Jax_A Cocky Cage Fighter Christmas Story Page 8

  “Where the hell is Xavier?” I ask as I glance over at the empty seat beside Page and then around the arena.

  “Probably in some closet making out with a girl he just met. Like father, like son,” she says with an elbow jab to my ribs.

  “He needs to hurry up. The fight’s about to start,” I grumble.

  “He’s almost twenty-four and a grown man. We can’t physically drag him in here…”

  “Wanna bet?” I say, getting to my feet again. This time Page lets my hand go.

  “Good luck,” she tells me as I take off down the aisle toward the refreshment stand. And across the crowded lobby, I spot the back of my son’s dark head…kissing some girl that he’s got pressed into the bricks.

  “Xavier!” I call out so loud that it echoes around the room and has every head turning in my direction, all except for the intended one. Marching over to him, I reach up and grab the back of his shirt collar. I swear he gets an inch taller every few months.

  “Say goodbye, son. The fight’s about to start,” I say as I drag him away.

  “Dad! Let me go,” he snaps, jerking out of my grip. “God, you’re embarrassing.”

  “Don’t I know it,” I mutter. “Now get your ass to your seat before we both miss it.”

  “I was coming. Damn!” my son grumbles as I follow behind him back to our seats.

  “Hey! You made it!” Page says when she sees him, standing up to give him a hug. He towers a good six inches over her and is still a mama’s boy.

  “You were right. His tongue got lost on his way,” I tell her.

  Page smiles and shakes her head, but doesn’t respond as the lights dim and the crowd quietens down.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready for the first fight of the night? Maaallllone vs. Mennnndezzz!”

  Everyone cheers at the announcer’s words, and then the colorful spotlights start dancing around the room.

  “Introducing, for the first time ever, standing at six feet tall and weighing in at one-hundred and thirty-five pounds for her debut IFC fight, help me welcome to the cage…Maaaccccyyyy Maaaaloneeee!”

  “I’m gonna puke,” I lean over and tell Page.

  “I’m gonna cry,” she replies as we both get to our feet to clap as loud as humanly possible.

  Then there she is, my little girl, walking out of the tunnel for her first fight.

  “Oh, fuck, I might cry too,” I tell Page.

  With her raven hair in braids and her mother’s beautiful blue eyes, she looks so grown up at just eighteen. For the life of me, I can’t figure out how the time went by so fast.

  “She’s too skinny,” Page says to me over the crowd.

  “She’s fighting a girl in her weight class,” I remind her.

  “I know, but Macy’s so tall and lean…are you sure she’ll be okay?” Page looks up at me with worried eyes and asks.

  “She’s ready,” I tell her. “Even if we’re not.”

  I’ve seen our daughter training at the gym for years now with boys bigger than her, so if her nerves don’t get to her, I’m confident she’ll win. And no, it hasn’t been easy seeing her in the cage; but the more Page and I tried to talk her out of it, the more stubborn she became. I’m pretty sure she gets that from her mother.

  Macy’s face splits into a smile as she raises her gloved hands in the air and walks toward the cage in her black and red spandex shorts and tank top. There are tons of cameras here tonight, her fight hyped as everyone waits to watch the daughter of a legend to see if she’ll follow in my footsteps. That’s way too much pressure for the media to put on a teenager, but Macy’s handled it well, ever confident that she’ll not only win tonight but that she’ll have a long, successful career in the cage, just like her old man.

  Page and I decided years ago that whatever our children wanted to do with their lives we would support them. And we have. I just wish Xavier would be a little more excited about figuring out what that is for him. He’s no stranger to the gym either, bigger and broader than me. And if I had to bet, I’m sure he could take on any MMA veteran and win. But for whatever reason, he refuses to step foot in the cage.

  He doesn’t have to fight. I would be happy for him to find any direction in life other than being a playboy. Xavier just graduated from college with a business degree, so I’m sure he’ll figure out what he wants to do with his life soon. Page and I just need to be patient a little longer while he lives with us…

  I barely hear the announcer introducing Josie Mendez, the girl Macy’s fighting, before she steps into the cage with her. My daughter is taller than her competitor, getting that height from her mama, so that extra reach will hopefully help her in the fight.

  Oh God.

  Why the hell did I agree to let my daughter fight people for a living?

  Oh, that’s right. Because just like her mother, when she bats her blue eyes at me and says, please, Daddy, I can’t deny our daughter anything in life.

  “It’s time,” Page says, grabbing my hand again and squeezing the shit out of it. “Oh my god. It’s time,” she repeats before yelling, “Come on, Macy!”

  “You’ve got this, Macy!” I call out.

  And she does.

  Her fists pack one helluva punch when they land on the other girl, sending her off her feet and flying backward where she lands on the canvas. The ref stops the fight within seconds of the first round.

  “She did it! Oh, thank God!” I mutter before we whistle and cheer for her until my throat is sore.

  The trainer checks on Mendez, who is able to stand with assistance after a few moments, and then our daughter’s arm is raised as the winner.

  “That’s my girl!” I yell.

  “I’m so damn proud of her!” Page says as we hug in celebration, using one of her rare curse words because I know she was that nervous.

