Full Contact (4 page)

“Sure.”

“Gimme your phone and we’ll trade numbers. My line of work is not very predictable. Shit always comes up.”

“What is your line of work?” I hand him my phone, and he does the number switch.

He hesitates for just a heartbeat and then shrugs. “Private investigator. But I got a bit on the side.”

“A bit on the side?”

“A bit on the side.”

“What does that mean? ‘A bit on the side’?”

Ray chuckles. “Means I’ll take on the odd job that might go outside the boundaries of professional ethics, so it doesn’t count as official PI work. Mostly catching bad guys. Lookin’ for one right now, but let it slide tonight so I could come here.”

“I thought it meant you were having an affair. Not that you’re the kind of person who would have an affair, or if you were, that you would tell me. I mean, it could be uncomfortable if you chose to share that information because I know Shayla, although—”

“Sia…”

Wound tight, I let my tension spill out in a nervous babble. “Not well enough that I would feel the need to call her up and tell her you’ve got a bit on the side, but you know, it could be awkward since I do go to all the Redemption parties—”

“Sia.”

“And if I was talking to her and saw—”

He cups his hand around my neck, leans down, and kisses me. Soft and sweet, his lips press against mine, stealing my breath from my lungs.

“Oh,” I whisper when he pulls away. “Is that how you shut babbling girls up?”

“Only the hot ones.”

Stunned, I can only stare. I was kissed by the Predator. He thinks I’m hot. Fangirl swoon.

“I don’t do that shit,” Ray says, all cool and calm as if he hasn’t just rocked my entire world. “Two women is two times the trouble. Got enough to do with work and training.” He hands me my phone, and my stomach clenches when I see his name in my address book.
Ray
. No last name. But I’m not complaining. Until last week, I would never have imagined Ray’s name would be associated with mine in any way. And cool. He’s not into relationships. Neither am I.

“I don’t know how you work your job, your bit on the side,
and
train
.” I regain my equilibrium and pretend his kiss didn’t just fry my brain. “Tag struggles with one, and he doesn’t really train anymore. He just teaches.”

“Passes the time.” He slides out of my seat and tucks his phone in his pocket.

“‘Passes the time’?” My voice rises in disbelief. “You’re an amazing fighter. I’ll bet you’d shoot right up through the amateurs if you got on the amateur circuit.”

Ray’s face tightens. “Underground fighting is more my style. A real test of skill and strength. Push yourself to the limit and let it go. Freedom. That’s where it’s at for me.”

“That’s how I feel about art,” I say. “I see pictures in things, and I have to set them free.”

Ray strokes a finger along my jaw, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “What about Fenrir?”

“Like I said, he wants to be free.”

Electric tension fills the space between us. Ray’s corded throat tightens when he swallows, and he drops his hand. “He’s not the only one.”

He leans down and for a moment I think—no, hope—no,
pray
he’s going to kiss me again. His breath is warm on my cheek. His lips brush over my ear. And then he whispers, “Tomorrow.”

You scream sexy

“Hey, Sia! Long time no see ya!” Rampage ruffles my hair when I walk in the front door to Redemption, a converted warehouse in Oakland’s Foster-Hoover District—also known as Ghost Town—and one of the city’s premier MMA training facilities.

I give Rampage a hug and wrap my arms around his belly, clad in a yellow happy face tank top. “Boy, I missed this place. Tag—”

Rampage cuts me off. “Ring names only in the gym.”

“Sorry. I mean, Fuzzy banned me from coming here after what happened to Amanda. If it weren’t for the parties and the guys who come into the studio, I would have totally lost touch with what’s going on.”

Rampage’s face falls, bringing his scars into stark relief, and he leans his six-foot-two-inch super heavyweight frame against the wall. “Yeah. That was a rough time. Amanda hurt. Buncha idiots suing us for ten million dollars. But she sorted us all out, and sorted herself. You going to the wedding? Should be one hell of a party.”

