Got A Hold On You (Ringside Romance) (10 page)

“Get in the ring and hang your head over the side.”

The kid did as ordered. Jack turned to Tiger Lady. “If
you catch my opponent in this position, you nail him in the neck, got it?”

“Nail him?”

“Here.” He reached for her gloved fist, and this time
she didn’t pull away. “An open fist.” He loosely curled her fingers. “Not to be
confused with a closed fist.” He curled her fingers tight into her palm. “We
use open fists and barely make contact. That way nobody gets hurt, most of the
time anyway.”

She nodded.

“Like this.” He nailed Marco, and the kid jerked in
mock pain.

“You said an open fist doesn’t hurt.”

“Marco does a good sell, don’t you, Marco?”

The kid winked, and she smiled back. Jack had a sudden
urge to step between them.

“Okay, you try,” Jack encouraged.

She punched Marco and he jerked on cue.

“Ah!” she cried, stumbling back and falling into
Teddy’s lap. The Basher let loose a hearty laugh.

“You can’t be afraid to hurt the opponent. It’s gotta
look real,” Jack said, reaching for her.

She cocked her head in question and he smiled to
himself. He could already smell the mountain air, picturing himself sitting by
the fire in his dream cabin on a cold winter’s night.

As he pulled her off Teddy’s lap, a loud bang echoed
across the gym. He glanced up at Sullivan’s office. The promoter’s face was
plastered to the glass, his palms flattened, his eyes bugging out of his head.

“What’s the matter with Crazy Joey?” Teddy asked.

Sullivan disappeared from view.

“Who knows? Probably got in a fight with that neurotic
niece of his,” Jack said.

“Neurotic?” Tiger Lady said.

“Uptight, rigid, anal retentive. Take your pick.”

“Frankie seemed okay to me.”

“She’s anything but okay.”

The gym door flew open. Sullivan navigated through the
exercise equipment like he was running an obstacle course. He stopped short of
Jack, completely out of breath.

“They eloped. Got drunk in Vegas…tried to take over
Wayne Newton’s show…sleeping it off in jail. They can’t get to Milwaukee. The
show starts in four hours!”

 
“Slow
down, what are you talking about?” Jack said.

“Eve and Neurosis! Come on, I have a limo waiting.
You’ll have to fill in. Both of you.” He grabbed Tatianna’s arm.

“But I can’t—”

“I have no one else!” Sully cried, pulling her toward
the exit.

“Sullivan, I’m not supposed to get back in the ring
for ten days,” Jack said.

“No fighting, no fighting. Come, come!”

Sully was desperate. Jack smelled victory. A major
screw-up tonight would prove the error of Sully’s plans. They’d drop the
Tiger-Cowboy script and chase some other crazy storyline.

“Billings has the costumes,” Sully said, leading
Tatianna by the arm. “Maxine will ride with you. Two hours, only two hours
away.”

Billings shoved a sweatshirt at Jack as they followed
Sully and Tiger Lady to the waiting limousine.

“Your gear’s already in the limo,” Billings said.

“Gee, thanks, Bill,” Jack said.

Tatianna climbed inside, and Jack heard her greet
Maxine. He hesitated before climbing in.

“But Sully, Tiger Lady has no experience,” he said,
laying the groundwork. They’d never know what hit them.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control,”
Sully said. “You just get there. We’ll be right behind you.”

Jack smiled. “Anything for you, boss.”

The promoter’s jaw dropped.

Jack climbed into the limo and Sully ducked his head
inside. “Maybe I should ride with you.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jack said.

Sully narrowed his eyes at Jack and glanced at
Tatianna. “Be careful.”

Jack put his arm around Tiger Lady and pulled her
close. “Don’t worry, Sullivan. I’ll take real good care of her.”

She was going to die, right here, in the middle of
fifteen thousand screaming fans on prime-time television. Frankie was going to
drop more than a hundred feet from the Milwaukee City Arena catwalk to the
middle of the ring.

Splat.

At least it would boost ratings.

The boom of fireworks shot panic through her veins as
she gripped the metal rail with trembling, gloved fingers.

“You’ll go down slow and easy, like in Raleigh,” the
stunt director explained.

