Grappling for Position (Against the Cage Book 4) Read online

  “Regan, don’t start. You sound just like Kyle.”

  He knew that voice. She was getting pissed. Well, he was already there, not at her, but at himself. It wasn’t her fault that “The Reaper” had been there for her when he wasn’t—that he’d had his hands on her. But what Regan wanted to know was what the guy was doing so close to his girl in the first place.

  “Kyle isn’t always wrong, Willow. He’s overprotective sometimes, but your safety is more important than your happiness.”

  “Okay, you just need to stop talking right now. I get that you’re upset that you weren’t the one to save me. And it pisses you off that Grim was. But you can’t stick me in a bubble, Regan, and neither can Kyle. Sometimes life just happens. Besides, I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt. You’re just going to have to stuff your ego and get over it.”

  He knew she was right, but the adrenaline flooding through his veins over how close she came to getting injured tonight was fucking with his brain-to-mouth filter. Now throw in a healthy dose of testosterone, and he had the makings of becoming a class-A prick in right short order.

  “‘The Reaper’ was hitting on you, wasn’t he? That’s why he was there to pull you out of the way.”

  She exhaled and rolled her eyes. That told him all he needed to know. “So, what if he was, Regan? You think he’s the first guy to hit on me?”

  Regan didn’t want to think about how many guys hit on her. Willow was his.

  “I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation,” she snapped. “It’s not like I’m interested in Grim. I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve years old. That’s not gonna change over a pretty face and a charming smile. You’re it for me, Regan. Besides . . .” She gave him a teasing smile and bumped his arm with her elbow. “You’re way hotter than he is, anyway.”

  He chuffed and shook his head. This woman was impossible to argue with. She knew him too well, knew how to defuse him like no one else. Regan wasn’t used to this feeling of insecurity. It caused a knot in his gut, and he fucking hated it. This wasn’t like him—not at all. Then again, maybe it was. He wouldn’t know. Before Willow, he’d never cared about anyone enough to worry about losing her—not since his mother, that is.

  The last person he’d loved had walked away from him. He’d thought he was over that. Huh. . . guess some wounds just ran too deep to ever heal. The last thing Regan wanted to do was fight with her or let his issues push her away. How un-fucking-attractive was this? He refused to be that guy—the guy that worried about losing his girl or lost his shit every time some swinging dick got within two feet of her.

  In the years after his mother had left him, he’d often lie awake at night and wonder if there was anything he could have done to make her stay. Could he have been a better son? Maybe then she would have taken him with her instead of leaving him to face his hell alone. They were answers he’d never get. And most days he found his peace with that. So why in the fuck was he digressing now?

  And then they turned the corner, pulling into the parking lot of University Hospital, and the answer came to him like a lead weight settling in his gut. His father was here. Just days ago, he was walking down the hall of the emergency department while his father screamed and berated him. And now he was coming back, awaiting the arrival of the man who’d been more of a dad to him than his own piece-of-shit father had ever been.

  Regan pulled into the emergency department entrance and parked the car. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the rest, taking a moment to sort and compartmentalize his raging emotions. He felt Willow’s hand rest over his, and when he opened his eyes, she was looking at him with a hell of a lot more understanding than he deserved.

  Did she know he was thinking of his last visit here? Of his father? He must still be alive or the hospital would have called him, wouldn’t they?

  “You all right?” she asked quietly.

  He met and held her knowing gaze. He didn’t even have to tell her. God, he loved this woman.

  Regan nodded.

  “If you’d rather wait out here for Marcus to arrive, that’s okay.”

  Did he mention he loved this woman?

  The ambulance arrived twenty minutes later and so did half of Marcus’s CFA team. If Willow hadn’t been so worried about him, she would have laughed at the expression on that poor triage nurse’s face when she, Regan, Kyle, Cole, Katie, and Grim came bursting through those doors. She was surprised to see Grim with the gang, but she was far too distracted to give it more than a passing thought.

