Back in Black (33 page)

Trying a roundabout way to get the reply he wanted, Drew asked, “Do you have family here?”

“They’re scattered. I have relatives an hour or so away, some that are out west, a few more to the south.” She shrugged. “We’re all resigned to traveling for visits.”

“So . . . what do you think of Vegas?”

“It’s great for gambling and live shows.” She yawned. “But Drew, we weren’t really there long enough for me to form any new opinions on it.”

“Yeah.” Frustration bit into him. “I’d meant to show you around a little. Dinner, a little nightlife, and then we could have gone to my house there.”

She studied him. “I can see you fitting right in with Los Angeles or Vegas.”

“I always thought so, too, that’s why I have houses in both cities. I like L.A. more, though.” And eventually, he did want to return there. “But it’s not bad here. I came to visit because, well, the fighters seemed to be congregating here.”

She laughed with him. “Once Havoc and Simon set up shop, the others followed?”

“Fighters will always gravitate to the best camps. I like to scope out new talent, so . . .” He shrugged. “Here I am.”

“I’m surprised you bought a house.”

“I like to be comfortable wherever I go.”

“You’re spoiled rotten.” Her grin morphed into another yawn.

He reached for her hand. “I’m damned sorry you got dragged into all this.”

Her smile was a pale imitation of her usual vitality. “I’m a big girl, Drew. I can handle it.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.” Figures that the one time he wanted to impress a woman, he’d instead gotten her fired, brought a lunatic’s revenge down on her, and run her ragged. They stopped at a light, and he turned to look at her. “I’ve been thinking about this mess.”

One brow lifted. “Come to any conclusions?”

“Yeah. We need to do a phone conference.”

The sooner he settled this bullshit, the sooner he could concentrate on getting Gillian enmeshed into his life—on a permanent basis. He didn’t like leaving anything to chance. If he waited too long, she might make plans for moving on without him even knowing it.

“I want to tie in with my Internet guy, some reporters, maybe even ESPN. I want stuff posted all over the Web, in the papers, and on TV if I can manage it.”

“When?”

“Soon as possible. Tonight sometime.”

Slowly, Gillian straightened and turned to him as much as the seat belt would allow. “You can arrange it that quickly?”

He gave her a look. “Yeah, no problem.”

She drew a tired breath. “Is this where I should remind you that Fran said no press conferences?”

“I know what she said, but she’s wrong. The garbage thrown out there about Brett is wrong. The threats are wrong.” He drew a breath. “I’m going to attack Millie Christian worse than she ever thought possible.”

To his surprise, Gillian didn’t shy away from that ferocious suggestion. She pondered it, nodding slowly, and then—she agreed.

“You want to draw her out, right?”

Damn, she was smart. Not much got by Ms. Gillian Noode. “And deflect the focus. If that crazy bitch thought I was harsh last time, she hasn’t seen anything yet. But I won’t lie, Gillian. Every damn word I say about her will be true. And it’ll be enough to bring her to her knees.”

“Or make her crack?”

“Exactly.”

“With your particular spin on it, I don’t doubt it.” Gillian’s mouth twitched. “You do have a way with four-letter words.”

He gave one hard nod. “Release me from my promise to tone it down in public.”

Gillian snorted. “Like that promise slowed you down anyway.”

Very serious, Drew said, “What you think is important to me, so yeah, it slowed me down.” He half grinned. “I did try, honey. If I wasn’t always successful, well, you have to give me credit for effort.”

Either she didn’t get his sincerity or she chose to ignore it, because when the light changed to green, she went right back to talking about the press conference.

“If you want me to set up the conference call, I’ll need some names and numbers.”

Warmth filtered through Drew, helping to ease his anger at the current situation. Helplessness sucked, and that was how it all made him feel: helpless. He was a control freak and he knew it. He accepted it about himself. And as such, it wasn’t easy for him to be around most people, especially when furious.

But Gillian . . . she not only softened his edge of rage with her mere presence, she sort of took him in stride and assisted where she could.

“Tell you what, we’re still an hour from my house. Why don’t you nap and I’ll make the arrangements?” His phone was practically an extension of his body, but it was programmed to be hands-free in the car. He could easily drive and make calls at the same time.

“I can’t nap while you do all the work.”

He went from holding her hand to smoothing over her thigh. “I need you rested up.”

“Why?”

His muscles tightened with the now familiar mix of burning lust and tender emotion. A potent combo, at least for his libido.

“Several reasons.”
But only one that really mattered to him.
“Brett’s not answering his cell, so I have to do a face-to-face with him. Just as the Powers That Be don’t want me working for another fight organization, I don’t want Brett fighting for anyone but us.”

“He’s that good?”

“Championship material, yeah. I want you with me when I hunt him down.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you out of my sight until the danger is over. But also because you’re a good influence.”

She made a very unladylike sound of skepticism.

Drew let that slide. Later, he’d convince her of how she affected him. “It could take a few hours, depending on how pissed Brett is and how determined he is to cut out on the SBC and me. And I can’t go looking for him until after we do the press bit, so it could end up being late.”

“Afraid I’ll be too muzzy brained to be of use to you?”

Oh, hell, she’d be of use to him, all right. Gillian had the unique ability to distract him from business. He wanted her enough that being with her could easily become a priority.

Drew curved his hand to cup more of her soft inner thigh. So hot and smooth . . .

“Actually, I’m afraid you’ll be too tired to say yes when, after we iron out all this shit, I want to strip you naked and spend an hour or two making you scream.”