My stomach clenches. “Uh…I’m not sure.” Amanda is marrying Jake a.k.a. Renegade, one of Redemption’s top-ranked fighters and yet another of my fantasy men. Things got awkward when Tag tried to set us up by asking Renegade to look out for me at parties when he wasn’t around. We definitely had chemistry, but after one kiss, I backed off. Not just because I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle more than one kiss from such an über alpha male, but because it was so obvious he was still in love with Amanda and didn’t know it.

Rampage gives me a sympathetic smile and walks over to the intercom. He knows everything about everyone at Redemption, and although he seems the most unlikely source of gossip, information always seems to find its way to him. “I’ll let Fuzz know you’re here.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Actually, I think I’ll try and fly under his radar. Ray…er…the Predator asked me to meet him here to show him some designs, and I’m pretty sure Fuzzy won’t approve.”

Rampage laughs. “He’s not gonna say no to the Predator. First night the Predator took Fuzzy’s Get Fit or Die class, he had Fuzz in a submission on the floor in the first five minutes. Didn’t like being told what to do. Earned Fuzz’s respect, which isn’t an easy thing.”

“Is the Predator here yet?” Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I still can’t believe I had the nerve to come to Redemption. But how could I not after the verbal thrashing I got from my bestie?

Last night, after scaring away the ultra-conservative, dull-as-ditchwater fireman with my tats and piercings, I called Jess. After hearing about Ray showing up at Rabid Ink, she threatened to disown me as a friend if I didn’t get my ass to Redemption. She also mentioned horrendous tortures she would inflict on me if I chickened out, most involving hiding my stash of potato chips or telling my mom about my secret piercings. In Jess’s mind, any attention is good attention, even if he’s got a girlfriend attached.

“Free weights. You can go find him if you like.” Rampage raises a curious eyebrow, and I change my mind about looking for Ray right away. Maybe I should take a few minutes to chill and relax. Get my game on.

“I think I’ll grab something to eat first. If you see him, let him know I’m in the café.”

“Sure thing.”

Taking a deep breath, I head down the main corridor toward the café, keeping a sharp lookout for Tag. The gym has undergone significant renovations over the last few years and now resembles a hi-tech military training facility. I pass the first aid room, equipment store, and a couple of workout studios before I spot Doctor Death heading my way. I contemplate pushing aside the plastic sheeting covering the entrance to what appears to be a new addition to Redemption’s already vast space, but instead manage to duck into the little café unseen. A quick check of the menu yields disappointing results. Protein shakes of all varieties made-to-order and a cooler full of healthy treats.

After I buy a wrap and the least offensive-sounding protein shake, Choco Banana Whey Blast, I squeeze into the table at the back of the café beside a tall potted palm. Unless someone is looking for me, I should be well hidden.

“Sia. I almost missed you hiding behind that tree. Come out and say hello.”

Or
not.

Torment, the owner of Redemption, beckons to me from the counter. Without thinking, I leap to my feet. But then, Torment has that effect on people. He isn’t just an alpha male. He’s an über alpha. Crowds part when he walks down the street. Tables vacate when he enters a bar. He can make a man cower with the lift of his eyebrow. And in the ring…holy Hannah. It’s no wonder he’s being considered by the pros. The only person who has been able to tame him is his girlfriend, Makayla, the gym’s first aid attendant. They went through hell for each other and now nothing could tear them apart.

“You here to see Fuzz?”

Holding up my travel portfolio, I give him a terrified smile. “Actually, I’m here to give the Predator a few designs. He wanted some fresh ink. But if that’s a problem, I can meet him somewhere—”

“He’s certainly impressed with your work.” Torment snatches the portfolio from my hand and thumbs through the drawings. “All my boys are. The Predator dragged a few of them into my office this morning after I mentioned I was thinking of getting a new piece.”

I can’t imagine anyone daring to enter Torment’s office without an invitation. “Is he still alive?”

“Barely.”

“Thanks for not killing him.”

