandbag discs arrives, and I sign for it. We had to get more, with all the girls joining. I remember my first day unpacking the new ones for Colt’s addition and smile. I can carry a whole box of these now. I’ll get those girls strong too. These smaller discs will go completely unused within a month, if I have anything to do with it.

  Buster is back in the new addition, wrestling with the bands. He looks up when I come in. “Oh, good, new sandbags.”

  I drop the box by the wall. I’ve been training the girls in the addition. I think of it as my space now. I still look around and see Colt everywhere, but now it’s not a sad thing.

  Buster tosses another band on the floor, freed from the tangle. “You think you’re up for another fight this Friday?” he asks.

  “I am.” I’m up against a girl who goes by Diva Delaney. She’s small and nimble, a fast striker. She often wins on points, since she’s such a quick hitter.

  “Good.” He sighs and tosses the knotted bands on the bench beside him.

  “I’ll do those later,” I say. I pick up the loose ones and hang them on a hook. When I turn around, Buster is watching me.

  “You know, I’m really proud of you. When Colt brought you in here, I thought, ‘What have I gotten myself into?’” He laughs. “Good ol’ Gunner knew what he was doing. I’m not sure how I would have saved this gym without you.”

  I swallow hard, realizing I was planning on running away just a few days ago. But that’s all in the past. I sit on the bench next to him. “We’re doing good things now.”

  He nods. “I hope I’m doing the right thing by letting you in the cage.” He stares up at the big hexagon that takes up a large chunk of the room. “I don’t like to think w
hat would happen if you got hurt.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I’m touched, though. I haven’t had anyone looking after me, really caring about me, since my dad died when I was eight. “I’m pretty tough.”

  His clear gray eyes search my face. “Just about the toughest girl I know.” He looks back at the cage. “You got any folks?”

  My chest gets all tight. This is why I don’t make friends. I don’t ask about their lives, and they don’t ask about mine. “No,” I say. Maybe I can keep it simple.

  “No mom, no dad?”

  “No.”

  “Sisters? Uncles? Nothing?”

  He’s not going to let this go. “I never knew my mother or any of her family. My grandfather died in Vietnam. My grandmother died when I was six. My dad died in an oil-rig explosion when I was eight.” I realize how much death I’ve just mentioned. But that’s how lives go. People live, and people die.

  “I’m sorry,” Buster says. “You live in foster care or something?”

  I think carefully how to handle this. “I had a stepmother. I left when I was able.”

  “All right,” he says. “That all makes sense. I just wanted to know if I had someone to answer to if something happened to you in there.”

  I relax. That’s all he was worried about. Who to call if I got hurt. “Nope. Nobody.”

  “Colt is somebody,” Buster laughs. “But he’s probably not going to leave your side anymore. You’ve got him pretty locked up, from what I can see.”

  I’m not sure about that. “If you need somebody, Zero works across the street at the cafe. He probably knows me best.”

  “Good to know.” Buster looks past me. “I think one of your girls is here.”

  I’m relieved this tricky conversation is over.

  But when I turn around, the girl standing in the doorway is Annabelle Warren.

  Chapter Four

  “Hey, Annie — Annabelle,” I say. Damn, I have to be careful. “You ready for some strength work?”

  Annabelle nods. Buster picks up the tangle of bands and heads back toward the weight room. I open the box of sandbags. It will be amusing to see how this girl fakes struggling with tiny eight-pound discs.

  I’ve got her doing some arm work when a couple other girls come in. I show them the drills and switch Annabelle to squats. The morning falls into a typical rhythm of moving the girls through the training, although I am watching Annabelle pretty close.

  That’s why I notice her whole body going stiff when the accordion door opens a half hour later. I think it must be Colt, but when I turn to look, it’s Lani.

  The two of them exchange similar “what the hell” looks.

  Annabelle quickly pretends to be in pain from the workout and scrunches up her face as if that was all that was getting to her. I have no idea what this is about. I expect Lani to come up and talk to her, since clearly they’ve met. But Lani strides right past her. Maybe they dislike each other. That would make sense, given their reaction.

  Now I have two things to ask Lani about. If she knows Annabelle, and also about that night after Parker’s match. But there’s too many girls to attend to for now. Annabelle is careful not to look behind her at Lani, even when Lani starts a steady rhythm on the speed bag that enthralls the other girls.

  A couple of them walk over to her. “How do you do that so perfectly?” one asks.

  Lani chats with them as she keeps her pattern on the bag. I take a smaller sand weight to a girl struggling with her tricep lifts and keep an eye on Annabelle. Everything about this makes my hackles rise.

  My phone buzzes against my skin. It’s Colt on his lunch break, I’m sure. Knowing I have a message from him waiting on a free moment makes me feel better. If Lani doesn’t know Annabelle, I’ll ask him about his ex-girlfriend’s last name when I get a chance to talk to him. I need to tell him what is happening. We shouldn’t keep any secrets from each other.

  If it is her, it’s so strange she would show up now.

  Unless.

  My body shudders with a chill.

  Unless Brittany sent her.