  “If Macy got hurt, you would’ve blamed me, right?” I tease.

  “Yes,” Page agrees with a grin. “But I shouldn’t have worried.”

  “No, we shouldn’t have,” I agree, reaching up to wipe the sweat off my brow.

  “She got lucky,” Xavier says.

  “Bullshit,” I tell him over Page’s head. “That was pure hard work and talent. And if you think it’s so easy, then you should try it.”

  “Maybe I will,” he says, flashing me a cocky grin.

  “Then what are you waiting for?” I ask him. “You’re not getting any younger.”

  “My seventh fight is next month,” he says, flooring me.

  “What are you talking about?” Page pulls away from me to turn and ask him.

  “I didn’t want you to make a big deal about it,” Xavier says while running his fingers through the front of his hair. “Like this,” he adds, nodding toward the cage where the announcer is getting ready to interview Macy.

  “I can’t believe it,” I say.

  “Me either,” Page agrees. “Both of our kids have decided to take after you.”

  “I got accepted into law school too,” Xavier decides to tell us right then and there.

  “You did?” Page exclaims. “I didn’t even know you applied! That’s great, honey,” she says, wrapping him in a hug.

  “Again, I didn’t want you two to get your hopes up in case I bombed…in both fields. And I still don’t know if I’m going.”

  “We just want to be there to support you, no matter what you do or what the outcome is,” I tell him, reaching for him to give him a hug.

  “But seriously, stop trying to steal your sister’s thunder,” Page warns with a poke to his broad chest. “Today’s her day. Tomorrow, we want to hear all about what you’ve been doing behind our backs.”

  “Deal,” Xavier says with a grin.

  “Macy, how does it feel to win your first professional fight in such a remarkable way?” the announcer asks, turning our attention back to the center of the cage where he’s holding the mic in front of her.

  “It feels like…like I’m finally where I belong,” she tells him
with a face-splitting grin. “Thank you Mom and Dad for letting me be the only girl at the gym and allowing me to follow my dreams. Love you!”

  “Love you too!” we yell back.

  Of all the professional fights of my long career, even after my first “retirement”, this win here today is by far the best.

  There’s no doubt that our son and daughter inherited a little bit of my temper. But they also grew up in a loving home with a mother and father who would do anything for them and constantly encouraged them to follow their hearts and dream big.

  It looks like Xavier and Macy are finally doing both.

  And thank fuck for that.

  The End.

  At least for now…

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  New York Times bestselling author Lane Hart was born and raised in North Carolina. She continues to live in the south with her husband, two daughters, and several pets named after Star Wars characters.

  When Lane's not writing or reading sexy novels, she can be found in the summer on the beaches of the east coast, and in the fall watching football, cheering on the Carolina Panthers.

  Join Lane’s Facebook group to read books before they’re released, help choose covers, character names, and titles of books! https://www.facebook.com/groups/bookboyfriendswanted/

  Connect with Lane:

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/WritingfromHart

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/lanehartbooks

  Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlanehart/

  Website: http://www.lanehartbooks.com

  Email: lane.hart@hotmail.com

  There are some new fighters in town!

  Keep reading for a sneak peek from Cain!

  Chapter One

  Gabrielle Kelly

  Three years ago…

  “It’s freezing out, Robbie! Where are we going?” I ask my older brother as I wrap my arms around myself to try and keep warm. The bitter winds here in Raleigh are almost strong enough to knock us off the cracked sidewalk in the rundown neighborhood, so my thin jacket isn’t doing me much good.

  “We should be there soon,” Robbie says, back hunched over with his hands buried in his tattered brown leather jacket.

  I don’t tell him, but I’m not sure how much further I can walk with my backpack weighing me down. My arms and legs are so weak I can barely lift them which I know is from not getting enough calories lately. How many calories are in a twin pack of saltine crackers? Not enough, that’s for sure, and the crackers are all I’ve had to eat in two days, washed down with dingy water from the faucet of the roach motel that tasted like rust.

  “Where are your things?” I ask Robbie, noticing he didn’t bring his duffle bag.

  Coming to a stop on the sidewalk, my brother faces me and says, “Listen, Gabby, I’m not gonna be able to stay at this new place with you.”

  “What do you mean? If you’re not staying, then I’m not either. You said that wherever you go, I go, remember?”

  Looking down the row of houses on the street and then back at me, he says, “You have to, Gabby. I can’t find any work, so I need to try and do this fighting thing. But they don’t allow girls in the dorms…”

  “Have you even asked?” I snap at him.

  “Yes,” he says, his blue eyes just a little lighter than mine looking just as weary, if not more so. And I can tell that no matter what I say, he’s not gonna budge on this.

  “So that’s it? You’re just gonna…gonna drop me off with some stranger and leave?” I shout at him as tears prickle my eyes.

  “It’s the best I can do for you,” Robbie says. “And it’s only for a few days at most. As soon as I can save enough for an apartment, you can move in with me. So, will you please just do this favor for me? Please?”

  “Maybe we should just go home…” I start, but Robbie immediately shakes his head in disagreement.

