Knock Out (Worth the Fight) (25 page)

Logan folded her arms across her body as if they might keep her heart from falling out of her chest. She thought about the other conversations they’d had, and Keane’s brutal withdrawal afterward. She knew the direction this conversation was headed. “Jimmy?”

“Yep, fuckin’ Jimmy.”

“Okay, you’ve got me. His name has come up so many times, I feel like I know him like a brother...” Logan’s voice wavered. Something in Stevie’s manner made the hair on her arms stand up.

“You got to understand...it’s bad.”

“Okay. But you’ve got to understand. I love him.”

Stevie smiled, fleetingly. “Keane’s gonna kick my ass for telling you this. But hell, I’ve been trying to help him since the funeral.” He shook his head as if in disbelief and added, almost to himself, “And, here he goes, and falls in love, despite the load of shit he’s bearing.”

Logan wanted to believe him, hoping her feelings weren’t one-sided, and that Stevie was right—that Keane loved her.

“I know him well, know he’s struggling. I don’t want to see him push you away. Not when I think you’re the only thing keeping him going...”

“Please, just tell me.” So far, the media was busy recapping the fight. Most of the crowd was refreshing their hot dog and beer purchases. Jerry had run off to who knows where. All while Logan’s world was crashing around her and she didn’t even know why.

“Keane killed Jimmy. At least, that’s what he thinks.”

An invisible sucker punch knocked the air out of her. “What?”

“Keane and Jimmy fought in a championship bout sponsored by the Marines. You already know Keane was a trainer for MMA fighters. Jimmy had been his sparring partner for God knows how many years. The Marines wanted a morale-boosting event, something to take the guys’ minds off of car bombs and Afghani rebels.” Stevie ran a hand over his cheek, deep in thought, before continuing, “Keane won with a K.O.—”

“He knocked him out? That isn’t so surprising.”

“Yeah, guess not. It’s what MMA fighters aim to do, right? Typical.”

“And...” she pressed on anxiously.

“Jimmy was out, and I mean O-U-T, for a few minutes. But when he came to, he refused to see a medic or go to the unit. I remember Keane cursing out him for being so headstrong.”

“How did Jimmy die? Did it have something to do with Keane knocking him out? Or was he killed in the line of duty? I don’t get it.”

“After Keane and I finished our last tour and headed home for good, Jimmy was deployed to the Afghanistan/Pakistan border. During an attack, he had a freaking brain aneurysm. He was the main cover for his unit as they moved across an abandoned terrorist encampment. Turns out, it wasn’t abandoned. He barely got a round out of the machine gun before the aneurysm happened.”

Logan bit her lip hard, tasting blood. Oh my God. Poor Jimmy. And...Keane.

“Most of his unit was slaughtered,” Stevie continued. “When an investigation into the matter revealed the cause of his death, it made the military papers. I knew Keane would see it, and that he’d totally lose it. Fuck, they were best friends. Then, I got a hold of him. He could barely speak as he spilled his guts. Afterward, he closed up. Shut me out. End of discussion. The guilt was—
is
—eating him up inside.”

Logan squeezed her arms tighter. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. She thought about Keane’s reluctance to fight. The expression on his face every time he did so. His anguish over knocking that kid, Smitty, out. The misery in his eyes when he hovered over the German. PTSD wasn’t the only issue Keane needed help addressing. It was the lesser of the two evils. “Keane genuinely believes—”

“—he killed Jimmy
and
the men in his unit.”

Chapter Twenty-One

GRAPPLING: When fighters take the action down to the mat

Logan was waiting for Keane when he came out of the locker room. She had more determination than one of his former drill sergeants, prodding, hassling and trying to wear him down during interrogation training. Big Sarge’s goal had been to make Keane crack and spill the beans. Hell, if Logan dropped the L-bomb again, shouting
I
love you
so loudly the arena shook, she might just succeed at accomplishing what Sarge had failed so miserably at doing.

“Bleeding leotards, your nose!”

