Fighter Daddy: A Bad Boy Secret Baby MMA Sports Romance (16 page)

"I want you to do nothing," Lee repeats. "Keep doing what you're doing and don't let him see you're healing. It will all end with the match. Keep Ricky at bay, but make sure
you're there when the fight goes down
. Do you understand? It's very important that he doesn't leave you here."

I nod, not understanding, but I trust Lee. Besides, I wanted to see the fight anyway. I wouldn't miss it for the world. One way or another, that's where it all happens.

"And then it will be over?" I ask, sighing happily. "No more Ricky. After the fight, we're free?"

"Yeah," Lee says. "All I need to do is win."

He kisses me again, but the smile on my face is frozen.

I
t's
the middle of the night when the call comes.

I'm awake instantly, fumbling with the cell. It keeps slipping. When someone calls at this hour, it's never a good thing.

"
Lee
," Dad's voice says.

This can't be. I haven't talked to either him or Susan since they were taken away. Ricky is way too careful for that.

It's two days until the fight. What is this, a new intimidation trick? Ricky's way to show me I have to do his bidding? Fuck that, I won't be—

He's panting. Running?
Oh fuck
. Fuck no, this isn't happening.
Two days
.

"Dad," I almost bark into the phone. "What are you doing?"

"
What I've been trying to do ever since that gangster kidnapped us
," Dad goes on. "
I've taken down our guards. This phone belonged to one of them.
"

"No, Dad," I tell him, but he isn't listening. "
Stop
. Go back inside, find Susan, sit still. I'm getting you out of there in two days, you have to wait until the match..."

"
Son, I do not trust that gangster to keep his word. I have to keep Susan safe. She's not taking this well
."

"I know, Dad, I know, but trust me, you have to trust me
now
, go back into the house or wherever they're keeping you. Go in, disarm, sit tight."

I hear heavy breathing. He's disappointed in me, but I know Ricky better than he does. Dad thinks the only guards there are the ones he sees, but Ricky always has a back-up in place. There is a gun trained on him right now.

"
Lee, I understand you're worried about me, but I assure you—
"

"I'm not fucking worried!" I roar into the phone.

I'm already up, searching for my clothes, although I know it will be too late. I'd never make it in time to... I don't even know where he is.

"I'm
not
worried, I know this bastard. He always has double the guards you see. Do you understand? Get back inside, Dad, they'll—"

I hear gunshots and running. Shouting from afar and the sound a phone makes when it falls or drops. I hear Dad cursing them, but no one answers. New shots and everything goes quiet.

I stop.

"Dad?" I ask.

I wait for a long time. When I hear footsteps and voices that aren't his, I hang up. I sit on my bed and slowly, carefully wrap my head around what just happened. They teach you that in the Marines. It's not in any book; you pick it up along the way. When something like this happens, you need to process it at once. Let all the emotions through you immediately and then consider the matter dealt with. That's the man's way. Pushing down grief isn't how we do it. That leads to issues a Marine can't have.

I make myself face the fact. My father is dead, gunned down by Ricky's guys in an attempt to flee his captivity. That is the easy part. It's harder to push myself past the idea I could have done something.

Two days. He had to wait for two more days and I could have taken us all home. And right now, all he had to do was go back inside. Ricky would have been pissed, but he can't afford to have another corpse on his hands.

Unless someone tries to escape.

I can't blame myself for this. I don't blame Dad either. This is all Ricky, that fucking piece of shit, and he has his reckoning coming. One way or another, I'll make him fucking pay for this.

No, it isn't my fault, but I guess I saw it coming. I am not surprised Dad tried to escape. He was a military man too, an ex-soldier, a proud veteran. Guys like that are straight-backed. No wonder it pissed him off to be captured by the likes of Ricky.

I see what he meant, because I'm thinking the same. Dad wanted to protect his woman, like I'm protecting mine. In his position, I guess I'd have done the same.

The man deserved better. I'll make sure Ricky eats his heart for this.

Sleep does not come easily. I keep waiting for Susan's call, terrified, held at gunpoint, but it does not come. If I know Ricky at all, he's already given the strictest orders to keep an eye on her. He can't lose two hostages in one night. His clumsy guards have cost him enough for today.

