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  Jackson walked over to the small man, knelt, and grabbed him by the hair. He dragged his opponent over to the edge of the ring and then hoisted him up against the ropes, facing out towards the audience, showing off the damage he’d done so far. He turned the man around to face into the ring, and then the punches started to fly. Stomach, stomach, ribs, face. Left, right, uppercut.

  Finally, Jackson was ready for this to end. The small man weakly held himself up on the ropes, not wanting to go down for fear of more kicking. Jackson took four or five steps back from him, set his legs apart, hit himself once in the chest, and rushed forward. The chant reached its zenith right before Jackson made impact, and everyone seemed to know what was coming. Jackson’s arm came up, straight as a bar, and hit the small man square in the collarbone, into the ropes, which bounced Jackson’s opponent forward so quickly, he hit the mat face first with a sickening crunch, and immediately passed out.

  If the crowd had been cheering beforehand, it was nothing compared to the noise that erupted now. Lila felt the sound all over her body, pressing down on her like a weight, engulfing her completely. Cassandra and Lyle smiled to themselves, shared a brief glance as if they’d known all along that Jackson would come out on top.

  “How much you come away with that round, hm?” Raechelle’s eyes sparkled as the asked the question.

  “Oh, you know,” Cassandra demurred, “there were some pretty high odds on Jackson’s loss.” Lyle put a hand on her shoulder and slid it down her back. She looked up at him. “And we put a lot of money on our son.”

  “Now, now, ladies, we don’t want to be discussin’ money when Jackson gets over here, and he’s on his way right now.” Lila turned sharply when Lyle said that, scanning the crowd to see how close Jackson was to them. She couldn’t tell what she was feeling, whether it was intense excitement or intense fear, but her heart rate kicked up and she could feel it pounding in her chest.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to meet Jackson. But there he was, trainer at his heels trying to help him sop up some of the sweat pouring off his body, cutting his way through the crowd toward the bar. He was beaming at his parents in between looking at all his fans, women groping whatever parts of his body they could get their hands on, men slapping him on the back, pumping his hand in a firm shake, or tousling his hair like he was kin of their own. Cassandra and Lyle didn’t go towards him, didn’t even seem much moved by the spectacle, aside from the small, quiet smiles they both wore.

  Jackson finally made it up to the bar, and, as if they already knew, the crowd backed off and let him talk to his family without bothering him. Lila assumed everyone knew Cassandra and Lyle were the owners, and indeed, most people in the crowd seemed somewhat afraid to come up and bother the Morans. They suddenly had their own little bubble, right in the throngs of all the club goers. Lila looked awkwardly around, anywhere except Jackson, as he kissed his mother on the cheek.

  “Nice fightin’, son,” Cassandra offered up as Lyle reached over her shoulder to slap Jackson’s face lightly.

  “Almost let ‘er slip there at the beginning.” Lyle smiled when he said this, but Lila caught the look in his eyes, and she didn’t like it. Jackson’s elated face dropped a little at the remark, a storm cloud took over his brow, and Lila felt the same surge of emotion go through her.

  “Gee, thanks, Dad,” Jackson offered sarcastically. He turned to Raechelle. “Get me a whiskey, would you, before my parents completely crush my high.” Raechelle winked understandingly, and poured a Jack Daniels fast as she could. She passed it to him and he knocked it back.

  “Take it easy, babe,” Cassandra cooed, still smiling. Jackson ignored her and motioned to Raechelle for another one. She obliged. “No more after that one,” Cassandra said to Raechelle. It was clear that if she couldn’t control Jackson, Cassandra could at least control everyone else.

  “Who’s this?” Jackson asked gruffly. Lila was still avoiding looking at him, so it took her a moment to realize he must be talking about her. She finally gathered herself and brought her eyes up to meet his. At first glance, Lila knew Jackson felt it too, whatever this bizarre, gut-level connection was between them. Now, up close, Lila felt like she was looking into a mirror—definitely an enormous 6’4” mirror with way more muscle than she could ever dream of, but still. Her eyes stared back at her out of Jackson’s face, and she was sure that the shocked expression he was wearing mirrored her own perfectly.

  “This here’s Lila,” Cassandra chimed in, cutting the awkward silence between them. “She’s gonna be workin’ here with us, at the bar.”

