Sneak Attack Read online

  “Wait a second. Evie is going to fight Mia? Says who?” A laugh exploded out of my chest. “Does Evie know this? She just started training yesterday.”

  “They’ll be in contact with her. I have no doubt she’ll agree to the fight. They know she’s hungry, and she fits what they’re looking for.”

  “Which is what, exactly?”

  “A beautiful, experienced female fighter who is talented enough to draw in the serious devotees of the sport, as well as the ones who get hard dicks from watching chicks kick ass. They make their money off of both types.” Giovanni shrugged. “Mia and Evie are two of the best.”

  “Evie fought overseas until she got hurt. She’s not up to speed again yet. She’s good,” I acknowledged, “and she’ll get back where she needs to be fairly fast, but she’s not prepared to fight in a week.”

  “I wouldn’t write Evie off. But if she’s not up to speed, it’ll help Mia.” He pulled his keys out of the ignition. “If she wins easily, all the better. Then she can go back to—”

  “Back to what? You know it doesn’t work like that. When you get the buzz from a fight in your blood, it doesn’t go away that easily.”

  “It does if you truly don’t want to fight in the first place.”

  When I didn’t respond, he shook his head. “You know that’s not going to last forever. If she wants to fight and you’re discouraging her, it’s going to be a problem.” He held up a hand as I shifted toward him. “Not my concern. What you do in your relationship is your call. But Mia needs to be prepared to put on a good show. I vouched for her.”

  “You vouched for Mia.” The idea was as patently ridiculous as the rest of this conversation. “To these supposedly dangerous men who are hanging out with you at strip clubs with guns in their waists in between goading women into fights for them to bet on.”

  “That’s not all they’re into. Not by a long shot.”

  He didn’t elaborate. I didn’t expect him to.

  I stared straight ahead, watching as Mia’s old nemesis Vanity and a couple of her girls laughed and shoved each other on their way into the gym. Giovanni had been part of some gossip where Vanity was concerned recently, but just then I couldn’t give a shit who he fought or fucked.

  “One fight is supposed to erase this so-called debt she’s incurred with them,” I said finally, when the heaviness in the truck outweighed the pressure in my head. “She does this, and she’s free and clear. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “I put my rep on the line to ensure it.” His voice was quiet. Too quiet for my liking. As if he’d risked more than just his reputation to guarantee Mia’s safety.

  “Why would you do that?”

  His jaw worked as he pushed a hand through his dense dark hair. “Carly,” he said simply.

  “Carly.” I tipped my head against the headrest and stared at the ceiling of the truck. “She’s not for you.”

  “I know that.” He slammed the side of his hand against the steering wheel. “You think I don’t know that?”

  The banked rage behind his question fed my own and I slammed my fist against the dashboard, pleased to see a spiderweb crack form beneath my hand.

  “You’re going to pay for that,” he said.

  I shrugged. “Worth it.”

  “You have the money.”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  We fell into silence. It wasn’t companionable, but it wasn’t as fraught as it had been until I’d released some of my frustration on his dashboard. “If she doesn’t fight—” I began.

  “You don’t want to test them.”

  Shutting my eyes, I hissed out a breath. No matter what I agreed to or didn’t agree to, Mia was very much her own woman. No one made decisions for her, least of all me. “She may say no.”

  “Then you find the way to make her say yes.”

  11

  Mia

  I went to work that day as if everything was normal. As if I hadn’t cracked in two and glued the seams back together. Or better yet, as if Tray hadn’t fused me back together until the glue set. How long it would hold this time before it gave way again was something I didn’t want to think about.

  Tray tiptoed around me, his worry evident in every line of his face. But he didn’t question if I was okay to go to work. Didn’t question me at all. I was evasive about our plans for that night, wanting to make sure he’d be home for our trip to the fancy hotel I’d booked the night before. I had a surprise, I told him, and he viewed that statement with more trepidation than interest.

  All things considered, I really couldn’t blame him.

