“I . . . I . . . uh, went to see that fight promoter . . . the one Connor mentioned . . .”
Jesus, fuck! His jaw clenched and he forced a calming breath. “What happened?”
“I kicked the guy . . . It was hard . . . He didn’t stand back up . . .” Silence.
Shit. He rubbed his forehead. “Have you called a lawyer yet?”
“They . . . gave . . . me one call . . . I didn’t know who else . . .” His voice broke.
Tyson had never heard his friend sound so desperate. He couldn’t believe this. Dane was the last guy he’d expect to call him from a police station. He’d often jokingly told his guys he’d bail them out once for anything, after that they were on their own. He’d never thought anyone would need to take him up on it, especially Dane. “No, it’s okay. I’m glad you called me. Just don’t talk to anyone until I get there okay,” he said.
Silence.
“Dane!”
“I killed him . . .”
“Stop saying that. Do not say that to anyone.” Damn it. If Connor was standing in front of him at that moment, there would be another fatal incident that evening. “I’ll be there soon, okay?”
“I’m sorry, Tyson . . .”
“I’ll be there soon.”
“What’s going on?” Walker asked, stuffing his gear into his bag.
“Dane’s in trouble. He’s down at the station.”
Walker’s eyes clouded. “Is he okay?”
Tyson shook his head. “I don’t think so. He sounds like a mess.” Rightly so. “He took a no-holds-barred fight . . . his opponent didn’t make it out of the cage.” He refused to say Dane had killed someone. They didn’t know what had actually happened yet and he would be on his fighter’s side no matter what.
“Damn. I heard him say something about a fight tonight. I thought he was going to watch it, not compete.” He threw his bag over his shoulder as Tyson grabbed his motorcycle helmet and keys.
“Anyway, I have to get down there.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Are you sure, man? Don’t you have to go home to Grace?”
“I’ll call her on the way to the station.”
Tyson nodded, relieved at the offer. “Thanks, man.” He wasn’t sure he could deal with this alone, and Walker had dropped out of law school. He was the perfect guy in Dane’s corner that evening. Though Tyson wasn’t sure there was anything they could do for their fellow fighter.
* * *
The sound of her doorbell just after midnight wasn’t a surprise as Tyson had texted moments before to ask if he could come over. She hadn’t been sleeping. She’d been lying awake thinking about him anyway. It had been three days since she’d seen him. He hadn’t called or texted until now. He was pushing her away and she had no more fight in her. She’d chased him as far as she could go. If he didn’t want her, she had to accept that.
So she’d been surprised and conflicted when his name appeared on her cell phone that evening.
But his exhausted, defeated look when she opened the door told her she’d done the right thing letting him come over. Whatever was happening between them didn’t matter at that moment. He needed her. Reaching toward him, she hugged him.
His arms went around her and he rested his forehead against hers. They stood silent in her open doorway for a long moment, until a cool November wind blew across her bare feet. “Come in,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the kitchen. “Do you want something?”
He shook his head, reaching for her once more as he sat.
She sat on his lap and he kissed her bare shoulder. “So, how is Dane?” She’d seen the news about the unsanctioned fight and the tragedy on the late-night news just moments before Tyson had texted. She’d assumed him being here had something to do with it.
He didn’t seem surprised that she knew. “A complete mess,” he said quietly.
“So, he really did kill a guy in the octagon?”
He nodded.
Training for the role of a fighter, she never really understood the risks involved, the chances these guys took with their own lives or their opponents’ whenever they stepped inside the cage.
“It was a legal head kick. It was just one of those freak accidents.” He shook his head.
She kissed his forehead, wishing there was something she could do or say to help. “So, he’s not in any kind of trouble?”
“Walker says he will probably get a minimum sentence of three months for the unsanctioned fight . . . as long as they don’t find any drugs in his system.”
She pulled away and looked at him. “Will they?”
“I wish I knew for sure, but I’m not sure I even know my fighter anymore. Of all the dumb things . . .” His grip on her tightened. “Fucking Connor.”
“I know it’s easier to blame your brother for this, but Dane is a big boy. He made the wrong decision to compete by himself,” she said softly, hugging him closer. She couldn’t imagine the torment he must be battling at the moment—his fighter and friend in trouble and little he could do about it. And her heart ached for Dane, such a great guy—the last person on earth anyone would believe would be involved in this tragedy.
He buried his face against her, breathing deeply, his eyes closed. Then his hand slid below the edge of her tank top, sliding up her stomach slowly but with a determined desperation to cup her bare right breast.
She moaned when his thumb flicked across her nipple and she kissed the side of his head, his cheek, his lips.
Her gaze locked with his and in one quick motion, he stood and lifted her.
When he placed her on her bed moments later and they silently removed their clothing, her heart ached for him more than her body did. His fighters were like family to him. They were the only thing he cared about. Not being able to help one of them must be tearing him apart.
She lifted the bedsheet and he slid in next to her, moving close, his gaze locked with hers as he wrapped his arms tight around her. He kissed her gently, and the look in his eyes was one she didn’t recognize.
She kissed him again with more fervor than ever before, wanting him to know she was there for him, wanting him to take comfort in her.
He rolled them until his body hovered above hers. His forearms resting on either side of her head on the pillow. She ran her hands slowly down over his shoulders, along his strong, tattoo-covered arms and around the muscles in his back, holding his gorgeous body to hers. Clinging to it with a new desperation. He was so close, but she knew his heart was still out of reach and she struggled to find a way to convince him it would be safe with her. That he could trust her, let go of his insecurity about them together, and be with her—fully, unconditionally.
Moving away from her, his hands slid over her stomach, her ribs and over her breasts. She watched him as his gaze followed the path of his hands . . . and when it met her eyes once more, her breath caught.
This time was different.
This time he needed her more than he wanted her. The intensity of the look made her tremble and she reached for him again, drawing him closer, spreading her legs wider as he settled between them, his thick thighs pushing against hers.
He touched her face—the rough, callused, fighter hands a stark contrast to the soft, gentle caress. Then he trailed them the length of her body and gripped her hips as he thrust forward, his own hips pushing into her inner thighs as she raised her legs to wrap them around him.
He buried his head into her neck, kissing her, and shivers chased over her body. The need in his touch, in his kiss, in his gaze made her want to give him everything he couldn’t ask for. “Make love to me, Tyson,” she whispered.
His body froze for an instant and she thought maybe her words had broken the spell, but when he lifted his head to look at her, his gaze remained locked with hers. There was no more hiding his affection, his passion, or his love. She saw it all there in his expression as his body merged with hers and he entered her over and over, until she was clinging to him, as desperate for release as he was.