Keane ignored her and tried brushing past. She blocked his path. No tame missus here, she had reason to fear him yet she planted her Nikes firmly on the concrete floor and stood her ground.

He loved the way her eyes flashed green when she was riled up. The way her hair unfurled from its ponytail and framed her lovely face. How her lithe, graceful movements reflected her self-discipline, the same type of control he’d trained for himself, first as a Marine, then as a fighter.

Her luscious curves jiggled underneath her conservative purple halter top. Her hands found her hips. She cocked her head and stared him down. Man, Logan was a force to be reckoned with. There wasn’t a lot he didn’t love about her. He just couldn’t go there, for both their sakes.

“When are you going to stop punishing yourself?” she demanded.

“In case you missed it, the German ate the mat. I’d say I punished
him
.”

A strand of blond hair fell into her face. She blew it away. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Stevie told me
everything
, Keane. Even about Jimmy.”

A brutal, mental ambush—that’s what this was. Wait until he got his hands around Stevie’s neck. She
knew
.

Yet, the sudden rush of anger didn’t come. Nor did the urge to beat up a locker or lay a kick down on someone. Instead, he felt empty. Dropping her back home on her stoop like that should have been her red flag. A clean break.
Nice knowing you
. Don’t need you around to witness how my life’s fucked up way beyond hope. He pressed his lips together, stepped around her and heard her sigh.

“Okay, you don’t have to say anything. All I want you to know is you don’t have to deal with this alone. I’m here for you. So is Stevie. And, professional help is available. But I can’t lead a horse to water. This is something you’re going to have to want.”

“All I
want
is to get this fuckin’ fight over with. Later.” He feinted left, then dodged her on the right. Out of his peripheral vision, he caught her flinch. Softly, he added, “Got a dance school to fund.”

“Please...I don’t want you to fight. I’m good, really. A few weeks at Boscov’s and I’ll have my studio. This isn’t healthy, Keane. I know it, Stevie knows it, you know it. Forget about Tetnus and Jerry.”

Yeah
,
like that was gonna happen.
What did she think all the booze, pills and women had been for? To
forget
. The word was like a slow poison gnawing away at him. He couldn’t fuckin’ forget, that was the point. Not Jimmy. Not...her.

Shit, he couldn’t seem to shake thinking about her: the way she looked in the mornings, with her hair all rumpled and sexy as hell; how damned good she felt curled up next to him asleep; how every time he set eyes on her, something shifted inside of him. Logan and Jimmy—they’d both found a way to crawl beneath his thick skin and mess with his freakin’ soul. But, no way was Logan going to suffer the same fate as Jimmy.

“I know you’re a private man. How you hate being harassed about anything, by Stevie or me. I’ll say it once more, and that’s it. You need expert advice, from a professional like Dr. Felter. There’s no shame in it. Just contact her, okay? Talk to her and let her help you. Calling her is the first step toward figuring stuff out. I’ll
wait
for you.”

“Nothing to figure out. So, don’t waste your time.”

He lengthened his stride, yet only made it a few steps down the corridor before she shouted his name. Although he should have ignored her, he stopped and turned around.

“Don’t you think Jimmy would want you to be happy? Have a life? To
care?
”

Her words pierced him like daggers. But it was the hurt in her tone that really dug deep.

Fuck, hurting people was the only thing he was good at.

He shoved back the feelings swelling up in him, and instead focused on the sexy sway of her hips as she narrowed the distance between them. Hips that said she was full of purpose. Damn if Logan wasn’t looking for a way to make him tap out.

He rolled his neck and acted as if he didn’t give a shit.

“Was it all a lie? What happened between us in the cable car? Did I get it all wrong?”

She had to go there, and bring up the cable car. His throat tightened and he fought for control. Man, it had to be written all over his face. He was gonna lose this battle, big time.

She stepped closer, unaware of how precarious a situation she was in. “You are not fighting again tonight, or any other night. Got it?” Poking him in the chest with a finger, she continued, “I’m going to go tell Jerry right now that you quit.”

