Take Down, page 7
Nick nodded. “I thought you liked the guy.”
“Brian’s a good guy. He makes her happy, and that’s all I care about. But he has four grown kids and two of them have kids of their own and sometimes it gets crowded.” It didn’t help that one of Brian’s grandkids was eight. The same age Mason would’ve been. He couldn’t pretend to be a part of that big, happy family.
Nick took another gulp of water and, mercifully, dropped the subject. They’d been friends for years now, and he’d learned when he could push, and when to let things go. “I asked Jules to marry me.”
Looking at the smile on his friend’s face, Gabe couldn’t help but feel happy for them, even though that hollow in his chest started to ache. He absently rubbed a hand over it. “She say yes?” he teased.
“She did.” Nick’s grin got wider.
“Congrats, man. You two deserve to be happy.” The expression on Nick’s face was that of a man who’d just been handed everything he’d ever wanted. Gabe knew that feeling. He’d been that man once. The ache pulsed in his chest. He turned to make his way to the locker room, and Nick fell into step beside him. The gym was only half as busy as usual because a lot of the guys were still out of town for the holidays.
“Megan’s throwing us an engagement party next week at Alizé in the Palms. We’d like you to come.”
Gabe nodded, but his mind flashed back to that kiss. His heart rate, which had been slowing after the workout, picked back up at the thought of seeing her again. “Megan . . .” Gabe found himself speaking before he even knew what he wanted to say.
Nick looked over at him with a frown. “Yeah?”
“I noticed she came to the after party alone. She’s not seeing anyone?”
Nick got quiet and Gabe could feel the tension radiating off of him. Fuck. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. Nick knew he didn’t date. He knew Gabe’s only interest in her was physical. And she was his fiancée’s best friend.
“No, she’s not seeing anyone,” Nick said. “You interested?”
Gabe had thought about her every day since the interview, and that damn kiss had only made it worse. He jerked off every night now before he went to sleep, just like when he’d been fifteen. Only instead of the Playboy magazine he used to keep tucked under his mattress, his overly active imagination now provided all the material he needed. He’d close his eyes and see Megan, blindfolded with her hands bound behind her as she sucked his cock. He’d imagine her wrists and ankles tied to his bed as he thrust inside her for the first time, her eyes as wide with arousal as they’d been after that kiss. She’d make those sexy sounds as he fucked her, and she’d move beneath him, wanting more but completely at his mercy.
Yeah, he was interested.
“Nah, just wondering why someone like her would be single.” She was beautiful and smart, warm and sweet. It didn’t make sense, but maybe she’d just gotten out of a relationship or something.
“She’s looking for something serious, something stable.” Nick said the words with such intent that Gabe knew he was warning him away from her.
“Point taken,” he murmured, shaking his head. Gabe tried to get her out of his thoughts, but it was too late for that.
She’d left him a voice mail asking to set up a second interview. One night after listening to it—again—he’d jerked off and had still been hard and unable to stop thinking about her. He’d come very close to calling her back and asking her to meet him in a hotel room.
Maybe he needed to go through his phone and call one of the women he had an arrangement with, someone who’d be up for the hard, rough sex he needed right now. But something about that didn’t sit right with him. He’d be thinking about Megan the entire time, and the other woman wouldn’t be who he wanted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman this badly, and especially one so completely wrong for him.
He tried to push her from his mind as he and Nick stepped into the locker room. Gray lockers lined the two walls to the right in an L shape. A wide-screen television in the corner was set to SportsCenter. Gabe breathed in the familiar scents of disinfectant, cologne, and sweat. He spent so much time here that this place felt more like home than his apartment. Steam billowed out of the doorway that led to the showers, sauna, and jetted tubs in the back, as a guy walked out with a towel tied around his waist.
“Hey, Ito,” Gabe said, sitting down on the stool in front of his locker to unstrap his shin guards.
“Maddox. Giannakis,” Ito said as he walked to his own locker to get dressed.
