Sneak Attack (18 page)

I shut my eyes. That was one of the worst parts of the whole ordeal. Coming back and having to tell people what had happened. It was like being victimized all over again. But silence was worse, because then people wondered why you didn’t “bounce back” faster. Why you looked mostly the same on the outside, but on the inside, all the parts and pieces had been moved around to form a new whole.

She’d made it. She’d lived. Hers was a success story. They even wrote a followup article, a few years later, when she was starting college and engaged to a nice young man. She was excited about the future, she said, and she’d come a long way.

The only problem was, the road that she was on—that I was on—was one without end. We could come a long way forever and never reach the end. Every day we started at the beginning all over again.

Time disappeared while I searched for more on Lainey Peterson. More proof that she’d made it. She hadn’t turned on herself and erased all the progress she’d made. Somewhere she was living with her nice young man, making love and babies. Going to work and school, her life utterly boring and normal.

But I couldn’t find anything else about Lainey. She’d vanished again, for a different reason this time. The routine of normal life had absorbed her. I hoped.

God, I hoped.

There were other Laineys. Different stories, different details. Too many kids to count. All of them struggling, trying to find a way to make sense of what made none.

What would my story say, after my life was over? That I’d fought hard, and lost? Or that I’d won, in my own little corner of the world, keeping to myself, holding on to what was left of my sanity with an iron fist?

My story wasn’t over yet. I still had time to change it.

The buzzer rang and I startled, nearly upending the laptop. A hurried check of my phone showed that I had spent almost an hour and a half lost in the stories I’d found. I had to get ready for work soon.

The fight never stopped. At least when I was in the ring I didn’t have to pretend otherwise.

Crossing the room, I tried to shake off all that I’d read. “Who is it?” I said into the intercom.

“Lorenzo. Let me up.”

I stilled. I didn’t even breathe. What the hell was he doing here?

I debated my options. Refuse him entry? Call Tray? Go down and kick his ass in the vestibule?

Or let him up and trust that I could handle myself by myself, whatever happened.

Victim
. Fuck that shit.

After releasing the door, I waited by mine and had it open the instant I heard footsteps in the hall. Though he was dressed in unrelieved black from his suit to his shirt to his wing tips, he wore a jaunty red tie that was about as incongruous as a clown’s red nose.

“Mia.” He tipped his head at me and walked into my apartment.

I followed him inside and shut the door behind us, but I kept my hand on the knob. “What are you doing here?”

“Always so full of manners.” He walked around the apartment, his gaze drifting from wall to table to floor. Examining my things in a way that felt horribly intrusive, in spite of the fact that he only looked, never physically laid a hand on anything. “You know, normally it’s customary to offer a guest a beverage. Perhaps a scone.”

I crossed my arms. I wasn’t nearly as unaffected as I seemed when it came to this man and his brethren, but I’d be damned if I acted cowed. No one would put me in a defensive position again, least of all a man in wingtips. “I don’t serve fucking scones.”

He stopped, pivoted to face me. His upper lip curled, and I noticed the small cut bisecting it.

Courtesy of my fist, thank you very much.

“You have a filthy mouth. Such a shame too, because under the grit and street grime I think you’d be quite attractive.”

“Yeah, well, the feeling isn’t mutual, and there’s not a speck of grit on you. So let’s get to the point, shall we? Why are you here?”

He placed his hands on the back of the sofa where Carly usually slept, and the hairs on the back of my neck trembled. It felt like he was touching her.
Me
.

His smile widened as if he sensed my discomfort. “I’m pleased to hear you agreed to fight Friday night.”

“I didn’t realize I had much choice.”

“You don’t, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t expect you to make things difficult.” His long, blunt-tipped fingers pressed into the cushions. “That’s your usual stock and trade, isn’t it, Ms. Anderson?”

“Aww, that wounds me. From Mia to Ms. Anderson. Makes me feel like we’re not friends.”

