Fighting Dirty

Flattening both hands to the front of that ridiculous shirt, her palms over his solid chest, she stepped him back. “You kissed me once. Felt like you meant it at the time—until you got all disgusted.”

His chin hitched. “Disgusted? Not even.”

Undeterred, Merissa pressed a fist to her heart. “You leveled me, Armie. You made me feel terrible. Over a single kiss. So yeah, I get it. You don’t want me. Understood. Believe me, I don’t want to put myself through that again.”

Before she could move he caught her arm once more.

She stared at him, waiting, some small part still hopeful that he’d say something to change it all.

He didn’t. His gaze shuttered, his jaw working, he fought himself. And then, as if by force of will, he opened his fingers and turned her loose.

Almost choking on her hurt, Merissa turned to leave—and nearly crashed into her brother. His muscular little mutt, Muggles, yapped at her.

Cannon took one look at her and drew her into his side. “Hey, you okay?”

Armie made to move past them, but without accusation, Cannon blocked him.

Merissa muttered, “I’m taking off. It was a long day and I’m beat.”

He kissed her forehead. “All right.” Turning to Armie, he included them both when he said, “Yvette has an announcement to make first.”

Keeping his arm around her, Cannon led her to the living room. Muggles ran up to Yvette, who stood at the front of the room with that giddy smile back on her face. All around her were their friends Denver and Cherry, Stack and Vanity, Gage and Harper. The single guys—Leese, Justice, Brand and Miles—had all arrived solo, so maybe they’d known this would be a party with an intimate announcement.

Guessing their news, Merissa found another smile, too. “Go on,” she told Cannon. “I’m fine.”

He hugged her, then joined Yvette up front. He scooped up the dog in one arm and put his other around his wife.

Feeling a little giddy herself, Merissa ignored Armie at her side and just concentrated on her brother’s happiness.

Leaning her head on Cannon’s shoulder, Yvette said, “I’m pregnant!”

And Cannon, so much in love, added with satisfaction, “We’re having a baby.”

The cheers were nearly deafening, and that set Muggles to howling in excitement, his pudgy legs pumping as he tried to run. Everyone started hugging everyone else and somehow... Yeah. Merissa ended up against Armie.

He looked as stunned as she felt, but only for a second. Then he grinned, hugged her off her feet and whirled her. When he set her back down, his grin tapered off to a fond smile. “You’re going to be an aunt.”

“A baby.” Tears pricked her eyes and her own smile kept twitching. “I can’t wait.”

When Cannon regained everyone’s attention, they faced forward again. But this time, Armie slipped his arm over her shoulders. It was so much like the old days when she’d been younger and Armie was always around, teasing her and looking out for her. Just being there. Emotions swelled.

“I’ve known for a little while now,” Yvette said.

That got everyone playfully complaining.

“We had Denver’s fight, and then he and Cherry got married,” Cannon explained. “Then Stack and Vanity turned Vegas into a wedding, and we figured that was all good news enough.”

“Ours could wait,” Yvette said. “But now I’m so glad to share.”

“Must be something in the air,” Vanity said. “Stack’s sister is expecting, too.”

Denver cocked a brow at Cherry, but she hurriedly said, “No. Not me. I’m enjoying being a wife for a while.”

Vanity saluted her. “Hear, hear.”

For the next hour everyone chatted and laughed, discussing everything from names to nursery furniture to a baby shower. The food Yvette had set out got devoured in record time and overall, the mood remained jovial. After she’d put in enough time for Cannon and Yvette to know she was thrilled with their news, Merissa decided to slip away. Or at least, she tried to. Armie followed her without being obvious to others. She, of course, was acutely aware of his nearness. If he looked at her, she felt it like a warm touch. Whenever he brushed against her, it hit her like a jolt. Maybe he could take it, but she couldn’t.

For the sake of her own pride, she needed away from him. Right now.

Yet when she hugged her brother and Yvette goodbye, Armie was there. She pulled on her coat and bumped into him. Without bothering to button up, intent only on escape, Merissa darted outside.

Finally alone, she paused a moment and concentrated on regrouping. The brisk evening air stung her nose and a chilling wind cut through her. She closed her coat and turned up the collar.

