Shadowboxer (Tapped Out 1)

Knowing I was pissing her off—and enjoying that fact—I gave her an easy smile. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m in her corner, that’s what it is to me. She’s worth your time. You saw that yourself. And that’s two days after she got in a catfight with some shady bitches who’d love nothing more than to get her out of the octagon. They know she’s serious, and they hate her for it.”

“How serious?”

“Enough to do some damage before she gets out of the game.” A fat curl dropped between her eyes and she huffed it away. “You could help her do that faster, if you wanted to.”

I leaned forward on the folding chair I’d been stationed on for the last couple of hours and crushed the water bottle in my fist. Screw the tree huggers. “Is she really getting out? Soon?”

“Well, now, I guess that’s up to you. So what’s it gonna be, Foxy?”

Chapter Eleven

Mia

After my shower, I strode into the gym, struggling with my half zipped bag as I walked. My head was down, so I nearly walked into Kizzy—and Fox.

It was just past noon, and I was due at work at one. Tonight I’d be working the tail end of the lunch shift right through to dinner and beyond. With my extensive training schedule, I usually only worked two ten-hour shifts a week along with a six hour and a four hour. The longer days on my feet wore me out, but I appreciated the tips.

What I didn’t appreciate? Seeing my friend’s guilty expression and knowing she’d been telling my business to the dude I wanted to fight.

We had nothing between us, Fox and me. No friendship, no hot looks, definitely no hotter sex. I intended to keep it that way.

“Kiz?” I grabbed the liter bottle of water I’d left behind and grimaced. My hands had taken a beating today. “My office, please?”

Fox said nothing, just watched us with his fingers loosely linked between his knees and his head cocked. His silence didn’t fool me. I could only imagine what he’d have to say about what he’d witnessed.

I didn’t care about his opinion on my combat skills, outside of him thinking I was a worthy opponent. Let him believe what he wanted. If he continued to underestimate me, I’d win with less effort.

Kizzy joined me near the sports drink machine, the place where we always had our little confabs. I glanced back just long enough to see Fox smirk, then focused on the freckled, heart-shaped face in front of me. The top of Kizzy’s voluminous hair only reached my chin, but she’d kicked a lot of asses from that lower vantage point. Now I was going to do some damage to hers.

“What did you say to him?” I demanded.

Kizzy sighed. “I suggested he father your babies and build you a Barbie castle to live in with his bare hands. That’s okay, right?”

I didn’t want to smile, so I didn’t. “Spill.”

“I just asked if he was going to fight you.” She winced. “And I may have accidentally called you Spyder.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? He’ll never let me live that down.” Now he knew I fought under the name of an common house pest. My cred was growing by the minute.

She pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes skyward. “If you fight him, he’ll hear it announced. Are you two hanging out now or something? I thought this was a one off thing, that he just wanted to see how you move.”

“I’d say that’s accurate.” I sneaked another glance at Fox. Who was staring unabashedly at my ass.

“Are you fucking him?” She slapped my arm so hard that the sound bounced off the walls. “Are you crazy?”

“I don’t fuck random men.” Sucking them, on the other hand… “Especially fighters.”

Her shoulders slouched as she sighed in obvious relief. “He probably has a small dick. All the muscles in use elsewhere.”

“Actually, I think he’s above average.” And now would be a fine time to just stop talking. Really.

Kizzy propped her fists on her hips and glared. “I knew it! You blew him, didn’t you? Did he pay you? That slimy bastard—”

“Shh,” I hissed. “Keep your voice down. I did not blow him.” But I would’ve, if he’d let me.

This was what I got for talking too much to a friend. Going to confession was not my specialty, but now and then, even outcasts slipped up and overshared. The last time Kizzy had spent the night she brought over a bottle of whiskey, and I’d accidentally broken my unspoken rule about not drinking with company. We’d finished off the bottle and heretofore unspilled secrets had flown from my mouth. Not the big ones. Not anything I couldn’t afford to tell.