Fighter Daddy: A Bad Boy Secret Baby MMA Sports Romance (17 page)

T
he last few
days have been a nightmare, but Ricky is doing his best to make sure the limo ride to the arena is worse. I'm forced to sit next to him, his hand around my shoulders. Victor and Lee sit opposite of us and Lee looks outright murderous. Dr. Morris is with us too, sitting with his side to us, keeping an eye on my condition.

Dr. Morris has been nice to me. I've been using him to send messages to Lee. With nothing else to do, I'm pretty sure I've read every word ever written about Sam. I pass the information I think could be useful on to Lee through the doctor. Fighting patterns, known injuries, moves that have worked—if temporarily—against him.

I don't know if it helps or if Lee already knows it all. All I know is that it's something to do other than to wait for the man I love to die. If even a single piece of it helps him in the cage, it's worth it.

Ricky seemed surprised that I wanted to go to the match. He reminded me a bit sharply that I never enjoyed violence before and doubted if it would do me any good. I was petrified at that moment. Lee was very clear about it. I needed to be at the match. I still don't know why, but I trust him. I wouldn't miss it, even if I doubt I'll see a second of it. I don't think I can watch.

I convinced Ricky that it is to say goodbye to Lee. There was a weird look in his eyes, but he eventually agreed.

"It might be good," he said. "To see him brought down."

I know my fate is hanging in the balance here, but ever since I found out about Sam, it seems oddly irrelevant. Lee's
life
is at stake.

Honestly, I don't know how he hasn't attacked Ricky yet. When he came to tell me about Philip, I was so furious I had to resist clawing Ricky's eyes out the next time I saw him. Lee remained stoic, but I saw the rage in his eyes.

I guess Ricky felt the fuck-up was his, so that one day he allowed Lee to stay with me longer than usual. No touching of course, and Victor was there to make sure we didn't get too friendly, but I at least got to spend time with him. Every second of it hurt when I remembered Sam. I've been having nightmares for weeks.

And still, this is worse.

Ricky is doing it on purpose. His arm is around me, kissing my neck, and pressing his lips to mine. I can't bring myself to respond, but I don't think he cares. He owns me. Why should he bother with how I feel? To put the cherry on top, he keeps sliding his hand over my stomach, the least subtle promise ever.

I keep thinking of our baby, wondering what will happen depending on how it goes today. If Lee wins, if everything goes the way we want, there might be a life for us. And if one single thing goes wrong, well. I don't think my child will ever see their first birthday.

All the better, since I don't think I have it in me to explain why there is no daddy, of how I saw Lee smashed to pieces in the ring.

I see Lee's hands shake so hard he has to ball them into fists. Every time Ricky touches me, I see his desire to charge forward and rip me from his grasp. I send him an apologetic look, but I know it doesn't help. Seeing me with Ricky is pushing his buttons. If he loses his cool in the cage, with Sam... I can't bear to think of that. I
need
him to swallow his pride today, but it's Lee. That is not going to happen.

I need a second to reassure him it's going to be all right. One moment to remind him he
has
to focus on Sam right now.

This evening is a full-grown house of terrors. Everything teeters at the edge of falling apart at the smallest push.

And I don't know if Aunt Susan's still alive. I haven't spoken to her after Philip. I asked Ricky, but he outright refused me. I don't know why. Maybe he's being cruel, maybe there isn't someone to talk to anymore.

Ricky pulls me closer to him again and I see Lee's fingers twitch. Victor is watching him like a hawk. Waiting for him to slip up, give him the slightest excuse...

Absolutely no part of me wants to see the match begin, but I couldn't be happier when the limo pulls to a stop in front of the arena. At least I don't have to watch Lee gritting his teeth anymore and I can slip away from Ricky's nauseating grip. His touch is repulsive to me, but I pray he doesn't notice this right now. He can't send me away when we're this close.

I can't help wondering what Lee has in mind.

T
he driver opens
the limo door. Lee gets out first, with one last look at me, and I hear the crowds roaring wildly outside. They love him. Maybe because they expect to see him being beaten within an inch of his life. Maybe even further.

We wait until he's moved on and follow him. I walk with Ricky, and Dr. Morris excuses himself for a second. I watch him go, knowing he carries a last-moment message to Lee, in case I don't get the chance to deliver it myself. Then Ricky leads me to the grand hall that hosts this historic match. Victor follows us like a dog.

In secret, I've tried to heal as much as I'm able. For Ricky, I still limp a bit, but I can actually walk at a normal pace now. Even that feels like an achievement. And here I am, holding the arm of the guy who had me shot.

