Pushing the Limits (18 page)

“Mom, I'm staying. I love being closer to all of you,” she said with a forced smile.

Her mother was full of concern as she squeezed her hand. “We all make mistakes, sweetheart. If Dane was able to learn to forgive himself and move past things, you should be able to as well. And who knows, maybe in time he'll come around.”

She shifted in the seat, grateful for her dark sunglasses as tears brimmed in her eyes. The note of hopefulness in her mother's voice was something Colby wished she could feel, but despite how badly she wanted Dane in her life, she refused to believe there was a chance for them.

* * *

Everything was exactly the same as always. The walk to the cage, the sound of the fans cheering, his walk-out music echoing in his chest. He felt confident, sure, ready to fight.

He climbed into the cage, just like every other time.

And then the stadium went dark, the music stopped, and he could no longer see his training camp in his corner. He was alone in the cage . . . and then the cage door opened.

He knew what was coming next because he'd had this nightmare every night for almost a year. But this time it wasn't Marco Consuelos or his tearful son, or his angry wife standing across from him.

It was Colby.

His blood ran cold and his legs were frozen in place. His arms lay heavy at his sides, and the lights were so bright they blinded him as he squinted to see across the cage.

Colby was grinning, but any amusement or pleasure fell short of her eyes. It was a mocking grin. The same one he'd seen from his mother so many times before. The one that said he was a nobody, an idiot to believe he could ever escape his past and be more. That he could ever move beyond the demons plaguing him and find peace.

“You really thought I cared about you?” she said, raising her gloved fists.

His arms were cement blocks now. His brain was screaming, but his lips refused to move. He was defenseless against
her attack—physically, verbally, emotionally.

“You really thought someone like me would fall for someone like you?” she asked, throwing the first jab. It connected with his jaw, snapping his head back, but the impact didn't rock him nearly as much as the words.

“You were a nobody, Dane, until you killed a guy inside this cage. Then you became a monster—a symbol of everything that's wrong with this sport.” Jab. Right hook.

“And you need to be stopped before you hurt someone else.” She delivered an upper cut that sent him reeling backward toward the ropes, but they disappeared and he fell from the cage . . . and kept falling . . .

His heart racing, his eyes flew open. Sitting up, he tossed the sheets aside and rested his elbows on his knees, struggling to catch a breath. By now, he should be used to the restless nights of troubled sleep, but the vision of Colby had destroyed him. Her words had cut through him like a serrated blade.

Standing, he made his way to the deck and, opening the door, he stepped out into the cool fall air, breathing it in. . . .

Would the nightmares ever stop? Or would his life continue to be one disappointment after another?

Colby scanned her new office. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a large mahogany desk and leather chair. Just like the office she'd had in Seattle. Everything she'd wanted, and had worked hard to prove she deserved. But everything felt like it was coming at too high a price.

She'd agreed to do the story on her first live broadcast three days from now, and while usually after she'd made a decision, she felt better, this time she felt worse. So much was riding on this—good and bad, personally and professionally.

Sighing, she picked up one of her boxes of personal items from the floor and started unpacking.

Dane's fight was the following evening and she was desperate to know if he was ready, if he felt okay, anything . . . but she knew there was no point calling him or texting him. He wouldn't answer and the silence would only break her heart even more. So many times in the last few days she'd replayed their time together in her mind, searching for that perfect moment when telling him the truth and having him still want to stay with her would have been possible, but she couldn't find one. The truth was, the moment she'd allowed him to believe she was an Xtreme Fight ring girl, she'd already lost him.

And she should have been smart enough to realize that and either walk away, once her feelings for him had started to grow, or tell him the truth from the beginning.

She'd done neither, and now she was paying the price for her mistake.

Her intercom buzzed. “Colby, you have a visitor,” the front desk receptionist, Shannon, said. “Should I send him up?”

A visitor. Him? Her heart raced and she forced herself to stay calm. It could be anyone—her father, one of her brothers . . . God, she hoped it was
him
him. “Yes, please.” She hurriedly emptied the box, setting up her desk as quickly as possible. Then she reached for the next box as the door opened. Turning, her eyes widened. “Hi.”

“Hi, Ms. Edwards. My name is Josh Consuelos,” the little boy said, walking shyly into her office.

She nodded. She recognized him from the photos in his home. “Is your mom with you?” she asked, looking past him out into the hall.

He shook his head. “She doesn't know I'm here.”

Great. She wasn't sure what was worse—a parent-ordered guilt trip or the kid acting on his own. They needn't have bothered. She was already feeling so burdened with doubt over the idea of revealing what she knew about the Consuelos
fight and Marco's condition that she was ready to cancel the story. She cleared her throat. “Have a seat, please,” she said, her knees wobbly as she sat in her own chair.

