Against the Cage (Worth the Fight #1) (7 page)

“So I punched him and broke his nose. Dude, the guy’s a jerk-off, mayor’s nephew or not.” Slade took a sip of coffee before he spoke again. “Would do it again. He was going to hit her. I don’t regret it.”

When the food arrived, Chrissy pulled her hand out of Jack’s lap, and before Jack began eating he gently squeezed her thigh. They ate, mostly in silence. “Well, I’ll do my best to get the charges dropped, but I can’t promise anything, brother. It’s the mayor. He has a lot of pull at the precinct. Small town and all.”

“Thanks, Jack,” said Chrissy. “And Slade, don’t do anything stupid while you’re out and everything should be fine. Don’t jump bail or anything.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be leaving town. I have a fight tonight. I have to stick
around,” Slade said.

Chrissy choked on the coffee she was sipping, causing her eyes to water. Slade quickly stood and went around the booth. He began patting her on the back, while Jack handed her some napkins. She dried her eyes and waited a moment for the coughing to subside, then used the napkin to clean up the small amount of coffee that had spilled.

“You okay, sis?” Slade asked.

When she could speak again she asked, “Slade, what did you say?”

“I have a fight. Tonight.”

“Bro, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Jack put in. “You’re supposed to be on your best behavior.”

“Don’t worry about me. I have it all under control.”

“Slade, you cannot fight tonight. Are you out of your fucking mind?” Chrissy’s palms were on the table and she was leaning toward him.

“Calm down. It’s not a big deal. I do it all the—” Slade’s cell phone began to ring. He immediately answered and said a few things into the phone as Jack and Chrissy looked at him. He hung up and stood. “Thanks for everything, guys. Gotta go to the gym. That was my trainer. They’re waiting for me. Jack, can you give me a ride?”

Chrissy’s steel-blue eyes were begging Jack not to take Slade anywhere. Jack hesitated for a moment, then took out his wallet, threw a few twenties on the table, and stood up. “See you later,” he said to a stunned Chrissy. Instead of helping her convince Slade not to fight, he was taking Slade to train. Her eyes watered again, but this time it wasn’t from choking but from anger. She didn’t know whom she was angrier at: Slade for getting arrested and for fighting tonight, Jack for taking him to train, or herself for caring.

Just before walking out, Jack glanced back at Chrissy, whose blue eyes were fixed on him incredulously. He cocked his head to the side trying to convey an apology. Chrissy shook her head in disbelief and looked away. She sat alone at the diner for another half hour before heading back home.

Back at the house, Chrissy shut herself in her room and booted up her laptop. She still had not formally accepted the job offer at Miami West, and the HR department at the hospital had been emailing her for an answer. She heard the door open and close downstairs. She stayed in her room, too angry to speak with Slade; besides, she knew there was nothing she could do to convince him not to go tonight. Actually, what she really wanted was for him to stop fighting altogether. After an hour of surfing the Web and listening to the array of noises coming from downstairs—the microwave beeping, the door of the bathroom opening and closing—she heard the front door close and a car take off. Not able to stand it any longer, she hopped out of bed. She’d arranged for his bail, so
she owned him! She’d make sure he was a good little boy tonight, fighting his little fight and then coming straight home.

After quickly getting ready, she slammed the front door shut and stormed to her car. She turned it on and then realized she didn’t know where the hell she was going. She couldn’t very well call Slade and ask because he would never tell her. That left only one person. She looked over and saw his car parked in front of his house. She was going to have to swallow her pride and talk to Jack.

Chapter 4

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Bark. Bark. Bark.

Silky black hair fell on his chest as Chrissy slid onto him. Her piercing blue eyes begged him for more pleasure. She didn’t talk, she didn’t argue, she just enjoyed and accepted what he had to give her. It felt like a triumphant fuck-you because he’d managed to shut her up with pleasure. He put his hands on her hips and lifted her up and then thrust her down while he simultaneously pushed his pelvis deeper into her, again and again until her eyes rolled back in agonized pleasure. She moaned his name as she …

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Bark. Bark. Bark.