  Jackson tentatively held out a hand to Lila, which she took, gently, and they shook hands. He seemed to have forgotten all of the annoyance his parents had caused him, and was now solely focused on her, and trying to read her with his eyes.

  “Nice to meet you, Lila,” he said quietly.

  Her voice caught in her throat. Whatever fear she’d felt had turned into a tenderness now, and she found herself inexplicably moved by speaking to him. “Uh, hey, hey Jackson. It’s nice to meet you, too,” she finally managed.

  “You shoulda seen Lila over here, son,” Lyle interrupted. “Actin’ like she was in the ring with you!” Lila blushed at the realization that everyone had seen her react that way during the fight. She’d been aware she was feeling that, but she hadn’t even thought about whether anyone else could tell. They clearly could. “She was writhin’ and dodgin’ with every shot.”

  Jackson looked curiously at her again. “Was she?” He sipped his whiskey this time, didn’t gulp it like water. “Well, maybe Lila’s a natural-born fighter. Maybe we should get her in the ring.” He broke eye contact with her and turned back to his parents.

  “It was a great fight,” Lila spoke before she had time to think. “I mean, you went into a zone there at the end and just walloped him.” Jackson brought his eyes back to hers, an amused glint in them now, and took another sip of whiskey.

  “Yep. I did.”

  The bell rang again. Lila hadn’t even been paying attention, but they’d been setting up the next fight this whole time. “Whoops,” Lila panicked, turning to Raechelle. “Should I have been serving drinks that whole time?”

  Raechelle laughed at her. “Nah, I guess we can make an exception for you to meet the Boss’ son. But next break, you get your cute ass out there and sell those drinks!” Raechelle pretended to crack a whip at Lila. Cassandra shushed her playfully.

  “We structure the night pretty easily for y’all,” Cassandra said. “This break was a short one, most people know to get their drinks at the last break when they actually have time.” Lila was surprised to hear such a confident tone in Cassandra’s voice. Despite giving off the impression of being silky and sweet, maybe Cassandra did have an edge of business to her. Lila made a note of that.

  “You can watch this fight and then we’ll let you go for the night,” Raechelle added. “You did your work, you did it well, no point in running you into the ground on your first night. There’ll be plenty of time for that when you’re not training anymore.” She winked at Lila.

  Lila laughed. She couldn’t believe it—was it really this easy? Her life felt like it had already become better, new, exciting. She turned to the arena to take in the next round of fighters, and that’s when her eyes landed on the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

  She wasn’t sure if it had happened on purpose—if he’d been staring at her, waiting for her to look at him—but his eyes were directly on hers, and they were unwavering in their stead. Lila felt like she’d been dunked in a cold pool. Her knees buckled slightly and her lips parted in a gasp of desire. He held her gaze for a moment more, then broke away to let his trainer put his mouth guard in.

  A cold sweat had broken out on her back, and a single drop of it was cascading down her spine, slowly, tantalizingly. Lila’s world had gone flat and silent outside of herself; all she could see, hear, or feel was the current rushing between her and this gigantic, almost frightening, de
vilishly handsome man.

  The fighter wasn’t big like Jackson—he might’ve clocked in at 5’11” and was leaner, there was less of him—but the space he saved in his overall form, his muscles definitely made up for. Lila had never seen such huge, defined muscles. His biceps looked like rocks placed upon his arms. His abs weren’t a washboard, they were a stone walkway. His dirty blonde hair was cut close to his scalp, kind of messy on top, and he was one of those guys who looked a little dirty all the time in the sexiest possible way. His five o’clock shadow drove Lila insane, and she could imagine so clearly what his scruff might feel like against her face.

  Lila hadn’t yet looked away from him when his eyes flew back to hers, and he realized she was still looking at him. His eyebrow flew up, cocked smugly, and then he actually blew a tiny kiss at her. Lila’s instantaneous reaction was to huff and roll her eyes, finally breaking the eye contact and looking away. Her surroundings came back to her, but the second she tuned back into them, the bell rang again, and the fight began.