The little boy sat, his feet barely touching the floor.

She knew he was ten or eleven. Too young to have come here alone. Obviously what he was here to say was important to him. “What can I help you with?”

“I know you're doing a story about the Xtreme Fight League.”

She nodded. “That's right.”

He opened his backpack and retrieved a folded piece of paper. “I want to help,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” she said, hoping to keep the sound of surprise out of her voice.

He gripped the paper, staring at it, as though struggling with whether or not he was doing the right thing.

She knew the feeling, and her heart went out to the poor kid. “It's okay, Josh.”

He glanced up in surprise as though he'd forgotten where he was for a second. Then he handed her the paper. “This was a note my dad gave me . . . the night he . . . the night of the fight.”

Oh, shit.

There was already a lump in the back of her throat and she hadn't even read it yet. She took a deep breath. “Josh, this note is very personal and special to you, I can see that, so you really don't have to share this with me,” she said softly. Whatever was written there could potentially change the story, for better or worse.

“I want you to read it,” he said. “I want to help stop other people from getting hurt. Other families.”

“Okay.” Slowly, she took it and opened it and read. By the last line, she could feel tears sliding down her cheeks. Coworkers shot her questioning looks as they passed the glass office walls, more than likely wondering why the new girl was crying in her office on the first day, but she couldn't help it. This note changed nothing for the story or for her.

But it could change everything for Dane.

* * *

Colby yawned, her eyes barely staying open as she made her way to her car after ten o'clock that evening, mentally exhausted from the events of the day. She removed her car keys from her purse and her heels clicked against the almost-empty staff
parking lot.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't hear anyone walking behind her, so the feel of a hand on her arm made her jump. Swinging around, she had the sharp edge of her car key in her hand. “Ashton? What are you doing here?” she asked nervously, hoping her station-employee key card hanging around her neck wasn't visible beneath her suit jacket. Soon enough everyone at Xtreme Fight would know she wasn't a ring girl, but right now, in a dark, empty parking lot wasn't the way she wanted Ashton Bennett to find out.

“What were
you
doing in
there
?” he asked, his grip tightening on her wrist.

She glanced around the dark lot, but there was no one else around. “I was visiting a . . .”

He reached forward and grabbed the key card.

Damn.

“Don't bullshit with me. You work here?” he asked, his voice threatening.

She nodded, glancing around again. Was she the only freaking person who always worked late?
Work ethic, people!

“And you've been snooping around my organization?”

“Your
father's
organization,” she said, keeping her voice steady. How on earth had he discovered who she was, anyway? She wiggled her arm, trying to free it from his grasp, but his hold only tightened.

“
My
future company.”

She wouldn't count on the company having a future, but she remained silent.

His eyes narrowed. “You know, I thought I recognized you from the side of that stupid-looking
Get Fit Las Vegas
van driving around town . . . but without the unibrow, I wasn't sure. Then you didn't show up for the fights last weekend and I talked to Ella and Lucy.”

She sighed. She was busted. The other girls had never fully believed she enjoyed being a ring girl.

“Look, I won't have you sneaking around, doing whatever it is you slimy reporters do . . .”

“Slimy reporters?” Seriously? “Your organization has a history of breaking so many regulations and codes, ignoring medical suspensions, canceling contracts . . .” She could go on.

He yanked her forward and she stumbled on her heels. “Don't pretend like you know anything,” he hissed. “That could be very bad for you.”

Colby's eyes narrowed and her hand clenched around the key. She widened her stance, stabilizing herself a little better in her stilettos. “Let go,” she said firmly.

Ashton smirked, glancing around. “Or what? Listen to me. Stay away from my organization and keep your fucking mouth shut,” he said, his eyes dropping to her lips.

Her heart picked up speed as he held her in place, his eyes taking on a new look—one that terrified her more than his hold or his threatening words. “Let go,” she said again. That way, he couldn't say later she hadn't tried to warn him. Twice.

He laughed. “I don't think I will,” he said, pulling her even closer.

Thirteen years of Karate classes kicked in as she squatted down into a strong stance. Then she leaned forward, bending her elbow toward him, all the way toward his forearm until he could no longer hold her wrist. Keeping all of her fingers straight and tightly together, her thumb tucked and slightly bent at the knuckle, she delivered a knife hand strike to the side of his neck. Then she followed it up with a thrust of her elbow into his throat while pitching the weight of her body toward him.

Ashton bent at the waist, gripping his throat as he coughed and sputtered. He spit and glared up at her. “What the fuck?”

