I looked over the books, wanting to pick on Travis about his little ass writing as he had tallied up our monthly numbers. Travis was a damn good man to do the books, mainly because they were boring as hell and most of us would rather be in the cage than looking at some damn numbers. Travis had overcome his own demons to get back in the cage, but he still liked to do the numbers. Right now, though, he was busy with a new baby.

“Profits are up,” I finally said to the men sitting around the table in our conference room above the gym. “More memberships this month and good returns on the training fees.”

“Not to mention the sponsorships,” Tony said as he leaned back in the leather chair. “And your upcoming fight. When you win, everyone will want to be trained by a champion.”

I ignored the weight of the title on my shoulders, giving him a grin instead. “Well, we can’t all be winners.”

Chuckles went up around the room as I looked down again at the bottom line, glad to see that we were that much into the positive. This title match was likely going to be my last fight, no matter the outcome. I wanted to expand the gym, add more cages and a few more younger fighters for training. Even though we all cared to ignore it, we weren’t the up and coming anymore. In a few years, our names wouldn’t mean shit in the MMA world.

“Hey Benji,” Tony said after a moment. “We are all proud of you being a father and all and want to do something for you. The girls, they want to throw you a baby shower.”

“A what?” I laughed, shaking my head. “Who’s ever heard of a man’s baby shower?”

“I haven’t,” Travis said with a grin. “But they are all excited about it, so you ain’t got much of a choice dude.”

I thought about the formidable women behind all the guys in the room and held up my hands. “Hey, I don’t want a bunch of women mad at me. If they want to throw a party, then by all means.” What I wasn’t going to tell them is how much that meant to me. These guys, they were my family, and I would do anything for them. “Meeting adjourned.”

The guys filed out of the room as I sat back in the chair, my arms behind my head. It had been a hard decision to not continue fighting after this match, but now that Amelia was in the picture, I couldn’t afford to be hurt or worse. She was depending on me to be there for her, and the last thing I needed to be doing was putting my life in danger just for a quick buck. No, I was hanging up my gloves and turning this gym, my first baby, into a mega empire. Truthfully, my heart had been leaning over to this gym for months now, wanting to make it into something that could be handed down through not only my generation but the guys as well. Every guy had bought into this place with their own hard earned money and a dream, a dream that had slowly become a reality. I wasn’t about to give in, no matter what the money looked like.

But right now, I had some other things to consider, like my relationship with Danielle. I had been blown away by her confession. She had attempted to get that white picket fence life, the one that would have kept her from becoming a cop and crossing paths with me. But she had suffered great loss, and I had inserted my foot in my mouth finding out about it. If it hadn’t been for my perfect daughter, who had decided to stay up all night long, I would have made the entire thing up to Danielle all night long. Instead, I had woke up with a toddler in my side and a cold shower this morning.

With a growl I stood, walking out of the conference room and down the stairs. The gym was abuzz with activity, every cage filled with fighters wanting to break out into the mainstream. Warrior Zone had become a hot commodity, which is why I wouldn’t want to do this anywhere else.

“Benji Lomns, you are looking too good for your own good.”

“Angela,” I said, giving a nod to the redhead. “I hope your camera agrees with you.”

Angela Crosser was the baddest photographer on the planet, known for her action shots. I had come across her years ago at a MMA convention, and since then, she had always been my go-to person when it came to damn good pictures. She walked over to me, placing one blue tipped nail on my chest, a smirk on her face. “Honey, the camera loves you. Now get naked for me and show me what you got.”

I gave her a wink as I stripped my shirt over my head, stepping out of my shoes in the process. “Wouldn’t you like for me to do exactly what you said.”

She laughed as I walked into the cage, where Joey waited for my appearance. “We really gonna do this?” he asked as I rolled my shoulders. I felt naked without my gloves, but all Angela wanted for the posters was my body, not my fighting style. Joey was standing in for the opponent, giving me someone to focus on since the promoters didn’t want to take the chance of putting the two fighters close together before the match. “Yeah,” I answered him. “I can picture his face now.”

