Healing Love (Love to the Extreme) (10 page)

“Fuck you,” Lance said through clenched teeth, knowing they had him backed in a corner. Piper held the key to his daughter, and if she ever found out he was involved with the McNealys again, he’d lose Skylar.

“Good. We’re on the same page.”

It took every bit of his self-restraint for Lance not to punch the smug smile off the other man’s face.

“Now get ready,” Mitch said as he started to walk off. “You’re going to need it. This isn’t the kind of fighting you’re used to.”

Lance glanced at the cage. The grounded fighter had somehow made it back to his feet. Blood saturated one side of his face from a wound on his forehead, and he was unsteady on his feet, swaying alarmingly. The other fighter didn’t even have to do anything. The guy collapsed to his knees and tapped the canvas with his opponent a foot away from him. The ref ended the fight.

This isn’t the fighting you’re used to.

Mitch was right on that. Though they’d made the fighters wear gloves, which Lance had been glad to see because it showed that Gabe and Mitch weren’t being completely stupid, nothing was considered an illegal move. Of the four fights he’d watched, he’d seen eye gouging, head-butting, and groin shots. In regulated fighting, each one of those moves would’ve resulted in a point deduction. Not here. The more violent it was, the more it was encouraged. It made him sick. MMA had worked so hard to distance itself from the human cockfighting stigma, and here he was, participating in one.

His training would put him at a disadvantage, because he refused to degrade the sport he loved by resorting to cheap moves to win. He couldn’t say his opponent would feel the same, though.

Might as well get it over with. His opponent was Kelvin Johnston. That was the extent of what he knew about the man. Cards had been passed around so the patrons could place an educated bet. He’d refused to touch one. He’d spent too many years distancing himself from the thrill he’d received from placing a bet to add to that temptation now.

Lance tugged off his shirt then headed toward the cage. Once there, a guy helped him tape his hands then slipped the fingerless padded gloves onto each hand. He flexed his fingers, stretching out the black leather. Popping his mouth guard in, he started to warm up his muscles by hopping from foot to foot.

“On to the final fight of the night,” the announcer yelled into the mic. “With a record of twenty wins and four losses, Lance Black!”

Blocking out the screams from the crowd, Lance ran into the cage then side-jumped around the perimeter to his corner, eyes locked on the massive African-American man waiting outside to be introduced. Something wasn’t right about this, and again dread knotted his stomach.

“And with a record of fifteen wins and one loss, Kelvin Johnston!”

As the man stepped into the cage, Lance lowered his arms. What the fuck?

Kelvin was the epitome of a brick house. There was no way in hell the man was in the light-heavyweight division. There had to be a seventy-pound weight difference here.

When they met in the middle of the ring, Lance had to crane back to look Kelvin in the face. The motherfucker had to be a good six inches taller, which said a lot, considering Lance was six feet tall.

You only get credit if you win.

So this was the unforeseen event. Though he highly doubted that it had been “unforeseen” at all. All the other fights had been evenly matched. This had been deliberately set up so Lance would lose. He guessed the McNealys hadn’t heard the phrase “the bigger they are, the harder they fall.” Losing wasn’t an option.

After the referee backed away, giving the all clear for them to fight, Lance circled around Kelvin. The size difference was hard to ignore. Not that he hadn’t gone against bigger men before—he had, but they still fell within his weight class.

This dude was fucking huge.

The man swung out a massive arm. Lance ducked then countered with a right hook into his side. The man lumbered around.

Lack of speed was one disadvantage guys this big had—though a punch from this fucker would knock Lance straight the hell out—because their strength was brutal. The best thing he could do was keep moving. He danced around Kelvin, making sure to stay outside the man’s reach and going in for punches and leg shots only when the fighter left an opening.

Aggressiveness wouldn’t help him. This was a defensive fight. They couldn’t just go at it the way all the other fighters had. He had to be smart about it, use his opponent’s size against him.