His gaze cooled considerably, which was a minor feat since he’d been in serious competition with an ice block from the get. “We aren’t friends. You are a tool I will use to make money, like many such tools I’ve used before and will use again. But because I’m a very generous man, I’m prepared to offer you a sizeable sum as well, if you continue to be so agreeable.”

“Oh, are you now?” I pretended to study my nails. “Too bad it turns out that I’ve come into some money recently.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s so. So whatever you intend to toss my way, don’t bother. I don’t need your cash.”

“I imagine not, what with profiting from a young girl’s sorrow.”

My stomach clenched at the gleam in his eyes. I didn’t know what he was getting at, but judging from the curveballs he’d already tossed my way, I knew I should duck.

But I didn’t—couldn’t—because I’m me. And standing strong in the face of whatever baseball bat was heading for my face was the only safety I had.

“Meaning what, exactly?”

He picked up one of Carly’s bright pink throw pillows and caressed it in a way that made my already uneasy stomach roil even harder. He fingered the tassels as he looked at me from under his heavy dark brow. “Does the name Olivia Latimer mean anything to you?”

It took approximately one second for the name Olivia to pierce my consciousness again before I fumbled for a seat on the arm of the nearest chair. I bumped my hip into an end table on the way but barely felt it. “Olivia who?”

“Olivia Latimer. She’s a beautiful girl. Blonde, blue-eyed. Truly lovely. We made contact because we have similar aims, though our motives are quite different. I’ll admit, she needed more guidance than I expected and unfortunately, she’s not nearly as bloodthirsty as her father. She’s also a stubborn sort.” His mouth ticked upward. “You’d understand that, Mia, wouldn’t you?”

My mind was reeling, his words jumbling together into a knot I couldn’t untangle. At least not with him standing there, smiling.

“You see, your gain is her loss, and she’s had to live a much different life since you and her father met. More accurately, since her father took an inappropriate interest in you. Though who’s to say what is inappropriate?” He shifted toward me, his smile growing so slowly it was like watching a snake slither closer on the grass. It crept toward you millimeter by millimeter, until it struck. “Or who lured who?”

“Olivia was Darren’s daughter,” I whispered, shutting my eyes on the image that popped into my head with the force of an anvil.

A picture in an antique frame on a dresser, a girl in a white frilly dress. Her first Communion.

That’s my beautiful girl. She’s just a bit younger than you. I bet the two of you could be friends.

I’d blocked it out, as I’d blocked out so much else I couldn’t stand to remember. And now what I’d forgotten would make me bleed.

“Was. Is. Darren’s dead by your hand, but Olivia is very much alive.”

“She’s been calling me. It’s her. Or you. Or both of you.” My eyes blinked open. “The heavy bag in my office. She did that.”

“Now, now, accusations will help nothing. But what would help is to reach a détente of sorts, and all it will take is acquiescence on your part to do as I ask. If you don’t need the money, perhaps your pretty little sister might. She’s in school, isn’t she?” He set down the throw pillow and picked up the framed photo of Carly that sat on the end table, her arms full of cooking utensils as she grinned for the camera. It had been taken a few days after we’d moved into this apartment and she’d gotten to stock her own kitchen for the first time. “The International Culinary Institute. Is that right?”

The lump in my throat hardened until I couldn’t breathe past it, never mind speak. Carly. He would never get near my sister. I’d die first.

“Cat got your tongue? That’s too bad. But don’t worry, I’m comfortable doing all the speaking.” He traced his fingertip over the photo and the two pictures blurred behind my eyes.

Carly’s picture in the present, Olivia’s picture in the past.

Two beautiful blonde girls, so innocent and sweet.

“I have to admit, I had high hopes for you. Now that women’s MMA is making more of a splash, I believed you’d be a fine jewel in my crown. I followed your career for a while. I guess like your Darren, I had a bit of an obsession with you myself.”