She’d just taken a deep breath when the door opened again and Armie stepped out.

The porch light illuminated them and part of the yard with its yellow glow. In nothing but his T-shirt, shoulders up against the cold, Armie watched her.

“What,” Merissa demanded, “are you doing?”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I wanted to talk a second.”

No and no. She didn’t want to talk. She already knew what he’d say anyway. “Not necessary.” She turned and headed to her car, and damn him, he stayed right on her heels. At the curb she spun to face him. “Armie!”

One side of his mouth curled. “Rissy.”

She threw up her hands in an expression of frustration.

He rubbed one eye, the back of his neck. Dropping his hands, he stared at her. “That kiss?”

Shocked, all the air dragged from her lungs, she went still.

“From a few months ago,” he clarified, as if she didn’t remember, as if it didn’t replay in her mind almost nonstop, every single day. “In Rowdy’s bar?”

“Right. I remember.” Although she often wished she could forget.

She’d tried hitting on Leese, just to shake off her melancholy over Armie. But Leese was a pretty awesome guy and he’d let her down easy, while making it clear he’d be on board except he knew her heart was elsewhere. Since then, she and Leese had become even closer friends.

“What about that kiss?”

For the longest time Armie stared at her, then he stepped closer and breathed, “Hottest fucking thing I’ve ever felt.”

Oh God. She couldn’t hear this. She couldn’t feed the hope.

“I’m going to be straight with you.”

Her heart punched. “Okay.”

“There’s not a thing in this universe I’d enjoy more than having you.”

Having her? Just hearing him say it made her body react.

He touched her hair, smoothed it back over her shoulder. “Not winning the lottery. Not a title belt. Nothing.”

His thumb moved over her neck and her pulse leaped.

“I’ve thought about it,” he whispered. “A lot.”

“Me, too.”

“Shh.” He touched a fingertip to her lips to quiet her. “I seriously doubt we’re thinking the same things.”

She badly wanted to know what he thought. Armie was known for his sexual excesses and the variety of his experience. Far too often she tortured herself wondering what things Armie might want to do with her.

“And that’s the problem,” he added.

She wanted to cry that there was no problem, but she could already see he wouldn’t listen.

“I want you, Rissy. That should never be in question.” He held her chin, searched her face, and repeated, “Never.”

And there it was: unrelenting hope. Unsure what to say, she nodded.

“But more than that, I want you to have better than me.”

Wait... “What?” He couldn’t be serious. Better than him? Did he not know what an amazing man he was? How could that be? He had friends who cared about him. He had Cannon, and damn it, her brother was the finest man she knew. Cannon wouldn’t be best friends with a man who wasn’t every bit as awesome.

“I know you’re leaving your brother’s house because of me, and that’s the last thing that should ever happen. I don’t want to chase you away from your family. I don’t want to make you feel bad.”

“Too late.”

His face tightened. He dropped his hands and took a step back. “This is where you have to help me.” Looking far too serious, he said, “I don’t ever want to hurt you—you have to know that. So you need to get your priorities straight.”

She shook her head—but he said it anyway.

“Move on. Find yourself a good guy. Hell...” He choked a little, then whispered, “Settle down, get married, have kids of your own.”

Without him.

That’s what he meant. Do all of that—without him. A refreshing wave of anger helped to smother some of the awful pain. “You think I can’t?”

“I know you can.” He swallowed. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”

That made her laugh. Any man—other than him. “Did you notice my new look? I mean, all the other guys did.”

Very quietly, he confirmed, “I noticed.”

“Well, that’s me, moving on.” She flipped her hair. “New look, new attitude. I might even take a new position at the bank.” A different managerial position that would give her some distance from Armie. Sucked that she’d also be farther away from her brother—especially since she’d soon be an aunt—but she didn’t know any other way. “I’ve decided to take a page from your book, Armie.”

“Jesus.”

“What? You think you’re the only one to play the field, to get a little wild? I want experiences, too.” She’d wanted those experiences with him, but never would she beg him. “Go on about your life with a clear conscience—because I’ll be going on with mine.”

Jerking away, she got in her car and fumbled for her keys. Armie stood there, rigid, his gaze unreadable. And somehow, despite being a real badass, he looked wounded.

