Fighting Dirty
Page 75
God, he’d set himself up for that one.
“Go to her,” Simon said. “Work it out so you can get your head on straight.”
“My head’s right where it belongs. So what next?”
Disgusted, Simon gestured for the locker room. “Go shower. Cool down. You’re done here.”
Hell of an idea.
“Think I’ll head home to my wife,” Cannon said as Armie passed. He probably hoped to get a rise out of him, but Armie wasn’t up for playing.
He felt too damn destroyed.
“I almost feel sorry for him,” Denver said.
“I always feel sorry for pathetic asses,” Stack agreed.
When no one trailed him to the showers, Armie welcomed the reprieve. He showered, taking longer than necessary, soaking his head and doing his best to ignore the giant hollow pain in his soul that seemed to expand more each day.
As he was drying off, Jude called.
Naked, Armie grabbed up his cell to answer.
Before he got a single word out, Jude said, “Simon claims you’re out of sorts.”
Armie held the phone out and stared at it. When he put it back to his ear, he gave a bitter laugh. “You guys gossip like old women.”
“Or like people who care.”
He hadn’t asked them to care, damn it. “You’re serious?”
“Damn straight. I want to know that this fight is a priority for you.”
Too much so, but Armie saw no reason to share that. “Yeah. Top priority.”
“You’re a miserable liar.”
“I’m a terrific liar!”
Jude laughed. “Nothing makes a man surlier than woman troubles.”
Growling, Armie asked, “Is that it?”
“Not quite. I wanted you to know I checked into that mystery reporter. A couple of the MMA mags said the story was turned in to them, but they passed since it was anonymous and they couldn’t verify any facts.”
Armie knew it couldn’t be that easy. “What did you do to shut it down?”
With only a slight pause, Jude confessed, “I offered an inside scoop from you—after the fight.”
“Shit.”
“You can handle it. And you know it’ll be good to clear the air once and for all.”
“Yeah.” He hated being indebted to Jude. “Thanks.”
“You can thank me by wearing my sponsored gear. Now get back to following Simon’s directions. Since my coach, Denny Zip, retired, he and Havoc are the best in the business. Got it?”
Since Armie felt he’d been doing that anyway, he shrugged. “Sure.”
“And Armie?”
With an eye roll, he asked, “What?”
“There’s a huge difference between honor and stupidity. Trust the lady.”
Armie had his mouth open to reply, but he realized Jude had already disconnected.
Damn it, it wasn’t about trust. Without being able to pinpoint the threat, the only sure way to keep her safe was to stay away from her. If they weren’t together, no one could use her in attempts to hurt him. So he’d stick to his plan regardless of what anyone else thought about it, or how it killed him.
He pulled on jeans, then a T-shirt that said, Remember my name, you’ll be screaming it later. It used to be one of his favorite shirts, but now he wondered if he needed to overhaul his wardrobe. Should he switch to—puke—polo shirts?
Maybe he’d have Jude send him a supply of SBC and promotional shirts, instead.
Skipping socks, he stepped into running shoes and grabbed his jacket. He finger-combed his hair, snagged his gym bag and headed out.
Since he’d finished up earlier today, he should have time to ride by Rissy’s work to ensure she got out of there without a hassle.
The thought of seeing her again, even from a distance, cleared some of the storm clouds fogging up his brain. He’d done that each day, stolen little glimpses of her without her knowing.
God knew he was into all kinds of kinky shit, but he’d never considered himself a masochist.
The gym was crowded when he headed out. On one side, a group of twelve women did a self-defense class with Justice. On the other side, fifteen or so kids gathered with Brand.
When they saw Armie they called out—the women and the kids.
Armie checked the clock on the wall, saw he still had some time before Rissy would leave the bank and headed over to the kids.
It warmed his frozen heart having the younger ones jump on him, hug him or hang on his legs. For this particular group, they were anywhere from seven to eleven years old—all of them bursting with energy, all of them pretty damned cute.
“Such a welcome,” Armie said, making a point to bump fists, tousle hair or pat the shoulder of each one.
