“This isn’t so bad. I must be in good shape.”
I look over at Cheryl, sweating it out beside me on the treadmill. After Joe’s health scare, I convinced both of them to give the gym a try. Joe lasted one night and called it quits, but Cheryl shows up every now and again, ostensibly so I can help her work out, but in reality to ogle the men.
“This is a warm-up.” I walk beside her at a doctor-mandated “light exercise” pace.
“Maybe for you,” Cheryl huffs. “But any faster and they’d be peeling me off the mat. Plus, how would I be able to appreciate the view if sweat was dripping down my face? I need a clear field of vision.”
“Who’s replacing me at work tonight?” When the gym closes at nine p.m., Cheryl is heading out for what was supposed to be our ten p.m. to five a.m. shift.
“Sol.” She sighs. “I’m going to have to spend another shift slapping his hands away from my ass. He’s just back from a one-month suspension for sexually harassing the female security team over at building three. I heard he was really angry at Symbian, even though all he got was a slap on the wrist. Apparently, he wants to sue them for five million dollars. He’s a nasty piece of work.”
“What about your complaint?” I wave to Rampage and Blade Saw as they head toward the door. Ten minutes before closing, the gym is nearly empty. Cheryl and I are the only people on the cardio equipment, and there are a few stragglers over at the free weights.
“It was lumped in with the others. Apparently, my ass wasn’t special.”
“I wish he’d grab my ass.” I increase my speed another notch. My heart’s not even beating hard, and after last night’s kiss with Zack, I am desperate to burn off some of my tension. “I’m just dying for an excuse. Last time I worked with him, he told me MMA is a man’s sport, and if he was in charge, he’d make all the female fighters wrestle naked in a mud pit. One of these days, I’d like to get him alone and show him just how hard I can punch.”
“I kinda wish for that, too,” Cheryl says. “It would be something to see.” She slows her treadmill down to a very slow walk. “You know something else I’d like to see? The hunk of manliness who came to see you at work the other day. You said he was an ex. What’s going on with him?”
“Nothing.” Just talking about Zack makes me feel overwhelmed by feelings I don’t want to have, longings I thought were buried so deep, they would never resurface. How can I move forward when the past keeps dragging me back?
“Yeah? Well, it didn’t look like nothing to me.” She pats her brow with a white towel, and it comes away with a slight rose tinge. Every week, she tries a new look, and this week, she has dyed her hair hot pink. “After four husbands, I know all about ex relations.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That dude was sex on a stick, and he wants you bad. Who drives out to a industrial estate just to check a bump on your head?”
“He hurt me, Cheryl. Badly. He tore out my heart and stomped it on the ground. I never got over it.” I force myself to keep to the slow pace, mindful of the doctor’s advice. At least I’m feeling a bit warmer. Or is it thinking about Zack that has heated my blood?
“What did he do?”
I tell Cheryl about my past with Zack right through to our night in the cheap hotel and my decision to move to New York. Cheryl knows about my life as a ballerina and that I moved to San Francisco after an accident that ended my career. She also knows that I was married, although not how it ended. “I didn’t see or hear from him again until he walked into Redemption,” I tell her as our feet thud on our respective treadmills. “He told me he did it for me, so I could live my dreams without him holding me back. But it was my choice, and he took it away from me. I can’t forgive him for that.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs. “Sounds to me like his intentions were good but his execution was poor. He was trying to do the right thing.”
“Poor doesn’t even come close to how I felt that night. And it was the wrong thing. Totally wrong. It took me down a path that ended my career.”
“But now you’re a fighting machine.” She wheezes between words and stabs at the control panel to lower the speed.
“A broken fighting machine. Things aren’t going so well. I’ve hit a plateau.”
“Maybe he can help you.” She slows to a walk. “He owes you, and if he used to be such a big star—”
“I can’t.” My feet thud on the treadmill, and I feel the first bead of sweat on my forehead. “Last night he kissed me, and it was just wrong. I can’t risk falling for him again. I can’t forgive him.”
Cheryl’s treadmill finally stops, and she bends over, holding her knees as she gasps for breath. “I never knew you had so much anger eating you up inside.”
“I never thought of myself as angry.” I felt sad and despondent. I grieved his loss. But I never felt real anger until he walked back into my life and made me question the choices I’d made in New York. “At least, I wasn’t angry before. But maybe I am a bit now. I’m angry at myself for not fighting for what I wanted. I just accepted that the relationship should end because he wanted it. I moved away, and then I married the first man who was kind and showed an interest in me, because I was young and scared and alone, and I wanted someone to take care of me.”