“Pleasure.” Torment drums his fingers on the counter, and sweat beads on the server’s brow. He wipes his hands on his apron and doubles his speed as he prepares Torment’s protein shake.

“Didn’t want to deprive you of a potential client,” Torment says.

“Thoughtful.” The idea of Ray hauling fighters into Torment’s office to show off their ink gives me a warm, melty feeling inside. Probably how Shayla feels when he kisses her softly, strokes her jaw with his finger, or brushes his lips over her cheek and says, “Tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure why he would do that.” I twist my ring around my finger and the little heart gleams under the light. “We’ve only met once…twice.”

“The Predator is his own beast. He keeps to himself. I don’t try to understand him. But I am impressed with your work. If you ever decide to leave Rabid Ink, come and talk to me. I have something in the works that might interest you.”

The server rushes out from behind the counter and gives Torment an apologetic smile when he hands him his shake. Torment nods and stalks away. I collapse into my chair.

Ray hasn’t shown up by the time I’ve finished my snack and I steel myself for a search of the main gym. But first, I check out the chalkboards outlining the weekly class schedule. Fuzzy is signed up to teach two classes this afternoon: Baby Boot Camp followed by Get Fit or Die. Sweet
.
He’ll be tied up for at least another hour and a half, and by the time he’s done, I’ll be long gone.

Pausing in the doorway, I take in the twenty-five-thousand-square-foot gym, complete with fight cages, practice rings, and a full range of cardio, weight, strength, and endurance training equipment. Grapple dummies line one wall and punching bags another. In the training area at the back, exhausted fighter wannabes drag themselves around Tag’s killer circuit while he scowls and peppers them with affectionate abuse. The air smells of stale sweat, lemon-scented disinfectant, and a hint of vinyl. Delightful.

Skirting around the equipment to keep out of Tag’s line of vision, I head over to the free weights and catch sight of Ray drumrolling a speed bag in the corner. Sweat glistens on his body as he pounds the bag in a steady rhythm, his biceps flexed, the smooth skin on his lats rippling over the hard muscle underneath.

For a moment, I allow myself to imagine I’m a normal girl caught up in a normal fantasy where he dumps Shayla and takes me home, and we have wild, hot, animal sex until neither of us can move. I’ve never had wild, hot, animal sex, but I imagine any sex with Ray would be amazing.

Ray glances up and catches me watching. Without missing a beat, he gives me a wink that makes my cheeks flame and my toes curl. Instinctively, I do what all prey do when spotted by a predator. I run.

Safe in the shadow of the huge elevated cage dominating the center of the warehouse, I sit on a bench and watch from a safe distance where my drooling cannot be easily noticed.

Ray moves from the speed bag to the bench press and Homicide Hank offers to spot him. Wiry, tall, and lanky, Homicide seems ill suited to the job and is indeed rendered redundant when Ray lifts and lowers the massive weight bar without even a tremble of his arms. I try to keep my hormones in check at the incredible display of male strength, but Mother Nature has her own ideas, and within minutes my skin is hot and sweaty, my nipples are tight, and I’m wet down below. I am almost disappointed when Ray and Homicide Hank shake hands and Ray joins me on the bench.

“So how was the date?”

Momentarily befuddled, dragged out of a fantasy where Ray does push-ups over my naked body, I just stare. “What date?”

“The date you had last night.”

My heart sinks. Ray is about the last person I want to talk dates with. “Well…it went as expected. One look at my ink, piercings, pink streak, and leather, and it was all over. It’s like he was expecting Taylor Swift and got Lady Gaga instead.”

His gaze travels over my Coldplay tank top and black leather pants. “A guy who can’t appreciate a sexy woman isn’t worth your time.”

“C’mon.” I give him a little nudge with my elbow. “This look doesn’t scream sexy.”

“You scream sexy.” He strokes a finger along the strap of my tank top and my body stills, need gripping me so hard I can barely breathe.

“I’m not—”

“You got a gym full of men watching you walk across the floor,” he says in a low growl. “Means you’re sexy.”

