Tap Out (23 page)

Chapter Seventeen

CUT MAN: The person in a fight most likely to break your heart

Three different drug tests, two nights in a jail on the outskirts of Las Vegas, and one wild story fabricated with his brother’s help, and Caden was released without facing a single charge.

Caden had woven the first part of his story exactly as it had happened. How he found the bag of pills in the trunk. How he thought about dumping them or turning them in to local police, but had instead called the only cop he trusted—his brother.

Bracken had assumed complete responsibility by giving the excuse that his baby brother was doing him a favor by transporting evidence in the form of the duffel bag stuffed with steroids to him. He’d had covered for him just like he’d always done.

Though Caden didn’t doubt for a second that Bracken would have to answer for his lie. Fuck, if he’d only picked up the goddamn phone, returned his calls, Caden would have made sure he hadn’t been kept in the dark.

Or “fucking blindsided,” as Bracken had quietly, but emphatically, put it.

The fact that his brother was a credible Nevada DPS narcotics detective helped. And, in typical Bracken style, he’d turned the whole situation around to one that was mutually beneficial. Caden’s brother saw this as a way into the underbelly of ultimate fighting, where rumor had it that illicit drugs—stuff worse than steroids, even—were being sold like hard candy. Headquarters had been pestering him to make a bust, and fast. Had him deep undercover for good part of the year. For the most part, they ignored his wild card ways because he produced results.

Until Internal Affairs pulled rank, threatening to pull him from his assignment and tie him to a desk job while they’d reviewed his too-numerous-to-count Code of Conduct violations. “Fuck-all politics. A slap on the hand for breaking the rules,” he’d informed Caden. Bracken at a desk job was like putting a bull in a flower shop.

Man, if Internal Affairs caught wind of how far Bracken had just bent the rules on his behalf...

“Shit, wish I’d taken your calls. Couldn’t.” A stream of muttered curses followed, as his brother finished signing some paperwork.

Caden rolled his eyes. Bracken’s curses were his hugs. He didn’t know how to be soft.
Soft
wasn’t a word in the Kelly brothers’ vocabulary. Soft was the equivalent of death. And, if there had ever been any softness, it had vanished when the news came that Mikey had been killed in action. Caden would take Bracken’s kind of mothering any day.

“Goddamn paperwork.”

He grinned. Every officer in the precinct was probably thankful his brother was still on the streets and not one cubicle over. His brother’s hard ballbusting ways were notorious. No wonder his sergeant had been so easily convinced of this plan.

Opportunity had come knocking with the appearance of the duffel bag. Bracken was headed to Tetnus with him, posing as a biker interested in becoming a fighter. Ironic, because if anyone could knock him around, it was Bracken. Caden would save him some time by providing him easy access to the behind-the-scenes shit—the locker room, the sparring facilities set up for practices, and anywhere else he’d need to infiltrate. With any luck, he’d make the biggest drug bust to hit Vegas in years.

The assholes involved with ruining his sport were going to have to deal with Bracken’s kind of justice.

Bottom line—Caden had inadvertently provided the narcotics division with a lead in toward a bigger bust. Bracken was raring to go. And Caden was still in line to fight.

He studied his brother while he finished the last of the paperwork.

Although the same height, Bracken had at least forty pounds on him. All muscle, even his neck was thick, the size of a small man’s leg. He was darker, with jet black hair that hung ragged about his face. A matching beard gave him a wild, sinister look. And his demeanor was more somber than the T-shirt and jeans he wore in spite of the sweltering heat.

“We’re gonna have a long fucking talk on the way into Vegas, bro.” Bracken ground out, interrupting his thoughts. “Shit, good thing Serge has a hard-on for having his crew be the ones to beat the Feds in making a major drug bust. That, or he’s so fed up with my shit, he’d do practically anything to get me off his back, and miles away from here.”

Caden snorted, knowing the truth was probably a bit of both. “So? Let’s bolt. How many forms do you have to fill out when nothing has really happened yet, besides me showing up with the duffel bag?”

Bracken stood and grabbed the stack from his desk. “One too many. Follow me.”

