He’s the hottest MMA fighter in the game, but one woman is ready to try out a few steamy moves of her own in an unforgettable new novel from New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster

With the life he’s led and the muscles he’s gained, Armie Jacobson isn’t afraid of anything. Except maybe Merissa Colter’s effect on him. It’s not just that she’s his best friend’s little sister. Fact is, she deserves better. Women pursue him for one night of pleasure, and that’s all he wants to offer. Until rescuing Merissa from a robbery leads to the most erotic encounter of his life.

Good girl meets bad boy. It’s a story that rarely ends well. But Merissa is taking matters into her own hands. No matter how he views himself, the Armie she knows is brave, honorable and completely loyal. And as past demons and present-day danger collide, they’re both about to learn what’s truly worth fighting for…

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster

“Foster brings her signature blend of heat and sweet to her addictive third Ultimate martial arts contemporary.”

—Publishers Weekly on Tough Love (starred review)

“Readers will be thrilled with Foster’s new sexy batch of fight club heroes and the women who love them.”

—Kirkus Reviews on No Limits

“Storytelling at its best! Lori Foster should be on everyone’s auto-buy list.”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author

Sherrilyn Kenyon on No Limits

“Foster’s writing satisfies all appetites with plenty of searing sexual tension and page-turning action in this steamy, edgy, and surprisingly tender novel.”

—Publishers Weekly on Getting Rowdy

“Foster hits every note (or power chord) of the true alpha male hero.”

—Publishers Weekly on Bare It All

“A sexy, believable roller coaster of action and romance.”

—Kirkus Reviews on Run the Risk

“Bestseller Foster…has an amazing ability to capture a man’s emotions and lust with sizzling sex scenes and meld it with a strong woman’s point of view.”

—Publishers Weekly on A Perfect Storm

“Foster rounds out her searing trilogy with a story that tilts toward the sizzling and sexy side of the genre.”

—RT Book Reviews on Savor the Danger

“Steamy, edgy, and taut.”

—Library Journal on When You Dare

Fighting Dirty
Lori Foster

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

I’m so excited to finally bring you Armie’s book!

Every ongoing series I’ve written seems to have had that one fan-favorite secondary character—the hero readers can’t wait to see finally get a happy-ever-after. In the case of my Ultimate series, about mixed martial arts (MMA) fighters and the women they fall for, it’s safe to say that Armie Jacobson stole the show. With his cocky charm, strict code of honor, dedication to his friends, and boundless appreciation for the female population (not to mention his awesome T-shirt collection), Armie definitely leaves his mark.

But Armie is more than just a good-time guy. Those of you who’ve read the previous books in the Ultimate series—Hard Knocks, No Limits, Holding Strong and Tough Love—have seen Armie privately begin to grapple with both demons from the past and his fierce attraction to Merissa Colter, the one woman he believes is forever out of his reach. In Fighting Dirty, those internal battles take center ring as Armie is forced to contend with old scars…and come to terms with his love for Merissa once and for all.

His road hasn’t been an easy one, but I hope you’ll find his story was worth the wait.

Fingers and toes crossed that you enjoy Armie and Merissa’s romance. And of course, you’re always welcome to reach out to me. I’m active on most social media forums including Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Goodreads, and my email address is listed on my website at lorifoster.com.

Happy reading to all,

PS: Some of you will recognize Jude Jamison from his own book, Jude’s Law. He was the first MMA fighter I wrote, so it seemed appropriate to let him pop in for a few cameos!

Here’s to awesome reader Kizzie Brown,

who allowed me to “borrow” her name so that

she could be one of the more persistent,

outrageous ladies from Armie’s past. Kizzie,

I hope you enjoy your small role in the book. And

please accept my thanks for all the terrific reviews.

I hope my stories never disappoint you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dear Reader

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“JESUS, QUICK. YOU’RE A freak of nature. You know that, right?”

Armie Jacobson, known as Quick to his fighter friends, ignored the complaint and threw a few more jabs, then a solid body shot, making Justice, a six-foot-five heavyweight, double over. Stepping back, Armie flexed his hands, bounced on the balls of his feet and waited.

Unfortunately, Justice only put his hands on his knees and sucked air.

Frowning, Armie removed his mouthpiece. “Seriously? Come on, dude. Let’s go.”

“Screw you.” Schlepping back to his corner, Justice grabbed up a water bottle. He doused his head and chest and then started chugging.

Aware of others watching, Armie said nothing. Everyone worked out, trained and sparred in the rec center, but lately, whenever he did, a dozen or more people stopped to watch. He didn’t mind an audience. Hell, he couldn’t be a competitor if he did. For the most part he paid no attention. Once he got in the cage, he went into a zone and the world receded.

But this insane ogling shit, as if he was a damned sideshow, bugged him big-time.

A trickle of sweat tracked down his temple from his headgear, and he swiped a forearm over his face. His muscles burned and more sweat soaked his chest, abs and rolled down his spine. He was figuring out what to say to Justice to get him back in action when he picked up her scent. The faint perfume cut through the rec center air, thick with the smells of sweaty men working hard.

Trying to look casual, Armie stared at Justice but in his peripheral vision he saw her striding across the room. No mistaking that long-legged gait, or that longer dark hair. He swallowed, frozen.

“What?” Justice asked, sounding both suspicious and ridiculously alarmed with the way Armie had locked onto him.

Armie shook his head—and thankfully Merissa disappeared into the hallway leading to the offices.

Releasing a breath, he looked toward the clock and frowned. Yeah, they’d been at it for a while, maybe longer than he’d intended. His cardio was better than most, definitely better than Justice’s, the big lug.

Armie walked over to him. “You need to get more gas in the tank.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

When Armie grinned, Justice eyed him warily. “Stop it.”

That switched his grin to a frown. “Bitchy much?”

Justice slouched against the wall and glared back. “You shouldn’t be able to grin, you prick. You should be as tired as me.”

A natural trainer, Armie took pity on him. “You’re a lot bigger.” As a six-foot-tall middleweight, Armie stood five inches shorter and weighed a lot less than Justice.

“Lotta good it does me.”

Squatting down in front of him, Armie said low, “People are watching, so stop whining.”

Justice’s gaze slipped past him and he groaned.

“Yeah, the big dogs are here again.” Damned nosy bastards. Ever since he’d signed with the SBC, the powers-that-be had been scoping him out like their newest lab rat. “Stand up, go another two minutes with me, then we’ll call it quits.”

Huffing out a breath, Justice lumbered to his feet. “Freak of nature,” he muttered again, but he followed Armie out to the center of the ring, and he did his best.

His best was nowhere near good enough against Armie.

But then, they fought for very different reasons.

Twenty minutes later, fresh from the showers, Armie was ready to head out. The mid-February weather left frost on every surface, so he tugged on a stocking hat over his still-wet hair and pulled a thick hooded sweatshirt on over his clothes. Carrying his gym bag, he entered the main area cautiously. This late in the day, the mats were now cleared. Miles and Brand took their turn mopping with sanitizer. Many of the lights were turned down and only the core group of friends remained, clustered together in conversation.

The SBC heads were gone, and better still, he didn’t see Merissa anywhere. She’d probably just been dropping off paperwork for her brother, Cannon, who owned the rec center.

Relieved, Armie started for the door. With any luck, he’d manage it before someone stopped him—

“Hey, Armie.”

Damn. After a slight hesitation, he turned to where Denver, Stack and Cannon all stood together. “What’s this? The three Married Musketeers?”

Stack, who’d only married a month ago, reeked of satisfaction. “Aw, he’s jealous.”

Yup. But since he’d die before admitting it, Armie said, “Nope.”

Denver, still a newlywed himself, grinned. “Probably lonely, too, poor guy.”

Very. Groupies, orgies and random one-night stands could only take a guy so far. He had a rep for sexual excess, and that’s what the ladies wanted from him. That, and nothing more.

Checking the time, Armie said, “I could be lonely with three very nice ladies if you yahoos would let me leave.”

Unlike the others, Cannon didn’t laugh. “Seriously? Again?”

Why the hell did his best friend have to sound so disapproving? And if he knew why Armie had made those plans, he’d probably be pissed as well as disapproving, because it was thoughts of Cannon’s little sis that he worked so hard to obliterate. Not that a foursome would accomplish much beyond taking the edge off. His obsession with Merissa seemed to amplify by the day.

Copping an attitude, Armie shrugged. “Yeah, really. Unless you have something—” or someone “—better for me to do?”

“As a matter of fact, that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Well hell. He hadn’t figured on that. Armie ran a hand over his hair. “Then let’s hear it.”

“Yvette wanted everyone to come over tonight to hang out and visit.”

Armie adored Yvette. She was perfect for Cannon and a real sweetheart. But damn... “Who all will be there?”

With a very knowing smile, Cannon said, “Everyone important to us. So don’t miss it.”

Double damn. Merissa definitely counted as important.

Armie didn’t want to, but with all the guys eyeballing him, how could he refuse? “What time?”

“Now.”

Armie scowled. “What do you mean, now?”

“Now, as in you don’t have time to do anything else, so forget it.”

Justice came dragging out, his faux-hawk hair still wet, his goatee in need of a trim, and his cauliflower ears worse than ever. He shoulder-bumped Armie as he passed. “If you hadn’t been determined to cripple me, maybe you’d have had more time for playing.”

“Wuss,” Armie accused with a grin.

“He has a point,” Brand said as he pushed a mop bucket toward them.

Miles, giving one last swipe of the mat, followed him. “Keep pushing that hard and you’re liable to hurt something before the competition.”

“I still have two months.” Two months of freedom and he’d spend it however he wanted. Sure, Armie knew there were established training methods, but they weren’t for him. Never had been, never would be—no matter who he fought for.

“This isn’t local fighting anymore,” Denver reminded him.

As if he’d forget.

“Carter Fletcher isn’t a slouch,” Miles added. “You might not walk through him like you do the local guys.”

“They call him Chaos for a reason.” Brand frowned. “I’ve seen him fight and he’s unpredictable.”

Yeah, so his first opponent was supposed to be a stud. Big deal. Armie shrugged to show he didn’t really care. Not that long ago the SBC, the most widely known MMA organization, had run him to ground and all but coerced him into signing on with them. Cannon had helped with that, pushing him to take the next step since he’d already demolished all the records in local venues.

It was a big step, too, something all the other guys had worked for. The SBC paid a lot more and offered incredible name recognition. Their fighters traveled the world to compete.

But Armie liked being low-key; it was a hell of a lot safer for multiple reasons. If it wasn’t for Cannon—

“He’ll do fine against Carter,” Cannon said. “And don’t worry about his training. Armie motivates differently, that’s all.”

Always, no matter what, Cannon had his back. As the only other person to know why he’d avoided fame and fortune, Cannon understood. They weren’t related, but they were brothers all the same.

Which was the second biggest reason he couldn’t, shouldn’t, crave Merissa the way he did. Cannon protected those he loved.

And he loved his sister a lot.

“It’s getting late,” Cannon added. “Don’t want to keep Yvette waiting.”

Glad for the switch in topic, Armie pulled out his phone. “Guess I better make some calls and let the ladies know I won’t make it after all.”

Stack looked at Denver. “If it was anyone but Armie, I’d think he was making it up.”

“Lonely,” Denver confirmed.

Armie walked away knowing they were right.

* * *

MERISSA COLTER LEANED against the counter in the kitchen, sipping a wine cooler and watching as Yvette prepared a platter of lunch meat and cheeses. “You sure you don’t want my help?”

Yvette flashed her a happy smile. “There’s not that much to do. Besides, you’re dressed so cute tonight, I don’t want to risk you getting messy.”

Looking down at herself, Merissa said, “I just felt like a change, you know?”

Smile sly, Yvette nodded, then wiped her hands on the apron she wore. “It’s nice for a lady to switch things up every now and then. And with your long legs, that’s a good look for you.”

“Vanity shopped with me.” Vanity was Yvette’s best friend, now Stack’s wife, and a regular fashion plate without trying. “She insisted on the boots.”

“With heels,” Yvette enthused, since Merissa almost always wore flats. “I approve.”

“It’s just that I’m so blasted tall—”

“Like a model.”

“I don’t know.” More often than not, she felt gangly, not model-worthy.

“Trust me,” Yvette said as she laid out the last pieces of cheese on her lunch-meat display. “You’d be terrific. Everything you wear looks amazing on you. You’re slim but still shapely.”

Merissa choked over that. “I’m barely in a B cup. Nothing shapely about that.”

From the kitchen doorway came a sound and Merissa looked up to see Brand, Miles and Leese all standing there grinning at her. They were all three gorgeous, all three buff, all three talented.

But none of them were Armie.

How she felt about them, and vice versa, wasn’t anything close to romantic. But still, heat rushed into her face. After all, they’d just heard her discussing her boobs.

Looking around for a weapon, Merissa grabbed up the dishcloth and threw it at them. “Pretend you didn’t hear that!”

“Too late.” Leese caught the towel, then carried it over to the sink. “Whatever you think you’re missing, let me tell you, it’s all there.” He looked back at the other two fighters. “Am I right?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“Definitely.”

Humiliated, but appreciating their input, Merissa laughed. “You guys are my friends. You have to say that.”

Crossing his heart, Leese insisted, “Honest truth.” He snagged three beers from the fridge, then tossed one to Brand and the other to Miles.

With his sinfully dark gaze moving over her, Brand stepped farther into the kitchen. “And that getup?” He cocked a brow. “Smokin’ hot.”

She suddenly felt very conspicuous in her V-necked tunic sweater, tights and ankle boots.

“There, you see?” Yvette said. “You’re gorgeous. Who cares if you’re not top-heavy?”

She cared.

“It’s the whole package,” Miles insisted. He and Brand both had dark hair, but Miles’s eyes were bright green, his smile crooked, and he flirted with every woman alive. “Trust me.”

Leese ran a hand over his inky-black hair, his pale blue eyes playful. “I’m an ass man, myself.” He winked, letting her know she fit the bill.

It was a wonder she could think at all when surrounded by so many certified hunks. Maybe if she felt about one of them the way she felt about Armie, her life would be easier.

Yvette started forcing them all from the kitchen. “Stop embarrassing her.”

“We were reassuring her,” Brand protested.

The guys dragged their feet, making Yvette work at getting them clear of the door. After they’d gone, Yvette’s smile lingered and her eyes were warm with happiness.

Merissa knew something was going on. Both her brother and Yvette glowed. Setting aside her wine cooler, she asked, “So, what’s up with you and Cannon?”

Humming, Yvette got down a bowl and filled it with chips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Uh-huh.”

Just then Armie stuck his head in the kitchen. “Hey, Yvette...” His voice trailed off when he spotted Merissa.

Expression arrested, Armie’s attention crawled down her body, taking in every detail. His chest expanded on a slow breath. Merissa didn’t move. Seeing him had an entirely different effect on her than she’d had with the other men. Just about everyone had commented on her new duds. But this was Armie. She didn’t want his opinion to matter—yet it did.

Belatedly, his gaze came back up to her face and locked with hers. His jaw flexed. His dark eyes consumed her and just when she thought she’d pass out from lack of oxygen, he started to turn away.

Clearly Armie hadn’t expected to see her and hadn’t wanted to see her. It hurt.

Yvette stopped him. “Armie! Come on in. What would you like to drink?”

