Herman Gomez was lolling. His defenses were getting weaker and weaker. He dropped his arms and I pulled back to smash his face as the crowd around me roared, like they weren't even people anymore, but some dark creature undulating and slithering out past the edge of the mat. I lifted my head for just a second to look at them, like a gladiator asking permission to deliver the final blow. I was met with shrill cheers and the sound of my name-not my real one, but the one that they called me, the name they gave me like I was the bogeyman that haunted their dreams.

Killer! Killer! Killer! Killer! Killer! Killer...!

I prepared to bring my fist down right into the center of Herman's face.

But then I saw her, and all reason left me. There, in the crowd, was Parker Jones, clinging to some guy's arm as she watched me with wide, unblinking eyes. I'd know those baby blues anywhere. I couldn't believe I hadn't seen her before. She didn't fit in here; it was like watching an angel from on high wallow in filth.

And suddenly, that name wasn't encouragement anymore. It was an accusation; a portrait of who and what I was. It was an insult, spat from the mouths of every person I'd ever hurt, ever shot out there in the desert. I saw their faces now, shadows lurking at the edges of Parker's radiant glow.

Killer! Killer! Killer! Killer!

My stomach turned. I put my fist down.

And Herman, seizing the opportunity, shot up and head-b.u.t.ted me so hard he broke my f.u.c.king nose.

Light burst in front of my eyes as I reeled backward, landing hard on my side. He'd split my lip too, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. There was blood everywhere; my eyes were tearing, turning the world blurry, and the frenzy of movement that followed was too indistinct for me to mount a proper defense.

Herman was kicking me so hard I lifted off the mat. I could feel myself shattering piece by piece. I knew that if he got on top of me, I was done. Finished.

I was going to lose a fight for the first time in my life. And all because of Parker f.u.c.king Jones.

~ Six ~

Parker

Holy s.h.i.t!

Kellan saw me. He'd looked my way, and he actually saw me, here in this ma.s.s of sweaty, drunken people. And now he was getting his a.s.s kicked, where a moment before, he'd been poised to take the win. I couldn't help but feel like somehow, this was all my fault.

I winced as the Hispanic guy in the blue shorts kicked Kellan so hard in the ribs that his body left the mat for an instant. Beside me, Thom cringed and sucked his teeth. "This is bad," he said over the chaos of the crowd. "Your guy's done for."

Great, I thought, clinging tighter to Thom's side as the audience pushed in around me. And I was hoping to catch him in a good mood...

Looking around, it was little wonder Kellan had recognized me. Just as I'd feared, I did not belong here. The women surrounding me were all wearing very revealing clothes with jeans so tight they left nothing to the imagination, or otherwise, skirts that showed the bottoms of their a.s.ses if they bent over just a little too much. The best I'd been able to do on such short notice was a black tank top, a push-up bra, and some Daisy Dukes that made me look more like a b.u.mpkin than an underground fighting fan. Thom hadn't fared much better-even in a t-shirt and jeans, he still looked like a hipster. Maybe it was the beard and curled-up moustache.

There was a girl near the ring, standing next to a bald guy Thom had pointed out to me earlier as one of the managers. She was just as wide-eyed as I was, screaming for Kellan to get up, to "murder the f.u.c.ker." The glitter on her skin sparkled in the dim light and made the pout of her lips all the more prominent. Was that his girlfriend? She looked worried enough that she might be.

My heart fell. That woman was curvy with a tiny waist and huge t.i.ts, and she wasn't afraid to flaunt any of it, either. How the h.e.l.l was I supposed to compete with that?

Would you get over yourself? I thought as Kellan rolled onto his belly and spat blood onto the mat in front of him. He's dying out there! You have to do something!

But what the h.e.l.l was I supposed to do? This was a fight-an illegal fight. I couldn't very well rush the ring and jump on his opponent's back. That would, at the very least, be cheating. Also, humiliating. Probably for everyone involved.

"Come on, Kellan," I whispered instead, feeling helpless as I watched the fight unfold. "Come on..."

