Shadowboxer (Tapped Out 1)

I’d already been at Vinnie’s since three-thirty. Watching the game replays, crunching peanuts, sipping my beer. Yet I wasn’t in any hurry to leave. Besides, I didn’t trust her to follow through on her word to come to my apartment.

“Give me a dinner menu.” I quirked a brow at her huff of breath. “I’ll wait.”

Chapter Seven

Mia

I couldn’t believe he stuck around.

Everything I knew about Fox Knox indicated he had a lot of patience in the ring and very little elsewhere. He didn’t go through an elaborate pre-fight routine like I did. His training seemed hit-or-miss. I’d heard he didn’t even watch his opponent’s matches anymore. People said he was slowing down and spacing out his bouts while he figured out what he wanted to do next. I figured he was just getting bored.

I didn’t even want to think about his reputation with women. The local fast food joint had a number served. He probably had a number on his bedpost of those who’d served him.

The guy was cynical, just as I was. Whether that was a new condition or a permanent personality trait, I didn’t know. Fighting me would be a new challenge. And if he took it as a joke, as something not worthy of his time, I’d beat him with even less trouble. I didn’t mind being the long shot. I’d been that before and I’d survived. I’d survive Fox too.

I’d probably be the butt of plenty of jokes for daring to challenge a local legend, but no one could dispute that I had a good fight record. I trained relentlessly, watched my diet with rare exceptions, and kept my mind on the cage at all times. My skills in the martial arts were as honed as my body. But I was still a woman, and that put me at a disadvantage with someone who topped me in both height and weight. And experience.

If Fox consented to fight me, I didn’t know of many people who would back me, other than those curious to see if he’d really take me on—or to see if I’d get killed. The underdog position always brought out a few sentimentalists.

As for the noise our match would generate? I couldn’t imagine. Women’s fights didn’t get nearly the notice that the guys’ fights did. I could keep going toe-to-toe with other female fighters, but I’d met up with most of the locals already, and we didn’t get much fresh blood. Lack of interest equaled lack of opportunity to make serious dough.

The men, on the other hand, lured in fighters from all over. Despite New York being the last remaining state that hadn’t legalized MMA, we had an enthusiastic fan base. Enthusiasm meant money. We staged matches in a variety of converted warehouses and occasionally in a gym or Karate school on a rotating basis in the boroughs. The one thing all the locations had in common was enough room to accommodate the crowd. They were also in relatively less densely populated areas that could be kept secret. Or else the neighbors were too busy guarding their own illegal activities to care about ours.

In terms of sheer spectacle, Fox taking on a woman no-holds-barred would be the ultimate. I’d heard of underground leagues that bragged of women-on-men fighting, but I’d never come across any here. Fox’s rep would be on the line. Not that he would ever believe he could lose. He was too cocky. I could use that to my advantage.

Now I just had to convince him to say yes.

I kept my head down throughout my shift, not wanting to attract any more attention after that beer bottle breaking incident. I was already on borrowed time with Carmine. Normally, I didn’t flirt much with customers, even when I was hoping to set up a hookup after my shift. And I wasn’t doing that anymore. I’d been hitting on that guy so hard for just one reason, and it wasn’t to increase my tips.

I’d wanted to make Fox jealous.

Which was pure insanity. I wasn’t the type of girl to play guys against each another. I wouldn’t even know how. Why I’d believed Fox would care if I bent over and blew that guy right in the bar, I didn’t know. It was pure instinct. The instincts I usually operated from kept me alive. These were entirely different, and I didn’t know what to make of them.

Add in the lust from earlier and I was a full bag of crazy that would likely explode all over Fox the instant we were alone.

But he’d wanted to meet privately, so we would. I’d have to give him back his coat, though I hoped he’d give me something even more precious. Once I had his agreement to fight me, I could get my mind back where it belonged—in the cage.

The closer it grew to quitting time the more nervous I became. Being on my feet all day had made me achy and sore and I wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a mug of cocoa. My bruises and assorted wounds from yesterday had started making themselves known again. Being sociable rated dead last on my To Do list. As usual.

On the upside, I’d collected a bunch of tips and Shell and I were back in our usual groove. Constance, the bartender with the spiky hair who’d served Fox, was long gone, and I’d been glad to see her go. She hated me and I never understood why. I kept to myself and stayed out of trouble—well, most of the time. I tried to save my tendency to antagonize people for the place where I could make money from aggression.

At ten, I went into the back room and put the communal share of my tips into the cup on Carmine’s desk. Luckily he hadn’t witnessed my earlier meltdown. Then I pulled on Fox’s jacket, already missing it, figuring I could at least stay warm until we reached his place. The temperatures were hovering below freezing outside. I’d sneaked out on my break, not to smoke but to watch what Fox was up to when he couldn’t see me.

Naturally, he’d noticed me watching him through the window while he leaned his ripped body across a pool table and flawlessly banked a shot. My heart had been racing ever since.

I grabbed my purse then flipped my braid out from under his jacket while I hip-checked the pass-through. Part of me hoped he’d decided to take off. He could always demand his coat back another day. I didn’t get why he hadn’t yet. Somehow he’d gotten locked into this bizarre push-and-pull game we were playing too.

I made it all the way to the door of the bar before I saw him waiting outside. Hands tucked in his jeans, head tipped back, long cords of his neck highlighted by the milky moonlight. His thin Henley shirt clung to his abs and billowed slightly in the frosty breeze. He had to be a block of ice.

Guilt cut through me. Nice move, Mia. Freeze the guy to death. I hurried outside, about to remove his coat and hand it over when his soft command made me fall still.

“Don’t.”

Swallowing deeply, I fought the shiver that climbed up my spine. His shirt was every bit as blue as his eyes. I didn’t want to meet those eyes, but it was better than staring at the broad planes of his torso. The fabric revealed everything. He could’ve won a damn T-shirt contest without it being wet. Who needed big boobs when you had an eight-pack?

“I’m okay. I live nearby. You should take this back.” Suddenly, wearing Fox’s coat seemed way too intimate, like I’d slipped on his boxers or something. I was already crossing boundaries if we were going to fight. And we had to. That had been my end game for so long that I refused to give up on it now. I shrugged the jacket over my shoulders. “Here, please—”

&nb