With his back to them, he stalled. Muscles shifted in his shoulders, his upper arms—then he very deliberately relaxed and faced them again. The heat in his eyes had cooled to indifference and his cocky smile almost made her believe she’d imagined the tension. “I’m good.”

Merissa snorted. She didn’t mean to. It just came out.

His dark sinner’s gaze zeroed back in on her. “Something funny, Stretch?”

God, how she hated that nickname! It emphasized her height, but worse, it proved that Armie didn’t see her as a desirable woman. “You? Being good?” She snorted again. “I hope I’m not standing close when lightning strikes you.”

Stepping the rest of the way into the kitchen, he said to Yvette, “I’ll take a beer.”

“Sure.” Yvette poured an unsweetened tea. She handed it to Armie, kissed his cheek, then picked up the platter and carried it to the dining room.

Nonplussed, Armie looked at the glass.

Merissa looked at Armie.

Until recently he’d kept his hair bleached almost white, but lately he’d left it alone and now it was back to a more natural dark blond. Still a little spiky, but not such a dramatic contrast to his chocolate-brown eyes. Tattoos lined his forearms, and though she couldn’t see it right now, not with him wearing a shirt, she knew he had another, more understated tat between his shoulder blades.

Faded jeans sat low on his lean hips, hanging a little long over running shoes. Boldly displayed across the front of his snug-fitting black T-shirt were the words FREE ORGASMS.

Merissa cleared her throat. “Don’t like tea?”

“Not particularly.” He set the tea aside and went to the fridge.

With his head stuck inside, Merissa felt free to look over his body. Her gaze went to those colorful tribal tattoos decorating his thick forearms up to his elbows. She didn’t mind them, but she loved the smooth, taut skin over his biceps more. For one startling second his shirt pulled up and she saw a strip of flesh above the waistband of his boxers. Muscles shifted everywhere, sending liquid heat to burn through her system.

She fanned her face. “Yvette is trying to save you from yourself.”

“Lost cause,” Armie muttered as he stepped away with a beer and closed the refrigerator. Leaning back on the table, he popped the tab, lifted the beer to his mouth—and Yvette snatched it away as she reentered the kitchen.

Very sweetly, she said, “Cannon told me you’re on a strict diet for your upcoming fight.”

“It’s two months away!”

“Cannon said you’d say that.”

“Yeah?” His eyes narrowed as he looked around. “Where is your husband?”

Ignoring his implied threat, Yvette laughed.

Armie gave up the hard act. “One beer won’t hurt anything, honey.” He took it back from her. “Promise.”

Yvette didn’t look convinced, but she gave in. “All right. One.” She slanted her gaze to Merissa. “Do me a favor, Rissy, and make sure he behaves.”

Merissa sputtered, but Yvette had already walked off with the chips, again leaving her alone in the kitchen with Armie.

His expression carefully blank, his muscles tensed, Armie looked at her.

She let out a long, dramatic sigh. “One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mis—”

He frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing how long it takes you to panic and run.”

He took a step back. “I don’t panic.”

“Bull.” She pushed away from the counter and saw his eyes flare. “Ever since that ill-fated kiss a few months ago, you see me and hightail it in the opposite direction. But don’t worry, Armie. You’re safe from my evil clutches. I got the message loud and clear.” Leaving her drink on the counter, she started off.

Armie caught her arm.

Just that. His big hand wrapped around her upper arm, warm, strong. Gentle but firm.

Her back to him, her heartbeat thundering, Merissa waited. He said nothing, but after a few seconds his thumb moved over her skin. It almost stopped her heart, and how pathetic was that? He didn’t want her. He’d made it as plain as he could. Back in November he’d kissed her, and then immediately told her it was a mistake. Now it was February and in all that time he’d barely even looked at her.

“I don’t mean to run you off.” He stepped closer. Close enough that she felt the warmth of his body.

Shoring up her resistance, forcing herself to remember her new resolve, Merissa turned to face him. Her height and the small heels on her boots put her on a level with him.

He stared into her eyes, and then down at her mouth.

Desperate yearning stole her breath and turned her denial into a whisper. “No.”

“No?” he asked, just as softly.

Flattening both hands to the front of that ridiculous shirt, her palms over his solid chest, she stepped him back. “You kissed me once. Felt like you meant it at the time—until you got all disgusted.”

His chin hitched. “Disgusted? Not even.”

Undeterred, Merissa pressed a fist to her heart. “You leveled me, Armie. You made me feel terrible. Over a single kiss. So yeah, I get it. You don’t want me. Understood. Believe me, I don’t want to put myself through that again.”

Before she could move he caught her arm once more.

She stared at him, waiting, some small part still hopeful that he’d say something to change it all.

He didn’t. His gaze shuttered, his jaw working, he fought himself. And then, as if by force of will, he opened his fingers and turned her loose.

Almost choking on her hurt, Merissa turned to leave—and nearly crashed into her brother. His muscular little mutt, Muggles, yapped at her.

Cannon took one look at her and drew her into his side. “Hey, you okay?”

Armie made to move past them, but without accusation, Cannon blocked him.

Merissa muttered, “I’m taking off. It was a long day and I’m beat.”

He kissed her forehead. “All right.” Turning to Armie, he included them both when he said, “Yvette has an announcement to make first.”

Keeping his arm around her, Cannon led her to the living room. Muggles ran up to Yvette, who stood at the front of the room with that giddy smile back on her face. All around her were their friends Denver and Cherry, Stack and Vanity, Gage and Harper. The single guys—Leese, Justice, Brand and Miles—had all arrived solo, so maybe they’d known this would be a party with an intimate announcement.

Guessing their news, Merissa found another smile, too. “Go on,” she told Cannon. “I’m fine.”

He hugged her, then joined Yvette up front. He scooped up the dog in one arm and put his other around his wife.

Feeling a little giddy herself, Merissa ignored Armie at her side and just concentrated on her brother’s happiness.

Leaning her head on Cannon’s shoulder, Yvette said, “I’m pregnant!”

And Cannon, so much in love, added with satisfaction, “We’re having a baby.”

The cheers were nearly deafening, and that set Muggles to howling in excitement, his pudgy legs pumping as he tried to run. Everyone started hugging everyone else and somehow... Yeah. Merissa ended up against Armie.

He looked as stunned as she felt, but only for a second. Then he grinned, hugged her off her feet and whirled her. When he set her back down, his grin tapered off to a fond smile. “You’re going to be an aunt.”

“A baby.” Tears pricked her eyes and her own smile kept twitching. “I can’t wait.”

When Cannon regained everyone’s attention, they faced forward again. But this time, Armie slipped his arm over her shoulders. It was so much like the old days when she’d been younger and Armie was always around, teasing her and looking out for her. Just being there. Emotions swelled.

“I’ve known for a little while now,” Yvette said.

That got everyone playfully complaining.

“We had Denver’s fight, and then he and Cherry got married,” Cannon explained. “Then Stack and Vanity turned Vegas into a wedding, and we figured that was all good news enough.”

“Ours could wait,” Yvette said. “But now I’m so glad to share.”

“Must be something in the air,” Vanity said. “Stack’s sister is expecting, too.”

Denver cocked a brow at Cherry, but she hurriedly said, “No. Not me. I’m enjoying being a wife for a while.”

Vanity saluted her. “Hear, hear.”

For the next hour everyone chatted and laughed, discussing everything from names to nursery furniture to a baby shower. The food Yvette had set out got devoured in record time and overall, the mood remained jovial. After she’d put in enough time for Cannon and Yvette to know she was thrilled with their news, Merissa decided to slip away. Or at least, she tried to. Armie followed her without being obvious to others. She, of course, was acutely aware of his nearness. If he looked at her, she felt it like a warm touch. Whenever he brushed against her, it hit her like a jolt. Maybe he could take it, but she couldn’t.

For the sake of her own pride, she needed away from him. Right now.

Yet when she hugged her brother and Yvette goodbye, Armie was there. She pulled on her coat and bumped into him. Without bothering to button up, intent only on escape, Merissa darted outside.

Finally alone, she paused a moment and concentrated on regrouping. The brisk evening air stung her nose and a chilling wind cut through her. She closed her coat and turned up the collar.

She’d just taken a deep breath when the door opened again and Armie stepped out.

The porch light illuminated them and part of the yard with its yellow glow. In nothing but his T-shirt, shoulders up against the cold, Armie watched her.

“What,” Merissa demanded, “are you doing?”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I wanted to talk a second.”

No and no. She didn’t want to talk. She already knew what he’d say anyway. “Not necessary.” She turned and headed to her car, and damn him, he stayed right on her heels. At the curb she spun to face him. “Armie!”

One side of his mouth curled. “Rissy.”

She threw up her hands in an expression of frustration.

He rubbed one eye, the back of his neck. Dropping his hands, he stared at her. “That kiss?”

Shocked, all the air dragged from her lungs, she went still.

“From a few months ago,” he clarified, as if she didn’t remember, as if it didn’t replay in her mind almost nonstop, every single day. “In Rowdy’s bar?”

“Right. I remember.” Although she often wished she could forget.

She’d tried hitting on Leese, just to shake off her melancholy over Armie. But Leese was a pretty awesome guy and he’d let her down easy, while making it clear he’d be on board except he knew her heart was elsewhere. Since then, she and Leese had become even closer friends.

“What about that kiss?”

For the longest time Armie stared at her, then he stepped closer and breathed, “Hottest fucking thing I’ve ever felt.”

Oh God. She couldn’t hear this. She couldn’t feed the hope.

“I’m going to be straight with you.”

Her heart punched. “Okay.”

“There’s not a thing in this universe I’d enjoy more than having you.”

Having her? Just hearing him say it made her body react.

He touched her hair, smoothed it back over her shoulder. “Not winning the lottery. Not a title belt. Nothing.”

His thumb moved over her neck and her pulse leaped.

“I’ve thought about it,” he whispered. “A lot.”

“Me, too.”

“Shh.” He touched a fingertip to her lips to quiet her. “I seriously doubt we’re thinking the same things.”

She badly wanted to know what he thought. Armie was known for his sexual excesses and the variety of his experience. Far too often she tortured herself wondering what things Armie might want to do with her.

“And that’s the problem,” he added.

She wanted to cry that there was no problem, but she could already see he wouldn’t listen.

“I want you, Rissy. That should never be in question.” He held her chin, searched her face, and repeated, “Never.”

And there it was: unrelenting hope. Unsure what to say, she nodded.

“But more than that, I want you to have better than me.”

Wait... “What?” He couldn’t be serious. Better than him? Did he not know what an amazing man he was? How could that be? He had friends who cared about him. He had Cannon, and damn it, her brother was the finest man she knew. Cannon wouldn’t be best friends with a man who wasn’t every bit as awesome.

“I know you’re leaving your brother’s house because of me, and that’s the last thing that should ever happen. I don’t want to chase you away from your family. I don’t want to make you feel bad.”

“Too late.”

His face tightened. He dropped his hands and took a step back. “This is where you have to help me.” Looking far too serious, he said, “I don’t ever want to hurt you—you have to know that. So you need to get your priorities straight.”

She shook her head—but he said it anyway.

“Move on. Find yourself a good guy. Hell...” He choked a little, then whispered, “Settle down, get married, have kids of your own.”

Without him.

That’s what he meant. Do all of that—without him. A refreshing wave of anger helped to smother some of the awful pain. “You think I can’t?”

“I know you can.” He swallowed. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”

That made her laugh. Any man—other than him. “Did you notice my new look? I mean, all the other guys did.”

Very quietly, he confirmed, “I noticed.”

“Well, that’s me, moving on.” She flipped her hair. “New look, new attitude. I might even take a new position at the bank.” A different managerial position that would give her some distance from Armie. Sucked that she’d also be farther away from her brother—especially since she’d soon be an aunt—but she didn’t know any other way. “I’ve decided to take a page from your book, Armie.”

“Jesus.”

“What? You think you’re the only one to play the field, to get a little wild? I want experiences, too.” She’d wanted those experiences with him, but never would she beg him. “Go on about your life with a clear conscience—because I’ll be going on with mine.”

Jerking away, she got in her car and fumbled for her keys. Armie stood there, rigid, his gaze unreadable. And somehow, despite being a real badass, he looked wounded.

Finally, when she got the car started, Armie walked off, across the street in front of her to the other curb, where he got in his truck. Breathing hard, Merissa stared at him until he gunned the engine and pulled away.

Going the opposite direction of her. Always.

And damn it, it cut so deep she couldn’t stop the tears. Because this time she knew it was over—when it had never really begun.

CHAPTER TWO

MID-FEBRUARY TURNED INTO early March and Armie didn’t see Rissy at all. Not at the rec center, not at Rowdy’s bar where everyone usually hung out on Friday and Saturday night, and not at her brother’s house. He wanted to ask about her but knew he didn’t have the right.

Sitting alone at the bar, drinking a freaking lemon water, he only half listened as Miles and Brand talked about upcoming fights at the table opposite him. Women tried to get his attention but he didn’t have any interest. He’d put up a good front, given it a shot several times, and he’d probably convinced everyone with his bullshit, but the truth was that he hadn’t had any real interest in a good long while.

Not since that day he’d finally tasted Rissy.

His gaze went to the small hallway in Rowdy’s bar. Dim and narrow, it led to an office and the johns. Months ago he’d caught Rissy there and for a few minutes he’d lost the fight. Mouth on mouth, tongues playing, damp heat and a firestorm of sensation. Remembering, he closed his eyes and gave in to the surge of molten lust. God Almighty, she’d tasted good. Felt good. Fit against him perfectly.

An elbow to his ribs got his eyes open again. Instead of one of the guys, it was Vanity, Stack’s wife, who slid onto a stool beside him. “What?” he asked.

“You tell me,” she said, her gaze unwavering, her nails tapping on the bar counter.

Gorgeous beyond words with long blond hair, a killer body and an angel’s face, Vanity was still one of the most down-to-earth, kindhearted people he knew. “Is that supposed to make sense to me, Vee?”

“Yes. You’re moping and I want to know why.”

Stack stood behind his wife and braced an arm on the bar. “It’s the upcoming fight,” Stack predicted. “He’s getting cold feet.”

“No way,” Justice said, taking a seat behind Armie.

Armie looked back and forth between them. “Sure, join me. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Vanity patted his arm in a pitying way. “We don’t stand on formality, not when we see a friend moping.”

“I’m not moping,” he denied. God, he was so moping.

Justice laughed. “I’ve watched five different women hit on you. All fuckable—excuse me, Vanity—and you made excuses to all of them.”

“No offense taken,” Vanity said, and then to Armie, “Seriously? Are you off the market?”

She looked way too pleased by that notion.

Stack laughed. “That’s even more ridiculous than my gibe about him having cold feet.”

A brunette approached the bar and Armie swallowed a groan. Of course he remembered her, but he pretended he didn’t.

Because he was a dick like that.

“Armie?” Ignoring the others, she trailed a finger up his arm and over his shoulder. “I’m free tonight.”

“Yeah?” Armie looked at Justice. “So is he. You two should hook up.”

Justice straightened. “Gospel truth, ma’am.”

The brunette’s eyes narrowed. “I was talking to you, Armie.”

“And I handed you off. Take it or leave it.”

Vanity slugged him.

Stack coughed.

Justice just looked hopeful.

The brunette asked expectantly, “Will you join us?”

“No!” Justice said quickly. “He won’t.”