  He followed that up with his own announcement that we needed to talk tonight, that it was important. Since I figured it likely related to my needing a double dose of therapy ASAP, I swallowed my usual complaints and nodded.

  I seriously doubted therapy could help patch me up, but I didn’t have many options left.

  Or…none.

  When I got back from my shift at Vinnie’s, I found the apartment empty. Tray had left a note on the fridge.

  At the gym with a client. Back as soon as I can.

  Carly didn’t appear to be around either, but I figured she probably had to work tonight. Or maybe she’d had a date with her salad dude. He might be a nice guy. Either way, I wasn’t going to hassle her about it again. I wanted her to have a social life and besides, a guy from the Salad Hut was definitely the lesser of two evils when compared to Costas.

  Who hadn’t been such a dick last night—or this morning—but still.

  Since I was alone, I decided to take a quick shower and pack a bag for that night’s hotel sojourn. If Tray even wanted to go. He might tell me that now really wasn’t the time for romance. Of course he was right. But I’d booked the damn hotel yesterday before I’d lost my mind.

  Sometimes you couldn’t schedule breakdowns. It sucked, but that was life.

  I debated packing the lone teddy I had buried in the bottom of my underwear drawer, finally deciding to hide it in my bag under the boy shorts and tank I usually wore to bed. We’d see if it was a teddy night. It might just be a stay-fully-dressed-and-watch-TV-on-top-of-the-covers deal. I didn’t really relish paying for a hotel room to do that when we could do it at home for free, but I was trying to go with the flow.

  This night of supposed romance was for Tray anyway. He could set the tone.

  After I’d finished packing, I tried to figure out what to wear. I settled on jeans and a snug red strapless top I borrowed from Carly. Not exactly my usual fare, and I definitely didn’t fill it out the way she did, but it was better than my holey gym T-shirts.

  I carted my bag into the living room and frowned as I saw the note on the coffee table beside what appeared to be some kind of weird ice cream scoop. Why hadn’t Carly left it in the kitchen where it belonged? She wasn’t the tidiest person, but she usually wasn’t that bad.

  The note didn’t clear up my confusion.

  This is a present from Kizzy. I love mine. Have a great night with Fox! Xo

  And then in much smaller type: Call me if you need anything. No matter what time it is.

  I smiled and picked up the I-guess-it’s-not-an-ice-cream-scoop again. What the heck? Almost on accident my thumb bumped a switch on the bottom and the thing buzzed to life with enough force to have me shrieking and dropping it to the carpet.

  Oh God. Now I knew what it was.

  Waving a hand over my flaming cheeks, I bent to pick up the object after ensuring that yes, I was still alone in the apartment, and no, no one had witnessed my abject humiliation. Thank God Carly hadn’t actually been there. If I’d told her to put her ice cream scoop where it belonged, she would’ve laughed until she cried.

  Then again, maybe my mortification was worth her laughing that hard.

  I studied the pale pink cylinder with the sorta-scoop on the end. Okay, it was more like a probe, but I’d thought it was facing down. I wasn’t that stupid.


  All right, just a little.

  Tentatively, I hit the on button again and cycled through the several different speeds before testing them against my inner arm. The scoop part had nubby bumps that whirred pleasantly enough against my skin. I could only imagine how they’d feel other places.

  Not that I was sure I was going to even try it. Or if I did, I seriously doubted tonight would be its maiden voyage. I’m sure Tray knew all about sex toys. He’d dated enough women that it was a virtual certainty. I didn’t really relish him laughing at me as I backed away from the thing like it was a two-headed monster.

  The apartment door flew open and Carly let out a snorting giggle as she saw me holding my new friend. “Am I interrupting?”

  “So not funny.”

  She dropped her bag next to the door and plopped down on the coffee table. “It’s sweet, right?”

  “Are you really giving me sex toys now? Is that where our relationship is at?”

  Sighing, she threw back her head. “So zen Mia’s gone again, huh?”