  She was concerned about Regan, as well. Although on the outside he appeared to be holding it together, she knew on the inside he wasn’t doing well. In addition to his own fears for Marcus, he must have been thinking about his dad. Being here so soon after what happened couldn’t be easy. She wished there was something more she could do for him, some way she could make this better.

  As soon as they were allowed to enter, they flooded back to Marcus’s room. As hard as it was not to rush ahead with the crowd, she hung back with Regan. They entered through the double doors, heading down the hall, and wouldn’t you know it, the nurse from the other night was stepping out of a patient’s room just as they were walking by.

  “Mr. Matthews,” she greeted him, stopping outside the door. “Are you here to see your father? He’s been transferred to the ICU on the fourth floor.”

  “No,” Regan told her. “A friend of ours is here. We’re just checking to make sure he’s all right.”

  “Oh . . . I see. Well, I hope everything works out for your friend. It was nice seeing you again. If you change your mind about visiting your dad, he’s in room 4200.”

  “Thanks,” Regan mumbled, placing his hand at the small of Willow’s back and moving her along to join the others.

  They caught up to the group just as they were entering Marcus’s room and Katie was rushing to her uncle’s side. He was awake and sitting up in bed, looking downright pissed off. Willow was relieved to see him conscious and his typical feisty self. It had to be a good sign, right? She still didn’t know what had happened to him and couldn’t understand why Cole had attacked Nikko like that. It worried her that Nikko wasn’t here. She hoped he was all right, but considering the mood in the room, she might have been the only one.

  “Uncle Marcus, are you all right?” Katie asked, taking his hand in both of hers. Cole was standing behind her, looking just as worried.

  Willow came around the other side of his bed and took his other hand.

  “Girls, I’m fine. Don’t worry. It’s going to take more than a knock on the head to keep me down. I tried to tell the medic that, but someone insisted they bring me in, anyway.” He shot an accusing glare at Cole.

  “Hey, I’m not going to apologize, you stubborn old goat. You say you’re fine, but I want to hear it from someone who knows what the fuck they’re talking about.”

  Katie elbowed Cole in the ribs. “Don’t use that kind of language in here. This is a hospital, for crying out loud.”

  That brought a chuckle from Marcus and a collective sigh of relief from everyone else in the room at seeing him smile. “That’s it, Katie Bug. Keep him in line. God knows I’ve tried.”

  “What happened?” Willow asked, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Fucking Del Toro is what happened,” Cole answered with a growl. Katie let his effenheimer pass without reprimand.

  What the hell did that mean? What had Nikko done?

  “I told you he was gonna snap,” Regan told Kyle with a sad shake of his head.

  “But why?” she cut in. “Why would Nikko hurt Marcus? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Maybe he wanted to throw the fight,” Grim volunteered.

  And who the hell asked him, anyway? Willow shot Grim a disapproving scowl, and he gave her an unrepentant shrug as if to say hey, don’t shoot the messenger, babe.

  “He had a lot riding on that fight tomorrow. It’s a lot of pressure. Some fighters just can’t take it and t
hey crack,” Grim continued, seeding his doubts into the others’ minds.

  When no one spoke up to defend Nikko, Willow turned on August Grim to give him a piece of her mind. “You don’t know Nikko. He’s a great fighter. He would never throw a match.”

  “I suppose next you’re going to tell me he would never hurt you or his coach. You almost became a pancake, princess, and look where we are right now.”

  “Why are you here, anyway?” she snapped.

  “Easy, Will,” Kyle said, snagging her wrist when she started toward “The Reaper.” Why isn’t anyone sticking up for Nikko? She might not know what had happened back at that party, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Kyle pulled her to his side and kept his grip on her arm. Bending his head close so he could speak without everyone else hearing, he said, “Grim brought me over because I needed a ride and he was worried about Coach. Regan had already left with you. I know you’re worried about Coach and Nikko, but Grim isn’t the bad guy here, so just chill, okay?”

