ChapterOne
Harley
I dodge a punch my half-brother throws at me and wish it was this easy to evade the blows life keeps dealing me lately. Seth is twice my size, but also twelve years older and out of practice. Yeah, he might spar with the fighters who train here at Crown MMA Gym—one of Las Vegas’s premier homes of professional mixed martial arts—but he hasn’t fought in ages. Meanwhile, I’ve been living and breathing muay thai for years, and it shows.
Here in the cage, I have it all together. I can forget about the way my world has crumbled around me and simply exist in the moment. In fact, it’s essential to do so because if I slip out of the present, I might find myself eating one of Seth’s famous straight rights. I smirk as I circle him, looking for a weak point, loving the challenge. Most people don’t understand my passion for fighting. It’s not a typical occupation for a twenty-something woman.
With a quick, practiced motion, I strike, snapping my padded shin out to thud into the inner part of his thigh. He’s slow to react, and his leg starts to buckle beneath him. Knowing he’ll save himself before he hits the floor, I use his distraction against him and ram my knee into his solar plexus.
Bam. Got you.
He recovers before I can take a shot at his head, and wrestles me into a clinch. His arms are like anacondas, so there’s no way I can overpower him, which means I need to either bear it out, or outsmart him.
God, I love this—even when I get a noseful of his sweat-soaked shoulder. I haven’t sparred with Seth since he was a UFC champion. I’ve been out of the country for years, but the time apart hasn’t changed how it feels to let loose with him like this. It’s the way we communicate. The only language we’re both fluent in. And now that I’m here, with his support, I’m beginning to feel like the sun is rising on a new day and perhaps everything will turn out all right.
“Lock me up,” he grunts, ever the coach.
Maneuvering him into the corner, I wind my leg around his so he can’t do anything, and hold on. When the timer shrieks, ending the round, I release him. We bump fists, then I yank one of my gloves off, grab a towel from where it’s hanging over the edge of the cage, and mop my face with it. My hair is coming loose, so I wrangle it back into a ponytail.
“You’re good,” Seth says, his lips pursing as he evaluates me. I wonder what he sees: the baby sister I used to be, or the athlete Thailand turned me into. “But we need to get you grappling sooner rather than later if you’re going to win that eight-man eliminator.”
I nod, acknowledging what we both know: I’m at a significant disadvantage for my big debut. He’s signed me up for my first professional MMA bouts—three in one night. Eight women begin the tournament, and only one emerges as victor. We both want me to be the one left standing, even if our reasons for that differ. He wants the good publicity it’ll bring his gym, while I need a win after the month I’ve had.
The trouble is, all of my professional experience is in muay thai, which is strictly stand-up striking. MMA, with the jiu-jitsu element on the floor, is a completely different beast. That’s okay, though. I’m ready for it. I have nothing but time on my hands to prepare. I uprooted my entire life to move back here, and I don’t even have a bed to call my own. Seth is loaning me his spare room, but to be honest, I’m not sure how often I’ll sleep there. After living on-site at my gym in Thailand, it’ll be hard to move into an apartment. I already miss the sun and warmth. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay. Not after what happened.
“Do five rounds on bags, then we’ll talk through your training plan.”
With that, I’m dismissed. I slip my glove back on and head to one of the heavy bags. After a moment, I feel eyes on my back and turn to find an insanely hot fighter watching me.
Devon.
Even his name is sexy. He sends me a wicked grin, then strips off his shirt and starts punching a bag. His brown abs glisten with sweat and shift beneath his skin like he’s a sleek panther. But men with abs are nothing new to me, and however yummy he is, he looks like trouble. I don’t need any more of that right now. Besides, Seth warned me before I even set foot in the gym, not to hook up with any of his fighters—something about not introducing unnecessary drama—and I know he’s made it clear to them that I’m off-limits too.
Turning back to the bag, I take a moment to scope out its size and shape. It’s newer than the ones I’m used to. Flashier too. Getting into stance, I throw a jab then a cross, and snap my fists back to my chin.Always protect the jaw.Trust me, I learned that lesson fast. I reach out to get a sense of the distance, then back off and slam a kick into it. My shin thumps across the solid fabric, but I hardly feel it. Bags are nothing compared to the dozens of shins that have clashed with my own.
Now that I’m comfortable with the bag, I launch a few combinations. Punches, kicks, knees, elbows. Shortly, the beeper ends the round. I drop to the floor and start doing sit-ups. Not that I have to. The thirty seconds between rounds is technically a break, but I like to make the most of the time I’ve got.
A face appears above me. Dark eyes and a mischievous smile. I continue my sit-ups, ignoring the way my body reacts to the handsome fighter, tingling in places it shouldn’t. I silently reprimand it. A nice smile and a killer physique don’t make a man worth my time. Recent experience should tell me that.
“Good form,” he says, raking his gaze down my body in a way that brings my nipples to attention. Fortunately, it’s impossible to see anything through my thick sports bra.
“Thanks. I try.”
He winks. “You succeed.”
Oh, my God. He’s a flirt. Exactly what I don’t need.
The beeper ends the break, and Devon offers me a hand up. I grab it and haul myself to my feet. But something strange happens when we touch. Energy pulses through my body, awakening every nerve until I’m hyperaware of the movement of my skin against his. The instant my feet are steady beneath me, I drop his hand, desperate to end the strange sensation. His eyes catch mine and the way he searches them tells me he felt it too, but far from being discomfited, he seems enthralled. He doesn’t return to his bag as I expect. Instead, he wraps an arm around mine, effectively taking it out of commission.
“So how are you settling into Vegas?”
I shrug, irritated with him for getting up in my face with all of his sexiness. “It’s fine. It’s no Thailand, but there are worse places.”
“I bet Seth hasn’t given you the grand tour.” He cocks his head, and his full lips twitch into a smile. Something twinges inside of me, and I have the insane urge to bite into his lower lip. Shaking my head, I clear the thought. “I’m an excellent tour guide,” he continues, “and I happen to be free as soon as training ends. I’ll show you around.”
“No, thanks. I’m perfectly capable of figuring the city out for myself.”
His brows shoot up. “Oh, so that’s how you’re going to play it?”
