In for the Win (Against the Cage Book 5) Page 5

  If he thinks he’s going to get away that easily…

  Pen raced for the front door and busted out into the parking lot, just as the weasel was opening the car door to make his escape. “Nikko!” Pen slowed her roll to a brisk walk because her heels were a killer, and that was before she drank five margaritas. He froze.

  Yeah, you’re busted, asshole.

  As she marched up to him, he slowly got back out of the car and stood to his full height, arms defiantly crossed over his chest as he waited for her to approach. She might have been intimidated by the heavyweight fighter—who was making no effort to disguise his displeasure at finding her here—if she wasn’t so pissed off at him for messing around with some other woman behind Vi’s back, or if she wasn’t drunk.

  She’d almost reached him, ready to give him a piece of her mind, when she stepped wrong and rolled her ankle. Pain exploded in the joint as it buckled. Her momentum sent her pitching forward, face-first toward Nikko’s crotch. A moment before impact, he caught her under the arms, yanking her none-too-gently back to her feet.

  “Whoa.”

  “Don’t touch me!” she snapped, swatting at his arms to let her go.

  And he did—before she could regain her balance on her four-inch heels. Nikko stood there with a brow raised in wry amusement, watching her flail as she tried to steady herself.

  “How could you do it, Nikko?” she blasted him. “I can’t believe you’re cheating on Vi. She deserves so much better than you!”

  He flinched at the venom of her words, no longer appearing amused by her vertical challenges. In fact, he looked rather angry. Oh, how self-righteous of him. Men. This right here was exactly why she didn’t date. You couldn’t trust them. Ever.

  “You’re right,” he said with dead seriousness. “She does deserve better than me. But I’m not cheating on Violet.”

  What the hell. Did he think she was stupid? “I know what I saw—”

  “You’re drunk. You don’t know shit. What the hell are you doing getting this shitfaced when you’re out alone, anyway? Do you have any idea how easily some guy could come along and take advantage of you?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to be alone. Vi bailed. To be with you, you dick!”

  Nikko looked more and more livid by the minute. Good thing she didn’t scare easily. When you’ve lived through hell, you learned to quit fearing the devil.

  “Get in the car, Pen.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not going anywhere with you!”

  His scowl darkened another degree. “Get in the goddamn car, Penelope. Now! I’m taking you home. I’m not in the mood for this shit.”

  Too damn bad. She wasn’t going anywhere with this lying, cheating prick. Crossing her arms over her chest, she prayed her equilibrium didn’t fail her and notched her chin. “No.”

  “Would you rather I called Kyle to come get you? Cuz I’m not leaving you here to become a statistic. You got two seconds to get your ass in this car or I’m calling him.”

  “Don’t call Kyle!” Shit. That was the last thing she needed. As much as she didn’t want to go anywhere with Nikko, she wanted to see Kyle even less.

  “Then move your ass!” Nikko was out of patience. Grabbing her arm, he half-hauled/half-dragged her around the back of the car. Opening the passenger door, he placed his hand on top of her head—police-style—and shoved her into the passenger seat. Being this close to him, the smell of cheap perfume assaulted her senses.

  “You stink,” she snapped.

  “So do you. I’m gonna catch a buzz just breathing your air,” he shot back, slamming her door. She watched in the mirror as Nikko marched around to the back of the car and popped the trunk. Lifting the lid, he grabbed his CFA gym bag, set it on the ground, and yanked open the zipper. Standing right there in the parking lot, he stripped off his shirt. As if that was going to hide his betrayal. Did he really think she wasn’t going to tell Vi what she’d seen?

  Nikko was shoving his shirt into the bag when his head suddenly snapped up. He tensed, his steel gray eyes searching the parking lot before focusing on the alley. Maybe that was where his little cage-banger was waiting for him. The Rush alley was notorious for quick hook-ups—she should know.

  Nikko muttered a curse as he yanked a wrinkled, sweat-stained t-shirt out of the bag and quickly put it on. After tossing the duffle back into the trunk, he slammed it and rounded the driver’s side of the car. Opening the door, he poked his head inside. “Stay here,” he ordered. “And lock the door.”