“I got married too young,” Cheryl says. “I was only seventeen the first time. I thought I was in love, but I didn’t know what love was.”
“I thought I knew what love was, and then I realized I was wrong.” I grab my water bottle from the holder and take a long, cool drink. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I was pretty hard on him last night. I’m sure he’s given up and jumped on a plane by now.”
“I think he’ll be back.” She stands and grabs her towel, patting her face down.
“How do you know?”
She grins and lifts her chin in the direction of the door. “Because he’s heading this way.”
I look up and almost fall off the treadmill. Zack is stalking toward me, and he doesn’t look happy.
“You were supposed to rest,” he growls, stopping in front of my machine. “This does not look restful.”
“You remember Cheryl from Symbian.” I gesture at a grinning Cheryl to deflect his anger.
Zack gives her a curt nod and then scowls at me. “Get down. Now. I’m taking you home.”
“The doctor said light exercise. I’m barely moving. And I think you’re confusing me with someone who has to do your bidding.”
“Actually, you’re doing four times the speed I was doing,” an unhelpful Cheryl says. “And you’re sweating. Profusely. Isn’t that dangerous after you bump your head?”
“Don’t you have to be at work in an hour?” I shoot her what I hope is a death stare, but it just makes her laugh.
“I do.” She sighs. “As much as I would like to stay and watch the fireworks, I’d better get going. But I will expect a full briefing when you’re back at work.”
Zack waits until Cheryl is out of earshot before he starts in on me again. “A few days wouldn’t have killed you.”
“Yes, it would have. I’m already on a downhill slide. I can’t let my fitness level slip.” I increase the speed on the treadmill just to show him he has no hold over me. “If you’re done chastising me for nothing, I have a run to finish.”
“I need to talk to you.” He folds his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge from beneath the sleeves of his MEFC T-shirt, and I try not to drool.
“Maybe tomorrow. I can fit you in after my marathon and before I climb Mount Everest.”
“Now.” He reaches over and hits the emergency stop on the treadmill.
“Hey. What are you doing?” I glare at him as the machine slows to a stop. “I was just warming up.”
“You’ll mess up your system if you do cardio in the evening. You won’t be able to sleep. If you don’t sleep, your muscles don’t repair themselves. If your muscles don’t get repaired, you risk injury. Injury means you’re out of the game. Maybe for good.”
“This was Stan’s idea.” I push the start button. “He’s a professional. He knows more about these things than you.”
Wham. Zack stops the treadmill again. “No one knows more about these things than me. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
“Yo! Shilla!” Blade Saw shouts from the doorway. “Sadist and I are going for a drink. You two are the only ones left in the gym. Lock up when you’re done.” He tosses the keys to me, but Zack intercepts and snatches them out of the air.
“Give me the keys.”
“We need to talk.” He nods to Sadist and Blade Saw as they head out the door. “But not here.”
“Why not here? We’re alone.”
“I want to show you something.” He holds out his hand, and although I know I shouldn’t take it, I do. Warm and firm, his hand envelops mine, holding it tight as he helps me off the treadmill.
Zack leads me through the gym to Torment’s office. Lights flicker on as we walk, thanks to Redemption’s new energy-saving light system. We stop in front of the glass door leading to Torment’s office, and I peer inside. Torment isn’t sitting in his leather chair behind his huge cherrywood desk, glaring at people through the glass wall of the office we are forbidden to enter on pain of death.
“If you were looking for Torment, he doesn’t appear to be here,” I point out unnecessarily.
Apparently, that isn’t a concern for Zack. He tries keys until the lock on Torment’s door clicks open, and then he steps into Torment’s office. The nifty motion-activated lights go on.
I hold my breath and wait for the apocalypse.
It doesn’t come.
“You may not be aware, but this is Torment’s office.” Safely positioned in the hallway, I point to the nameplate on the door. “No one goes into his office when he’s here, much less when he’s away. He’s killed men for less.”
“I’ve never been one for following the rules.” Zack leans on Torment’s desk and toys with Torment’s pens.
“I feel a bit faint.” I take a step back. “I think I might go outside and get some air.”
“You are looking kinda pale.” Zack gestures to the leather chair in front of Torment’s desk. “Have a seat.”
I shake my head and lean against the doorframe instead. “What’s this all about?”
“What do you see?” He lifts his chin toward the wall where Torment has mounted pictures of all the fighters in the gym who have won title belts or gone pro. I know them all, because I’ve been at Redemption since it was just a warehouse with a makeshift ring and two guys with a dream.
“Success. Winners. Professional fighters.” I shrug. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“Men,” Zack says. “They are all men. How many female Redemption fighters have won title belts or gone pro in the time you’ve been here?”