Nick asked Ito about his vacation, but Gabe wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy staring at his phone, which was resting on a shelf in his locker. He’d started checking it a little more often after the Christmas text from Megan. It had been a simple Merry Christmas, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had meant something more. She was leaving things open between them. Letting him know that she was interested. He hadn’t responded because he didn’t want to lead her on any more than that kiss already had. He shouldn’t have done it, but he didn’t regret it. That kiss had been fucking perfect. Her curvy body had felt so good against his, and she’d tasted like sunshine. As much as he knew he shouldn’t, he wanted to hear from her again. Liked the idea that she was thinking about him. Liked to hear her voice.
“Gabe.” Dressed now, Ito sat down on the stool next to him and moved in close, his voice pitched low. “What do you think about the Mereo deal?”
Gabe shook his head. “Nick told me about your payout. Sorry, man, that’s harsh.”
Ito’s jaw clenched, his dark eyes glittering with anger. “I made fifty grand less than last year. I’m back to what I was making before I signed on with Darcy, despite taking more fights.”
“Same here.” A couple of other guys had walked into the locker room while Gabe had been zoned out thinking of Megan. They were both unranked fighters who’d been signed last year. They walked up next to Ito.
“I’m thinking about moving back to the East Coast,” one said.
“Imperial’s been calling. I made more with them,” added the other.
As Gabe listened to their complaints, he could feel himself getting angry on their behalf. The Mereo sportswear deal didn’t bother him because as champion, he’d had no problems getting more lucrative deals. He got his meals for free because he endorsed the service he used, and he’d done some print ads for a line of sports watches.
“I’ve been with this league for two years, and I’m worse off now than when I started,” Ito said, his fists clenched. “Fucking Darcy.”
By this time several other guys had made their way into the locker room and somehow Gabe found himself the center of the group. “Easy.” Gabe put his hand on Ito’s shoulder. When he looked at the group they all looked back at him as if he should do something. “Have any of you mentioned this to Darcy?”
“Oliveira told him to fuck off,” one of them said, and the others laughed.
Oliveira and his big fucking mouth.
“Some guys have been talking about organizing, starting a fighters’ union or something,” Ito said.
“That’s extreme. The first step should be talking to Darcy, see if he can make it right,” Gabe said. He respected Darcy. It wasn’t fair to spring something like that on him without trying to resolve the problem first.
Ito nodded. “We want you to talk to him.”
“Me?” Gabe just wanted to fight. The last thing he wanted to do was get in the middle of this.
“He trusts you. Respects you. He’ll listen to you when you tell him it’s unfair.” This was from Nick, who was leaning against his locker with his arms crossed over his chest.
“You’re marrying his daughter,” Gabe pointed out.
Nick grinned. “Glad you see my dilemma. I’m on thin ice with him.”
For fuck’s sake. Gabe sighed and they all started talking at once, trying to convince him that he was the obvious choice. “Settle down.” He raised his voice enough to be heard over the guys. “I’m not making any promises, but I’ll talk to him and let him know your concerns.”
If he was honest, he hated being in the middle of the issue, but he hated the injustice of it even more. And, hell, maybe dealing with this would distract him from thinking about Megan.
As her name floated through his brain, his dick twitched against his jock.
Fuck.
“You know, I think if your career as a journalist doesn’t work out, you’ve got a bright future ahead of you as a party planner,” said Jules with a smile, sipping her champagne.
Megan returned the smile and brushed away the compliment. “Please. The staff did pretty much everything. All I did was make a few phone calls. But I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
Jules’ smile widened and Megan followed her gaze across the elegant restaurant to where Nick stood by the bar, chatting animatedly with someone. His long hair fell around his shoulders, and Megan couldn’t deny that he looked handsome in his navy-blue suit. She’d never considered herself a fan of long hair on men until recently. Very recently, in fact. Her mind conjured up an image of Gabe—one of the many she’d spent way too long staring at on her computer screen—shirtless and sweaty, his hair in a messy topknot, golden strands falling down around his chiseled face.