Brand folded his arms. “It’s almost like you guys have missed him or something.”
The resounding confirmations made Armie grin and, for only a moment, lightened his mood.
“Got a minute or two to give them some pointers?” Brand asked. And by pointers, he meant a little time to make the kids feel special.
Armie always had time for that. “Sure.” He dropped his bag off to the side and after catching up on what skills they’d be working on that day, he demonstrated a few—which included some tickling and tossing and horseplay.
When they got serious, Brand said, “Anyone remember how to avoid a takedown?”
Several of the boys did, and they went through the drills with Brand and Armie watching.
Armie was about to make his excuses and go, when the front door flew open and Bray busted in.
“Damn.” He walked away from Brand and met Bray near the front.
Huffing, Bray bent at the waist, his hands on his knees as he sucked in air.
“You’re okay?”
Bray nodded. Coughed, drank in several more deep breaths and slowly straightened.
Armie looked beyond him through the glass front door and out into the darkening day. “Do your foster parents know you’re here?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Concerned, exasperated, Armie drew him to the side where it was quieter to give them a little privacy. He stared down at the boy. “We talked about this.”
“I know, but this is important.” He drew a final deep breath and let it out slowly.
Justice walked up. “Everything okay?”
Armie glanced at him, then accepted the bottle of water Justice held out. “Yeah, thanks.”
With a pat on Bray’s back, Justice went back to the women.
Armie opened the water and handed it to Bray. “Did you run all the way here?”
“Pretty much.” He chugged down some water, looked worriedly at the door, then frowned up at Armie. “I remembered something else and I had to tell you.”
“It couldn’t wait?”
Bray shook his head. “Those people at the park? They talked about a robbery, and how an MMA guy there screwed up their plans.”
Armie’s blood rushed cold. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I forgot about it at first, but the more I thought on it, the more stuff I remembered.”
If that was true, Armie needed to let Cannon know, and he needed to get hold of Logan. It might even be a good enough excuse to go see Rissy, just to update her. She’d want to know if there was proof that the incidents were all tied together, dating back to the bank robbery.
“Go to her,” Simon said. “Work it out so you can get your head on straight.”
“My head’s right where it belongs. So what next?”
Disgusted, Simon gestured for the locker room. “Go shower. Cool down. You’re done here.”
Hell of an idea.
“Think I’ll head home to my wife,” Cannon said as Armie passed. He probably hoped to get a rise out of him, but Armie wasn’t up for playing.
He felt too damn destroyed.
“I almost feel sorry for him,” Denver said.
“I always feel sorry for pathetic asses,” Stack agreed.
When no one trailed him to the showers, Armie welcomed the reprieve. He showered, taking longer than necessary, soaking his head and doing his best to ignore the giant hollow pain in his soul that seemed to expand more each day.
As he was drying off, Jude called.
Naked, Armie grabbed up his cell to answer.
Before he got a single word out, Jude said, “Simon claims you’re out of sorts.”
Armie held the phone out and stared at it. When he put it back to his ear, he gave a bitter laugh. “You guys gossip like old women.”
“Or like people who care.”
He hadn’t asked them to care, damn it. “You’re serious?”
“Damn straight. I want to know that this fight is a priority for you.”
Too much so, but Armie saw no reason to share that. “Yeah. Top priority.”
“You’re a miserable liar.”
“I’m a terrific liar!”
Jude laughed. “Nothing makes a man surlier than woman troubles.”
Growling, Armie asked, “Is that it?”
“Not quite. I wanted you to know I checked into that mystery reporter. A couple of the MMA mags said the story was turned in to them, but they passed since it was anonymous and they couldn’t verify any facts.”
Armie knew it couldn’t be that easy. “What did you do to shut it down?”
With only a slight pause, Jude confessed, “I offered an inside scoop from you—after the fight.”
“Shit.”
“You can handle it. And you know it’ll be good to clear the air once and for all.”
“Yeah.” He hated being indebted to Jude. “Thanks.”
“You can thank me by wearing my sponsored gear. Now get back to following Simon’s directions. Since my coach, Denny Zip, retired, he and Havoc are the best in the business. Got it?”
