Knock Out (Worth the Fight) (23 page)

His hand smacked her across the ass, forcing her forward into the arena. But not before she forcefully shoved an elbow back into his stomach. “Humph,” Jerry grunted. She didn’t wait around for the fallout.

The crowd spotted her a quarter of the way down the ramp. A familiar cheer greeted her. “Luscious, Luscious.” This wasn’t so bad. Predictable. Familiar. A day in the life of a popular Octagon Girl.

“We love you, Luscious!”

“It’s Pete’s birthday. Give us a smile.” She plastered a grin on her face and waved at the birthday boy.

“Is Boom-Yay ready to take on the Mad German?”

I
wish I knew
,
buddy.
I
wish I knew he was going to be okay.
She gave a thumbs up.

A crowd was gathered at the end of the ramp, without leaving much room for Logan to pass. As she approached, she immediately recognized the striking, dark red-haired woman overdressed in a deep navy business suit—
of all things
—blocking her way. Her arm hooked around Logan’s own and tugged her close. “Logan, your manager said you’d give me a few minutes for an interview. Ready? Lights, camera, action.”

Logan blinked at the cameras’ blinding white lights, stunned and horrified to find a mic in her face.

“This is Sophie Morelle reporting live from the Mellon Arena. I’m here at day three of Mixed Martial Arts Monster Mayhem bringing you a live, uncensored, special report of the final fights for a chance to compete in the Tetnus championships in Las Vegas. I’m here with Luscious Logan Rettino. So Logan, you were an accomplished ballerina, had a huge fan base as a contestant on
America Gets Its Groove On
. How hard was it for you to make the switch from classical ballet to
this?
”

Logan’s mouth opened and closed like a beached fish fighting for its life. Nothing squeezed out but a long exhalation.
Great
,
just great.
She was about to make a fool of herself on national television for the second time this year.

Logan kept her fingers laced together across her backside, just as she’d done since entering the arena. Careful to hide the source of further humiliation from sight. How long would it be before they caught on?

Sophie didn’t miss a beat and addressed the crowd. “What do you think, guys? Hasn’t Logan rocked it as an Octagon Girl?” The camera swung away and zoomed in on a few hard-core fans. Logan flinched as the other woman’s fingers squeezed her arm. She looked up and caught her conspiratorial wink—or so it seemed. The popular television host had saved her the embarrassment of answering. Yet, with Sophie on her side, who needed enemies. After all, the woman was notorious for her abrupt surprises.

“Gentlemen, before we let Luscious strut her stuff up there in the cage, I want her honest reaction to what’s been plaguing viewers the most since her unfortunate departure from
America Gets Its Groove On
.”

Logan wished she could curl up into a tiny insignificant ball of nothingness and roll the hell out of there. Even in this more conservative outfit, there was no hiding them—her slightly above-average breasts were about to be re-measured, reassessed, and reevaluated once again. What was wrong with America when breast size captured more media attention than a Japanese tsunami and a Chilean earthquake combined?

Man how she wanted to fold her arms across her breasts, but didn’t dare move them from behind her. Because what was printed on her ass was beyond embarrassing.

Sophie waved her mic at a group of people and they shifted off to the sides, clearing space for her near the stairway. The reporter had considerately let her off the hook once again, or so it seemed.

Logan relaxed and stepped toward the opening in the crowd.
That wasn’t so bad.
This woman gets such an undeserving bad rap.

“Reunited for the first time since Logan’s abrupt departure from
America Gets Its Groove On
...” Logan didn’t hear the rest. At the unexpected sight of
his
smirking face, that helpless, falling feeling returned, like the ground had shifted out beneath her and the person standing in front of her found it more delightful if he
didn’t
catch her.

Logan braced herself for the second time that day. There was nothing else she could do.

Chapter Nineteen

CLINCH: Where two fighters face off, before one grabs the other and pulls him/her in tightly

“If this is your doing, you’re gonna eat some teeth.”

Jerry visibly winced at Keane’s threat before slinking off down the hallway. Clearly, the asshole hadn’t learned his lesson from the beating he’d earned earlier. Keane turned back from his place at the top of the ramp, scowling at the Jumbotron and the so-called “surprise reunion” playing out on it. More like “vicious ambush.”