  He didn’t wait for a response before slamming it and storming off toward the alley. She considered leaving. The thought of sitting here while he met up with some skank in a back alley made Pen nauseous. It’d serve the dick right if she hurled all over the passenger side of his fancy muscle car. The only thing keeping her ass planted was her level of intoxication. Since she’d been sitting, she was starting to realize just how drunk she was.

  Several more nauseating minutes passed. She closed her eyes against the spins, startling when the sharp rap of knuckles sounded on the window. Pen hit the unlock button, and after the electronic chink, Nikko opened the driver’s door and climbed inside.

  “Took you long enough. I’m practically sober now.”

  He grunted. “I highly doubt that.”

  “You have fun in the alley, asshole?”

  Nikko either didn’t hear or cared not to respond as he shifted his hips and dug his cell out of his pocket. “You got anyone to stay with you?”

  “Nope.” Her head lolled to the side and gave him a cold, appraising stare. “Nice shirt. You still stink like guilt, though. You can’t wash that shit off.” Rolling her head to look out the passenger window, she muttered, “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

  Pen must have dozed off on the way to wherever, because she woke at getting jostled in Nikko’s arms as he pulled her from the car. “I can walk,” she snapped.

  “Not with that ankle, you can’t,” he growled back. “You’ll be lucky if you didn’t tear a ligament.”

  He kicked the car door shut and headed toward the house. She recognized Vi’s concerned voice calling out, “Pen? What happened?”

  Vi held the door open for Nikko as he entered. “She’s drunk,” he grumbled, passing by.

  “At least I’m not a two-timing piece of shit,” Pen snapped back.

  “That’s enough, Penelope.” There was no misunderstanding the warning growl in his voice. Nikko carried her into the living room and dumped her onto the couch.

  “Ouch!” she complained, her ankle jostling from the impact.

  “She needs some ice on that ankle,” he told Vi as he headed down the hall. “And a wrap, if you have it. I’m going to go take a shower.”

  Vi headed to the kitchen and came back a moment later with a bag of frozen vegetables. She sat beside Pen, placing them on her horribly swollen ankle. “What happened?” Concern knitted her friend’s brows.

  Unable to bear her gaze, Pen flopped her forearm over her face. “I twisted my ankle.”

  “You’re drunk. Pen. This is getting out of hand. You have to slow down.”

  That wasn’t the first time she’d heard this spiel from Vi. And it wasn’t anything she didn’t already know. She wasn’t an alcoholic, but she did use it as an escape when she couldn’t cope with the memories and needed to break the cycle of her thoughts—when the pain became too raw. Was it the healthiest of choices? Nope. But people do what they need to in order to survive. So…if anyone wanted to judge her, they could suck it.

  “I don’t think I’m the one you need to be worrying about.”

  Her friend grew pale as she sat there, frozen. “Nikko was there tonight? At the club?”

  Pen nodded. “He was there with some brunette. She was hanging all over him and he wasn’t shoving her off, Vi.”

  “What did you do?” Her voice was wooden as she seemed to struggle to keep her emotions under control, but Pen knew better. This was killing Vi and she hated being the one to tell her,
but sometimes the truth hurt.

  “He left right after he saw me. Fucking coward. I chased after him into the parking lot. That’s when I rolled my ankle.”

  “Did he tell you who she was?”

  “Nope. Just shoved me into his car and brought me here.”

  Vi pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over Pen, tucking her in. “Why don’t you get some rest. Sleep it off and we’ll check out your ankle in the morning.” She patted Pen’s hip and then stood, heading in the direction Nikko had gone.

  Pen closed her eyes. She was almost asleep when her cell went off, the vibration against her ass startling her. Exhaling a sigh, she rolled to her side and retrieved the phone. Swiping her thumb across the screen, she checked her messages. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

  Where the hell are you? You better not be fucking some other guy. You belong to me.

