Raw (25 page)

“So why didn’t you cash your penny in before?” He smirks at me and lifts his brows as he smooths his thumbs down the bridge of my nose, one after the other. “You could’ve asked for anything. Didn’t I say you could?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t let it go. I had you with me.” I see it in his palm and try to snatch it back up, and he squeezes his palm shut.

“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head. “Earn it.”

“Come on. Be gentlemanly.”

“Earn it.”

I laugh and playfully slap his shoulder, and his eyes dance; I can tell he loves my teasing slaps and that it doesn’t hurt him one bit.

He falls sober the next moment.

“Sorry about Racer. You love the little guy,” he says then, setting the penny aside.

“Very much. He was mad at me after a while and didn’t want to be with me. I felt like shit. So rejected.”

He kisses me. “You lose some, you win some.”

I grab his head and kiss him. “I need to go.”

He glances at the clock. “Yeah, I need to train.” He flops to his back and exhales happily.

I do the same. “People in love mimic each other, did you know? I read that somewhere. One grabs their hair and the other unconsciously does that.”

“When you grab your hair, makes me want to grab your hair too, not grab mine.”

I laugh and cuddle a little. “You’re funny.”

“No.” He sounds grumpy now.

“You have a sense of humor.”

“I’m just happy right now.”

“Really?” I ask, raising my brows.

He raises his pointedly. “Really.”

“See! You just lifted your brows like me.”

He groans and shakes his head. “Don’t even, Reese. I’m not a couple-y kind of guy. I don’t do costumes and I definitely don’t do matching costumes and I don’t do anything other people do.”

“That’s fine. Just do me.”

He smacks my butt as I get out of bed and squeezes it and pulls me down and kisses me. “You’re out of control, girl. Someone needs to keep an eye on you twenty-four/seven. I volunteer.”

I kiss him again, then I slap his chest playfully. “I’m going now,” I warn.

He sits up too and strokes my hair, then lowers me to his knee and looks down at my nipples and plays with them. “I’m going for a run with Tate today. I’m going to tell him about us. I want this out in the open.”

Butterflies wake up vigorously in my stomach. “Okay.”

He looks up at me meaningfully. “I want to take you to dinner tomorrow, after the semifinals.”

“Ummm.” Shit. I twist my mouth to the side as I think about how to phrase it. “Maverick, I wanted to talk to you about that. You see . . . tomorrow Miles is in town, and my other friends. I’m supposed to meet up with them once Brooke gets back from the fight.”

His eyebrows shoot up, then he narrows his eyes. “You want me to hang back while you go frolicking with Miles?”

I slap his thigh playfully. “Yes, because he’s just a friend. He’s always been just a friend. I thought . . .” I shake my head. “Maverick, I didn’t know the real thing.”

He narrows his eyes even more.

But, I admit, the possessive look I see there thrills me a little.

No, a lot.

Maverick not only looks possessive, but he sounds possessive too. “You’ll go out with them after the fight, but you won’t come to watch my fight? Reese?” he says, frowning and cupping my breast again, as if to remind me who makes me moan.

I drop on the bed, tug the sheet up, and playfully hide my breasts from him. “You said you didn’t want me there because I’d fuck with your head.”

He tugs the sheet back down to look at me, then he rubs my breast tips with the pads of his thumbs. “I said that before. Before I wanted you so badly on my side.”

My eyes close.

“What? No slap?” he teases.

I slap his shoulder, then set my hand there, possessively too. I squeeze his hard arm, with meaning, though it hardly budges at all.

“I’ll meet my friends tomorrow. And I’ll find a way to make it to the championship match. To see you.” I get up then and wait for his answer.

He nods at that, slowly, his gaze a little threatening. “Just remember.” He cups my butt as he stands and gently bites the top of my ear. “This ass is mine.”

Maverick

I
’m ready.

I’m tapping my foot restlessly on the concrete floor of the Boston warehouse. It’s the second night of semifinals in Boston. Tate fought yesterday and won. Still undefeated, still ranked at first. I’m currently third.

I’ve been training like a beast and eating like a caveman, and I feel primitive now. Ready to take my place in the Underground tonight.

Oz says the place is packed. He’s told me a dozen times that I need to take out every single fighter out there. Some bigger, some faster, all of them more experienced, but not a single fucking one of them is as determined as I.

