Chapter Sixteen
Xander was silent as he wrapped the white tape around Aiden’s left wrist and hand in a practiced, methodical manner. There was no point in going over the game plan they’d worked on during the week to beat Aiden’s upcoming opponent. He was no longer planning on beating him. The new plan was to make the first two rounds look close, then go down somewhere in the third round.
Then it would all be over…
His short-lived consideration for making a career comeback.
The debt owed to Sicoli, plus the blackmail money owed to Sully, thereby eliminating the danger to Kat and her sister.
And his brief departure from reality where he entertained the dream of being with Kat…indefinitely.
It was that last one that threatened to kill him. He hadn’t gotten any sleep last night and had almost raided Xander’s personal stash of scotch. He’d just wanted to drink until he was so numb he couldn’t feel anymore. But he’d tried that tactic after Janey was killed, needing to erase the memory of her being struck by the car only a few feet away from him, and it hadn’t worked then, either. He’d learned the hard way that abusing alcohol was nothing but a one-way ticket to a life of hell.
The difference now was that a life without Kat felt like a different kind of hell. The kind that burned him soul-deep. And he doubted anything existed that could put out the flames.
“That feel okay?” Xander asked after patting down the end of the tape.
Aiden flexed his fingers then made a fist. “Fine.” He nodded for him to wrap his right hand and attempted to turn his thoughts to the present.
The room they were set up in wasn’t very big, nor was it the cleanest. But it gave the fighters a place to get prepped and into the zone. Considering the tourney was underground, he considered the private space a luxury. Most of the time fighters in secret circuits had to glove up on the sidelines right before they entered the cage.
He closed his eyes and tried to visualize how he wanted the fight to go. It didn’t matter if he was taking a fall or not. He still had to walk the fine line of beating the guy up enough to make it look like he was trying without actually knocking his block off for two rounds.
Aiden didn’t move when he heard the hinges creak as the door opened, letting in the deafening noise of the crowd echoing down the hall. He expected a runner to announce how much time he had left, but when the door clicked shut, he froze and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
Kat.
He felt her there as easily as he felt his own limbs. Taking in a deep breath through his nose, he reveled in her lilac scent for a brief moment before he steeled himself and opened his eyes. Jesus Christ. His memory never did her justice, but this was almost like seeing her for the first time all over again.
She was breathtaking in a cream-colored sundress that skimmed her mid-thigh, leaving plenty of her sexy bare legs to view between her hem and the beat-up cowboy boots she wore. Her unbound hair hung behind her delicate shoulders and graceful neck, which held the necklace he’d given her the night before. Off of her he’d thought it was perfect, but on her it looked even more…right.
Aiden was glad to see that the small length of chain did in fact lay over her scar and the blue topaz made her eyes practically glow. Or maybe that was the fire she was currently directing at him. He’d witnessed a myriad of emotional states from Kat, but he didn’t recall anger ever being one of them. Until now.
“What are you doing here, Kat?” He gestured to Xander to continue taping his hand to give him something to watch other than the rise and fall of her chest with every breath she took.
“I came to support you in your fight, watch you win, and then take you back to my place so you can apologize to Murphy for upsetting him last night and tell him you have no intention of going anywhere.”
Raising a questioning brow, he chanced a quick glance at her. Fuck. He should have kept his eyes closed earlier. Now he was having a damn hard time reminding himself of all the reasons he couldn’t scoop her up and ravish her on the spot. Turning his attention back to the wrap job, he tried to sound as unaffected as possible. “I already said everything I needed to say to Murphy last night. He’ll forget all about me in no time.”
“Oh, you think so, do you?” she fired back. “Did you ever think maybe you should ask him what he wants? Or do you always decide what’s best for everyone else?”
Xander finished wrapping Aiden’s hand and grabbed the gym bag with his street clothes in it. “I’ll wait outside for you, but we’ve only got a few minutes.”
Aiden nodded and watched enviously as his best friend received a smile and welcoming hug from Kat. In return, Xan whispered something in her ear to which she replied loud and clear, “Not a chance.” He laughed, kissed her on the cheek, and moved out to the hall, closing the door behind him.