Since Armie felt he’d been doing that anyway, he shrugged. “Sure.”
“And Armie?”
With an eye roll, he asked, “What?”
“There’s a huge difference between honor and stupidity. Trust the lady.”
Armie had his mouth open to reply, but he realized Jude had already disconnected.
Damn it, it wasn’t about trust. Without being able to pinpoint the threat, the only sure way to keep her safe was to stay away from her. If they weren’t together, no one could use her in attempts to hurt him. So he’d stick to his plan regardless of what anyone else thought about it, or how it killed him.
He pulled on jeans, then a T-shirt that said, Remember my name, you’ll be screaming it later. It used to be one of his favorite shirts, but now he wondered if he needed to overhaul his wardrobe. Should he switch to—puke—polo shirts?
Maybe he’d have Jude send him a supply of SBC and promotional shirts, instead.
Skipping socks, he stepped into running shoes and grabbed his jacket. He finger-combed his hair, snagged his gym bag and headed out.
Since he’d finished up earlier today, he should have time to ride by Rissy’s work to ensure she got out of there without a hassle.
The thought of seeing her again, even from a distance, cleared some of the storm clouds fogging up his brain. He’d done that each day, stolen little glimpses of her without her knowing.
God knew he was into all kinds of kinky shit, but he’d never considered himself a masochist.
The gym was crowded when he headed out. On one side, a group of twelve women did a self-defense class with Justice. On the other side, fifteen or so kids gathered with Brand.
When they saw Armie they called out—the women and the kids.
Armie checked the clock on the wall, saw he still had some time before Rissy would leave the bank and headed over to the kids.
It warmed his frozen heart having the younger ones jump on him, hug him or hang on his legs. For this particular group, they were anywhere from seven to eleven years old—all of them bursting with energy, all of them pretty damned cute.
“Such a welcome,” Armie said, making a point to bump fists, tousle hair or pat the shoulder of each one.
Brand folded his arms. “It’s almost like you guys have missed him or something.”
The resounding confirmations made Armie grin and, for only a moment, lightened his mood.
“Got a minute or two to give them some pointers?” Brand asked. And by pointers, he meant a little time to make the kids feel special.
Armie always had time for that. “Sure.” He dropped his bag off to the side and after catching up on what skills they’d be working on that day, he demonstrated a few—which included some tickling and tossing and horseplay.
When they got serious, Brand said, “Anyone remember how to avoid a takedown?”
Several of the boys did, and they went through the drills with Brand and Armie watching.
Armie was about to make his excuses and go, when the front door flew open and Bray busted in.
“Damn.” He walked away from Brand and met Bray near the front.
Huffing, Bray bent at the waist, his hands on his knees as he sucked in air.
“You’re okay?”
Bray nodded. Coughed, drank in several more deep breaths and slowly straightened.
Armie looked beyond him through the glass front door and out into the darkening day. “Do your foster parents know you’re here?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Concerned, exasperated, Armie drew him to the side where it was quieter to give them a little privacy. He stared down at the boy. “We talked about this.”
“I know, but this is important.” He drew a final deep breath and let it out slowly.
Justice walked up. “Everything okay?”
Armie glanced at him, then accepted the bottle of water Justice held out. “Yeah, thanks.”
With a pat on Bray’s back, Justice went back to the women.
Armie opened the water and handed it to Bray. “Did you run all the way here?”
“Pretty much.” He chugged down some water, looked worriedly at the door, then frowned up at Armie. “I remembered something else and I had to tell you.”
“It couldn’t wait?”
Bray shook his head. “Those people at the park? They talked about a robbery, and how an MMA guy there screwed up their plans.”
Armie’s blood rushed cold. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I forgot about it at first, but the more I thought on it, the more stuff I remembered.”
If that was true, Armie needed to let Cannon know, and he needed to get hold of Logan. It might even be a good enough excuse to go see Rissy, just to update her. She’d want to know if there was proof that the incidents were all tied together, dating back to the bank robbery.