The reporter seemed pleased with herself for surprising Logan like that. Her ex had a twisted grin on his face, clearly pleased with his stunt. Logan’s face filled the screen, her glossy, widened eyes and half-parted lips making her look like someone who’d lost her best friend. An emotional punch Keane was all too familiar with.

“Jerry set her up. I heard him tell that reporter she could have an interview,” Sal commented from his spot next to Keane. “I might be past my prime but I’ve got a few more jabs in me with Jerry’s name on them. Jeez, Logan looks like she’s gonna...hang on, what’s her ex saying?”

“...and I’d like to personally invite you to watch me perform with Anya on the finale of
America Gets Its Groove On
.” Pierre reached out and the cameras zoomed in on the envelope he was offering to Logan.

Sal swiftly headed back into the corridor with a parting, “I’ll crank up your entrance music.”

Keane snarled, his words undecipherable. If this crowd wanted a show, he’d give it to them, and he wasn’t about to wait for some freakin’ music. Stepping forward, he started down the ramp.

“Yo, Keane! Wait up, man. I had a hell of a time getting past security and had to pull out an old photo of you, me and Jimmy as proof we’re buddies. I can’t believe I almost missed this. Good thing your girl called me.”

Stevie jogged up next to him.

Luscious hadn’t left enough alone.

“Dude, you sure you’re up for this? Fighting might not be the healthiest thing for you right now. Not until you work out some...issues.”

“Zip it, man.” Keane shouted and lengthened his stride. He’d left strict orders for no visitor’s passes. Period. Just in case. Who the fuck had let him in?

Stevie shadowed him as he stalked down the ramp toward the group gathered cage side. “And this isn’t a fight you want to take on. This German guy’s the real deal. I know you’re tough, but you’ve been out of action for a while. Even on your best day—and God knows you’ve had many of those—this guy would have given you a run for your money.”

Keane felt his friend’s hand on his arm and shrugged it off. All of his attention was zeroed in on Logan’s beautiful-yet-stunned face spread out across every Jumbotron in the place. Her ex was in for a surprise—after Keane kicked his ass, he’d move on to kicking the German’s, then Jerry’s. Stevie would be next in line if he kept harping on things best left alone.

Stevie and Logan were two persistent thorns in his side, unsatisfied until he bled. Avoiding them both seemed paramount to his survival; hell, they didn’t realize how close he was to losin’ it with Jimmy’s death eating away at him like ants on a slice of pie. Beating the shit out of this German was just the cure he needed. And should have been his absolute focus right now, if he hadn’t caught the close up of Logan’s pained expression.

“I’m starting to think you’ve got a death wish or something. Come on, Keane, listen to what I’m saying. This fight isn’t worth it. You’re hurting yourself, man.”

On the Jumbotron, Twinkletoes took a step forward and Logan shifted backward. Keane’s fists clenched even tighter.

The feedback from a microphone trilled loudly, then music filled the arena—Aerosmith’s “Dream On.” The crowd jumped to their feet. All eyes swung his way. Their mouths moved. Keane thought they chanted, “Boom-Yay” but all he could hear was Steven Tyler singing about paying your dues in life. Just like fuckin’ Pierre was about to pay his dues.

Keane stalked toward the group. He caught the shift in images on a huge screen, and now his tight expression replaced Logan’s.
Good.
Let ’em see what’s headed their way.

Stevie deserved some credit, for his buddy stuck to him like glue in spite of his menacing expression and the overwhelming attention it garnered. Thankfully, Keane couldn’t hear a word of what his friend was yakking nonstop about.

Striding toward the cluster-fuck surrounding Logan, he muscled his way inside. Three sets of eyes widened in surprise. Two sets of eyes immediately filled with fear, and with good reason. Keane had been waiting for this asshole to show up so he could teach him a lesson.

A third set of surprised eyes, as clear and as lovely as grass in an otherwise bleak desert, met his own.