“No,” he stated.
What the hell was she thinking?
He’d fought a goddamn kid for her!
He wasn’t turning back now.
This was their shit-ass plan
,
after all.

“Yes. You owe me something, Keane,” she rasped.

What the fuck—stop the fight? Was she trying to emotionally bribe him? “No can do. I’m finishing what’s been started.” Man, her words got to him, like she was asking him for something he didn’t want to—
couldn’t
—give her. He’d fight, all right. And she’d get that money for her school and go on with her life.

Without him.

Her expression changed, softened. A warning as clear as a bullhorn. A fighter should always be prepared for a jab, yet he saw it coming a second too late. “For the record, no matter what happens from this moment on, I still love you.”

She pivoted on her Nikes, and stalked away. His attention was drawn to her freakin’ boy shorts, and instantly, he felt like he’d been hit with a surprise cross punch, full force. One that knocked the wind out of him.

In bold sequined letters, the word
Boom
ran diagonally down her left cheek. A horizontal dash crossed at her waist. On her right cheek
Yay’s
was diagonally written so the two words combined into a V shape right above the curve of her ass. Boom-Yay’s. Running straight across the bottom of both buns was the word
Girl
. The print was small—hell, her ass was small. But when the cameramen caught sight of her glittering butt, the Jumbotrons would make the words pop out bolder than any billboard.
Boom-Yay’s Girl
.

There it was. His feelings printed on her damned shorts for the world to see. Might as well add the word
love
to the sparkling mess. Plaster it smack on her ass in brilliant sequined emotions.

He rubbed his fingers over his temples.
Would the pain of loving
,
then losing
,
someone ever go away?

He had no choice.

Sprinting down the corridor, he caught up with her and scooped her up into his arms.

“What? Keane...”

“This changes nothing, Logan,” he barked, hoarsely. Stalking down the corridor, he stopped in front of the ladies’ locker room and kicked the door open.

“Oh no, you don’t. I have to find Jerry,” she firmly stated, catching on to his intentions.

“Chloe!” he bellowed.

“This is not going to happen. Don’t think my friend is going to go all Benedict Arnold on me. Octagon Girls stick together, right Chloe?”

He’d heard the other woman gasp from behind the lockers. “Get over here, Chloe!”

Logan squirmed in his arms but he held on tight.

Chloe appeared from around the corner, breathless.

“Get Sal. Fast.” Logan kicked him in the shins.

The tension inside him was unbearable, the kind only satisfied by getting physical—pounding some flesh, hard. Fast. For as long as it took to calm the fuck down. To forget.

“Chloe,” Logan warned beneath clenched teeth. “Remember whose side you’re on. Think about who took care of you when that bottle of Stoli grabbed hold of your senses. Who gave you tips for overcoming your nerves, without a liquid diet. A friend who—”

Keane bounced her in his arms.

Logan clawed at him.

As Chloe sprinted out of the locker room, he heard her say, “Be back in a flash.”

Setting Logan down gently, he rooted her in place with his hands so she couldn’t follow her ditsy cohort. Much like how her words rooted themselves in a place deep inside him. Logan, with her
I
love you
. Shit.

“Promise me you won’t fight.”

“This was our agreement and I’m sticking with it.”

“Fuck the agreement.”

His hands almost fell off her hips at the rawness of her curse. “It’s for the best.”

“What? Locking me inside a locker room so I can’t watch you get hurt. Physically and emotionally? I can’t let you do this.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He grabbed a soft blond lock and rubbed it between his fingers before smoothing it back behind her ear. Everything about her felt nice. His chest tightened. “It’s for your own good.”

“What is?”

Shit. Didn’t she realize he was doing this for him and
her?

“
I
love you.
No matter what.
”

Who was he kidding? He was a mixed bag of unresolved issues. But, he’d deal with them on his own terms. He’d do this, for his sanity. And for her sake.

“Everything.”

* * *

“I know you can hear me, Sal!” Logan pounded on the locker room door and paused for her unsolicited bodyguard’s response. Grandpa Romeo was uncharacteristically quiet. “Come on, Sal. This is important. I’ve got to talk to Jerry.”

