Caged

  sexy lady love. It just can’t interfere with our main reason for being here, which is to make Amery’s life easier. So how about before you commit to anything, we talk to the boss?”

  That snapped Presley out of it. “You’re right.” She flashed Maddox a cheeky grin. “You had me convinced about us having smoking-hot sexy times. Too bad it’s all for show, huh?”

  His eyes cruised over Presley with genuine heat and regret, which had Presley trembling again. “Yeah, roller derby girl, too bad.” Maddox looked at Katie. “So are you playing the part of my one, true, sexy lady love?”

  “That will seriously curtail me getting any tail—and there are fine ones all over the place.” Katie’s playful grin vanished. “Seriously, this is my chance to network and get the latest gossip in the world of MMA. That’d be hard to do if I have to be plastered to your side the next two days and nights, pretending I can’t wait for you to fuck me.”

  “Hmm. It appears your choices are piss off Ronin or piss off Amery,” Molly said dryly.

  Maddox’s gaze zoomed to Presley. “I’ll be in your room an hour before the event so we can get a few personal things squared away.”

  “Cool.”

  As soon as he was out of the room, Katie said, “You’re solid under pressure, Presley. If Maddox had verbally seduced me like that? I would’ve been on my knees.”

  Presley waved her off. “All talk. Action is what counts. But if he can bring the fire, baby, I’ll bring the gasoline.”

  Amery strolled in. “Hey, you’re both here. Great. Let’s get started.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  GLAD-HANDING, smiling, schmoozing—acting all friendly and shit?

  Not Deacon’s scene. At all.

  Maddox had told Deacon he could get away with some of his typical “brooding, mean motherfucker” attitude. Deacon thought the people who expected him to be approachable, nice, and chatty needed to have their fucking heads examined. He was an MMA fighter. He punched people in the face for a living.

  He was not happy he had to suffer through this industry party without Molly by his side. He’d known she’d have work responsibilities, but it looked to him like Molly and Katie were doing all the work while Presley was hanging on to Maddox as arm candy.

  But Presley had nothing on the hot and sexy way Molly looked. The woman killed it in a knee-length, flesh-colored dress. It was modest enough to be professional, but the material clung to show off her feminine shape. A black lace band stretched across the dress’s deep V-neck, masking her abundant breasts. At least he wouldn’t have to punch any perverted fuckers for staring at her great tits.

  By the time he’d returned to the hotel room after training, Molly had been gone. As soon as he’d opened the door to their suite, the sweet, floral scent of her lotion had hit him. Although his body hurt like a bitch and he debated on crawling to the shower, his cock immediately rallied, eager for a workout. It’d been damn near a week since he’d done anything more than kiss his woman. They had serious making up to do.

  Riggins leaned closer and muttered, “I need a drink.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Want me to bring you something from the bar?”

  “Can’t.”

  “Right. You’re a week out from the fight. Bet you’re hungry too.”

  Deacon’s gaze sought out Molly. “You have no idea.”

  Riggins chuckled. “For food, horndog.”

  I’d be just fine feasting on her for hours.

  “You missed the run-through earlier.”

  “Run-through. Like a . . . ?”

  “Dress rehearsal for Ronin’s speech.”

  “Yeah, sorry I missed that.” Not. He sighed. “Fill me in so I’m not up there scratching my balls, clueless about what’s what.”

  Riggins went into a far deeper explanation about who was supposed to stand where and who was taking the mic and why than Deacon needed. When Deacon said as much, Riggins shrugged. “It’s my job to be a detailed-oriented guy.”

  They watched as an agitated Beck approached them.

  “What’s up?”

  “My fucking blood pressure.”

  “Why?”

  “Sensei invited the candidates I’d suggested for new Black Arts instructors to come to the expo. They’re all here.”

  “So? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “I did not expect to be conducting interviews at fucking midnight tonight with zero advance notice,” Beck snapped.

  Whoa. Zen-man had his gi in a knot. “That’s what Ronin asked you to do?”

  “Ronin hinted at that. He didn’t come right out and say that’s what is gonna happen after this shindig. And now Sensei is surrounded, and I sure as hell won’t interrupt his leagues of admirers to get clarification.”

  Deacon crossed his arms over his chest. “I know you were Black Arts’ Shihan before Knox, so you’ve dealt with Ronin’s you-ought-to-be-able-to-read-my-fucking-mind behavior before. Yes, he’s your boss and what he says goes. But call him on his shit, Beck, if you don’t agree with him.”

  “Who’d you arrange to meet tonight before the last-minute interviews were hinted at?” Riggins asked.

  Beck’s gaze moved to Riggins. “An old friend. But that’s not what this is about.”

