“Tell me something about you, something I don’t already know,” she said, snuggled against him in the warm, bubbling water. His huge arm was around her, and she felt completely safe. Tired, satisfied, and safe.

 

“Did you know I was married?”

 

“Um, I heard a rumor,” she replied, not really ready to hear about that. “Was it back when you were in the Marines?”

 

“Yeah. Her name was Melanie. We kinda rushed into it and…things didn’t work out.”

 

“Your fault or hers?”

 

“Mine.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I wasn’t there enough.”

 

“Being overseas, you mean?”

 

“Partly,” he said. “But even when I was on leave, I couldn’t stand to be in one place for long. She just wanted to spend time with me, but I was always go, go, go. Day trips. Shooting. Fishing. Cycling. Running. She couldn’t keep up, I guess, but it just felt wrong to spend days at home doing nothing when I only had so much time left before I shipped out again. I crammed it all in, but in the process I guess I squeezed her out. It was shitty, really, when I look back. But I was not ready to settle down, and she didn’t know how to handle that.”

 

“So she took off?”

 

“Divorced me and took off for Miami. Last I heard she was starting a career in graphic art.”

 

“So why did you get married if you weren’t ready to settle down?”

 

“It was a heat of the moment thing—a leap before you look kind of deal. What can I say? Marines have more balls than brains. Most of the guys in my unit were in serious relationships. And Melanie was the prom queen. You can see where this is going. She had a similar thing, too, I reckon; something to brag about to her sisters and her friends. Having a Marine for a husband—not exactly something girls keep to themselves. I guess neither of us had thought it through. We both found that out the hard way.”

 

“Do you think it would have worked if she’d stuck around, if you’d both been together now?”

 

“I doubt it,” he answered. “We were too different. She was in love with the idea of me, couldn’t come to terms with the reality.”

 

“And you?”

 

“Me? Fuck if I know. I was a dumb little shit back then. Always competing. Always wanting my own way. If I met myself at that age, I’d want to kick my own ass all over L.A.”

 

“Aww. I bet you were cute. Cocky and cute as hell. I don’t blame Melanie; I’d have wanted to lasso you as well.”

 

“You’d have had a tough job getting the loop around my big-ass head. Trust me, I was a walking sack of ego.”

 

“I think all you guys are at that age. All you jocks. It’s what drives us wild.”

 

He kissed her on the cheek. “And what about you? I’m thinking…more of an artistic type. One of those vaguely hippy chicks who wears woolly cardigans and tight T-shirts and long, thin skirts. She reads poetry and only dabbles in sports. Not quite an emo, she can hang out with the nerds and the sports crowd, but steers clear of the IT girls. She secretly has the hots for a rich varsity guy, but would rather die than go talk to him. All the guys can see she has a cute face and a great rack, but the rich jocks know she’s working class, the nerds think she’s too hot to ever want to date one of them, which leaves the rebels lining up to cop a feel. Only she’s shy around boys. She’s made out with a few rebels, but she’s really been saving herself for Mr. Right.”

 

“Hmm. Go on,” she told him, ambivalent about hearing any more.

 

“Then along comes the toughest guy in the whole school. He fights for what he wants, and she loves that he’s singled her out when there are so many cheerleaders and sorority girls he could have made it with. It makes her feel special. And he’s hot. Angry hot. He knows what he wants, and he goes out to get it. Being around that kind of confidence makes her feel good. Like she’s on her way. He sweeps her off her feet, which leaves half the guys in the school kicking themselves for not getting in there first. She’s off the market now. Bit by bit, she forgets who she was in high school before he asked her out. She ties herself to his dreams and promises herself she’ll support him all the way. He’s really going places, he’s good at what he does, and there’s no telling how far he could take them.

 

“There’s just one snag. Somewhere along the way he forgets to hold up his end of the bargain. He forgets who he was in high school when he first asked her out, and he starts to take her for granted. He knows how special she is, but his career is on a relentless trajectory now, and he can’t stop to make sure she’s all right. Either she’s with him completely or she’s an impediment to his career, his lifestyle. The vaguely hippy chick doesn’t cut it anymore. He wants a fashion statement on his arm, and he wants her at his beck and call.

 

“Then one day, he goes too far and loses her for good. He doesn’t realize it at the time, but she’s remembered who she was before all this happened and she’s suddenly got a crush on another bad boy jock. The difference is: this new bad boy jock knows how special she is and he isn’t afraid to tell her every chance he gets. He wants to spend as much time with her as he can, to hell with what anyone else thinks. She starts to find herself again. She falls for him big time, worships him as a god of the arena, and becomes his sex slave, walking around naked for his personal enjoyment…”

 

Tiana grabbed him by the jaw, then put him in a headlock. “You think you know me, huh?”