“None. But it’s not Torment’s fault. There just aren’t that many women interested in fighting at that level.”
“But you are,” he counters.
My pulse kicks up a notch. “I was. But you’ve seen my stats. Things have been going downhill in a big way.”
“I can get you on that wall,” he says. “I can help you achieve your dream.”
Puzzled, I frown. “What are you saying?”
“I can train you, Shay. I can be your coach.”
My mouth keeps moving as my brain struggles to process what he just said. “I have a coach. Two coaches. Torment and Fuzzy. And Stan is my trainer. I’ve been with them since the beginning. Starting all over again…with you…it’s too big a risk.”
“What you want is on the other side of your fear,” Zack says. “They got you to where you are, but they can’t get you where you want to go. You are fighting at a new level now. This is where fighters make it or break it. With all due respect to Torment and Fuzzy, they don’t know anything about fighting professionally. That’s why you’ve plateaued.”
I snort a laugh. “Are you serious? Torment doesn’t know anything about fighting? He is probably the greatest fighter in the country. He is still the official holder of the underground title belt. Underground, Zack.” I emphasize the word. “No rules. No laws. No protection. No mercy. The only time he was ever knocked down was when Misery hit him over the head with a pair of brass knuckles and tried to kill him, and that didn’t count as a defeat.”
“It’s not the same.” He bristles, and I realize his ego is bruised. He may not fight anymore, but he is still a fighter, still a four-time world middleweight champ.
My hands find my hips, but my feet remain on the safe side of the door. “Did you know that fighters come to Redemption from all over the country hoping for a chance to fight Torment? It became so ridiculous that he put rules in place. Only a fighter who has won fights against Redemption’s top fighters is allowed to challenge Torment. But no one has made it that far in years.”
“At my peak, I could have defeated Torment,” Zack huffs. “I could still beat him. It’s all smokescreen and mirrors. He’s hiding behind his fighters. Maybe he was good once, but now he’s afraid if he steps in the ring, everyone will discover he’s just an ordinary man.”
Incredulous, I cross the threshold and close the distance between us. “You think he’s afraid?”
“I think you’re afraid.” He strokes a rough finger along my jaw. “But you don’t have to be. Let me take you down that hill one more time.”
Emotion bubbles in my chest. I wasn’t afraid of Devil’s Hill. Even after I fell off Matt’s bike. I welcomed Zack’s help for the skills he could teach me, but I never felt fear like I do now. The thought of starting all over again, and with Zack, sends a chill down my spine.
“You have a job,” I protest.
“I haven’t taken a vacation in four years. I have more time owed to me than I know what to do with.” His hand slides beneath my ponytail, and he strokes his thumb over my nape. “Anything else?”
I scramble for all the reasons this is not a good idea. “I can’t pay you. I’m already financially stretched, and that’s with Stan and Fuzzy discounting their fees and Torment coaching me for free.”
Zack gives a disgusted snort. “I would never take money from you. It’s covered.”
Without any other reason for turning him down, I take the easy way out. “It wouldn’t work. We have too many unresolved issues between us. A past. I haven’t forgiven you, Zack. Seeing you every day…training with you…it would be too hard.”
He leans in close, rests his forehead against mine. “Since when did you, Shayla Tanner, ever turn away from something because it was too hard?”
Since you left. Since I didn’t have you to lean on or to catch me when I fell.
“I’m not the same person anymore.”
“Then be that person, because the girl I left behind didn’t let anything stand in her way. Not even me.”
I pull away, torn between what he’s offering and the emotional price I will have to pay. “I can’t train with you. It’s too much. Too confusing. I don’t know how I feel about you anymore. I don’t want to start something that isn’t going anywhere. I don’t want to lead you on.”
He doesn’t even flinch at what, to me, seem harsh words. “Then we’ll keep it strictly professional.”
“Professional?”
Zack nods. “It will be no different than your relationship with Torment and Fuzzy.”
Keeping it professional will protect my heart. It will give me a shot at achieving my dream. It will mean having Zack back in my life but without the risk of getting involved. I hesitate for a heartbeat, and then I nod. “Okay.”
His eyes warm, the gold flecks sparkling in the dim light. “You are still the bravest person I know.”
“Not like you. I saw some of your opponents. It took courage just to walk into those—”
He cuts me off with a kiss.
Oh my God. He’s kissing me. His lips are soft. Sure. Familiar. So delicious. So utterly sensual, I cannot pull away. His fingers thread through my hair, holding me still as he kisses me with an intensity that takes my breath away.
Stop.
My head is spinning, and I’m breathing fast as I reach for him, hands gripping his shoulders as I try to hold on. I am aching everywhere, every nerve firing at once in a rush of sensation that sweeps me away.