Most of the fighters out there do it for the money. Yeah. Boatloads of green are fine, but green is the least of my driving forces.

I watch Oz finish strapping on my gloves and think of the run I had with Tate yesterday. We didn’t say a word for seven miles. The conversation with him began and ended when we finished and guzzled down our electrolyte drinks. The conversation went like this:

Me: Reese and I are dating. And it’s serious.

Tate: Good. I’m serious about what I said too.

Me: Good.

Tate: You love her?

Me: Adore her.

Tate: Then there’s nothing more to say except don’t cheat, don’t hurt her, and don’t make her regret choosing you.

And I won’t. I fucking won’t. Even if tonight, I’m simmering in frustration over the fact that my girl will be all around town with
Miles.

I want her here. With me. Or anywhere safe. Anywhere but with
Miles.

“That fucker won’t have a thing for you.”

“Hmm?”

“Toro,” Oz assures me.

I know I’m glaring, but I’m too mad to do anything else. “I thought you meant Miles.”

“Oh, dammit, Maverick, you think
Miles
holds a candle to you?” Oz scowls protectively. “Nobody does!”

“Oz.” I laugh at last, then run my hand through my hair. “Never felt this way before. You know? I don’t like not knowing what I’m up against. What he’s like. What she saw in him.”

“Give me that damn hand, I’m not finished.” He takes my wrist and starts wrapping my hand in black tape. I watch him closely, beads of sweat across his brow. I feel for Oz. I know that every hour he spends without his flask is costing him his soul.

“You kind of grow on a guy, you know,” I say.

“Yeah?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Does your girlfriend hate my guts? I don’t want either of you to think I was a dick to her the other day. I was irked. For good reason. My champ stood up at the airport after going through all the effort of first class . . .”

“She had good reason and she doesn’t hate you. Reese offered to be your sponsor, Oz. She’s anti-Wendy, like you and me. She’s one of us.”

Oz exhales as if I just lifted the whole city off his shoulders.

I test out my hand before shoving my fingers into the black boxing glove he extends. “You haven’t drank today. Right?”

“Not for a few hours,” he admits, opening the other glove for me. “But I’m craving it, son. I’m going to need a fix soon.”

“If you’re even tempted, tell me and we’ll find something funner to do.”

“Yeah. Go break a few noses for me.” He signals to the door and steps back to make room for me.

I get to my feet and stretch my neck; the crowd is getting noisier.

The announcer calls out my opponent as I shove my arms into the black robe Oz holds up. I jerk the sash closed, then I loosen my shoulders, keep eyeing the door. My muscles are already heating. Adrenaline pumps in my veins. I’m sky-high on testosterone and I not only have tonight’s important match to thank for that, but
Miles
too.

“Toro! Toro! Toro!” the crowd outside cheers.

I hop in place, loosen my wrists, my arms. I’m impatient. I’m hardwired to fight the moment I put my gloves on. I’m ready.

Come on, motherfucker, call me up already. . . .

“And now, ladies and gentlemen. He’s reckless! He’s determined! He’s got eyes of steel that will cut you to the quick, and fists with unparalleled reach. Maverick. ‘The Avenger.’ Caaaaage!”

I head with Oz down the walkway, lights shining down on us as the crowd shuffles restlessly and even gasps. Oz takes my corner, and I climb the ring.

I’m fucking primed to fight. My eyes land on Toro as Oz pulls off my black robe, and suddenly I can hear the silence, as always, when my tattoo is revealed.

Nobody sees the phoenix really. All they see is the scorpion that marks me.

I purposely do not get rid of that scorpion.

I am who I am.

I come from where I come from.

That doesn’t mean I’m shit.

In the far back, I hear a few females scream, “GO MAVERICK!”

“Well, look at that! I like them!” Oz happily cries.

He squints into the lights and raises his hand to shield his eyes as he tries to locate my fans as I head to center and focus on the guy before me.

Joel “Toro” Waltzinger.

Bull in size, height, and he even breathes like one too. Sweat glistens all over his body, as if the guy already wore himself out climbing the ring. Hell, I hope he’s ready to get his guts smashed.

Ting.