After a quick stop at the front desk, where Bracken tossed the pile of papers onto the chair, they headed out into the blistering midafternoon heat.

A new day. A new start. With no one the wiser, not even the press.

Except for the people who really mattered. Except, the one person who mattered the most.

Sophie.

Caden grimaced. She hadn’t said a word to the media. No on-air appearances recounting what went down. No public statement to the press. No private calls. Nothing. He hadn’t heard a peep from her.

Calling her a groupie after what had gone down...shit. He’d humiliated her in front of a state trooper. He was lucky his mug wasn’t plastered on every news channel from Vegas to New York.

What did he expect?

He wasn’t sure anymore. There was something about her that just did it for him. Big time. Unlike any other woman, she was the whole package.

So much time had been wasted. Tetnus wasn’t about the money. It was about him, and his fucking neurosis. Winning the championship bout was his way of moving on. Proving to himself, once and for all, that the fucked-up kid who’d been abused and passed on from family to family was in the best shape of his life. Mentally and physically.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image of Sophie’s shining eyes, bright with laughter from their word play. He got such a kick out of her—
being
with her, leaving her those videos...was she watching them now, wondering if it was all a lie?

Wants and needs
,
sometimes they’re not the same beast
, he reminded himself. A future with Sophie just wasn’t gonna happen.

His future was fighting. Fortunately for him, Tetnus was still on.

“First it’s baseball. Then, basketball. And now MMA. What are athletes saying, that hard work doesn’t count? Pop a pill so an unnatural Superman-like strength will win you the titles and glory? Everyone’s looking for a shortcut. I’m going to end up watching golf, or something, if this keeps up,” Bracken grumbled, as they headed back to the precinct parking lot.

Though a huge fan of golf himself, Caden didn’t disagree. It pissed him off that the playing ground wasn’t level, and that guys put all sorts of shit into their bodies. The exact opposite of sportsmanlike conduct. But less obvious, more devious. It all boiled down to winning, no matter what the consequences. Great message for today’s youth.

His brother whistled low, breaking the silence. “Man, Caden, you’ve got style. That is some sweet ride, bro.”

“Glad I’m leaving it in good hands. Sweetened the pot with your sergeant by agreeing he’d keep the Aston for a week—though he did seem thrilled to get you out on a case and out of his hair. To have been a fly on the precinct wall while you were confined to that cubicle...” He took out his cell phone to make the necessary arrangements through Harold.

A jingling noise made him look to his right. The keys to the Aston swung from his brother’s pointed finger. “Need a bit of sweetness in my own damn pot.” Without missing a beat, he unlocked the car and settled down into the driver’s seat.

Caden arched an eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut. Moving around the car, he climbed in.

Seconds later, they were en route to Vegas.

“As much as I’m going to enjoy bringing these fuckhead drug pushers down, there’s something else I need you to do,” Bracken commented softly, breaking the silence. “You’ve come this far. Something for yourself, more than for me.”

“Yeah. I’m all ears.” Caden played it off, yet mentally prepared for a well-deserved reprimand. Things could have flipped and gone bad, for both of them, and all because of him.

Bracken turned his way and his lips rose into something that closely resembled a smile. “Win that motherfucking championship.”

* * *

The biggest sinner alive had at long last arrived in Sin City. He’d check into the MGM Grand last night, two nights behind schedule. Or so Sal had informed Sophie earlier this morning. Terrific. Just the kind of lying cheat she didn’t want to see around the hotel. Another reason to revisit her plan and stay at a more affordable place, somewhere off the strip and as far away from Caden Kelly as possible.

Sophie had been battling with her conscience ever since Caden had been hauled off in the police car. Her journalistic-minded side screamed
inside scoop
. To go rogue, report the story and get herself on every network station, every news channel around the globe.

Performance-enhancing drugs seemed to be the scandalous flavor of the year, from cyclists to baseball players alike. It would stand to reason that a few mixed martial arts fighters had also be benefiting from a quick fix.

Jaysin Bouvine had been holding three identical duffel bags
, her reporter instincts reminded her,
and I have it on tape.

Caden wasn’t acting alone in this.

She bit her lip, wondering at her surprise. Bit down harder, thinking about what a silly fool she’d been, falling in love with a handsome-faced liar.

