“The winning bid was twenty thousand dollars.”

“Twenty thousand dollars?” I inhale sharply. “That’s awesome, Reed! I’m so happy for you.” I pause for a moment. “Although it’s kind of weird to think my picture could be hanging in some rich serial killer’s living room.”

“It’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the winning bidder was Jax Knight.”

***

Luckily there is a week’s worth of work to be done in the two days before we leave for the MMA Open, otherwise the tremendous yearning I feel thinking about Jax would have me rocking back and forth in a corner somewhere.

“I spoke to our advertising rep, they have some open air space on channel seven they can give us on short notice if we have a winner at the Open. Capitalize on the publicity of a weight class champ to increase membership. Might help cash flow.” Joe informs me as he walks out the front door carrying boxes we need to ship to Las Vegas for the Open.

“Great idea, Joe. Now we just need to win fights at the Open.”

“I’ll take care of that for you,” Caden’s voice surprises me, but it’s the arm he wraps around my waist that brings me to an abrupt halt.

“Caden,” I admonish.

“What? You don’t think I’ll win?”

“That’s not what I meant.” I peal his fingers from my waist and level him with an icy stare.

“You can’t still be mad at me for what happened. I thought we moved past that.” He forces the hand I’d just removed back around my waist and tugs me to him.

“Get off of me, Caden.”

He ignores me and keeps going. “You just made me so mad, letting that ass**le touch you.”

“You’re not listening to me, Caden. Get off of me.”

He leans down and whispers in my ear. “You’ll be begging for me to stick my dick inside you when I win.” Revulsion courses through my veins.

“Don’t hold your breath.” I wiggle from his hold. “Finish what you need to do with Joe and go back up to 59th Street. I don’t want you down here anymore.” I walk away.

Chapter 30

Jax

I answer a few emails and decide to send Lily flowers. I know her and Joe will be leaving for Vegas today or tomorrow with the fighters, so I use it as an excuse to send something and wish her luck. The thought of her being anywhere near Caden makes my blood boil. I’m feeling so frustrated it’s making me crazy, but I keep some semblance of control, reminding myself I have no right to feel the way that I do. It’s my own fault I don’t have a right anymore. I had it once and I have no one to blame but myself for losing it.

My cell phone rings and I hit REJECT, seeing my father’s name flash on the screen. He thinks now that I’m back in D.C., things will eventually go back to the way they were. But things will never go back. I hate hotel living, but I’d rather be here than living on his property.

I shower and throw a few things in my gym bag, not bothering to pack a suit for after my workout. It’s Saturday and the office will be scarce anyway. I’m just about to walk out the door when my cell goes off again. My finger hovers over the button to send the call to voicemail, assuming it’s my father calling again. Instead City Bank appears on my screen.

“Hello, Mr. Knight?”

“Yes.”

“This is Gertrude Waters.”

“Hi Gertrude. How are you?”

“I’m good. But I wanted to discuss something with you. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Well. I had to finish my report on the Ralley’s Gym financing…” Gertrude trails off. I never withdrew my financing application, even though the sale wasn’t happening anymore. I was afraid the bank might use it as another reason to pull Lily’s line of credit. I expect Gertrude to tell me she knows what I’ve done, but she doesn’t.

“I took a little extra time going through the reports I took back with me. Hoping maybe I could find some redundancies between all the gyms that I could suggest to Ms. St. Claire to consolidate for savings considering their cash flow was a bit tight.”

“That’s great, Gertrude. Thank you.”

“Well. The problem is I did find some things. But they weren’t the type of things I had expected to find.”

“What do you mean?”

“I downloaded the vendor payments from all sixty two stores into one file and sorted them by name. I thought perhaps I’d find duplicate insurance policies or memberships that could be eliminated. Since the gyms all have their own set of books, it would be hard to see redundant expenses unless they were all merged together.”

“Okay.”

“I did find one expense that seemed to be recurring throughout all the locations. It wasn’t huge individually, a thousand dollars per location, but when you add them up…and sixty one of the sixty two locations were paying this vendor for almost the last year, it amounted to roughly three quarters of a million dollars.”

“What was the expense for?”

“That’s what I wasn’t sure of. So I called one of the locations and they told me it was a management fee they were instructed to pay monthly from the main office.”

“Who is it to?”

“Ralley Training, Inc.”

“Maybe it’s a loan that Joe gave to the business at one time?”

“I thought that at first too. But there wasn’t a loan on the Ralley’s balance sheet. So then I looked up Ralley Training and it’s not owned by Joe Ralley.

“Who is it owned by?”

“It’s owned by Caden Ralley.”

Rage travels through my veins like electricity through a two hundred and twenty volt live wire. “Are you sure?”

“I am, Jackson.”

“Did you tell Lily?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t.”