“Keane,” her lips mouthed his name. His eyes raked over every inch of her, from the top of her forehead to the tip of her Nike-clad toes. Her arms were folded behind her, thrusting her lovely breasts outward and upward. A desert storm had nothing on the emotions blazing through him. Look but don’t touch. Not again. Never again, or he’d be unable to stop. Running his hands over her body, that’s not what this was about. No, sex was easier.

This was deeper, this was him struggling to hold the fuckin’ floodgates of emotion at bay.
You can’t have her.
You’re not the man for her
,
someone who’ll protect her.
Keep her safe.

His gaze was drawn to the swell of exposed skin at the top of her breasts, then up to her face, to eyes brimming with hope. And love.

Something inside him snapped.

And he lost his mind, completely.

* * *

Logan wasn’t sure what surprised her the most, being waylaid by Sophie Morelle, provoked by a smug-faced Pierre, or Keane’s abrupt appearance.

But what she did know was this: Keane never looked so fierce, with his beautiful tight lips and piercing blue eyes, possessive and conflicted. Pierre never looked so nervous, as if he’d been cornered in a pen by a wild animal. She knew with certainty that what goes around, comes around, and things had finally swung full force in Pierre’s direction. Keane was going to kick his lame ballerina ass if she didn’t stop him.

Fear of consequences made her jump between the two men. Keane would suffer more for attacking a spectator than Pierre would from the well-deserved beating. As much as she’d love to see her ex laid out on the floor—just like he’d left her all those months ago—she couldn’t let Keane be hauled off to jail on her account.

Keane’s hands shifted to her waist in a familiar move.
Oh
,
no
,
Boom-Yay.
You’re not moving me out of the way so easily.
Ignoring everyone but him, she stepped in closer so their bodies touched. Keane tried to sidestep her, but she was ready and moved along with him.

“Logan...” he warned, his mouth close to her ear as he scooped her up. Mercifully, her sequined bottom was hidden by his embrace.

“Don’t do it. I know you promised but he’s not worth it. He’s not worth your getting into trouble.” Despite her plea, he spun her around and moved her out of his way. Her mind worked frantically for a solution, some way to prevent this inevitable debacle. She thought about wrapping her arms around his neck and holding tight. Hell, it had worked once before. But the tightness of Keane’s jaw reflected his determination. Logan would have to resort to more drastic measures. Surely, God would forgive her for the white lie she was about to tell.

“Ah, Keane. I’ve a slight problem here,” she began, yelling loudly in his ear. His scowl told her he was listening.
Good.
Better to play it up like it was a final performance at Lincoln Center. “The knot on my top is loose.”

Keane kept moving, a runaway train of a man unwilling to stop.

Then she did wrap her arms around his neck, pulled him tight, and leaned in closer. “Do
not
put me down. Wardrobe malfunction, here. I’m about to lose my halter top.”

His gaze narrowed on her face, assessing her words.

She opened her eyes, in what she hoped was an innocent look, and added for good measure, “If I reach back to retie it,
everyone
will see.”

“Damn.”

Logan smiled up at him. He cared enough about her to barge into this crowd and kick Pierre’s butt. He cared enough to prevent her from hosting her own Octagon Girl peep show. He
cared.

“Don’t think this is over, Twinkletoes.” Keane turned and with the side of his arm, gave Pierre a strong shove, sending her dumbfounded ex flying backward. Tugging her in tighter, he headed up the ramp.

The crowd loved it. Not one to miss an opportunity, Sophie Morelle’s face filled the Jumbotron, as she added her take on what had just transpired. “Gentlemen, listen up.
That
is how you treat a lady. I’ll say, it’s the most romantic thing I’ve seen. He literally swooped in here and swept her off her feet. Nudged...well, maybe it was a bit more than a nudge...his rival for Logan’s attention out of his way. To hell with all this fighting. Those two lovebirds are the real deal.”

The real deal. More like a raw deal, once Keane realized her little white lie. Or maybe not. As soon as Keane cleared the entranceway, Logan unwound an arm from behind his neck and pretended to stretch.

Arching an elbow in the air, her fingers found the knotted string holding her top in place behind her neck. Deftly, she untwisted the bit of material and loosened it. No one was the wiser.

