Holding Strong
Page 94
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Yes. His father and I have been married six years now.”
“He must have robbed the cradle with you. And I thought Denver was lucky.”
Her smile brightened another few watts. “Why, thank you.” Holding out a hand, she said, “Pamela Barnett Lewis.”
Taking her hand, he frowned. “Denver should have walked you out.” He inched closer. “Can’t believe he didn’t.”
“He was in the middle of things,” she said as if she knew that for a fact, when in reality, she had no idea what he did in the gym.
“Well, his oversight is my fortune, right?” Still holding her hand, he smiled at her, a bold smile that frightened her just a little. “Carver Nelson, at your service.”
* * *
ARMIE LOOKED AROUND the restaurant and half wished he’d worn something different. It was upscale casual, not one of the fast-food places he preferred.
Then again, screw it. He didn’t want to be here anyway. Besides, Cannon also wore a T-shirt. Sure, his was a nicer SBC T-shirt. But the other two...
And that was another point of contention, damn it.
The other two.
He thought he’d be doing a quick burger with Havoc, and instead it was Havoc and Simon Evans both in a sit-down restaurant with starched tablecloths and fancy menus. That Cannon had been invited along... Yeah, he didn’t yet know if that was a good or a bad thing. Cannon had a way of pushing him, seeing the imagined “best” in him and wanting others to see it, too.
At the moment they all watched him.
Sitting back in the seat and sprawling out his legs, Armie quirked a brow. “I think I’ve forgotten my lines in this little drama. Someone give me my cue.”
Simon laughed, then shook his shaved head and half the damn women in the place looked ready to swoon. Simon Evans, better known in the fight community as Sublime, always had that effect on females. Matrimony and a few added years hadn’t changed anything. “You’re a funny guy, Jacobson. Do they call you Quick because of your wit?”
“Not exactly,” Cannon chimed in with a big grin. “But that’s a long story.”
No, actually it was a short story—one Armie had no intention of sharing.
Havoc said, “Let’s order before we talk.”
Simon gave a signal and a waitress rushed up to them. Less than half a minute later they all had drinks.Armie was the only one to order a beer, and worse, he’d ordered a loaded burger while the others had lean chicken and fish.
Havoc and Simon scrutinized him. He didn’t know if it was over the food, which he wouldn’t explain because, seriously, his record spoke for him. When he needed to be on weight, he was.
When he could cut loose and indulge, he did that, too.
“So,” Simon said. “Explain Quick.”
“Quick knockouts, quick submissions. Fast wins,” Armie said before Cannon could tell the real story. “That’s the basis of my fight name.”
“Somehow,” Simon mused, “I think there’s more to it than that.” Stalling Armie’s protest, he continued. “But that’s not why we’re here.”
Havoc sat back, his expression far too serious. “Tell me, Armie, what makes you tick?”
Ah, hell no. He didn’t want to get into any psycho-babble. “No idea what you mean.”
“You just said it—quick, maybe even expedient wins.”
“Low-level competition?”
“No,” Simon said. “Many of the men you’ve handily beaten have gone on to join us.”
“Every fight,” Havoc added, “you go out dominant, you stay dominant, every move slick, ingrained.”
While Cannon beamed like a freaking proud father, Simon chimed in again. “Never a glitch, you never falter.”
What the fuck? He faltered. He just didn’t let it show. Not in a fight.
Havoc drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Something drives you and I want to know what it is.”
Jesus, between Cannon soaking it all in, Havoc dissecting him and Simon remaining amused, he almost squirmed. Being in the hot seat sucked. Giving himself time to think, Armie took a long drink of his beer before asking, “Why the inquisition?”
“Because I want you in the SBC.”
“We want you in the SBC,” Simon corrected.
“And to do that we need to better understand you. I know guys who get off on the audience—they feed from it. I know guys with something to prove, either to themselves or someone else. I know guys who consider winning a badge of honor.”
“He must have robbed the cradle with you. And I thought Denver was lucky.”
Her smile brightened another few watts. “Why, thank you.” Holding out a hand, she said, “Pamela Barnett Lewis.”
Taking her hand, he frowned. “Denver should have walked you out.” He inched closer. “Can’t believe he didn’t.”
“He was in the middle of things,” she said as if she knew that for a fact, when in reality, she had no idea what he did in the gym.
“Well, his oversight is my fortune, right?” Still holding her hand, he smiled at her, a bold smile that frightened her just a little. “Carver Nelson, at your service.”
* * *
ARMIE LOOKED AROUND the restaurant and half wished he’d worn something different. It was upscale casual, not one of the fast-food places he preferred.
Then again, screw it. He didn’t want to be here anyway. Besides, Cannon also wore a T-shirt. Sure, his was a nicer SBC T-shirt. But the other two...
And that was another point of contention, damn it.
The other two.
He thought he’d be doing a quick burger with Havoc, and instead it was Havoc and Simon Evans both in a sit-down restaurant with starched tablecloths and fancy menus. That Cannon had been invited along... Yeah, he didn’t yet know if that was a good or a bad thing. Cannon had a way of pushing him, seeing the imagined “best” in him and wanting others to see it, too.
At the moment they all watched him.
Sitting back in the seat and sprawling out his legs, Armie quirked a brow. “I think I’ve forgotten my lines in this little drama. Someone give me my cue.”
Simon laughed, then shook his shaved head and half the damn women in the place looked ready to swoon. Simon Evans, better known in the fight community as Sublime, always had that effect on females. Matrimony and a few added years hadn’t changed anything. “You’re a funny guy, Jacobson. Do they call you Quick because of your wit?”
“Not exactly,” Cannon chimed in with a big grin. “But that’s a long story.”
No, actually it was a short story—one Armie had no intention of sharing.
Havoc said, “Let’s order before we talk.”
Simon gave a signal and a waitress rushed up to them. Less than half a minute later they all had drinks.Armie was the only one to order a beer, and worse, he’d ordered a loaded burger while the others had lean chicken and fish.
Havoc and Simon scrutinized him. He didn’t know if it was over the food, which he wouldn’t explain because, seriously, his record spoke for him. When he needed to be on weight, he was.
When he could cut loose and indulge, he did that, too.
“So,” Simon said. “Explain Quick.”
“Quick knockouts, quick submissions. Fast wins,” Armie said before Cannon could tell the real story. “That’s the basis of my fight name.”
“Somehow,” Simon mused, “I think there’s more to it than that.” Stalling Armie’s protest, he continued. “But that’s not why we’re here.”
Havoc sat back, his expression far too serious. “Tell me, Armie, what makes you tick?”
Ah, hell no. He didn’t want to get into any psycho-babble. “No idea what you mean.”
“You just said it—quick, maybe even expedient wins.”
“Low-level competition?”
“No,” Simon said. “Many of the men you’ve handily beaten have gone on to join us.”
“Every fight,” Havoc added, “you go out dominant, you stay dominant, every move slick, ingrained.”
While Cannon beamed like a freaking proud father, Simon chimed in again. “Never a glitch, you never falter.”
What the fuck? He faltered. He just didn’t let it show. Not in a fight.
Havoc drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Something drives you and I want to know what it is.”
Jesus, between Cannon soaking it all in, Havoc dissecting him and Simon remaining amused, he almost squirmed. Being in the hot seat sucked. Giving himself time to think, Armie took a long drink of his beer before asking, “Why the inquisition?”
“Because I want you in the SBC.”
“We want you in the SBC,” Simon corrected.
“And to do that we need to better understand you. I know guys who get off on the audience—they feed from it. I know guys with something to prove, either to themselves or someone else. I know guys who consider winning a badge of honor.”