“For the love of God! Can’t a guy dream in peace around here?” He hopped out of bed, adjusted himself, and painfully walked downstairs to where Drogo was jumping up and down facing the door, barking. “There better be a damn good reason you’re waking me up, Martin.” He flung the door open.

“There is. I need to know where Slade’s fighting.”

“Oh. Sorry. Wrong Martin.” His fantasy didn’t do justice to how gorgeous she really was.
I hope she doesn’t look down
. He tried to adjust his shorts again, stealthily this time. She reached down to pet Drogo, but he growled, so she pulled back with a small pout. Sexiest damn pout he’d ever seen.

“Pardon?”

“I thought it was Slade knocking. He’s usually the only one that knocks relentlessly like that. I guess it runs in your DNA.” He let out a sigh and stepped aside. “Come on in.”

“No. No time. I need the address of where Slade’s fighting.” He could tell she was trying not to be affected by him, but her gaze trailed down his bare chest and then quickly found his eyes again. “Address. Now. Please.”

“What for?”

“So I can go.”

“Why?”

“I want to make sure he’s safe and comes straight home.”

“He’s not twelve years old, Chris. You can’t control him.”

“Are you going to help me or not? This is a small enough town. I’m sure if I ask around someone will give me the address of the fight.”

“Is there any way, any way at all, I can convince you not to go?” She shook her head. “Fuck, Chris. Give me a minute. Let me get dressed. Come in for a sec.”

“Why? I don’t need you to go. I only need the address.” She reached down again, and Drogo growled once more. As if she owned the house, Chrissy walked over to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out peanut butter and grape jelly. Jack looked at her, completely bewildered. Did she even know what she was doing? Was she hungry? She slathered a slice of bread with peanut butter and jelly and cut it into small pieces. She placed a small square on her palm and bent down.

Jack shook his head as if he was trying to get the weirdness out of his brain. “I’m not letting you go by yourself. And what the hell are you doing?” He reached down to pull her up.

“Never mind what I’m doing!” She swatted his hand away and stayed crouched down. “Save the big-brother act. I’m not the same little girl you thought you had to protect. I’ve grown up. I can fend for myself.” Drogo hesitantly walked over to her, sniffed her palm, and backed away. Chrissy placed the small squares on the floor, stood, and wiped her hands on a nearby washcloth. “Please, I just need the address.”

Jack sighed. Didn’t she understand that the dog would never like her? He didn’t like anyone, including Jack, who fed and housed him!

“Oh, trust me, I know you’re not the same little girl you used to be.” His heated gaze swept her body. “That’s exactly why I have to go with you. You’re not going alone to a testosterone-fueled cage fight. So be a doll and sit your pretty little ass on this chair for five minutes so I can get dressed.”

Five minutes later, Jack was tying the laces of his sneakers. He was wearing black sweatpants that fell low on his hips and a white tank top. Chrissy sat on the wood floor, her legs crossed, feeding Drogo small PB&J squares with her right hand while cautiously petting him with her left hand. The dog still appeared tentative about being touched, but it seemed that if petting came as a package deal with the food, Drogo had conceded to it. Jack rolled his eyes at the sight of Chrissy on the floor of his house, so sweet and docile—a very big change from the feistiness of just a few minutes ago. “Come on, beautiful girl. Let’s go keep your six-foot-four, three-hundred-pound professional cage fighter of a brother safe and sound.”

She tried to give Drogo one last pat before she stood up, but the pup took a step back. “Damn, I thought I’d won him over,” she mumbled. “Stop making fun, Jack. Come
on, let’s go.” She pulled him by the arm as if she were twice his size. It was adorable. Ridiculous, but adorable.

“Wait. Before we go anywhere, you need to go change your shoes. You can’t go in heels to where we’re going.”

“These aren’t heels. They’re wedges.”

“I don’t know what you just said, but you can’t go in those shoes. Go get something more appropriate.”

“Fine, bossy man. I’ll be right back.” She ran across the lawn and was back in a minute.

“Better?”

He looked down to see her tight jeans tucked into cowboy boots. He ran a hand down the back of his skull and squeezed the back of his neck, trying to keep his head from exploding. He mumbled, “Evil, evil woman.”

