DARE: A Bad Boy Romance (4 page)

Holly took several pensive sips of cappuccino as she eyed this mysterious, perceptive, smoking-hot guy who was in some ways Trey 2.0, but was in other ways, somehow, the polar opposite of her boyfriend. “Would you back me up?” she asked. “You’ve experienced his behavior first hand. They’d listen to you.”

“I will if you want me to. I don’t give a shit about what anyone on the circuit thinks of me.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow, raised half a smile—cute as hell. “What have you heard?”

“That you keep to yourself and don’t get involved in the celebrity stuff. That you’d rather hang out with your Marine pals than go in for the big splash parties.”

“That it?” He seemed a little disappointed.

“You really want me to quote the online gossip columns? I think there was a list of the most eligible bachelors in MMA, together with all the celebrity hotties they’ve dated.”

He almost snorted his espresso. “Really? How did I do?”

“Oh, you ranked pretty high.” Holly honestly couldn’t remember where he’d placed, but it was definitely in the top five. And small wonder, she admitted to herself. Now that he no longer frightened her, she could see how the stick insects and the bling brigade might want to chase him around the circuit. “But don’t let it go to your head,” she added. “Some other guy had dated Katy Perry.”

Dare laughed hard, then winced and held his side.

“Looks painful,” she said. “I feel really bad about what happened. I can’t believe he came after you like that. After the whole intervention in the ring thing, I can kinda see why he’d react that way—not that I agree with him or anything, hell no—but it’s become part of who he is. I’m just sorry you’ve had to go through all this for doing the right thing.”

“He’s aware of the corruption, though, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Again, Holly wasn’t sure how much she should say, but she found herself
wanting
to spill everything to this guy. “He’s more than aware of it.”

“You mean he’s in on it.” The matter-of-factness with which he broached that idea froze her mid-drink. This was dangerous territory. They were both playing with dynamite. Holly downed the remainder of her cappuccino in one go, then wiped her mouth with a napkin. “It’s okay,” he added. “You already mentioned the steroids. And trust me, half the people in this goddamn sport are bending the rules. I know several really high profile fighters who’ve doped before a big fight and never gotten so much as a reprimand. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that referees are just the tip of the iceberg.” Dare necked the last of his espresso. “That sort of thing goes deep. One person of influence takes a bribe to look the other way, brings another colleague in on it, and pretty soon you’ve got a climate of rules made to be broken. It makes me fucking sick, but there it is.”

“And that’s part of the reason you jumped in the other night,” she said. “You were sick of all that corruption and you wanted to take a stand against it.”

He looked hard at her, gave a shrug.

“In that case,” she went on, “I don’t mind telling you, you’re right about everything you’ve said about Trey. He
is
on steroids, even now, and the reason he never gets red-flagged for it is because he pays officials to bury his toxicology tests. He knows he can’t fight without juicing, so he does whatever he can to stay in the ring. And truth be told, there are probably a thousand stories just like that all across boxing, MMA…”

“Every professional sport,” he said. “Some worse than others, yeah, but the problem’s the same. It’s systemic. Scruples never made anybody rich.”

“On the contrary,” Holly added, “they prevent you from becoming rich.”

Dare pointed a finger at her in agreement. “And there’s that whole problem of ‘If everyone else is getting rich doing it, why shouldn’t I?’ That’s a powerful argument, or at least a seductive one. Like I said, part of the climate.”

“So why do you even want to be a part of such a corrupt sport?”

“Because I’ve had to fight for everything I’ve ever gotten in my life. Being given a fair shake in the ring, that’s just one more thing they don’t want me to have. I’ve never taken no for an answer, never will. I’ll take on the whole fucking sport, I don’t care. They either play by the rules they’ve set out or change them. And until they change them, they’d best stay out of my way if they don’t fly straight.”

Holly tried to discern how much of that talk was macho bravado for her sake, and how much it was genuine. If he meant every word, well, Dare Bowden might just be her new hero. “So you’re a crusader?” she asked to test his response.

“On a crusade for one, maybe.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“Being the best is.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but with a sly smile to tell him she wasn’t mocking him—well, maybe just a little. When he smiled back, and they locked gazes, she sensed the air between them begin to charge. They were suddenly way more intimate than she’d intended or that she felt comfortable with. “Does it never cross your mind that you might be stopped someday?”