Finally, when she got the car started, Armie walked off, across the street in front of her to the other curb, where he got in his truck. Breathing hard, Merissa stared at him until he gunned the engine and pulled away.

Going the opposite direction of her. Always.

And damn it, it cut so deep she couldn’t stop the tears. Because this time she knew it was over—when it had never really begun.

CHAPTER TWO

MID-FEBRUARY TURNED INTO early March and Armie didn’t see Rissy at all. Not at the rec center, not at Rowdy’s bar where everyone usually hung out on Friday and Saturday night, and not at her brother’s house. He wanted to ask about her but knew he didn’t have the right.

Sitting alone at the bar, drinking a freaking lemon water, he only half listened as Miles and Brand talked about upcoming fights at the table opposite him. Women tried to get his attention but he didn’t have any interest. He’d put up a good front, given it a shot several times, and he’d probably convinced everyone with his bullshit, but the truth was that he hadn’t had any real interest in a good long while.

Not since that day he’d finally tasted Rissy.

His gaze went to the small hallway in Rowdy’s bar. Dim and narrow, it led to an office and the johns. Months ago he’d caught Rissy there and for a few minutes he’d lost the fight. Mouth on mouth, tongues playing, damp heat and a firestorm of sensation. Remembering, he closed his eyes and gave in to the surge of molten lust. God Almighty, she’d tasted good. Felt good. Fit against him perfectly.

An elbow to his ribs got his eyes open again. Instead of one of the guys, it was Vanity, Stack’s wife, who slid onto a stool beside him. “What?” he asked.

“You tell me,” she said, her gaze unwavering, her nails tapping on the bar counter.

Gorgeous beyond words with long blond hair, a killer body and an angel’s face, Vanity was still one of the most down-to-earth, kindhearted people he knew. “Is that supposed to make sense to me, Vee?”

“Yes. You’re moping and I want to know why.”

Stack stood behind his wife and braced an arm on the bar. “It’s the upcoming fight,” Stack predicted. “He’s getting cold feet.”

“No way,” Justice said, taking a seat behind Armie.

Armie looked back and forth between them. “Sure, join me. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Vanity patted his arm in a pitying way. “We don’t stand on formality, not when we see a friend moping.”

“I’m not moping,” he denied. God, he was so moping.

Justice laughed. “I’ve watched five different women hit on you. All fuckable—excuse me, Vanity—and you made excuses to all of them.”

“No offense taken,” Vanity said, and then to Armie, “Seriously? Are you off the market?”

She looked way too pleased by that notion.

Stack laughed. “That’s even more ridiculous than my gibe about him having cold feet.”

A brunette approached the bar and Armie swallowed a groan. Of course he remembered her, but he pretended he didn’t.

Because he was a dick like that.

“Armie?” Ignoring the others, she trailed a finger up his arm and over his shoulder. “I’m free tonight.”

“Yeah?” Armie looked at Justice. “So is he. You two should hook up.”

Justice straightened. “Gospel truth, ma’am.”

The brunette’s eyes narrowed. “I was talking to you, Armie.”

“And I handed you off. Take it or leave it.”

Vanity slugged him.

Stack coughed.

Justice just looked hopeful.

The brunette asked expectantly, “Will you join us?”

“No!” Justice said quickly. “He won’t.”

Armie looked at the lady’s pout, Vanity’s disapproving expression, Justice’s appalled frown, and he had to laugh. “If you’ll all excuse me?”

Paying no attention to questions, he threw some bills on the bar and took off. Halfway toward the door, Miles called out to him.

Armie kept going.

Two women tried to waylay him, but he pretended not to notice. Once outside, he sucked in the cold evening air, but it did nothing to clear his head. And suddenly, without looking behind him, he knew Cannon was there. “Shit.”

Cannon laughed. “You’re okay to drive?”

Working to clear all emotion from his face, Armie turned to his friend. “Can’t get drunk on nasty lemon water, now can I?”

“Is that what you wanted to do? Get drunk?”

No, he wanted to drag Merissa to bed and keep her there until his blood no longer burned and lurid thoughts of her cleared out of his brain. He popped his neck, shook his head and said, “I don’t know.”