  “No, she’s still sort of here. I’m just trying to figure out if I’m supposed to be putting my foot down about you and sex toys.”

  “It’s the safest sex you’ll ever have,” she said soberly.

  I couldn’t help cracking up. Oops, bad choice of words. Couldn’t help laughing. “I’m good on that score, but thanks for looking out for me. As for you…”

  “As for me, I’m eighteen, remember?”

  It was my turn to sigh. “Yes. How could I forget?” I tucked the toy under my thigh and shook my head. “When I left you with Patty, you were still reading comic books and telling me boys were gross. It wasn’t all that long ago.”

  “Boys are still gross. But I like sex.” She jerked a shoulder and I laughed again, more out of exasperation than anything else.

  She was a smart, mostly level-headed adult. And I wanted her in my life more than I wanted to exert some kind of ineffective control over her choices.

  That didn’t stop my eyes from narrowing at the full face of makeup she had going. Purple and green eyeshadow, thick eyeliner. Hell, those might even be false eyelashes. Lipstick, blush, gold dust on her ample cleavage. She was done up to the nines and my nude lip gloss and quick coat of mascara seemed even more inadequate in comparison.

  “You going out tonight?” I asked, assuming the obvious.

  “Maybe.” She flushed and glanced down at the ripped knees of her jeans. I knew for a fact she’d bought them that way, unlike mine. “Figured I’d hang out with the girls since you and Fox will be fucking merrily in midtown.”

  Unshockingly, I flushed. But only a little. I was getting better at this sex stuff, at my own turtle speed. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own tonight?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.” I blew out a breath and tugged at my top. Err, her top. “Umm, borrowed this. Hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine. You need a better bra. We so have to go shopping.”

  “Next weekend,” I promised, secretly hoping I’d get hit by a meteorite first.

  But shopping reminded me of that morning’s online search, and the bucket of what-the-fuck it had yielded. “Hey, have you talked to Patty recently?”

  “You mean Aunt Patty?”

  I nodded.

  She regarded me strangely. “What’s up with not calling her Aunt Patty anymore?”

  I shrugged. “No big deal. Have you talked to her?”

  “Not for a week or two. She kept blowing up my phone so I finally called her to get her off my back. She wants to come for a visit.”

  Great. Just what I didn’t need. “Or you could go visit her instead,” I suggested. “You know, if you wanted to get away from the city for a few days.”

  “Why would I want to do that? Besides, she already shut me down on that when I suggested it a while ago. Said they’re getting new carpets or some shit and it’s not the best time. She’d rather come here.”

  I just bet she would, I thought darkly, gripping the sex toy at my side.

  Harder to hide your lavish lifestyle if you get unexpected guests. Much better to travel to them.

  Not that I fully believed what I’d read this morning. How could I? It didn’t seem possible that she could’ve filed a civil suit in my name without me being aware of it, never mind stashing away a few mil without Carly and I being any the wiser. But the article had been from a reputable paper, and when I’d wrapped my mind around it, I’d do more research. Maybe even go see a lawyer.

  First I needed to discuss what I’d found with Tray. It didn’t make up for not telling him about my mystery caller—who had made my day by calling right on schedule this morning, making me wonder if a link with Lorenzo even existed, or if I just happened to be lucky enough to have two people all up in my business at one time—but I figured one revelation at a time was plenty. And the millions seemed a bit more weighty than someone who hadn’t done anything more than call and hang up and text me cryptic shit.

  And maybe slash open the heavy bag in our office at The Cage.

  There was no guarantee those things were connected. Nor did I have any certainty they had anything to do with Lorenzo’s weirdness last night. My past was open knowledge. The connection between Amelia and Mia wasn’t, but it probably wouldn’t be that hard to follow the breadcrumb trail back to my hometown in Georgia if someone was really motivated.

  I just couldn’t figure out why they would be. Who the hell cared that much about me or what I’d lived through? Most days even I wanted to forget it.

