Takedown Teague (Caged #1) (13 page)

“Moved in with me,” I repeated without pausing.  Yolanda continued to just stare at me until I finally stopped and rested my arms over my knees.  “What?”

“You let a chick move in with you?”

“Yeah.”

“You,” she stated as she pointed a finger at me, “Takedown Teague, let a chick move into your apartment.”

I couldn’t help but notice the other guys had gone a little quiet and were listening intently to the conversation.  Fucking awesome.

Note sarcasm.

“She needed a place to stay.” I responded with a shrug, hauled myself up, and headed over to the heavy bag—which was also out of earshot of the rest of the gym rats—to throw some punches.  Yolanda moved to the opposite side and braced the bag for me.

“And you figured you’d just let her move in with you?”

“Yep.”  I slammed a fist into the bag, spun in a circle, then hit it with the other hand.

“So, you are fucking her,” Yolanda stated.

“I am not.” I corrected her through grunts as I punched.  “It’s not like that.  She’s not like that.”

“You have a one-bedroom apartment,” Yolanda said as if I hadn’t noticed.

Well, I guess I didn’t notice right away.

“Where is she sleeping?”

“In the bed,” I said with another shrug.

“With you.”  The smile on her face was starting to piss me off.  “So you are sleeping with her.”

“We slept in the same bed,” I growled before slamming my fist hard enough into the bag to knock Yolanda a little off balance.  “I’m not
sleeping
with her.  I told you; she’s not like that.”

Turning away from her, I moved over to the weight bench and sat down.  Yolanda walked up to me slowly, still smiling.

“I bet your balls are the color of the sky,” she said with another laugh.

“Nice,” I mumbled as I lay down on the bench and braced my hands on the bar.

Yolanda moved behind me and signaled to a big guy with arms about the size of my thighs.  She helped me lift the barbells up, but he took her place to spot me.  As soon as she let go, I knew why—they were fucking heavy, and I had difficulty with the first press.

“What the fuck did you put on these?” I gasped.

“Three fifty,” she replied.  “So when are you going to admit that you’re into her?”

“Fuck you.” I grunted under my breath as I brought the bar to my chest and pressed up again.  It was a good twenty-five pounds over my usual max, and it wasn’t easy.  I could barely speak.  “You…trying…to kill me here?”

“You can handle it,” she said.  “You need to move up.  You let that little shit get in too many hits Tuesday night.  Need to pump you up a bit.”

I lost count of the sets as I closed my eyes and forced myself into that place in my brain that didn’t recognize pain.  Before too long, the spotter was taking the bar from me and smiling a nearly toothless grin.

“You’re getting there!” he told me.

I rolled my eyes and sat up, rubbing at my shoulders.

“Let’s weigh you.” Yolanda led me over to the scales.  I rolled my shoulders a couple of times as I stepped up on the scale and watched the digital display crawl up.  “Two-oh-four-point-seven.”

“All good, despite breakfast,” I said with a grin.

“Breakfast?”

“Pancakes.”

“She cooks, huh?”

I nodded.

“You stay away from carbs on fight nights.” Yolanda scolded me, wagging a finger in my face.  “Load up only the night before.  Take it easy the rest of the day—protein and water only.  I want you ready to kick ass come ten o’clock, not dragged down by
pancakes
.”

I ignored her and started to head for the showers in the lower part of the gym.  She followed like the kinky fuck she was.  The room was totally concrete and used to be for fighters when the gym was dedicated to boxing matches.  There wasn’t much to it, just a few shower spigots along one wall and some rusted lockers on the other.  I looked over my head at the retro sign hanging on the post next to the wall.  It read “Boxers and Mgrs only—All others keep out.”

“Are you my manager now?”

I took a big swig from my bottle of water, which dribbled down my chin and cooled my neck.  I took a few deep breaths to relax myself and then began to pull the tape from my hands.  Once that was done, I was ready for a shower.  Yolanda stood there watching me while I dropped my clothes to the ground.

“Why don’t you just tell me you like her?” Yolanda asked.  “Or are you refusing to tell yourself?”

I flipped the shower up to warm and stepped into the stream.

“I told you—it isn’t like that.”

“What is it like, then?”

I turned my face into the water, then stepped back and shook droplets from my hair.  Ultimately, I didn’t want to talk about this, but I also knew my pit-bull-like trainer wasn’t going to loosen her grip.  I ended up yelling over the noise from the water as I lathered up.

“She thinks of me like I’m her big brother, you know?  I’m just trying to help her out.  She’s never lived in a city before; she doesn’t know anyone, and she’s all on her own.  She doesn’t need my shit complicating her life.”

“So you figure you’d invite her to live with you.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” I admitted.  I rinsed, shut the water off, and grabbed one of the towels in a stack next to the shower.  “She was going to move back home—quit school and everything.  I didn’t want her to have to do that.”