Armie looked at the lady’s pout, Vanity’s disapproving expression, Justice’s appalled frown, and he had to laugh. “If you’ll all excuse me?”

Paying no attention to questions, he threw some bills on the bar and took off. Halfway toward the door, Miles called out to him.

Armie kept going.

Two women tried to waylay him, but he pretended not to notice. Once outside, he sucked in the cold evening air, but it did nothing to clear his head. And suddenly, without looking behind him, he knew Cannon was there. “Shit.”

Cannon laughed. “You’re okay to drive?”

Working to clear all emotion from his face, Armie turned to his friend. “Can’t get drunk on nasty lemon water, now can I?”

“Is that what you wanted to do? Get drunk?”

No, he wanted to drag Merissa to bed and keep her there until his blood no longer burned and lurid thoughts of her cleared out of his brain. He popped his neck, shook his head and said, “I don’t know.”

“It’s not the fight.” Folding his arms, Cannon leaned back on the outside wall of Rowdy’s bar. “I know you too well to think you’re concerned about Carter.”

“I’ll either win the fight or not. I’m prepared.” Armie shrugged, showing his indifference. He never thought in terms of winning or losing. Just winning. And to that end he did what he needed to do to ensure success.

“Everyone assumes there’s added pressure because you’ll be in the SBC now. But again,” Cannon stated, “I know you better than that.”

“A fight is a fight,” Armie confirmed. “The size of the crowd—”

“Or the size of the paycheck?”

“—doesn’t matter to me.”

“I know.” Cannon lifted a brow. “So you want to tell me what’s eating at you?”

A bad case of desperate lust for your little sister. Not something he’d ever share. Rather than deny the problem, Armie shook his head. “I’ll deal with it.”

“By avoiding sex?”

He jutted his chin. “Who says I am?”

Cannon didn’t blink. “Man, I know you. Better than anyone. You thought I wouldn’t notice when you went cold turkey?”

That so shocked Armie that he took a step back. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. If he tried to blame it on fight preparation, Cannon would just laugh at him again. “I don’t suppose you’d butt out?”

“Sure. If that’s what you really want.” Cannon straightened away from the wall. “But if you want to talk, if you need anything—”

“I know.” Once, a lifetime ago, Cannon had been the only person to back him. Against all odds and ugly accusations, he’d stood with Armie and never, not once, showed a single shadow of doubt. Uncomfortable with the idea of ever again being that needy, Armie flexed his shoulders and said, “Thanks, but it’s fine.”

“I know that.” Cannon squeezed his shoulder. “You just need to start believing it.”

Armie glared at his friend as he went back into the bar. He didn’t need that melodramatic crap heaped on him. Breathing hard, he looked around at the moon-washed blacktop, the frost-covered bus bench, then up at the inky, star-studded sky.

What was Merissa doing right now? Was she with another man—as he’d suggested?

It’s what he wanted, what would be best—for her—but at the same time... Jesus, it tortured him.

After the life he’d led, the background he’d overcome and the physical ability he’d gained, he wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone, except Merissa Colter’s effect on him. That scared him all right. Bone-deep, heart-sucking fear.

He glanced back, and through the big front window of the bar he saw his friends. Merissa’s friends. Only she wasn’t there—because of him.

It was past time he stopped being a coward so instead he’d face the fear. Tomorrow morning, he’d face her.

And somehow he’d make it all right.

* * *

MOST PEOPLE THOUGHT bank managers worked a perfect nine-to-five job. Ha! As Merissa looked from the impatient customers still in line to her harassed tellers and the clock, she knew it’d be another late day. What should have been five minutes more would likely turn into at least half an hour.

The phone rang, and as she went to answer it the front door opened again. Along with a gust of cold air, two male customers stepped in, bundled up in heavy winter coats and stocking hats, with thick knit scarves around their throats.

Right behind them was...Armie.

Unlike the other men, he wore only an open flannel over his thermal shirt. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold, his blond hair disheveled as usual, and he looked so good her heart skipped a beat, then went into double time.

For weeks now she’d been telling herself she was okay—better, in fact—without him. She’d almost convinced herself, too. But one look at him and she was right back to sick-in-love with him all over again.

“Hello? Are you there?”

Realizing she hadn’t said anything after lifting the phone receiver, Merissa pulled her gaze away from Armie and went into professional mode. Or at least she tried to.

The second Armie looked at her, her skin prickled and butterflies took flight in her stomach. She sank back in her padded chair, glad for the support.

The annoyed customer had overdrawn his account and wanted the bank to waive the fees. Merissa only listened with half an ear and finally, unable to concentrate anyway, she agreed and transferred the call over to one of her tellers.

Since it was now time to close she needed to lock the door, but that would mean she’d have to go past Armie. She waffled, deciding what to do, but then he took the decision from her and approached.

Jumping to her feet, she met him at the door to her office. As casually as she could, she said, “Hey, Armie.”

His gaze dipped over her. This time, being at work, she wore a button-front sweater, long skirt and flat boots, but his attention sizzled all the same. He flexed a shoulder, shifted. “Could we talk?”

Again? Hadn’t he said enough? For someone who wanted nothing to do with her, he sure liked to chat.

“Armie,” she whispered, feeling conspicuous, because seriously, no one in the bank would overlook him. He had that type of presence: big, badass, capable. And sexy.

So damned sexy.

He continued to watch her in that sharply focused way, his gaze warm and steady, and she caved. “Okay, fine. But I have to lock the front door, and then it’s going to take me some more time before I’m done here.”

“Because you’re closing, I know. No problem.” He released a breath. “I’ll wait.”

As Armie headed to the couch in the corner of the bank, one of the men who’d come in ahead of him strode toward her. Standing at her office door, ready to politely redirect him back to the teller line, Merissa smiled—and he literally pushed his way in.

Incredulous, she took an automatic step away from him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He shut the door. Hat pulled low, the scarf hiding most of his face, he withdrew a gun and said with silky menace, “Shh.”

Her mouth went dry—especially when those narrowed eyes coasted over her body.

“But—”

“You and me,” he said, shushing her again, “are going to play in here while my buddy takes care of business out there. And, honey, you better play nice.”

Fear and shock immobilized Merissa as she realized she was in the middle of a robbery—and oh dear God, Armie was on the other side of the door.

* * *

THE SECOND HER office door snapped shut, Armie knew something was wrong. He felt it in his guts. He took one step—and the dude in front of him withdrew a gun.

Son of a bitch.

“Everyone be cool,” the man shouted, stepping back to encompass all the customers and tellers in one sweep of that weapon. “Arms up, tellers. Now! My partner has your manager. Anyone hits a panic button and she’s the first to go.”

Until that last statement, Armie might have let it play out. But at the mention of Merissa being held against her will, dread and rage swirled together in a combustible mix. He went rigid, his heartbeat slowing, his focus narrowing.

“No one overreacts. Tellers, unlock your drawers, and remember, make a wrong move and you lose one of your own.”

White-faced, the tellers did as told.

“Great. Now everyone, get to this side of the room.”

Perfect, Armie thought. It put him closer to Merissa’s office. He went along with the small group, using his body to block the elderly couple in front of him and another woman clutching a five-year-old. The last customer, a college-aged guy, watched the robber with sharp-eyed wariness. Two of the tellers were forty-something women. The other was probably in her twenties.

The robber aimed his gun at the younger guy. “You.”

College boy froze.

“Go collect the money. Empty the drawers of bills and rolled quarters. Make it fast.”

The young man said nothing, just took the bag the robber handed him and jogged to the teller line. As he filled the bag, Armie saw that he also kept an eye on things, looking up often.

A noise, like someone landing up against the door, sounded in Merissa’s office. Armie’s senses sharpened further, but otherwise he didn’t move.

The idiot robber laughed, as if amused by whatever he thought might be going down in that small office.

The five-year-old started to cry, drawing the robber’s attention. Armie stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the boy. Surprised, the robber looked into his eyes, and whatever he saw there clearly alarmed him.

“Don’t try it,” the robber warned.

Armie held up his hands—but he didn’t look away.

“Give me the damn money,” the thug shouted, and the college guy came back, holding the bag out to him.

“Set it there,” he said, indicating a kiosk filled with deposit and withdrawal slips. “Then get your ass over there with the others.”

“Okay, sure.”

Impressed, Armie watched the young man set the bag down slowly and back away. College boy looked to be nineteen or twenty at the most, but he was smart, taking his time—giving Armie an opportunity to evaluate things.

The gunman looked skittish. Above the scarf, faded blue eyes repeatedly flinched left and right. The hand holding the gun trembled ever so slightly. He kept shifting his feet as if resisting the urge to run.

Rolling a shoulder, Armie loosened up. Should be a piece of cake.

Another thump sounded in the office and Merissa cried out, sending a stab of fear straight through Armie’s heart and stealing what little patience he had left. Taking a step away from the others, Armie regained the robber’s attention. The college kid, pitching in, went in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing?” Panicked, the thug swung the gun left, then right. “Stop moving. Both of you.”

Making sure the idiot focused on him and only him, Armie inched toward him. “Or what?”

“I’ll fucking shoot you, that’s what!”

Ice-cold with fury, desperate to see Merissa safe, Armie smirked. “Yeah? With the safety on?” Closer and closer.

The guy breathed fast. Even beneath the thick coat, Armie could see the bellowing of his chest. “Glocks don’t have safeties.”

“That’s not a Glock, asshole.”

The second the guy glanced down, Armie kicked out and the gun went flying. It skidded across the floor and under the kiosk. The college kid slid down to his knees, trying to retrieve the gun.

“Help!” the gunman got out a mere second before Armie’s fist met his face, sending him wheeling backward, tumbling over his own feet to wipe out on the floor. His head smacked with a thump, dazing him, keeping him from rebounding to his feet.

More noises sounded from the office.

Already charging toward it, Armie whispered, “Get down!” to the other customers, who, except for the college guy, immediately hunkered on the floor together. That put them to the side of the office door. Armie reached it just as the door flew open. He had only a split second to see Merissa locked in front of the gunman, secured with a meaty arm tight around her throat. Her makeup was smeared, her hair a mess, but her gaze was incendiary. Rage, more than fear, consumed her.

A large bruise already showed on her jaw and she clutched at the restraining arm as if struggling to get air.

The gun, thankfully, wasn’t aimed at her.

The man held it outward on a stiffened arm, giving Armie the perfect opportunity to grab the trigger well with his left hand, and strike the man’s wrist with his right. The bastard didn’t have a chance to get a shot off before Armie had control of the gun.

Cursing, the thug shoved Merissa into Armie, unbalancing them both. He caught her, and as she scrambled to regain her balance, she inadvertently knocked the gun from his hand.

Seeing a ham-sized fist aimed his way, Armie gave her yet another quick push to put her out of harm’s way and took the punch to the chin. It snapped his head back, but hell, he could take a punch. He shook it off—then went about demolishing the bastard who’d dared to touch Merissa.

Armie had always been a fast, adaptable fighter. He moved by rote, adjusting as he needed to, dodging blows while landing his own with added force. The robber was big and muscular. Armie felt the bastard’s nose crunch, saw blood spray from his mouth.

Women screamed and the five-year-old cried.

The college guy yelled something, and a second later the other gunman, who’d finally regained his wits, hefted a fifteen-pound post from a rope barrier used to keep customers in line. He brought it down across Armie’s back.

And mother-fuck, that hurt.

It knocked him to the ground, but it didn’t stop him. Hell, his ground game was as good as his stand-up.

Two to one made it a little trickier. Normally he’d consider that a piece of cake, but not with so many possible victims in the way.

The man who’d hurt Merissa tried to kick him in the ribs while he was down. Armie caught his leg and jerked him to his back. He landed awkwardly, cursed and immediately rolled to a less defenseless position.

The man wasn’t a slouch. As a fighter, Armie recognized right off that the guy had some training.

Merissa tried to assist him, but Armie barked for her to stay back. College boy tried to edge in, but with fists and legs churning fast, it wasn’t easy.

Or necessary.

Both men together were still no match for Armie. He bounced back, regaining his feet just as the second man again swung the heavy post. Armie ducked, but the post clipped him on the forehead, stunning him and sending a trickle of blood into his eyes. He swiped at it, and heard Merissa gasp.

The man who’d followed her into her office had retrieved one of the guns and had it aimed at her, point-blank.

Armie barely remembered moving, but a split second later he stood in front of her, spreading his arms and using his body to shield her.

“Armie,” she pleaded.

Blocking out her shaking voice, he kept her tucked behind him, his gaze locked on the gunman. The robber’s hat was now gone, his scarf askew. But with his face so mangled from Armie’s punches, he didn’t need a disguise.

Odds were his own mother wouldn’t recognize him right now.

His nose, crooked and covered in blood, had turned a sick shade of purple, matching the shiner on his right eye. His lips were swollen, also bloody. Part of a torn nylon stocking drooped around his neck.

Armie focused on his eyes. They were a clearer blue than his pal’s, without an ounce of conscience.

“Armie, please.” Merissa struggled. “Don’t do this!”

With one hand Armie kept her locked behind him. He said nothing. What was there to say?

He’d die before he let her be shot.

The second man pulled at his friend’s coat, urging him to flee while they still could. “I hear sirens! We have to go.”

And still the bastard kept that gun aimed, his indecision thick in the air.

Holding his ground, never breaking eye contact, Armie calmed his breathing and waited to see the verdict.

Those icy-blue eyes smiled at him—and a second later both men bolted.

Armie started to follow, but Merissa fisted both hands in his shirt. “Damn you, no!”

He heard the awful fear in her voice, and reluctantly obeyed her order. When the men disappeared out of sight, Merissa went limp against his back. Soft, warm, safe. Armie swallowed, closed his eyes for only a moment, then turned to her.

She could have died.

He clasped her shoulders. “You’re okay?”

Mouth firmed, she nodded. Then she thwacked his shoulder. “Are you insane?”

He touched her cheek, and her expression softened. “Oh God, Armie, you’re bleeding.”

The bastard had hurt her. “It’s nothing.” Using his shoulder, Armie cleared the blood from his eye, then lightly touched a bruise on her jaw. “Rissy...what happened?”

She crushed herself closer to him, her face in his neck. “Just...give me a second.”

Hands shaking, Armie stroked up and down her back. He didn’t want his blood on her. He didn’t want her tainted in any way. “It’s over now.” Knowing he could have lost her, his eyes burned as he kissed her temple. “It’s over.”

“Yes.” He felt the deep breath she took and the way she stiffened her shoulders. Suddenly stepping away, she swiped her face and, visibly gathering her thoughts, looked around the bank.

Armie did the same.

The college guy finally retrieved the gun from under the kiosk, but he didn’t look keen on using it, thank God. Gingerly, he set it on a stack of deposit slips and was quickly backing away when his eyes widened. “They left the money.”

There, on the floor, was the bag with the money still in it. “Unbelievable.” Armie grabbed it up, put it in Rissy’s office and shut the door.

The tellers were plenty shaken. The little kid clung to his mother, whimpering.

“Everyone okay?”

Pale faces blinked at him. Yeah, unlike Merissa, they probably weren’t used to seeing bloody fights. He lifted the hem of his shirt to clear away more of the mess.

“Thank you, Armie.” All business now, Merissa hurried to the front door and locked it. “I’m sorry,” she said to one and all. “In case those sirens aren’t for us I have to call this in. We all need to stay put until the police get here.” Brisk, she strode toward her office. “Armie, the bathroom is through there.” She pointed. “Valerie, could you show him, please? He needs to...” She swallowed hard. “To clean up the blood. Could someone find a first-aid kit, please?”