Oh God. Is he teasing me? Or worse, flirting? What about Shayla? Cheeks burning, I pull a folder from my portfolio. “Here are the designs I promised you.”

But Ray doesn’t take the folder. Instead, he gently strokes the little silver cross in my earlobe. “This what he didn’t like? Your piercings?”

“Who?”

“The moron from last night.”

Warm fuzzies spread through my body and I lower the folder. “Actually, I didn’t tell him all the places I’m pierced.”

Ray’s hand stills, and his eyes darken almost to black. “Not letting that one go. Where else are you pierced?”

Delighted at finally gaining the upper hand, I lean in and whisper, “Secret.”

His eyes bore into mine, drilling into my soul, as if he expects my secrets to reveal themselves if he digs far enough. But I’m an expert at keeping secrets. My fortress is impenetrable.

“Sia!” Tag’s shout echoes through the gym and I groan. Although I knew getting in and out undetected was a long shot, I had still hoped.

“He doesn’t like me coming here.” I mumble under my breath. “He thinks it’s too dangerous. I had hoped to avoid detection.”

“Got it.”

Pushing myself to my feet, I mentally prepare for the showdown. What I’m not prepared for is Ray, standing beside me, angling his body slightly to shield me from the oncoming Tag storm. Although calm and quiet on the outside, I can sense violence simmering beneath the surface. Is he protecting me? From Tag?

“What’s going on? I told you not to come here.” Tag’s naturally loud voice attracts some unwanted attention and nausea roils my gut.

“Calm down.” I hold up my art case, warding him away. “I don’t want to cause a scene. I just came to bring Ray some designs.”

He glares at Ray. “You couldn’t have gone to her tattoo parlor? You had to make her come out to fucking Ghost Town?”

“Hey! You’re outta line.” I move forward, but Ray steps in front of me, blocking my way. The gesture is so subtle, I’m not sure if it was intentional. “I wanted to come out here,” I say to Tag. “This is business. Plus, I miss hanging with the guys and watching you drill the new recruits and making them cry.”

My joke falls flat and Tag scowls, but not at me. He huffs and puffs, and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to blow Ray down.

“Not lookin’ for a fight, Fuzz.” Although his hands hang loosely by his sides, I’ve watched enough fights to know Ray is anything but relaxed. “I’ll watch out for her,” he continues, his voice low and even. “We got tats to talk about.”

Before Tag can even splutter a word, Ray places his hand on my lower back and guides me toward the door. At least I think he’s guiding me. My entire body is focused on his warm, firm hand pressed up against my back, sending waves of molten pleasure through my body.

“Sia.”

Looking back over my shoulder, I give Tag a wink and a wave, profoundly grateful he is forced to exercise restraint in the gym. No shouting and hollering and storming about today. Just silent fury pulsing toward me in waves.

“Sorry about Tag,” I say. “It was nice when I was younger to know he was watching out for me, but…”

“He’s afraid to let you go.”

Just like I’m afraid to let go of Tag. Emotion wells up in my chest and I stop in the hallway and hold out the folder. “You want to look at the designs?”

His fingers brush over mine as he takes the folder, electrifying my nerve endings. His hands are broad and strong, and for a moment I am captivated by his muscled forearms, the slight gleam of sweat on his tanned skin, the sprinkling of hair. How many nights have I watched him fight and wonder what it would be like to glide my finger along the ropes of those muscles, feel the hair tickle my palm?

He looks up and catches me staring, and although my heat rises, I can’t look away. His eyes hide a darkness, a stain on his soul.

“These are good.” He hands me the folder, breaking the spell. “But that first design you did? Fucking perfect.”

“It was just off the top of my head.” I take the folder from him and drop it in my case. “I didn’t really give it much thought.”

Ray cups my jaw with his hand and strokes his thumb over my cheek, sending a jolt of white lightning straight to my core. “Instinct. Trust it.”

Not my instincts. And especially not now when my body is responding to his touch while my mind is screaming no.