“It’s not the fight.” Folding his arms, Cannon leaned back on the outside wall of Rowdy’s bar. “I know you too well to think you’re concerned about Carter.”

“I’ll either win the fight or not. I’m prepared.” Armie shrugged, showing his indifference. He never thought in terms of winning or losing. Just winning. And to that end he did what he needed to do to ensure success.

“Everyone assumes there’s added pressure because you’ll be in the SBC now. But again,” Cannon stated, “I know you better than that.”

“A fight is a fight,” Armie confirmed. “The size of the crowd—”

“Or the size of the paycheck?”

“—doesn’t matter to me.”

“I know.” Cannon lifted a brow. “So you want to tell me what’s eating at you?”

A bad case of desperate lust for your little sister. Not something he’d ever share. Rather than deny the problem, Armie shook his head. “I’ll deal with it.”

“By avoiding sex?”

He jutted his chin. “Who says I am?”

Cannon didn’t blink. “Man, I know you. Better than anyone. You thought I wouldn’t notice when you went cold turkey?”

That so shocked Armie that he took a step back. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. If he tried to blame it on fight preparation, Cannon would just laugh at him again. “I don’t suppose you’d butt out?”

“Sure. If that’s what you really want.” Cannon straightened away from the wall. “But if you want to talk, if you need anything—”

“I know.” Once, a lifetime ago, Cannon had been the only person to back him. Against all odds and ugly accusations, he’d stood with Armie and never, not once, showed a single shadow of doubt. Uncomfortable with the idea of ever again being that needy, Armie flexed his shoulders and said, “Thanks, but it’s fine.”

“I know that.” Cannon squeezed his shoulder. “You just need to start believing it.”

Armie glared at his friend as he went back into the bar. He didn’t need that melodramatic crap heaped on him. Breathing hard, he looked around at the moon-washed blacktop, the frost-covered bus bench, then up at the inky, star-studded sky.

What was Merissa doing right now? Was she with another man—as he’d suggested?

It’s what he wanted, what would be best—for her—but at the same time... Jesus, it tortured him.

After the life he’d led, the background he’d overcome and the physical ability he’d gained, he wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone, except Merissa Colter’s effect on him. That scared him all right. Bone-deep, heart-sucking fear.

He glanced back, and through the big front window of the bar he saw his friends. Merissa’s friends. Only she wasn’t there—because of him.

It was past time he stopped being a coward so instead he’d face the fear. Tomorrow morning, he’d face her.

And somehow he’d make it all right.

* * *

MOST PEOPLE THOUGHT bank managers worked a perfect nine-to-five job. Ha! As Merissa looked from the impatient customers still in line to her harassed tellers and the clock, she knew it’d be another late day. What should have been five minutes more would likely turn into at least half an hour.

The phone rang, and as she went to answer it the front door opened again. Along with a gust of cold air, two male customers stepped in, bundled up in heavy winter coats and stocking hats, with thick knit scarves around their throats.

Right behind them was...Armie.

Unlike the other men, he wore only an open flannel over his thermal shirt. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold, his blond hair disheveled as usual, and he looked so good her heart skipped a beat, then went into double time.

For weeks now she’d been telling herself she was okay—better, in fact—without him. She’d almost convinced herself, too. But one look at him and she was right back to sick-in-love with him all over again.

“Hello? Are you there?”

Realizing she hadn’t said anything after lifting the phone receiver, Merissa pulled her gaze away from Armie and went into professional mode. Or at least she tried to.

The second Armie looked at her, her skin prickled and butterflies took flight in her stomach. She sank back in her padded chair, glad for the support.

The annoyed customer had overdrawn his account and wanted the bank to waive the fees. Merissa only listened with half an ear and finally, unable to concentrate anyway, she agreed and transferred the call over to one of her tellers.

Since it was now time to close she needed to lock the door, but that would mean she’d have to go past Armie. She waffled, deciding what to do, but then he took the decision from her and approached.

Jumping to her feet, she met him at the door to her office. As casually as she could, she said, “Hey, Armie.”

His gaze dipped over her. This time, being at work, she wore a button-front sweater, long skirt and flat boots, but his attention sizzled all the same. He flexed a shoulder, shifted. “Could we talk?”

