Bones
Fucking hell.
I staggered outside toward my mailbox. The sunlight was so bright it stung my eyes—which was the result of not sleeping for days on end. I preferred Seattle's rainy days. What the hell was this ball of flame in the sky anyway?
I was forced to cover my gaze as I moved my aching body across the lawn, but this gesture was also intended to prevent the rest of the world from seeing me, too. If I could just stay in my little den of depression forever, I would.
I used to be that loud, outgoing bad boy no one wanted to fuck with, but now, ever since the downfall of my booming career—for which I only had myself to blame—I didn't want anyone to even glance my way. I used to love all eyes on me, the screams from the crowd, the female attention… Now I wanted none of that. I wanted to lock myself away, to hide from the rest of the world, without anyone seeing me.
And to make it worse, my head hurt like hell from last night.
As the mailbox swung open, my heart sank and I groaned at a whole wad of unpaid bills. I used to have money to burn. Now—with only a few fights here and there to keep myself afloat—I had close to nothing. Not many people wanted me at an event, and the few fights Lotto managed to get us invited to were barely enough to keep me going. And it wasn't like either of us had enough money to bet on my win to make a difference in the end. I knew I'd win. That wasn't the issue. The issue was no one knew whether I'd throw a fight.
It was a shame my lavish lifestyle had been reduced to such a mediocre one, but this was exactly what I should have expected when I got myself into this mess.
Noticing a car engine getting closer—too close to be going anywhere else other than my house—I spun around and crossed my arms in annoyance. Everyone who knew me well was more than aware they needed to contact me in advance before showing up. Who the fuck would drop in on me unannounced?
I leaned in a little to take in the long, platinum hair of a woman gracing my presence. I tried to ignore the way my body reacted to how attractive she was. A weird fission of electricity coursed through me at the way her curves looked as she got out of the car and approached me.
My bloody angel.
Did the hit to my head last night cause permanent damage, and I was now hallucinating?
Here she was—minus my blood splattered on her.
When she got closer, revealing the longest, sexiest legs I'd ever laid my eyes on, I was hooked. She brushed a wayward hair away from her face to take me in, showing off a gorgeous pair of sparkling blue eyes and a heart-stopping smile. Blue eyes, colorfully tatted skin—a mixture of innocence and edge that created a blend of perfection.
Holy fuck, she was the most beautiful woman I'd seen in a very long time, if not ever.
"Hello?" I asked curiously, closing the distance between us. Why in the hell was she here? How did she find me? Why would she want to find me?
"Hello." Her voice was sultry, nearly hypnotic, which was when my gaze flickered down to her stark pencil skirt and tight black tank. This woman was here for business with her outfit that merged professionalism and rockstar, which meant trouble for me.
"Here to give me your dry-cleaning bill?" I instantly regretted my words, when all she did was smirk. I wasn't a funny man. I had no idea why I tried to be one.
She scanned me from head to toe with those eyes of hers.
"I'm the owner of Smiley's, and I'd like to discuss having you come train at our gym. See if we can get you back in the cage. Form a lucrative partnership."
"Funny," I said with a huff.
"I'm not joking." She frowned and some of the warmth left her face. "This is a serious offer, and I want to discuss a possible contract with you. See if we can work toward getting you in all the top events." She cocked her head with a small smirk. "If you still have what it takes, that is."
"Smiley's is owned by Smiley Dexter." I remembered the bald Irish man with an epic temper, but the skill of a trainer every fighter wanted. He was a legend, and I would have cut off my right testicle to have the man train me. "And cage fighting is beneath the man. He's a boxing legend."
"He's dead," she said evenly. "I'm his daughter and now the owner."
"I'm sorry to hear that. He was a good man." How had I not known that news? But considering how my life had gone to hell, it was explainable.
"He was," she said, not revealing any emotion—or at least any emotion that I could read.
"And you're running his gym by yourself?"
"Freakshow helps me."
I laughed. "Freakshow? Are you kidding me? That psycho doesn't seem like business-running material."
Her eyebrows pinched together. "I disagree."