 

“Um, maybe not.”

 

“You might have got the gist of my story, but you’ve left out the most important part,” she said.

 

“Oh? Why don’t you enlighten me?”

 

“Okay, here.” She cupped her breasts and held them teasingly in front of his face. “Ah, ah.” Tiana pressed a palm to his forehead, stopping him from leaning forward. “Repeat after me: she finds herself a sex slave, who does her bidding whenever she calls on him.”

 

He licked his lips, gazing into her cleavage. “She finds herself a sex slave, who does her bidding whenever she calls on him.”

 

“And he worships her as a goddess of the Jacuzzi.”

 

“And she worships him as a god of the arena.”

 

“Hey, that’s not—”

 

Before she could finish, he pulled off a deft position switch and had her right where he wanted her, spread-eagled in front of him. “Enough talk,” he said.

 

“Okay, but it won’t be silent.”

 

“Promise, Vaguely Hippy Chick?”

 

“Cross my heart, Jock.”

 

***

 

Dax’s agent’s mom had surprisingly good taste in skirts. Not that Tiana would have complained had that not been the case; her own pants and panties were dripping wet, so she’d have worn a granny skirt if necessary. Instead, this polka dot summer skirt, complete with a white belt, worked great. It wasn’t the vaguely hippy attire he’d imagined in his story; it was actually tasteful. Tiana even promised she’d buy one for herself at some point—it went well with her blouse. Not so much with the waistcoat.

 

Dax, though, had scaled a freaking castle to protect her honor. Okay, maybe not quite so knightly. He’d climbed the drainpipe in his wet boxers, up to the second floor, where he’d raided his agent’s mom’s closet. After grabbing some fresh clothes from his own bedroom—and remembering to change (important)—he’d made his way back down through the party carrying a towel. The man he’d posted to guard the back door, Sherwood, didn’t question Dax’s magical reappearance, but he did smile knowingly at Tiana when she re-entered the house with wet hair and a flustered look on her face.

 

“Thanks, Sherwood,” she said. “You’re a trouper.”

 

“Any time, miss. Can I get you anything?”

 

“An invisibility cloak, so I can get out of here without being seen.”

 

He chuckled then patted his pockets. “Damn, I misplaced that Hogwarts number. Would a magic ring work?”

 

“It might. Just for a minute, though, Sherwood.”

 

“Okay, hold on while I pull that outta my ass.”

 

She laughed. “Classy.”

 

“Sorry, miss. Couldn’t resist.”

 

“The name’s Tiana.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Too informal?” she asked.

 

He shrugged. “Most people at these things prefer ma’am or miss or sir. You know how it is.”

 

“Uh-huh. You can call me Tiana.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“That’s not breaking protocol or anything is it?”

 

“Nah. Dax’s the same way. He has us keep up appearances on formal occasions like this, but he can’t stand it really. He can’t stand putting on airs.”

 

“I figured,” Tiana replied. “So how long have you worked for him?”

 

“We met at the VA shortly after he got back from overseas. When I told him I used to teach kickboxing back in the day, he invited me along to one of his fights. Turned out he liked my advice, so he kept me around.”

 

“Did you ever do any fighting yourself?”

 

“Semi-pro when I was young, before I joined the Army.”

 

Tiana looked for Dax but couldn’t see him. “So how good is he, Sherwood?”

 

“Who? Dax?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The best fighter out there, by a mile. He’ll be World Champion, no question. There’s only one thing stopping him that I can see.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“He won’t play the game the way they like it to be played.”

 

“The IMMAF you mean?”

 

He nodded. “And the rest. There’s an army of promoters and media people out there who need to be fed. They want clicks on their websites and TV spots for their products and so on and so on. They want someone who’ll sell their crap. Our man, Dax, with all due respect, is the last guy you’d ask to shill for you. He’d just spit it back in your face. That’s why his agent has to be the most creative guy in town. He has to come up with ways to make Dax Easterling a celebrity sports icon—while Dax will go out of his way to avoid the spotlight. It’s ironic, isn’t it? How popular he’s becoming in spite of himself.”

 

Tiana wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Popular” was a relative term. Being famous didn’t necessarily make one popular. After all, nobody liked an asshole.

 

“Does he bring a lot of girls here?” she asked, immediately hating that she’d done so. Why was she trying to make him into an asshole? He’d done nothing to deserve it. On the contrary, he’d been exactly what she’d needed.

