Against the Ropes (30 page)

“If he wants to fight, he’ll fight. I won’t be able to stop him.”

Jake hisses in a breath. “You don’t understand. He went crazy this week. It’s like he had a death wish. He challenged the three guys in the state ranked above him. He opened the club every night during the week for the fights. He won every match, and now he’s number one.”

“I thought that was his dream.” I stop just outside a convenience store and lean against the wall. “He said he wanted to be number one in California. He said he would be happy when he got to the top.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

Of course not. His father’s words must still haunt him.

“Why do you need me? We aren’t together anymore.”

“You have to come to the club, Makayla.” Jake’s voice takes on a pleading tone. “The Pulverizer has sent every one of his opponents to the hospital with life-threatening injuries. He trains for months before a fight. He’s won his last fourteen matches all by knockout. He’s been undefeated for six years. But he’s a dirty fighter. If he wasn’t on the underground circuit, he would have been kicked out of the professional leagues. Torment is the first real threat he’s faced in years. He’ll come prepared.”

“Max…Torment can handle him. He’s a good fighter. The best now.”

Jake groans. “Max isn’t ready for this fight. He’s tired, he’s injured, and he’s unfocused. He’s fought more this week than the Pulverizer fights in a year, and he won because he was willing to take risks he normally would never take. He can’t fight like that with the Pulverizer. The guy is good. He’s ready. He’s rested. And he’ll fight dirty. One wrong move and Max will be toast.”

My stomach clenches. “What do you want me to do?”

“Come to the club and talk him out of it. I tried. Rampage tried. Hell, we all tried. Even Sandy. He says he’ll be number one if it kills him. And it might kill him. He’s not thinking clearly, and if he can’t focus, he can’t fight.”

“We broke up. He doesn’t want to see me.”

“Please.”

A sob wells up in my throat. “I’m sorry, Jake. It would just prove to him we were never meant to be together, and it wouldn’t change his mind.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” Jake snaps. “If that’s what you think, then you never really understood him at all.”

***

Too distressed to go home, I head to the critical care wing of the hospital to visit Dr. Drake. I have a book of green slips in one hand and a paper clip heart in the other. I hope he gets the joke.

The hallway is cool and quiet. Critical care is a place of emotional extremes. Lives teeter in the balance. One way and families rejoice. The other and they despair. There is a lot of despair here today and only five rooms are occupied.

Dr. Drake is not in his room. They have taken him for CT scans. I sit in a chair in the hallway to wait, and a man in a brown jacket walks into the room across from me. I recognize him from the donut shop, but he isn’t eating donuts today.

The woman he is visiting must be related. They share the same olive skin, dark hair, and patrician nose. She is on life support. Asleep. The machines in her room whir and beep. The man sits by her bed and holds her hand. A nurse goes in to check the monitors and they share a few words. As she leaves, he calls out, “Thank you, Ms. Maloney.”

His voice is familiar. Very familiar. I walk up to the door and check the name on the chart. Gloria Martinez.

“Excuse me?”

The man looks up. Not a man. A boy. No more than twenty. His eyes are dark circles in a sunken face. A face without hope.

“Are you Sergio?”

I catch a flicker of interest in his eyes and he nods.

“I’m Makayla Delaney. You were chasing me for a debt.”

Myriad emotions cross his face. None of them particularly pleasant. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting a friend.” I take a wild guess given his age and the similarity of his appearance to the woman in the bed. “Is this your mom? Is she the reason you were always calling from the hospital?”

His face crumples. “Yeah. She’s dying. She needs a new heart. But she doesn’t have any medical insurance.”

My heart aches. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve sold everything I have to pay for her treatment,” he says, “but I don’t have enough money to get her on the transplant list. If I’d been able to collect enough to get the bonus, I could have bought her a heart.”

He turns his face away and wipes a tear from his cheek. Sympathetic tears well in my own eyes, and my throat tightens.

“Would my payment have made a difference?”

He shakes his head. “Even if I had pushed all my debtors into making their monthly payments, I wouldn’t have had enough. I needed a big windfall—like someone paying the whole loan off at once.”

“I’m sorry.”

His cheeks redden. “I saw you in the donut shop a while back. Your friend was saying your boyfriend was a billionaire. I thought maybe if I pushed you harder, he might pay off your loan. But you were so nice. I couldn’t go through with it.”

I slump against the door frame. “He’s not a billionaire. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

Sergio gives me a half smile. “Trouble in paradise?”

“We didn’t gel. He needed trust and I couldn’t give it. He’s a violent guy. I was afraid he would hurt me or try to control me.”

“Sounds like Ty. I heard he got your file. That guy is crazy. Always in trouble with the law. Always pounding on people for no reason. Flies off the handle for the smallest things. Threatens people to get his way.”