  For a moment, panic started climbing up her throat, but she quickly shut that shit down. Pen did not belong to anyone—not now, not ever again. And how did this number get through her block? Before she could consider the wisdom of it, Pen typed back a response. And she was just drunk enough not to pull any punches.

  You were a fun lay—once. But I’m not looking for a repeat performance. I don’t belong to anyone. Stop messaging me.

  She hit “send” then shut her phone down before another message could come through.

  Chapter Six

  “The next time I get trashed, I’m wearing flats,” Pen complained. Vi tightened her hold around Pen’s waist as she limped toward the entrance of the Emergency Department. Each step sent shooting pain into her ankle, souring her already foul mood. She certainly wouldn’t be winning any congeniality contests today. Despite her intoxication, she hadn’t been able to sleep for shit after receiving that text. And now she was hungover, sleep deprived, and in pain. “This is ridiculous. Emergency Departments are for dying people. Do I look like I’m dying to you?”

  Vi shot her a sideways glance. “No. Unless I decide to kill you for being the world’s biggest bitch.”

  Pen stopped hobbling and canted her head, eyeing her friend. “That wasn’t nice. What the hell kind of a therapist are you?”

  There was a two-second pause before they both busted out laughing, making their trek to the double doors even more of a struggle.

  “Apparently, not a very good one.” The doors slid open and they stumbled through the entryway.

  Pen wanted to ask her how things went with Nikko last night, but she hesitated to bring up the touchy subject when they were getting ready to enter the hospital. That was a conversation best had with a bottle of wine.

  “You sure you don’t want a wheelchair?”

  “No. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself.”

  Vi laughed. “As opposed to what? This? We look like conjoined twins.”

  “Penelope?” The deep male voice halted their laughter.

  Pen’s heart stuttered inside her chest when she glanced up to see Kyle standing in front of them. If Vi wasn’t holding on to her, she would have done an about face and headed right out the door.

  “Hey, Kyle,” Vi greeted, filling the dead space when Pen didn’t respond.

  His gaze made an assessing sweep of the situation before dropping to Pen’s foot. “What’d you do to your ankle?”

  “I twisted it,” she replied curtly and nudged Vi to keep moving. They didn’t make it farther than a few steps before she went airborne, a startled yelp escaping her throat.

  “Put me down, Kyle!”

  But he seemed unfazed by her demands. What was it with these fighters? He was just as high-handed as Nikko.

  “You shouldn’t be walking on that ankle. It looks pretty bad.”

  “That’s what I told her,” Vi chimed in, following them as Kyle carried her up to the triage desk.

  “What are you doing here?” Pen grouched as they signed in. “Are you following me?”

  His brow arched in surprised. “I had an MRI on my ACL.”

  Yeah. Likely story. She wasn’t falling for his innocent guise.

  “I think I should be asking you that question seeing as you came in here after me.”

  “You can have a seat,” the triage nurse told them. “We’ll be with you as soon as we can.”

  Kyle turned, carried her over to a row of chairs, and sat her down. At least he was a bit gentler than Nikko had been. “I should go.”

  “Yeah, you probably should.”

  “Pen!” Vi snapped, sounding mortified by Pen’s candor. But Vi should have been used to it. She’d never been one to mince words.

  Kyle didn’t seem as offended by her bitchiness as Vi was. Honestly, he looked exhausted and seemed a little distracted. Not that it was any of her concern. After the shit he’d been pulling with those messages, he could pack sand for all she cared.

  “Thanks for your help, Kyle,” Vi called after him as he turned to leave. His hand shot up in a parting wave, but he didn’t bother to look back. As the double doors slid closed behind him, Vi turned on her and snapped, “What in the hell is your problem?”

  “He’s a creep.” Enough said. She didn’t really want to get into it, but the look on Vi’s face told her she wasn’t going to let it go.

  “Why? Because he helped you to a chair? You’re right. What an asshole.”

  “No, because he won’t stop messaging me. I’m sick of the harassing texts.”