 

“That’s not my place to say.” Even Sherwood sounded disappointed by her question. “It’s his affair.”

 

“Sorry, Sherwood. I’m just…still trying to figure all this out.”

 

“’S okay, miss. Tiana.”

 

“Do you know where Dax is?”

 

“No. He said something had come up.” He looked around. “I could get someone to find out.”

 

“Oh, you don’t have to… I can have a look around,” she said.

 

“Dax told me not to leave you alone.”

 

“Oh? Why’s that?”

 

“Not sure,” he replied. “Maybe he doesn’t want you to disappear on him.” Sherwood’s cheeky wink made her feel more welcome here than a hundred rich guests had done since her arrival.

 

“So I’ll just stay with you, Sherwood.”

 

He rocked on his heels. “Man, if I’d heard that twenty years ago…”

 

“And didn’t have a wife,” she pointed out, having clocked his wedding band.

 

He laughed. “Busted.”

 

“Nah. She’s a lucky lady,” Tiana said. “So, let’s go look for Dax together. There are only so many places he could—”

 

Someone grabbed her by the arm. Hard. Before she could react, she was off her feet, being dragged across the floor.

 

“What the hell—get off me, Thad!”

 

Sherwood flew at him, but Thad was ready. He let go of Tiana. Sherwood lunged, but Thad used the ageing man’s momentum to throw him at the screen door. He went right through, shattering the glass. Screams erupted. Tiana couldn’t believe what had just happened. She was about to cry for help when Thad pulled her up and, despite her kicking and thrashing, slung her over his shoulder.

 

“Try to stop me and you’re next,” he threatened a heavy-set man who barred their way. It was then that she saw that Thad was holding a switchblade.

 

Oh Jesus!

 

She screamed for help but none came. The terrified partygoers made a path. Not that she could blame them, but someone had to do something. Where the hell was Dax? She called his name.

 

“Shut the fuck up!” Thad yelled at her.

 

She did.

 

He carried her outside at a jog. The last thing she saw of the party was two members of Dax’s ring team nursing Sherwood on the lawn outside.

 

“God help you if he dies,” she said.

 

Thad didn’t answer. He even managed to up his pace when he reached the driveway. His car, a white Pontiac Firebird, was blocking the way out. The uniformed parking attendant lay unconscious on the grass.

 

“What have you done?”

 

“Your fault. This is all your fault. I told you what would happen.”

 

She struggled again when he tried to bundle her into the car, but he was just too strong. There was nothing she could do or say while he was like this. Best to just play along and pick her battles if and when the opportunities arose. What she needed was a weapon of some kind. Would there be one where he was taking her? Would she be able to get it without him knowing?

 

He floored the gas, kicking up gravel.

 

Where are you, Dax?

 

Tiana glanced in the rearview mirror. The driveway was already filling with people by the time the car passed through the front gates. Was Dax one of them? Would he try to pursue?

 

“Your hair’s wet,” Thad pointed out whilst speeding round a hairpin bend. “And you were wearing pants at the fight, not a skirt. So where did you screw him? In the shower?”

 

“I won’t dignify that with an answer.”

 

“You’ll tell me sooner or later. I guarantee that.”

 

“Why’s it so important, Thad? Seriously. You said we were through.”

 

“Not so you could give it up for him.” He slammed his fist on the horn. It made her jump. “You just don’t get it, do you?” he said. “Dax Easterling was off-limits. Anyone decent would have known that. You could have done the decent thing and not fucked my enemy, but no, you had to get your revenge. Well, guess what? Revenge has a habit of coming back around.”

 

“What are you gonna do?”

 

He said nothing.

 

“Thad, we can settle this whole thing. I didn’t know it meant that much to you who I dated. We can talk it over. I swear I’ll never see Dax Easterling again if it means that much to you. This doesn’t have to go any further. There’s still time to make things right. I can still make things right between us.”

 

“Enough talking,” he replied. “You always did talk too much.”

 

All the worst scenarios her mind had concocted while she’d been alone in the bathroom that morning—her cases outside the door, agonizingly out of reach—came flooding back. Only this time he’d thought it through, whatever he had in store for her. He’d watched her, or had her watched, at the fight tonight. And now he was about to carry out his revenge.

 

Jesus. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? He’d threatened her not to go to the cops, but would that have been any worse than this, than what he was about to do? Twice in her life she should have reported him. Twice in her life fear had gotten the best of her. She would probably not get a third chance.

 

Oh Dax, I’m so sorry. I should have never let this happen. I blew it.