“Nope. It’s like they say: the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior, and I ain’t never been beat, not even close. Not even in the Marines, and those are some of the toughest hombres anywhere in the world. I’ve fought on every continent, in every climate, against guys who would wipe the ring with half these millionaire UFC posers. If there’s someone out there who can take me down, bring him on, and I’ll show him why he’ll never get that far.”

Holly had to hand it to him, when he talked tough like this, it was hard not to feel a secret shiver low down, deep inside. If Dare was as good as he boasted—and from his reputation, he probably was—hell, she could listen to him talk tough all day. And all the while imagine the ways he could take her down and show her a few moves she’d never seen before. She might not look like much fitness-wise, but she could probably show him a thing or two as well, on the deck, with their bodies wrapped around each other in that empty ring he’d jokingly invited her into earlier…

A chair squeaked across the floor behind her. Holly snapped out of her fantasy and realized she’d been here far too long. She checked her watch and decided it was time to leave before this went any further. Sure, they’d hit it off, and that, more than any other subject they’d broached, was the kind of dynamite she absolutely couldn’t play with.

Trey would kill her if this went any further. Shit, he probably would whether it did or not, if he ever found out she’d come here today.

“I’ve not scared you off, I hope,” he said. “I mean, I’m willing to help if you wanted to take your boyfriend’s case to the IMMAF. Not the doping part, but the psych testing.”

She got up suddenly, slung her purse over her shoulder. “I, ah, yeah—I don’t know. It’s something to chew on, yes. I’ll definitely give it some thought. Thanks for all your help, Dare. I mean it.” Holly liked that she’d resisted calling him Mr. Bowden. He didn’t deserve such a cold goodbye. At least now she’d feel better about thanking him. They could part as friends.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, getting to his feet. He offered her his hand, but though she shook it, Holly found she couldn’t look him in the eye. It would make her feel too…susceptible. “Take it easy,” he added.

“You too. Good luck with your…” She was going to say crusade, but that sounded dopey; she settled for “next fight.” Outside, on her way past the window, she gave a polite wave and saw that he was following her intently with his gaze. It gave her another secret thrill, how self-conscious he made her feel. He liked what he saw, what he’d heard; hell, he liked
her,
he found her sexy. This stupidly hot, intriguing guy found her sexy.

A cold gust hit her from the side, and reality came back with it. Holly realized her own next fight was just ahead. It was a far trickier, more personal one, against the ticking time bomb that was the man she lived with.

There would be no winner in that fight.

Staring through the front window of the Mediterranean-style home she’d lived in for over four years now—Trey had moved them in here after he’d received his first half-million-dollar fight purse—Holly felt like a visitor, a temporary presence. The feeling got stronger every time she looked out at the feral garden. It had been a wonderful sight when they’d first moved in, massive and variegated and tended daily by a professional grounds man who serviced many of the properties on this row. She’d spent hours out there, under the palms and acacias, reading her fantasy novels and relishing the perfumes of the tropical flowers that surrounded her at all times. It had been a haven. Far removed from the packed charity events and the crazy fight nights she’d attended dutifully, yet never with any great pleasure.

But ever since Trey’s “episodes” had begun—more like mood swings at first, from which he’d snap at her for no apparent reason—just because she was there…ever since he’d got it in his head that Donald, their gardener, was hanging around so much because he had his eyes on Holly…well, her haven had been tainted. She couldn’t make him understand that a garden this varied and cosmopolitan needed careful attention, and no, it wasn’t a job any old granny could do with gardening gloves and a watering can. So, once the hothead had got rid of poor Donald, who was so offended by what Trey had said to him he’d never spoken or waved to Holly again, Holly had taken it upon herself to learn all she could about botany and the care of plants. To protect her haven, to keep it healthy and happy so that it, in turn, could go on doing the same for her.

A lot to learn. Maybe too much in too short a time.

As Trey had changed, so had the garden around her. Lord knows she’d done her best to manage the sensitive, temperamental nature of things—plants, fruit, love—but as their relationship had deteriorated, she’d gradually lost her enthusiasm. For everything. Trips to the mall, where she’d wander around in a kind of nervous shopaholic funk, only really buying things she thought Trey would approve of: cocktail dresses, negligee, and health food for her never-ending weight-loss diet he insisted on and against which she secretly railed. Those afternoon outings were empty, sucking holes in the middle of her day, except when she met up with her sister, Jessica, who always knew how to perk her up.

