The Fight (A Standalone Novel) (MMA Bad Boy Romance) Read online

  I shoved past the man in the suit. "You can keep your theories to yourself, and your threats. Fenton's not going to do what you say. You can't threaten him."

  "You're right," he said. "Threats don't work against a man like Fenton Morris. So, what we need is good old-fashioned leverage. And, you know what makes the best leverage?"

  I marched towards the yellow cab, but the man in black stopped me. "You're not going to find any dirt on Fenton. You don't have any leverage."

  I looked up and the tall man's brown eyes flashed with an apology. He yanked the black duffel bag from my hand easily and wrapped his other arm around my shoulders. I was forced towards the black town car.

  "Don't be looking to him for help," the man in the suit said. "My muscle here doesn't appreciate being flirted with and used. You just smiled at him to make Fenton mad. He's a nice guy, but that's gotta hurt. Now, get in the car before he has to hurt you."

  "Wait, what are you doing?" I asked.

  "I told you – leverage. Fenton will do exactly what we asked him to do because if he doesn't, he won't ever see you again."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Fenton

  I woke up when the melted ice slipped off my ribs and hit the floor. The bruise was survivable and I was annoyed I had let myself give in to it even for a minute. Maybe Kya had slipped me a sleeping pill along with the aspirin. It had nothing to do with the relief I felt at seeing her safe back in her hotel room.

  The crazy girl had showed up at a bare-knuckle boxing match to tell me she had followed the criminals blackmailing me. I sat up and shook my head. No wonder I could not relax until she was behind locked doors. I could imagine her following the two thugs into the boxing match. She must have stuck out like real gold in a sea of rhinestones.

  I got up and went towards the master bedroom. Our whole conversation had been foggy, but I remembered her saying one thing – it was me, not my business, she was interested in. The thought smoldered, and I had to hear her say it again. I needed her lips on mine.

  The room was dark, but it was easy to see the snow-white duvet was undisturbed. I forgot about my stiff muscles and marched through the entire suite. Kya was gone.

  I rushed back out to the living room and stopped cold. The white card from my private gym was gone. A smile cracked my split lip, but I grimaced more at Kya than the pain. She did not know that I wanted her safe more than I wanted my stuff. I worried that I had missed a call from my sister, but Dana Maria was tough – tougher than me. And, she had not accidentally flirted with the very criminals set on making me lose my next fight.

  I racked my brain for the private gym's address and told the first cabbie I could find. He drove me there without a word. The concierge frowned at my appearance, but recognized me and let me in without hesitation.

  "Was a woman here? About 5'5", coppery hair," I swept my hands over the curved outline of Kya's body.

  "Yes. About a half an hour ago. She collected your things and left. She had your card. I thought you sent her. I'm so sorry, Mr. Morris," the concierge said.

  "No, don't worry. You did the right thing. It's just she hasn't come back yet. Did you see her get in a cab?" I asked. Rising panic throttled my throat.

  "I would have called her a cab, sir. She left before I could. Then, her friends picked her up."

  "Her friends?" I asked. I lunged across the white desk and caught the already redfaced concierge by the collar. "What friends?"

  "In a black town car. I don't know. A man in a suit and his driver. Some tall guy in black pants and a black shirt," he choked out.

  "She went with them willingly?" I asked.

  "I couldn't tell, sir. Wait, do you think they took her? I stood here and watched her get kidnapped?" Tears sprung to his eyes, and I realized the concierge was just a young man, maybe not even twenty-two.

  "It's fine, you're fine. Don't say a word." I released him and he crumpled onto the desk. "You hear me? Everything is fine and you are not going to say a word."

  "But, sir…"

  "I'm serious. I know where she is, and you can bet your ass I'm going to get her back," I said.

  I turned to the door and swore. My cab had left.

  "Take my car," the young man said. "Black Mustang out back. Looks like junk, but she drives fast."