Our seats are right by the cage. I watch the octagon with dread, listening to the buzz around us. They're all talking about the fight, but no one is saying they want it to be a nice one. This is a martial arts match. The audience paid good money to see the fighters get real and show what they're made of.

I would say letting Sam Unbroken into a cage is a cheap trick on its own.

I count the minutes in my head after we sit down. Dr. Morris isn't back yet, which is another concern for me, but mostly I need to see Lee. After I figure I've sat down for the appropriate amount of time, I excuse myself to the bathroom. Victor comes with me, of course, while I see Ricky moving to greet a business associate
or whoever else he's shaking hands with.

The guy looks very serious. Even Ricky seems humbled a bit. I wish I could enjoy the scene more, but I need to lose Victor.

Outrunning him is out of the question, so that leaves hide-and-seek. We're in a huge arena with thousands of spectators, all crowding and moving around. I slip a black scarf out of my purse. I'm wearing a dress tonight, a form-fitting red one without straps.

I wait for the moment when Victor's attention is caught by a guy he knows and I disappear between people. I pull the scarf over my shoulders as I hear his angry shout. I press on, going between people, feeling the pain in my side from the wound. It's fine these days, as fine as a wound can be. But Dr. Morris warned I can't overexert myself.

Covering my shoulders with the scarf, I move away, not looking back. It's not the best camouflage, but it's all I have. I'm hoping Victor is looking for a girl in a red dress and that he doesn't remember my hairdo. I put it up exactly for this. When it's loose it's too recognizable.

Getting to see Lee isn't as difficult as I'd feared. I had a whole array of excuses in mind, but the guys on his team are Ricky's. They take one look at me and let me pass without question.

I slip into the dressing room.

"Lee!"

His arms close around me, making me wince in pain, but I swallow it. Nothing could make me pull away now, wrapped in his hot embrace. Lee's holding me against him, my head resting against his shoulder. His breathing is still erratic and he's panting slightly. He's been warming up. In turn, being near him relaxes me. I cuddle myself closer to him, breathe in his scent, more masculine than anyone else I know.

"You shouldn't be here," he says, but I see the glint of amusement in his eyes. "Victor is going to be pissed."

"I don't care," I tell him. "This is the last night, right? One way or another, it all ends today?"

Lee nods, kissing me again. I fight the terrible urge to ask him if he's afraid. I think that even if he was, he'd never admit to it.

I kiss my savior so hard it hurts, but I can't stop myself. I need to tell him all the things I have ever felt about him, because I might never get the chance again.

"I had such a crush on you in high school," I whisper into the kiss.

Lee chuckles, caressing my back and my hips appreciatively.

"
I know
," he says.

Only the wink is missing from the stupid jock I once fell for. God, girls are hopeless, but look at the boy now. Standing before me, tall and tough to the bone, ready to take on a monster for me. I've been trying to justify everything I've done with the idea that it's a fling, but I know it is not. I don't think I can let Lee go. It might be ridiculous and he's certainly not the type of guy I imagined myself with, but what can you do about your own heart?

I tell him some of it, apparently, because he's smirking again.

"I won't let you go," he tells me firmly and I moan when he kisses me. "You're mine, Raina. You've always been mine, ever since high school. We just didn't know it then."

"I don't
belong
to anyone," I tease, but Lee gives me a dark, lusty look that is quickly convincing me otherwise.

"You do to me," he says, stating it like a fact.

I should protest. I should be appalled at the idea of being someone's property again, but from Lee's mouth, it turns me on and I want it badly to be true. I bite my lip and Lee pushes me gently against the wall of his dressing room.

Pressed against him, it feels like I'm caught between two rock walls. Lee's chest is bare; he's already in his fighting clothes, nothing more than pants and short fingerless gloves. I want to stay here forever, let Lee slowly hump against me, kissing my neck and sliding his hands all over me.

"
Yes
," I admit when he bites my ear possessively, marking me. "I'm yours."

"Don't forget it," Lee warns me. "I lost you for years, but now that I've found you again, there ain't a man who will take you from me. When this fight is done, you are my girl and Ricky is history. I won't let him hurt us ever again. Not you and not our baby."

"Lee, but Sam..."

The words are finally leaving my mouth. I've spoken his name, something I've been actively avoiding.

"Sam Unbroken is nothing," Lee says.

"Don't lie to me," I say, pushing him away, but he doesn't let me. "Don't lie, Lee, not now."

"I'm not," he assures me. "Sam's a tough opponent, but I'll win, I promise."

"You can't guarantee that."

"I can. The prize is good enough."

"Ricky doesn't care about the money. You have to know that—"

"I'm not talking about the money," Lee growls.