Again? Hadn’t he said enough? For someone who wanted nothing to do with her, he sure liked to chat.

“Armie,” she whispered, feeling conspicuous, because seriously, no one in the bank would overlook him. He had that type of presence: big, badass, capable. And sexy.

So damned sexy.

He continued to watch her in that sharply focused way, his gaze warm and steady, and she caved. “Okay, fine. But I have to lock the front door, and then it’s going to take me some more time before I’m done here.”

“Because you’re closing, I know. No problem.” He released a breath. “I’ll wait.”

As Armie headed to the couch in the corner of the bank, one of the men who’d come in ahead of him strode toward her. Standing at her office door, ready to politely redirect him back to the teller line, Merissa smiled—and he literally pushed his way in.

Incredulous, she took an automatic step away from him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He shut the door. Hat pulled low, the scarf hiding most of his face, he withdrew a gun and said with silky menace, “Shh.”

Her mouth went dry—especially when those narrowed eyes coasted over her body.

“But—”

“You and me,” he said, shushing her again, “are going to play in here while my buddy takes care of business out there. And, honey, you better play nice.”

Fear and shock immobilized Merissa as she realized she was in the middle of a robbery—and oh dear God, Armie was on the other side of the door.

* * *

THE SECOND HER office door snapped shut, Armie knew something was wrong. He felt it in his guts. He took one step—and the dude in front of him withdrew a gun.

Son of a bitch.

“Everyone be cool,” the man shouted, stepping back to encompass all the customers and tellers in one sweep of that weapon. “Arms up, tellers. Now! My partner has your manager. Anyone hits a panic button and she’s the first to go.”

Until that last statement, Armie might have let it play out. But at the mention of Merissa being held against her will, dread and rage swirled together in a combustible mix. He went rigid, his heartbeat slowing, his focus narrowing.

“No one overreacts. Tellers, unlock your drawers, and remember, make a wrong move and you lose one of your own.”

White-faced, the tellers did as told.

“Great. Now everyone, get to this side of the room.”

Perfect, Armie thought. It put him closer to Merissa’s office. He went along with the small group, using his body to block the elderly couple in front of him and another woman clutching a five-year-old. The last customer, a college-aged guy, watched the robber with sharp-eyed wariness. Two of the tellers were forty-something women. The other was probably in her twenties.

The robber aimed his gun at the younger guy. “You.”

College boy froze.

“Go collect the money. Empty the drawers of bills and rolled quarters. Make it fast.”

The young man said nothing, just took the bag the robber handed him and jogged to the teller line. As he filled the bag, Armie saw that he also kept an eye on things, looking up often.

A noise, like someone landing up against the door, sounded in Merissa’s office. Armie’s senses sharpened further, but otherwise he didn’t move.

The idiot robber laughed, as if amused by whatever he thought might be going down in that small office.

The five-year-old started to cry, drawing the robber’s attention. Armie stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the boy. Surprised, the robber looked into his eyes, and whatever he saw there clearly alarmed him.

“Don’t try it,” the robber warned.

Armie held up his hands—but he didn’t look away.

“Give me the damn money,” the thug shouted, and the college guy came back, holding the bag out to him.

“Set it there,” he said, indicating a kiosk filled with deposit and withdrawal slips. “Then get your ass over there with the others.”

“Okay, sure.”

Impressed, Armie watched the young man set the bag down slowly and back away. College boy looked to be nineteen or twenty at the most, but he was smart, taking his time—giving Armie an opportunity to evaluate things.

The gunman looked skittish. Above the scarf, faded blue eyes repeatedly flinched left and right. The hand holding the gun trembled ever so slightly. He kept shifting his feet as if resisting the urge to run.

Rolling a shoulder, Armie loosened up. Should be a piece of cake.

Another thump sounded in the office and Merissa cried out, sending a stab of fear straight through Armie’s heart and stealing what little patience he had left. Taking a step away from the others, Armie regained the robber’s attention. The college kid, pitching in, went in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing?” Panicked, the thug swung the gun left, then right. “Stop moving. Both of you.”

Making sure the idiot focused on him and only him, Armie inched toward him. “Or what?”