  “Cole, as long as we’re here, I think you should get your shoulder checked out,” Katie told him. “I’m worried you re-injured it.”

  “What did you do, Cole?” Marcus asked, concern drawing his brows.

  Marcus obviously wasn’t privy to what had gone down after he’d blacked out, and the tension spiked in the room when no one rushed to answer him. “Son, I’m talking to you. And I expect an answer.”

  “After he hit you, I took Del Toro down.” Cole’s eyes blazed with defiance as they met and held Marcus’s, daring him to give him hell for protecting the man he loved like a father.

  But the ass-chewing didn’t come. Exhaling a deep sigh, Marcus asked, “Are you all right? Maybe you should get that shoulder checked out.”

  “I’m fine. Just like you, right? I’m going to head down to the police station. I’m meeting Dean there. Katie will stay here with you and bring you back to our place for the night.”

  Katie shot Cole an anxious look. “Cole, do you think going down there is a good idea? You’re angry—”

  “You’re fucking right I’m angry. That asshole just laid hands on the man I owe my life to. He can fuck his career all he wants, but he will not take the reputation of the CFA down with him.”

  “I don’t know Nikko well,” Katie admitted, “but from what I’ve seen, he isn’t a bad person. We don’t know what happened tonight. Please don’t do or say anything you’ll regret.”

  Finally, someone else who was willing to step up and give Nikko the benefit of the doubt. Willow was liking Katie more and more by the minute. She wouldn’t be cowed by Cole, no matter how much he huffed and puffed. She shouldered up to the guy and told him how it was. No doubt she was one of the few people that could get away with it.

  “I’ll see you at home.” Cole dropped a kiss on top of her head. “See you at home, old man,” he said, patting Marcus’s foot at he walked past the end of the bed.

  “Yeah. . . yeah,” Marcus grumbled. “The rest of you can go, too. As you can see, I ain’t dying anytime soon.”

  Without meaning to, Willow’s gaze shot to Regan’s. Something painful flashed in his eyes, but it was gone so fast she could almost convince herself she’d imagined it.

  “You want me to give you a ride back to the party?” Grim asked Kyle.

  “I suppose. Someone’s got to try to do some damage control. What about you, Will?”

  “If it’s all right, could Regan just take me home? I’m not feeling in the partying mood anymore.”

  Kyle notched his chin toward Regan. “You mind dropping her off on your way back?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see ya back at the party then?”

  “Sure.”

  Kyle and Grim said their good-byes and left. Regan excused himself, telling Willow he’d be right back. She settled in next to Marcus, with Katie on the other side, and they visited for quite a while. They passed the time, sharing stories, mostly about Cole, and she enjoyed hearing about another side of the hard-ass fighter. The more they talked, it was easy to see why Cole had fallen in love with her.

  When a half-hour came and went and Regan hadn’t returned yet, Willow politely excused herself and set out to find him. She had a pretty good guess where he’d gone.

  Chapter 23

  The elevators chimed, and Willow stepped into the hall of the fourth-floor ICU. Following the direction of the sign pointing to the 4200 wing, she turned left and only took a few steps before she found Regan standing in front of a window, stone-still.

  Reluctant to disturb him, she watched him a moment, wondering if she should go to him or give him his space. What would he do if it was her standing there instead of him? That answer came easily enough, and she quietly approached, gently laying her hand against his shoulder, letting him know she was there.

  “You all right?” she whispered softly. “I got worried when you didn’t come back.”

  In answer, Regan pulled her in front of him, her back pressed snugly to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on the top of her head. He exhaled a troubled sigh that said more than words probably could.