“I told you to let go,” Colby said, her heart still pounding from the adrenaline rush as she stepped farther away from him, heading toward the safety of her car. The attack would only stun him for so long, and she wasn't ready to go another round with a seasoned fighter. Her surprise attack was a one-shot deal.

He straightened and followed her as she picked up her pace, stopping short when she heard another voice to their right as Ashton caught up with her.

“She did say let go. Twice. I heard her.”

She turned in surprise to see Dylan. “You were here this whole time?”

“I would have stepped in, but you looked fine. Besides, someone needed to record you kicking the Xtreme Fight League's welterweight champion's ass.” He held up his phone.

She almost smiled.

“Asshole. I was just talking to her,” Ashton hissed.

“That's not what it looked like from my point of view,” Dylan said, his voice hard.

She'd never heard the guy even close to angry before.

He advanced toward Ashton, still struggling to recover from her self-defense attack. “You ever threaten or go near Colby again, and this video goes viral.”

Ashton glared, looking ready to argue or continue the fight, but then he spit again and stormed off in the opposite direction.

Relieved, her shoulders relaxed. “Where were you hiding?” Colby asked as she headed toward her car.

“I came out the left side entrance,” Dylan said.

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“I wanted to see you kick that guy's ass,” he said with a laugh. “You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I'm fine.”

“Well, the video is at your disposal if you want to press charges.”

She shook her head. She had something much worse than pressing charges in mind. She planned to shut down the organization. “It's fine,” she said, unlocking the car door.

“Is it true what he said? Are you doing a story on the Xtreme Fight League?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He nodded slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Wow, you really did want this job, huh? Enough to put your own safety at risk?”

She nodded. She'd come too far to back out now.

Dylan smiled. “Then I guess I'm happy for you.”

“Thanks, Dylan.”

“Besides, they are letting me hire my new coanchor for the show, and the candidate I have in mind is smoking hot,” he said with a wink.

“Then I guess I'm happy for you too,” she said with a laugh as she opened the car door and climbed inside.

She wished she could be happy for herself, but until this story aired and the dust settled, she couldn't even think about being happy.

* * *

An hour later, she heard Dane's key in his apartment door, and her mouth went dry and her palms sweat as she paced the tiny space.

Entering the apartment, he dropped his bag near the door and a flicker of surprise registered on his face when he saw her. “What are you doing here?”

Her knees unsteady, Colby said, “You wouldn't return my calls or texts.”

“So, you break into my apartment?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Mrs. Everwood let me in, and you didn't have a problem with it before.” The memory of him fucking her on his kitchen counter was too much and she banished the image as she took a step forward. “Look, I'm sorry. I really needed to see you and talk to you.” Hold him, kiss him, never let go.

He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and placed his hands on his hips. “Fine. Talk.”

Now that she had his attention, she had no idea what to say. “I took the job with Knock Out Sports.”

His expression changed, but remained unreadable.

“I'm going to do the story.” The decision still plagued her, but she knew if athletes continued to get hurt fighting for the organization, she would always struggle with her choice of staying quiet if she did. Even if, standing right in front of her, was the one reason she'd ever consider not reporting on the issue.

Dane nodded. “Then I'm not sure why you're here.”

Colby released a breath. “I wanted you to know something.” She wanted him to know a lot of things—that she was truly sorry, that she'd never felt this way about anyone before, and that she was so in love with him, looking at him made it hard to breathe. “About the Consuelos fight,” she said when he remained silent.

“I was there, remember? I'm trying to move on, so whatever it is, save it for your story.”

“This won't be going in my story.” She didn't need the information. He did.

He folded his arms across his chest, which had only expanded and gotten even sexier since he'd returned to the gym. She forced herself to focus. He was done with her. There was no sense torturing herself with thoughts about how much she missed being wrapped in those arms. She'd only gone to his apartment for one reason.

“Dane, I know why Marco didn't stick to the plan inside the cage that night,” she said.

His eyes narrowed and his arms drew tighter around his body as though protecting himself from what might be coming next. Protecting himself from her.

“He wanted to die inside the cage and not wait for the tumor to take him unexpectedly.”

He didn't look convinced. “How do you know that?”

“Because of the insurance policy. The provider hadn't been notified yet of his condition, therefore when he apparently died from the fight, the insurance claim was still paid out to his family.”

He shook his head. “They were struggling for money, but I refuse to believe that Consuelos would have given up the battle so easily,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

“If it meant protecting his wife and son, he would,” she said softly. Reaching into her purse, she retrieved the photocopy of the letter Consuelos had left for his son and handed it to him. “You might want to read this.”