Armie stood there, staring after her. He watched her use the phone, saw her nod and replace the receiver. She went to a cabinet and a few seconds later returned with papers in her shaking hands. “The authorities are on their way.” Hastily, she handed out the papers to the other bank employees.

Impressed by her, Armie asked, “What do you have there?”

“Post robbery packets,” she answered, and then to her employees, “Read these again and follow procedure.”

It amazed Armie to see her like this, so take-charge, so in control despite what had just happened. She got a lollipop for the little boy, cans of Coke for the other customers.

With that handled, she turned back to Armie and blew out a breath while looking him over. Neither he nor Valerie had moved. “Oh, Armie.” She took his arm and, treating him like an invalid, started urging him forward.

“Uh...where are you taking me?”

“The bathroom.”

“Why?”

“You’re hurt and bleeding and just standing there.” She stripped his flannel off him and liberally doused the hem under running water in the sink.

Expression far too grave, she gingerly dabbed at the blood from the right side of his face, over his eye and up to his temple. “It looks terrible.”

Valerie silently set a first-aid kit on the sink for her.

When she reached for it, he caught her wrists. “Honey, I’m fine.”

Her throat worked and she shook her head, her gaze going just past his shoulder.

“Rissy, talk to me.”

“I can’t believe you did that.” Her brows pinched together and her lashes lowered. “You almost dared him—”

“Shh.” That small, broken voice squeezed like a vise around his heart. He stepped closer, letting her feel his strength, proving he was unharmed. Because he needed to know, and she maybe needed to talk, he said, “The bastard hit you?”

She nodded.

Glancing at the popped button on her sweater, he strangled on fury but kept his tone soft. “He attacked you?”

Her face tightened and she swallowed convulsively. “He... He said he wanted to—”

“Cops are here!”

“College boy,” Armie said, hoping to lighten her mood. “I like him.”

Her tensed shoulders loosened with the interruption, and she turned brisk again. “Yes. He was helpful.” She rinsed her hands in the sink. “I have to go.”

“I know. We’ll talk later?”

At that she half laughed.

“What?”

“You always want to talk.” Shaking her head, she left the small room and hurried to the front to unlock the door. Two uniformed cops came in, guns drawn, but after a few questions and a quick look around, they holstered their weapons and began separating everyone. One of them tried to insist on calling an ambulance, but Armie shut them down on that. Merissa refused, and nooo way in hell was he leaving her. Besides, he knew his own body well enough to know the thump on his head wasn’t anything serious. He might need stitches, but he’d try taping it first.

Shortly after that an FBI agent came in with Detectives Logan Riske and Reese Bareden. Luckily, Armie knew them both through Cannon.

Cannon. Shit. He had to call him. Armie got his phone out, only to find the screen busted. Shit again. Like all the guys from his inner circle, he carried two phones, the second one for emergencies. Because they’d formed a neighborhood watch, the separate phones were set for a distinctive ring so they’d know when one of the others had something urgent going on. But the second phone wasn’t in his pocket any longer. He could only assume he’d lost it during the skirmish.

He was looking around for it when Logan approached. “Damn, Armie.”

“It’s nothing.” And he was getting tired of telling that to people.

Logan frowned. “I’ll take your word for it.” He nodded at the cell phone. “That got broke in the fight?”

“Yeah.” His muscles remained too tense and his temples throbbed. “I need to let Cannon know. If he hears about this, he’ll die three times before he knows she’s okay.”

“I’ll take care of it. Do me a favor and sit, will you?”

“I want to talk to Merissa—”

Logan stopped him. “Sorry. Protocol. You all have to stay separate until we’ve gotten your stories. We can’t risk anyone’s memory being influenced by something someone else says.”

Yeah, that made sense. He didn’t like it, but he wanted the bastards caught.

He looked around, saw that from the couch he’d be able to see into Merissa’s office, where she was currently speaking with the FBI guy. “All right.” He worked his jaw, then sat. Using his flannel, he continued to clean off his face, but yeah, that wasn’t quite cutting it.

He was a mess and he knew it.

“Stay put.” Logan headed to the bathroom but he had his cell to his ear. Returning, he set a stack of paper towels, some wet, some dry, on the small coffee table littered with magazines. “Cannon wants to talk to you.”

“Sure.” Armie took the phone, saying immediately, “I swear she’s okay.”

“Logan told me.”

Armie recognized that deadly tone from his friend. “You’re on your way?”

“Yeah. Logan said all I can do is wait in the car but I want to be there when she’s done. Let me know when it’s clear to see her, okay?”

“Sure.”

Cannon hesitated. “How about you? Logan said your head is busted?”

“Superficial.” He didn’t mention the strike he’d taken to his back. “I’m fine.” Neither of them said it, but a real injury could’ve screwed him on his SBC debut. Not that missing a fight mattered with Rissy’s safety on the line. “Logan’s waiting to grill me. She really is okay, so drive careful.”

Three hours and a million questions later, with dusting powder everywhere from forensics taking fingerprints, they were finally free to leave. Armie had found his emergency cell kicked under the couch, so he let Cannon know they were coming out.

Meeting his sister at the door, Cannon checked her face and cursed over the darkening bruise there.

Before Cannon could ask any questions, she said, “I’m okay.”

He cupped her face, kissed her forehead, then carefully hugged her. “Thank God.”

Next he turned to Armie, and blew out a breath. “Damn, man.”

“What?”

Eyes narrowed, Cannon checked over Armie much as he had Merissa.

“If you kiss me,” Armie said, “we’re going to have a problem.”

Instead, Cannon gave him a bear hug. Low, he whispered, “Thank you for looking out for her.”

“I was there.” And they both knew that meant he’d do whatever necessary to protect her.

Cannon turned back to his sister. “I heard the basics from Logan, but I want you to tell me what happened.”

She nodded. “I will, but later please. Like...maybe tomorrow? Right now, I just want to get home and shower.”

“I guess we can talk in the morning over coffee.”

She angled up her chin. “I have to be at work by nine.”

Both of them stared at her.

She continued in a brisk tone. “Maybe lunch, if you really want. But honestly, I’d rather wait until after I’m done for the day.”

Cannon spoke first, saying, “You can’t go in to work tomorrow.”

Testy, she asked, “Why not?”

They both verbally stumbled, then Cannon said, “It’s Saturday.”

“So? The bank is open.” She slanted an accusing gaze at Armie. “Do you plan to skip the gym?”

He frowned. “No.” At the moment, nothing appealed more than pounding the hell out of a heavy bag.

“So why would the two of you assume I’d miss work?”

Armie half turned his head. “They expect you to come in?”

“They offered me the day off. I said no thank you.”

Wow. Okay, so it could be that, like him, she needed to stay busy. A day off would only give her time to dwell on the violence.

Firmer now, Cannon said, “Come home with me and we’ll talk it over.”

“It’s my decision,” she said, sparing her brother the heat she’d thrown Armie’s way.

“Yvette is making up the guest room for you.”

“Cannon.” She smiled at him. “I love you so much. Yvette, too. Thank you for offering. But really, I don’t want company tonight, and I don’t want to miss work tomorrow. I just... I want to deal with it, you know?”

He touched her chin. “You don’t have to deal with it alone.”

Her bottom lip quivered, and damn it, Armie couldn’t take it. Like her brother, she had an amazing inner strength. Few strong people wanted to advertise their moments of weakness. “Let up, Cannon. She knows she can count on you, but maybe right now she just wants some privacy.” God knew she’d been through hell and probably felt like crumpling. She needed to let go, but she’d never do that with an audience.

“That’s it exactly,” she said quickly, and then with an appealing pout, “Please understand.”

Cannon studied her face, glanced at Armie and finally relented enough to say, “As long as you check in a few times, tonight before bed and tomorrow before work—”

Her laugh sounded of tears and heartache and gratitude. “I bet you drive Yvette insane.”

Cannon softened. “Grant me the right to worry about the people I love.” He pulled her coat lapels closer under her chin. “It can be one of your usual messages if that makes it easier.”

“Yes, okay.”

Rissy’s usual messages consisted of Rissy was here. She left those three small words in texts whenever someone missed her call. She sometimes left notes, or in his case, wrote in the dust on a truck window. Armie knew her philosophy was that she wanted folks to know she’d stopped by or called, but didn’t want them bothered if they were busy.

Knowing she’d be in touch, Armie felt as much relief as Cannon did.

“I’ll drive you home,” Cannon offered.

She bent another stern look on him. “I want my car. I don’t want to be home without it.”

“Tell you what,” Armie said, seeing her start to shiver in the cold. “Ride with Cannon and I’ll bring your car.”

“But you’re hurt. You need—”

“A shower,” Armie said. “And some sleep.” And he wouldn’t mind getting his hands on those two creeps again. “That’s all.”

She looked at the cut on his head, which had thankfully stopped bleeding due to the butterfly bandage, and then the other bruises on his face.

“You’ve seen me looking worse after fights.”

“Not really.” She searched his face. “Armie, I—”

Softly, he said, “I know. We’ll talk later, okay?”

She turned to her brother. “You know what he did?”

“Logan told me.”

Armie scoffed. “It was nothing. Now let’s go. I’m freezing my ass off.”

He had her walking through the parking lot when she said, “What about your truck?”

“I’ll get one of the guys to pick it up for me, or Cannon can swing back by here and drop me off. It’ll be fine.”

“All right.” After a long look she handed him her keys—and then took him by surprise with a hug.

Stunned stupid, Armie inhaled, hesitated, but he couldn’t resist returning her embrace. Never, not for a million years, would he ever forget the fear of losing her. Unable to stop himself, he cupped a hand to the back of her head and pressed his jaw to hers.

She smelled of warm skin, flowery shampoo and pure sensual appeal, a scent guaranteed to keep him in turmoil for the rest of the night.

“Armie?” she whispered. “Thank you. For everything.”

With no words to suffice, he nodded, stepped back and watched as she got into the passenger side of the car.

Cannon narrowed his eyes on Armie. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”

“Yeah, I am.” He started away. “See you over there.” He planned to drop off her keys, and then stay out of the way, giving her and Cannon plenty of time to talk.

He needed some privacy—to do his own crumpling.

CHAPTER THREE

MERISSA LOVED HER BROTHER. She’d always seen him as Superman, larger than life, a rock whenever she’d needed one. He was only a couple of years older than her, but for as long as she could remember he’d seemed grown-up.

Right now, Superman was in her kitchen, insisting on getting her a drink when all she really wanted was the time alone to let go. She knew if she fell apart in front of him, Cannon would never leave her.

He didn’t need to be a savior, not right now.

“Here.” He returned with a cola over ice, urging her to the couch. He smoothed back her hair, his gaze drawn to the bruise. Yes, it hurt. But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the fear.

And here she’d promised herself, long ago, that she’d never again let herself be that type of victim.

But this fear—it was more about Armie standing in front of her, using himself as a shield. Risking his own life.

Willing to die.

“Take these.” Cannon handed her two aspirin.

She tried a teasing smile. “This feels so familiar.”

He stalled, then shook his head. “Don’t think about that.”

She couldn’t help herself. They’d lost their dad when she was only sixteen. As the owner of a neighborhood bar he’d resisted the extortion of local thugs, refusing to pay their demanded fees for “protection.” Late one night when he’d been closing, men had come in and beaten him to death.

Devastated but determined, their mom had nearly worked herself into her own grave trying to keep them afloat. Merissa could remember it all like yesterday. The goons wanted her mother to sell but she’d refused.

Until some of those goons had cornered Merissa on her way home from school.

“It’s all the same. You coddling me, being the strong one for both of us.”

“You were a kid then.”

“You’re only two years older than me,” she reminded him with a shoulder bump. “You were a kid then, too.”

“Maybe. I remember feeling so damned helpless.”

“Like you feel now?” She knew her brother, knew he wanted to make things right for her when that wasn’t his responsibility. “I’m not a kid anymore, Cannon. I can handle it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do,” she told him gently. “Because I don’t want my big brother stuck taking care of me again.”

He folded her hand into his own. “You know I enjoy it, right?”

Her laugh sounded pitiful. But she still remembered how her mother had given in because of her. Cannon had found those men, and even at eighteen he’d made them pay with his fists—because of her.

She’d influenced him into becoming a fighter.

And it was because of her that he’d formed the neighborhood watch. Everyone loved Cannon, but no one could love him more than she did.

“Superman,” she teased. “This time, I promise I can take care of myself.”

A slight knock on the door made her jump.

“It’s just Armie,” Cannon said with a squeeze to her shoulder. “I’ll let him in.”

Nodding, she again thought of the way Armie had stood in front of her, willing to block bullets if necessary.

Emotion welled up, choking her, killing her.

She quickly took the aspirin and tried to get herself together.

Armie peeked in cautiously, saw her on the couch and came in farther. “She okay?”

“Yes,” Merissa and Cannon said at the same time.

Armie gave a slight, tilted smile. “Hey, Stretch.” He came over to her, laid her keys on the coffee table, then winced at the darkening discoloration on her jaw.

“I bruise easily,” she explained. “By tomorrow it’s going to look worse, believe me. But it was just a slap. I doubt you guys would have even noticed.”

Armie crouched down in front of her. “Hey, you’re not a fighter, hon.”

She liked it when he called her something other than Stretch. Something affectionate. “No kidding.” She hadn’t fought at all; fear and the furious beating of her heart had kept her malleable and weak. It infuriated her. “I may be big, but I lack muscle.” And guts.

“Tall,” Armie corrected. “You’re tall, but far from big. More like...”

“What?”

He thought about it. “Delicate.”

A genuine smile took her by surprise. So Armie Jacobson saw her as delicate? Huh.

Knowing she needed to get this over with, Merissa took another drink, then set her glass aside and stood.

Armie slowly did the same, his cautious gaze never leaving her. Cannon stood near him, strangely quiet. They both watched her as if expecting her to lose it at any second.

And maybe she would—if she didn’t have an audience.

She moved a few feet away, needing the distance to get it said. “I think that man just wanted to toy with me. I mean, no matter what he said, there wasn’t time to...to...”

Armie and Cannon both went so still, they seemed frozen. She wasn’t helping by dragging it out.

Pasting on a smirk, she said, “He claimed he wanted to rape me, but we all know he wouldn’t have. Not in the middle of a robbery, right? Instead he tried to grope me a little.” The words strangled in her throat; she touched the front of her sweater with the missing button and made herself continue. “He slapped me when I pushed away from him. That’s the mark on my jaw. I stumbled and some stuff fell off my desk. He was coming after me again but then Armie... Armie saved me.” Hands locked together, she looked at the two people who were most important to her. She loved them both but in very, very different ways. “That’s it, guys. I promise. I got hit once, felt up a little, but nothing worse than that.”

“Rissy.”

That single whispered word from Armie almost made gelatin of her knees.

“Now you need to go,” she insisted urgently. “Both of you.” An invisible clamp tightened around her lungs. “Please.”

Looking tortured, Cannon said, “You’ll call me if you need anything?”

She nodded fast. “Yes.”

“And you’ll check in just so I know—”

“I’ll text you a couple of times tonight and tomorrow morning before work, too, I promise.” Please, please just go before I come undone.

Armie jammed a hand through his hair, then cursed low.

“Problem?” Cannon asked.

