Fighter's Secret

  FIGHTER’S SECRET

  A. RIVERS

  Copyright © 2021 by A. Rivers

  Fighter’s Secret

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. All people, places, events and organizations within it are figments of the author’s imagination or creative license has been used. Any resemblance to real people, places, events and organizations is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Steamy Designs

  Editing by Free Bird Editing and Paper Poppy Editorial

  Created with Vellum

  To Sheridan,

  For giving your time generously,

  being generally awesome,

  and never failing to make me smile.

  Free eBook

  I’ve craved his love for years, but I was invisible to him. Now that I’m ready to move on, he suddenly sees me. And he won’t let me go.

  * * *

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Fighter’s Second Chance Excerpt

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  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?”

  “Play what?”

  “You’re going to pretend you don’t feel this thing between us?”

  I shake my head, incredulous. “We just met.”

  He shrugs. “That doesn’t mean anything. Some of the world’s greatest romances happened in only a few days.”

  This guy really is trouble. “Didn’t Seth give you ‘the talk’?”

  His grin widens. “I offered to show you around town, that’s all. I’d do the same for any other fighter who was new to the area.”

  “Uh-huh.” I glance at the timer and see he’s already wasted half of the round. “Listen, I haven’t worked out for several days because I’ve been in transit and I really need to get back into it. Do you mind?”

  He releases the bag, but I can tell from his expression that this isn’t the end of the conversation. He might be backing off for now, but it’s a temporary reprieve. That’s fine. I look forward to round two.

  “Dev!” Seth yells across the room. “Harley! Less talking, more sparring.”

  “Me and her?” His smile falters, but he catches it quickly. He wasn’t expecting that.

  “Come on, then.” I raise my fists and challenge him, waiting to see what he’ll do. Some guys don’t like sparring with a female partner. They get weird about it.

  He bumps my gloves and steps back, scanning me in a way that’s two-thirds analytical and one-third sexual. He’s trying to take me seriously, but can’t help checking me out. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. That’s such a guy thing to do, and honestly, I hope he underestimates me. Silently, I dare him to.

  He moves forward, but he’s hesitant and all it takes is a push-kick in the solar plexus to stop him in his tracks. He fires back with a body kick but it’s slow and weak. I check it easily and sigh. So this is how it’s going to be. He’s afraid to hurt me. As if he really could. I’m not some delicate flower, and by the time this round is over, he’ll know not to treat me like one.

  He throws a half-hearted hook, which I block, and then I step forward and deliver a perfectly placed uppercut to the soft piece of flesh on the underside of his chin. His eyes bulge in shock, but rather than looking annoyed as most men typically do when they’re outdone by a woman, he laughs and studies me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

  Devon

  So this is how it feels to be punched in the face by love. I have to say, I kind of like it. I like this girl, too. She’s a warrior princess who put Seth on his ass and turned down my invitation without a second thought. Harley Isles isn’t going to be easy to win over, but the worthwhile adventures never are. All I know for sure is that I can’t wait to learn more about her. To find out what gets under her skin.

  Moving forward, I keep my guard up because she packs a lot of power for her size, and clearly has the skills to take down a guy like me if I don’t stay on my toes. I fucking love that about her. This time, I throw a fake with my left arm, then as she shields her face, I drop low and land a shot to her gut. Or perhaps I should say her abs, because there’s nothing soft about them. They flex beneath my fist and the air gusts from her lungs, but she doesn’t crumple or gasp for breath. Instead, she seizes the opportunity to strike while my head is low, aiming her knee at my face. It’s only my catlike reflexes that save me from a bleeding nose.

  “You’re good,” I say around my mouthguard.

  She rolls her eyes. “I’ve literally lived at a gym for eight years. What’d you expect?”

  “Eight years?” I can hardly fathom it. She looks around the same age as me, perhaps a year or two older, so she must have only been a teenager when she left the country. Perhaps she found her way to the martial arts younger than I did. I was an aimless kid. The guy everyone liked, but who never really belonged. At least, not until I found MMA.