The situation has worsened and more is at stake now than ever. Ricky has one hostage less to threaten me and Raina with. But it's bad news for us. After tonight, with Susan no doubt a witness to the murder of her husband, there is no way Ricky would ever let her walk.

If I don't win, neither she nor Raina will ever see the sun again.

I
see
the fucker the next day. I never liked him, but now the sight of him makes my blood boil. That fucker thinks he can keep Raina and my child. I will make him pay for every second he is keeping me from being with them.

It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to strangle him on the spot. At least the asshole looks angry himself. I guess he didn't get such a good read on my dad then.

"I've been informed you already know, Mr. Mason," he says grimly. "I assure you, there was no provocation from my men. Your father brought this upon himself."

Funny thing is, I don't think he's lying. I'm sure Dad needed no provoking when he and Susan had been imprisoned for weeks.

I walk up to Ricky and look him straight in the eye. I see Victor's hand going for his gun. The others around us are tense too. They all know I could twist his neck if I wanted to before any of them drew.

"I will make you pay for this," I tell Ricky.

My voice is as calm as it can be, but deadly. I have to give the bastard credit. He hasn't turned his gaze away from me.

"There will come a time when you curse the moment you started fucking around with my family."

Ricky smiles his shark grin. It is as cold and passionless as he is.

"There is only one member of your family I'm interested in fucking, Mr. Mason."

It's not funny, but a few of his guys mistake it for a joke and try to laugh dutifully. Even Ricky doesn't appreciate it, judging by his glare.

I want to tell Ricky that he's fucking dead, but I can't. I
can't
make him suspicious. Not now, so close to the end. I'm forced to settle for:

"I don't make empty promises. I'm coming for you. Keep that in mind."

I walk away from him before he gets the chance to say something else to test my patience. I need to tell Raina. At some point. Right now I need to train, that's the key. It's the only thing that ever helped me focus my emotions.

The gym underneath Ricky's
is well equipped. Carson and other fighters on Ricky's payroll practice here. There are a few guys here today too, but I pay them no mind. In turn, they leave me alone. I guess news travels fast and no one wants to get a piece of the mood I'm in.

I choose the boxing bag. It's a cliché venting tool, but it's a cliché because it works. I skip warm-up. I know I shouldn't, but this is one of those days I don't give a fuck. I imagine the bag is Ricky and continue to pulverize it. Sure, it hurts me more than it hurts the bag, but pain is good.

So is training. With the fight coming up tomorrow, I can't give quarter in my routine. It's been vital that I win since the beginning, but the stakes went up. Before, Ricky could still convince Susan and Philip it was all about the money and they'd go, grumbling, with threats above their head. Ricky would keep an eye on them, but I believe he'd have kept his word.

I have no faith in him right now. Things changed. Susan doesn't have to be a genius to figure out this isn't merely about money. Not that she'd give a fuck right now. Ricky is bound to know that. If Susan goes, Susan talks. Since he can't have that, she's not going anywhere.

The worst thing is, there is no way for me to know Susan's still alive. Ricky's a ruthless killer. There's really nothing stopping him from killing her and telling us later.

I guess I'll find out tomorrow. For Raina's sake, I hope he's running out of coffins.

"Hey."

It's Carson. He's Ricky's star champion, which says enough, but he's not a bad guy. I heard he was furious after our match, wanted to come and settle the score with me. He doesn't look like that now. We've even trained together, so I guess he's forgiven me. He's standing there, taping up his hands.

"You want to go?" he asks, pointing to the cage.

"Sure," I say.

I have to get the feel of the cage again, anyway. These last few weeks I've mostly built up strength and focused less on cage tactics. Very few of those work against Sam. It's been a while since I had to rely on strength alone.

We start off slow, testing each other's defenses. Basically we go in slow motion, poking more than punching, until our blood is pounding and we're ready to show what we can really do.

Carson's not a match for me and we both know it. He's stronger, I'll give him that. He has the benefit of impressive height and a big build, nothing more. He stands in fine for Sam. Beating him, I wish I could believe it'll be as easy with the Unbroken.