  She saw the same view he’d been staring at—his father lying in bed, hooked up to multiple wires and machines. He was asleep. The covers over his chest rose and fell with his slow, even breaths. Her gaze flickered to the monitor at his bedside. His heart rate was regular except for an occasional blip. Being through a portion of her nursing program, she knew enough to recognize he was gravely ill, but not enough to guess how much time he had left. His liver was failing—that much was obvious. His coloring was worse than the last time she’d seen him, and his blood pressure was reading low. He was on oxygen and barely maintaining his saturation above ninety percent. Several IV bags hung from a pole attached to his bed, but she couldn’t read the labels from where she stood to know what they were giving him.

  “It’s funny. I’ve been standing here staring at him and I still feel. . . nothing.” His voice was emotionless—monotone and detached.

  “You feel nothing because you’re refusing to allow yourself to let the emotions in. Believe me. I’m an expert on grief, Regan, and you’re not immune to it. You can only hold it off for so long. Eventually, you’re going to have to face it.”

  “I’ve grieved for this man my entire life, Willow. I’ve got nothing left. I’ve already grieved for the father I never had, grieved for the pain and suffering that eventually drove my mother away, and grieved that I was never allowed to be a normal child. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t live in constant fear. It’s the sole reason I became a fighter. I had to find a way to combat that fear and take my life back, or I knew I wasn’t going to survive.

  “I look at this man now lying in a hospital bed, frail and weak, and I think, how is it possible that I was ever afraid of him? It’s funny how, when you’re young and small, your perceptions of adults, especially your parents, can be so distorted. In my eyes, this man was larger than life. He was my fucking Goliath, and look at him now—all shriveled and dying. And you want to know the most pathetic thing of all? There’s a part inside of me that still feels small. A kid that can’t help but wonder what he did to deserve this.”

  Tears welled in Willow’s eyes, her heart breaking at his confession. She was glad to be turned away from him. He wouldn’t want her crying for him. “Regan, you didn’t deserve this. No child deserves to be abused by a parent or anyone else—ever. Maybe you need to talk to him, to tell him how you feel.”

  “He hasn’t changed, Willow. You heard him down in that ER.”

  “You’re right. He probably hasn’t, but that’s not what this is about. It’s not about reconciliation with a dying man. It’s about giving you closure—giving you peace. Maybe just take some time and think about it, huh?”

  She felt him nod, his chin brushing over the top of her head, and he squeezed her tighter. “How did you get so smart?” he asked, kissing her
hair.

  “A lot of counseling.” She’d said it as a joke when Kyle had asked her the same thing, but sadly, it wasn’t.

  Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he led Willow away from the window. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

  Regan pulled up to the parking lot Monday morning to find his friend leaning against his “General Lee”—minus the rebel flag painted across the roof and the 01 on the doors—arms folded over his chest, just waiting, waiting for him no doubt. Shit. . . He wasn’t in the mood or frame of mind to be talking to anyone right now. That was why he’d been dodging Kyle’s calls, but he’d never been the kind of friend to take a hint or give Regan his space. S’pose that’s why they were so close. Anyone else would have given up on him a long time ago. He hadn’t taken Willow’s calls, either, and she was probably going to be pissed about that. He knew she was worried, but she had finals coming up in the next month or so before summer break started, and she needed to be focusing on that right now, not fretting over his mental health.

  He pulled up beside Kyle and parked. It was a sweet ride his friend had rebuilt. Regan climbed out of his car and was greeted with, “That was a dick move, not coming back to the party and leaving me and Grim to fend off the paparazzi. You avoiding my calls because you’re feeling guilty for being a douche, or is there something else going on?”

  Typical Kyle—short, sweet, and to the point. You never had to wonder where you stood with him. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. My dad’s in the ICU at University.”

  That got Kyle’s attention, and he dropped the attitude. “Shit . . . sorry to hear that, man. Willow didn’t say anything to me.” He stepped forward and clapped his hand on Regan’s shoulder as they walked up to the administrative entrance of the gym. They were here early. The front doors wouldn’t be open for another hour. “You saw him then? Your old man?”