  She jabs, and I slip the punch and haul her into a clinch. Her body presses against mine from thigh to chest, and it’s the best sensation short of sex that I’ve ever experienced. The places where we touch are practically alight with the flames of attraction. With one leg, I try to sweep her to the floor, but she evades the movement and counters by rolling me over her hip. Her actions are less practiced than they have been until now, and I realize that’s because she’s not familiar with ground play. Throwing and wrestling are off the cards in muay thai.

  A devilish grin steals across my face. Suddenly, there’s nothing I want more than to get her on the floor, where she’s at a disadvantage, just to see what she’ll do. If I trap her in a hold, will she tap out? I doubt it. She’s the type to be stubborn until she’s blue in the face. As if she senses the direction of my thoughts, she shoves me away.

  “You don’t like getting up close and personal,” I say.

  She scowls. “Not true.”

  “Oh, so you want to get close to me?” I waggle my eyebrows, watching as her jaw tightens.

  Instead of answering, she kicks the side of my body, then slams her padded shin into my thigh. Because I’m distracted, I’m too slow to check the kicks and if this fight were for real, she’d have scored a couple of clean points. She knows it, too. Her expression is smug, and I can’t lie, her desire to prove she can beat the crap out of me is sexy as hell.

  I launch into one of my favorite combos, curious how she’ll react. She responds fluidly and within seconds, I find myself engaged in a dangerous dance. Sparring is one of my favorite pastimes, and she seems to feel the same because our bodies speak to each other as we move, and they’re far more honest than our mouths. It’s playful, but no longer tentative. We’re learning each other’s limitations and preferences. Our patterns and habits.

  Yeah, I know. Sounds like sex.

  Well, guess what? Sparring and sex have a lot in common. They’re both weirdly intimate, and you have to trust a good sparring partner almost as much as you’d trust a sexual partner. After all, one false move and you eat a fist.

  Seth approaches and starts barking instructions. They’re directed at Harley so I tune them out, trying to figure out what throws her off her game. I’m unpredictable. That’s my major tactic. I thrive on shocking people and then pressing my advantage, but Harley is unflappable in the face of my strategy, calmly returning blows and moving as though there’s music only she can hear. For five rounds, we continue, with Seth drilling her during the breaks. Try this. Do that. Don’t let him get in your head. I have to admit, I like the thought of being in her head. I want her thinking about me. Preferably wondering what’s beneath my clothes. Not that she appears to be doing so, damn it all.

  When we’re done, I grab my drink bottle and towel, and wipe the sweat from my brow. Seth heads into his office, leaving me and Harley alone in the training area. A
perfect opportunity.

  Sidling over to her, I lower my voice and say, “Pretty sure you’re my soul mate, Harls. Come zip-lining with me. It’ll be fun.”

  She rolls her gorgeous hazel eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “What?” I act shocked. “You don’t want to be my soul mate?”

  She flushes. Even though she’s tanned—probably from training in the sun—her complexion is naturally fair and does nothing to hide the pinkness blossoming in her cheeks. It’s fucking adorable. If I said that, she’d castrate me, but it’s true. It also shows that she’s not immune to the strange pull I’m feeling, she’s just doing her best to pretend it isn’t happening.

  “You heard what Seth said,” she grumbles, and looks away under the guise of reaching for her water.

  “I did,” I agree. “But as much as I respect him, my coach doesn’t dictate my personal life, so as far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t mean shit.” Besides, Seth is my friend. He might be pissy if I date his sister at first, but once he sees I’m serious about her, it won’t be a problem. “If you’re not attracted to me—if you don’t feel this tension between us—then come straight out and say it, and I’ll leave you alone.” Searching her eyes, I pray she doesn’t pull the lever on the escape hatch I offered.