Battered Not Broken (4 page)

She arched a brow, trying to appear cool on the outside while her insides simmered. “Really? No work or family obligations to keep you from showing up here every week?” The prize money paid out by Harbor City MMA Events was far from enough to live off of, so most of the guys missed Fridays here and there, usually due to their jobs. And she’d heard more than one of them grumble about having to stay home with the kids while their girlfriends or wives worked Friday night shifts.

“I’m a roofer – we quit when it gets dark. And family? No. I’m free to spend my nights however I choose.” Was there the barest hint of a suggestive note in his voice, or was she imagining it?

Either way, she pretended not to notice. “Oh.” The lame reply was all she could come up with as she stood there imagining what it would be like to see him dominating the ring every Friday night, his muscles glistening with sweat beneath the intricate knots of ink that spanned from his shoulders to his hips.

“About how I spend my nights…”

She definitely hadn’t imagined the suggestive edge to his voice. It became overt as he leaned on the wall, bracing himself against the brick. “Want to get something to eat after the fights are over?”

His question hit her like a pulled punch to the gut – light but startling – though it hadn’t exactly come out of left field. “I can’t. I came here tonight with my mother.”

He was silent, but his breath froze in front of his lips, forming a cloud of vapor that might have been a silent sigh. “Another time, then. Like I said, all my nights are free.”

“I don’t date strangers.” Her lips felt strangely stiff as she spoke. “Sorry.”

Another silent moment and puff of frozen breath. “All right. But I won’t be a stranger forever. You’ll be seeing a lot of me, even if it is just at the gym.”

He might not know how to take no for an answer, but he knew how to make her shiver. A frisson zipped down her spine as his promise rang in her ears. “I’m going to head inside. It’s cold out here.”

“See you soon.” His words were casual, but a low note in his voice made them something distinctly personal – more of a promise than an offhand turn of phrase.

Warmth and noise buffeted her as she opened the door and prepared to step back into the gym. As she placed one foot over the threshold, she couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder at the man who’d just asked her to dinner.

He was leaning heavily against the building’s wall, one arm and the opposite hand braced against the brick. It looked less like his casual pose of seconds ago and more like he needed the wall for support.

He kept his shoulders rigid, but his head dipped lightly to the left, reminding her of the brief moment when he’d faltered in the ring. For some reason, watching him stand that way brought back the butterflies that had plagued her stomach earlier. Only now, their fluttering brought on something more like nervous concern than excitement.

“Excuse me.” A woman with voluminous curls and too much make-up stood facing Ally, a box of cigarettes and a plastic lighter in hand. Her voice – roughened by probably two or three decades of smoking – broke the spell of Ally’s concentration.

“Sorry.” Ally slipped back inside the gym and made her way toward the sea of folding chairs.

Maybe one of the blows Moore had taken to the gut had left him feeling a little queasy. It was probably nothing.

* * * * *

“Well, how was it?” Melissa’s voice was softer than usual as she stood by Ally’s locker, her jacket still zipped and her duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

“Same as usual,” Ally said, lowering her own bag onto the changing bench and unzipping it, exposing its contents –  freshly-laundered shorts, a sports bra and spandex top. Her gloves and mouthpiece were in her locker, where she usually kept them.

“How was his eye?”

“Better. The bruise is yellow and faded now. He didn’t have any other injuries that I could see, but you know, the uniform hides a lot.”

Melissa nodded and slowly dropped her bag before shucking her jacket.

“I get the feeling he doesn’t tell me the worst of what goes on in there.” Ally’s gut twisted with certainty as she pictured her father as he was shown on the screen she saw him on when she visited the prison. That was how they handled visitations there – she didn’t even get to see him face to face. Instead, they were in different rooms, maybe even different floors of the large facility, connected by technology. “No, I know he doesn’t.”

“If he holds back I’m sure it’s because he doesn’t want to worry you and your mother.”

“I worry about him every day. My mother does too. And we’ll never know who gave him that black eye, or ninety-nine percent of what goes on in there.”

“He’s made it this far. He’s tough and he’s smart – he’ll make it another year.”

Ally nodded and tried to let Melissa’s confidence seep into her thoughts. It was hard with the image of her father in his prison uniform still fresh in her mind. She always felt off for the rest of the day after visiting him. She tried to make the most out of their visitation sessions, but they were never long enough and being inside the maximum-security corrections facility was like sitting under a storm cloud. And as much as she hated the place, her heart wrenched every time she walked out its doors and left him alone behind its walls.

“Come on.” Melissa slung an arm around Ally’s shoulders. “We’re practicing your kicks today, remember?”

“Yeah.” Ally suppressed the sigh that threatened to escape her when she remembered why she’d asked her friend to help her with her kicks. Two days ago, she’d competed in the women’s MMA competition Cameron had hosted, just like he did every other Saturday. They weren’t as popular as the men’s nights yet, but had begun to draw more competitors lately. One of those competitors had kicked Ally’s butt.

More accurately, she’d kicked Ally in the gut and knocked her to the mat, where she’d locked her in an armbar she hadn’t been able to escape. She’d been forced to tap out and had lost that match. She’d been disappointed – in herself, mainly, because the blow that had floored her had come after she’d aimed a kick of her own. She’d telegraphed the kick – given it away by moving before she’d actually thrown it – and that had been the moment when she’d lost the upper hand she’d maintained up until then.