“My Darren.” I shot to my feet. “My fucking Darren. What the hell is wrong with you? I was fourteen. Fourteen, you sick bastard.” Fists clenched, I stalked around the couch. His spine straightened, but he didn’t turn to face me. “I hadn’t even gotten my period yet. I’d barely been kissed. And you think you can pervert—”

“What I think doesn’t matter. What the rest of the world does is a different story.” He shifted slightly, his midnight gaze slamming against mine. “A tool, Mia. That’s what you are to me. I want you to fight, and I don’t care what it takes to make you.” He set down Carly’s picture. “Once, I’d had high hopes. I thought you’d be different. But you’re retired now, back for just one night. That is enough to fulfill my aims.”

“Which are? Spill it out. We’re losing fucking daylight and I have more important things to do than to listen to you spout off.”

His mouth tightened and he reached up to smooth down his perfectly unwrinkled tie. “You’re not very grateful, considering the generous concession I made after Friday night’s unfortunate encounter. You don’t realize how quickly you could be taken care of.”

I spread my arms wide. “Here I am. Take me out.”

His chuckle took me by surprise. That it was accompanied by the flashing of his lethal eyes didn’t. “You fascinate me, Amelia Anderson. And fascination is a weakness. Darren learned that. As will Trayherne.”

The second curdle of real fear curled in my stomach. First for Carly, then Tray. I wasn’t worried for myself. If I died, I’d go down swinging.

I’d never be passive again.

“Deal with me,” I said steadily, dropping my hands to my sides when all I wanted to do was wrap them around his throat. “You want something? I’m right here.”

“Finally, we reach an understanding.” He smiled again, all teeth. “All it took was mention of Trayherne. And that sweet little sister of yours.”

I said nothing. Just glared.

“It’s very simple. Friday night, you’ll be fighting Evelyn Pierce. She’s quite an impressive fighter, and she’s looking to make her mark in the States after a devastating injury. She’s committed to a long career, and we feel she can go far. We want her to win.”

For the third time that day, laughter bubbled out of me at the worst time. But this time I didn’t bother trying to check it. In fact, I laughed right in his face while he clicked his jaw and stared me down as if his eyes alone could kill.

“Wow, that was good.” I wiped away my tears of mirth. “I almost thought you were suggesting I throw the fight.” In a heartbeat, I sobered. “Because that’s not going to happen. If I’m breathing, I’m fighting to win.”

He didn’t so much as blink. “You’re breathing…now.”

“See, that threat doesn’t work on me. Not sure if you’re aware, but I met Tray because I wanted to fight him. Lots of people thought I had a death wish. Our weight difference alone should be enough to ensure I couldn’t win. But I didn’t care. Losing wasn’t an option. And if I didn’t come out the other side…well, crazy motherfucker.” I raised my arms again. “What can I say?”

“You aren’t afraid for yourself, that much is clear.” He took out his handkerchief and buffed the sunglasses he’d hooked to his jacket. “You do have weaknesses. Don’t kid yourself, because you’re not fooling me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t have weaknesses. I said you can threaten my—what are you doing?” I demanded as he walked around the couch to pick up my laptop.

He read the screen silently for a moment, and I cursed at myself for not shutting the browser window before I got up to answer the door. “Missing girls. Isn’t that interesting?” He pivoted to smile at me, blandly. “I imagine for someone like you, that’s your biggest fear. Someone you love turning up missing.”

“Get out.” I was shaking now, I was so enraged. And afraid, way down deep where I couldn’t even breathe around the terror. “Get the fuck out of my apartment before I show you the door myself.”

“Lovely seeing you again, Mia.” He strolled to the door and waved over his shoulder. “Or is it Amelia?”

One of Carly’s discarded flip flops slapped against the door just as it closed.

Sinking to the floor, I pressed my face to my knees. When the trembles finally subsided what felt like hours later, I rose and got ready for work.

T
hree days of straight training
. Three days of intense workouts, courtesy of myself and Slater, putting Mia through her paces. By late Wednesday evening, she’d sworn so much at Slater that he approached her hands-up every time—but he didn’t go easy on her. Ever.

Me, she just whaled on at every opportunity. And ho boy, my dick enjoyed it.