  “Did Aunt Patty spend a lot of money while you were living with her?” I asked suddenly, well aware from the puzzled look my sister shot me just how out of left field that question seemed to be. But it wasn’t. Not at all.

  “A lot like what? She bought a ton of bingo shit. And she liked to have her bridge club peeps over for fancy luncheons, but otherwise no. She sat in her room and prayed and talked about how she’d been blessed for doing the Lord’s work.”

  “Oh did she now,” I muttered. The Lord’s work or a thief’s.

  I didn’t even want that money. I was pretty sure I didn’t. It came from a horrible time in my life, and I had simple needs. But if it could pave the way for my sister…

  “You’re brandishing that like a weapon,” Carly said with a giggle, inclining her chin at the toy in my hand. “Maybe we should’ve left the instruction booklet in the box, but we assumed Fox could figure it out even if you couldn’t.”

  “Who can’t figure out a sex toy?” I lifted my nose in the air at Carly’s laughter. “I’m really not sure Kiz is the best influence for you, by the way. Why haven’t you been hanging out with Jenna?” Slater’s little sister was exactly the kind of person I hoped Carly would get tight with, not my crazy ex-trainer and sort of BFF. “She’s a good, stable girl.”

  At the word stable, I nearly shuddered. I didn’t have much room to judge there.

  “Don’t wig. I’m seeing her tonight. You know, last celebration before culinary school starts next week.” Carly wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste, though I knew she wasn’t serious. She’d been chattering excitedly about school for weeks. She didn’t even seem that worried about the debt she’d be incurring anymore, which was a relief. I didn’t want her shouldering those burdens at her age, especially not when it came to something as important as preparing for her future career.

  “Don’t drink too much,” I warned. Telling her not to drink was basically useless, though I tried on a daily basis. But short of hiding her fake I.D. and locking her in the cellar I didn’t have, I had to hope she’d be sensible. “And don’t get in a car with—”

  “Someone who’s been drinking, blah, blah, blah. I got it.” She got up and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Just worry about your orgasms tonight, okay?”

  “Did someone say orgasms?” Tray asked, strolling into the apartment as if he…well, lived there. Because he did.

  “Doesn’
t anyone knock anymore?” I said under my breath as my cheeks heated for the umpteenth time.

  “And miss convos like this? Nope. Not happening.” His grin made me forget all about being embarrassed. Then he leaned down to kiss me and I forgot who I was entirely. “Hey baby,” he said just before our mouths touched.

  “Here we go. Try to keep your pants on ‘til you get to the hotel, okay? Don’t want any more missing jeans situations like this AM.” Smiling, Carly walked backward out of the living room.

  Tray propped a hip on the couch and let his duffel bag fall to the floor. “What hotel?”

  “Way to spoil the surprise, sis.” I sighed and rubbed his thigh. “So, umm, I booked us a hotel room. A classy one,” I added as his eyebrows lifted. “No shady motels, promise.”

  “I wouldn’t mind visiting a shady motel with you.” He waggled his brows.

  “Yeah, me and all the bedbugs. Ick. No thanks.”

  He laughed. “That’s my girl. So—” He broke off, eyes widening. “Umm, whatcha got in your hand, fighter girl?”

  Some part of me startled at hearing him use that nickname again. It had been a long time. Another part warmed, as if he’d rolled out a welcome mat. It was familiar. That was my identity, way down deep at the root. For so long I’d denied that, telling myself fighting was merely a means to an end. But I was beginning to think I’d cut off a very valid form of therapy when I’d walked away from the cage. Facing myself in the octagon had strengthened me, soldered together all the parts that were weak. Since I’d stopped fighting, I’d lost that mental toughness.

  Maybe I’d stopped fighting in more ways than one.

  “Mia?”

  I blinked, realizing he was still fixated on the sex toy I gripped like a club. I had to grin. “Yeah, I’m guessing you’d probably be cool with us bringing this along.”

  “Absolutely. Especially since you’re gripping it like a child with a rattler. Can you give it to me? That’s a girl,” he teased when I pushed it into his stomach.