Still, he's no paper doll either and he gets my sweat going, which is a good change. After half an hour, we're both out of breath, back to slow motion, but not out of choice this time.

I should rest, probably, but my hands still ache for Ricky's neck. With the fight tomorrow, this isn't the time to be sloppy, but fuck if that isn't one of those things that mess people up. I'm holding three lives in my hands and I've already let one drop. I will not let it happen again. Not to Raina and our baby.

Over my dead fucking body.

We finish up, no real result. Carson knows I'd win and I don't feel like rubbing his nose in it today.

"Hey Mason," he says when I pick a bottle from my bag by the ringside.

"Yeah."

"You're a fucking dick," he says.

I choke on the water laughing and it runs down my shirt and chest. It feels good. Not the water, the fact that Carson's bluntness can make me laugh. Shows I'm good.

"Eat me," I say. "Usually we trash talk
before
the match."

"Spare me," he growls. "I don't like your wit."

"You're setting me up for these jokes, I swear."

He snarls something unintelligible and goes silent for a long moment then.

"No, I mean, you
are
a fucking dick, Mason," he says.

I put the bottle back on the ground and walk to face him. Carson doesn't back away a step. He watches me approach, frowning.

"Maybe," I say. "But I'll be damned if I let a prick like you tell me that."

I expected him to throw a punch, but he's still staring a hole through my chest. This is getting weird. Carson's normally not like this, but I guess he's still pissed off after all.

"Doesn't mean I like what they're planning," he goes on, like he's finishing a sentence he started five minutes ago.

"Who's planning what?" I ask, but I think I have a good guess.

Carson looks around, checking to see if we're alone. We are; all the rest of the fighters left and the cameras in this room have no sound.

"Mr. Gerrard," he says, pressing the words out. "And Sam's agents."

I
humph
. It fucking figures. But this doesn't surprise me either. I shrug and go back to my water. When I look back, Carson's still staring at me, confused this time.

"Let me guess," I say, taking a big gulp. "They've made a deal. Sam's going to kill me in the ring, make it look like a tragic accident."

"Yeah."

I have to say it makes me feel better. I'm not fucking psychotic and I don't have a death wish, but in a way it's a relief. My suspicions are confirmed and now I can continue figuring a way out of this.

"You're not surprised," Carson says.

"Not really," I admit. "Ricky's a fucking bitch. He isn't man enough to deal with his own problems, so he needs someone else to do that. And why not Sam? He's got a reputation. No doubt there are big sums at play."

"Huge," Carson admits. "They're all betting on Sam, of course, but Mr. Gerrard has put a lot of money on you not walking out of the cage on your own."

"His vote of confidence is fucking touching."

It also confirms Ricky doesn't expect me to win. He'll make back the money I lost him by putting money on the more gruesome outcome.

"You're not worried?" Carson asks. "You might die tomorrow."

Carson's all right. He said "might." That's the most positive anyone has been about my chances for the upcoming match. Raina can't even say Sam's name. Whoever let her Google Sam is an asshole, but I bet that was Ricky too.

"If I die, I die," I say.

We drink our water in silence after that, until Carson murmurs, in his brutish, awkward way:

"Sorry about your old man."

I want to punch him for reminding me when I managed to forget for two seconds. I also want to ask if there's fucking
anyone
in this building that doesn't know. Was there a press conference this morning? Ricky better not get in my way today or I'll reconsider my policy of not fucking him up before the time is right.

Only problem is, Carson is among the shit-ton of people who can't be blamed for this.

"He died doing what he loved. Kicking gangster ass."

Carson grunts in agreement.

I think that's enough heartfelt moments for one day. Carson and I pack up.

"Hey," I tell him when we're almost done. "You're a prick too."

He looks up, frowning at me.

"But thanks for the warning."

Carson snorts and minds his own business from then on out. I go to look for Raina. Carson didn't exactly warn me, but he did confirm my thoughts. One way or another, I don't plan on telling Raina any of that. I should tell her about Philip, before she hears it from fucking Victor, or worse, Ricky.

And if I really die tomorrow, one more good memory won't do me any harm.