Picking up on the fact that attacking Freakshow was quickly turning this conversation hostile, it would be wise to change the subject, but something inside of me pressed on. Jealousy maybe? How in the hell did a guy like Freakshow get a girl like Ari?
"And what does Freakshow think about you being here with me?"
Although Freakshow and I had never fought each other, we most certainly walked in the same circle. I knew one thing. Freakshow hated me. But in all fairness, I was pretty sure Freakshow hated everyone.
"I don't think your boyfriend would be happy to know you're here."
Yeah, I was fishing for information. I was assuming she wasn't married simply because she didn't wear a ring. Plus, and maybe I was crazy, but there seemed to have been something between us last night.
A spark. A sizzle. Something.
Ari didn't put off married vibes, but then again… she didn't put off taken vibes at all.
Maybe it was wishful thinking.
"I never said he was my boyfriend. I said he helps me run the gym. And what I do or don't do is not Freakshow's concern."
"So you're single?"
"I didn't say that either."
I smirked. "Complicated?"
She matched my smirk. "Always. I happen to like complicated."
"So do I."
She crossed her arms against her chest and tilted her head to the side just enough that I could see the heart tattoo on her neck again. "Then join my gym. We're all a bunch of complicated people there."
"Do you not know my history?" I shot back quickly. "Do you not know what I did?"
She glanced at her feet before speaking. "You threw a fight, right? Or at least that's what people have accused you of."
Okay, so she had no fucking idea. Maybe she hadn't been in the fighting scene for long, and she didn't know much about what lurked in the shadows. Maybe her daddy had shielded her from everything. Because it felt like the whole damn world, especially people in the fighting world, knew every sordid detail. But if she didn't know, Freakshow sure as fuck did, which made this entire meeting confusing as hell.
"That's the tip of the fucking iceberg," I said, but she shrugged as if it didn't bother her. What the fuck was going on with her gym? She must have been desperate if she was coming to me. "If you don't know the rest, then you really shouldn't be coming to me with talks of contracts. And I find it hard to believe that your friend Freakshow knows you're here, because he knows all about what happened. People want me dead, and my guess is your business partner is one of them."
"First off, Freakshow helps me run my business. Mine." She paused, drew a deep breath. "Tell me," she said, as I tried my best to turn and walk away, but something kept me standing in place. "Make me understand why people either black-balled or put a so-called hit on you."
I hung my head for a second, allowing my hair to fall over my eyes. Did this girl really want to know everything? Should I tell her about the gambling, the fraud, the terrible things I did in the grips of my drug and alcohol addiction? It would only take one conversation with Freakshow to reveal it all anyway, so if she really needed to know that badly, she could find out for herself.
"Look, I'm not the sort of man you want representing your gym. I can assure you of that. And even if I was, I'm not in a position to fight in any of the bigger venues that travel away from Seattle anyway."
"Your past—" she began, but I refused to let her get a word in edgewise.
"I need to look after my father. He needs me." I shook my head, wanting her to understand that this wasn't going to happen no matter how hard she tried. "He's survived cancer twice, and now he can't take care of himself. He needs me here. He needs me to look after him twenty-four seven. I can't take on any other responsibilities. Not now. So, just hop back in your car, and go focus on Freakshow. He can be the fighter you need."
I turned my back on her and started to walk away, but she wasn't about to be deterred. She called out behind me regardless. "If you change your mind, you should come over to work out with the others at the gym on your free time. One free month as my treat. You might actually find Smiley's to be a cool place. Welcoming. And tomorrow we're holding tryouts to fill some holes. I would really like to see what you still have against some real fighters and not just the half-ass fighter you beat last night. I have a feeling even though you may be a bit rusty, that the need to fight against the best is still in you." That little smirk of hers returned. "I could be wrong, though. Maybe you are too out of shape to bother. One of the young guys may beat the shit out of you." She shrugged. "Who knows? But it's up to you if you want to prove you are still the fighter you once were."
She headed back to her car, not giving me the chance to respond unless I wanted to chase her down… which I didn't.
But then I looked at her ass…
She was the most epic cock tease ever.
Fuck me. No…