  I grabbed the car keys he held up and raced out the back door. The black Mustang roared to life and I tore through the back streets of Vegas. I turned the lights off and coasted along when I reached the other boxing gym. I was sure the owner knew the men trying to fix my fight. If he didn't know where they took Kya, the least he would know was how to contact them. I parked the car out of sight and rolled up my sleeves as I marched to the door.

  The gym owner had the misfortune of walking out right as I charged in. I grabbed him by his shirtfront and slammed him against the plate glass window.

  "Where is she? What have they done to her?" I asked.

  "Nothing, I don't know. I mean, they won't do anything to her. She's leverage, right? If you lose the fight like they ask, then she'll be fine." He held up both hands and I saw them tremble.

  I let go of his shirt with one hand, intended to pound more information out of him, but my phone rang. "Hello?"

  "Mr. Morris, I don't think I've ever formally introduced myself. My name is Mr. Winchester."

  I recognized the sly voice of the man in the suit. "What have you done with Kya? I better hear her voice in the next ten seconds," I said.

  "Fenton? I'm sorry. I was just trying to do something nice for you, get your phone," Kya said.

  "Did they hurt you? Where are you?" I asked.

  "I'm fine, I'll be fine. Just stay away. Win your fight. They're not going to do anything to me," she said.

  I clenched my fist and punched a hole in the wall near the terrified gym owner's head. "I can't let anything happen to you."

  "Then, lose the fight, Mr. Morris. It is as simple as that," Mr. Winchester said. The line went dead.

  I turned back to the gym owner and his eyes rolled back as I tightened my grip on his shirt. "Where are they?"

  "I don't know. I don't know what's going on," he whimpered.

  Realization swept over me, and the alarmed ringing in my ears stopped. "Yes, you do. You knew they took her. I did not even have to explain what I meant. You knew they took her and planned to hold her for leverage. Tell me where they are and I won't flatten your skull."

  "I don't know. I don't want anything to do with them. They've got leverage over me, too, man. They know where my kids go to school."

  I watched his eyes and saw them dart back and forth between me and a scuffed door near the back of the gym. I dropped him and headed towards the door. I kept my steps light. When I cracked open the door and saw the staircase leading down, it confirmed what I thought– there was a basement and somewhere down there, they were holding Kya.

  One look was all it took to silence the gym owner. He nodded and went to the door, opened it and closed it. From downstairs it would sound as if I had left. He then shuffled back to his office, slammed the door, and locked it.

  I took the steps one at a time. Easing my weight onto each one stopped them from creaking. Downstairs, I could hear voices.

  "This is not what I signed up for."

  "Stop complaining, Toby. You can have the girl if the fighter doesn't lose."

  "Don't be disgusting, Winchester."

  "Oh, come on, you were so happy when she hit on you at the bar. Doesn't it bother you she just did it to make Fenton Morris jealous?"

  I saw Winchester's shiny suit. The tall man in black, Toby, leaned on the far wall with his chiseled arms crossed. Kya sat on a stack of gym mats, her wrists tied together, a bandana tied into her mouth.

  "She was just using you," Winchester continued. "And, that's all we're doing. The fighter loses, we collect a fortune on the spread, and she goes free."

  "And, what happens if she goes straight for the police?" Toby asked. "I didn't sign up to do time for kidnapping."


  I ducked as Toby's brown eyes swept up the stairs near where I crouched. He stood up and faced his boss. "I'm thinking I should just walk out of here right now."

  "Don't be stupid. I mean, you are stupid, but try a little harder. I know you're not a kidnapper and you've got a soft spot for the pretty lady there. If you take a step up those stairs, I can't promise I won't get to know her a lot better."

  Bile rose up in my throat. I was going to kill Winchester. Across the room, Toby felt the same, but did not move. The two men faced off. Behind them, I saw Kya slip out of her restraints. She leapt down from the stack of gym mats and ran for the stairs.

  As Toby swept her up in his arms, I took my chance. I lunged out from the stairs and clocked Winchester hard as he turned towards me. His expression of anger turned into a snarl.

  "Fenton, no! He's got a gun!" Kya struggled hard against Toby. He swung her out of the way and kept her safe as Winchester took aim at me.