Aiden told himself not to ask, but damn if his pride ever listened to him. “What’d he say to you?”
She folded her arms across her chest and cocked a stubborn hip to the side. “He told me to take it easy on you because you’re a bloody half-wit.”
He scoffed and unfolded himself from the metal chair he’d been straddling. “I suppose you agree with him, is that it?”
“Based on your theory of me being too good for you, yes, I’d have to say that I do.”
“You are too good for me, Kat. Why is that so hard for you to see?” Frustration had him pacing in the small room like a penned lion. “You’re an amazing person with a good heart and you deserve every happiness you can get.”
Stalking over to him, she grabbed his arm and pulled him up short. “Then I’m not the only one who has bad eyesight because I can say the same to you, Aiden.”
It still affected him to hear her use his given name. Usually she used his nickname except in especially tender moments or when they made love. Now it brought out a Pavlovian reaction in him. One where any time she used it, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and show her just how much she meant to him.
“Why are you here, Kat?” he ground out.
“Because I’m tired of others deciding my future for me. So now I’m going to fight for what I want. And what I want”—she placed her gentle hands on either side of his face and held his gaze—“is you, Aiden Murphy O’Brien. All of you.”
Ah, hell, he knew he never should have given her his middle name. He blew out a breath and lowered his forehead to hers, keeping his eyes closed for fear of her seeing the coward he truly was if she looked too closely. “Kat, you don’t know what—”
Fingers pressed against his lips cut him off. “Don’t you dare patronize me and say I don’t know what I want. That’s bullshit and you know it.”
He couldn’t help the crooked grin from cracking his stoic mask. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a force to be reckoned with, Katherine Terese MacGregor?”
She rewarded him with a brilliant smile and hooked her hands around his neck. His arms instinctively wrapped around her trim waist and he pulled her against him. “Not even once,” she said, “but I like the way it sounds.”
Aiden chuckled, losing himself to the drug of her happiness. A hard knock on the door yanked him back to the present as a pit bull of a man entered the room. He looked like he’d been in the cage more than his fair share back in his prime and had an attitude to match.
“O’Brien, you know who I am?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. McManus, I do.”
“Good,” Victor said with a satisfied grin. “I’ll be watching your fight. If you manage a repeat of last week, I’d like to talk about your long-term options. I’ll be in touch.”
Aiden barely had time to get out a polite “thank you” before the manager punctuated the almost-conversation with a terse nod and left as quickly as he came.
Kat turned to him, excitement shining on her face. “Oh my God, that was so awesome! I can’t wait to see what he has to say after you win again tonight.”
Nothing like reality giving him a swift kick in the nuts to remind him of why he didn’t want her at the fight. Not only did his ego balk at her witnessing such a shitty fight, but he had no idea if the Sicoli boys would want their cannoli and eat it, too, and he didn’t want to serve her up on a silver platter.
“Kat, listen to me,” he said, bringing her hands down in front of him. “I want you to go home, and after I’m done fighting I’ll come over and we can talk then, okay?”
“Absolutely not. I’m here to support you and cheer you on. End of discussion.”
Xan’s voice bellowed through the door. “Two minutes or you forfeit, mate. Let’s go!”
Damn it, he had no time to argue, and to say she was in rare form would be an understatement. Fuck! “Okay fine, but you stay close to Xander, you hear me? I don’t trust anyone in this joint. Promise me you’ll stay with him. No matter what, Kat.”
Crossing her heart with a finger, she said, “I promise I’ll stay with Xander.”
He wasn’t nearly satisfied with that, but it would have to do for now. He had a fight to lose if he wanted Kat off the hook and safe to move on with her life. Whether it would be with him or without remained to be seen.
“Then let’s go,” he said, opening the door for her.
Before stepping into the hall, she stopped in front of him with the sort of confidence that only came from one thing: love.
“You’re going to win. I can feel it.”
Bending down, he kissed her lips and savored the tingling sensations curling through his body he thought he’d never experience again. “I hate the thought of disappointing you, kitten.”
“It’s not possible,” she said, offering a reassuring smile.