At the lack of action, the crowd began to boo. Every damn one of them could kiss his fucking ass. Real fighting wasn’t just about swinging blindly at each other. It was knowing your opponent, knowing yourself, and not getting caught up in the chaos.

“Fight me, asshole,” Kelvin said around his mouth guard and lowered his arms.

Seeing the opening he needed, Lance took him up on his invitation and swept in with a powerful uppercut underneath the chin. Everything around him slowed as Kelvin’s head snapped back. The man stood there for a second before he fell backward. The canvas thundered under the crash of his body.

Stunned silence followed for a fraction of a second before the entire place erupted in fury.

The referee lifted up Lance’s arm, yelling, “Winner.”

People were cussing and tearing up pieces of paper. His gaze swept the room and found Gabe and Mitch leaning back against a wall. In unison, they clapped and gave him a nod of respect. Satisfaction rolled off the two men, confusing Lance. Hadn’t they wanted him to lose?

He looked around at the commotion from those attending.

It hit him. The McNealys had gambled, too. They
had
deliberately put him up against someone larger, but not to make him fight for free. To get people to bet against him. Those two had just made a small fortune off his win, and Lance was now five grand closer to being out of debt to them.

The sooner he paid off that debt, the better off he’d be.

As he exited the cage, his gaze went to Kelsey’s office. The door was open this time and she was standing inside the doorframe with her arms hugged around herself. An intense, puzzled expression marred her features, then she stepped back and closed the door.

How had she felt about the fight? For some insane reason, he wanted to impress her the same way she awed and impressed him, and that only confused him more.

…

Thank God this night was over.

Over the last three hours, Ella had stitched up three head wounds, treated two others with butterfly bandages, and cleaned up an assortment of other injuries. Luckily, none had been severe enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, even though some of guys had been downright gruesome as they were brought back to her area.

Blood was part of her job, she was used to it, but knowing that fighting had inflicted every one of the injuries she’d treated had taken its toll on her tonight. Not to mention the fights she’d forced herself to watch between patients. After her panic episode, she’d been determined to stand there and see what was in front of her and not get caught up in her past. Unfortunately, she’d kept slipping into her nightmare and having to fight her way back to the present.

The end result was complete and utter exhaustion, both mentally and physically. The physical she could deal with. The mental just beat her down, and she hated feeling like that.

She finished sterilizing the room, making sure everything was disinfected, and that any used instruments were placed in hazardous material containers. The cousins had supplied her with everything she’d needed to do what they referred to as simple procedures. She even had Lidocaine.

As she backed out of the room, she flipped off the light then closed the door. The only light left was dim emergency lights. So many shadows. So many places to hide. Her stomach twisted hard as her heart began to pound. At least right now, there was some light. Once she got outside, it would be complete blackness. God, she didn’t want to walk to her car. There was an unnatural silence after all the yelling. She was alone. No one was here—including the cousins.

They’d come in about forty-five minutes after she’d finished checking out the Goliath Lance had fought and tried to hand her a wad of cash. She’d refused it. She wasn’t taking any money from this place. They’d merely shrugged and said their goodbyes. She hadn’t been shocked that they’d leave a woman out here in the middle of nowhere by herself, and as much as she hadn’t wanted to be left alone, she wasn’t going to ask them to stay.

Ella jiggled the handle to make sure the door was locked then turned around.

“Thank God. You took for fucking ever.”

At the sudden masculine voice, she screamed and jerked her head in the direction it came from, slapping a hand over her heart. Lance was leaning back on one of the metal chairs, arms crossed over his chest.

“Don’t do that.” She leaned over, placing her hands on her knees, and took in a long, slow breath. She was real close to passing out from the fright.

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” he said and jumped to his feet. “I thought you knew I was out here.”

“Well, I didn’t,” she snapped. “I thought I was alone.”

Lance laid his hand on her back and rubbed up and down her spine. The motion soothed her, and she became more aware of Lance touching her than she was of her surroundings. The masculine, woodsy scent of his cologne wrapped around her—she closed her eyes and inhaled.