I am on fire.
“What happened to keeping it professional?” I gasp when he lets me up for air.
“Tomorrow, professional. Tonight, I need you.”
His words warm me from the inside out. He slides one arm around my waist, flexes until every inch of my body is pressed tight against him. This close, he molds to my body like he was made to be there. Like we are one person, not two.
Something cracks inside me. Longing breaks free, wraps around Zack, and refuses to let go. I missed him. I missed him so much, it hurts inside. Being with him is like coming home. It feels so right.
“Zack…”
“I got you.”
His chest rises and falls with mine. His heart pounds inside my body. I can feel his rock-hard erection against my hips.
Stop.
But it’s me who is kissing now. My mouth fitting to his. My moans echoing around us. My tongue searching, touching, tasting. Deeply. Desperately. He shudders, and his tongue caresses mine, velvety soft. So decadent. Erotic. So very, very wrong for me. And yet, I never imagined I could feel like this again, never thought I could be awakened by a kiss.
His fingers stroke gently over the curve of my ear, along my jaw, caress my cheek even as his other hand tightens in my hair, as if he’s afraid I will run away.
But there is nowhere I want to run, nowhere I want to hide. There is only Zack.
Zack with his hard body pressed against mine.
Zack with his soft lips on my cheek.
Zack sliding his hands under my ass and carrying me to Torment’s desk.
With one sweep of his hand, he clears the desk. Then he lays me back on the cold, hard surface. Papers flutter to the floor around me, like the ashes I will become when Torment finds out what I’ve done.
Oh God.
“Zack…” My heart pounds, not just in anticipation of what we’re about to do in Torment’s office but of what might happen if Torment were to find out.
“Don’t be afraid,” he murmurs against my ear. So confident. Commanding. Dangerous. Dominant. Protective. Passionate. Darkly handsome. He’s the kind of man I have always avoided since leaving Glenwood and yet secretly desired. The kind of man I hid from in Damian’s arms, only to discover I’d run in the wrong direction.
“I’m not afraid. I’m terrified.” My breath is coming fast and hard, and I am wet for him, hot and aching. And I hate myself for it. I am opening myself up to heartache and pain. One night with Zack won’t be enough.
“But you’re still here.” He slants his head and cuts me off with a fierce kiss, bruising my lips, his fingers digging so hard into my skin, my eyes tear. Blood pounds in my temples, my hunger for him raw and wild. I slide my arms around his neck and drag him down for more.
“You’ve got a beautiful body,” he says as he runs his hands down my curves. “I want to lick my way over every one of your muscles. I want to taste you all over again.”
He leans over and nuzzles my neck, the rough stubble of his beard scraping over my sensitive skin, and then he cups my breast in his hand and kneads it gently through my clothes. I am on fire, sweat beading and running down my back. I know better than this.
Play with fire and you will get burned.
He rolls my nipple, taut beneath my clothes, between his thumb and forefinger until I arch up on the table, hungry for more.
“There’s my girl,” he mutters half to himself. “Wanting what I can give her.”
Who is this man and where did he learn to talk like that? His sensual words rip down my barriers almost as quickly as his naughty hands. He cups my other breast, squeezing and stroking until I feel swollen and sore and desperate for his hands on my bare skin.
“Torment’s desk…” I don’t know if I’m warning or wanting, but I stop thinking when Zack presses my legs apart and leans over me. And then he is everywhere, his hands hot under my shirt, his tongue in my mouth, his body pressed up against me, his erection firm against my stomach. I can’t think, can’t fight. I want him like I’ve never wanted a man before, and I’ll do almost anything to have him.
A door slams in the distance, and I stiffen on the cold wood surface. Zack’s head whips around just as the hall lights come on. Heart pounding, I scoot off the desk and drop to the floor to gather up Torment’s papers.
“Leave them.” He holds out his hand to me.
“Are you crazy?” I stand and dump an armful of papers on the desk. “Blade Saw will tell him he gave me the keys. He’ll know I was here.”
Zack pulls his ring off his finger. Every MEFC fighter who wins a title belt is given a ring by the MEFC CEO to commemorate the victory. I don’t know which of his four title fight rings he is wearing, but when he tosses it on Torment’s desk, my hand flies to my mouth.
“Zack.” My voice comes out in a strangled whisper. “What are you doing? Your ring…it’s precious. He’ll know it’s yours and he’ll come after you.”
“I know.” He clasps my hand and tugs me toward the door.
“You don’t have to protect me,” I protest.
“I need to protect you, sweetheart. It’s what I was born to do.”