For some unknown reason, the police had released him. Plus, he was still on the list of fighters vying for Tetnus. Sal had squeezed the list through, his curiosity apparent even within the inch of space created before she’d shut the door on his busybody ways.

Deep down, she was thankful knowing Caden wasn’t stewing away in jail. On the surface, she felt like taking a bullhorn to the Vegas Boulevard and revealing to the world what a dishonest, heart-trashing liar he was.

But she’d kept
her
lips shut.

Sal had been pretty darn persistent in prodding her with questions, like a dog on the scent of some hopelessly wounded animal. The series of knocks on her hotel room door confirmed it. Sal wasn’t going to leave her be. Two visits this morning had been two too many.

“Brought someone with me to cheer you up,” the old-timer announced, entering the room and taking a long look around. “Jeez, did your surly personality cause the maids to bail on you this morning?”

Sophie tugged her complimentary MGM robe tighter, and with surly eyes, noted how Anthony had followed Sal into her room. The look on his face said that he’d watched
The Hangover
one too many times—it was like he expected a tiger to jump out at him. Heck, she wished one might, and put an end to her worrying about paying for this room, with little choice but to use the dirty drug money Caden had given her. She’d contacted Pittsburgh Trust, but they wanted her there in person and with two forms of ID. She felt like kicking herself for making a stink about their weak identity theft protection policies. Clearly, progress had been made.

Both men turned and stared at her, appalled. It was evident in the way they eyed her from her messy, knot-haired head to her bare toes.

“What the hell happened to her?” Anthony demanded, as if she weren’t in the room and the subject of his concerned amusement.

“Dunno. Won’t tell me a thing, but I think Caden’s to blame. Pulled his typical M.O.O.”

Anthony stepped forward, kindly intending to offer her a consolatory hug. She dodged him, ducking under his arm and moving over to the window. Tugging the curtains open, the room filled with light so quickly, she blinked.
Darn
,
that hurt.

“Wanna know how many women he’s slept with? Too many to—”

“Not particularly. Don’t say another word, Sal.”

Anthony chimed in. “What kind of question is that? No woman wants to hear about her, uh, boyfriend’s sexcapades. And Caden, man, he’s a force to be reckoned with.”

It took the sound of a heavy wrought iron lamp rolling across the tiled portion of the floor for both men to shut the hell up. She stared, making sure her message was clear—end of discussion. Almost.

“For the record, he isn’t, and will never be, my boyfriend.”

Seconds passed. Then, Sal softly stated, “Looks like you need one.” His head turned and his gaze shifted around the room once more.

“What? I’ve made it this far on my own...”

“A friend, I’m talking about. Like good ole Sal here.” He patted his stomach.

Sophie snorted, indelicately. “Yeah, well you know the expression. With friends like you...”

Sal bent and scooped up a pillow from the floor. “Told you she was full of sass.” Moving to the sofa, he replaced the pillow and sat down. He patted the cushion next to him. “Sit. Anthony wants to fill you in on what’s happening downstairs with the Tetnus preparations.”

“If you still care,” Anthony added.

Care?
She frowned. A weaker woman would have rolled over and booked a flight back to Pittsburgh. Not Sophie. Not now. Not when she’d been a teen, questioning her decision to tattle on the creep who’d tried to take away her innocence. Tattle—yeah, right. That’s what the local media and the good town folk of Hawley had called it.

They’d turned on her. How dare she accuse their wealthiest—and only—philanthropist of attempted rape. As if the fingerprints on her neck and breasts didn’t matter. Money...now, that is what counted. The pain of their betrayal still hurt. Something Sophie knew how to deal with. Or so she’d thought, until Caden came along and put a different kind of hurting on her. The broken hearted kind.

She’d found the strength to survive Hawley, and that same strength would pull her through this.

Sophie Morelle wasn’t a quitter—she’d just taken a hiatus to regroup. Besides, it’d given her time to think about other things, namely that jerk Jaysin and what his duffel bags full of drugs meant. Just like any good investigative reporter, she was going to get to the bottom of it all. Including or excluding Caden’s involvement.