I rubbed a towel over my head and then shook out my hair again.  Inside my gym bag were clean boxers and a T-shirt, which I pulled on quickly as the chilled air began to permeate my skin.  I was going to have to turn the heat on this weekend; I was sure of it.

“Holy shit,” Yolanda muttered under her breath.  She leaned heavily on the door frame and shook her head slowly.  “You have no fucking clue, do you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You want her.”

“It’s not like that,” I repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.  I shook my head again.  “I told you.  She just needed a little help, and I—”

“Went all ‘big brother’ on her.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Except ‘big brother’ wants to fuck ‘little sister.’”

“Nice,” I growled up at her.  I yanked on my jeans and tennis shoes before I sat back down and started shoving stuff back into the bag at my feet.  I moved my knees apart and leaned over so I could zip it all up.

“You won’t even admit it.” Yolanda continued to push.

I sighed and leaned back to look up at my trainer and friend.

“For the final fucking time, Yolanda,” I said, “it is not like that with us.  It shouldn’t be like that for her anyway.”

“Like what?” Yolanda asked.  She tilted her head to one side and waited for me to give her a better answer.  I thought it was fucking obvious.

“What she needs is not what I have to offer,” I said.  “Even if she were interested in me, she wouldn’t be interested in the dead-end life around here.  She’s in school, trying to make something of herself.  She’s a transient.  She’s not looking for a fuck buddy, and I’d never get involved with someone seriously, so what difference does it make?”

Yolanda seemed to think about that for a minute before she took a couple of swift steps closer to me, kicked the bag out of the way, and stood right between my legs.  She shoved at my shoulder until I was sitting upright again.  With her standing and me sitting, she was just slightly above my eye level.

“Look at me!” she said sharply.  Like I usually did when it came to her barking, I obeyed immediately.  “You look at me and tell me you aren’t into her.  Tell me you don’t want to be fucking her like a goddamn stud bull.  Say if given the chance, you wouldn’t take her in a heartbeat.  Tell me her cooking fucking
pancakes
didn’t make you hard as hell.  Go ahead.  I dare you.”

I swallowed as I tried to hold her gaze.  I couldn’t even win the staring contest, let alone speak any of those words without my tongue falling right out of my face.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”  Yolanda stepped back.  “Are you lying to yourself, too, or just me?”

I shook my head briefly.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.  “I was serious, though—it’s not like that.  She’s not looking for a fuck buddy, and I’m not going to get involved with someone, so what difference does it make?”

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why not get involved?” Yolanda asked.

My skin went cold.

Every muscle tensed at once.

I stopped breathing.

My eyes clouded over with images of blood and meat and…

“Why not?” I repeated.  A moment later I was on my feet and shoving her backwards.  For once in her life, Yolanda had the good sense to back away from me as I started screaming.  “Why not? 
Why not?
  Are you fucking kidding me?  You of all people?  How the fuck can you just stand there and ask me
why not
?”

“Easy, Teague,” she said.  Her eyes were wary, but honestly, the little explosion was already having an effect on me, calming me.  She started to take a step forward, but I shook my head sharply and she stopped.

“It’s ancient history,” she said quietly.

“That doesn’t change
anything
.”  My voice was hard, cold, and barely recognizable as mine.  I backed up slowly, watching her stand perfectly still as I did.  Once I sat back down on the bench, I let out a long breath.

She looked down at me, and her eyes changed slightly.  They softened a little and looked somewhat sad.  She took a step backwards as she continued to look down at me and then let out a long sigh.

“Maybe it’s time for you to take a chance again,” she said quietly before turning around and walking out of the showers.

I was never one to change my opinion, but Yolanda certainly gave me something to think about.

“You want me to go with you?” Tria asked quietly.  There was hesitation in her voice, but I didn’t understand why.

“Yeah, why not?” I asked.  “I mean, it beats hanging out here all night, right?”

Yolanda’s words had been bothering me all afternoon.  It was rare for her to ever make a comment about any woman who might be in my life though the vast majority of those didn’t last past round two.  I had spent a lot of time trying to figure out what her angle was and why she seemed to be pushing me toward the young woman who was—in a thousand different ways—way too good to get messed up in my life.

She had promise.  She had potential.  She had a future.

I didn’t have shit.  Much more importantly, I had my demons.  I glanced down and realized I was rubbing at the inside of my arm.  I dropped my hand quickly and turned back to Tria.

I watched her closely as she furrowed her brow and considered whether or not she wanted to come to the crappy bar down the street and watch me beat up some random guy in a cage.  It was obviously not something she had considered before, and she didn’t seem to know how to answer.

