Fighting Dirty
Page 19

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.”