Fighting Blind
Authors: C.M. Seabrook
Fighting Blind
C.M. Seabrook
Copyright (C) 2016 C.M. Seabrook
ISBN
978-1533453075
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.
Warning: This book is intended for readers 18 years and older due to bad language, violence, and explicit sex scenes.
Table of Contents
Love doesn't hide. It stays and fights. It goes the distance. That's why love is so strong. So it can carry you all the way home.
Pietro Aretino
Theo
My fist grinds into my opponent’s nose with a sickening crunch and the man falls, eyes rolling back in his head.
“Shit, Theo, it’s just a practice match.” My trainer, Evan, jumps into the ring and crouches over the bloody bastard lying unconscious on the mat.
“It’s not my fault he won’t keep his eyes up.” Sweat drips from my hair onto the new cage floor I just installed. An exact replica of the one in the MGM Grand. Cost me a pretty penny, but it’s not like I’m hurting for cash. Not after my last two sanctioned fights. Plus, the gym’s been doing well. I’ve got enough in savings to keep the place running, even if I decide to retire after my next match.
It’s a possibility I’ve been mulling over.
Twenty-five and retired. I grunt at the thought. Most men my age are just starting their career in the octagon, but I’ve got bigger plans. Plans that don’t involve having my teeth rearranged every couple of months.
“Hey, Boss.” Moody pops his head around the corner, long hair pulled back in what chicks are calling a man-bun. There’s just something wrong about a six-foot-four, tatted MMA fighter wearing granny hair.
“What is it?” I shout over the sound of fists smacking against leather and flesh.
“There’s a pair of tits here to see you.” With a grin, Moody wiggles his brows.
“You know the rules.” My girls know not to disturb me at my gym.
“She’s pretty insistent. And hot too.”
If it was the redhead from last Tuesday, I was going to lose my shit. After giving her one hell of a ride, the chick had gone loco, stalking the gym, and calling my cell at all hours.
I pull off my gloves and unwrap the bandages from my knuckles, then walk to the front, ready to give her an earful.
When I turn the corner, I freeze.
People talk about things knocking the breath out of you, and that’s exactly what seeing Mackenzie Brooks does. The fucking air in my lungs leaves me in a rush. Shock, anger, relief. Emotions flood through me like a tsunami.
Three years.
Three fucking years.
That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen that beautiful face. Not that I didn’t try tracking her down. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to be found. At least by me.
When her gaze turns to me, her eyes widen and trail down my bare chest. Her lips part in appreciation, pupils expand, and I hear her small uneven breath. I’ve seen the look countless times from other women, but not from Mac. Never from Mac.
I take a step towards her, ready to scoop her up in my arms, then stop. I don’t know whether to hug or strangle her. My fingers itch to do both.
“Hi.” Long brown hair rolls down her back in glossy waves. Soft, full lips that I’ve only dreamed of kissing open and close as if trying to decide what to say.
An explanation of where the hell she’s been for the past few years would be a good place to start.
“I…just wanted…” Her words come out in a stutter, and she tucks her hair behind one ear.
She’s nervous. Good. She should be fucking nervous.
I move toward her. The muscles in my jaw are so tight they feel like they’re going to snap. I can barely process the emotions that are slamming into my chest. But I can’t take my eyes off her. I’d almost forgotten how gorgeous she was. Hell, I’d tried to forget.
Eyes the color of caramel, with flecks of amber and gold, stare up at me with uncertainty.
Those eyes.
They could pierce a man’s heart with a single look. And they had.
I’d have given everything for her. Would’ve sold my soul to the fucking devil just to please her. All she had to do was ask. Instead, she walked away.
The question that’s been raging inside my skull for the past three years, screams out.
Why?
“What are you doing here, Mackenzie?” My tone is harsher than intended, but no matter how good it is to see her face, I’m still pissed. And I have every right to be.
I’d nearly lost my fucking mind trying to track her down, imagining the worst case scenarios of why she’d run. For months, I thought something had happened to her. Even got the police involved. It wasn’t until her drunk of a mother called the whole thing off that I got any semblance of an explanation.
Hiking around Europe.
That was the bullshit answer she gave me. Which was a pretty shitty lie, since I knew Mac didn’t have a passport.
“I…” She rings her hands and chews on her bottom lip, looking anywhere but at me.
Bloody hell
. I know that look. She’s in some kind of trouble.