He keeps catching me off-guard with brutal honesty and it is always so much better than any rehearsed words. I want to say something like that, make him be the one standing there speechless, but nothing else comes to mind but:

"I love you."

Oh, that works too. Lee's eyes flash before he grabs me and kisses the air out of my lungs. I cling to him, returning the kiss, running my hands down his back as he pulls my hair. We don't part until I'm as out of breath as he is.

"I know," he says and this time he
does
wink.

I want to hate him for it, but I find myself grinning. It's so Lee, the boy I remember from high school, who walked around with an air of superiority. Only it was as deserved then as it is now, so I could never truly be mad at him.

"I love you too," he adds finally when I attempt to push him away again.

He lifts my chin up to look him straight in the eye again.

"I don't fight Sam for any girl."

"
I know
."

We're interrupted by a guy who comes to tell Lee he's expected soon. That means I also have to go. These might be my last words to Lee.

"Don't let Ricky distract you," I tell him, the words pouring out of my mouth. "He'll try, you know that. Don't give him the satisfaction. Please. Focus on Sam, and... don't get hurt."

"I won't," he says. "You stop worrying. I won't let a dick like Ricky walk out of here with you and my child. He had his fun, now I'll have mine. Today will be the last day he ever lays his hands on you."

I kiss him one more time, putting every ounce of desperation into it. I pull myself up, holding onto Lee's wide shoulders, rising to my tiptoes to fully taste him, and let him plunge his tongue into my mouth. I can't bring myself to let go, but Lee needs to prepare. Gently but firmly he pushes me toward the door.

"I'll see you after the fight."

For some reason, his words make me shiver in fear.

"Don't die, Lee," I beg him. "Just don't die out there."

I
get back
to my seat to find Ricky angrier than I've ever seen him. In fact, I don't think I've ever really seen Ricky mad. He's been upset, annoyed, but truly, honestly furious? It's not like him to show that much emotion.

"Where were you?" he demands, pulling me to my seat more roughly than I'd like.

His hand is hurting my arm, but I don't give him the satisfaction.

"In the bathroom," I say, appearing to be confused. "I lost Victor in the crowds and there was a line."

He doesn't believe me, I can see that. I'm beyond caring, though. I don't like gambling, but right at this moment I'm betting my life and my fate on the outcome of this match. I sit and try to breathe as the fighters are led to the cage.

Sam Unbroken is the first man to take my eyes off Lee, but not in a good way. My mouth drops. He's a towering giant, twice as tall as he is wide, with long arms and merciless eyes.

Dr. Morris joins us at last. I send him a desperate look, my last hope. He nods to me. At least he delivered my last tip. I breathe in deeply, trying to assure myself everything will be fine. I've done all I could, even if it isn't much. Everything is up to Lee now.

I
think
I hear Raina scream.

I must imagine it, because it's impossible to hear anything right now. The arena is going insane with bloodthirsty roaring. I can barely hear the referee telling us about rules we know already and have very little intention of following.

Raina was right about one thing. In the cage, there is no other priority other than Sam. He looks peaceful enough now, but that's the giant build. For some reason, all big guys like that look like cuddly bears. I know better. This cuddly guy is perfectly able to rip me in two if I give him the chance.

I don't intend to.

Despite myself, my eyes flick over to Raina. She's pale like a ghost, her mouth hanging open, clutching her scarf. An appropriate reaction to seeing Sam for the first time.

I take a good look at my opponent while I still can. The judge is introducing us, as if we need introduction, and I see a glint of murder in Sam's eyes. There is a nasty smirk that discards the entire cuddly bear image to the wind in an instant. I was interested in whether he'd mind trying to kill me. Apparently he doesn't.

Sam really is a freak show. We wouldn't be matched in any official tournament. I'm not anywhere near his weight class. He's a super heavyweight and I'm a light heavyweight the last I checked. But this isn't anything official. This is exactly what I said. A freak show.

It's a common enough thing with fighting sports. People want their circus and Sam is a guaranteed seat-filler. And I'm the punk of the day, but I intend to make all of them eat their words.

Compared to this, Carson was a walk in the park, but the twist remains the same.

I'm supposed to go down. Everyone here is expecting me to, but I'm going to disappoint them. And I will be the man who breaks Sam.

T
he referee jumps
back as quickly as he's physically able. I almost forget to dodge, because it looks so comical. Guys have run from Sam in the cage often enough. Sometimes referees do that too, when Sam doesn't agree with their decision. Another fun part of fighting him is that the referee is bound to be looking forward to announcing him the winner as soon as he's able.

