Dirty English
Page 22

Her lips compressed. “Elizabeth Nicole Bennett, you will not walk away from me. I gave birth to you and I deserve some respect. So does Karl. He drove me here to see you.”
I shook my head, feeling the last vestiges of my control slipping away as my voice grew louder. “You don’t get it, Mom. You weren’t even there the day I came home from the hotel. You were in Vegas. You didn’t see how broken I was.”
She paled. “I got there as soon as I could, baby girl. I was trying to get a dancer’s job, to get ahead and make a better life for us both. You know I could have been great if I hadn’t gotten pregnant and then your dad …” Her voice broke.
I turned to go, but she grabbed my wrist. “Wait, don’t be mad at me, Elizabeth, for trying to make us a better life. Just think about what we said … okay?”
No!
I pulled away from her and pivoted, my nose crashing into a warm chest.
Strong hands clasped my shoulders, and I tilted my head up, up … straight into a pair of stormy gray eyes.
COOKIE’S KITCHEN WAS a dump but homey. It was mostly a stopping place for truckers off the interstate, but it was where Max liked to meet and talk shop, mostly about the underground fighting.
We strolled in the double glass doors.
Arlene sashayed over to us in a pink waitress outfit with a white apron. “My Brits are back,” she said with a smile. “Been missin’ you boys.” She nudged her head toward the back. “Max’s next to the window. He’s waitin’ for ya.”
“Thanks, love,” Dax said as he swooped down and picked her up in a bear hug and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed and popped him with a dishrag.
He watched the sashay of her hips back into the kitchen. “There’s not a woman alive who doesn’t want me. I think I’m going to change my name to Sex Lord.”
I snorted. “Yeah, that’s a real turn on.”
“Jealous?” he asked.
“Extremely.”
He grinned. “Don’t be. Not everyone can be as wonderful as me. You got your fists, I got my sexing abilities—which in my opinion is a hell of a lot better. Make love not war, bro.”
“That so?” I chuckled.
Max caught my eye and waved us over. He was in his late forties with thinning hair and a trim physique, and I’d met him at one of the local gyms where we’d both taught classes. Over the past three years, we’d grown close, and hiring him to work at my own place had been the next natural step.
We ordered and talked about the gym and the updates. If all went well with the renovations, then Front Street would be ready for business by January. We’d have a soft opening at first and then a grand opening party in February. The flat at the back would be finished a bit later, perhaps in June, since my first priority was to get the doors open for business.
“What’s new with Nick? You got anything?” I asked a bit later. Nick was the guy who ran the underground fights in North Carolina.
“Yeah. I’ve got some small fights lined up in the next few weeks for you, but Nick wants to schedule a big one for Halloween. He’s got a warehouse lined up as the venue with heavy spenders coming, not just college kids.” He slapped down a portfolio and then slid it over to me with two fingers. “Don’t be afraid to say no.”
Dax shifted in closer, peering down to take in the photos of a blond behemoth posing next to a makeshift octagon. “Bugger.”
Max rubbed his whiskers. “They call him Yeti. He played linebacker for UNC Charlotte but got kicked off for hazing freshmen players. Third strike.”
“Nice lad,” Dax murmured.
I studied him analytically. “It takes more than bulk to beat me. He needs skill. What’s his record?”
“Three knockouts and one tapped out.” Max sent me a rueful look. “Don’t be fooled by the football. He’s been working with a mixed martial arts trainer, hoping to hitch a ride to the UFC. He’s not like these pansy boys you’ve been grappling with on the weekend. He’s serious.”
“Style?” I asked.
Max grimaced. “Signature move is a guillotine choke until you black out. If you don’t, he pounds your face till you do.”
Nice.
“What’s the purse?”
“Two thousand if you lose,” he said.
“I won’t lose.” I couldn’t.
He grinned at my confident manner. “If you win, you get twenty-five percent of the purse, not to exceed fifteen grand. And bragging rights, of course.”
Fuck. That was the most I’d ever fought for.
“Take a look at this.” He pulled out his phone and handed over a YouTube video of Yeti and another man. “The guy he’s fighting is Lorenzo, a Cuban from Miami. Tried to go pro in boxing but opted out to make some fast cash first. Yeti nearly killed him a month ago.”
We watched the blond monster tear the Cuban apart in less than five minutes using his Thor-sized fists to pound him into the pavement.
Dax shook his head. “No way. He’s bigger than you and you’re a giant. Let me give you any extra money you need. I have my half of Mum’s inheritance.”
I shook my head. We’d already had this conversation. “That’s yours, and if Father found out, he’d disown you. You don’t want to piss him off anymore.”
It’s funny, but Dax had cleaved to the new family while I hadn’t. He adored Clara and Blythe, and losing family after Mum would kill Dax.