But what else is new?
It’s what defines our friendship. Her screwing up. Me bailing her out.
I’m done trying to be her white knight.
Even as I think it, I know I’m bullshitting myself.
“I wanted to let you know I’m in town for a couple days.” She shifts nervously from one foot to the other. “I should’ve just called.”
“Yeah, one phone call in the past three years would’ve been nice.”
“Theo–”
“Save it, Mac.” I drag my hand through my hair and take a deep breath. “What kind of trouble are you in this time?”
Her eyes snap to mine, and a look of hurt crosses her soft features. “I’m not in–”
“Don’t play games. You at least owe me that. What do you need?”
“This was a bad idea.” She takes a step towards the door.
Sunlight streams through the glass, across her pale skin, and I see her for the first time. I mean really see her. There are dark shadows under her eyes, and her cheeks are sunken in. I notice how her jeans hang loosely on her hips. Her oversized gray sweatshirt does little to hide the fact that she’s underweight.
What the hell?
“Mac?” I move towards her, and I see her physically pull into herself, like I’m some kind of predator and not the guy who was her best friend for ten fucking years. “What’ve you got yourself messed up in?”
“Nothing.” Her fingers tremble as they reach for the door. She swallows hard and squints, looking out the window like there’s something interesting on the other side.
“Is it drugs?” I can’t imagine Mac ever turning to that shit, but then how well do I really know her now?
“No.” Her voice raises an octave and she shakes her head. “You know I don’t do that stuff.”
I believe her. But I can tell she’s hiding something. She’s always been a terrible liar.
“Then what is it?”
“I should go.” The corner of her lips lift slightly, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
She’s going to walk out that door. Out of my life.
Again.
Panic claws at my throat.
“Are you staying with your mom?” I inch closer, ready to grab her if she decides to bolt.
“No. You know how she is.
”
Yeah, I knew the woman all right.
“Where you staying?” No way I’m letting her leave here without knowing where she’s going.
“I’ve watched your fights.” She hugs her arms around her chest, and her sweatshirt shifts, exposing the sharp edge of her collarbone.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“You’ve done well for yourself.” She glances around the gym, a soft smile touching her lips.
Fuck, I’ve missed that smile. Missed everything about her. “You still didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m happy for you.” Her eyes glaze over and there’s a small quiver to her chin.
Fuck, are those tears? The Mackenzie I know doesn’t cry. Not without good reason.
I take a step towards her and her eyes widen. Fear? Arousal? Hope? Hell if I know what’s going on in that pretty head.
I fight the urge to pull her into my arms.
She didn’t come here for me.
“How much do you need?” It’s money she’s here for. The way she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and looks through the window, avoiding my gaze, confirms my suspicion.
“I don’t want your money,” she says quietly.
“No. But you need it. How much?”
“I didn’t come here for help.”
Another lie.
“Bullshit. Why else would you be here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“I’ve been here all along.” I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring her defensive stance. “Why now?”
Her lips tighten in a thin line and she shakes her head. “I’m back for a few days. That’s all.”
Another goddamn lie. Anger simmers close to the surface.
“You got your wish. You saw me. What now?” I ball my fingers into fists at my side to keep from reaching out and grazing my knuckles over her pale cheek. Even after all these years, the need to touch her overrides my sanity. I don’t realize how close I’ve gotten until I feel her warm, uneven breath against my bare chest.
“Boss? Phone call.” Moody leans against the office door watching us. I can’t read his expression, which isn’t good. When I don’t move, he adds, “They’re wanting to reschedule your fight.”
Shit. I have to take it. Cracking my neck, I straighten. “I’ve got work to do.”
Her fingers are shaking again when she reaches out to touch my hand. It’s a small gesture, but the single touch makes my cock jerk in response.
“It was good seeing you.”
I huff in response. It was better than good. But fear keeps me from saying more.
With a sharp nod, I take a step back.
I’ve never felt like such a coward in my life. Of all the times I imagined what I would say, what I would do if I ever saw her again, letting her walk out the door wasn’t one of them.
She hesitates, then pushes through the door, disappearing around the corner.
I stand there, frozen, unable to move or even breathe.
Bottom line, I loved Mackenzie Brooks, and she demolished me. No matter the highs I chase – the booze, the women, the adrenaline rush of stepping into the cage – nothing can fill the void she left in my soul.
Was I really about to let her walk away, again?