“No.”

Merissa looked at the dried blood in his hair, on his shirt. In her mind, over and over, she kept seeing how he’d shielded her. “Cannon should be fussing over you because you’re in far worse shape than I am. Go home and do whatever it is you do to make yourself feel better.”

Which probably meant he’d find a willing woman—or three—and lose himself in an orgy of pleasure. Damn it, she couldn’t let that bother her.

His nostrils flared, but Armie nodded. As if he’d just lost an internal battle, he flexed his hands. “If you want to talk...” He did more flexing, almost agonized. “Just let me know.”

She whispered, “You might be busy.”

He gave one shake of his head. “No.” He pulled her in for another hug that was so gentle it nearly demolished her resolve.

After the soft, warm press of his mouth to her forehead, he headed for the door. “I’ll wait outside.”

Merissa watched him walk away, his stride long, his step hurried.

It almost looked like he was running away.

Even after the door closed quietly behind him, she stared. Concern for Armie made her forget her own uneasiness.

“Rissy.”

She jumped, and her gaze shifted to her brother.

“You know I love you—”

“Yes.” Never in her entire life had she ever doubted that.

“I also love Armie. In a lot of ways, he’s like a brother to me.”

Despite everything, her lips shifted into a smile. “I know.”

Cannon let out a big breath, then took her hands. “He’s not a brother to you. Not even close. I would never betray either of you, but...”

When he trailed off, Merissa got alarmed. “What?” She squeezed his hands. “What’s the matter?”

“He’d deny it till hell freezes over, but Armie’s hurting. Not physically. I don’t mean that.”

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow, so she just waited.

“Maybe you should give him comfort, and it would give you comfort in return.”

Her jaw loosened. She didn’t know how to comfort Armie. He’d rejected her. Though they hadn’t discussed it, Cannon had to know that she had a thing for Armie. Their circle was small and everyone seemed to share everything that happened.

She shook her head, but Cannon smiled at her. “There’s something about Armie you should probably know.”

Oh wow. Her own situation faded as a million scenarios ran through her mind. Would she learn the reason Armie had avoided the SBC for so long? Would she find out why he refused to commit to a woman, why he avoided “nice” girls? Heart thrumming furiously, she whispered, “What?”

“Armie won’t be busy tonight.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know?”

“Because for weeks now, he’s been celibate.” She was stunned stupid as Cannon bent and kissed her forehead. “Something to think about, okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer; he just headed to the stairs to the door. On his way, he said, “I’ve locked the door, but reset the alarm, and don’t forget to check in.” And then he was gone.

And Merissa, still reeling, dropped to sit on the couch.

Armie Jacobson, hedonist extraordinaire—celibate. For weeks?

Yep, that certainly gave her a lot to think about.

* * *

AFTER A LONG, steamy shower, where he lingered for far too long, Armie pulled on boxers, fixed a drink and crashed on the couch. He turned on the TV but didn’t really focus on anything. His internal battle kept him too wired.

A few drinks later, more than a little tipsy, he still couldn’t stop thinking about Merissa home alone, maybe upset. She hadn’t wanted to call him. That had been as plain as the bruise on her jaw.

She might anyway.

She probably wouldn’t.

She had Cannon to comfort her.

But did she want Armie?

On and on it went, circling in his brain, making him nuts, and no amount of liquor would blunt the torment. For the tenth time he checked his cell. Had he reminded her to use the emergency cell? He couldn’t remember. Maybe he should text her and let her know...

No.

What he should do is leave her alone, stop lusting after her.

Stop needing her.

He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. His temples throbbed and his back ached. He couldn’t believe he’d let that putz catch him twice. Luckily no one wielded metal posts in cage fights.

Also, he didn’t have an innocent audience, guns or Merissa Colter in danger during cage fights.

He flexed a shoulder and looked toward the dark window. It was—what? Nine-thirty? Still early. Maybe he needed to get back in the saddle and ride. He wanted to snicker at his own wit, but even for a drunk guy that was a shitty analogy.

If only he had even the smallest interest—

The knock on his door had him bolting upright. He stared toward it as his heartbeat ratcheted up and desire kick-started a slow burn in his gut.

Standing, he set aside his drink and, still wearing only boxers, went to the door and opened it. Disappointment hurt worse than that metal post had. “Shit.”

“Well, hello to you, too.” She winced at the damage to his face. “What happened to you?”

Armie stared at the brunette he’d brushed off at the bar the other night. “Just a misunderstanding.” To discourage her from trying to come in, he stepped out and pulled the door partially closed behind him. “C’mon, Cass. You know better than to show up without an invite.”

“I called your cell but you didn’t answer.” Her hungry gaze went over him, caught on his crotch and stayed there. He recognized that particular smile curling her lush lips.

“My cell got broken,” he explained. “But seriously, hon, you didn’t get the message at Rowdy’s?”

“No one treats me like you do, Armie.”

“I’m an asshole and I know it. You should steer clear.”

She put a hand to his abs and started teasing her fingers downward. “I didn’t mean that weird rudeness at the bar. I meant in bed.”

He caught her wrist. “Not happening.”

She seemed to puff up with determination. “I’m getting married in a month.”

“Yeah?” He put her hand back at her side. “Congrats.”

“I love him.”

“Glad to hear it.”

This time her smile looked genuine. “He’s a great guy, Armie. Smart, sweet, but macho enough that even you’d like him.”

With no idea where she was going with that, Armie just cocked a brow.

“But in bed...” She sighed. “He’s not you.”

Armie laughed, turned it into a groan and rubbed his face. “Let me guess. You haven’t told him what you like?”

Now sounding desperate, she asked, “How can I? He’s so nice and he’s not like you and me.”

He stepped away from the door and, feeling indulgent, said, “Hon, I’m not like you. But between what you told me and how you reacted to stuff, I figured it out. Most guys like hot sex. It’s hotter when the chick is into it. So just tell him what you want. Trust me on this, he’ll be into it.”

“But what if he’s not?” Uncertainty shadowed her eyes. “What if he thinks I’m...weird or something?”

“You’re healthy, not weird. And if he doesn’t dig it, then do you really want to be married to him for the long haul?”

“I don’t know.”

“A lifetime of mediocre sex? I’d vote no.”

Her heavily made-up eyes studied him. “You don’t like the stuff we do?”

She looked vulnerable, and because of that, Armie kept his tone gentle and reassuring. “If you have to ask that, then you weren’t paying attention.”

“But you just said—”

“It’s your thing, honey, not mine. But I’m always happy to oblige.”

She leaned closer, and her voice went lower. “Now?”

Half smiling, he said, “Except for now.” Her pout was cute, but had no real effect on him. “If you’re getting married, you should be saving all those looks for him.”

“Like you’d ever be faithful.”

“If I got married, damn right I would. Now go.” He turned her, swatted her on the ass and said, “All things considered, you shouldn’t contact me again.”

Face flushed and eyes dreamy, she rubbed her tush. “I guess.”

“And you’ll talk to the fiancé?”

“Yes.” She bit her lip. “I’ll tell him. But if you’re wrong, I will come back here just to smack you.”

Armie grinned. “You can try.”

As soon as she headed down the steps, he went in and shut the door, strode to the couch and fell facedown onto the cushions.

Did Merissa have any fetishes?

God, he’d love to find out.

Turning his head to the side, he checked his cell phone one more time, and there it was. A text message that read, Rissy was here.

* * *

SITTING ON THE STEP, smothering in indecision, Merissa avoided looking at the brunette who went past her with a polite nod. The woman was smiling, happy and on her way out.

Merissa wasn’t a natural-born eavesdropper, but when she’d gotten to the top of the stairs and heard Armie speaking to the woman, she’d frozen.

Once she caught the conversation she couldn’t have moved even if she’d wanted to. Her feet had turned to lead blocks and her ears had been attuned to every single word they shared.

Sure enough, Armie had turned the woman down.

But the things they’d discussed... What did the woman like?

Merissa held her phone, waiting, hoping, and the text message dinged an alert.

Licking her lips, she read: You okay? Need to talk?

Yup. Yup, she did. She texted back, Busy?

No.

Wow, that was fast. She twisted to look up at the landing, saw the still-closed door, and turned back to her phone. He was so close. In person?

Seconds ticked by. She compressed her mouth, held her breath, tapped her foot rapidly on the step.

Finally the message appeared: You shouldn’t drive.

Merissa thumbed in the reply, hesitated, hesitated some more, then hit Send. Already have.

* * *

ARMIE STARED AT the message. Already have. What did that mean? Was she out tooling around?

Bad idea.

He typed in: Where are you? If he needed to, he’d go get her. Somehow. But hell, he was drunk and he knew it.

A cab. He’d take a cab—

Here.

His eyes went wide. Here? Stupidly, he looked around his apartment, then sent another text. Here?

Yes.

Here-where?

A very soft, single knock sounded on his door.

He went still, then everything accelerated. His heartbeat, his breathing.

The rush of blood through his system.

Coming to his feet, Armie crossed the room and jerked the door open and—ah, hell. He didn’t blink. “Hey, Stretch.”

One brow shot up. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” Definitely. And because of that, he felt sluggish and pretty damned unsure how to welcome her.

Or should he send her on her way? He knew he wouldn’t, wise as it might be, so maybe he should call Cannon—

She came in uninvited.

His back still to her, his thoughts struggling to catch up, Armie stood there.

“You’re in your underwear.”

Oh shit. He’d forgotten. Leaving the door open, he faced her. Damn, she was close. Like kissing close.

Like fucking close.

“They’re cute.”

“They’re absurd,” he corrected. The boxers sported two arrows—one that pointed up and said, The Man, and another that pointed to his junk and said, The Legend.

“I like them.” She leaned in—nearly stopping his heart—and gave the door a push to close it. Then she stayed right there, letting him breathe her in and feel the heat of her slender body and smell the scent of her skin.

She touched his head as if to check the butterfly bandage. “You showered.”

“Yeah.” And jerked off while he was in there. Not that his dick seemed to remember it now.

“This isn’t as tight as it should be.” She prodded gently at the special bandage, securing it again.

Taking her wrist, he pressed her palm to his jaw and closed his eyes.

“Armie?”

Get it together, he warned himself. “Come here.” Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he walked her to the couch and got her to sit. “Want a drink?”

She lifted his glass and sniffed, took a tiny sip and made a face. “Whatever you’re drinking would be fine.”

He tucked in his chin. “You don’t drink whiskey.” Except she’d just sipped it straight from his glass.

“Today is a good day to start, don’t you think?”

Yeah, probably. “One.” He glanced at her slim jeans, flat-heeled boots and the oversize hoodie, but didn’t allow himself as long a look as he’d have liked. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

On his way to the kitchen he felt her gaze on his ass. Literally felt it. He needed some jeans, only that’d look chicken shit. Or maybe modest.

He wasn’t either.

After getting another glass he poured her a shot of whiskey and went back to find her sitting cross-legged, a pillow hugged to her chest, her head down.

Softly, he said, “Hey.”

She looked up, those sparkling blue eyes sad but filled with so much pride and strength. “Will you sit with me?”

Armie clenched all over. She might as well have asked, “Will you rub your naked body over mine?” because his body reacted as if she had.

But damn it, he had control and somehow he’d find it. “Sure.” He lowered himself to the couch about a foot from her. “Here.”

She took the glass, sipped, made another face, then licked her lips.

Blindly he reached for his own glass and downed it.

Merissa studied him. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough.” Clearly. Because all he could think about was pulling her close, kissing her, laying her down on the couch.

Under him.

Her lashes lowered. “Are you still thinking about it, too?”

Sex? “Yeah.”

“I keep remembering...”

Not sex. Letting out a breath, Armie took her hand. “Maybe you should have spent the night with Cannon.” He could still get her there, either by calling a cab, or Cannon himself—

“No.” She snuggled in, her arms around his waist, her head on his shoulder. Her long hair teased his skin and the rest of her teased his libido. He wanted to put his hands all over her, but instead kept them on her shoulders.

Until she said, “I’m sorry, Armie, but I’d really rather stay here with you.”

He lurched back so fast he almost fell off the couch.

They stared at each other.

Usually, when he balked at her suggestions, Rissy’s feelings got hurt, which in turn made her pissy. Not this time.

This time she smiled gently and slid over to sit closer again. “Is that asking too much?”

He croaked, “No.” Nothing was too much for her, but how the hell would he handle it?

“Good.” Sighing, she hugged him. “Thank you.”

Um... “Welcome.”

“You really are drunk, aren’t you?”

He shook his head—which made the room spin. Lethargy and lust battled. “I’ll take the couch.”

Instead of arguing, she again snagged her drink, settled back against him and sipped. “What are we watching?”

He glanced at the TV. “I don’t know.”

She picked up the remote. “Do you mind?”

Against him, away from him, against him, away from him. Her bouncing back and forth made him more than a little nuts.

A hand in his hair, Armie shook his head. “Help yourself.” As she flipped through the channels, he wondered what the hell had happened. One minute he’d been sitting alone worrying about her, and now she’d put on an old movie and was tugging off her boots.

Drink in hand, she made herself comfortable—back against him again. After a second, she readjusted, taking his arm and looping it around her shoulders, then wiggling in closer. “Is this okay?”

He had a boner, his heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest, and every muscle on his body contracted, but whatever. “Sure.” He dropped a throw pillow over his lap.

“I saw before that you’ve got a terrible raised welt on your back. Does it hurt?”

Sexual need muddled his brain further. “No.” Though tomorrow he’d probably be feeling it.

After a half hour or so of blessed silence, where he’d finally gotten his gonads to calm down, Merissa turned up her face to look at him. He felt even drunker now, but some of that might be overwhelming need blunting his brainpower.

He tried to resist, but finally glanced at her—and got caught.

“How’s your head?” she asked.

All his concentration went to her mouth, and he had to fight the urge to give her a long, hot, wet kiss. Think, Armie. An idea occurred to him. “You tell Cannon you were coming here?” He already knew she hadn’t because if Cannon knew his baby sis was hanging out at his apartment he’d have already come to collect her. No guy in his right mind would want a female relative slumming with Armie, but Cannon was more protective than most. “He needs to know—”

“You’re right.” She got her phone from her purse, thumbed in a message, then put the phone on the coffee table. “All done.”

Armie stared at that phone, willing Cannon to reply, and when it finally dinged he released a tense breath of both relief and disappointment. She needed to leave, true. But damn, it was so nice having her close.

She leaned forward, looked at the screen and smiled.

Smiled?

Suspicious with a vague sense of dread, Armie asked, “He coming to get you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“What’dya mean, no?”

She held the phone for him to see the message.

He read: Good. I’m glad you’re not alone. Now I can stop worrying.

Confusion nearly crossed his eyes. “You told him you were with me?”

“Yes.”

Tunneling a hand into his hair again, Armie wondered what the hell Cannon was thinking.

When the room went quiet his heart stalled. Wide-eyed, he realized that Merissa had turned off the television. He tracked her every move as she replaced the throw pillow in the corner of the couch, then stood and carried her boots over by the door. The finality of the lock clicking into place jump-started his heart again.

He shifted around and watched her remove her socks and peel off the hoodie. Scalding heat washed over him. She tucked the socks into the boots and left the folded sweatshirt on top.

Now wearing only skinny jeans and a big SBC T-shirt, she came back to him and held out a hand. “Come on, Armie. I’m ready for bed.”