In theory anyway, since sex was a non-issue with my mother bunking down at the apartment. She was still there. Every time I walked in, I expected her to be gone. Or, worse, for my father to be there, making his case like the good attorney he was.

Bruises heal. I won’t do it again. If only you didn’t make me so mad.

But my father didn’t come around, and my mother claimed to be looking for a job—and her own apartment. Neither Mia and I were putting a rush on that, for obvious reasons. Carly was being incredible about the whole situation, encouraging my mom to watch TV with her at night and doing crazy things like whipping up face masks and girl stuff for them to do. My mom had always wanted a daughter, and I guess Carly needed mom time.

Even for a jaded jerk like me¸ it was nice to see.

It helped to know that my mom was occupied some of the time when Mia and I were at the gym, our new home for this week. My girl had never been a slouch when it came to her regime, but she’d been on warp speed the past few days. I’d never seen her so focused. Intense seemed like about three levels below her current level of insanity.

At first I’d been worried that maybe she couldn’t get ready this fast, even if Evie wasn’t up to her usual speed, which remained to be seen. I wasn’t worried anymore. Judging from the way Mia was attacking the heavy bag in the corner, kicking it like a demon until
my
calves burned in sympathy, I was pretty sure she could beat the devil herself.

“Think she ever gets tired?” Slater asked out of the corner of his mouth, passing me a bottle of his liquid herbal green shit. Probably more spinach. I drank it anyway because I was thirsty, and it was free.

“No. She’s relentless.”

Mia did a flying back kick at the bag and Slater whistled under his breath. “Man, what I could’ve done with her if I’d been in her corner all those years instead of yours.”

I set down Slater’s smoothie crap and mopped my brow with the towel notched at my hip. I’d been working Mia for the better part of three hours, and we’d grappled for at least forty minutes of that. We’d only stopped when she’d noticed me having to hit the ibuprofen for my headache, despite Slater claiming I’d sprained my dick.

Since then, she’d been solo freestyling with the bag. Hard. Without stopping. I’d offered her a water and she’d practically bitten me.

And not in the sexy way.

“She really wants to kill that Evie chick, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, but there’s more to it.” Watching Mia execute another flying punch and kick combination, I wondered exactly what. Not that wanting to win wasn’t enough for her, especially after months away from the scene when she knew people would be counting her out.

“More like what?” Slater picked up the bottle I wasn’t drinking from and took a healthy swig. “Those bastards she’s fighting for?”

Must be serious if my buddy was whipping out the swears. “She’s not fighting
for
anyone but herself.”

“Yeah, but the whole price on her head crap. That’s pretty serious motivation, dontcha think?”

“You know Mia. Do you really think she’s scared?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “If something scares her, it’s not someone threatening to take her out. That’s like the opening bell to round one.” I leaned back on my elbows, studying her form the way I would any competitor. Judging strengths, evaluating weaknesses. In her case, I couldn’t find any.

Not that she was perfect. Hell no. She still led with her calves, and she relied a bit too much on the same jabs and combinations. But she was lightning quick and had the kind of endurance that most fighters would’ve begged, borrowed and stole to get. Her ground game could’ve been better, and would improve the more she practiced. She’d compensated by working on her arm bar and her throws until I had no doubt that she do some serious harm to anyone who faced her in the ring.

I almost felt a little sorry for Evie, even if she had told me to go fuck myself—in her own inimitable British way—when I’d explained I was handing her training off to Timmins.

Slater pulled out a baggie of trail mix and popped a handful in his mouth. “So what does scare her?”

“Something happening to Carly,” I said without hesitation.

As soon as the words were out, I sat up, my eyes narrowing. A smart man learned to trust his spidey sense when dealing with Mia Anderson. I had a feeling something more was going on here than Mia wanting to prove to everyone that she was in the same fighting shape she’d been in last winter.

That would be too easy. Too usual.

She’d been suspiciously quiet all week, and I’d chalked it up to her laser-like focus and oh, finding out she was a millionaire. But there was more. I didn’t know what more, but I would find out.