“Stop squirming,” he breathed into her ear.

“Um, my hair’s stuck. There we go.”

And there it went, the unraveled string falling freely across her back. Her lips twitched upward.

Steven Tyler’s crooning ended, replaced by the sound of approaching footsteps echoing on the cement floor. A Boy-Who-Cried-Wolf-like moment began playing out, as her top jiggled free and slipped from the sides of her breasts. Only her nipples, pressed tightly against Keane’s chest, remained covered.
Pimp my plié
, she’d asked for this. To make matters worse, instead of a wolf drawing closer, it was a massive, six-foot-five German. Hastily, she wrapped her free arm back around Keane’s neck.

The German and his entourage stopped. “Isn’t zis sveet.”

Keane shot out, “Yea, you’ll see sweet in five.” He brushed past the puzzled giant and his entourage, who were rapidly translating Keane-speak into German, and strode down the hallway.

His foot connected with the locker room door and it crashed open with a large boom.

“Don’t come any closer Jerry, or I swear my daddy will pull financing for Tetnus quicker than an angry bobcat,” Chloe’s startled voice cried out from behind the lockers.

Keane stopped short and abruptly set Logan down.

Logan called out to her friend in warning. “It’s me, Chloe, and I’m not alone. Give me a sec, okay?” In one quick rush, Logan’s tank top dropped to the floor.

“Jesus,” the beautiful man standing before her muttered. Logan racked her brain for a way to make him stay. His gaze raked over her and a lusty look she was all too familiar with briefly replaced the fierceness within his eyes. But with Chloe just around the lockers, seduction was out of the question.

Yet, she didn’t cover herself. Let him look his fill and remind him of what he was missing. Postpone the fight a little longer. Buy her time to try to persuade him once more.
Make him love me.

Her breath caught in her chest at the last ridiculous thought. There was no making Keane do anything. Besides, she wasn’t about to force someone into loving her—no matter how her heart was breaking.

Pushing aside her own rampant emotions, she forced out, “He’s a beast. I’m worried about you being prepared to fight him.”
Mentally
,
not physically
, she wanted to add but refrained. Bringing up PTSD again was a bad idea right now.

He stepped closer, tension rolling off his muscles. Reaching out, his fingers swept across her stomach. Warm and gentle. She leaned closer, wanting more.

“No faith, you and Stevie.”

Logan had spotted the shocked expression on Stevie’s face as Keane hauled her out of the arena. Help had arrived, but he was nowhere to be found at present.

With a whisper of a touch, his fingers ran back across her stomach. The air seemed thick with unspoken lust. A distraction she couldn’t afford to give in to, not with Chloe close by. Not without having her say before he battled it out with the German.

“You can back out of this. I won’t hold you to our agreement.” Her voice raised as she spoke, distracted by his touch. “No question that Jerry’s already canned my ass, so you won’t be doing me any more favors.”

His fingers had ever nerve cell humming. Her body remembered the feel of him so well, his big hands on her, the way he filled her up and made her cry out her release.

“Wanna bet?”

“No he won’t, Logan. I’ll talk to Daddy on your behalf,” the sly, curious and evidently wealthy eavesdropper declared from behind the lockers.

Crinkle my camisole
,
Chloe.
Logan couldn’t blame her. Given the situation, she’d have done the same thing if their roles were reversed. But the damage was done. Keane snatched his hand back and straightened to his full, unbendable height.

“Fix your top,” he said over his shoulder as he stalked out of the room.

* * *

The German and his crew were already in their lion’s den when Keane mounted the stairs and headed into the cage. Sal wildly gestured to him from his own corner, and he met up with the old timer in six long strides.

“Boyo, that was some show you and Luscious put on. But we’ve got bigger fish to fry here, lover boy.”

Keane scowled down until Sal shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Everyone doubted Keane’s ability to win against the Mad German, everyone except himself. His opponent was aggressive, with a skull as thick as granite. A worthy opponent. This was the kind of bout where he could let loose, maybe even enjoy himself, without worrying about killing the guy. He’d finally be able to unleash the mounting anger raging just below the surface.