  Vi gave her a surprised look. “Really?” But then skepticism quickly replaced her shock. “Kyle doesn’t exactly seem like the stalker type.”

  “You said yourself he was into me.”

  “Yeah, but I never said he wanted to turn you into a lampshade. How do you know it’s him?”

  “Who else would it be, Vi?” Was she really this naïve, or maybe she didn’t want to believe Nikko’s friend could be capable of this level of douche-baggery. But she’d learned long ago, you couldn’t trust anyone—not even the people closest to you. “The day after I slept with Kyle, I started getting all these messages. At first, they were pretty normal, a little needy, but now…” She shook her head. “He’s the only new factor in this equation.”

  “I don’t know, Pen. That doesn’t seem like Kyle’s style. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who needs to badger women to go out with him. Tell me what happened.”

  “The texts started when we were having breakfast. You saw them. Thinking about you… Blah, blah, blah… Then, why aren’t you answering me? Where are you? Who are you with? I’m telling you, Vi, it’s freaking me out.”

  “I don’t blame you. This is serious. I just don’t think Kyle is your guy. No offense, but he’s not the first man you’ve hooked up with and then blown off.”

  No, he wasn’t, but the timing was too big a coincidence. “No.” Pen shook her head. “It’s him.”

  “What about—” Vi’s cell starting ringing, cutting off her thought. It was just as well. Pen didn’t want to keep having this conversation. Vi dug her phone out of her purse and checked the caller ID. “I gotta get this.” As she walked over to an empty spot near the window, the triage nurse called Pen’s name.

  Kyle didn’t consider himself to be a guy lacking in the balls department. He’d faced countless opponents in the cage and he always tackled the tough stuff head-on. He’d never been one to run from a fight or dodge conflict, but if there was any way he could have avoided walking through that door, he’d have turned tail and hauled his ass out of there.

  He’d known it was coming. The call from Coach. In fact, he’d been expecting it sooner. But on the heels of having his MRI and a meeting with an orthopedic doctor, Kyle was neither in the mood or the mindset to be sitting down and having a face-to-face with the guy—mostly because he wasn’t sure he could handle the disappointment he knew damn well he was going to see. And having to sit there knowing he was the cause of it felt like someone was carving his heart from his chest with a rusty spoon.

  In the last week, everything
in his life had gone to shit. Why would his career be any different? Unable to put off the inevitable any longer, he rapped his knuckles against the door and waited for that familiar, craggy response.

  “Come in.”

  Forcing his feet into action, Kyle opened the door and entered the office that looked like a paper bomb had detonated inside it. Coach’s desk was littered with files, papers scattered everywhere. It was a testament to the guy’s age and his stubborn streak that he refused to get with the times and move into the electronic era. It was something they all frequently ribbed him about. But not today. No. There would be no humor coming out of either of them in this meeting.

  Coach glanced up from his desk; bushy gray brows pulled tight in displeasure at seeing Kyle limping in. “Scott,” he greeted with none of the usual camaraderie Kyle shared with the man who’d become the closest thing he had to a father since his own had died.

  “Coach.” He limped forward, finding it difficult to meet his stare. Silence stretched between them as Kyle took the seat across from him. He didn’t know what to say. There was no excuse for what went down here, and Kyle was abso-fucking-lutely aware that there would be consequences for his actions. When he couldn’t stand the tension another moment, he forced his gaze up. That seemed to be the trigger that set the guy off.

  “What the hell, Scott?” Coach tossed his pen on the desk and threw his arms in the air. “Do you have any goddamn idea what you two assholes have done? Not only to the reputation of this gym, but to the CFA? I want to know what the hell happened and I want to know now.”

  Yeah, as much as he wanted to avoid Coach’s wrath, Kyle was not going to get into the details of that throw-down with Regan. A.) It wasn’t anyone’s fucking business. B.) It just pissed him off all over again every time he thought about it. And C.) It wasn’t anyone’s fucking business. What was done was done and he was prepared to accept the consequences. No amount of talking was going to fix this. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.”