“Oh. When you put it like that . . .” Gillian’s blue eyes heated like the center of a flame. She drew a short, shuddering breath. “Perhaps I should nap just a little. After all, I take great pride in my . . . performance. I’ll need some rest to be at my best.”

With that sexual taunt thrown out there, she turned into the passenger door, got cozy, and closed her eyes.

But Drew saw the smile on her lips.

Yeah, Gillian was easy, all right. Easy to talk to, easy to joke with, to work with.

And very easy to love.

GIDDY with recent accomplishments, Millie sat at her desk and opened up the browser. She couldn’t stop chuckling as she remembered the horrified look of shock on Audrey’s face.

How dare that bitch choose Brett over her? Screwing the guy was one thing; she had nothing against that. A stud should never be wasted. Like that photographer loser . . .

He’d been so anxious to please, so titillated at the idea of joining her in her efforts to expose Drew Black for the bastard she knew him to be. But he’d proven too stupid to risk having around.

It was bad enough that he’d botched the bomb threat. But he’d almost let Drew catch him taking photographs, too. That was something she couldn’t allow. Loose lips sank ships, and really, who’d miss that creep anyway?

It sucked that she hadn’t gotten the photographs first, but eventually they’d be released.

For a little while there, Millie had considered Dickey Thompson as a possible conspirator. Even with his cauliflower ears, he was gorgeous, built like steel, and he looked like he could go all night long. After his girlfriend dumped him, he should have been easy pickings.

Unfortunately, the fool was all about the SBC and protecting the devil at the helm. She’d figured that out easily enough. So, fuck him. Dickey Thompson could go down with the rest of the organization, as far as she cared.

Millie first looked up news of the fire, but only found one small account. Apparently no one cared when a house in the slums turned into kindling. The report said that no one had perished, but that was okay. Brett would get the message anyway.

And so would Audrey.

She laughed again, imagining the fear that Audrey was starting to feel. She might even have some suspicions, but she couldn’t prove a damn thing. This time, Millie had unfailingly covered her trail. No more anger-management courses for her.

Next, Millie pulled up the article she’d posted on Brett. How easy it had been to dig up the dirt from his past. Even his mother and father hadn’t wanted him, but Audrey, damn her, chose to stick by his side no matter what. After all the work they’d done, all the work
she’d
done, to reveal the SBC and Drew Black as evil, blood-hungry, violence-mongering pricks, Audrey had still turned her back on them for a
man
.

And not just a man, but a fighter, their
enemy
. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Audrey deserved whatever she got.

Hunkering in front of her laptop, Millie enjoyed all the comments from posters who wanted to support Brett in his time of need—something she knew he’d hate—when up popped a new headline.

The owner of the site encouraged everyone to check out a live news conference from Drew Black. Live? What was that demon up to now?

Millie read a follow-up comment from someone bouncing back and forth between the sites. It read:
Dude, he’s destroying that WAVS chick. You have to check it out!

More posts popped up in agreement, most of them thrilled by what was surely another unjustified attack against her.

Millie went cold inside. No, Drew wouldn’t dare. Not now, not with his job gone and his whore exposed. Even an idiot would have enough sense to lie low, to ride out the storm without more public exposure.

Feeling numb, Millie clicked on the link—and reeled back in disbelief when Drew Black’s voice came through her computer. He
was
doing this live, right now, despite everything.

She started breathing hard and fast. Humiliation and rage expanded in an explosion of emotion that blocked part of the garbage Drew Black spewed for all to hear.

But key words, like
fucking nutcase
, and
sick idiot
, and
pathetic loser out for revenge
, all seeped into her burning brain.

The fury built, boiled, until Millie snatched up the laptop and flung it across the room with a guttural scream of rage. The screen cracked and hinges broke.

Standing, panting, her hands in fists and her eyes burning, she focused on one thing. Only one.

Making Drew Black pay.

 

 

AUDREY was a mess, and she knew it. Her eyes were not only red from fighting tears, but because of the smoke. Her wrinkled clothes and tangled hair smelled of smoke, too. She looked like a walking disaster.

She’d taken Spice straight to her apartment and set her up in the kitchen with a makeshift litter box, a water bowl, and a soft bed of towels. Even though the cat seemed fine, she might need to see a vet. Reaching Brett was now more important than ever.

If he wouldn’t answer her calls, she’d just have to go to him. If he went back to his apartment without knowing . . . She shuddered. He had to be told about the fire and where to find Spice.

She called again, and this time she left a message, saying, “Look, I know you must hate me right now, but I have to talk to you. It’s important. I . . . I have Spice. She’s fine. I just wanted you to know. I’ll explain when you call me back or . . . I see you.”

When she pulled up in front of Roger’s Rodeo, she searched the lot and found what she thought was Brett’s black truck. Her chest hurt at the thought of confronting him before a crowd. Not that she believed Brett would go out of his way to humiliate her. He wasn’t like that. But a cold shoulder would accomplish the same thing.

After rubbing her tired eyes one more time, Audrey put a hand over her thudding heart and left her car. People glanced her way as she walked into the bar, making her even more self-conscious about her disheveled clothes and hair.

She was standing at the outskirts of the main room, working up her courage and conviction, when a big, handsome man stepped in front of her. After blinking fast, Audrey recognized him as the fighter Havoc Conor.

He tilted his head to study her with an unreadable expression, making note of her rumpled appearance. “You’re Audrey Porter, aren’t you?”

Her nervousness grew, but she wouldn’t be driven away before seeing Brett. She nodded. “Yes.”