As she straightened, she noticed his incredulous look. “You actually think I’d leave you here by yourself? Damn, woman. That says a lot about what you think about me.”

“Oh, chill out. I’ve been closed off in my own little world for the last hour. Nothing against you, you big baby.”

A sudden grin came to his face, and her heart fluttered. So much for hoping this whole McNealy business would stem her attraction to him. It seemed she was fighting in every aspect of her life right now, her past, present, and future. God, it was draining.

She started walking toward the exit. Lance’s steps echoed behind her before they caught up.

“I watched your fight,” she said, needing to focus on something she could control, like their topic of conversation.

“What’d you think?”

Naughty things. Watching Lance in the ring had been the only time she hadn’t veered off into her past. Everything about him had held her captivated—his body, his moves, his confidence. She’d found it all incredibly hot. Hotter than she really should have. But only she needed to know that. “I remembered our conversation about size difference from a few days ago and wondered how were you doing it.”

“I used his size against him.”

That grabbed her attention. She stopped and faced him. “How? I want to be able to do that.”

Brows furrowed, he studied her so intently she had to keep from fidgeting.
Stop trying to figure me out, Lance, and answer the question.

“There’s a difference between what I went up against and what you go up against, Kelsey. Someone who outweighs you can still have amazing speed. Someone who outweighs me is not as flexible. That’s why most heavyweight fights rely on stand-up. They wrestle, but when it comes to Brazilian jiu-jitsu, it’s rare a heavyweight has a good ground game. There are a few, but not many.”

“That makes sense.” Not that she liked the answer. Watching Lance go up against Kelvin had reminded her so much of her going against Randy. She’d thought,
hoped
, Lance had some pointers he could teach her. She turned to start walking again, but Lance latched on to her upper arm, stopping her. She turned her face toward him. Concerned confusion etched his features.

“Why are you so focused on size difference, Kelsey?”

Shit. She swallowed. Lance had probably earned the right to know her motivation—at least some of it. The last thing she wanted was to talk about her past, especially not after the emotional wringer she’d been through tonight. “It’s intriguing, don’t you think? A person going up against, and then defeating, someone they shouldn’t be able to. I saw the reaction from the crowd. You were favored to lose.”

“I was.”

“But you didn’t.” She shrugged nonchalantly and hoped her blithe tone relieved his concerns for now. “That’s intriguing. Now, though, I just want to get home.”

Without another word, she opened the door beside the closed bay doors and strode into the parking lot and complete darkness. When she’d arrived earlier, the place had been bright from the lights inside the warehouse and the headlights from the cars. Now there wasn’t even a streetlamp to chase away the night. Hell, there wasn’t even a moon.

The crunch of the gravel underneath their feet and the chirp of crickets in the distance were the only sounds. Besides Lance, how far away was the nearest person?

When they neared her car, she pressed the unlock button on her car keys. The clicking boomed in the silence. She stopped at the driver’s side, opened the door to allow the light from the interior to brighten the area, then faced Lance. Despite the shadows darkening portions of the face, she could still make out his perplexed expression. So her explanation hadn’t fooled him. Damn it. It probably hadn’t helped that he’d also witnessed her in the midst of a panic attack. Double damn it.

“Thank you for staying,” she said. “This would’ve been creepy by myself.”

He reached for a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. Her breathing hitched tight in her lungs. Need built inside her, about to combust out of control. She wanted to feel his touch. Wanted him. It didn’t seem to matter how involved he was with the cousins. Nothing doused the attraction she had to this man.

As he tucked the hair behind her ear, the feel of his fingers sliding across her scalp sent electrical shocks spiraling downward into a soft, pleasant throb. God, the desire was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

It scared the hell out of her.

She started to get into the car, but was stopped by his hand slipping into the hair at her nape. Desire made her nipples hard, her body pulse to life. Her gaze latched on to his mouth as he lowered his head. She wanted this. She accepted this. Couldn’t wait to feel his lips against hers.