Sam moves with supernatural speed. A guy his size shouldn't be able to jump start like a sports car. One second he's standing perfectly still, giving me that murderous grin, the next he's moving, coming straight at me like a freight train. I jump out of the way and the audience boos. Idiots. This is why I don't take the fans seriously. They hate reason. If I explained to them I don't like getting mashed against the cage and letting Sam beat me unconscious in the first thirty seconds, they wouldn't understand. All they see is that I am afraid.

I am not. Sam's a monster. A meaner, bigger, more dangerous monster than I'm used to, but he's only human like me. And all humans can fall.

His intention is clear. He wants to pin me underneath him and use those gigantic fists of his to bash my skull in. I can't let him trip me or I'm done. Worse, I'm dead.

I have to thank Carson properly at some point. His warning gave me an irreplaceable tool to use against Sam here in the octagon. It's the knowledge that I'm fighting for my life as well as Raina's and Susan's. And my child too, if Ricky ever discovers the truth.

There are many Marines doing MMA these days. They all say the same thing. The more we feel like we're in danger, the sharper we become. It's in our nature to function best under the most extreme pressure. And what is greater than knowing a fucking giant is about to paint the cage red with your blood?

Sam has not been idle. He is in constant movement and I like it. The more he rushes, the more he tires himself. That is the only break I can hope for. This is a show match; there are no rounds here. We fight until one of us wins. The referee can pull us apart—if he can—but we don't get breathers.

Sam charges me. His monstrous arms are flinging around, casting a net. If I get caught in that, I'm dead too. I dodge his catch, giving him a fast kick to the stomach. He barely grunts, turns with uncanny speed, and continues his pursuit.

I am quickly reduced to basic survival. Step by step, Sam backs me into a corner, pushing me to fall back or risk getting caught by him. Eventually I'm left with no choice. With my back literally against the cage, I push myself off it and ram him shoulder first. It really
does
feel like crashing into a brick wall.

But it worked, barely enough. Sam stumbles back. I can't let him catch his footing. I do something insane. I throw my hands around Sam and drive his momentum forward. We go down together and roll as soon as we land. I let go of him as soon as we began to free-fall, landing an elbow first on his ribs, but Sam shrugs it off like it's nothing.

It's true what they said, I think, as I'm pummeling his face with my fists while sitting on top of him. Sam doesn't feel pain like normal people do. He barely grunts to show he registered the hit. I curse whoever dug him out of a hole and put him in a ring. How do you make a guy who doesn't feel pain submit?

Sam catches me. The bastard lured me into a trap and I took it, because I had to. There was no other way. At least like this I got a few punches in. He catches my hand on its way to his bleeding face and twists me off him. The angle is excruciating. I cry out, feeling Sam pin me to the ground with his entire body weight. Three hundred pounds of raw murder sitting on top of me. I try to crawl out, but he has me.

My hand. I have to free my hand before he dislocates it or rips it off completely. I'm on my stomach with Sam crouching over me. The aim of the first kick is completely off, but I compensate the second time. I kick up with my leg, trying to hit his kneecap.

Even if Sam doesn't feel pain, it would make his leg spasm. I kick and kick and kick, gritting my teeth and struggling as Sam twists my hand behind my back, almost out of the socket.

Finally I hit. I feel Sam lurch above me and through the burning pain, I rip my hand free. I roll around and kick him again. My legs hit his. It gives me a small push away, but it's all I need. I scramble backward, getting up, breathing heavily as Sam charges me again.

His expression barely changes. The smirk is still there. I haven't injured him; I've only succeeded in tiring him a bit. Sam is still certain he'll win. Fuck that. I'm not going down, not to this brute.

I jump out of the way, letting Sam crash into the cage with such force it shakes the entire structure. People at the ringside wince away, but I know they love it. Well, everyone but Raina. I banish the idea of her as quickly as I'm able, because Sam doesn't give me a second to draw my breath.

He charges, raining down punches on me. I'm fine with boxing so long as I can still dodge. This is where I have an advantage. Sam is freakishly fast for someone his size, but I'm faster. I move quickly around him, dodging his blows and landing my own. If this were someone else, I'd risk a leg kick, but Sam would catch me and topple me again.

His own idea isn't bad. It occurs to me the only way I'd win is to do the same, but I can't let him get up. I look for an opening, but Sam hasn't stayed unbeatable only because of his bulk. The bastard reads his opponents better than people give him credit for. He's immediately on guard when I move toward him.

I pull a feint and it works too well. I back away, looking like I gave up on the plan. When Sam spreads his long hands again, I wait until he closes them, catching thin air. Then I get in a good punch right to his side where I know it made his ribs shake.