As though he'd heard me, Kellan lifted his head and looked my way again. Something flashed in his hazel eyes just as the Hispanic guy went in for the kill.

Kellan grabbed his opponent's ankle and twisted hard, knocking him off balance. The guy fell and Kellan forced himself to his feet, gritting his teeth as he took a second to recover. He was hurting bad-I could tell from the way he was holding his side, and he wasn't bouncing on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet anymore. He was out of energy, and maybe out of time, but he wasn't going down without a fight.

I was in awe. How could someone come back from that? How could they endure so much trauma, so much pain, and still put their fists up?

It was like Kellan had caught his second wind. Maybe he wasn't the Energizer Bunny anymore, but he was making headway all the same. When the Hispanic guy came at him again, Kellan was ready, and he wasn't taking any s.h.i.t, either. He blocked when he needed to, dodged when he could, and waited for his opening, his jaw set, eyes ablaze.

"Look at that," Thom said beside me. "Maybe I shouldn't count him out yet, after all."

"I've never seen anything like it," I breathed. "Have you?"

Thom shook his head. "No. Your guy's way out of his league here, and he's taken a serious beating. I wouldn't be surprised if he's got a cracked rib or two under all those bruises. But look at him go. What a beast."

Yeah, I thought, unable to keep my eyes off his sweaty, bulging muscles. A real animal...

And just like that, it was over. Kellan took a mighty blow to the face, but used his opponent's momentum against him and managed to hit him hard upside his head in return. The guy fell, knocked out cold, his eyes rolling into his skull and his body limp. He bounced like a rubber ball and Kellan let out a breath, stumbling back a step as the ref dropped down to count the guy out.

"Killer Kellan wins!"

Killer Kellan. I hadn't totally understood it before, but now, after seeing him in action, it made perfect sense. The guy was incredible. Like he was made for this.

But even in the midst of rejoicing, he looked somehow... sad. I saw that same flash of pain I'd seen in him the day we met at the bar. There was something more to the story, here. I just had to find out what.

I started to move toward the ring, but the girl I'd seen before was already slipping between the ropes and rushing to Kellan's side, jumping up and down so that her ma.s.sive, bountiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s jiggled like Jell-O shots. She slid her hand into Kellan's and entwined their fingers, and I felt my stomach knot. I guess she is his girlfriend, after all.

Then he pulled away from her, called his manager over, and pointed. Right at me. That pain was gone, replaced by fury. Heat rose in my face. s.h.i.t. Kellan did not look happy to see me.

"Thom," I said, regarding the big, burly men working their way through the crowd toward me, "what do I do?"

"What do you do?" he laughed. "Go with it! Now's your chance to get the inside scoop. And while you're gone, I'll work my angle."

I nodded, trying to look braver than I felt. In reality, b.u.t.terflies had taken flight in my stomach and I was getting a little dizzy. When one of the hulking men closed their fingers around my wrist, I almost yelped.

"Killer wants to see you in the winner's room," he said, his whiskey breath thick in my ear. "You wanna go, or are you gonna disappoint the man?"

I made a face. Coercion? s.e.xy. "I'll go," I said anyway, letting the meathead lead me through the crowd, parting bodies with the expanse of his broad shoulders. I trailed along behind in his wake, my pulse racing with each new step we took.

What was Kellan expecting of me? Did he think I was here to f.u.c.k him? Or was he onto me, p.i.s.sed that I'd show up? He certainly hadn't looked happy. That scowl could've killed a man. But maybe he was still coming down from the adrenaline rush of nearly beating his opponent to death. Maybe being alone in this "winner's room" with him wouldn't be so bad.

Down a long hallway so far from the crowd that I could barely hear them now, I stumbled into the winner's room. The guy and his friend closed the door behind me with a little nod, as if the bed with its freshly washed sheets should have told me all I needed to know about what went on in here.

I took a few deep breaths, and with each one, my stomach knotted even more. The waiting, the antic.i.p.ation, was murder. My thoughts kept drifting between the anger in Kellan's eyes and the expectation of what I was supposed to do in here with him. My face flushed, and suddenly the room felt very small.