  "Tie her up again, Toby. Get over here and help me. Our friend needs a little more convincing," Winchester instructed.

  Toby did not move. When Winchester glanced at him, I pounced. One hard kick to his hand dropped the gun to the ground. My momentum carried through and brought a lethal punch to his jaw. He dropped to the cement floor and laid still.

  Toby picked up the gun and tucked it in his belt. Then, he let Kya go.

  "Thank you," she said to him.

  She ran to me and jumped into my arms. I refused to let her go and carried her upstairs. Even as I drove the Mustang back, I could not let go of her hand.

  The early morning light was gray and the Tropicana strangely deserted. We walked in the front doors and into an elevator without seeing another soul. Neither of us said a word until the suite door locked behind us.

  "I was just trying to do you a favor. I'm so sorry," Kya said.

  I stopped her with a kiss and my lips did not stop there. I devoured her, starving for her against me. We stumbled across the living room. She wrapped her arms around my neck, opened her mouth to my plunging kisses, and we did not make it farther than the floor in front of fireplace.

  I lowered her gently to the ground, our lips never parting. She tangled her hands in my hair and arched against me, as though needing to be as close as possible. Her dress slipped up her body and over her head. I ripped off my sweatshirt and shirt. Coming back against her bare skin ignited my whole body.

  She whispered into my kisses, her lips wet against me, "I just want you, Fenton. Please."

  I lowered myself into her, the wet, tight heat of her pulling all the air out of my lungs. I panted against the slope of her neck, buried deep in the incredible sweetness of her. Then, she wrapped her legs around my waist and started a rhythm against me that I had to answer. Our lips found each other again and we caught each other's cries of pleasure as our bodies crested. I poured into Kya, falling deeper into her than I ever thought possible.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Kya

  Shocked by Fenton's lips against mine, I pushed my hands up over the hard ridges of his chest. The taut friction of his muscles under my fingertips parted my lips in awe. He took opportunity of the opening to plunge deeper into the kiss. I slid my hands up and gripped the hard ridge of his shoulders as his hands slid around my back and locked me against him. Every chiseled contour of his body fit my curves and I melted against him.

  Fenton kissed me with an insatiable hunger. I was starved for his lips on mine, our bodies shifting and fitting closer together. All of the threats and the terror were nothing compared to being apart from him. I curled my body closer and opened myself further to his devouring kisses.

  His hands pressed my shoulders to his chest then slid down to the curve of my back. I arched against him as he leaned to taste more from my moaning lips. When his wide hands pulled me up against him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on. Fenton strode across the living room, his lips so intent on mine that my head spun. I was glad for the solid strength of him, the locked muscles of his arms wrapping me close. Too dizzy to know anything but him, I wrapped my legs around his hips.

  Fenton moaned as I pressed close to him. He moved his hands down farther, one iron arm supporting me while his other hand caressed the bottom of my thigh. The trace of his fingers left a shiver of electricity that lit up my senses. The jolt of it rocked me against him and his kisses slowed as his breath grew heavy.

  I opened my eyes as he lowered me to the soft rug in front of the fireplace. His eyes burned like blue flames as he gently cradled my head and settled on top of me. Then, his eyes dropped back to my lips and he groaned, still hungering for more. I tangled my hands in his black hair, answering every twist and taste with my own cries of pleasure.

  My dress had already fallen up to my waist, but I tugged to bring it higher. Fenton's hands followed and slipped underneath the hem, pushing back the light fabric as he explored higher to the curve of my hip. His hands against my bare skin ignited my whole body.

  "Please, Fenton, I want you. Just you," I whispered through wet kisses. I tugged his shirt up and over his head before our lips found each other again.

  He answered by rearing back onto his knees and pulling me up against him. His hands swept up the sides of my body under my dress and pulled it off over my head in one easy sweep. As I fumbled with his belt and buttons, he unclasped my bra. He caught my breasts in eager hands, his thumbs brushing over my nipples in a sheer caress that caused a lightning flash of desire.