“You launched me into a pool of green gelatin in
Raleigh,” Jack growled.

“Yeah, good thing we made it kinda stiff.” He cleared
his throat. “Anyway, I checked the harness. You’re all set. You’ve got three
safety hooks.”

“What about hers?”

“Her what?”

“Her harness, stupid.”

“I only got one. She’s going down with you.”

“What the hell, man! She needs her own gear.”

“We were lucky to get your equipment on such short
notice. Had to pull some major strings.”

He gripped the roadie by his tattered Grateful Dead
T-shirt. “Pull some more strings and get her some gear.”

“Uh, I’d like to, dude, I really would. But you’re
scheduled to drop in fifteen.”

He released the kid with such force he landed a couple
of feet away. “Do you have any idea whether the harness will even hold both of
us?”

“It should.” The roadie tentatively reached out and
secured the hooks to Jack’s harness. “It held the Basher at Melee in the Park and
he weighs over four hundred pounds. You weigh in at 250, and this one”—he
eyed Frankie—“she can’t be more than a hundred forty.”

“One hundred and twenty six, thank you very much.”
Good God, she was arguing about her weight.

“You’re all set. The lights will go off in about ten
minutes. Then Prince will do his introduction.” The roadie put his hand on the
metal gate. “Pop the button like this.” The door swung open.

Her stomach plummeted.

“And off you go. You’ll float down like a feather, no
problem.”

“And what’s to cushion our fall if there is a
problem?” Jack asked.

The kid shrugged. “My job’s done once you take flight.
I’m sure they’ve got cushioning under the ring or something.” With a nod, he
shoved a screwdriver into his tool belt and backed away.

“We’re going to die,” she whispered.

“Stop it.” Jack scanned the crowd below.

“Why?” She studied his profile.

“Because it will drive you crazy. These guys are
professionals. They know what they’re doing.”

“No, I mean why do you do this?”

He glanced at her, incredible sadness tinting his
green eyes.

“Oh, God, you know it too, don’t you?” she said.

He pulled her against his chest. “Sully won’t let
anything happen to us. We’re too profitable. We’re the flavor of the week,
kid.”

“Then why did you look at me like that?” she muttered
into his jacket, comforted by the smell of leather.

“Like what?”

“You looked so... sad.” She glanced up at him.

“You’re imagining things,” he said, avoiding eye
contact. She knew at that moment that he was as nervous as she was about performing
the stunt.

“Didn’t you know I jumped out of airplanes for a
living before I became a wrestler?” he joked.

She smiled at his attempt to distract her, but the
moment wore off and she started to shake again. Everywhere.

“Shhh.” With a solid arm around her shoulders he held
her close.

She clung to the supple leather, thinking maybe if she
held on tight enough she could will away her embarrassing reaction. “I don’t
usually shake like this.”

“Relax, sweetheart. I had to clock forty hours of
stunt training before they’d let me do this trick. Still can’t believe they’ve
turned me into a damned stunt man,” he muttered.

“How many times have you done it with a partner?”

He shot her a wry smile. In other words, none.

A new wave of tremors wracked her body. Her teeth
began to chatter.

“Think about something else,” he said. “It’ll take
your mind off the jitters.”

Her mind went completely blank.

“April 15, 1994,” he said.

“Wha-what’s that?”

“National championships. My first time away from home.
I was seventeen, went with the coach to Denver. There was a whole other world
outside of Carver, Missouri. I’ll never forget seeing the Rocky Mountains for
the first time.”

Studying his expression, the faraway look in his eyes,
she knew he was remembering a better time.

He blinked and cleared his throat. “Anyway…that’s what
I think about when I’m trying to stay sane.

They clung to each other in silence for a good minute
and her trembling slowed to a steady pulse.

“Your turn,” he said.

“My life’s pretty boring, actually.”

“You call this boring?”

A whimper-laugh escaped her lips. “Stop teasing me.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” He shot her a full-dimpled
smile, and she warmed inside.

“All right, then, if this is our last performance, we
should bare all,” he said, lightheartedly. “I’ll tell you how I stole Samantha
Smith’s milk money in the third grade to buy a Hulk Hogan comic book, and you
tell me what Sully’s got on you to make you dress like a feline and do suicide
jumps for a living.”