I take a seat in the chair near the door and frown. “Max isn’t like that. I’ve never seen him hurt someone who didn’t deserve it or ask for it. He never threatened me. He’s controlling in a protective kind of way. He wanted to pay off my loan and I wouldn’t let him.”

Sergio’s eyes widen. “Sounds like a decent kinda guy. Too bad it didn’t work out.”

Understatement of the year.

“I almost quit this job after the first day,” he says. “I’m not Ty. I couldn’t do what he does. I couldn’t handle the screaming and swearing. But we needed the money. My mom told me sometimes you have to see to the heart of a person. Look below the surface. So when they were swearing at me I would listen, and I would try to find out what they were really afraid of. I couldn’t do anything about it. I still had to collect the debt. But it helped me deal with the anger on the surface. And when I could make it easier, I did.”

My breath catches in my throat. I have seen to the heart of Max. I have seen his kindness and compassion. His fierce need to protect. He would never hurt me. I was just afraid to believe it.

“My mom is all I have,” he says quietly. “My dad died when I was little. No brothers or sisters. The rest of the family is in Italy.”

Tears stream down his cheeks, but this time he doesn’t turn away. I fish around in my purse for a tissue and see the fax receipt.

Suddenly I have an idea. A windfall for Sergio. Forgiveness for me.

I hand Sergio the tissue. “I think I may be able to help you, but we’ll need to go to your office and intercept a fax. And I need a ride to a fight club in Ghost Town.”

“You a fighter?”

My lips curl into a smile. “I am a fighter and I’m going to fight to win back my decent kinda guy.”

Don’t you dare leave me again

Sergio pulls up outside the front doors of Redemption. His face is tight with emotion. Max’s payment went through, and now that we retrieved the fax, it won’t be sent back. His mother will have a new heart and a chance at a longer life.

“Are you sure you want me to leave you here? It seems kinda rough for a girl like you.”

“It’s perfect for a girl like me.”

Sergio leans over and grabs my hand. “I don’t know how to thank you. I was such a bastard on the phone, and it killed me. I wasn’t lying when I said you were the nicest debtor on my list.”

“You’ll have to thank Max. He’s the one who made the payment. I told him once I thought people were essentially good. It never occurred to me I wasn’t giving him the same benefit of the doubt.”

“Good luck.”

“Bye, Sergio. Stay in touch and let me know how your mom is doing. You know where to find me.”

I close the door and race over to Amanda, waiting at the entrance.

“I finished up at work just before I got your text,” she says. “I got here just a few minutes ago.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Obsidian booms when we push open the door. “I stalled the lockdown as long as I could. The main event is about to begin. Grab your kit and let’s go.”

“That’s one hell of a voice you’ve got there.” Amanda follows us to the first aid room and waits while I grab my kit.

“He’s gay,” I say over my shoulder.

“Doesn’t bother me.”

Obsidian laughs. “I’ve already got twice as much trouble as I need, but when I’m free again, kitten, I’ll look you up. I’ve always had a soft spot for angels.”

We race through the training area and head toward the ring. Redemption is packed. Standing room only. The air is thick with anticipation. The club smells of stale sweat, cheap perfume, plastic mats, and disinfectant.

We skirt around the crowds and make it as far as the pen before Jake blocks our way. A black bandana holds back his mass of curls and the light glints off his oiled six-pack, visible above his low-slung jeans.

His eyes flick from me to Amanda and back to me. “Where the fuck were you? You’re too late.”

In the distance, flesh slams on flesh. The crowd cheers.

“Get out of the way. I need to see him.”

Jake folds his arms across his chest. “He doesn’t need to see you. Not now. He delayed the fight as long as he could. After I told him I called you, he was sure you would come. He didn’t want to fight unless you were here. Now, you’ll just be a distraction. You’ll never change his mind.”

“I’m not here to change his mind. I’m here to support him. And if he gets hurt, I’ll take care of him.”

I try to get around him but he stops me with a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Jake. Let her through. There’s no need to be cruel.” Amanda finds her voice and Jake turns in her direction. There is so much heat in the look they share, I take an involuntary step back.

“You would know about cruel. You broke up with me over nothing and jumped into bed with someone else so fast it made my head spin. I was just a game to you.”

Amanda sucks in a breath. “It wasn’t like that. You don’t understand.”

Jake steps toward her and takes her chin between his thumb and his index finger. He tilts her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I understand. Perfectly. You don’t respect men. You reel them in, you play with them, and then you throw them away. But I’m not like the others, sugar. It doesn’t work that way with me. When I want a woman, I don’t play around.” His chest heaves and his body trembles. For a second I think—no, hope—he will kiss her, but then he lets her go and steps away.

Amanda sucks in a breath and swallows. “You’re making a mistake.”

Jake folds his arms. “You made the mistake, Amanda. We had something special and you threw it away.”