So that was her life now. The garden had long since grown out of control, like her relationship with Trey, and as she stared out the front window, remembering things the way they’d been in the beginning, Holly realized her time here was coming to an end. One way or another, she would not be here much longer. A part of her had already died. It was maybe only the grief from losing that part of herself, the sweet, wide-eyed Holly from high school, which made her feel anything for Trey anymore. As much as she hated what he’d become, what he’d done to her, deep down inside he would always be the cute and cocky jock who’d given her the best surprise of her life when he’d asked
her
out—not one of the cheerleaders or the bling brigade, but
her,
slightly chubby Holly Watkins. Her only fashion sense was what her sister gave her, and her only claim to fame, love-wise, had been a hot-but-fumbled few minutes after hours in the drive-through burger bar where she worked when a horny colleague called Rick had convinced her to let him see her boobs in the storeroom. It had gotten real sticky real quick when he’d stuck his hand up her skirt and made a not-altogether-unwanted play for second, maybe even third base. But neither of them had noticed Avinash, their pedantic assistant manager, return for a copy of the weekly schedule…which happened to be pinned on a notice board at the back of the storeroom.

She shook her head, smiling at the memory, but it had mortified her at the time. To be the center of gossip like that, and to
know
that Avinash, middle-aged and a stickler for Muslim protocol in his own community, had seen her half-naked and getting felt up like that. Sheesh. No wonder she’d kept to herself after that, at least until Trey had blown her mind that day in the gym. He had taken her to one side, away from her classmates, who were all watching…

“Are you busy Saturday night?” he’d asked.

“Um, no, I guess?”

“Because someone told me you liked theater.”

“Yeah? I mean, yeah. I do. I love theater.”

“Cool. My mom got tickets for this play on Saturday night—a pirate play—but she and Dad can’t make it, so I was wondering if you wanted to go with me instead. Supposed to be good sets and all that. Pirates. What d’ya reckon?”

“Wow, I—I’d love to. Pirates? Is that the name of the show?”

“Pirates of something…ah, I can’t remember. They’re good seats though. So you wanna come?”

“Yes. I’d love to.”

“Cool. Here’s my cell number. Just text me your home address and I’ll come pick you up about seven thirty.”

“Wow, yeah. I’m looking forward to it. Pirates are awesome.”

“Yeah. So, that’s cool. I’ll see you then.”

“Sure.”

As he’d walked away in his tight polo shirt and football shorts, that tight ass of his drawing admiring gazes from all the girls in her class, Holly had said his name under her breath. From that moment on, her life had changed completely. So what if Trey had gotten the theater thing ass-backwards? Pirates of Penzance was a comic opera, not a play; she’d had to fake a headache at the intermission to get the hell out of there, not because she didn’t like it, but because she could tell he was bored out of his mind and was only staying for her benefit. It was the first and last time he ever set foot in a theater, and she’d teased him about “the pirate play” for years after. At the intermission, they’d gone to the cinema instead to watch the latest big superhero film. Her turn to be bored. And to his credit, he’d asked her, about half way through, if she was enjoying it. She’d lied and said it was good. Trey had then waited for a romantic scene in order to lean in and kiss her, and suddenly she wasn’t so bored.

From then on, nothing about her life had been boring. People at high school had looked at her in a whole new way. She’d had lots of intense sex with a guy whose appetite was insatiable, and she’d followed him wherever he’d travelled on his incredible MMA adventure. A world she never knew existed had opened up for her; it had quickly become glitz and glamour, posh hotels, and VIP treatment at whichever venue they’d visited. Trey had always been a talented fighter, but Holly had to admit she’d been gob-smacked at how high and how quickly he’d climbed the UFC ranks.

The glitz and glamour. She’d miss it when the inevitable happened. But tonight she had to make another dutiful appearance at his side. The Homes for Heroes charity campaign was one of the sport’s most popular. Its latest gala event, to raise money for wounded and disadvantaged war veterans, was due to start in a couple of hours.

“Come on, babe.” Trey clapped his hands to get her attention. “Game face on. You’ve not even started getting ready.”

“There’s not a whole lot there for me to change into,” she replied, referring to the revealing sapphire Valentino gown he’d bought especially for her tonight. He claimed he’d seen some Hollywood starlet wearing it at a movie premiere, and he’d thought it would suit Holly’s figure. Well, yeah, if she
wanted
to show more cleavage than Katy Perry at the Grammy Awards. The plunging neckline almost reached down to her navel. Good thing it was a tight fit, or her charity “contribution” would be more than anyone bargained for tonight.