Though he knew it wasn’t true, Aiden held onto the thought for as long as he could. Apparently no one had taught her not to count her chickens before they hatch. Placing a hand on her lower back, he guided her toward the arena floor and tried not to think about how disappointed in him she was about to be.
…
Kat peeked through the fingers she’d been holding over her eyes for the last… She glanced at the huge digital timer on the wall. It felt like they’d been at it for an hour already. Holy shit, only a minute had gone by in the second round? An agonizing minute of watching Irish barely survive inside the black octagonal cage in the center of a howling, bloodthirsty crowd.
She didn’t understand it. She wasn’t a total imbecile when it came to the sport. She’d caught it on TV a handful of times before she’d even met Irish and watched him train and asked him and Xander a million questions. So why did it seem like something wasn’t right? Not only did Irish look like his heart wasn’t in the fight, but Xander wasn’t even coaching him. The other guy had a couple different people shouting tips and encouragement.
As Aiden was slammed up against the cage yet again, Kat turned to yell into Xander’s ear so he could hear her above the din. “Something’s wrong with him, Xan!”
The bell signaling the end of round two interrupted any answer she may have gotten. Xander picked up a stool and a bucket holding a water bottle, ice bags, and a few other items and raced into the cage. Irish plopped down on the stool, but it didn’t appear as though it was from exhaustion or weakness. He looked…defeated.
Kat gripped the cage and stood on her toes to get as close to him as possible. “Irish!” As Xander rubbed the bag of ice on the backs of his shoulders, Irish turned his head just enough to make eye contact with her. Sweat covered his body and dripped from his hair, but he hadn’t suffered any serious injuries from what she could see. “What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you creaming this guy?”
A cynical smile twisted his lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. He’s the better man this time.”
She jerked back. He couldn’t have shocked her more if he’d hauled off and slapped her.
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve seen you spar harder with Xander than what you’re doing now.” Something she couldn’t pinpoint flashed in his eyes before he looked away. She squeezed the fence links in frustration until her fingers went numb. His second chance for a career in the UFC was on the line and if he didn’t shape up, it would be gone before—
Oh, shit. Is that what he’s doing? “Hey,” she yelled. “You better not be throwing this fight to sabotage your future from some bonehead fear you’ve concocted in that thick skull of yours, O’Brien, or so help me God—”
“He has to throw the fight to pay off Sicoli and the dogs working for him.”
Xander’s words could have been Greek for all the sense they made. If Irish had told him about the situation with Sicoli, then surely he would have mentioned the part about Sicoli being Lenny’s problem now, not hers. Not any longer. Irish said he’d made sure of it.
“What the fuck, Xan?” Irish bit out.
“She needs to know for her own good. Ignorance isn’t bliss, Aid, it’s dangerous.”
“In another five minutes it’ll all be over.”
“Maybe,” Xander said, putting everything back in the bucket. “And maybe not. You have no idea.”
Kat’s heart beat in her throat as her eyes darted between the scowling men, and she prayed fervently that what she thought they were saying wasn’t actually what they were saying. “What the hell are you guys talking about?”
The bell rang again, signaling the end of the break and the beginning of the final round. Irish and Xan stood and exchanged meaningful looks as though sharing a telepathic conversation. Irish nodded. Xander clapped him on the shoulder. By the time Xan reached her on the outside of the cage and the third round began, Kat was a bundle of nerves ready to explode. She grabbed at the front of Xander’s shirt. “What’s he doing, Xander? I need to know.”
He cut a pointed glance off to the side. “See those two guys over there with the cheap suits?”
“You mean the guys who work for Victor McManus? They came to talk to Irish last night at work.”
“They don’t work for Victor. They work for Sicoli.” Concern etched his face and his large hands settled on her shoulders. “Irish entered the tourney for the prize money. He promised those assholes double what they needed to bring back to their boss so they’d leave you alone. Only then they got greedy and told him he needed to fall in the third round tonight. Or else.”
Kat reeled. The world fell out of focus briefly…and then everything became crystal clear. So this was what it felt like to fall down the rabbit hole. The safe world she thought she’d been living in for the past couple of weeks was replaced by one where nothing was as it seemed. One where the man she loved was risking his safety and his career for her.