  “You sure?”

  “No.” Beck ran his hand through his hair again. “Fuck. How’d you know?”

  Riggins shrugged. “There seems to be all-around confusion on what this trip is really about. It’s business. Period. Interpersonal shit shouldn’t take priority. Knox and Shiori, Ronin and Amery, and I are the only ones who understand that.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Beck is pissed for having to back out of a hookup because Sensei needs him to do his job. You are eye-fucking Molly, and I expect to see you two sneaking off to a coat closet as soon as the speeches are done. Maddox is parading around with Presley, a chick half his age, to make his ex–old lady jealous—and I ain’t sure that’s not the only reason we’re here in LA. Jaz is hiding in her room like she’s afraid she’ll run into someone she knows. Then there’s Fee and Gil, who are constantly arguing about something that happened between them five years ago that has nothing to do with her ability to fight.”

  “Wait. You speak Portuguese?” Beck said.

  “Yeah. I also speak Russian. So I know that Max Stanislovsky lending Ivan the company plane had some strings attached. Haven’t you noticed both Ivan and Sergei have been on their phones nonstop? They’ll disappear as soon as this gig is over to do whatever Max asked them to.” He gave a head jerk to Katie. “Hot stuff over there is doing a great PR job, but she’s doing a piss-poor job ignoring Blue, since his whole purpose for being fawned over by female BJJ devotees is to get Katie’s attention. Zach and Jon-Dean are doing a stellar Beavis and Butt-head imitation as a couple of rubes in the big city. Then there’s Fisher and Blaze, who’ve already been suckered by the advances of the hot chicks I suspect are working for TGL to get the inside scoop on the Black Arts MMA program from the weakest links.”

  Deacon and Beck both stared at Riggins with their mouths hanging open.

  “What?”

  “What is exactly right. Dude. In the last six months I’ve barely heard you string two sentences together. And then you rattle off all that like we’re idiots for not seeing it?”

  “Well, you are. It’s really freakin’ obvious.”

  Deacon got in Riggins’s face.

  The man didn’t even blink. Or flinch.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m a simple EMT who enjoys jujitsu and people watching.”

  “Bullshit. Tell me.”

  Riggins’s sharklike smile sent chills up Deacon’s spine. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He pushed off the wall. “Now I really need a damn drink.” And he walked away.

  Beck looked at Riggins’s retreating back. “Ever get the feeling you’ve been completely wrong about someone and it’s about to bite yo
u in the ass?”

  “Yeah. I used to think Ronin was the scariest motherfucker in the dojo. No more.”

  Ronin and Amery were gathering the Black Arts crew.

  Beck said, “Come on. Showtime.”

  The instructors were lined up in the first row on the stage, behind Ronin. The fighters and Katie were in the back row.

  The three hundred people in the room actually quieted down when the head of PR took the podium.

  “Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the International Mixed Martial Arts magazine MMA expo!” Polite applause. “This kickoff party is sponsored by Black and Blue Promotions and Black Arts, based out of Denver, Colorado. Rather than read the impressive list of instructors and fighters associated with Black Arts, I’ll introduce Sensei Ronin Black, eighth-degree jujitsu master, who owns and operates both businesses.” She faced him and bowed. “Hachidan Black, the floor is yours.”

  Thunderous applause echoed throughout the space. “Thank you.” Ronin faced the audience and began to speak.

  The man, for being borderline antisocial, was a compelling speaker. After he hit the high points of his speech, he started introductions, beginning with ABC, the role Blue had in ABC and Black and Blue Promotions, and then ABC’s instructors.

  Next he introduced the Black Arts instructors.

  Deacon watched the growing buzz rippling through the crowd as they heard the impressive credentials of those affiliated with Black Arts.

  Then came time for Ronin to turn the microphone over to Maddox. “Last year Black Arts was able to bolster its fledgling MMA program by hiring the best trainer in the business. Maddox Byerly.”

  Maddox whispered to Ronin and clapped him on the back before he spoke. “It’s been a humbling experience to work with that man day in, day out. Sensei Black lives the philosophy he teaches. He has the highest standards, not only for his instructors and students, but for anyone who is affiliated with Black Arts in any way. As Hachidan Black mentioned, Black Arts had an existing MMA program before he handed me the keys to the training room. I inherited a small but powerful roster of fighters. Let’s start with the ladies. Or should I say lady—the lone female MMA fighter on our roster—who is representing Black Arts tomorrow night at the expo. She is a third-degree black belt in Brazilian jujitsu, she is an instructor at ABC, and her smile is nearly as deadly as her arm bar. I present Sophia ‘Stinger’ Curacao.”

