Simon Says (2 page)

Typical of Bonnie, she refused to look anywhere but at him. She crossed her arms beneath her generous breasts. With a toss of her head, she sent her silky dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. “And just where do you think you're going?”

“That doesn't concern you anymore, does it?” Moving around her, Simon went to his dresser and removed a drawer, then upended it over the growing pile of clothes.

“Of course it concerns me.” Bonnie followed on his heels. “Today is our anniversary.”

“Nope. Today is the day it all ends. Nothing more.”

Her voice rose the tiniest bit. “Why?”

“Come on, Bonnie. You're smart. You already know why.”

“Oh, just great. Because of one little indiscretion, you're going to throw away a five-year relationship?”

He couldn't help it; her dense perception of her perfidy struck Simon as funny. “Was it only one?”

“Yes!”

He still didn't look at her. “Was it little?”

Frustration and annoyance sharpened her tone. “I meant insignificant.”

“I see. Well, that's too bad for you.”

Bonnie sank well-manicured nails into his biceps. “Damn it, Simon, he was available when you weren't. I only took the photos to…to keep me company when you're not here.”

What a joke. “I hope he's available nonstop now.” Simon pried her hand loose, then immediately dropped it. “Because I'll never be available to you again.”

“Bullshit.”

The coarse word shocked him. “Such language for a lady.” Bonnie prided herself on her respectability.

“You're leaving me,” she rasped. “The situation calls for harsh language.”

“Suit yourself.” His many sport T-shirts joined the stack on the sloping mattress.

Since her first tactic failed, Bonnie tried a new gimmick. “You're kidding yourself and you know it.”

“Is that right?”

“You love me.”

He shook his head on a laugh. “No.”

“We have something special.”

“I was dumb enough to think so.” Simon nodded toward the photos. “Thanks for pointing out my error.”

“Simon,
please
!”

Never had he heard Bonnie beg. He sure as hell didn't want to hear it now. “Save it.”

She took a combative stance in front of him. “You're a family man, Simon. You like the security and familiarity of the same woman, the same place. You cherish stability.”

“I like honesty and loyalty, too. What I don't like is being played for a fool.”

“You could never be that.”

He laughed again.

“Simon, listen to me. From the time we decided to move in together, you've been saying that love and commitment was give-and-take, and—”

“Yeah, I know what I said, Bonnie. But you gave a little too much to the wrong man.” Simon physically set her away from him.

“I won't just let you go,” she stated. “I won't just stand by while you throw away five good years.” When Simon said nothing, she screamed, “I uprooted and moved to Harmony for you!”

Once again, she shocked him. It was unlike Bonnie to cause a scene. “Save the hysterics, babe. You wanted the move, the fresh start, as much as I did. Don't use it as an excuse now.”

“I'll win you back.” Bonnie lifted her chin with that atrocious statement. “One way or another, you will come back to me.”

Simon tossed his shaving kit toward the rest of his belongings. “Here's the thing, Bonnie. I'm not all that broke up about you cheating.”

Her glossy red lips parted.

“Yeah, that surprises me, too, but I guess you weren't the big draw.” Simon smiled. “Like you said, it was the comfort of familiarity.”

“Simon…”

“Now that you shot that to hell, there's nothing here for me. Nothing.”

“You can't mean that.”

“Every word. So do us both a favor and don't waste your time pestering me.”

Gregor chose that moment to reenter with more than enough boxes. God bless him and his perfect timing. Simon could hear Dean explaining the situation as he and Gregor came into the bedroom.

SBC fighters were nothing if not loyal to each other.

As if Bonnie weren't standing there, five feet nine inches of stacked female smelling of perfume and looking like a fashion icon, the three of them went about their business. Simon didn't look at her, but he was aware of her all the same. How could he not be? She stayed silent, but she continued to plead with her eyes.

And even distressed, she was one of the sexiest women he'd ever seen.

But the second he'd seen those photos, his interest had vanished as if it had never existed. He had no room in his life for rank disloyalty.

Within an hour, Simon had removed every trace of himself from the apartment. It took another hour at the manager's office, a lot of paperwork, and a chunk of his savings, but he got his name off the lease. While Dean drove and Gregor stewed, Simon used his cell phone and credit card to pay off all the utilities, and then have his name removed. He wasn't really worried about Bonnie running up deliberate bills. She didn't operate that way. But neither was he a man to leave things to chance.

When he finished, Bonnie was out of his life. Simon felt…renewed. Ready to start over. Challenged by upcoming changes. Yes, it'd be good to spend an extended time with his family.

And then…Looking at Gregor and Dean, he said, “You know what I want to do?”

Dean glanced at him before returning his attention to the road. “Yeah, I do.”

Gregor frowned. “You do?”

Dean shrugged. “He's going to fight again.”

Simon's brows shot up. Damned perceptive bastard. But then he and Dean had been a team for a long time, and they knew each other well. Dean would understand his sudden need for physical competition.

Gregor snorted. “No way. Simon's a trainer.” No one said anything to that, which made Gregor reevaluate. “A damn fine trainer, for sure. But he's been out of the circuit too long to—”

“Whip your sorry butt?” Simon asked.

Though Gregor towered over both men, he merely grinned at the subtle threat. “Now, Sublime, I didn't say that.”

Simon laughed. It wasn't that Gregor feared him. Hell, Simon doubted that Gregor feared any man. In almost any physical situation, he'd come out a winner.

