Defying the Odds (18 page)

“What happened?” Melody shouted over the roar of the crowd.

Jules turned to her, giving her a wide, bright smile. “He won!”

“Just like that?”
Melody gaped. That was too fast after the past two rounds that had seemed to drag on for an eternity. “It’s over?”

“It’s over!” Jules confirmed, sounding breathless as she spoke loudly over the screaming crowd. “Hooray for jujitsu!”

Melody wasn’t real sure what that meant, but she breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad to see Romeo get
up,
because she was half worried Clay had killed him. He even gave Clay a sportsmanlike half hug, telling her that at the end of the day, after all the fanfare and drama, this was still just a sport. Confetti fell from the ceiling, looking like living glitter under the strobes of colorful lights. Melody finally made sense of the announcer’s enthused yells echoing over the crowd.

“
Clay Powers, reigning heavyweight champion of the world!”

That seemed like a pretty impressive title for a man she’d fallen for over diner fare and coffee. Melody was a bit lost and awed as to how she got to this moment in her life. She felt dazed that she woke up this morning and headed to work, but somehow ended the night in Las Vegas watching Clay doing something most fighters could only dream about.

She thought the belt they put on him was gaudy and tacky and didn’t match Clay at all, but she was happy he’d gotten it. The crowd never once stopped screaming. Even when Clay finally got out of the cage, the sound was booming. Melody’s ears would probably ring for a week.

Then with cameras in his face and bodyguards flanking him, Clay walked over to where Melody and Jules sat facing the arena. Melody jumped forward and reached out to clasp his hands in hers. For one brief moment, time stopped. She and Clay were connecting as if she’d never tried to push him away to begin with, and it felt like her universe clicked back into place.

“Come on, come on!” Clay barked in his usual surly tone, pulling on her hands. “Hurry, Mel!”

Melody understood. There were people everywhere, pressing in against her and Jules. Everyone was trying to touch Clay. The second where time seemed to stop evaporated, pushing everything into fast-forward. Jules leaped over the wall and landed on her feet. Melody followed her, scrambling over the edge with far less grace, but Clay and one his bodyguards helped her down while other people screamed and reached out to Clay.

With two feet on the ground and the push of fans no longer crushing her, Melody breathed a sigh of relief. Clay leaned down, placing a chaste kiss against the top of her head, and she was grateful for it. She needed the connection, but there were too many people watching. Cameras and fans were everywhere. Melody would have died if he made a big production once he got to her.

But he was Clay, and he’d never do that.

Those damn cameras followed them all the way out of the arena and into the dressing rooms. They asked Clay questions that he gave clipped, one-word answers to. He was an amazing fighter but a horrible performer for the masses, and this sport seemed to require some level of showmanship.

Fortunately Clay had a snake charmer for a best friend.

Even after a championship fight, Wyatt didn’t seem to have any problem drawing the focus away from Clay and making
himself
the center of attention. Tony worked on pulling off Clay’s fingerless gloves and cutting the tape off his knuckles while Wyatt started running his mouth to the cameras.

“He was just biding his time. Biding his time and letting
Wellings
wear himself out,” Wyatt was saying to the cameras, the twang to his accent stronger than ever, as if that was part of his act. “This
ain’t
a street fight; this is a championship match. Clay took his hits and looked for a crack in the armor. When he saw it, he went for the takedown, and y’all saw how it ended.
Wellings
is a powerful fighter, but he
ain’t
able to compete with someone like Clay, who’s got a more balanced skill set. That boy’s got no control, and his grappling’s weak. All Clay had to do was get him to the mat.”

“Was Clay playing it low-key on purpose?” one of the interviewers crowding into the little room asked. “Was that part of his strategy?”

“
Wellings
is cocky.” Wyatt shrugged. “If he underestimated Clay, that was his poor strategy and it
ain’t
got
nothing
to do with us. There’s no trickery. Clay saw a weakness, and he capitalized on it.”

“Hey,” Clay said, coming up behind her.

Melody turned from watching Wyatt talk to the cameras. Having witnessed the fight without having a clue what was going on, she was genuinely interested in Wyatt’s breakdown. But Clay clasped her hand in his, heedless of one camera still following his every move, and pulled her through the crowd.

“Come on.”

He found the bathroom in the back of the room, ushered her in, then shut the door in the cameraman’s face while Melody stood there gawking at him.

“They’ll think we’re being inappropriate,” Melody whispered as Clay locked everyone out. “Is this allowed?”

“I don’t really care.” Clay sighed, turning away from the door to step into her personal space. His large hand slid to the back of her neck, his thumb caressing her jawline. His dark eyes studied her in concern. His scowl etched a deep impression on his forehead beneath the brim of his black cap. “Are you okay?”

“Are
you
okay?” she countered with a look of incredulousness. She reached up to delicately touch one of the cuts beneath his left eye. “Your face is sticky.”

“It’s Vaseline.”

Melody frowned. “Why?”

“It keeps the skin from tearing.”

Melody winced. “And, um, what’s grappling?”

“
It’s
ground fighting, like wrestling and jujitsu.”

“And you’re good at that?”

The first smirk of the evening tugged at Clay’s lips. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at it.”

Melody couldn’t help but smile back, her cheeks hurting from the effort. She could hear the chaos outside, but all she knew was Clay’s big body filled up the little bathroom and it felt so good to be surrounded by him again. She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his bare back, and hugged Clay without a care for the sweat dripping off him.