Oh, no. Just like Nessie tried to do. No, no, no. She couldn’t let him destroy his future to save hers. It wasn’t worth it.
Releasing Xander, Kat turned back to the fight. The crowd seemed to have gotten louder, but maybe that was because now she needed to get Irish’s attention. She screamed his name as the men shoved off from each other and squared up in the center again.
“Don’t you dare lose this fight, do you hear me?” He did because his gaze flicked to her before returning to the brute across from him. “This was never your problem! I’ll leave town, and they’ll follow me!”
In a lightning-quick move that proved he hadn’t been fighting near his full potential, Irish threw a left-right combo that ended with his fist in his opponent’s groin. The audience empathized with a collective groan as the guy covered his balls and doubled over. The ref called a timeout, but Irish was already stalking in her direction.
He pulled out his mouth guard with one hand and used the other to point at her through one of the holes in the cage. “Don’t even fucking think about it. You leave town, and you’re as good as dead.”
“I dodged them once; I can do it again.”
“They have a tracker on you, Kat,” he yelled. “That’s what that thing is in your forearm.”
Chills tripped down her spine as she rubbed her thumb over the small bump. That they’d known her every step for weeks made her want to throw up. Instead she lifted her chin and tried projecting a determination she didn’t yet feel. “I’ll get it out.”
“Goddammit, listen to me.” Lowering to his haunches, Irish got as close to her as the cage allowed. “They know about your sister. They threatened to bring her in to Sicoli if you ran.”
All the blood drained from her head. If it wasn’t for Xander steadying her she would have collapsed where she stood. “Kat!” Irish hit the cage with an open palm, snapping her to attention. “Just stay with Xan and let me handle this, okay?”
She nodded despite the terror snaking its way up her spine. Satisfied with her agreement, Irish unfolded to his full height. Standing there in his shorts and fingerless gloves, fists and jaw clenched, he looked every bit the warrior she knew him to be. As scared as she was, she trusted him with her life—literally.
The ref called for the fighters. She watched him turn and walk to the center of the cage, every step taking him closer to the moment that would put an end to her trouble…and an end to his second chance.
Kat clasped her hands together and pressed them to her mouth. With Vanessa’s life on the line, she couldn’t afford to think of the down sides for her or Irish. Surely this underground tournament wasn’t the only way for him to regain his place in the world of MMA. Once all this was over, she’d do whatever it took to get him another shot. Then she’d only owe him a couple dozen more huge favors to make them even.
The fight resumed. Kat’s eyes darted in a continuous circle: Irish, digital clock, thugs. Repeat. This round wasn’t nearly as active as the previous two. The other guy was doing a lot of leg kicks to the inside of Irish’s knee and dancing around, but not much else. Less than two minutes remained on the clock. If something didn’t happen soon, the fight would be over.
She leaned into Xander. “Why isn’t anything happening?”
“The wanker’s not entirely stupid. He’s clearly won the first two rounds, so all he has to do is survive the third to win the fight.”
“Does his deal count if he loses by decision?”
Xander shook his head. “Has to be by knockout or submission in the third round.” As they talked, Irish started getting more aggressive. He pressed the fight, punched harder. At one point he even taunted the other guy. “He’s trying to make him throw something or go in for a takedown. To do that he’ll have to either piss him off or make him think there’s a chance he’s about to lose.”
Those sounded like long shots. Maybe worse than long shots. She’d have more confidence if Xander didn’t look just as worried. He had a shitty poker face.
Kat glanced at the clock. Forty-five seconds. Her stomach roiled and acid crept up her throat. She swallowed it down, wincing from the burn. Leaning back slightly she found Sully and Vinnie in the back. Scowls darkened their faces as they took note of the clock ticking down what little time was left in the fight. Sully said something to Vinnie and they started moving toward the aisle, keeping an eye on the fight, the clock…and her.
Shit!
When Irish noticed the thugs making their way to the front, rage flashed over his face. Spitting out his mouth guard, he held his arms out wide and shouted at his opponent. He was clearly antagonizing him, although with the crowd’s deafening shouts it was impossible to hear what he said. The other fighter continued to bounce on his toes, and then winked at Irish with a smug, plastic-filled grin.