“Shit man just don’t accidentally hit me.”

Angela walked over, her eyes grazing my body appreciatively. “Looking good Lomns. I wouldn’t mind having a round with you myself.”

I grinned as she positioned me like she wanted me, allowing her to touch my body but feeling nothing in return. There had been a time that I would have enjoyed the attention, but after last night, there was only one woman on my mind. I could see it in Danielle’s eyes that she couldn’t believe that I was willing to wait. Hell, I couldn’t either. I had gone to bed that night with the most painful hard on known to man, but it had been worth it. Would I have waited if she hadn’t told me the story? Probably not, but her story, her pain was a game changer for me. I wanted to give her what she had been missing. I wanted to share Amelia with her, let her live through another little girl. I wanted to make that pain go away to where there was nothing but memories remaining. The thing was, I wasn’t so sure why I wanted to do all that. I had this need to protect her, to give her something different.

In less than twenty minutes, Angela was done with me, and I was allowed to put my shirt back on, walking out of the cage and down the stairs. “So,” she said as she packed up her gear. “Can I buy you a drink?”

I shoved my feet in my shoes. “I would love to, but I have an appointment to keep. Maybe another time?”

“Sure,” she said as I walked off, climbing into my car. I hadn’t lied to her. I did have an appointment. I drove to the courthouse, finding a parking spot and grabbing the paperwork in the front passenger seat. I walked into the building and to the receptionist. I was going to make this official. I was going to file my guardianship with the state for Amelia.

* * *

After picking up Amelia, I swung by and filled out the paperwork with a squirming toddler in my arms, hoping that my information was legible enough to know what I was talking about. Why I had thought it would be easier to pick her up first was beyond me, but I had learned a valuable lesson during that short timeframe: pick the kid up last. I grabbed some food on the way home and got us to the apartment, nearly tripping over a box that was set right against the door. I pushed it aside with my foot as I opened up the door and put Amelia down, allowing her to toddle across the hardwood floors before I picked up the box. It was addressed to me, the return address the police department. Puzzled, I brought the box inside and after a quick check on Amelia, I slit it open with my key, reaching inside to pull out a purse and stuffed bear, along with a zip lock bag full of odds and ends. I set the stuff on the counter and picked up the stuffed animal, one that looked well loved. Amelia grabbed my leg and started to make noises, her arms reaching up to me.

“Is this yours?” I asked, bending down to her level and handing her the bear. Instantly she hugged it to her little body, a look of delight on her face. It was hers. So this had to be her mom’s stuff.

Amelia stumbled off again, the bear in her hands as I picked up the purse, taking in a deep breath. I shouldn’t be rifling through a dead woman’s stuff like this, but I was curious to know who Amelia’s mom was truly. I had no recollection of her based on the picture I had been shown that night at the police station and felt kind of bad that I didn’t remember her. She had birthed that beautiful child of mine who was currently sitting in the middle of the floor, talking to her beloved bear.

Heaving a sigh, I reached in and pulled out her wallet, seeing a few cards with her name printed on it. There was some money in the wallet, just a few bucks and a few receipts, dated the day of the car accident. I rifled through them, seeing nothing of excitement, just a normal day that we all would take for granted. What had her final day been like? Had she kissed Amelia more than normal, had that sixth sense that something wasn’t quite right? I hoped so.

Opening the other side of the wallet, I found a few gift cards and some reminder appointment cards, none in Amelia’s name. I set the wallet down on the counter, and reached into the purse once more, finding the basic women stuff: hair ties, a brush, some sunglasses, and a blank scratch pad. There was an envelope, and as I pulled it out, photos spilled over the counter. Amelia’s face grinned up at me, in the arms of her mother. Some were just Amelia by herself, dressed in one of those frilly outfits that Hannah had stated the child must have. They all looked professionally done. I set them aside as well, glad that Amelia would have something to remember her mom by.

Picking up the wallet, I looked at the driver’s license again. Maybe I should go to the address, see if anyone knew Amelia and Marcie. It would only be the right thing to do.