CHAPTER FOUR

MERISSA HAD NEVER felt so daring in her entire life. Leading Armie to bed—yup. That topped the list of daring feats. For some reason she felt powerful tonight, powerful enough to make some headway with the man of her dreams.

Maybe it was escaping the violence. Maybe it was how Armie had so gallantly protected her.

Maybe it was her brother’s encouragement—and tacit permission.

Whatever the reason, she was here, and she was willing to fight dirty to get what she wanted.

Armie had accepted her hand and now their fingers were very loosely laced together. Gaze intense and big body taut, he came along quietly, perhaps a little stunned. Sexual tension filled the air, thick enough to trip on.

She didn’t know her way around Armie’s place so she peeked into rooms as she went. He kept things mostly tidy, but was far from immaculate. His black-and-white bathroom had a towel on the floor, another over the shower rod. A laundry hamper overflowed and she saw his bloody flannel shirt on top.

It leveled her to remember the moment he’d stepped in front of her, willing to take a bullet. Emotion swelled until it burned her eyes but she fought it. She wasn’t a crier, never had been, and saw no point in it.

These were very different circumstances, so eventually she might break down—but not on Armie.

He’d been through enough today, more than her for sure, given he’d offered up his life to protect her.

She didn’t always understand him, what motivated him or why, but she loved him. For tonight, that seemed like enough.

Next to the bathroom was an open bedroom. Biting her lip, anticipation keen, she peeked in. Heavy black furniture dominated the room. The unmade bed was king-size with a directional light overhead. On the wall facing the bed was a gigantic mirror. Otherwise, it looked like the rest of his apartment—comfortably masculine and lived in.

Crowding close to her back, his voice dark and silky with menace, Armie asked, “Having second thoughts?”

She shook her head.

“Looking for my whips and restraints?”

She spun around to see him, which meant they stood very close, eye to eye, mouth to mouth. “Do you have them?”

His firm lips quirked up. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

Guessing that he only wanted to scare her off, she taunted him. “I don’t think you do.”

His eyes narrowed. “I have whatever I need to make a lady happy. And by happy, I mean screaming as she comes.”

Wow. He certainly sounded confident as he said that. “So...restraints if she asks for them?”

His expression hardened more. “I’m not having this discussion with you.”

“Pretty sure you are.” She tried to sound cavalier when really, inside, she was a little appalled. And maybe just the tiniest bit turned on, too. Not by the idea of being physically hurt, but any thoughts of Armie in sexual mode made her tingle. “Besides, I heard you talking to that woman. I’m dying to know what you did with her.”

Confusion overshadowed his antagonism. “What woman?”

“The one who came to visit you tonight.”

His jaw loosened, then he clenched it tight. “You eavesdropped?”

“Afraid so.” It’d be hard to question him without admitting that much. “But not on purpose. I came to see you, and she was already there. I didn’t want to intrude, so I waited.”

“Within hearing distance?”

“You were both in the hall. Not like I put my ear to the wall.”

Annoyance had him breathing harder and his right eye kept twitching. “Shit. I’m too far gone to figure this out.”

“Far gone?”

“Drunk.” He waved a hand at her. “And you being here isn’t helping.”

“Don’t ask me to go.” For good measure, she admitted, “When I’m alone, I can’t stop thinking about the robbery and that man and how he—”

“Shh. That’s over.” There, outside the bedroom, while stepping in against her, Armie caught each of her hands and pinned them to the wall at either side of her head. “You’re okay.”

The press of his body all along her length caused her breath to hitch. Especially when his solid erection nudged her belly. He wore only the silly boxers, and she could feel each and every long, firm muscle through her thin T-shirt and low-riding jeans.

His gaze drifted over her face, lingered on her mouth, then down her throat to the tops of her breasts. The side of his nose brushed hers and she could smell the whiskey on his breath. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Stretch.”

This time the nickname didn’t faze her. “Yes, I do.”

His lips grazed her bruised jaw, over to her earlobe. “Rissy...” he said, sounding pained.

“I’m asking for you, Armie. Just you.”

He hesitated, then thrust himself away from her. “Not that easy and you know it. No one comes to my bed wanting just me.”

“I would,” she whispered. “I do.”

He groaned. “Jesus, I’m drunk.”

If that was true, and she was pretty sure it was, then it wouldn’t be ethical of her to take advantage of him. He wanted to resist her and she wanted to wear him down.

But she didn’t want to dupe him into doing anything that he’d later regret.

She gave him a long look and went into the bedroom.

He laughed, rubbed his tired eyes and muttered, “I tried.”

“Yes, you did.” To get him to join her, she asked, “Would it help you to relax if I told you all I want is to sleep? Beside you, I mean, because I honestly don’t want to be alone.” And she was pretty sure he didn’t want to be alone, either.

Full of regret, he shook his head. “Sorry, babe, but I can’t. I’ll crash on the couch.”

Babe? That was a new one, but again, he’d had too much to drink and wasn’t firing on all cylinders. “It’s going to be crowded with both of us out there.”

When he stood there—neither leaving nor making a move to stay—Merissa decided to try to sway him. She reached for the snap on her jeans.

Armie didn’t look away from her eyes, but he breathed harder.

She dragged down the zipper, then slipped her hands into the jeans along her hips and slowly pushed down the tight material until she could step free.

His nostrils flared.

She dropped the jeans over a chair, pulled back the comforter on his bed and, full of uncertainty, slipped beneath the covers. To make room for Armie, she scooted over to the middle, looked at him and waited.

“If I wasn’t drunk,” he whispered, staring at her, “I might be able to do this.” He edged closer, caught the comforter and dragged it away from her body. His blistering gaze surveyed every inch of her, leaving her singed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” He’d been prepared to die for her. She trusted him completely.

A deep, harsh groan tore from his throat, and then he was in the bed, gathering her close, one hand in her hair, the other low on her back, almost to her derriere. Their legs tangled, his hairy and muscular, hers smooth and slim. She felt soft chest hair against her cheek, and the heavy bumping of his heartbeat.

“Armie?”

“Shh. Give me a minute.”

“Okay.” He smelled so good and felt so nice, she didn’t mind just being close with him. But as the time slipped by, she started to wonder if he’d fallen asleep. The bedside lamp was on and the comforter remained at the foot of the bed.

Levering back from his hold, she tipped up her face and found his eyes closed, his brows lightly pinched.

She scooted upward to kiss the injury to his head, and that’s when she saw the restraint hanging loosely from his headboard. She couldn’t quite look away from it, either, now that she’d spotted it.

“Armie?”

His dark lashes left shadows over his high cheekbones. “Hmm?”

Now she frowned, too. “Are you playing possum?”

“Concentrating.”

“On what?”

His hand slid farther down, over one cheek of her behind. He stroked with his thumb, fondled, then returned to the small of her back. Voice raspy, he said, “Not doing more of that.”

After that sizzling, sensual caress, it took her a second to regain her voice. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Can we talk about this tie hanging from your bedpost?”

His eyes opened, dark, compelling. “We could talk about you losing this shirt.”

That low, rough voice enticed as much as the suggestion. “Oh, Armie,” she whispered. “If you weren’t drunk, I would.”

“If I wasn’t drunk, I wouldn’t ask.”

Probably true. She sighed.

As if to convince her, he said, “I’m a better cocksman when inebriated.”

The laugh almost burst out. “Cocksman?”

He nudged his erection against her. “Like a swordsman, but with my dick.”

“Yes.” She had to work at keeping the smile at bay. “I understood the reference.”

The hand on her back began toying with her shirt. “Want me to show you?”

“I want you to explain the restraint.”

His eyes went heavy, sensual. “I use them to tie up frisky ladies so I can do as I please—and they love it.”

“Is that one of the things women ask of you? To be tied down?” Being at Armie’s mercy—she wouldn’t mind that. In fact, her toes curled just talking about it.

“Yeah.” He drew her down for a kiss. “They beg for it.”

Merissa avoided his mouth and instead kissed his forehead, then the bridge of his nose. “The woman who was here tonight, that’s what she likes?”

“She likes her bottom hot.” Armie turned his head and nuzzled into her neck. “But I shouldn’t be telling you that.”

On the contrary, she found it fascinating. “So you...spank her?”

“Yeah.” He lightly bit her shoulder, then stilled. “You into that?”

Merissa gave an emphatic, “No.”

Armie relaxed again. “Good. I would never want to hurt you. Not in any way.”

Touched by that confession, Merissa hugged his head to her breasts. The way he’d said that though, not in any way, had her thoughts churning.

He did a little more nuzzling, getting close to her nipples. She scooted back down so they were again face-to-face.

Armie just looked at her, his gaze probing and aroused, but also slightly off focus.

“I sort of expected your bedroom to be full of sex toys.”

“Mmm,” he murmured with a smile. “Women bring their own.”

That reply took her by surprise. “Really?”

Trailing his fingertips down her arm, he said, “I figure they can handle their own cleanup.”

Euewww. “TMI.”

He laughed, kissed the top of her head. “How can it be too much information when you’re grilling me?”

“I didn’t expect...”

“Sex is a messy business.” His voice went deeper. “Women get nice and wet when turned on, and men come.” He stroked her hair back. “You know that.”

She knew plain vanilla sex with men she hadn’t loved. No sex toys, no restraints and definitely no spanking. She didn’t need kink with Armie, but she wanted him happy. “What you said to that woman...”

“It’s really bad form for me to spank and tell.”

She scooted closer. “But I’m curious.”

“God,” he groaned, “don’t be.”

She loved the sprinkling of chest hair over his solid pecs, and that tantalizing trail that bisected his body. She loved that he respected women enough to care about sharing things private, and that he didn’t want to take advantage of her.

She loved his body and his attitude, his capability and his concern—she loved everything about him. “I’ll keep it general.”

He rocked her a little and asked, “Why don’t you sleep?”

“Do you enjoy spanking women?”

He groaned again.

“Armie,” she persisted.

He silently stared at her for a good long while, then surprised her again by turning to his stomach, stacking an arm under his cheek, and getting comfortable.

“Armie?”

Time ticked by. Merissa narrowed her eyes. “If you just fall asleep, I swear I’ll—”

He didn’t move. Didn’t open his eyes. She huffed. He’d actually gone to sleep. She watched his back rise and fall with deep, even breaths. Seeing the raised, discolored welt there softened her annoyance.

Then she noticed that when he’d turned over, he’d displaced his boxers. The waistband was tugged down a good three inches on one side, showing a strip of paler flesh over the top of his firm butt. With one fingertip she traced his spine, and still he didn’t stir.

Would he remember any of this tomorrow morning? Oh, it was evil of her, but she almost hoped he wouldn’t. It’d be fun to give him a hard time, to reveal to him, little by little, everything they’d discussed and how many times he’d kissed her.

As to that, she smiled, thinking wicked, very naughty thoughts as she watched him sleep. Her gaze went to his partially exposed backside.

Well, she did leave her signature note everywhere.

Grinning, she slipped from the bed but returned within a minute. Armie’s breathing had turned into a light snore, and he slept through the writing of her note.

With that done she crawled back into the bed, curled up close to him and fell asleep with a happy smile on her face.

* * *

ARMIE WOKE SLOWLY, his eyes blurry, his head more so. When he moved, several things hurt. Nothing new in that. He sparred hard, fought hard and often woke with sore muscles or minor injuries. He stretched awake.

And suddenly remembered.

Sitting up with a jolt, he looked to the other side of the bed and found it empty. He was out of the room in a heartbeat, searching until he found the pot of coffee in the kitchen and the note folded against it that read Rissy was here. Damn.

Turning to the kitchen sink, he splashed his face and tried to get his bearings. He remembered her coming over, remembered her leading him off to his bedroom.

Remembered her stripping off her jeans.

His gaze shot down, and relief rolled through him when he saw he still wore his boxers. That told him a lot because no way would he have worked around them if they’d gotten busy.

So clearly they hadn’t.

Dropping back against the sink, he racked his brain and finally remembered his lame plan. He’d figured on pretending to be asleep to both discourage her from asking sexual questions and encourage him to keep his hands to himself.

Unfortunately, he must have actually passed out on her.

Embarrassing, but also a lifesaver.

Had he held her all night? Turning, he strode back down the hall to his bedroom and stalled at the sight of his bed.

He’d been there with Merissa. Memories of touching her, kissing her, teasing and talking with her all drifted in and out of his thoughts.

He recalled those long, killer legs of hers tangling up with his. Her dark, thick hair trailing through his fingers. Her nipples pushing against the T-shirt. Her warmth and curiosity and openness with him.

No one comes to my bed wanting just me.

I would. I do.

When the cell phone rang, he jumped a foot, then rushed to answer. Glancing at the screen first, he saw it was Cannon, and braced himself. “’Lo.”

“How do you feel?”

Armie held the phone out, stared at it, then put it back to his ear. “I’m fine. Why?”

Cannon laughed. “You were in the middle of a bank robbery yesterday. You got clubbed on the head and across the back.”

And I slept with your sister. “It’s all good.” He faked a yawn. “Just woke up.”

“Yeah. Rissy texted me a half hour ago. After everything that had happened I wanted to talk to her, too. She sounded fine, like her old self. Said she was running home to shower and change before work, but that you were still snoring.”

Armie’s heart dropped to his feet. His sexcapades were vast and varied, but had never involved a discussion with anyone’s brother.

With humor in his tone, Cannon said, “We have a special guest today, so do you think you can hustle it up?”

In a rasp, he asked, “Special guest?”

“Jude Jamison.”

Holy hell. Jude owned mega stock in the SBC organization. He’d once been a champion fighter before he left and became an even more famous actor. Then he got accused of murder, survived a grueling trial where most believed he was guilty but couldn’t prove it, fell in love and finally cleared his name. “Why?”

“You already know why. The organization is focused on you.”

He grumbled, rubbed his tired eyes and knew there’d be no help for it. “This sucks.”

Cannon laughed. “Most fighters would be thrilled to get Jamison’s attention.”

Yeah, well, he wasn’t most fighters. Already heading to his dresser, he pulled out clean socks and sweatpants and sat on the side of the bed to dress. “I was going to grab a cup of coffee and then stop on my way to get my regular cell phone fixed.”

“Harper can get it fixed for you.”

Harper, who’d started as a volunteer until she’d married Gage, now worked full-time at the rec center and was there almost as often as Armie. Since the cell store was only half a block down, she probably wouldn’t mind. “Fine. I’ll come right in. Okay if I drain the pipes and clean my teeth first?”

“Sure. And take five minutes to put some fuel in the tank. I have a feeling Jamison will put you through a workout.” And with that, Cannon disconnected.

“Pain in the ass,” Armie muttered, and finished pulling on his socks. Knowing he’d shower at the rec center, he packed his gym bag, brushed his teeth and ignored the whiskers on his face and his unkempt hair. Since he could smell the coffee, he filled a travel mug to take with him then rinsed out the carafe. He’d have to explain to Rissy that he tried to avoid caffeine.

No, wait. He wouldn’t have her over again so he didn’t need to explain jack shit to her.

Of course the coffee was perfect. Everything about her was perfect.

He wished she had awakened him before leaving. Now, despite what Cannon had said, he’d be wondering all day whether or not she’d slept, and if she was nervous about returning to work.

Last night she’d wanted to be with him.

Today, how would she feel? He chowed down a protein-rich breakfast bar on the way to the rec center. For most of the ride he stewed and finally gave in. As soon as he parked his truck he called Merissa.