Irish roared and threw a right cross that had his target spinning around, his face leading as the rest of his body attempted to untwist itself before falling in a boneless heap at the ref’s feet.
Time slowed to a crawl. She prayed the man would get up and counter with something even remotely convincing so Irish could fake a believable loss. But her prayers went unanswered. The man didn’t move and the ref called the fight, raising Irish’s hand as the winner.
Then all hell broke loose.
The crowd went wild and some of them rushed the cage to celebrate with the winner. Irish was stuck in the sea of fans that now resembled a mosh pit at a grunge concert, but he still had his height advantage that allowed him to see the same thing she did: the bad guys closing in.
“Kat, run! Go! Get out of here!”
She never shook her head so hard in her life. “I’m not going anywhere without you!”
He shouted a string of curses and used his broad shoulders to shove his way through the throng. Kat looked over her shoulder. The thugs were now pushing people out of their way. Xander picked up Irish’s duffel bag in one hand and grabbed onto Kat’s arm with the other.
At last Irish emerged, his gloves already off. He jumped and hauled himself up onto the padded top of the fence, then dropped over to the outside. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he dug through his bag as Xan held it for him.
Kat gripped his arm. “What are you doing? We have to go!”
His still-taped hand emerged holding her gun, which he pointed straight into the air and shot off twice. The mass of fight fans panicked. They pushed in every direction for the nearest exit only to tangle themselves up more and more.
Irish leaned in to say something to Xander, then grabbed onto her hand and said, “Don’t let go and don’t look back!”
She nodded, but she didn’t think he noticed. He was too busy pulling her in the direction of the hall they’d come from earlier. Once they reached it, they broke into a dead run. Their steps echoed in the cement tunnel, making it sound like a posse was hot on their heels. They burst through the metal door at the end, into the gravel parking lot that had already started filling with the panic-stricken fans.
“Where’s your car?”
Kat pointed off to the right. “Over there in the very back.”
They took off running again, but they didn’t get far before they heard the men following their lead. Her heart jackhammered against her ribs so hard her chest ached. A second later a gunshot sounded and struck a car next to them. Kat ducked and screamed.
“Come on!” Irish pulled her up and wove them through the maze of cars. “I see it. Almost there!”
The pandemonium spread over the parking lot. Shouts and screams mixed with slamming doors and spinning tires. Fear had a death grip on her throat, severing her voice. She couldn’t get a full breath. Several more gunshots rang out and peppered the ground and vehicles around them, and still she ran with her eyes locked on Irish. Her protector. Her lifeline.
With only one more row separating them and her car, he ordered her to go on ahead, get into the passenger seat, and start the engine. The thought of leaving him behind scared the hell out of her, but the fact that he planned on driving the car said he had no intentions of not catching up. Bolting ahead, she grabbed her keys from her purse and unlocked the passenger door as fast as her shaking hands allowed.
As she yanked it open, she heard more gunshots. Unable to stop herself, she looked back to see Irish running toward her with Sully and Vinnie close behind. He yelled for her to start the car, effectively ending her frozen-in-fear moment. Seconds later, she watched Irish slide across the hood and then fling himself around the drivers’ door she’d opened. Throwing the car into gear, he pushed her head down and took off.
They didn’t speak for several minutes. The only sounds were that of the car and their panting as they both tried to catch their breath. When he finally lifted his hand from her back, she eased herself up and looked over at him. Both hands gripped the wheel tightly, the muscles in his arms twitching from tension. Determination and seething anger warred on his face in the set of his brow and the clenching of his jaw.
She noticed he never once glanced at the rearview or side mirrors, whereas she wanted to turn full around and watch for any tails. He appeared so wrapped up in his thoughts that Kat wondered if he remembered she was there. She was almost afraid to speak, but she had to know what he was thinking.
Glancing at the side mirror, she asked, “How long do you think it’ll be before they catch up with us?”
“I saw their Caddy as we were running, so I shot their tires out. It should give us a good enough head start until we can get rid of everything they can use to find us.”
She rubbed a finger over the bump in her forearm. “Like my tracker,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” he agreed reluctantly. “Like that.”
He grunted as he shifted in his seat. And that’s when she saw the blood.