“True confessions, is that it?”

“Works for me. Either that or make one up.”

Looking into his eyes, she wanted to tell him the
truth, that the woman he held in his arms was really his mortal enemy, the
Franken Niece. She glanced at the ring below and decided the drop was too far
to chance it.

“If I knew you better I’d guess you’ve got something
big brewing behind those baby blues,” he said. “Then again, I don’t know you at
all, do I?”

“I…you…I’m sorry,” she said.

“What are you sorry about?”

Lying. Manipulating. Being an all-around crumb.

“The other night,” she said, recovering. “Making you
lose the championship belt.”

“It’s okay. Part of the fun is getting it back.”

“But you were so angry. Frankie told me the things you
said.”

He looked away. “The first thing you should learn is
never to trust anyone in that family. They’re like piranha. They’ll eat you
alive.”

She swallowed the ball in her throat. Now was
definitely not the time to confess her true identity.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said, trying to
redirect the conversation.

“Which one?”

“About why you do this.”

“Why do you do this?”

“Stop avoiding the question.”

He glanced across the auditorium and smiled, but it
didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “Wrestling has been my life for the past
twenty years. I guess you could say amateur wrestling saved my life. But
professional wrestling...it’s changed. I don’t recognize it anymore.” He ran
his hand back and forth across her shoulders in a comforting motion. “Anyway,
it’s time to get out, time for a new life.”

“What kind of life?”

“Whatever I want. The world’s wide open once I get out
of this circus. I’m going to do things and try things I’ve never been able to
because of my tour schedule. And I won’t have to answer to anybody, especially
not Sully.”

That familiar knot tightened in her stomach. Another
irresponsible male like Dad.

The arena suddenly went black and she involuntarily
dug her fingernails into his leather jacket.

“Calm down, sweetheart. It will be over soon.”

Sure it would. She could picture the headlines:
FINANCIAL ADVISOR LEADS DOUBLE LIFE AS CAT WOMAN: PLUNGES TO DEATH IN THE ARMS
OF WRESTLING COWBOY.

Good God, what will Bradley think? And what about her
mother?

“That’s our cue,” he said, standing. She clutched his
jacket with white-knuckled fingers.

 
“You’re
fine. Just hang on. Wrap your legs around my waist.”

“But—”

“Come on, trust me.”

He cupped her behind with firm hands and pulled her
against his chest. Following his lead, she locked her spiked heels around his
waist and gripped his shoulders.

The spotlight blinded her, giving her a sneak preview
of the journey to heaven. At least that’s where she hoped she’d end up.

“Ready?” he said.

“N-N-No,” Frankie mumbled between uncontrollable sobs.
Good thing she wore little eye makeup this time. She hoped her contact lenses
didn’t fall out. Not that anyone would notice her eye color at the wake.

“Look at me,” he said.

She glanced into his powerful green eyes.

And he kissed her. Just like that. Without warning or
permission or any of the traditional preludes to such an intimate act. It was
an incredible kiss, filled with the sultry male taste of Black Jack Hudson. His
soft lips coaxed a response, and she automatically opened to him.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she heard
blaring music and screaming fans, but they were far away, as if on another
planet.

She deepened the kiss, knocking off his hat to run her
hands through his long, dark hair. She couldn’t get enough of him as she
floated on passion’s wings, lightheaded with a kind of drugged desire she’d
only read about in books.

Their tongues mated and danced, sending shock waves of
awareness all the way down to her toes. She felt like she could fly, but she
didn’t dare let go. No, she wanted to hold on to this feeling to the bitter
end.

What a way to go.

Her head spun and she shifted her hips to hug Jack’s
waist even tighter. She was acting wanton and crazed. And it felt good. Damned
good.

Jack’s hand pressed against the small of her back and
slipped down to cradle her behind. He smelled amazing, a mixture of leather and
spice tantalized her senses, and he tasted even better, like a rare fruit,
sweet but tart.

He broke the kiss, and she moaned in protest.

“The shuttle has landed,” he said in a hoarse voice.