Long minutes later, I eventually draw back. Nick’s lips are swollen, and the uncertainty has been replaced by an arrogant daze. I did that. A fierce satisfaction fills me at the sight. “Now, go.”
“Go? Are you serious?” He reaches for me again.
I smirk as I avoid his touch knowing I’ll melt like warm butter in his hands. “I believe you have some more emails to read, Champ.”
“There’s something you need to know before I do.”
“Okay.”
His face turns serious. “I want more from this than just your body, Maris. I didn’t wait all these years just for that.”
Whoa. Pressing a hand against my lower stomach, I whisper, “Then we’re going to need to talk, Nick. No more of this for a while.”
“We will. I’ll let you know when I’m done with the emails.” Without another word, he turns away. Sliding into Rainey’s car, he starts the engine. I turn and run into the garage.
When I’m inside, I race up to the bedroom and grab Jed’s journal. I frantically flip through the pages until I find the passage I read the other night. When I find it, I read it aloud.
“No man is going to be good enough for Maris, but if Nick ever got his head out of his ass, he might have a chance. The question is, will that happen in this lifetime?”
Flopping back on the bed, I whisper, “I don’t know Jed, but I’m afraid to wish for too many miracles. You know? I still have to clean up the fallout from your interfering meddling as it is.”
Placing the journal on the nightstand, I stand and catch headlights heading down my driveway toward the street.
Damn. He waited until he knew I was safely inside. How am I supposed to handle this kind of sweet from the very devil himself?
Nick
“Damn, he’s a machine.”
“I know. It’s ridiculous to watch.” Oliver wipes the sweat from his brow.
We’re both standing aside as Reece London tackles everything we’ve tossed at him like we just asked him to skip around the school playground. He kept up with my grueling pace during a ten-mile run—a pace I set because I thought it would clear my head from the kiss I shared with Maris the night before. Then when we arrived back at the gym, Reece proceeded to demonstrate his range of motion through a series of stretches and jumps that would make a gymnast weep. As he’s pounding out rep after rep on the free weights, I make a snap decision. “Stop him.”
Oliver frowns. “Why?”
“Because I want to see him in action.”
“The tapes weren’t enough?”
My eyes don’t leave the broad-shouldered young man. “Have you ever wanted back in the cage since you retired, Ollie?”
“For me, the cage was either the gateway to heaven or hell. I love the sport, but I can’t say I miss having my ass kicked regularly. Why?”
“Your boy Reece, he’ll be so damn used to viewing crowds through little octagons, he’ll forget what it’s like not to. Now, let’s get him comfortable with someone who also understands that feeling.” I reach behind my head and tug off my sweat-soaked tank. Toeing off my running shoes and socks, I begin to stretch.
And my soul soars knowing I’m about to fight.
“Ah, fuck. I thought you were kidding when you said you might spar with him.”
“Do I ever kid about these things?”
“Hell, Nick. We’re in Alaska. I figured you might demand a chainsaw challenge to see if you still had those kind of mad skills.” Oliver whistles to get Reece’s attention before I can tell him to kiss my ass.
When the younger man sees me stripped down, ready to do battle, he approaches us with some trepidation. “Mr. Cain? Sir? Are you sure this is such a good idea? I don’t want to hurt you.”
I mock Reece lightly as Oliver begins taping my hands with quick precision. “Son, you’re welcome to try.”
Reece turns to his friend, demanding, “This is some kind of joke. Right? A test?”
I flex my fingers, nodding my approval at my former protege. “Nice job, Ollie. The only test, Reece, is whether you can get over your hang-ups enough to strike first. Trust me, it won’t be as easy as you think.”
I stride away and hop up into the ring. My toes curl into the rubbery softness of the mats while frantic whispers go on behind me. Tuning them out, I bend at the waist and place my hands flat down. With a quick kick, I brace my weight on my arms and begin to press up and down, over and over to warm up the muscles in my shoulders.
Carefully, I lower myself back to a standing position, scooping up the gloves Ollie left there, to find Reece gaping at me. “First strike buys the first round.”
That shakes him from his stupor. “You’re on.” He stalks to the opposite corner and hauls himself in.
“Ollie, head guards?” But Oliver, anticipating me, is already grabbing the necessary protective gear. A black helmet comes sailing in my direction. Quickly sliding it on, I slip in a mouth guard from my pocket and find myself in the zone. I’m ready. Anticipation thrums through my veins. I haven’t felt anything like this since…fuck. Since Maris kissed me last night.
“Ready. Fight!” Oliver calls.
I leap back just as one of Reece’s long legs is about to make contact. “I thought this was going to be a challenge,” he trash-talks.
“Oh, boy. Just you wait.” I feint to the left before striking with my right. It’s a solid hit directly to the kid’s midsection.
“Fuck,” Reece grunts in disbelief.
“First strike,” Oliver calls out.
“You haven’t been fucked yet, kid. That’s later.” Then I stop playing and see if Reece really has what it takes to be a champion because the first step is mental. He has to stop thinking of me like I’m not a threat because I have a decade on him. I can and have taken down guys his age and size. The other thing he needs to start believing is there’s only one champ in the ring. That’s what my mentor taught me all those years ago. It’s what I’ve taught everyone under me who’s fought for the belt.
The thing is, it should no longer be me.
By the time we’re through, I know I’m going to have some impressive bruises. But I also know Oliver wasn’t wrong. Reece London was born to wear the belt.
We’re both dripping with sweat as we spit out our mouth guards. Then a ridiculous grin splits his face. “Did that just happen? Did I seriously kick Nick Cain’s ass?”
I sniff. “You tried, kid. Your ground game needs some major work.” But I give in to his exuberance. “Hell, I’m going to feel that kidney shot later. I just know it.”
Reece starts to laugh. “It was an honor, Mr. Cain. Truly.”
“Make it Nick. No one who works with me calls me ‘Mister’ anything.”
Reece draws in a breath that in turn makes him clutch his ribs from where I landed a series of lightning-fast punches when I had him pinned to the mat earlier. “You’re kidding?”
“Not at all. We’re going to have to discuss travel arrangements, stipend, of course. I assume you don’t have an agent?”