“Well?” I asked as I glanced up at the clock.  “I need to head over that way, and if you don’t come with me, you ain’t goin’ at all.  I don’t want you walking there on your own.”

“So…it’s like a game, right?” Tria asked.  Her tone was unsure, and her eyes watched mine carefully.

“Well, it’s a ‘sport,’” I said.  I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by a “game.”

“I’ve just never seen anything like that,” Tria told me.  “I still don’t know how you can do anything inside that tiny cage-room-place.”

I laughed at her description.

“Well, if you came and watched, you would know.”

She hesitated and contemplated for a moment, then finally agreed to go.

“Cool!” I said with a smile.  As soon as she agreed, I realized how much I wanted her to be there to see me work—see me at my best.  “Let’s get rockin’!”

We made it to Feet First quickly, my pace a little faster than usual as we headed down the street.  I was excited to have Tria there, watching me work, and I was genuinely looking forward to the fight that hadn’t even begun yet.  I didn’t typically get excited until right before I got into the cage.

Inside the bar, there were already people packed wall-to-wall.  I didn’t have a lot of time to talk to customers before I had to get ready, but I tried to chat with a few of them as I got Tria set up near the bar where she could have a good, unobstructed view of the cage.  Gary was also close by, and I made sure he was going to keep an eye on her while I was fighting.  The last thing she needed was some drunk asshole fucking with her while I was indisposed.

“I’m fine—really,” Tria said.

I had Dordy make her one of his special froo-froo drinks.  It was a daiquiri sort of thing and looked like it contained more fruit than alcohol.  Hell, he might have made it a virgin drink, and she probably wouldn’t have known the difference.

“Okay, well—I gotta get ready,” I told her.  “Just hang here.  You got the best seat in the house.  I’ll come find you after I beat this fucker.”

I grinned, but she just narrowed her eyes a little and looked at me sideways.  Once I was in the locker room, I changed into my green trunks and taped up my feet.  Yolanda came in and taped my wrists, but she didn’t say much of anything.  I knew I had strained things a bit this afternoon, but I put it out of my mind.

You can’t be upset about shit you don’t think about.

After she left, I stretched and waited for my cue.  It came quickly, and I was pumped and ready for it.

Hier kommt die Sonne

My song started playing, and I moved swiftly out of the locker area, up the ramp, and into the roar of the crowd.

Die Sonne scheint mir aus den Händen
kann verbrennen, kann dich blenden

I raised my arms up over my head and balled my hands into tight fists.  I spun in a circle, flexing my back and listening to the screams from the audience.  I leapt forward at the fence in front of me, snarling at the guy on the other side and pounding against the metal a few times to add to the show.

Yolanda escorted me into the cage, felt me up, and then brought in the other guy.  As soon as the cage door slammed shut, he was on me.  I felt a good punch that was definitely hard enough to bruise.  I blocked the next two but let him come forward and get comfortable with what he thought was advantage.

He was quick and threw multiple punches at my face as I backed against the cold metal.  I slammed a fist into his chest and a knee into his gut.  He grunted, and in retaliation, he grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my head, yanked me forward, and then threw me back.  Shouts came from all directions as he stepped back and threw a kick at me.

Big mistake.

I had a hold of his ankle, and twisted his whole leg to the side, nearly turning him completely upside down before dropping him to the mat.  My body followed, landing on top of his with my knees in his gut.  With the wind knocked out of him, he slowed down quite a bit, and his punches lacked the fervor that had been behind them only sixty seconds ago.

“Not ready for me, are you?” I snarled through what was probably a rather maniacal smile.  I punched knuckles down into his face and watched the blood flow from his nose.  His fingers reached for my shoulder, and I felt distinctive tapping against my skin.

Jumping off the mat, I waited for Yolanda to reenter the cage and raise my hand above my head, calling out my victory to all those around.  With bright eyes and muscles bristling with raw energy, I searched out Tria’s table.

As soon as I looked up and saw Tria sitting there at the edge of the cage, her arms wrapped around herself, I could tell right away that something was wrong.  I pushed past Yolanda and headed out, beyond the fence that kept the fighters away from the customers during the battle, and over to where she sat, ignoring people’s attempts to get my attention.

“What is it?” I asked over the bar sounds of music and laughter.  I moved quickly to her side and looked down at her.  Her eyes were red.  “What’s the matter?”

“I…you…oh my God,” she gasped.  “How badly are you hurt?”

“Me?” I questioned.  I reached up and tried to find blood coming from somewhere, but I didn’t think he’d drawn any.  I brought my hand down and looked at my fingers just in case, but they were clean.  “I’m fine.”

“But he…and you…”  She couldn’t seem to get any words out, and I could barely hear her above the noise, so I pulled her back down to the locker room with me and shut the door to the sounds.

“Tria, I’m fine, really.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

I had to laugh.