She laid her cheek against his smooth chest and closed her eyes. “I don’t like your chest all shaved.”

“Me neither.” Clay rested his chin against the top of her head. One hand caressed her long ponytail; the other rubbed her back soothingly. “And it itches like hell when it grows back.”

Clay was sweaty and sticky and still humming with an obvious adrenaline rush. There was a whole room of people probably thinking they were doing something really inappropriate, to say nothing of the viewers across America watching the after-fight footage.

Melody was tired. She’d flown for the first time in her life today. She’d sat front row and watched a championship fight. She’d decided she was going to take self-defense classes if it killed her, because she wanted that raw self-confidence Jules had. It was a very eventful day filled with many things to think about, but all Melody could recognize was the low hum of happiness that filled up the bathroom because she was in Clay’s arms again.

“Mel.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t leave me again, okay?” Clay whispered in a voice choked with emotion as he pulled her tighter against him and tilted his head to rest his cheek on top of her head. “’Cause that ’bout killed me.”

“I think Justin knows where I’m at. I’m pretty sure he’s
gonna
come after me.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Letting out the secret felt like breathing out the poison eating at her soul since she’d gotten the letter. “I don’t
wanna
ruin your life too, but I’m so tired of being alone. ’S not fair,
ya
know?”

“So we’ll deal with it together,” Clay said simply, not sounding at all surprised by Melody’s confession. “And if he comes after you, then I’ll have finally found a good use for over twenty years of martial arts training.
Good thing too, ’cause it was starting to feel like a massive waste of my time.”

Melody squeezed her eyes shut tighter and laughed. There was a gaudy championship belt digging into her hip that said he’d already found a pretty good use for those skills, but the crazy thing was, Melody knew he meant what he said.

Melody had forgotten her toothbrush. The hotel gave her a new one. She’d packed all wrong for Las Vegas. Jules told her they’d go shopping while Clay and Wyatt played nice for the promoters. When she realized she’d forgotten a spare change of underwear, Clay suggested she go without, and she agreed that was a good plan.

She sat on the massive bed cross-legged, fiddling with the alarm clock, the cord stretched tight while she pushed buttons. She wore one of Clay’s black UFC shirts covered in sponsors’ logos, her legs looking pale against it. Her long hair hung thick and loose around her shoulders. It reminded Clay of corn silk. It had the same blonde, fluffy consistency. He loved it, because it was soft and welcoming, just like Melody. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and glanced at Clay, who made very slow work of brushing his teeth as he stood there in his boxer briefs staring at her.

“I can’t get the darn thing to work,” she said with a frown. “You think we can order a wake-up call every hour? Do they do that all night long?”

Clay pulled his toothbrush out of his mouth and said past the toothpaste, “I think for the amount of money this room costs, the hotel can send up an orchestra to sit outside the bedroom door and play Beethoven every hour.”

“That
ain’t
a lie,” Melody agreed, falling over the bed to put the alarm clock back on the nightstand. Then she reached for the phone, studying the directory on the side before she put the receiver to her ear and dialed. “Hello, yes, I was wondering, do y’all do wake-up calls at night, ’cause we’ve
gotta
wake up every hour from now till morning.”

Clay put his toothbrush back in his mouth, pretending to brush his teeth while staring at the way his shirt rode up as she lay on her stomach. Her milky thighs were exposed. He tilted his head, glimpsing the round curve of her ass.

“That’s him.
Didja
get to see the fight tonight?” Melody asked, giving Clay a smile. “Yeah, he did
good
. Thank you, I’ll tell him.”

Clay rolled his eyes and went back into the bathroom to brush his teeth. If he stayed there watching Melody twirling her hair between her fingers and talking on the phone, he’d never get done. He made quick work of finishing up and grabbed a towel to better dry his hair. Melody was still on the phone with the front desk, which was sort of amazing. He tossed the towel down and fell into bed next to her. He lay on his side, propping his chin on his hand and giving her a pointed look while she chatted with the operator.

She must have gotten the point because she nodded in understanding. “Okay, well, I
gotta
go now. He’s pretty tired, and if I’m being honest, I’m ’bout to drop too. It was nice talking to you.” After saying good-bye, she clicked the receiver on the phone and turned to give him a smile. “The front desk guy is a big fan of yours. He knew all sorts of stuff ’bout you. He told me you used to be a wrestler in high school. Is that true?”

“Yeah, big deal.”
He gave her a bemused smile. “Lots of guys were wrestlers in high school.”

“You were one of those popular jocks, weren’t
ya
?”

“Not really,” Clay said with a roll of his eyes. “Wyatt was the popular jock. He was handsome and outgoing and everyone loved him. I was the scary foster kid he hung out with.”

Melody reached out, caressing Clay’s still-wet hair, which felt nice because he had a massive headache courtesy of Romeo
Wellings
. He closed his eyes, feeling his heartbeat radiating out from the cuts the doctors had closed using thin pieces of clear medical tape. He knew he was looking rough, but Melody didn’t seem to care.

“How come you were a foster kid?” she asked, still stroking his hair lovingly. “You never told me what happened.”

“My mama had issues, and Garnet
ain’t
exactly the best place to be an addict. The sheriff was always riding her. Big Fred was like Wyatt, a workaholic, nosy as
hell,
always up in everyone’s business. She got tired of the hassle and took off without me.”