Her face crumples. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt?”

“I thought you knew.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I thought you felt the same way.”

Someone groans. A body hits the mat. I push past Jake and run toward the ring, using my first aid kit as a battering ram. When I reach the raised platform, I stagger back in relief. The warm-up fighters are just leaving the ring. I’m not too late after all.

Max and the Pulverizer climb into their corners. The crowd cheers. Max’s tattoos gleam in the overhead light. A sweaty Pulverizer glows like a honey-glazed ham.

Amanda comes up beside me, and her eyes widen. “Ohmigod,” she breathes. “He’s a mammoth. They must have just pulled him out of the ice. He’s three times the size of Max. Look at his hands. They’re like bricks.” She lifts an eyebrow. “You know what they say about the size of a man’s hands.”

“Amanda! Do you ever think about anything except sex?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes. I think about debt collectors chasing my best friend, the occasional legal brief, but that’s it.”

“Max is a good fighter. He’ll use brains instead of brawn.”

“Brains aren’t going to save him,” she hisses. “One hit from the Pulverizer and his head will split open like a melon.”

“Amanda!”

“Sorry. It just doesn’t seem like a fair fight.”

The crowd hoots and hollers. I turn back to the ring; Pinkaluscious climbs through the ropes, clad in her trademark pink Lycra. Her horsehair ponytail flaps in the nonexistent breeze. She trots over to Max and throws her arms around him. This time, however, she doesn’t stop at a hug. She presses her mouth to his lips and gives him a deep, long, wet kiss. The crowd heckles. My stomach heaves.

“Maybe I made a mistake.”

“No.” Amanda grabs my arm and holds me fast. “They aren’t together. He still wants you.”

“How could you possibly know that?” My voice rises high enough to attract the attention of the people around us.

“Because he’s looking at you,” she murmurs. “And his heart is in his eyes.”

I glance up. Max is watching me. Like magic, his hard eyes heat and soften. A smile ghosts his lips. In that split second, I know I am forgiven. And I know something else.

I love him.

Obsidian clears out the front row with a low growl, and we take our seats behind the Pulverizer. I drum my fingers on the first aid kit until Amanda smacks my hand to make me stop.

The bell rings. Max and the Pulverizer dance around, feeling each other out. The Pulverizer moves forward with a jab and front kick, and Max comes back with a one-two punch. The Pulverizer staggers back and Max hits him again, this time in the jaw. My stomach clenches but I refuse to take my eyes off the ring.

The Pulverizer shakes his head and charges in with a few more right hooks. Max avoids them easily, but the Pulverizer is unstoppable. He tries to take Max down, but Max evades him and gives him another double punch. He moves in and out so fast it looks like he’s dancing.

“Max…Torment seems to have the edge so far,” I whisper to Obsidian.

“That’s because he’s dominant in boxing. As long as he stays on his feet, he’ll be able to hold his own. But he’ll be in trouble on the mat. The Pulverizer is known for his grapple technique. He used to be a pro wrestler.”

The Pulverizer attacks Max with kicks from his long legs. Max sidesteps them and jabs him in the nose. Blood trickles over the Pulverizer’s lip. The round ends and Max retreats to his corner. Jake, Homicide, and Blade Saw give him water, pat him down, and talk him up.

The bell rings and Max goes on the attack, thudding his knee into the Pulverizer’s solar plexus and then taking him down to the mat.

“That’s a double-leg takedown,” I say to Amanda. She snorts a laugh and shakes her head. “You’ve been hanging out here way too much. I never thought I’d hear you of all people describing fight moves to me.”

“The Pulverizer is going for a guillotine,” Obsidian says.

Sounds scary. I clutch the handle of the first aid kit so hard, my knuckles turn white.

The fighters break apart and grapple on the mat. Obsidian lets out a long, low whistle. “Didn’t slow Torment down. He’s looking for a kimura now.”

“Watch,” I say to Amanda. “He’ll twist himself around the Pulverizer like a pretzel.”

The pretzel never happens. Instead Max gets on top of the Pulverizer and hammers him with punches.

The second round ends and I take a deep breath. So far so good. I’m still here. My dinner is still in my stomach. Max isn’t seriously injured.

The Pulverizer starts the third round with a slew of desperate punches. His long arms windmill around and Max gets caught. He reels back, and the Pulverizer moves in with one brutal punch after another. He drops to the mat, and the Pulverizer keeps on him. Punch after punch. Max’s face is covered in blood. He rolls toward the ropes, but he doesn’t tap out.

My entire body seizes up. I scream at Obsidian to stop the fight. I yell for Jake. Homicide. Anybody. I run up to the ring. Amanda is right behind me.

Shilla the Killa in her striped referee shirt calls a halt. She waves the Pulverizer to the corner nearest us and crouches down beside Max. Sweat drips off the Pulverizer’s back and splashes on the floor. Our noses wrinkle. The Pulverizer reaches behind him and digs into his shorts. Amanda and I share a glance and mouth to each other, “Gross.”