“Positive—look.”  I spun around in a circle with my arms spread out.  “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Really?”

I shook my head a little, surprised and maybe even secretly thrilled that she was showing concern for me, and this hadn’t been a bad fight at all.  Little wisps of fantasy bobbed around in my head, and they included images of Tria softly kissing bruises and fussing over cuts.

“I don’t have anything to hide here,” I said as I glanced down my body, which was clad in only my trunks.  Still high from the fight and realizing that she cared, the next words just came out with a cocky grin but without any real thought behind them.  “I can show you the rest if you want to be sure.”

Tria’s eyes went wide, and I watched her throat bob as she swallowed.  Her tongue darted out over her lips, and her cheeks flamed red as I realized what I had just said.  My own tongue wet my lips, and I considered making a move, consequences be damned.

At that moment, Yolanda burst through the door.  She stopped short, eyeing us both briefly before crossing her arms and glaring at me.

“There are about twenty people out there waiting to talk to you,” she said, scolding me.  “What’s the holdup?”

She eyed Tria and then looked over to me with a roll of her eyes.

“You two going to be long?  You are still working, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I dismissed Yolanda’s comment.  “I’ll be out in a second.”

Yolanda threw one last look at Tria before she walked out.

“Look, I—”

“I don’t want to hold you up,” Tria said quickly.  “Go on.  Talk to your...um…fans or whatever.”

I took a long breath in and then let it out with a huff through my nose.

“Yeah, I should,” I agreed.  “I need to shower first.”

“Oh…um…right,” Tria stammered.  “I’ll just go back to that table, then.”

“I’ll be out soon.”

I watched her walk out of the locker room, then quickly dropped my trunks and showered.  I was feeling unsettled, and I had to spend a minute clearing my mind before I could walk back out to meet anyone.

I was swarmed as soon as I returned to the bar, and I understood immediately why Yolanda was a little insistent on getting me out there.  Feet First was more of a madhouse than usual with people from all over the place lined up to talk with me about my techniques, favorite holds, and my opinions on one martial art versus another.  I chatted, smiled, and even accepted a couple of drinks before I finally managed to get back to where Tria was sitting.  I nodded to Gary, who was relatively close to her and keeping most of the animals at bay, and dropped down in the seat opposite Tria.

“So, what did you think?” I asked.  I was hyped up from the fight and the attention, and I knew I was beaming like the village moron, just waiting to hear her opinion.

“It’s not what I thought it would be,” she said quietly.

“What did you think it would be?” I asked.  I leaned my elbows on the table to get a little closer so I could hear her.

“Um…more like boxing, I guess.” she stated.  “I thought there would be a referee or something, but there didn’t seem to be any rules.”

“Not many,” I agreed.  “That’s why I like it.”

“He grabbed you by the hair,” she said.  “Is that allowed?”

I shrugged.

“Incentive for me to get a haircut.”  I was still grinning, but as I watched her eyes, the smile left my face, and it was replaced with a lump in my throat and a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“It’s brutal,” she said as she eyed the cage.

I knew by the look in her eyes what she really meant.  She didn’t know what the fighting was going to be like before she saw it.  She didn’t know there would be bloodshed and mayhem.  In her mind, this wasn’t the same as watching me protect her from a group of thugs or from her asshole ex-boyfriend.  This was different.

She didn’t like it.

Sitting against the back of the chair, I brought my drink up to my lips and drained it.  Each and every tiny option I had let creep into my mind since the conversation with Yolanda earlier in the day quickly expelled itself from any realm of possibility.

I was a fighter.  It wasn’t just a matter of making a living—it was a way of life for me.  I loved it.  I loved it, and I would never, ever consider doing anything else, and Tria would never want anything to do with it.

Her next words pretty much sealed my thoughts in granite.

“How can two people just do that to each other?” Tria asked softly.  Her eyes stayed on the cage.  “You don’t know each other.  You’ve never wronged each other.  Why?  Why would you do that for…for…for what?”

She turned to me, and we stared at one another, our gaze locked.

“Is it just for the money?” she asked.

“No.”  I shook my head.

“You really do like being in there, don’t you?”

I could only nod.

“Doesn’t it…hurt?”  Her eyes became intense and filled with unshed tears, and I could sense her need to understand.

“It makes me feel,” I said quietly.  I nodded my head toward the chain links.  “Inside there, I’m alive.”

“And the rest of the time?” she whispered.

“I’m just…
existing
.”

Everything I had told Yolanda ran through my mind again.  There was no way I was a good match for Tria even if I was inclined to consider taking a chance on another actual relationship.  She would never be all right with what I did for a living, and it was the only thing that had kept me sane for nearly a decade.

I had to forget the very notion.

I was never one to try to attain the unattainable, but I still found it hard to let go.