Jesus. After a fight like that, a girl couldn't help but wonder about what Kellan would be like in bed. Would that aggression translate into a rough f.u.c.k between the sheets? Would he manhandle me like a rag doll, pounding into me so hard I wouldn't be able to walk? Would he leave bruises on my thighs, on my hips, even on my shoulders in a way that would have me dreaming about him for years to come? Would he pull my hair and spank me, turn me out, leave me a puddle of satisfaction and desire smoldering on the floor?

Stop, I told myself. Focus on the story. But my mind didn't want to linger there. It wanted to delve back into that illicit fantasy, the one where Kellan's hard body was pinning me to the mattress and making me scream. Was he just as dogged and bloodthirsty in bed as he was in the ring? And could I even handle it, if he was?

I jumped d.a.m.n near two feet in the air when he opened the door and slammed it behind him, his eyes ablaze. Kellan must have come straight here from the ring. He was still b.l.o.o.d.y and bruised, his muscular physique covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His scent was powerful, overwhelming, all musk and fire. The tattoo on his chest, the Marine Corps motto and symbol, looked bolder than ever with all that adrenaline pumping through his veins.

The way he was looking at me, no man had ever looked at me before. It was like he was simultaneously trying to stare into my soul and undress me with his eyes. Kellan's stare was actually palpable, like a caress that ran the length of my body, stealing into all my most intimate places and lingering there. My knees went a little week and my panties clung to me as I parted my lips to speak, to offer some excuse for tracking him down.

But Kellan spoke first, snarling so low I could feel the rumble in my chest. "Parker-what the f.u.c.k are you doing here?"

What was I doing here? Holy h.e.l.l, this was a bad idea. I really hadn't thought this through. Kellan had been right when he'd told me before that I didn't belong here, that this wasn't my world. But I'd been too stubborn to listen to him. Just like my dad, I was pigheaded through and through.

Kellan stepped closer to me, his hands balled into fists, his eyes narrowed. "Well?" he prompted.

I couldn't tell him I was here because I was interested in him. That would have been both unprofessional and humiliating. And he probably would have thought I was a crazy person. I mean, who does this kind of thing just because they like a guy, especially a guy who's already said he just wants to be left alone?

But I couldn't tell him about the story, either. Not without making him angrier than he already was.

I gave Kellan the only answer I could, one that was as honest as it was shameful. "I... I really don't know."

~ Seven ~

Kellan

I don't know? That was her excuse? That wasn't f.u.c.king good enough!

"You don't belong here, Parker," I hissed, closing the distance between us until I towered over her. "This isn't your world. For f.u.c.k's sakes, look at you. You could have gotten hurt."

"Hurt?" she said, c.o.c.king her head. It made her hair fall down in such a perfect way that it took every iota of self-control inside me not to reach down and brush a lock of it back behind her ear.

"Yeah, hurt," I repeated, pointing in the direction of the crowd we'd both just escaped from. "Those guys out there, the ones who come to places like this? They're mostly a.s.sholes, Parker. They don't play nice. And a woman like you, with those innocent eyes and legs for days-you might as well have walked in here with a G.o.dd.a.m.n bullseye painted on your t.i.ts."

Parker snorted and shook her head. "Relax. I came here with a friend."

A new rush of rage swelled inside me. Yeah, I'd seen her friend-the objectively good-looking guy whose arm she'd been dangling off of during the fight. He stuck out almost as much as she did.

"What the f.u.c.k were you doing with that tool, anyway?" I snapped before I could stop myself. I had no claim to her. In fact, I'd done nothing but push her away. But seeing Parker with another man made my blood boil. Whether or not that was rational was an entirely different story.

"Thom?" she asked. "He's the one who brought me here. I wouldn't have known where to look, if it wasn't for him."

"Seems like your boyfriend doesn't have your best interests at heart, if he brought you here," I sneered.

Parker blinked at me a moment. Then she laughed. My c.o.c.k twitched at the sound and I clenched my fists at my sides. G.o.dd.a.m.n, I wanted to kiss her and put my fist through that f.u.c.ker, Thom's, face all at the same time.

