Fierce (20 page)

“You’re screwy,” she said and carried on, enjoying the rest of her dessert. Avery didn’t interrupt her again. He decided this wasn’t the right moment to tell her after all. Right now, she was just a big kid, a wide-eyed girl having fun in a posh restaurant. He didn’t want to ruin that.

He
wanted
to say the words, but he wanted a woman to hear them. Rose could grow up real fast when she wanted to, and he had a hunch that once they were back in Mitre, there’d be no stopping her. Now that she’d conquered Reno, and his heart, she’d keep going until she got exactly what she wanted in life.

“Well, well. Heavyweight in the ring, lightweight at dinner.” She tutted. “At least try those wafers. They’re something else, believe me.”

So was she.

The three of them barely spoke during the trip back to Mitre. Marlon was still tired after his hard fighting. Rose slept on the flight and during the car journey home. And Avery found it hard to concentrate on a single thought for long; there were too many distractions in his life right now. Most of them revolved around her. But by the time he passed through the town limits, he’d made his mind up about two things. One, he was going to suggest Rose move in with him permanently. Ever since he’d started training her, that fire had been burning inside him. It wasn’t just his heart she’d ignited; the old hunger raged as well. He wanted to prove himself again, in the ring, on the grandest stage imaginable.

That led to his second big decision: Avery Wright was going to kick his career up a notch. The light heavyweight ranks no longer posed much of a threat, so he would have to bulk up a little and take on the big boys. The heavyweights. Luca wouldn’t like it—he’d always said that MMA division was for street brawlers, not trained fighters—but in many ways Avery
was
a product of the streets. So was Luca. They both knew what it took to claw their way out of danger.

A new woman. A new phase of his career. It was all happening, and just like Rose, he felt like nothing could stop him.

***

The gym erupted with cheers and applause when he and Rose made a surprise entrance late that afternoon. It was packed—more than he’d ever known it—and before they could get to the office to see Luca, they were practically mobbed by guys wanting to hear about the Dolphin dust-up. “How many did you fight at once?” “Did Rose K.O. anyone?” “Let me shake your hand, boss.” “What happened to Marlon?” “We got our own Ronda Rousey!”

Okay, so Avery was more or less used to this kind of attention. He’d been mobbed plenty of times by fans backstage after a fight. But this was overwhelming because it was on his home turf; and neither he nor Rose had actually fought a match in Reno.

For some reason, their brawl in the casino had made more of an impression in Mitre than poor Marlon’s great performances in the ring. It was already the stuff of homespun legend. The five righteous Mitre fighters facing down an army of corrupt suits in the big bad city. He half-expected someone to approach him for the movie rights.

“So I dressed it up a little,” Luca admitted in his office, when they finally got some time alone from the mob. “Can you blame me? It’s got the whole town riled up. Three of our young women get assaulted by five men in black, and they
fight back.
That alone would have been a great story. But you and Marlon jumping in as well, probably our two best fighters, wiping the floor with those punks: you couldn’t make that stuff up. We’ve had more new members in the past two days than we’ve had all year! Not just from Mitre. Some of them are driving upwards of half an hour to get here a few times a week.”

“Well, I’m glad we got
something
out of it,” replied Avery. “The cops didn’t inspire much confidence.”

“They’re probably being paid to sweep it under the carpet,” added Rose. “Shane Hoskins and this mysterious Mr. Delgado, they’re the ones calling the shots in Reno. I’m pretty sure they’re the people you need to go after if you want to get the bottom of this fight-fixing.” She told Luca what she’d overheard that night at the bar from the old fight manager: how tournaments like those were riddled with corruption, and many of the results were predetermined.

“You think it’s worth taking those names to the IMMAF?” asked Avery.

“Not yet,” Rose replied. “First we need some solid proof, otherwise it’s just hearsay. No one would take us seriously.”

Luca nodded. “She’s right. And I’ve heard of Hoskins before. He’s connected with practically everyone in Nevada. Reno
and
Vegas. We’d need a serious smoking gun before we even whispered his name to the IMMAF.” He bent to scratch an itch near his sore ankle. “Rose, did you catch the old manager’s name? The one from the bar?”

“Ah, Pete, I think. And he was talking to a guy called Howie. They were both pretty old. About seventy, I reckon.”

“I know a few Petes that fit that description. Did you get his last name?”

She shook her head. “I was eavesdropping rather than chatting. They didn’t exactly want me there.”

“What are you thinking, bro?” asked Avery. “Could you find out who they are?”

“Mm. Maybe. If he was there at the party, he probably had a fighter in the tournament. I could probably get a list of all fighters and their reps, see if there’s a Pete in there. And if there is, I might be able to get in touch with him. If he’s as pissed off as you say, he might be willing to talk. Tyler Culver and I could fly out to have a word with him.” He paused to make sure no one thought it was a dumb idea. “I think that’s our best bet. This Pete, whoever he is, might know something concrete about Delgado’s racket. If he does, we should hire a P.I. to put it all together.
Then
we take it to the FBI and the IMMAF.  Shane Hoskins might be the swinging dick in Nevada, but even he wouldn’t mess with the FBI.”

Avery and Rose looked at each other, both mouthed the word
Wow.
This had suddenly gotten huge and out of control. His little brother was getting ambitious on his one good foot! God help the criminals of this world when his ankle mended; dude might change his name to Eliot Ness if he kept on like this.

“Next time we go anywhere, we’re taking you with us,” Rose told Luca. “If you fight as tough as you talk, we’ll just stand and watch.”

“No kidding!” said Avery. “Now we just need to find you a round shield with a big star on it.”

