Chapter One
Xander James wedged his fingers under the rubber tread of the six-hundred-pound tractor tire. Drips of sweat stung his eyes. Teeth clenched, he straightened his legs and lifted until he flipped it over, roaring through his exhale.
“Let’s go, man, you’re halfway there. Once you’re done with this set you have five minutes of jumping rope and then you get a five-minute break.”
Xan glared at Reid Andrews, his friend and the man he hired to be his coach to get him ready for his next semi-pro MMA fight. “A whole five minutes? You’re a cruel bastard, Andrews, you know that?”
“That’s why you pay me the big bucks, British.”
Yeah, he was paying for this hell all right, only the currency was his sore muscles and aching joints. But it was well worth it. There was nothing more serious to him than earning his spot back in the UFC, the professional MMA fighting organization. If he lost his upcoming fight, he could kiss his hopes of having a UFC career good-bye. He’d take Reid’s ass-kicking over that outcome any day.
Swiping his forearm across his forehead, Xan said, “Big bucks, my arse. If you let me pay you at all, I’d at least be within my rights to demand a little mercy. But as you insist on torturing me pro bono, it seems I’m well and truly fucked.”
Reid folded his tattooed arms across his chest and shot Xan a devilish smirk. “What are friends for, British? Now, less talking. More flipping.”
“Aye-aye, Coach.” He flipped his friend the bird and reached for the tire again.
Reid’s nickname for him wasn’t all that original considering Xander was from England, but he supposed it was better than some of the other names the fighters bandied about in his gym.
Facing the front entrance as he was, Xan couldn’t help but notice the older businessman who strutted into the lobby. The fancy trousers and tie looked completely out of place among the shirtless men grunting through their workouts at various stations throughout the open floor plan of the gym. The starched expression on his face was rivaled only by that of the starch in his lily-white shirt.
“Bollocks,” Xan muttered between deep breaths after completing the set. The last man he wanted to deal with right now was Richard Caldwell. He owned the building here in Rose Valley—a suburb of Vegas—that Xan leased for his MMA gym, TLP2. It was the second location of TLP, the gym his friends Irish and Jax had opened on the island of Oahu. Caldwell’s office had sent him several letters about coming in for a meeting, but Xan had been putting it off. He was busy as hell between running the place, training clients, and getting in his own training with Reid. The last of his priorities was meeting with the pompous prick who more than likely wanted to raise his rent.
Reid handed him the jump rope and clicked his stopwatch as Xan started his rope routine. Caldwell was making his way toward him until one of the guys stopped him, indicating he couldn’t wear his shoes on the mats. Xan laughed under his breath and kept right on jumping.
“Mr. James,” he called out to Xander. “I need a minute of your time, please.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait another…” Xan looked at Reid.
Reid glanced at the stopwatch. “Three and a half minutes.”
Xan repeated it for Caldwell, adjusting it accordingly. “Three and a quarter minutes.” Then he nodded to the man who was still standing sentry at the edge of the mats. “Be a good lad and show Mr. Caldwell to my office, would you, Marcus?”
The man didn’t appear happy at being put off, but Xander didn’t particularly give a rat’s arse. He never cared much for Caldwell. Now, his niece on the other hand… She was a different story entirely. Sophie Caldwell owned the little pink bakery, Sophie’s Sweet Spot, nestled on the opposite corner of the block.
The first time he’d stopped in for a tea, he’d expected to see an older grandmotherly type behind the counter. Instead, there’d been a gorgeous, tattooed pinup girl who looked straight out of a comic book. Since then, the favorite part of his week was Sunday mornings when he popped in before his early morning runs. He also got a kick out of flirting with her through the windows as he walked past the bakery on his way to or from the gym. Not that she ever took him seriously, but they had a fun rapport that always brightened his day. And if she happened to star in a few of his late-night fantasies, who could blame him? The woman was sexier than she had a right to be, and he was merely a red-blooded male.
“Time,” Reid said, clicking the stopwatch. “You need more than five minutes?”
“Not if I can help it, mate.”
Xan dropped the rope to the floor and grabbed his water bottle, shooting a long stream into his mouth as he made his way toward the front. Caldwell stood in the sparsely furnished office looking decidedly uncomfortable. Closing the door behind him, Xander grabbed a T-shirt from the top of his gym bag and pulled it on as he rounded the utilitarian metal desk.
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the metal folding chairs.
The man glanced down at the seats and didn’t bother to mask his disgust. “I’ll stand, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” Xander shrugged and lowered himself into his chair. After checking to make sure all the new membership applications were neatly stacked and out of the way, he propped his feet up on the edge of the desk hoping it would further bother the pretentious wanker. By the curl of his upper lip, it appeared to do just that. Xan smirked. “What can I do for you, Mr. Caldwell?”
Reaching into the front pocket of his portfolio case, he pulled out a stapled stack of papers and set it on the desk. “Since you’ve ignored my previous attempts to meet, I’ve come to tell you that you have ninety days to vacate the premises.”
Xander shot upright, his feet slamming to the ground. He scanned the papers in his hands. A legal eviction notice based on the sale of the property. “What the fuck are you going on about? You’re selling? What’s the offer? I’ll counter.”
“That’s not possible, Mr. James. I own the entire square block and I’ve decided to sell it to a developer who wants to build a large-scale shopping mall. All I needed was seventy-five percent of tenants to agree to relocate, and I have that since you’re the only one who has been difficult.”
Xander mentally pictured the properties on the block. His gym was an old warehouse and probably took up 20 percent of the square footage, which meant he would only need one more person on his side who wanted to stay for Caldwell’s deal to fall through.
“What about Sophie?” From their chats over the last several months, he’d learned her grandma had started the cupcake business when Sophie was a baby and she’d inherited it. Anyone could see it wasn’t just a way to make a living; it was a way of life for her, her life’s passion. “I have a hard time believing she’d so willingly give up her bakery.”
Caldwell’s lips pulled to the sides, forming a poor semblance of a smile. “True enough, but unfortunately for my niece, the bakery—along with the other properties on this block—is held in a trust that I control until she turns thirty or marries. Since men would just as soon cuddle up to a cactus than marry my niece, the soonest she’d get her bakery is in five years, and I say we’re selling.”
Red bathed Xander’s vision. He slowly rose from his chair and braced his fists on the desk to lean toward the heartless fucker with deliberate malice painting his expression. “I don’t know what kind of man insults his own flesh and blood, much less a woman as amazing as your niece,” he said in a low voice, “but I guarantee if you utter anything like that again in my presence, you will regret it.”
Clearing his throat, Caldwell nervously adjusted the knot of his tie. “I just meant that—”
Xan slapped the surface of his desk and raised his voice. “I don’t give a shite what you meant. We’re done here. Get the fuck out before I have Marcus toss you out.”
He held himself in check long enough to watch the man spin on his heel and make a line straight for the exit. Fucking perfect. Like he had time for this bullshit. As if he didn’t have enough going on, he apparently had to find a new space for the gym, orchestrate a remodel, and move. He loved this location. The area had the perfect demographic; a good neighborhood without being too snooty or pretentious. Plus, his flat was only a block away, directly across the street from the bakery. Convenience like that was downright kismet, not to be taken lightly.
Fuck me. Taking a few deep breaths, Xander tried to clear his head. He wanted to march over to the bakery and confront Sophie, see what she had to say about all this. But he had a training session to finish and then client appointments that went well into the evening. Tomorrow was Sunday. He’d take the night to work on a plan of attack and talk to her about it in the morning. Then they’d get all this sorted.