  Whereas Jackson was all fight and no show, this mystery fighter was a lot of show—and people hated him for it. Lila could have blocked it out while she was taking him in, but she realized, as the fight began, there was a constant stream of boos in the fighter’s direction, that ebbed and flowed with his level of conceit. And he, like the best arena villains, ate it up. He jeered back at people, grabbed his cock and shook it at women who berated him, shouted “Fuck you!” all with the biggest smirk on his face. Lila couldn’t stop watching him, and that both annoyed her and intrigued her.

  The fighter danced around, feinted, laughed in his opponent’s face. He was matched against a man about his size, bald, tanned, who offset the fighter’s circus act by being totally stoic and focused. Lila knew that every cell in her body was pulling for the cocky man to win, whether she liked it or not.

  Her brain defiantly thought, No way this cocky asshole stands a chance against this bald Zen master. Just then, the mystery fighter struck out, almost faster than she could register, and in a split second, the Zen master was in a torturous-looking choke-hold. The fighter’s arm was wrapped tightly around his throat, and one of his legs was forced in between and around the Zen master’s legs, rendering him totally helpless. The crowd was hugely displeased, and the fighter made sure to show off his hold to every possible angle of the arena.

  “Here we go,” said Jackson. Cassandra and Lyle both shook their heads in agreement.

  “That’s Barrett Wade,” Cassandra leaned over to tell Lila. “Great fighter, huge jerkoff.”

  “Gorgeous, and he fucking knows it,” Raechelle added, adding her own head shake to the mix.

  “Shouldn’t be long now,” Lyle said, looking down at his Rolex, feigning interest in the fight. He gave Cassandra a kiss on the cheek and squeezed her with the hand he had around her waist. “We got to get back to work, darlin’,” he drawled in her ear. She rose, smoothed her red dress out, ran her tongue over her teeth, and turned to Lila.

  “Hang out and have fun for as long as you want. I’m gonna text you our home address, I want you over for dinner tomorrow night, ya hear? We’ll figure out the schedule here and work you into it.” She lightly pinched Lila’s cheek, beaming at her. “Happy to have you in the family, Lila.” She smacked the air next to Lila’s face with her lips, winked once at her for good measure, and then walked off.

  Lyle lingered a moment later, still looking at Lila with that strange spark in his eyes. He didn’t move to touch her at all, just gave her a short nod of his head and said, “’Til tomorrow, girlie.” Then he too followed in Cassandra’s wake.

  Lila’d looked away from the fight to watch them go, barely registering that Cassandra had just asked her over to dinner. Immediately, her eyes were back on the ring. Barrett was still enjoying the extent of his hold on the Zen master, taking a little bit of time to slowly, ruthlessly, twist and press his body into obviously painful contortions. The crowd was livid, they couldn’t taunt or degrade Barrett enough. Even Jackson scoffed next to her.

  “Prepare yourself,” he said ominously, tipping back his second whiskey and tossing some money at Raechelle, who grinned and shooed him away with her hand. “See you tomorrow night, I guess,” he touched Lila’s shoulder lightly, and she felt that same strange, warm sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  “Yeah, see you,” she finally got out as Jackson turned and left.

  Lila turned her head back just in time. The Zen master had an arm across Barrett’s back to brace himself against the hold. Barrett grabbed this arm with his free hand and swung it over his head, never letting go of his opponent’s throat. This move twisted the Zen master into an excruciating windmill, with all of Barrett’s weight and power pressing down right on the fragile conjunction of the Zen master’s shoulder.

  A scream escaped the crowd, the pink-lipsticked bouffant lady tearing at her hair in agony this time. The worst cry, though, came from the Zen master, who shrieked loudly over everyone else. Barrett bit his bottom lip, enjoying every second of the Zen master’s pain. Lila could see that, while he was clearly hurting the Zen master with whatever he was doing right now, it was nowhere near how much pain Barrett was capable of causing from this vantage. Half sick, half turned on, and thoroughly confused by all of her feelings, Lila knew that Barrett wasn’t about to stop there. As if on cue, Barrett turned his eyes back to Lila’s. She didn’t want to look at him this time, because she knew exactly what was going to happen. She averted her eyes.