“What?” Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked down at her feet. “They’re boots. They’re not open-toed.”

“Chris, seriously? You’re going to get me killed. Let’s go before I hurl you over my shoulder and carry you straight into my bed, where the only thing you’ll be thinking about is a different kind of contact sport.”

“You wish, buddy. I’m still so pissed off at you for taking him to train today that if I didn’t need the address, I would have never spoken to you again. If you really cared about him, you’d understand how stupid this is. He was just arrested for fighting. This has to be some sort of violation of bail or something. As a cop, not to mention his friend, you should be on my side. I don’t know why you just can’t give me the address and let me go on my own.” She took a step toward him and poked his chest. “And stop calling me Chris!”

“He was gonna go whether I drove him or not, Chrissy.” He slowly and loudly drawled out her name, as if making a point. “The entire way there I tried to convince him not to fight. I thought he’d listen to me if it was just him and me shooting the breeze. He doesn’t do well with confrontations.”

“Look, I don’t have time for this. If you’re coming with me, we have to go. Hurry up.”

She started to cross the lawn toward her car, but he reached for her forearm and swung her back and around to the garage. “We’ll take my car. Come on.” He pointed to the massive Jeep parked in his two-car garage. For once, she didn’t argue; she just shook her head, amused. “Big car.”

“Big guy,” he replied, pointing at himself and giving her a big, dimpled,
mischievous smile.

They drove in silence. When they arrived, Chrissy looked around, taking in her surroundings. They were in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The warehouse was dilapidated, damp, and very crowded. Jack’s senses were on high alert, telling him that it was a bad idea for her to be there. But if he hadn’t gone with her, she would’ve gone alone, and that was not something he would have permitted.

“Just because you’re here doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you or at this entire situation,” she said, waving her arm to indicate the warehouse. From the way she held her head up high and stood in perfect posture, Jack could tell she was trying to be brave. But fear was written all over her face and her eyes were wide open, like a blue-eyed Bambi.

To top it off, she was dressed completely inappropriately. She had her hair in a long ponytail and was wearing jeans that were practically painted on, a black tank top, and cowboy boots that should have looked unfeminine but might actually have been the most sexually arousing pair of shoes he’d ever seen, even more so than her broken red high heels. Okay, probably because they were on Chrissy. He knew this was not a place that women frequented, and the men would most certainly notice her. The proper outfit would have been … well, he couldn’t think of one, because she shouldn’t have been there.

The closer they got to the center of the warehouse, the thicker the crowd got.

“Where’s the ring or the cage?” she asked.

“These underground fights don’t work like that. The crowd
is
the ring. Slade will fight in the middle.” He pointed to a large group of people. “You see those rowdy people over there? They will form a circle, and that circle will act as the ring. Do not go anywhere near that area. You hear me?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” She continued looking around. “So this isn’t a professional fight, is it?”

“No. Definitely not.”

He noticed that she had slowly inched her way closer to him. Admittedly, he’d never felt ashamed of what he did, but bringing Chrissy into this seedy environment disturbed him. He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, tucking her under his left arm. She looked up at him, and in her face he saw absolutely no trace of humor or even the lust that had glazed her eyes the last few times they’d been together. All he saw was concern, and it tore at his heart. “Just trying to keep you safe,” he told her.

He looked around, trying to do a quick surveillance of the premise. He wanted to acquaint himself with all the exits, find where the rowdiest groups were standing, and see if anyone looked suspicious—just a habit he’d picked up from spending all these years as
a cop.

She leaned into him on the tips of her toes and said into his ear, “I thought you said this was safe.”

It was so loud, it was hard to hear her. He bent down. “That’s not what I said. I said that I know what I’m doing when I get in the cage and fight. I can’t vouch for these assholes that stand around betting and drinking.”

“This doesn’t look legal. I remember seeing something similar to this in a small town in Brazil a few years back. People got seriously injured that night. You’re a cop—how can you be okay with this?”

He clenched his jaw and whispered, “You’re right, Chrissy, this isn’t legal and this isn’t the kind of place I fight in. My fights are sanctioned. This underground shit is something entirely different. But I’m going to pretend I’m not seeing this, as I’m off-duty. You understand?”

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