On the third ring she answered with a rushed, “Armie, hey!”

She sounded breathless, which sort of stole his breath, too. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Sorry, just out of the shower and hustling to get dressed so I get to the bank on time.”

That put an immediate visual in the forefront of his brain.

“Armie?”

He shook off the image of her wrapped in a small towel, her skin still damp, her face flushed. “How are you?”

“You and Cannon,” she teased. “I’m fine. What about you?”

“I’m good.” He paused, but couldn’t hold back. “You should have woken me up before you left.”

“I’m sorry. You looked so peaceful, and I knew I couldn’t stay anyway. It seemed a waste for us both to be up rushing.” Now she paused, then added, “Thank you for inviting me over again tonight. I appreciate that.”

Armie went blank. He’d invited her back over?

“I get off work at five, but it’ll probably be five-thirty before I get away. Then I’ll need to run home and change. I’m thinking six, maybe six-thirty. Does that work for you? I thought I’d cook you dinner.”

“Um...” He scrambled for an excuse, came up blank and rubbed the back of his neck. “Should work.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.” She disconnected.

Armie sat there, equal parts confused, concerned and anxious to see her again. “Idiot,” he muttered to himself and left the truck.

He saw the crowds right away. Figured a big shot like Jude Jamison would draw in the gawkers. Slinging the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder, he headed in.

Wasn’t easy, not with an influx of semiswooning ladies all jockeying for better positions in the crowd. “Excuse me,” he said about a dozen times until he finally reached Harper, Gage’s wife.

She stood on tiptoe, and she smiled.

Armie said, “Not you, too.”

She elbowed him. “It’s Jude Jamison.”

“Yeah, so?”

Harper turned to blink at him. “He’s a movie star!”

“Used to be.” But Jude had left that all behind.

“Once a movie star, always a movie star.” Harper sighed. “Just look at him. He’s gorgeous.”

“They’re both gorgeous,” another woman said.

Armie leaned around them to see the mat and realized Jude and Cannon were sparring together. He grinned. “Got your ovaries aching, huh?”

Harper elbowed him again. The other gal sighed, “Yes.”

Shaking his head, Armie sidled past them until he’d reached a more open area where the other fighters stood. Gage immediately asked him, “Harper still all moony-eyed?”

“’Fraid so.”

“I’ll get her mind on other things once we’re out of here.” He bobbed his eyebrows to ensure everyone understood his meaning.

Leese nodded at the mat. “Jude said he hadn’t done any actual sparring for a while, but it doesn’t show. He’s still slick with his moves.”

“And those direct shots,” Gage added, then slanted a look at Armie. “How he throws a punch, straight and fast, reminds me a little of you.”

Folding his arms, Armie watched for a minute and noticed that Cannon was holding back. A smart move, really. No reason for Jamison to get hurt or for Cannon to stroke his own ego when there was a lot more to be gained in a good relationship with someone of Jamison’s caliber.

Then to Armie’s surprise, the men finished up and Jamison said, “Thanks for going easy on me.” He grinned like he’d had the time of his life.

Armie understood the feeling. For a man who liked to use his strength and test his speed, there wasn’t anything else like MMA.

Cannon laughed. “You haven’t lost it, that’s for sure.”

“I stay in shape,” Jamison said. “But there’s in shape and then there’s fighting shape. In this business, speed is the first thing to go and it makes all the difference between a champion and a mediocre contender.” He clapped Cannon on the back. “Thanks for indulging me.”

“Anytime.”

They stopped in front of Armie, and Jamison, after freeing himself from the fingerless gloves, offered his hand. “Armie, thanks for coming in early.”

Cannon snorted. “He’s here all the time. Believe me, this is late.”

Armie felt his neck go hot. He was late because he’d been sleeping with Merissa. Best rest he’d had in forever, too. “Not a problem. So what’s on the agenda? Cannon said you wanted to see me?”

“I’ve got all day. Mind if I just watch your normal routine for a while? After that, we’ll all sit down and talk.”

Rolling a shoulder, Armie said, “Sure. Suit yourself.”

For the next three hours he tuned everyone out and went through his usual workout. Normally he could get into the zone and his brain would be blessedly clear. This time though, even as he went from throwing hard punches and solid kicks, to grappling with other fighters, and then to lifting weights, his thoughts stayed centered on Merissa. True, he’d been hammered last night, but not so far gone that he didn’t remember the stirring way she’d removed those formfitting jeans.

When she’d bent to push them down, her long hair had tumbled forward, almost touching the floor. Her dark hair had inspired plenty of fantasies for him. And those beautiful bright blue eyes—they were the same color as her brother’s, and both siblings had thick, dark lashes, but on Merissa the look was sexy as hell. So many times he’d imagined anchoring her with his hands fisted in that silky hair, staring into her mesmerizing blue eyes and riding her hard until he watched her quicken, then felt her come.

He could almost feel it now, those long, slim legs hugged around him, hear the catch in her breathing, feel the wet slickness...

“Ready to spar?”

Drawing a deep breath, he turned to Leese and saw he wore headgear and had his mouthpiece handy.

Leese grinned. “We played paper/scissors/rock and I lost.”

Not understanding, Armie shook his head.

“Not sure if it’s for Jude’s benefit or if you’re pissed about something, but you’re really pounding out the workout today.”

Armie frowned, glanced out at the room and saw a whole lot of people watching. What the hell? He wasn’t a Hollywood star like Jamison so they could all just go about their business.

To Leese, he said, “You can take whatever I throw at you.”

Leese grunted. “Going to be one of those days, huh?” He followed Armie to the corner where he had his gear. “Truthfully, though, I like it. Better opportunity for me to learn.”

Since the improved attitude was still a somewhat new turnaround for Leese, who had, at one point, been something of a dick, Armie always enjoyed working with him. He learned fast, put his heart into it and was proving to be a better fighter than any of them had expected. Armie wasn’t sure if Leese had what it took to be a champion, but he could put on one hell of a fight.

After wedging in his mouth guard and fastening on his headgear, Armie said, “Let’s go.”

For another hour they sparred. Armie alternately put it to Leese, and then instructed him. That was all well and good, but then Jude wanted to see Cannon with him.

“You too tired?” Jamison asked him.

Cannon spoke for him, saying, “Armie has more energy than any fighter I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t gas out, ever.”

Rolling his eyes over that effusive praise, Armie said, “If you were a chick I wouldn’t mind getting stroked, but from another dude it’s getting weird.”

Cannon laughed. “So you are tired?”

“I’m fine.”

Jamison studied him. “I’d say by those bloodshot eyes you had a night of it.”

New heat joined that from exertion. Again he said, “I’m fine.”

Jamison looked at Cannon, who smirked, and they both laughed.

“Yuck it up.” Armie flexed his shoulders. “We’ll see who wears down.”

Cannon joined him on the mat. “Challenging me?”

He sent his friend a mean grin. “You won’t be any good to Yvette tonight.”

“Boys, boys,” Jamison said, but Armie could tell he loved this shit. “I don’t want anyone mangled. Just spar so I can see the moves, okay?”

Cannon said, “Yeah, Yvette prefers me physically available.”

They all laughed over that.

Apparently Jude Jamison didn’t realize that he and Cannon were like brothers and one would never hurt the other. Of course, it was possible Cannon might drop down a weight class one day. If he did and the SBC set them up to actually compete against each other, they’d both give it their all. But that was for sport, without an ounce of animosity involved.

Armie and Cannon engaged, and pretty soon everyone stood alongside the mat watching. Most of the ladies had finally cleared out; they didn’t really hang at the rec center all day the way many of the athletes did.

His friends, Gage and Justice, Brand and Miles, Leese, Denver and Stack, all called out different submissions. Armie went through each one. Of course, Cannon was resisting but, for the sake of giving Jamison a demonstration, he didn’t really fight back. If he had, it wouldn’t have been so easy.

By the time they finished it was pushing four o’clock and sweat covered Armie’s entire body. He’d had a few quick breaks and wolfed down the lunch Harper put together for him, but otherwise, he’d been busy.

Stack did him a solid by helping him get his gloves and headgear off. “You have really sick speed.”

“I agree,” Jamison said as he joined them. “And you honestly don’t look tired.”

“Getting there,” Armie said. Sometimes his overabundance of energy was a problem. Like the times he tried to screw himself into exhaustion so he could sleep. Usually the woman wore out first, and then he had a hell of a time getting her up and out of his apartment.

“He and my wife are both endless sources of energy,” Stack said. “Although it pisses her off when I compare her to Armie, given his rep and all.”

“It’d piss me off, too,” Justice told him. “That is, if I was a sweet lady like Vanity.”

“You’re jealous,” Denver accused. And then to Jude, “Armie racks up conquests left and right.”

“Usually,” Miles added, “it’s the ladies chasing him.”

“So I’ve heard.” Jamison clapped Armie on the shoulder. “Get your shower and change, and then we can talk business.”

“Sure. Be back in ten.” After drying off his face, Armie slung the towel around his neck and grabbed up his gym bag. Chatting together, Leese and Justice followed him toward the showers. Cannon had paused to talk to some of the newer fighters hanging out.

The tepid water of the shower felt good and helped Armie to clear his thoughts a little. He scrubbed off the sweat, and then just soaked his head for a few minutes under the spray.

Merissa would be over again tonight and he honestly didn’t know if he’d be able to keep his hands off her. He wouldn’t drink. He’d be crystal clear. But that might not help when put up against the force of her appeal.

For so damned long he’d been hankering for her. When she hankered back... Yeah. He had knockout blows, but he wasn’t strong enough to resist that.

Knowing he shouldn’t keep Jamison waiting, he turned off the water and quickly dried, then stepped out of the shower.

“Holy shit.”

He turned, saw Leese looking stunned and asked, “What’s your problem?”

“Whoa!”

He turned again and saw Justice standing there slack-jawed.

Quickly getting irked, Armie scowled. “What?”

Cannon strode in, his cell phone to his ear, and suddenly Leese was at his back, way too damn close for two naked dudes. Armie was ready to shove him away when Justice stepped in front of him. Crowded between a lot of naked muscle, Armie said, “What the hell?”

In a low whisper, Justice told him, “Hold up a second.”

“Dude, we’re a hair from crossing swords.”

Justice practically shoved him back into the shower, and Leese, looking a little panicked, helped.

Stumbling, Armie grabbed the shower wall to brace himself. “If this is some new hazing deal, I’m going to kick both your asses!”

Oblivious to the altercation, Cannon turned near the lockers and headed to the back of the room.

Leese let out a breath. “It’s your ass, Armie.”

Yeah, that cleared up nothing. “I know the ladies like it, but you, Leese?”

Justice shoved him. “Look at it, idiot.”

“Look at my own butt?”

Grumbling, Leese grabbed up a hand mirror used for shaving and held it down by Armie’s backside. “Look.”

Baffled, Armie peered over his shoulder at the mirror, and his eyeballs almost fell out.

Written across the top of one glute in what must’ve been permanent marker were the words Rissy was here.

Damn it, she just might get that spanking after all.

CHAPTER FIVE

WITH HIS HEART thumping into overdrive, Armie snatched up a towel and wrapped it tight around his hips before glaring at both men. “Not a word. Not a single. Fucking. Word. To anyone.”

Mute, Justice used one finger to draw a cross over his hairy chest, right where his heart would be.

Wearing a look of disdain, Leese said, “I wouldn’t have helped you hide it if I planned to blab it.”

Leaning in, his voice faint, Justice asked, “Want me to see if Harper has anything that’ll remove marker?”

“No.” Good God. The last thing he wanted was Harper asking questions. He’d take care of removing it at home, alone. And seriously, he should give some thought to putting Rissy over his knee.

In a rush, their conversation about spanking came flooding back and he scrubbed a hand over his face. She wasn’t into it and he wasn’t into hurting her. If he got her pants off her again, he could think of a lot more interesting things to do with that bared tush.

But seriously, one good swat might be in order.

Annoyed at the path of his thoughts, Armie said, “Keep watch while I get dressed.”

Both fighters, arms crossed, did as asked. But damn it, Armie could feel their censure while he quickly pulled on boxers and then jeans and then, for good measure, a T-shirt. He tugged the hem of the shirt down to ensure nothing, not a speck of flesh showed.

When he finished, he turned to the guys. They stood there, lips curled, eyes narrowed, biceps bunched.

He glared at them both again. “It’s a joke, okay?”

Leese glared back. “If you say so.”

“Hell of a joke,” Justice added.

God, he hated explaining himself to anyone. And if Rissy wasn’t involved, he wouldn’t bother. But she was, and Armie couldn’t bear the thought of anyone thinking whatever they were thinking.

“You know she was robbed, right? At the bank, I mean.”

They both nodded.

“Well, I was there.”

“Heard all about it,” Justice said. His gaze went to Armie’s head. “That’s how you got your noggin knocked and that big bruise on your back.”

“Yeah. Well, after going through that, Rissy didn’t want to be home alone last night. Since Yvette just announced they’re expecting, I guess she felt like she’d be intruding to go to her brother’s. So she came to my place. I was already in my underwear when she got there, and drunk as shit, and I passed out on her. Must be when she wrote that.”

The tension eased out of their stances, and Justice even grinned. “Man, she got you good.”

“So until just now,” Leese asked, still sounding skeptical, “you didn’t know it was there?”

“Had no clue. You think I’d go advertising that?” Especially with Cannon nearby. Hell, Cannon and Rissy were the two most important people in his world. He’d never do anything to embarrass or malign either of them.

But when he got hold of Rissy...

“Lady in the hall,” Harper called out.

Armie strode over to the doorway. “Trying to get a peek?”

“Now, Armie. Would I announce myself if that’s what I wanted?” She held out his phone with a receipt. “They only had to replace the screen. Good as new.”

Armie repaid her. “You’re a dream, Harper. You know that, right?”

She stuffed the bills in her pocket, blew him a kiss and took off again.

When he walked back in, Cannon joined them. “Good show today, Armie. You impressed Jude.”

“Wasn’t my intent to impress anyone.” He hadn’t altered his workout except to add the extra sparring Jude had requested.

Grinning, Cannon said, “You did anyway.”

While he dressed, Justice and Leese said their farewells and took off, leaving Armie and Cannon alone in the showers.

“Rissy called,” Cannon said. “I asked her to check in every so often.”

“How’s she doing?”

“All right, I guess. But she’s too stubborn to tell me otherwise.” Cannon finger combed back his hair, then let a fist drop against the locker. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

“I’m there with you.” The fact that someone had manhandled Rissy, threatened her, kept an uneasy turbulence churning inside Armie. “Any word from the detectives?”

“Not yet, no.” Cannon turned his head to face Armie. “You were there. You think it’s possible it was more than a robbery?”

Over and over, it had played in Armie’s mind. “I honestly don’t know. I mean, one guy seemed to make a beeline for Rissy. I’d just noticed that he closed the door on her office when the other guy pulled the gun. But I don’t see how that setup helped them. I get that she’s a manager, but why separate her from the others?”

“I don’t know.” Cannon sat on the bench and pulled on his shoes. “I have a bad feeling about it.”

Cannon had a lot of contacts on the street, but mostly in the neighborhood surrounding the rec center. Whether or not those contacts would be of use for a bank robbery, Armie didn’t know. Thanks to their combined efforts, these days there was less crime and more enterprise. But on the outskirts of their small town, the criminal element still thrived. “You have feelers out?”