Rose thrust her hand up. “If either of you comes in here dressed as Captain America, I won’t be responsible for my actions. Just saying.”

Both Avery and Luca laughed.

“How are Ash and Lena?” asked Luca.

“They took a few bad knocks, but they’ll be okay,” replied Avery. “Actually, I think it’s them who should get most of the credit, after Rose. From what I hear, they were fierce.”

“They
were
fierce,” said Rose. “They blocked the kidnappers at the door, just in the nick of time. I think that was the crucial part. They wouldn’t let the kidnappers take me outside.”

Luca nodded his admiration. “Then you and Marlon arrived to mop up?” he suggested.

“No. They did a
helluva
lot more than that,” said Rose, helping herself to bottle of Gatorade from Luca’s multipack. “I didn’t see Marlon’s fight, but your big brother here took on two kidnappers at once. And one of them had a knife.”

“Cheating bastard.”

“Just so you know,” she went on, “all four of them saved my life equally. No one deserves more credit than anyone else; we were a team that night, a kickass team. And for the first time in my life, I’m proud that I live in Mitre.”

“Hear! Hear!” Luca grabbed two more Gatorades, tossing Avery one. They all toasted the victory in The Dolphin, and seemed to forget all about Marlon’s bravura performance in the tournament. From now on, casino brawling, not licensed in-the-ring action, would come to epitomise the spirit of Wright Hook’s.

And henceforth, Rose Jacqueline was its patron saint. Its official mascot. The lone woman training in a gym full of men who were all desperate to prove themselves.

It made her more popular than ever. But for Avery, that presented its own set of problems.

***

The reception in the gym had freaked Rose out, plain and simple. She’d never been popular at school, or at any of her part-time jobs; people saw her as an outsider, a deviant, a girl who wasn’t into girly things and didn’t
want
to blend in. All that might be true, but the problem she’d always had with classmates and workmates was that they fit into prescribed little categories, and stayed in them, and if you weren’t willing to play one of those parts, you were by definition an outsider. Not because you wanted to be one, but because you didn’t like being categorized.

Bizarrely, Mitre’s fighters adopted her precisely because she was the odd one out. As a woman, she didn’t belong here in a men’s MMA gym; she definitely had no business throwing her kidnappers around in Reno; and she was far too comfortable in the company of so many macho guys. Yet, they couldn’t categorize her. She wasn’t a lesbian; she wasn’t a slut sleeping her way around the gym. However, she talked their talk, and she’d represented the gym and the town in a way all hot-blooded males responded to.

That was why she got all the attention, she reckoned. She didn’t belong, and yet she absolutely did in the one way that mattered: the ass-kicking way.

Once the initial carnival died down, and they stopped asking her to pose for selfies with them, and she’d told the story of the Dolphin brawl for at least the tenth time, Avery drove her home, and she slept for fourteen hours.

The next day, Saturday, she caught the bus to work in the afternoon. Avery had started early and would be at the gym all weekend to cope with the increase in business. However, when she stepped in through the front door of the gym, she dropped her packet of potato chips and gaped in disbelief. She had
no idea
it would be this crazy. Saturday had always been the busiest day at Wright Hook’s, but every single apparatus and piece of equipment was currently being used. There were even queues for some of the weight-lifting machines, while the ring itself looked as though it might collapse under the weight of all those bodies.

For a second she thought she would sneak back out, hope no one noticed, and call in sick. There was even a line outside Luca’s office, probably
more
people wanting to sign up for a membership. Manny Etcheverria, the other permanent coach, had returned to work, and Benny, one of the part-timers, was here as well.

Gino Rossi and Rick McGill came over to greet her. They’d finished their training session and had just showered and changed; she could smell the strong deodorants.

“Looks like you’ve put us on the map, Rosie,” Gino said to her. “I ain’t never seen anything like this. Did you know we had some reporters in here earlier?”

“No. I just got here. What reporters? What did they want?”

“Avery and Marlon, mostly. Asking questions about Reno, the casino fight. I think they’re after doing a big story on it.”

She set her bag down and sighed. “I wish I’d never got on that freaking plane.”

“You’re famous, honey,” said Gino.

“Yeah, in Mitre maybe. A legend in my own lunchtime.”

Both men put their arms around her and pretended to console her, just for fun. But she caught Avery watching from over near the skipping ropes. He didn’t appear to share the jest. In fact, he looked like he wanted to kill someone. When she waved, he gave the slightest of nods, then turned away.

For a room full of sweaty people, it had sure gotten chilly in here all of a sudden. What was his problem?

It didn’t end there either. Throughout the rest of the day, they barely spoke. Okay, they were both run off their feet, and there was always someone wanting his expertise, but Rose didn’t like the way he was keeping tabs on her from a distance. Whenever a guy or a couple of guys got friendly with her, whether flirty or not, he’d gaze across the gym with overly keen interest, making her feel uncomfortable, even disloyal.

It got on her nerves, so she decided to ask Marlon what he thought.

“Jealous? I reckon yeah, maybe,” he said. “Can’t blame him for that, all these new dudes on the scene. But remember, word’s got out about Reno, and that’s maybe not the safest thing for you right now. If you ask me, he’s concerned about you, about all this attention you’re getting.” He looked over at Avery, who glimpsed the two of them from the corner of his eye and carried on with his coaching. “Do yourself a favor, though,” Marlon went on. “Don’t wait for him to explain himself. Just ask the dude. Trust me, the longer you try to guess what’s going on inside someone else’s head, the wronger the whole thing gets. Doesn’t matter if you’re right. If being married has taught me anything, it’s that. It’s better to just talk it out. At least then you’ll know for sure, right?”