"Thom's not my boyfriend," she said, finally tucking that wayward blonde strand behind her ear. "Though he does have one of his own."

The inferno inside me died down just a little. I felt my jaw relax. I hadn't even realized how tightly I'd been clenching it. "Oh. s.h.i.t. Really?"

"Really," Parker affirmed with a nod. "Just got engaged a few months ago, actually. Trust me, Kellan, I wouldn't have brought a boyfriend here to see you."

I raised a brow. "And why not?"

"Because..." She trailed off, mouth slightly open as she hesitated. I could just imagine capturing her lips like that, pressing her back against the wall and slipping my tongue into the sweet ecstasy of her mouth. And then slipping something else in there, too. "Because I wanted to talk to you alone, and I imagine boyfriends get jealous over that sort of thing."

I felt my d.i.c.k harden even more, despite my attempts to keep it down. Traitor. It knew what to expect once in this room, and I'd been thinking of Parker for a long d.a.m.n time now. It was animal instinct. And I was just barely controlling it.

"You imagine, huh? So you don't have one?" I asked her. "A boyfriend, I mean."

Parker shook her head and averted her eyes. The flush on her cheeks told me she was a little embarra.s.sed about that fact. "No."

All kinds of thoughts immediately crossed my mind. Was this goody two-shoes a virgin? No, she didn't strike me as that nave, although given the fact that she was here in the winner's room with me, I still questioned her judgment. She was probably just inexperienced, then, probably the high-strung girl who put her career before everything else, especially men. What'd she say she was back at the bar-a writer? s.h.i.t, she probably wrote romance. That was what most women writers who needed a good f.u.c.k did.

f.u.c.k, I had to stop thinking like this. Parker was inserting herself into a dark place she was never meant for, one that would chew her up and spit her out if she wasn't careful. I cleared my throat and moved away from her, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to put some distance between us again.

"No wonder you're here," I grumbled. "You don't have anyone to talk some d.a.m.n sense into you."

"So are you mad because I might have had a boyfriend, or because I don't?" Parker asked, folding her arms over her chest. The way it pushed her t.i.ts up finished the job on my d.i.c.k-I was rock hard now. "Because it seems like you can't decide."

"I'm mad because you don't f.u.c.king listen," I told her, doing my best to hide my stubborn, throbbing erection. "I'm mad that you're here at all, after I told you to stay the h.e.l.l away."

"I can't do that," she replied with a shake of her head. "I know you're trying to protect me, but..."

"Why the h.e.l.l not, you don't even know me!" I threw my hands up, frustrated, showing off the blood and inky bruises all over me. "Why the h.e.l.l can't you stay away from this, Parker? Don't you know what's good for you?"

"Because I want to get to know you," she answered, ignoring my injuries and looking straight into my eyes. "I didn't get a chance to at the bar. You didn't give me a chance. And I want one, bad enough that I'd show up here, at a place like this." She scuffed her foot a little against the floor. "You never called me. So what choice did I have?"

I leaned back on my hands. She'd been waiting for my call, huh? That was new. Usually women walked in and out of my life on a whim-at least, these ring girls sure as h.e.l.l did. Having a chick pursue me was definitely not something I was used to.

I hated to admit it, but I kind of liked it. I liked how stubborn Parker was. I liked that she didn't listen. I liked how it frustrated me and how stiff my d.i.c.k got every time that happened. I wanted to pound it into her, to break that stubborn streak and have her mewling and begging for my touch.

s.h.i.t. She was in my head. And if I didn't stop thinking like this, she was gonna notice how she was making me feel pretty d.a.m.n quick.

One look at her face told me it was already too late. Parker was staring at my d.i.c.k, at the tent it was making in my shorts. I didn't know whether to adjust it or put a pillow over the d.a.m.n thing, but she didn't look disgusted. If anything, she looked awed.

Just like how she'd looked at me while I was in the ring: eyes wide, lips parted. f.u.c.k, what I would've given to have them wrapped around the head of my c.o.c.k... to fill that smart mouth of hers with my...