As soon as I got Slater out of this training room and locked up so we could be alone. Just in case of bloodshed—and/or the usage of non-traditional interrogation tactics.

Either or both was a distinct possibility.

Feigning a yawn, I glanced at my watch. “Wow, look at the time.”

Slater chuckled. “You forget to take your Geritol or something, buddy?”

“No.” I gave him a hard stare. “I’m horny.”

He popped to his feet. “Enough said. I’m outta here.”

“Thanks for all your help the past few days. I appreciate it.
We
appreciate it,” I amended, clapping him on the back.

“You’re welcome. I’m happy to help. It’s been a while. She looks damn good, Fox.”

“Yeah.” I couldn’t keep the pride out of my voice as my gaze returned to Mia one more time. She was like my true north, always pulling me back over and over again. “She’s amazing.”

“I’d say I was jealous, but she’s a bit too much for me.” He grinned. “I need a sweet, quiet, domestic chick.”

“Like Li?” I didn’t even know anything about this girl he was seeing, other than hearts shot out of his ears every time he mentioned her name. I’d suggested we all get together—after the fight, because there could be no regular life until Mia had kicked Evie’s ass—but he’d vetoed it, saying Li was too shy and wasn’t ready to meet “the crew” yet.

I was still trying to figure out what crew he was talking about, especially since she’d been supposedly ready to meet us for dinner last week until she’d fallen ill. Whatever. I had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

He smiled and slung his bag over his shoulder, then reached for his health food shit. God forbid he left any of it behind. “Yeah. She’s incredible. Did I tell you she’s making me a sweater? Out of Irish wool.”

“You don’t wear sweaters. They don’t really work with your boogie board.”

“Winter, dude. Can’t ride the waves all year.”

“True enough.” I had no desire for my girl to make me sweaters, but Slater had always been searching for his one twue wuv in the midst of all the blonde surf babes he collected like trophy wives. In his mind, that included handicrafts and keeping the homefires warm.

Maybe he’d finally found a keeper. He was overdue for one, especially after that awkward situation with him moving in with his brother’s girl. Said brother’s girl had gone right back to Liam the moment he’d shown up again after medically retiring from the SEALs. They were currently in the midst of domestic bliss, and Slater was on his own again. Or he had been until Li had suddenly come onto the scene.

“I’m happy for you, man.” I clapped him on the back one more time to hurry him along. “Now go home and bang your girl while I bang mine.”

My best friend blushed. Actually blushed. “Oh, we’re not there yet.”

I cast a distracted glance at Mia. She was working on her uppercut now, and sweat gleamed on every visible inch of her skin.

My gaze snagged on her abs, and the way they rippled over her yoga pants with every punch. Christ. My cock reared up against my shorts, my erection making its presence known.

Soon, pal. Almost time.

If I had my way, I’d in inside her within five. Maybe four, depending how fast I could pin her. She had to get tired eventually.

“Not where yet?” I replied, not really caring.

Leave. Please. Now.

Slater took a swig from his bottle. “You know, doing it. We’re not there yet.”

I stood up so fast I nearly lost my footing. “Say what?”

“It’s not a requirement for a good relationship, Fox,” he snapped, showing a rare hint of temper. Like seriously rare. I think the last time he’d gotten annoyed at me was when I’d slipped caffeine powder into his berry blend protein drink. That was three years ago.

“Says who? Dr. Phil?”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why? No one’s here but Mia, and she doesn’t care who you screw. Or don’t.”

“It’s not just about screwing.”

“Giving me a relationship 101 lecture, son? You, who can’t keep a girl for three weeks straight?”

Slater’s face turned so red I thought he’d popped a blood vessel. I immediately felt bad. What the hell was I being a dick to him for? So what if I was stressed about this fight, and whatever Mia was hiding now. That didn’t give me a right to act like a fuckwit. “Fuck, man, I didn’t mean—”

“Seriously?” Mia stomped over and threw her towel at me. “Do you think now is the time for this, Fox?”