“You don’t like it?” The way he said it, he seemed to be daring her to disappoint him. Holly had learned from experience not to let that happen, though it was becoming more difficult to avoid all the time. He was so…touchy these days. Nothing she did seemed to please him anymore.

“I like it fine,” she said. “But that actress you saw wearing it…she was B-cup at most. I’ll practically be spilling out of it. Just so you know.”

“So what?”

“You never used to like me showing too much skin like that. Everyone will be staring.”

He didn’t look at her when he said, “That’s the whole idea, babe.”

“Okey-dokey.” Feeling like some sort of expendable commodity, she grabbed the dress in its wrapping and took it up to her room to change. But the man she imagined herself pleasing with this sexy, expensive designer number was not Trey. No. But would
he
be there tonight? At a charity event for veterans? Dare Bowden was notorious for avoiding big functions like these—she’d asked around—but something told her that the first time they’d met had been at one of these Homes for Heroes benefits. And he was a former Marine himself, which made it likely he’d want to attend. More than that, she hoped he would want to attend for another reason, for the same reason she kept thinking about him.

There’d been something between them that day in the café. Something she didn’t want to forget. At a time when nothing seemed to be going right for Holly, even a glimmer of hope for life after Trey was better than nothing.

Convinced she looked her absolute best, complete with the diamond necklace he’d borrowed for her, Holly felt a kind of defiant pride as she walked into the living room. He’d been right about the dress and about her figure—they were a perfect match. She had roomy hips, and her boobs had kept their shape surprisingly well.

One compliment, one wink of appreciation from Trey and her pride would last throughout the night. Instead, he glimpsed her from the corner of his eye and turned his back, hunched over the telephone in the corner, his voice lowered almost to a whisper.

Holly flipped him off behind his back, then admired herself in the big mirror. She checked the time. Not quite the last minute but cutting it close. The fact that he hadn’t shouted up after her was suspicious. How long had he been on the phone? And why the hushed conversation, the sheepish way he’d turned away?

Have I just caught the son of a bitch red-handed?

She tensed and felt her heart squirrel in her chest.
He can’t be that big of a rat, can he? Calling some ring girl slut while I’m
right here?
She decided to get closer in order to listen in, but her heels gave her away on the tiled floor. Trey abruptly—and conveniently—ended the call before she reached him. He looked her in the eye but didn’t even check out her cleavage. He was hiding something. That son of a bitch
was
hiding something.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“A friend. Whoa, is that the time? We’d better get going.”

“Ah-ah.” Holly stopped him, reached for the phone. “When I hit redial, who will pick up?”

“I told you—a friend. Go ahead if you don’t believe me.”

She clocked his eyes darting from side to side, as though he was weighing up possible outcomes. “You’re bluffing,” she said. “So what’s her name?”

“I told you. A friend. You don’t know her—him. You don’t know him.”

“What’s her name, Trey? I mean it.”

“You’re getting hot over nothing. We should go before it gets late.”

“One last time: what’s her name?”

Trey squared up to her, his mouth now a thin line. Without warning, he snatched the phone off her and hurled it against the wall. It smashed. “Fuck you! Her name’s Renata, and I don’t give a shit who knows.”

Holly stepped back, expecting him to lunge at her, but he didn’t. He just stared, his wide eyes dancing, an absurd look of hate and amusement itching at his features. It was as though he was ready to burst out into a cruel, giddy laugh.

“Where does that leave us?” She didn’t realize how timid her question was until later, but right then, it was the most diplomatic thing she could think of. Because inside the shock of finally hearing his admission—she’d suspected his affair for months now—she was not as angry as she’d expected she would be. No, it was more…inevitable. It made her sad, deeply sad. After all they’d been through, he didn’t give a shit who knew he was banging someone called Renata.

She couldn’t get past that stupid name. Renata. It sounded like a cheap European car.

“I think you know the answer to that,” he said, pacing about the room, working himself into an indignant lather.

“Jesus, you make it sound like
I’m
the one who’s to blame here.” Her turn to vent a little steam—more controlled than he deserved, but she was wary of his temper. The smart move here might be to just get the hell out ASAP before he snapped.