Yep. Definitely a fan of the long hair thing now.
He’d never returned her call. Never texted her back. He’d gone radio silent since that kiss over three weeks ago, and she wasn’t sure if that frustrated her, or only made her more intrigued.
Megan scanned the restaurant, slowing at the massive wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Strip. Lights twinkled and flashed, brightening the night into something festive and glamorous. An entire city devoted to fun and sex and vice. An oasis in the middle of the desert. It was a metaphor for life, for how people treated the bright, fun spots. Not as home, not as reality, but a respite. An escape. After everything she’d been through, she’d made up her mind that she wasn’t going to live her life that way, shoving fun into the corners. She’d moved to Vegas to be closer to her parents, but also because she liked how the city felt, how it served as a reminder that the everyday could be fun and exciting and full of possibility. Sometimes she missed the changing seasons of Connecticut, where she’d grown up, but Vegas felt like home.
Jules turned to her, the light catching her fitted, shimmery lilac dress. “Thank you so much for all of this. I’m lucky to have you,” she said, giving Megan’s arm a squeeze.
“You’re welcome. Really, it was no trouble. The manager owed me a favor after an article I did on the restaurant.” Besides, planning it had been a nice distraction from Gabe’s silence.
Jules tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the antique diamond on her finger glinting. Megan shoved down the small wave of jealousy trying to rise up and crest over her. Someone called to Jules, and she waved, giving Megan’s arm another squeeze before weaving her way through the crowd to greet her guest.
The guests were a mix of people—Nick’s friends, Jules’ friends, people from the WFC, and family, including Nick’s brother, Alex, whom Jules had casually mentioned was single about seventeen times. Megan scanned the restaurant again, trying to pretend that she wasn’t looking for Gabe, who’d yet to make an appearance even though the party had started over an hour ago.
From across the room, she found Alex, whose gaze was on her, and she had to admit that he was pretty sexy. There was a resemblance between he and Nick—they had the same strong jaw, wide smile, and brown eyes. But his hair was lighter and shorter, and he had a different body type. He was taller than Nick, and bigger, bulkier. He had the look of someone who trained in the gym for aesthetic purposes, not athletic ones.
He shot her a smile and then pointed at his drink before tipping his head toward the bar. She returned the smile and shook her head, holding up her flute of champagne. As attractive as he was, it’d be a mistake to go over there. If she flirted with him, she knew she’d only be doing it to take her mind off of Gabe. And given that Alex was her best friend’s future brother-in-law, that was probably a sandbox she didn’t want to play in.
He frowned, a cute, teasing pout, and she was wondering if she should just go over there—no flirting—and stop communicating like a mime when she heard a male voice behind her.
“Read your article.”
She turned around to find Craig Darcy standing a few feet away, sipping a glass of scotch. He wore a light gray suit that looked custom-tailored to his athletic frame. With the dark purple tie and matching pocket square, he looked much more businessman than former brawler—even with his crooked nose and mangled ears. He took another sip of his scotch and she steeled herself at the frost in his blue eyes.
“Hi, Mr. Darcy. What did you think?” she asked, taking a fortifying sip of her champagne.
“Some of it was good. Some of it, not so much.”
“And I assume you want to talk to me about the not so much part?”
He didn’t even wait a beat before starting in. “I’ll have you know that I pay every fighter in this league fairly, just like I told you during our interview.”
She tipped her head. “I didn’t say you don’t. But you did tell me that some guys could make a million dollars a fight and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
He let out a frustrated sigh and rocked on his heels. “You’re twisting my words.”
“I’m not twisting anything. I’m presenting both sides.” She shrugged. It wasn’t the first time someone had been unhappy with the way they came off in a story. She wasn’t doing this to make friends or impress Craig Darcy. She was doing it to explore the fascinating world of the WFC and hopefully attract new fans to the sport. But she wasn’t going to pretend everything was sunshine and rainbows when it wasn’t, and she hadn’t in her first article.