“But…”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely positive.”

***

“Anyone can enter the MMA Open, right?” I say to Mario, my trainer at the D.C. Ralley’s Gym, without offering an explanation as I put on my sparring gloves.

“Yep.”

“How are the matchups chosen?”

“Sealed gym ranking. The trainers rank the fighters they put in and they match up within weight class based on the ranking.”

“How do you rank a fighter who has never fought in a professional fight?”

“You thinking about entering?” Mario smiles.

“Not thinking about it. Doing it.”

“It’s about f**king time.”

“Can you rank me so I get matched up with someone specifically?”

“Has the guy fought in a sanctioned fight before?”

“Yes.”

“Then no.”

“Why not?”

“Max someone can rank an inexperienced fighter is a level five. Most fighters that have won a few fights will be a six or better.”

Fuck.

I blow through two sparring partners in ten minutes, feeling more angry than when I started. Fighting usually helps me blow off steam. But this morning the more I hit, the more enraged I become. The third one gives me more of a challenge, catching me off guard with a strike that’s more powerful than a usual sparring partner gives and we go at it full force.

I hit him with a series of quick strikes and he stumbles back, his back arching against the ropes. He grins at me, seemingly delighted at finding a worthy opponent. If this were a real fight, I’d not have let him regroup. Instead, I would have followed up with a leg strike hoping to double him over and bring him down with a knee to the back.

Mario reminds us we’re practicing and we take turns maneuvering take downs on each other until we’re both drenched in sweat. A crowd forms around the ring, some of the regulars stopping to watch our show.

“Boys!” Mario yells, grabbing our attention. “You want one minute full strength to have at it. I’ll climb in and ref.” We both nod.

Mario calls the start of the fight and I waste no time. Instead of dancing around the ring, showing off some meaningless fancy footwork and wasting my energy, I attack with all my might. A strong right makes my opponent wobble, but he quickly regains his footing. So I throw a roundhouse kick that lands square on his chest and it takes him off guard, knocking the wind out of him. I use the element of surprise to my advantage and easily take him to the ground. Mario gave us a minute, but I had him down and out in thirty seconds.

I shower and walk to Mario on the way out. “You look really good in there. You know who that guy you just put to shame is?”

I shake my head.

“Your weight class, won six out of eight. Ranked a nine.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “Did you think I was blowing smoke up your ass every day telling you that you were good enough to make it?”

I force a smile, still feeling defeated even though I just won. “Yeah, but I need a fight against a guy who’s probably ranked like that guy.”

“Can’t help you there,” he pauses, “but you got an inside connection.”

I furrow my brow.

“The guy running the fight,” he reminds me, “Vince Stone. I seem to remember seeing a small mention in the paper once that you were related to him,” he adds sarcastically, considering it was the headline for weeks.

Chapter 31

Jax

Thunder crashes in the sky, echoing through dark, ominous clouds. The plane shakes and bounces through the turbulent late night sky, reminding us of who’s really in control. Mother Nature. And she’s one pissed off woman right now.

The flight attendants sit strapped in their jump seats looking haggard from the weary day of travel. The dimmed cabin lights that are supposed to help passengers relax on the evening flight only serve to help bring attention to the flashes of lightening that explode in the sky.

Eventually we land in Vegas after what seems like the longest four hours in history. I’m about ready to hop over the seats to get past the twenty passengers standing in the aisle trying to pull their luggage out of the overhead compartments. I need out of this god damn tin can!

Fights start tomorrow, but my weight class pre-qualifiers aren’t until the day after, so I have some time to rest and try to get myself matched up with Caden. I deliberated for hours over asking anything from the brother I’ve barely even met and hated since I found out he existed. But eventually, my need to beat the shit out of Caden and settle Lily’s score once and for all outweighed my own animosity and hang-ups with my half-brother. In the end, all he did was be born anyway. It was our ass**le father that set all the destruction that would come later in life into action.

I check into Caesar’s Palace, the place is crawling with jacked guys obviously here as contestants or devout fans. Sleep comes easily for the first night in a long time, exhaustion finally kicking in. The time change west works for me, I sleep later than I normally would, yet I’m up an hour before I’d ever get out of bed back in D.C. Throwing on some sweats, I decide to go for a run, beat the rise of the Nevada heat.

Walking through the quiet lobby, I catch sight of a woman from the side. Long wavy auburn hair, a straight nose and high cheekbones. My suspicion becomes abundantly clear as I move closer.

“Liv?”

She turns, a look of shock on her face at seeing me quickly turns to confusion. “Jax? What are you doing here?”

“I came for the fight. Guess I don’t have to ask what you’re doing hanging around near a fight anymore.”

She smiles. “Are you fighting?”

“That depends.”

She furrows her brow, “On what?”