  I lie back on the lush rug and let him trail kisses down my leg as he tugged my panties free. Fenton then pulled himself up over me, the virile ridges of his muscles skimming my curves. I opened myself to him, pulling him down for a kiss. When he lowered himself into my wet, tight heat, the air flooded out of his lungs in one long guttural groan. He panted against the slope of my neck, buried deep.

  One shift from him and I cried out at how he pressed so perfectly into the throbbing center of my pleasure, spurring me to wrap my legs around his waist and start a rhythm he had to answer. His breath was still ragged as his lips sought mine again. I smiled against his sweet kisses and he caught my cries of pleasure as our bodies crested together. He poured into me, touching me deeper than I knew as possible.

  When we could breathe again, Fenton sighed. "Why did you go after those men? I need you safe. I need you right here."

  I ran my fingers through his hair and down the strong stretch of his back. He rolled on his side and tucked me against him, his eyes still questioning me.

  "I didn't think about being safe," I said. "I'm not used to having other people worry about me."

  "What about your parents? I imagine the Allens would not approve of their daughter chasing thugs across Las Vegas," he said. He cradled my head in the crook of his arm and combed my hair out across the rug.

  "I've been on my own since I was eighteen. They died just before I went to college," I told him.

  Fenton stopped his caresses and leaned down to kiss me. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

  "I'm just used to taking care of myself," I said. "How about you? Does the Morris family keep close tabs on you? Or do you call every Sunday like the dutiful son."

  He chuckled as he reached for his pants and got up. "Speaking of Sundays, I could eat an entire Sunday dinner right about now. Do you suppose the kitchen is stocked in this place?"

  I sat up and shielded myself behind the sofa. He was opening and closing cabinets, comfortable in his state of half-dress. I skipped the bra and settled for tugging my dress back over my head. I still felt the shockwaves of my orgasm as I tugged on my panties and joined him in the kitchen.

  "You look like you could use a drink," he said with a wink. He pulled out a bottle of champagne and a pitcher of fresh orange juice. "Looks like that chef left you fully stocked, even though he disapproved of the company you keep."

  "I don't mind your company – if you can do something good with those eggs. I'm starving," I said.

  Fenton laughed an
d handed me a mimosa. "Lucky for both of us, I make a mean omelet."

  I leaned on the counter and the neckline of my dress dropped open. His eyes tripped over me and his breath caught. I felt my cheeks get hot, and I stood up and laughed. After what we had just done not twenty feet away, it was ridiculous to still feel shy.

  "I like this new look on you, Ms. Allen," he said. "It might suit you more than the whole buttoned-up thing you've been working."

  I ruffled my hair and shot him a look, happy when he fumbled the spatula he was holding. "I don't know, this time last year, I was in Palm Springs at a golf tournament. Five star everything without the gambling. Not too shabby."

  "Did you have any fun?"

  "No," I slid onto a stool to watch him cook. "My job was to secure another five-year contract with a long-time client. All he wanted was a steak dinner. It was three days of sweltering temperatures outside and long conversations about golf."

  "I think Vegas is agreeing with you more than you'd like to admit," Fenton said.

  I rolled my eyes. "In Vegas, I've been a half-inch away from a disaster the entire time."

  He slipped a perfect omelet onto a plate and slid it towards me. "Only if you count getting blackout drunk at a nightclub party, waking up in a strange man's bed, upgrading yourself to a high-roller's suite, and then following a pair of gangsters that turn around and kidnap you."

  I took a bite of the omelet and almost forgave Fenton for the twinkle of amusement in his blue eyes. "Don't forget, I also picked up your duffel bag for you."

  "After you crashed a bare-knuckles underground fight."

  "I think you mean 'thank you,'" I tipped my head and gave him a pointed look.

  He laughed again, an eruption of sound that made my stomach flutter. "You're right. Thank you."

  He finished his breakfast in big bites and went to the door to retrieve the black duffel bag. I tried not to watch as he fished out his phone and scrolled through the messages. One he read made him pause and then he quickly texted a response.