Sneak Attack (Tapped Out 2)

“Seeing’s important, don’t you think?”

“So’s eating. And talking.” I thought of Mia and couldn’t help the smile. Damn that woman. “And kissing.”

And other things I wouldn’t mention but craved from merely the thought.

“Speaking of kissing, you’re a wee bit more cheerful than you were when you walked out. I can’t imagine how that occurred, since you walked out with a snarling—”

“Hey, watch it. She’s my snarler.”

“My condolences.” Evie dangled her arms between her knees. “So should you thank me for getting lucky?”

“Nah. You’d be surprised, we managed to have sex before you ever showed up. Speaking of showing up,” I said, making her laugh at my usage of her conversational segue, “tell me more about that scar and why you’re in my gym. In America, even.”

“Blimey, you ask a lot of questions.”

I looped my arms around one of my knees. “We’re a comprehensive gym.”

“Guess so.”

“I can’t help you without your history.”

“Help me? I don’t need help. I need a good trainer, someone who can take me back to the level I was at when I got hurt and then past it. I want to get back on top.”

On top of what? Underground fighting? Professional? She didn’t seem too forthcoming but my Google Fu would kick the ass of her reluctance. Assuming there was any information on her to be found. “Okay. We can do that. First I need some background, then we’ll—”

“Pardon me for saying so, but from what I read here while you were emptying your stones,” she waved her phone, “I’m not sure a guy who lost his last fight to some wet behind the ears fighter then quit at twenty-three is exactly what I’m looking for, skill-wise.”

Laughter rumbled through my chest. “Oh yeah, you and Mia are either going to be best friends or kill each other.”

“Best friends? Hardly.” She sniffed. “I already have a best friend and she’d chew up and spit out your girl.”

Amused by her, I itched my side. Even through my shirt, I felt the claw marks from Mia’s ride last night. “You can have more than one.”

“Nah. In general, girls are bitches.”

“So are men.”

“True enough. But men know where to draw the line. Bros before hoes.” She shrugged. “Besides, I don’t need more people interfering in my life with their well-meaning advice. Bad enough my brother—” She fell short, shook her head. “Never mind.”

A fairly recent injury, extensive rehab, serious attitude problem, women issues, brother battles. This one was a full bag of what the fuck. A smart guy would put her in for a new trainer and sign up for someone without an iceberg on her shoulder.

Me, I enjoyed challenges. Especially ones who’d taken a punch or a kick to the face like that and come back for more.

“I got hurt last year.” I dug the tape out of my pants pocket and started wrapping my knuckles. She’d want to spar when we were done talking. I could almost feel the energy and aggression pouring off her lithe frame.

“Yes, I know. That’s why you left.” She hid her disgust under a thin layer of civility. Very thin.

“No, that’s not why I left. Didn’t have a damn thing to do with it, actually.” I wiggled my fingers and tightened the tape. “I left because I don’t have a killer instinct.” Ignoring her sound of derision, I continued. “Oh, I can put it on in the ring. I think my fight record proves that. But the grind took a toll. Not because my body couldn’t hack it, but because my mind wasn’t in it to win it anymore. Eventually the cage bars were all I could see and I wanted out.”

“So you expect me to believe that orbital fracture by that punk kid didn’t have anything to do with it?”

“That punk kid has almost an unbeaten record. He’s almost the same age as I am. And that fracture was the best fucking thing that ever happened to me. It woke me up.” Second best, I amended silently, lifting my head. “I wasn’t too scared to fight. I was tired of fighting because I was scared.”

“Okay, seriously, what kind of trainer are you? You look like you have stones under those track pants but there are absolutely no men I know in mixed martial arts who say—”

“Talk about my stones once more and I’m gonna start thinking you’re sweet on them.”

She frowned. “I might’ve been, if they didn’t bear the mark of Jaws.”