Good punch, bad outcome. Sam turns to me, fury in his eyes. Now I made the monster mad.

He roars, the first real sound I've heard from him all day. I can't dodge his next attack and he barges into me head-on, slamming me against the cage wall. I hear the crowd howl and cheer as I beat down upon his head as hard as I'm able. Sam returns the favor by pounding his huge fists into my ribs. It feels like repeatedly getting hit by a sledgehammer. I grunt and kick with my legs, trying to push us off the cage wall.

I change my angle, aiming all my punches against his ear. It's a sensitive spot and it fucks with a person's balance. I pummel it mercilessly until Sam gives me a chance to push us off the fence. We both fall and I roll away from him, trying to catch my breath. My insides feel like all my organs are mashed into one. My breath comes in broken, wheezing sobs, signaling a bad punch to the lungs.

My only comfort is that Sam doesn't charge at once. My blood burns, every inch of me aching, but the monster has taken damage too. He's trying to do something to his ear. I hope I ruptured his eardrum.

I think at least one of my ribs is broken, but I'm about to do something stupid again. Sam is standing just there. It is so odd to see him standing still that I have to shake my head clear to be sure I'm seeing it right.

He needs a breather. That only means one thing. Despite the pain I'm in, I can't give him that. I take a step, then a quicker one and throw myself into him again. Using my own body as a battering ram isn't pleasant in any way, but in the cage there is no other way. The opponent has to come down, especially when it's a guy like Sam.

We fall and this time I land on top. I pound down on his face, keeping the pressure on the side with the damaged ear. I punch and punch until blood flows, but Sam is not someone who stays down when they're beaten. With a guttural roar, he pulls me off him.

In the second where life flashes before my eyes, I think I was fucking fooled, and that Sam has been holding back this whole time and his injury was fake. But as he pulls me tight against him and on top of him as he presses down on my windpipe, I know he didn't. I feel his heart beating madly, his breath coming in furious gushes, his hands shaking.

He doesn't feel pain, but he can be beaten and I was doing it. Now I'm in a headlock that might be deadly soon. The referee steps closer and Sam growls at him. The man looks on, wide-eyed, uncertain, as Sam keeps squeezing the life out of me. I try to pull the same move I did with Carson, but Sam takes the pain and keeps up the pressure.

I choke madly, out of air. A crazy idea passes through my mind that this is it, this is the end. I failed and Sam is going to kill me. My thoughts immediately go to Raina and her beautiful doe eyes tearing up when she begged me not to die. All the work she did, sending me tips on Sam that she found, trying to help me any way that she could.

I can't do this to her, to either of them. I have to find the strength to break free from Sam's death snare. It's difficult, so fucking difficult. My limbs are starting to spasm, I feel my body surrendering to instincts and reflexes.

The crowd is beating hard against the cage, pressing down on the front rows, desperate to see Sam triumph. I grit my teeth, feeling blood seep through, running down my cheeks. In spite of them, I won't fucking die.

For Raina, I will live.

I claw at Sam's hands until they're bloody. I grasp the fingers of the hand that's holding me and one by one, second by agonizing second, I pry them open and push his huge bicep away enough to breathe in. Sam tightens his hold again, but I put everything I have into it and I'm able to slip free, coughing.

Sam's on his feet behind me already. He's coming, but he's slowing. I can barely lift my limbs, but once again I refuse to let up. I attack, practically jumping to hold myself up against him and punch his head again and again and again. I see his face going limp, see his eyes flicker shut, I know what this means...

Which is why Sam's fist catches me unexpected. It goes straight to my stomach, sending me stumbling back, falling. I only have a second to jump to my feet again on shaky legs that refuse to listen, and we're back where we were. Sam's swinging back and forward, but the huge bastard is
still
standing. He's lured me into traps so many times today, but I risk it.

All my punches do nothing, but a sharp leg kick to his ribs is different. Now it's me pushing him back and Sam's about to collapse. The crowd is silent, dead silent, but I don't give a shit about them. My knuckles are bleeding. I've worn them thin beating Sam. I have to look as awful as I feel. Cracked ribs, blood still trickling from my mouth, my legs harder to move with every second as muscles refuse to work.

I meet Sam's eyes. I don't think the lights are on anymore. He's out, but still standing. I stop, taking a deep breath, but even that simple thing seems like a chore. I gear up for one more punch, pulling my hand back. I put everything into it and Sam goes down.

The referee rushes to his side now that he's unconscious. I'm only barely awake myself. He takes one look at him and rises to declare me winner.

Then, at last, the audience explodes in applause.

I don't care about any of them. All I can think of is that it's done. Raina and I are free.

It's judgment day, Ricky.