  Wild applause and wolf whistles as Fee stepped forward and waved to the crowd.

  “Our MMA middleweight fighter is a third-degree black belt in jujitsu, an instructor at Black Arts, a Muay Thai devotee, a championship kickboxing contender, and a former wrestler. His professional record, in the past three years, of thirty-eight wins and two losses speaks for itself. Let’s hear it for Deacon ‘Con Man’ McConnell!”

  Equally loud applause rippled through the room.

  Rig and Knox moved aside so Deacon could step forward and wave to the crowd.

  Then Maddox went on to introduce the remaining roster and the training specialists, mentioning Ito—the only instructor who’d opted not to come.

  During the introductions, Deacon scanned the crowd for Molly. He saw Amery in the front row. Presley stood off to the side. But he hadn’t seen Molly since he’d first walked in.

  Where the hell was she?

  “Thank you, everyone, for your attention,” Ronin said. “If you have any questions about Black and Blue Promotions or Black Arts, there are brochures on the tables with contact information. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  Thank fuck he could get out of here now and find his woman.

  A hand landed on his shoulder. “Before you run off, I think I can convince both Smackdown and Bellator to send reps to the Needham fight next week. I’m meeting with them tonight.”

  Deacon scanned the crowd for Molly’s shiny brown hair. “So?”

  Maddox stepped in front of him. “So, show a little enthusiasm.”

  “Why? These guys get a fighter all fired up, thinking their life is about to change. Then the organization ‘forgets’ to send a scout. I’ve seen fighters devastated because some dude in a suit wasn’t ringside. I don’t put my faith in anything besides my ability to fight.”

  “I want this shot for you, Deacon. You deserve this more than any man I’ve ever known. Lots of fighters have the skills to get to the top, but you, my friend, have the heart of a champion.” Maddox walked off, leaving a dumbfounded Deacon staring after him.

  He turned around and two women—a blonde and a brunette—blocked his path. They were too classy to be ring bunnies. Had to be strippers.

  Sounded like someone—likely those TGL bastards—had done their research on him.

  Too bad they’d done it prematurely.

  “Hey, aren’t you Con Man McConnell?” the brunette asked.

  “Yep.”

  The brunette hip checked the blonde. “I told you it was him!”

  “We’re big fans of MMA,” the blonde said.

  “Go to a lot of fights, do you?”

  “All the time.”

  Deacon gave them each a cool once-over. “You ladies ring girls?”

  “What?” the brunette said.

  Bingo. These women didn’t know shit. He locked eyes with the blonde. “‘Pour Some Sugar on Me.’”

  She blinked and then rolled her hips forward. “I’ll do anything you want me to, sugar.”

  “No, that was your stripper song, wasn’t it? Bet you had crystals on your tasseled pasties and your G-string. Bet you dumped water down your body and played with your nipples as you humped the pole on your knees.”

  The brunette turned wide eyes on the blonde. “Misty, he’s seen your act!”

  Deacon laughed. “I’ve seen lots of acts, and I see right through yours, ladies. Word of advice. MMA is one place where you can’t fake it. Real fans, fighters, and promoters will laugh you out of the room. And if you don’t want people to know you’re a former stripper? For fuck’s sake, don’t dress like one.” He stormed off and made it fifteen steps before he saw Molly.

  She leaned against a pillar, her arms folded over her chest.

  He erased the distance between them. He pressed his lips to hers and snaked his arm behind her to pull her close. “Where the hell have you been, babe? Goin’ crazy without you.”

  “Seemed like you were making very important contacts.”

  He buried his face in her neck. “You look stunning tonight. I saw you across the room in this amazing dress, and it fucking killed me that I couldn’t get to you to tell you that until now.”

  “Sweet man. And what were you telling the ring bunnies?”

  “Not ring bunnies. Strippers. I told them to do their research before trying to pass themselves off as MMA enthusiasts.”

  She laughed. “Of course you can differentiate between normal women and strippers.” She twined her arms around his neck. “How did everything go today?”

  “Training was brutal. But standing around pretending I give a damn about any of this stuff was sheer hell. I would’ve rather trained another four hours than deal with this.” Deacon didn’t mention Maddox’s meeting with the fight organizations. No reason to get his hopes up. He planted kisses up her throat. When his lips reached the corner of her mouth, he paused, letting their breath mingle, keeping her on the edge.

  “Kiss me.”

  “It’s not your mouth I wanna kiss right now.”

  She swayed against him. “Let’s go to the room.”

  “I’m playing the ‘get off, get gone’ card.”

  “No,” she breathed.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But that’s not fair. We haven’t had sex for almost a week! We could be fucking all night long in our luxury suite!”