She’d written about Gabe, and Nick, profiling them briefly, while contrasting their everyday experience with those at the bottom, showing the different aspects of what it was like to be a fighter in the WFC. She hadn’t shied away from presenting both sides of the Mereo deal, and asking questions about where all the advertising revenue went, when some fighters were struggling to make ends meet.
“I thought these articles were supposed to be unbiased.” Craig swirled his scotch, the single ice cube clinking against the glass.
“They are.”
“You’re clearly taking the fighters’ side.” A hint of anger had crept into his tone.
She smiled, knowing she needed to placate him. Writing future articles would be much more difficult if she didn’t have Craig Darcy’s cooperation. “I promise you, I’m not taking anyone’s side.”
He let out a frustrated grunt and downed the rest of his drink. “What happens with the advertising revenue is my decision to make. This is my league, and I decide how it’s run, and how the fighters are paid. You shouldn’t stick your nose into things you don’t understand.”
Anger flickered in her chest. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But I stand by what I wrote.” It was the only reasonable thing she could say that wouldn’t exacerbate his frustration. But the fact that he was so defensive told her that she was on to something.
Megan felt a hand wrap around her arm, and she whipped her head around. Gabe stared down at her, an unreadable expression on his face. “Hey, boss,” he said to Darcy. “Mind if I steal her?”
Craig shook his head. “She’s all yours.”
“We’re in the middle of a conversation,” she said as Gabe started to lead her away. Frustration and anger clawed together in her chest.
“We’re done. Thanks, Maddox.” Craig tipped his chin at Gabe, and Megan fought the urge to scream.
She jerked her arm out of Gabe’s grip and spun to face him, refusing to let him lead her through the restaurant like some kind of misbehaving child. Heat prickled her cheeks. “What the hell, Gabe?”
He huffed out a breath and tucked his hands into his pockets, and she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked. His hair was pulled back in its usual low ponytail, a few strands hanging loose around his face. A week’s worth of stubble clung to his jaw, framing his full lips. He wore a simple white dress shirt, open at the collar and rolled up to expose his corded forearms. Blue dress pants hugged his muscular ass.
“You don’t want to get on Darcy’s bad side,” he said, his deep voice rumbling over her skin. “Trust me, I was helping you.”
“I wasn’t getting on his bad side.”
“You didn’t see that muscle in his jaw starting to pop? You were pissing him off.”
“Thanks for the tip, but I don’t need your help.” She inhaled and, to her horror, felt tears pricking her eyes. She’d always been an angry crier, and for some reason suddenly seeing Gabe after weeks of silence was making her unreasonably angry. “I don’t need anything from you.” She said it as much for her own benefit as his.
Gabe stared at her, his blue eyes rooting her to the spot, something hot and dangerous flickering in them.
“Hey, Gabe.” Alex clapped him on the shoulder. “How’s it going? Haven’t seen you in a while.”
The intensity vanished from Gabe’s face. “Hey, Alex. Yeah, I’m good.”
“What’s new with you?” Even though his question was directed at Gabe, Alex’s warm, brown gaze was glued to Megan. And yet his gaze didn’t pin her down the way Gabe’s did. It didn’t make her feel as though the entire world had disappeared, leaving only the two of them. Alex was the man she should want, but she wanted Gabe, even though he was all wrong for her.
After chatting with Gabe for a minute, Alex flashed her a smile. “Come find me if you want to grab a drink, yeah?”
She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, and Alex moved away, making his way back toward where Nick and Jules stood at the bar.
“He likes you.” Gabe’s voice rumbled in her ear, his breath washing over her skin.
She spun to face him and couldn’t stop her questions from tumbling out. “And what about you, Gabe? Do you like me?” Her heart beat its hummingbird wings as she waited for an answer she knew she was foolish to hope for.