“Yeah. And I know Reese and Logan are on it. But I’m not going to rest easy until they catch the bastards.”

“And until that happens, Rissy’s going to keep checking in with you?”

Cannon shrugged. “She’s understanding about it.”

“She knows you love her.”

Cannon went quiet again, then said, “Thanks for keeping an eye on her last night. I appreciate it.”

Armie almost choked. “No problem.” It amazed him that Cannon wasn’t raising holy hell about his sis being alone with someone of his ilk. But then, he probably had no idea that Rissy had peeled off her pants, insisted on sleeping plastered against him, asked about sex games and left her MO emblazoned on his ass.

“It might cramp your style, but if she asks again—”

“I’ll look out for her,” Armie promised. He’d do whatever he thought was best to protect her—even if it meant protecting her from him. “You know that.”

“Yeah.” Cannon watched him. “I do.” Putting that discussion aside, Cannon switched gears. “I’m looking forward to hearing what Jude has to say.”

Armie eyed his best friend. “You know it’s going to be some idiotic promo shit they want me to do.” And he hated it. Not the camera—he’d never minded that. But the dog and pony show wasn’t his way.

“Maybe,” Cannon conceded. “Promo is good. Since we finally got you in the SBC we might as well ensure you make a big splash.” But since he knew that wasn’t what Armie wanted, Cannon clapped him on the shoulder. “Try having a little faith, okay? You have the organization behind you. That counts for a lot.”

“If you say so.”

Together they went back into the main gym and met up with Jude, who wanted to take them to a nearby diner to talk “away from everyone else.” Sounded ominous to Armie, but what the hell. He had time yet.

The diner surprised him. It was a local family-run place. Armie had been there before, but for a man of Jamison’s stature, a freaking movie star, as Harper had pointed out, it seemed pretty humble.

Recognizing the direction of Armie’s thoughts, Jude said, “I don’t want to be recognized, and I don’t want to keep you long. I assume this place is okay with the two of you?”

“I know the owners,” Cannon said. “They’re good people.”

“And they serve killer homemade soups,” Armie added. “Just didn’t seem like your speed.”

“I was a fighter before I hit Hollywood. And believe me, I prefer the fight circuit a hell of a lot more.”

Once they were seated in the back corner booth with drinks in front of them, cola for Jude, lemon water for Cannon and Armie, Jude got down to business. Hands folded on the table, leaning in, he addressed Armie. “You know I was once accused of murder.”

Whoa. Definitely not what he’d been expecting. With dread, Armie figured he knew now where this was going. “Everyone’s heard. You were also cleared.”

“Yes, but to much of the world it didn’t matter.” He looked at his hands. “Everyone thought I’d just gotten away with it. That I’d somehow bought my freedom.”

With conviction, Cannon said, “Everyone was wrong.”

That made Jude smile. “Yes, they were wrong. But you just reinforced my point.” He looked at Armie again. “When all of Hollywood and most of the world continued to accuse me, the SBC stood behind me. They were my family, my friends, there to support me. They knew me and believed in me.”

Armie sat back in his seat.

“They’d be there for you, too.”

Well, hell. Somehow, Jude Jamison had uncovered his deepest, darkest secrets. “You know, don’t you?”

Jamison nodded. “Simon and Havoc told me you were tough to nail down, and that although you’d signed on, you still seemed to be resisting. Throughout my career I’ve worked with a lot of hard cases, guys teetering on a life of crime, trying to clean up their lives.”

“That’s not Armie.”

Again, always, Cannon was quick to defend him. He turned to Cannon now. “I’m guessing he already knows part of it or we wouldn’t be here.”

Jude shrugged. “I got curious. After what Simon and Havoc told me, that you had all the right tools to be a champion but no real desire to make it happen...well, it didn’t sound plausible.”

Armie scoffed. “Believe me, I’ll do what I can to win the fight.” He didn’t know how to fight any other way. “If you’re worried about that—”

“I’m not. The thing is, I want you to want it, too.”

Enthusiasm? Was that what Jude needed to see?

“I watched a few of your fights,” Jude admitted. “I haven’t seen many with your raw talent. So I checked into your background. It was easy enough to find out why you’re hanging back.”

“I’m not.” Jesus. He’d signed on. What more did the SBC want?

“You’re not full-go,” Jude insisted. “Not yet. But we’ll get you there.”

Talking about it always made Armie edgy with suppressed rage. The urge to walk off clawed at him. But damn it, he’d walked away so many times, from so many opportunities.

“The SBC has resources.” Jude gave him a level look. “And I have resources.”

Oh, hell no. Armie didn’t want Jamison using his own funds to defend him.

Jamison held up a hand before Armie could protest. “False accusations are personal to me.”

“And they were false,” Cannon assured him.

Jamison half smiled. “I drew that conclusion all on my own after I found out all the details, including how you, Cannon, helped to back down the accusers.”

“Temporarily,” Cannon clarified. “They said they’d dredge it all back up if Armie didn’t disappear.”

“Let them try. They think money and clout gives them leeway to spread lies. I look forward to proving them wrong.”

“Damn.” Armie had thought that whole episode of his life was completely buried—and would stay that way as long as he kept out of the limelight. “You must have some great contacts to know so much about it.”

“The best money can buy,” Jamison stated. “So what do you say? Will you dive in and give it your all?”

He didn’t relish the idea of reliving that particular hell.

“Until you do,” Cannon told him, “it’ll always be there.”

“True words,” Jamison agreed. “A woman taught me that. Until she came into the picture I was content to ignore the sensationalizing media and the scum-sucking liars. I’ve never regretted the decision to finally fight back, because now she’s my wife.”

The claws of uncertainty retracted a bit. “She never believed the lies?”

“Not even for a second.”

Cannon clasped Armie’s forearm. “You’re better than them. I’ve always known it. Now you need to know it, too.”

“And then you can show the world.”

Armie had come to expect Cannon’s unwavering support. But Jude Jamison’s? That left him perplexed. “Some accusations have a way of hanging with a guy.”

“Like being called a murderer,” Jamison confirmed. “But it’s past time to shake it off.” He held out his hand. “Agreed?”

Armie hesitated, but damn it, he knew Cannon was right. He’d had enough of that particular shadow hanging over him. “All right, Jamison.” He took his hand. “Thank you.”

“Call me Jude. You’re going to be seeing a lot more of me so we might as well be friends.”

Just how involved did Jude plan to be? “You don’t say.”

“I’ve invested in the sport, you know that. Well, Armie, now I’m going to invest in you. And as anyone can tell you, I’m good with money.”

They spent another half an hour talking about his opponent, Carter Fletcher. According to Jude, Carter had the second-best camp and representation in the business. He was quickly making a name for himself and a lot of behind-the-scenes people were saying he’d soon get a shot at the championship belt.

Armie had never been all that interested in a belt. For the longest time his focus had been on working at the rec center and dominating in every smaller-venue fight in the tristate area. He’d had enough trouble adjusting to the idea of throwing himself into the SBC without leaping ahead to thoughts of a title shot.

Jude, however, had other plans. He expected Armie to win, and win big. Sketched within a short time frame, he’d drawn a path for Armie to go straight to the top.

For the very first time, Armie decided he wanted it. And there was something else he wanted. Something he’d craved for too damn long, something he’d denied himself because he hadn’t deserved it.

Merissa. Naked, in his bed.

Merissa—maybe forever.

If he could really have a second chance, if he could win the belt, maybe he could have Merissa, too.

Though the old fear still existed, for once he was ready to ignore it and go after what he wanted instead.

But it wouldn’t be fair to go there without her first knowing everything. And if they were alone at his apartment, he wasn’t sure they’d get around to talking.

As to that, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go into it all tonight. He needed some time to come to grips with the changes, to figure how to explain it to her. If she didn’t trust him, if she didn’t believe in him, it would level him as nothing else could.

One thing at a time, he decided, no matter how it might kill him to wait.

With that decision made he drove toward her house, his intent to put her off at least until tomorrow. Lunch, maybe. Yeah, they could have a conversation over lunch. In a crowded restaurant.

Where he wouldn’t be tempted to strip off her clothes.

Unfortunately, when he pulled up to her house, he saw her ex, Steve, standing on the stoop talking to her.

What the hell? She’d dumped that loser months ago, so why was he here now? Standing so close. Smiling at her. Schmoozing.

Whatever plans Armie had made disappeared like vapor. Steve was a creep, but Rissy might not know that because he’d never told her.

Another idiotic decision—one he could set straight right away.

* * *

AFTER A GRUELING, nerve-racking day at work, Merissa wanted nothing more than to escape her own jitters. It shamed her that every time the front door of the bank had opened, tension had dug into her spine, leaving her heart racing and her palms clammy.

Her tellers, who were all nervous, needed her to lead by example. She didn’t want to be a coward so she’d done her best to hide the reactions, especially when talking to her brother. But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking that the robbers might return. Everything they’d done had felt so personal, as if they’d come specifically for her, not just to rob the bank.

Detectives Riske and Bareden had assured her that the police would make frequent drive-bys to check on things. The FBI even had a plainclothes officer keeping watch, occasionally inside the bank.

None of that had mattered to the fear that repeatedly surged to the surface.

By the time she’d left the bank she felt so tightly coiled she wanted to scream. Even at her house, with the security system on, she hadn’t been able to regain her calm. Part of that, she knew, was living alone. Her bilevel home was fixed up so that she could live on the upper floor and, until recently, Cherry had lived on the lower level. But once Cherry and Denver married, the space became empty and she hadn’t so far rented it out again.

The long, warm shower that should have been relaxing instead left her straining her ears listening for any unfamiliar sounds.

By the time she’d dried her hair and dressed casually in jeans and a fitted T-shirt, stuffed a few necessities into a tote bag, and gotten out the door, all she could think about was seeing Armie again.

Unfortunately, she’d found Steve, a very unwelcome ex, coming up the walkway. And for the past five minutes she’d been attempting in vain to get rid of him.

“I’m concerned for you, Merissa.” He reached out to touch the bruise on her face, but she leaned away. Lips pressed together, he dropped his hand. “After the robbery yesterday you have to be shaken.”

“No, I’m fine.” And I’m a good liar—but it wasn’t Steve she wanted to comfort her. They hadn’t been together for months so why he thought he could waltz back in now, faking concern, she didn’t know. “I’m running late so if you don’t mind—”

“Merissa,” he said in a tone as thick as honey. “I know you better than that.” His gaze went to her house. “And didn’t you lose your roommate? You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m not.” Another big lie, but no way did she want Steve to think she’d be the only one in the house. “And really, Steve, it’s not your concern. We’re over.”

“But still friends.”

“Since when?”

He sighed. “I don’t blame you for being bitter. The way I treated you—”

“I’m not bitter,” she said from between her teeth. “I’m not anything—except in a hurry.”

Just then, she recognized Armie’s truck as he pulled up to the curb and her frustration mounted. She didn’t need a conflict between the two men and worse, if Armie was here to cancel on her, she’d... Well, she didn’t know what she’d do. Maybe try insisting.

But he wouldn’t be drunk now and that meant her odds of swaying him to her way of thinking were greatly diminished.

When the sound of his slammed truck door echoed over the street, she urgently wanted Steve to take off.

“I’m sorry,” she said, racking up her third lie, because she wasn’t sorry at all, “but I’m not interested.”

“Not even in a drink?” Steve cajoled. “Just for old times’ sake? Friend to friend?”

“Hey,” Armie said, looking so awesome in a snug-fitting long-sleeved T-shirt that, for once, didn’t have any provoking writing on it. Had he made that concession for her?

She’d have to tell him that she liked the raunchy sayings on his T-shirts.

But maybe later. Right now, his gaze was only on her. He didn’t even acknowledge Steve.

“What are you doing here, Armie?” She glanced at Steve and found him studying Armie, his expression hostile. “I was just heading to your place.”

Armie seemed to fight some internal battle before saying, “I wanted to follow you.”

“Why?” She didn’t want Steve to know how upset she’d been. “I’m okay.”

Pulling her in, Armie brushed a warm kiss over her mouth, rendering her mute. “’Course you are. But it’ll make me feel better. Okay?”

Spellbound by that spontaneous, casual kiss, she nodded.

And Steve suddenly exploded. “You.”

Armie smirked. “Didn’t recognize me at first? Yeah, I always figured you to be obtuse. Now beat it.”

Wait a minute. Merissa looked from one man to the other. What was she missing? “You two know each other?”

“In a way,” Armie told her.

“He,” Steve said, “attacked me!”

Merissa looked at Armie, and sighed. “Why?”

He laughed. “That’s it, Stretch? You don’t even ask if I did it?”

“No need. I can see it on your face.”

Armie tweaked her chin. “Well, you’re wrong. What I did was defend myself after his boyfriends jumped me.” Armie shrugged. “And yeah, after I finished with them I kicked his ass a little, too.”

“A little?” Steve demanded. He turned to Merissa. “You saw me! You know how bad it was.”

“When you were bedridden? Yes, I remember.” She huffed. “If you had your boyfriends—” Shoot, now she sounded like Armie. “Your friends jump him, then you all got what you deserved.”

“Why thank you, honey.”

“He was following me,” Steve insisted.

“Not exactly how it happened,” Armie told her, sounding bored. “And if you want all the deets I’ll give them to you. But if I stay next to this bozo one second more, I’m going to have to deck him. And then you’ll have blood all over your porch. You don’t want that, do you, honey?”

“No.” Merissa hiked her purse strap over her shoulder, lifted the tote bag and took Armie’s hand. “Later, Steve.”

“It might not be so easy this time, you bastard!” Steve followed them off the porch. “I’ve been working out!”

“Yeah?” Armie glanced back, his expression hopeful.

“No,” Merissa said firmly. “Keep walking.”

He didn’t.

Turning to look over her ex, Armie said, “You got some pretty muscles now, Steve-o? You wanna see how we match up?”

“Armie Jacobson, don’t you dare!” Merissa put both hands flat to his chest and pushed.

She might as well have been pushing on a brick wall.

A little panicked, she whirled around on Steve. “You’ve always been an idiot, but for God’s sake, use what little sense you have and leave!”

“Hey.” Armie’s hands settled on her shoulders. “Calm down, honey. It’s okay.”

She pivoted back to blast Armie. “I do not want you demolishing him where my neighbors might hear.”

He cocked a brow. “So that’s your only concern?”

“I live in a nice, quiet neighborhood of elderly people,” she growled. Did he actually think she still cared for Steve? “Take him apart on your own time, but not in my front yard!”

“Okay, okay. Take it easy.”

Knowing she’d overreacted and now feeling like a fool, Merissa tried to step around him.

Armie pulled her against his chest. Near her ear, he said, “I’m sorry. I would never deliberately do anything to embarrass you.”

That he would be so considerate, that he could pull his anger together so easily, amazed her. She dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “You won’t kill him?”

His rough laugh teased along her nape. “Naw. I’ll leave him intact—for now.” He set her away from him, studied her face and asked, “Okay now?”

They both ignored Steve.

“Yes, thank you.”

Steve wasn’t ready to let it go. “I looked for you. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t. But I wish I had.”

“Now I know who you are!”

Dark eyes glittering, Armie smiled at him. “I’ve always known who you are. Keep that in mind.”

Okay, wow. That made Merissa shiver. And when she glanced at Steve, he looked far from unaffected.

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