“Let’s warm up on a bag.” Melissa halted beside a large one that wasn’t being used. If anyone would be able to get Ally’s kicks into shape, it would be her – she was unbelievably skilled and quick with her long legs.

Ally practiced both punching and kicking combinations for about five minutes, solely for the purpose of warming up. Then she nodded to Melissa, who began critiquing her as she laid into the bag with roundhouse kicks – the very move she’d botched during her match on Saturday.

Kicking over and over again and trying to iron out the kinks in her technique under Melissa’s watchful guidance was a calming process. While the movements might seem simple, she had to devote her full concentration to them to avoid slipping back into her old habits, and that left no room in her thoughts for worry over her father.

“Your kicks are looking a lot better,” Melissa said eventually. “Let me warm up on the bag for a few minutes, then we’ll try them out on the mats.”

Ally backed away from the bag, giving Melissa some space as she focused on steadying her breathing and her heart rate. She’d almost succeeded when a gust of cold wind slipped past her, disturbing the ends of her ponytail.

She turned toward the door where someone had just entered. Tall, male and clad in a black hoodie, he could have been almost any one of the gym’s members. But Ally knew exactly who he was. Certainty hummed through her veins and brought back memories of Friday night, which was the last time she’d seen Ryan Moore.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he turned slightly, exposing a strong jaw and unforgettably blue eyes to her sight. Knowing she’d been able to identify him at a glance was a source of senseless pleasure. There was no real reason why it should have made her happy, but it did.

“Ready.”

Ally turned to face Melissa, who’d worked up a light sweat.

“Let’s go before someone else takes the mat.” She tipped her head of night-black curls toward an area in the far left corner. It wasn’t a ring, but an area of floor space that had been laid with interlocking foam mat pieces. It was perfect for sparring.

Ally nodded and started toward the corner with Melissa. She hadn’t made eye contact with Moore when he’d entered, but knew that he’d seen her – his gaze burnt between her shoulder blades, an almost tangible sort of pressure. She didn’t look over her shoulder, but somehow, she knew he was looking.

At least she’d gotten in some practice before he’d arrived. She had a personal policy against dating strangers, but that didn’t mean she wanted to make a fool out of herself in front of a man who had the ability to make her feel as if the city was in the midst of an August heat wave with a single look.

“Good,” Melissa coached her as they moved in easy circles. “Good, but a little faster this time.”

Ally gave her technique every bit of concentration she could muster, reserving only a small corner of her mind for the simple awareness that she was being watched. Her form wasn’t as good as Melissa’s, but she managed not to embarrass herself before the pressure of Moore’s gaze disappeared from between her shoulder blades.

A moment later, the sound of heavy punches landing in a one-two, one-two rhythm joined the chorus of similar sounds that filled the building. Moore was working a bag – hard. One-two-three, one-two… Ally couldn’t help but note the cadence of his combinations. In her mind’s eye, she could see his shoulders flexing beneath ink-covered skin.

“You okay?” Melissa did the one thing a good fighter never did during a match – she stopped moving.

“I’m fine,” Ally said, a twinge of guilt assailing her. She must have worried Melissa, who probably thought she was still down in the dumps about her father. “Come on.”

As Melissa launched back into motion, the weight of Moore’s gaze slid over Ally’s shoulders again and remained there for several moments. It was weird how acutely she felt its absence when it was gone.

Ally worked with Melissa until she felt like she’d really managed to put her instructions into action. Her kicks were smoother now – quicker and more fluid. She couldn’t go back in time to Saturday night, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

 Losing sucked – especially when it involved a kick to the gut strong enough to knock her off her feet – and the more matches she won, the more money she could make fighting at Cameron’s Saturday night events. She didn’t harbor any thoughts of fighting strictly for the glory of victory – she needed the money.

“Your kicks are looking good,” Melissa said. “Too bad we didn’t work on them before Saturday.”

“Yeah,” Ally agreed as a shiver zipped down her spine, alerting her to the fact that she was once again the subject of Moore’s gaze. “Too bad.” The feeling was gone a moment later, leaving her feeling like he’d touched her briefly with his eyes, just like someone might take a moment to tuck a lock of hair behind a lover’s ear or stroke their cheek.

The subconscious analogy threatened to make her shiver again. “Thanks for helping me out.” Her skin pebbled from head to toe. “I’ve got to get going. My mother will be getting home from work in about half an hour and I don’t want her to be alone.” Plus, she was getting way too imaginative for her own good.

“Right.” Melissa nodded toward a bag that wasn’t being used. “I’m going to stay and work out on my own a little longer. Suzie’s gonna be here in an hour for my training session. Then I’ve got to leave for work. Give me a call if there’s anything I can do for you or your mom.”

“Thanks.” Ally drifted to the ladies’ locker room and quickly stripped out of her workout gear, throwing on jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt and a jacket. She’d shower when she got home – if she took the time to do so at the gym, she might not arrive at the house before her mother. She’d worked a little longer with Melissa than she’d intended.