It was never good when she brought out the
Fox
stuff. My chances of getting laid were dwindling rapidly.

Thanks, Slater.

“Don’t bother. I’m leaving.”

“If you’d done that three minutes ago, it would’ve saved me acting like a douche.” I sighed and held out a hand. “I’m sorry. Ignore me, okay? You’ve been awesome this week.”

“I’m awesome every week.”

“Yeah, okay. Fine. You are.”

He finally gave in and fistbumped me then glanced at Mia. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“You ain’t the only one, brother.”

“Hey, hey.” I tossed her towel back at her and she caught it one-handed without sparing me a glance. “I have my uses.”

“And all of them occur when you’re not speaking.”

Slater snorted. “I like this girl.”

“Like? You love me. Just like I love you.” It was still surprising to watch Mia offer easy affection to anyone who wasn’t Carly, but she and Slater were tight. She gave him a quick hug and ruffled his hair like a parent with a kid then lightly shoved him away. “We’ll see you Friday night?”

“Not tomorrow?”

“Nah, I’m taking the night off.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that. Actually, I was almost certain speech had failed me entirely.

Mia’s dreams had finally come true.

“You’re in great shape. Might as well use the night to rest. Or…other,” he said with a sly look at me that proved he wasn’t holding a grudge.

That was Slater, decent to a fault. I had to try harder not to abuse his good nature, especially now that I knew his sac had to be painfully full.

“Other is off the table. You know how it goes. Gotta save up before a fight.” The grin she shot me was pure evil.

Evidently she was as good at reading me as I was reading her. Or else she knew how riled up it got me to fight with her.

Hell, who was I kidding? Of course she knew. She’d probably already caught sight of my wood and was inwardly cackling about shutting me down.

“Oh hell no. You know damn well that only applies to men.”

She cocked a hip. “Sexism will get you the same place as being nasty to Slater. Denial Boulevard.”

I scowled after her as she returned to the heavy bag and resumed her workout. “Maybe I need a chick who knits,” I muttered.

“Heard that,” she called, kicking the bag hard enough to send it careening on its chains.

“Can I marry her?” Slater wondered aloud.

“No. You can leave now. Scram.”

He sniffed. “I know where I’m not wanted.”

I nearly made a crack about not being wanted in his own bed either, but somehow managed to restrain myself.

Man, if Mia really did intend to make me wait, I’d be snarling by tomorrow afternoon, forget Friday. I wasn’t good with the whole self-denial thing.

As soon as Slater had headed out, I walked over to lock the door. It was late enough that no one should need to use this particular training room. Besides, two others were available. And also, I didn’t really give a shit.

Mia was going to come clean, and then she was going to come.

She didn’t pay attention to me at first. A man with a lesser ego might get prickly at how completely she became ensnared in whatever she was doing, shutting out her awareness of me on a dime. I could never quite manage the same. But I found her skills and sense of focus incredibly sexy. I was one of the few people on the planet who could influence her in any way.

And I could—and would—make her beg.

Circling the heavy bag she continued to attack, I watched her bend and kick and punch. The wraps around her hands were starting to come undone from her repeated strikes. She was on the verge of sweating right through her white tank top, and there was no missing her red bra beneath. She didn’t think about stuff like that. There was no artifice with her. Nothing but a determined, driven, strong as fuck woman.

“You going to stand there looking at me all night or are we going to fight?” Her breathing barely wavered around the question. She was in insanely good shape.

Those thighs flexing into her kicks were about to be wrapped around mine. And not because we were going to grapple in any way but naked.

“I could look at you forever. I intend to.” I grabbed the bag and she gave it a frustrated punch before spinning away to brace her hands on her knees. Her shoulders were shaking, and not just from exertion. Something was riding her back hard, and I needed to know what.

I came up behind her and set my hands on her hips, deliberately keeping my erection from brushing the perfectly round swells of her ass. We’d try this straight first, no matter how much my dick protested.