What is not gross, however, is the set of brass knuckles he pulls out of God knows where. Only Amanda and I, standing directly behind him, see him slip them on seconds before Shilla says the fight can go on.

Max struggles to a crouch. The Pulverizer strides across the mat toward him.

“Max,” I scream. “He’s got a weapon.” But I’m too late. The Pulverizer smashes his fist into Max’s skull. One hit is all it takes. Brass knuckles are illegal for a reason. Max sags to his knees, and I am up the stairs and in the ring, running, running across the mat. I throw myself between them. I hold up my hands and scream.

“Enough. He’s down. Leave him alone.”

No one steps into the ring. No one comes to help us. Jake leans over the ropes and shakes his head. Max is down, but he isn’t limp and he hasn’t tapped out. I’m breaking the rules.

I don’t fucking care.

Light streams into my eyes casting the Pulverizer in shadow. Darkness flickers at the corners of my mind. He grabs my wrists and lifts me up in the air and away from Max. I kick. I scream. My foot hits his sternum. He drops me and I crawl back to Max. The Pulverizer grabs me around the waist and tosses me through the air.

My back smacks hard against the pole. Dazed, I slide to the mat. My vision wavers. I fumble behind me, trying to orient myself and then I feel the handle of the first aid kit slide into my hand. I look over my shoulder. Amanda.

“He needs you,” she says quietly.

I push myself to my feet. My missing memories come flooding back. Susie pushing the bat into my hand. My father lunging at my mother. My first pathetic attempt to slow him down. My second swing, from up by my ear like Grandpa Joe showed me. The crack as the bat hit his head. Susie and I watching him crumple to the ground, moaning. I wasn’t a victim. I had fight. I didn’t give up then. I won’t give up now.

I stalk across the mat. The Pulverizer is kicking Max in the ribs. Max is moaning, too far gone to tap out. I don’t hesitate. I break into a run and aim the end of the first aid kit at his diaphragm, exactly where Max hit Homicide. One hit had Homicide down on the mat. I don’t need to be strong. I need to be accurate. I never thought my EMT training would be so useful.

The Pulverizer does not see me coming. My strike is dead on. He falls to the ground, gasping for air. He taps out and his handlers run in to help him.

I drop to my knees beside Max. He isn’t moving. His face is gray and his skin is clammy. I check his pupils and sit back on my heels. Dread winds its way up my spine and through my body to squeeze my heart. He’s going to die. I never got to tell him I love him.

Amanda climbs into the ring and sits beside me. “Do something. Help him.”

“I’m not a paramedic. I can’t help him. Call 911.”

“Jake called them already, but right now, you’re all he’s got.” She opens my first aid kit. “Tell me what to do.”

“Pray.”

“No,” she shouts. “You can do this. You can save him.”

Max’s eyes flicker open. He looks around and his eyes meet mine. He lifts his hand and strokes my cheek. “Baby,” he whispers, “I’m glad you’re here.” His eyes close and his body goes limp.

I can’t see through the tears streaming down my cheeks. “Max!” I grab his shoulders. “Max. Don’t you dare leave me again. Once was enough.”

Amanda fumbles in my first aid kit. “I guess I’ll have to treat him myself. Looks like he needs a bandage on his head.”

She unrolls a tensor bandage, and I grab her wrist. “You can’t wrap that around his head. We need gauze.”

“Gauze it is.” She hands me the sterile package, and I tear it open and press it to the bleeding wound on Max’s head.

“I guess we should poke him with something next.” She pulls out an epinephrine injector. “This looks painful. Where should I stick it?”

“No.” I grab the injector and throw it back. “That’s not what he needs right now.”

“What does he need?”

“Ice. Stabilization. I need to check his pulse and breathing. I need a blanket.” I glance over at her smiling face. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Good,” she says. “Now he has a chance.”

***

Four hours later, Max is wheeled into his room in the ICU. Colton and I jump up from our chairs. The attending physician informs us the tests are clear. No fractures or brain damage. He diagnoses brain swelling and a severe concussion. He can’t predict when Max will regain consciousness.

“Mr. Huntington has a hard head,” Colton murmurs after the doctor leaves.

“The hardest.”

Colton snorts a laugh, and I manage a half smile.

“Am I missing the party?” Pinkaluscious pulls back the curtain. Although she is almost unrecognizable in dress pants, pearls, and a silk blouse, I would recognize that fake, platinum blond hair anywhere.

“Sandy.” Colton holds out his arms.

“Oh, Colton.” Pinkaluscious evades his arms and air-kisses him. The urge to toss her out on her bony ass surges through me like a tidal wave—or maybe I should take a picture and post it on Twitter.