  Pieces start to fall together. She’s still trying to get rid of me. She tracked down Annie and sent her to Buster’s. But to do what? Spy on me? Pretend she’s weak, then pick a fight?

  The girl with the sandbag looks like she’s about to cry. Her arms are shaking. I walk over and take the weight from her.

  “Let’s punch a Bad Boy,” I say. The big body-shaped bags lie in a semicircle in one corner. The girls love beating the heck out of them. They will go at it until they collapse. It’s cathartic. I wouldn’t mind taking a turn on one right now myself.

  I’m thinking of just getting everything out in the open with Annabelle and asking how she knows Brittany when I turn around and see that she is gone.

  As the lunch hour passes, the main weight room fills up with office workers on their breaks and the girls thin out. I finally get a chance to catch Lani.

  “Hey, did you have a good trip?” I ask. I want to seem like nothing is wrong.

  But Lani is different. I can tell immediately. There’s no easy camaraderie like before. She drops the kettlebell she was lifting on the floor mat. “It was all right.”

  I don’t know how to broach the subject of Annabelle, so I choose Parker. “I haven’t seen you since that fight you took me to.”

  She shrugs. “Looks like you got reacquainted with Colt McClure.” She says his name like it’s a disease. She’s never done that before. Maybe she’s mad I ditched her. Of course.

  “I’m sorry I took off. I didn’t know where you went. I turned around, and you were gone.”

  “I was in Parker’s dressing room, like we planned.” She kicks at the kettlebell. “I sent him after you.”

  So, she really is mad about that. “Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t more into your friend. He seemed very nice.”

  “He is nice.” Lani juts out her hip. Her long braid trails over her shoulder.

  “I had unfinished business with Colt.” I don’t know why I’m defending myself, but Lani is acting so different.

  “I bet.”

  I decide to back away from the conversation for now. I definitely won’t push about Annabelle until Lani starts acting normal again.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” I say.

  Lani picks up the kettlebell for another set. She doesn’t want to talk to me. Maybe it isn’t even worth trying.

  I take a step back.

  But then Lani speaks up. “You have another match, right?”

  I feel some hope that she’s getting over her upset. Maybe she’ll be my assistant, like before. “This Friday.”

  She looks down at the kettlebell as she works it up and down. “Here at Buster’s?”

  “Yes, just like last time.” I hesitate. “Are you going to come?”

  Lani switches arms. “Sure.”

  She still sounds off. I don’t know what to do to fix things. “You going to be my assistant again?” I try to be casual about this.

  “I don’t think I can make it.” Lani finishes the set and turns around to shove the weight back on the shelf.

  “Okay, sure.” She doesn’t seem to notice that she just contradicted herself.

  I’m not sure what else to do, but then I get an idea. “You want to spar a little in the cage?” We used to always have fun doing that. Maybe it would calm things down between us.

  She bends over to pick up her towel. “I’m done for the day, I think.”

  I’m not good at this girlfriend thing. I’ve been on the run, switching jobs and hanging out with a boy who dresses in drag. I don’t know what to say to clear the air. But I want to try.

  “Lani?”

  She whips around. “What is it now?”

  Somehow I’ve made things worse. “I’m really sorry I upset you.”

  Lani clenches her fist around the towel. She seems to be trying to gain some sort of control. Then she fakes a smile. “It’s fine. I’m just having a bad day. I was gone fo
r a funeral.”

  That explains everything. “I’m so sorry. Of course.”

  She waves her hand like it’s nothing. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Let me know if you need anything.”

  Lani nods. “I will.” And she leaves the room.

  I start picking up the scattered kettlebells and sandbags. I’m not sure what to think. And I don’t know if I’m going to get a chance to ask her my questions.

  I wish I had more answers. But the nagging sense that something important is going on won’t leave.

  Chapter Five

  Winter has taken a vacation when I go outside at the end of the day. It’s cool, but the sun is shining bright. Even though this part of LA is seedy and rundown, it doesn’t look too bad when the weather is this pretty.

  I know it’s time to ask Colt about Annie. It’s a little after six, so he should be on his dinner break from training. I tug my phone out of my pocket and call him. I’d rather do this in person, but it can’t wait until Friday. Besides, that’s my match with Diva Delaney, and I will need to focus.

  “Do you have your mouth full?” I ask when he picks up.

  “Not with what I want in it,” he says huskily.

  “Killjoy keeping you strong and fit for me?”

  “Man, everybody is a mess. All they can talk about is you and your hat. And the footage is blowing up all over ESPN. Everyone thinks this is going to make MMA go mainstream.” He laughs. “They seem to forget I still have a whole lineup of matches coming up,” he says. “And here they thought I was distracted.”

  “Is the date for the actual title fight set?” I have no idea how these things work.

  “No. Every fight from now on is televised, so there’s contracts and schedules to deal with.”

  “Wow.” I think about the cameras aiming at me and feel another sense of panic. “Do you think I could get recognized?”

  “You mean as Kettle Belle? I think that cat is out of the bag.”

  “No. Not that.”