Just not against Havoc or Simon. Not yet.

Still, it was respect and friendship that made Gregor turn away from a direct challenge.

“Don't sweat it, Gregor. You're good and getting better every day.”

A look of conceit spread over Gregor's face. “Good enough to go up against Havoc now?”

Both Dean and Simon said, “No.”

Gregor's expression pinched. “You might've retired, Havoc, but damn it, I haven't given up on the idea.”

Dean said nothing, but Simon relented. “Dean's retired and he's not coming back just to accommodate you. When the time is right, we'll find the perfect contender for you. But for now, I'll need your help. You're right that I've been out of it for too long.”

“You've probably forgotten more about submission fighting than most of the fighters will ever know,” Dean told him. “And you're in great shape.”

“For the average guy, maybe. But not for the SBC. I'm rusty and I know it.”

Gregor rubbed his hands together. “Dean goes from fighting to owning a gym and training, and you go from training to fighting. The world has flip-flopped.” Raw anticipation brightened his gaze. “So when do we get started?”

“Let me talk to the Powers That Be.” Simon considered all the ramifications to reentering the circuit. “I'll see how they feel about me making a comeback.”

Dean scoffed. “Are you kidding? You're a legend in your own time. Everyone will love it. You'll be the biggest draw the SBC has had in years. I don't have a single doubt that the organization will play up your first fight in a big way.”

“Then I better be ready to win, huh?”

Gregor put his arm around him. “Don't worry, little buddy. We'll get you in top fighting form.”

Because Simon stood six-two and weighed over two hundred pounds, only Gregor would refer to him as little.

His mind made up and his immediate future settled, Simon said, “I'm starving. Let's hit a drive-through for some loaded burgers.”

“Hell, yeah,” Gregor agreed. As the only one of the three currently still competing, fast food, and especially anything as delicious as a hamburger, had been cut out of his diet for a while.

Happy to oblige, Dean pulled into the drive-through line for the next burger joint they saw.

Simon knew that once he hit home, his mom would have a healthy, home-cooked meal for him morning, noon, and night. And once he started training, his diet would be a big part of the program. He wanted to enjoy fast food while he still could.

It was the best way to celebrate his new freedom.

A
S
if going to her mother's home—the home she'd grown up in—wasn't bad enough, it was barely nine in the morning, and Dakota Dream was a night person. Her eyes felt gritty, her brain foggy, and she needed caffeine in a bad way.

Not a good start.

Dakota stared at the man who had served as her stepfather from her sixteenth year until her mother's death.

Now he served as nothing in her life.

Nothing at all.

Yet…here she was, in a place she didn't want to be, at an hour she hated, and without the kick of coffee to keep her alert.

Wearing a deliberate look of disinterest, Dakota sauntered further into the familiar living room and took a seat where her mother's favorite chair used to be. Now, thanks to her stepfather, a very expensive leather lounger replaced it. “You're joking, right?”

Resting back with his shoeless feet on a new coffee table and a toothpick in his perfect teeth, Barnaby Jailer smiled that same smile that had always made Dakota's skin crawl. “Of course I'm not, honey. You owe me and you know it.”

Hoping to brazen her way out of that claim, Dakota snorted. “Right. In what universe?”

A grating sound that Barnaby tried to pawn off as a laugh made Dakota's stomach lurch. Why couldn't he be a coffee drinker with a fresh pot waiting in the small kitchen?

From the moment her mother had brought Barnaby home, Dakota had hated him. Her reasons were sketchy at best. He was an average-height man with an average, rangy build and a pleasant enough face.

But at sixteen, she'd been very afraid of him.

Now, at twenty-three, he merely repulsed her. But it was years too late for second-guessing her first impressions.

Eyes closing on a familiar rush of pain, Dakota struggled to gather herself. She had few weaknesses left. As a survivor, she'd overcome obstacles and conquered nearly all of her fears.

With very few exceptions, she could face anyone and anything without flinching.

But those damn past regrets that encompassed her mother's death and her own grief always hit her like a concrete sucker punch. Time hadn't softened them.

Nothing ever would.

The hush of clothing against couch cushions and the squeak of a floorboard announced Barnaby's approach. Dakota didn't have to look at him to know he smiled, that his dark eyes glittered with satisfaction.

He was right, she did owe him.

“If it wasn't for me,” Barnaby whispered from her right side, “you wouldn't have known your mother was dying.”

“Shut up.”

“If it wasn't for me,” he continued, “you wouldn't have had anywhere to live.”

“It was my home.”

“Not after you left. Not after staying gone, without a word, for so long. She'd written you off, little girl.”

Dakota smirked. “Little girl?” She slanted her gaze up at him. “I'm only a few inches shorter than you are, Barnaby.”

“And yet,” he said, his voice frighteningly gentle as he moved to the back of her chair, “you're still so much smaller.”

With every fiber of her being, Dakota felt Barnaby standing there behind her. Her skin prickled and the hair on her nape lifted as if touched by static.

“To Joan's mind,” Barnaby continued, “she no longer had a daughter. Had she not been so ill, she would have refused to let you enter. Yet despite her wishes, I contacted you myself. I gave you a place to live and food to eat and most importantly, I allowed you back into your mother's life. I gave you a chance to say good-bye to her. Again.”

“For good.”

“Don't blame me for that. As soon as I knew your mother wouldn't pull through, I looked for you. But you weren't the easiest girl to find.”