We go toe-to-toe, tap gloves, and he tries a couple of jabs.

I block and duck, easy.

He throws his arms out again, and as I duck, I hit. I go for the body first,
poom, poom, poooom
.

He grunts.

I smile and prowl around him. “Not too bad for a rookie, huh?” I try baiting him.

He swings out again, I block and hold his arm up there with mine, opening his side. And I hit again, crushing his ribs.

He’s winded. And that’s when I drive my hook upward, straight to the head. First the left hook. Then the right hook. And then I shoot my arm out straight and bust his face, his nose crunching beneath my knuckles. He falls to the ground.

Next up is Hot Shot.

I keep my guard up, brace my legs apart, and hold my balance. Everything I learned from Tate.

We go toe-to-toe. I double punch, hit, stunning him.

I protect, then attack. Protect, attack. Stay away from the ropes, prowl back, then prowl forward until I’ve got him caged.

And then I pummel him. Gut. Ribs. Gut. Temple. Jaw.

He’s on the ground.

The adrenaline is rushing inside me. I’m bloodthirsty and I’m eager for it. I’m taking this ring tonight no matter who they put before me.

With Taz, we dance a lot. Hop, duck, leap around. He’s fast but I’m just as fast, and I’m stronger. I catch a few hits. They hardly graze. Mine don’t graze
him
. They land and crunch bone beneath my knuckles, knock him to his knees.

He tries to come up and his leg quivers, and he falls.

I take Libertine out within two minutes of taking the ring.

Spidermann avoids the ropes. He’s been studying me?

I play it different. I let him get in a few hits to the body, let him bring me to the ropes, and then I flip us around, cage him in, and fucking finish him.

Twister is last.

Oh, I’m going to have fun with him. Flirting with Reese? Busting his nose last time was not enough for me.

I prolong it this time. I raise my fist and crunch his nose under my knuckles—in case he doesn’t remember who fucking busted it before.

He yells, and when his hand flies instinctively to the source of the pain, I go straight for his liver.

He chokes on a breath and gets blood all over my chest as he tries to lean on me for balance.

I shove him back (I’m not his hugging post), then let him recover before readying to hit again.

“You motherfucker,” he hisses, charging.

I smash my hook into his mouth, then hold his head between my folded arm and hit him three times with my fist. Then I drop him splat on the ground.

There’s a wave of shocked gasps across the crowd. I look around the arena as it falls silent, clenching my jaw, narrowing my eyes, and then I raise my arms and let my fist punch the air, saying,
This is who I am!

“Absolutely ruthless! No mercy from Maverick Cage, NO FUCKING MERCY TONIGHT! Ladies and gentleman, we give you . . . Maverick ‘the Avenger’ Cage!”

I’m catching my breath as my arm is raised, and then I pull free and leap out of the ring to where Oz waits to lead me down the walkway, to the back room.

“You just got into the fucking final, Mav. YOU’RE IN THE FUCKING FINAL!”

“Yeah.” I pull my gloves free inside the back room and then grin up at him in wonder, disbelief, and a high you couldn’t believe.

“Come here, you little fucker.” He squeezes me and I squeeze back, both of us laughing, then I shove my hands out. “Help me take these off. I want to tell Reese.”

Oz works one hand free and I use my teeth to pull my tapes off the other as fast as I can. Suddenly I’m on fire to tell her. I can’t wait another second to tell her.

There’s only one thing I want right now. One thing that will make this real. Telling Reese she’ll be watching me fight at the final.

Reese

I
’m stepping out of the shower when Miles texts me the club address where they’re waiting for me. I answer his text:

I’ll meet you there.

And quickly change, let Brooke know I’m leaving and Racer is asleep, and I head off, assuring her I’ll be safe and home before Racer wakes.

The club is packed, bustling with dancing bodies and thrumming with music. Inside the club, I spot Miles, Avery, and Gabe. I head over. Avery is pressed to Gabe’s side. They’ve been on and off together for ages.

Miles is wearing his contacts, his hair slicked back, wearing a polo and tan slacks. Gabe is in jeans and a pastel polo. Avery is dressed to slay in a sequined top.

“Well, well, well!” Gabe says when I ease into the booth in the only space left, next to Miles. “Our worldly little lady is here.”