She kicked the door, then pressed her forehead against it. In a low voice, she asked, “Sal, do you see the way Keane is after every bout, whether he dominates his opponent or not? He’s not euphoric like Jaysin Bouvine or any of the other fighters. Fighting isn’t healthy for him. I can’t tell you all the specifics, but you have to let me out of here.”

“Nope. Jerry will fire you for sure. Keane said as much.”

So at least he was out there. “What do you mean ‘nope’? Nope as in you don’t notice how miserable Keane gets after a bout, or nope as in you’re keeping me hostage here in the ladies’ locker room?”

“Sorry, Logan. Wha’d you say? My lady friend’s pissed the bouts aren’t over yet. Just texting her back.”

Twist my tights.
At this rate, she’d never get out of here in time.

“Keane says you’ve lost your marbles. What are you thinking, stopping the fight? The way Keane handled the German, the model’s gonna be a piece of cake.” He sounded distracted, as if Keane’s wins were an afterthought.

Something slammed against the door and Logan jumped back in alarm. “Sal?”

Sal muttered from the other side. “Flowers and chocolate weren’t enough for her.”

“Please let me out. Don’t make me call the police,” she lied, knowing her cell phone was dead.

The door shook once again, vibrating loudly on its hinges. She almost missed Sal’s next comment. “She broke up with me for a pizza delivery boy. Says his hours of work suit her needs better.”

Had Grandpa Romeo been listening to anything she’d been saying? Maybe her approach was all wrong. “Let me see the text, Sal. I’m sure you’re misreading it.”

“‘Don’t call or text me again. Antonio gives better...’ humph.” It sounded like something was caught in his throat.

Poor Grandpa Romeo. Looking for love in all the wrong places. Not that Logan was an expert on the subject, given the way Keane’d dropped her faster than an overcooked Polish kielbasa.
Wait a minute
... “Sal, I’ll make a deal with you.”

No response came from the other side of the door. She hoped he was listening. “If you unlock the door and let me out of here, I’ll fix you up with a lovely woman. Someone more your speed. Someone who’ll crave your
humph
.”

“Your sister, maybe?” Sal sounded hopeful.

Logan felt hopeful, herself. “Ah, not
exactly
. But I can promise you, there’s no way she’ll ever dump you for an Italian dough boy. And, I know for a fact that her bra size is much larger than mine.”

The door opened so fast, if Logan weren’t so nimble, she would have fallen through it.

“Deal.” Grandpa Romeo grinned at her. “So what’s her number?”

* * *

The excited chatter of the MMA fans calmed Logan’s racing heart. She’d made it out of the locker room, down the corridor and to the arena in time. The fighters hadn’t yet been announced.

Standing on her toes, she scanned the crowd until she spotted Chloe’s dark hair by the cage. She seemed uncharacteristically calm and collected. Guess there was only room for one Octagon Girl freak-out per bout.

Logan saw Stevie standing over by Keane’s corner. From this distance, he was a speck among the masses. Maybe Stevie could talk some sense into Keane?

Jerry was over by the broadcasters’ table, animatedly chatting up the reporters and trying to drum up more financing for his fighters headed to Tetnus.
Damn.
Damn.
Damn
. Horrible timing. What she had to say to him was best done in private—for so many reasons. Who knew what Jerry would do if she confronted him now? A horrible, way-too-public cuss-fest was more than likely.

The same helpless feeling she’d had the moment her ankle snapped returned. Just like then, she struggled for some sense of control.

She desperately needed a Plan B.

Adjusting her top, she worked her way down the ramp. Closer to Stevie. Closer to where Keane would be.

“Hey, Luscious.” She waved in the general direction of the fan who’d called her name. When her gaze swung back around, she noticed Sophie Morelle standing by the cage at the end of the ramp. The reporter hadn’t seen her yet, she was too busy scribbling in her notebook. Alone. Intent on recording whatever it was inside the big black book. Presenting a prime opportunity for Logan to approach her and set the record straight about Pierre.