  “No! We’re not going home!” he yells. “Even if I wanted to, we don’t have enough money to get back down to Columbia, and there’s nothing at home for us but our cracked-out mother, who will steal the clothes off of our backs to feed her drug habit!”

  “There’s her sister, the one in Florida,” I remind him.

  “Aunt Betty doesn’t give a shit about us either, okay? She’s too busy hustling rich men to take in two teenagers,” he tells me. Then, lowering his voice he says, “I’ve already called and asked her.”

  “Oh.”

  “This is it, Gabby, our last resort. All I have left of our savings is a handful of pennies,” he says, pulling his palm out of his coat pocket to show me the copper coins in the center. “There are no other options for us unless we want to live in a homeless shelter.”

  “You promise that this is just for a few days?” I ask with my eyes burning from the wind and tears.

  Robbie glances over my shoulder. “Just for a few days,” he repeats, then nods behind me. “And we’re here. See, it’s one of the nicer houses on the block.”

  Turning around, I take in the white, two-story colonial with black shutters. The place looks gigantic compared to our tiny apartment back in South Carolina. What I like best about it are the flower boxes all around the porch that I bet will look pretty in the spring. Not that I’ll be here that long…

  “Go on inside, and I’ll come check on you soon,” my brother says while gripping my shoulders to nudge me toward the walkway that leads to the front door.

  “You’re not coming in with me?” I ask him in disbelief.

  “Nah, you’ll be fine,” he says.

  “How do you know? Have you ever met these people? At least come in to make sure –”

  “Don’t worry. It’s just a little old lady and a few kids that are probably your age,” Robbie says.

  “Are you even sure this is the right house?” I ask him.

  “It is. Now go on in and get warm,” he urges me. When I don’t move, he barks out, “Just go, Gabby!”

  “Fine,” I grumble in defeat, biting down on my chapped bottom lip so hard I can taste blood.

  I trust my brother, and he’s never let me down before. If he says I’ll be okay at this place, then I believe him. Besides, I’m too cold and hungry to argue about it anymore.

  Chapter Two

  Cain Knight

  Snap.

  The tip of my pencil pressed into my notebook so hard while I was shading the feathers of the angel’s wings that the lead broke again.

  I reach for the pencil sharpener on the coffee table to scrape away the jagged pieces left behind just as there’s a knock on the front door.

  “It’s open,” I call out from the sofa across from it without getting up or caring who’s on the other side. Everyone in town knows who this house belongs to. Someone would have to be suicidal to come in here with guns blazing trying to rob us, and I seriously doubt they would knock first.

  First of all, none of us here have anything of value, especially not money. And secondly, they would die trying. Mrs. Engle might look defenseless and frail, but the old lady always shuffles around in her bedroom slippers with a Ruger cocked and loaded in the pocket of her housecoat.

  Eventually, the front door cracks open until it’s spilling so much winter sun into the living room that it’s nearly blinding. When it shuts again, my eyes land on her…a new girl. She’s tall and so lean in her thin pink hoodie and frayed jeans that she must be half-starved and freezing to death. Her chin trembles as she peeks around the room from beneath long blonde locks so pale that with the sunlight streaming in from the windows she practically glows like an angel.

  Great, she may be gorgeous but I bet she’s gonna be a crier.

  “Are you gonna say something or just stand there all day?” I snap at her.

  “He’s…he’s coming back for me. My brother said he’ll be back in a couple of days,” she declares, her narrow shoulders squaring up a little more, as much as she can with her backpack weighing them down.

  “Sure, he is,” I remark with a roll of my eyes wh
ile I keep sharpening my pencil. “Until then, why don’t you put your shit down and take a load off?”

  She shrugs out of her backpack and lets it fall to the floor before she hesitantly comes over and takes a seat on the couch beside me.

  “What is this place?” she asks, rubbing her small, delicate hands together to try and warm them.

  The asshole in me starts to tell her the harsh truth about this house; but then I look over, and her sad, watery, blue eyes hit mine so hard the breath is knocked right out of me. Never in my life have I seen such a stunning sapphire color. What’s more potent than the beauty of them is the worry swirling around with a pleading hope that things aren’t as bad as she thinks they are.

  So I lie, or at least I leave out the painful truth for now.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “This is sort of a community center. Food and shelter for us, even clothes when we need them. It’s not so bad. The other boys here are pretty cool and won’t give you too much shit. I’m Cain, by the way.”

  “I’m Gabrielle, and I won’t be here long.”

  “What school were you going to?” I ask, rather than argue with her about the length of her stay.

  “Northeast High,” she answers while twirling on a lock of light golden hair that’s hanging next to her face.

  “Not anymore,” I tell her when I go back to shadowing my drawing. “You’ll be going to Southern High now.”

  “But I just got used to Northeast. I don’t want to transfer and start all over!” she exclaims.

  “You’re pretty; you’ll make new friends fast,” I reply, and then cringe when I realize what I just said. Fuck, if Ivan or Knox heard that, they would never let me live it down.

  “Um, thanks,” Gabrielle says rather than teasing me for letting my opinion on her looks slip. “Do you go to Southern too?” she asks.

  “No. I don’t go to school.”