  She heard Barrett bear down as much as he possibly could. She heard the crowd losing its mind, hating every second of Barrett’s forthcoming victory. But most of all, she heard the awful wail, the absolutely hair-raising squeal, of the once stoic Zen master. It felt, to Lila, like it went on forever, that issue of sound, but she was sure it couldn’t have been more than a second or two. The last thing Lila heard, the thing she hadn’t even thought of hearing, was the pounding on the mat, the frantic slapping of the floor. She faced the scene again to confirm—it was definitely the Zen master tapping out. A tap-out! She couldn’t believe it. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that that was an option. But there it was. The bell rang a death toll, and the Zen master had lost the fight in less than five minutes.

  If a knockout like Jackson’s was the noble way to go out, this win-by-submission of Barrett’s was the polar opposite. He released the crumpled Zen master, who just folded into nothing on the mat where he landed, and Barrett threw his arms up in victory. He was met with no kind of celebration. Cups, bottles, food, and napkins were hurled at him, littering the ring. People screamed at Barrett the nastiest things Lila’d ever heard in her life. He toured the ring one time around, cupping his ear with a hand to egg the patrons on, waving his hands to amp up their volume, grinning the whole time. Barrett clearly didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. Or, if he did, he owned up to that by swinging entirely the other way, and almost basking in the hatred.

  He left the ring and only ducked his head slightly to avoid some of the more dangerous projectiles aimed at him. He was headed to the bar, still sweating, and certainly still shirtless. Lila seized up, not sure if she should run to the bathroom or stay and risk interacting with Barrett. Raechelle ended up making the decision for her.

  “What do you want to drink, girlie?” she asked. “Better get it before I get too busy.” Lila tried to decline, but Raechelle didn’t let up. “Nope, nope, won’t hear it. I bet you’re a…hmm…” She disappeared for a moment, grabbing a couple things too fast for Lila to see and shaking them all together. When Raechelle began to pour it, Lila laughed out loud.

  “You made me an Old Fashioned!” she cried.

  “A perfect one,” Raechelle winked.

  “Cheers to you,” Lila said, picking the glass up and toasting the redhead. “I don’t know how you guessed it, but I do love these. And I’m going to judge yours hardcore, because I can make a fucking perfect Old Fashioned.” She giggled and took a sip. Before she had a chance to criti
que Raechelle’s concoction, Lila realized Barrett had made it all the way up to the bar and was now standing at her side.

  “Laphroaig, Raechelle, neat.” His deep voice resonated in Lila’s core, and instantly, every hair on her body raised up, and that cold sweat came back with a vengeance. Her breaths came slow and shallow, and her heart seemed to beat visibly through her dress.

  “Idiot, I know your drink order by now, Jesus,” Raechelle jabbed, half joking.

  “Ah, I left an impression then?” he volleyed.

  “Fuck you, asshole,” Raechelle rolled her eyes, passing him his scotch. He tossed it back easy, which was when Lila turned to look at him. She watched the amber liquid disappear quickly down his throat, watched his Adam’s apple bob as he drank it down. He set the glass down on the counter, empty now, and slid it back over to Raechelle.

  “Another,” he said definitively. She obliged this time without talking to him, sliding it back to him full again. “You know, they don’t allow escorts in this club,” he said, and even though he wasn’t looking at her, Lila realized his comment was directed at her. Any fear she’d had of him turned to a piping hot mixture of adrenalin and courage.

  “Oh, I’m not an escort,” she shot back immediately, “I’m a babysitter, actually. I’m here to pick up some problem child named Barrett, but I can’t seem to find him.” She’d turned entirely towards him now, feeling overtaken by some bravery that she’d never before tapped into. She’d always had a mouth on her, but she’d learned to keep it in check, especially at work. It was freeing to feel like she could let go a bit, and mouth off to this insanely sexy and aggravating man who was standing so close to her.

  Barrett finally brought his gaze to hers, smirking—he’d obviously enjoyed her joke, or was at least impressed that she’d made an attempt at a come-back. “You want to babysit?” he purred, holding her eyes with his own, the upturned corners of his mouth driving Lila crazy. “Come sit over here,” he patted his thigh, “and I bet we can give you a baby to watch over.” Finally, all that time put in at the Dirty Pint had paid off, because Lila no longer reacted to statements like these. She’d learned long ago to control her reactions to crude remarks, and it definitely came in handy here.