Raw

  Him fighting dirty.

  Him fighting Tate.

  Him soiling me.

  Him letting my mother scrape until her hands were weary.

  And I roar and swing out so hard, Tate hits the canvas.

  The next seconds are a blur.

  Time drains away. The countdown stops, and Tate is still getting his bearings.

  My eye’s so swollen it’s all a blur, but I see something shiny fly at me—and focus on the penny landing at my feet.

  The penny I gave Reese when it was all I had. When I had nothing but me.

  I scoop up the penny and lift my eyes to Reese. Tears stream down her cheeks, and I inhale and it hurts to breathe, and it hurts to lift my fist and put the penny to my chest, and when she cries harder, and I can’t breathe anymore, I look away so she doesn’t see the burn in my eyes as the ringmaster grabs my wrist and lifts my arm.

  “Your VICTOR, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! The first rookie ever to win the season championship, to shoot to the top of the fucking stratosphere!”

  And for the first time in my life, I hear the crowd. I hear the crowd. And the crowd is yelling at the top of its lungs:

  “MAVERICK! MAVERICK! MAVERICK!”

  Tate comes to his feet and he looks like shit, and so do I, as he locks his hands behind my neck and bumps his forehead to mine and squeezes the back of my head, grinning until his bloodied dimples pop out. “How do you feel, motherfucker? Is this real enough for you? Huh?”

  And the crowd goes, “REMY! REMY! REMY!”

  The ringmaster stands between us, lifting each of our arms, and fucking crazy Remington Tate is grinning over the top of his head at me.

  The crowd is yelling after him as he leaves the ring for the last time, a legend. Eternal.

  But I can’t move yet.

  For the last few seconds, I stand alone in the ring, bloodied and broken, a winner, the world opening up to me.

  But I’m still clutching Reese’s penny in my fist like the most precious thing I’ve got.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  I’M ALONE IN the back room.

  Hearing the crowd cheer outside.

  Oz is patching me up, trembling with adrenaline, sniffing quietly. I stare at the wall. Processing.

  There’s a knock, and Tate stands at the door. All patched up too. Tape along his temple, his jaw, a lot of swelling spots like my own.

  Oz looks at him, reverently pats his back, and whispers something like, “Best fight I’ve ever seen in my life,” and he steps outside.

  “Hey.” Tate drops on the bench before me. “First time I was up in the ring, I got beat up so hard, I got two ribs broken and my spirit. They both healed though. If it comes to that, yours will too.”

  I hold my jaw tight as I nod. I want to talk, but I have no words for this guy. My father’s greatest enemy, who gave me more attention than my father ever did. My father’s greatest enemy, who believed in me more than my own father ever did.

  More father to me than my own blood. My mentor. My brother.

  “When I started training you,” he says, smirking in pride, “I thought you could be great. Hell, I knew you could be great. I knew you could be better than me. And I was right.” He jerks his chin toward the door. “Ring’s all yours. Own it and never hand it off unless you’re stepping down.”

  “I won’t,” I vow with conviction, my hands fisting instinctively.

  “Good.”

  He puts his fist out, like his son does. “It’s an honor to have fought with you.”

  I don’t know how I can get up. How I can talk. I do both. I meet his gaze with pride and gratitude and admiration and more respect than I’ve ever felt in my life. I press my knuckles to his, just like I do with his son. And say what I mean. I always say what I mean. “The honor was mine.”

  EPILOGUE

  I’M WITH HIM

  Reese

  That was the first of many finals for Maverick “the Avenger” Cage. It’s been two years, hundreds of matches, and they call him the King of the Ring. People cheer when he’s on. The announcers nearly climax when they announce him. “OUR VERY OWN, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! The most fearless rookie to ever take this ring. The KING, the Avenger, Maaaaverick Caaaaaage!”

  He climbs into the ring without glancing at anybody. Then Mav sees me as he disrobes and I look at my phoenix rising and feel so much pride I could burst.

  He bought a house in Seattle, near the Tates. They had a baby girl and called her Iris.

  Maverick still trains with Riptide several times a week. And every night, before we go to bed, we go for a midnight run.

  Because . . . did I mention it yet?

  I’m with him.

  Every time he steps off the ring, I go stand by Oz, and he comes to his corner. To Oz and me.

  I wake up to my mornings with my cheek on his chest and I almost don’t know which limb is mine or which is his, except his is harder and tanner.

  Mornings, Oz is all business, with a shit-ton of water bottles packed for their daily workout. (Oz has a new girlfriend. Her name is Natasha and now everything wonderful is a Natasha.) “If we’re going to be champions again”—he rolls his eyes, as if there’s any doubt—“you’re going to need a coach, a sober one preferably.”

  Maverick always fist-bumps him now. “That’s my man.”

  And Oz grins, sheepish.

  He’s met my parents.

  I’ve met his mother.

  Maverick and I don’t want to be apart. He’s determined. He wants me with him.

  So, I’m with him.

  It’s night now. The city of Seattle is quiet. The soft patter of rain died down a few minutes ago, and I’m all set to run as he finishes tying his shoelaces. He straightens and looks at me.

  He looks . . .

  Like him.

  The guy in the darkness coming to the light.

  The phoenix rising.

  The guy holding my heart.

  My love is like a steel weight, but it’s nothing compared to the weight of that steel gaze locked on my face like there’s no power on earth that will pull those eyes away.

  “Ready, Reese?”

  A helpless smile pulls at my lips. Love and lust and hope for us twists around my heart. “Always ready to try and beat your ass. Somebody has to.”

  He steps forward, frowning as he does, still puzzled by my effect on him. “You decimate me, Reese.”

  I play innocent. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You say it with these.” He touches my eyes, and then he kisses my eyelids. “Hey, I still love you.”

  “And I still love you.”

  He still doesn’t know that he had me at the penny.

  He draws me close now and kisses my neck, and he lifts my head to kiss me on the mouth, and he tastes so right and so hard and so strong, so powerful, my world narrows down to all six-feet-plus inches of my avenger.

  On a shuddering breath, my lips part and my eyes flutter shut as he begins kissing my jaw, my lips again. He sometimes smears my lipstick all over his mouth but I don’t care. He likes devouring me and I let him. Wild, primitive, his mouth ravages mine, like it does in bed every night.

  He tilts my head at the best angle and sometimes he says my lips taste of cherries.

  His father’s gloves are gone. He has a roomful of fighting gear, everything new, everything his. He’s still finding out who he is, but he knows who he isn’t.

  I’m still finding out who I am, and whoever that is, I know that I’m with him.

  He has a portrait of that final match with Remy, of that moment—the moment where Remy embraces him like a proud father—and he has it in the hall to our bedroom.

  He says he never wants to forget what it feels like to fight someone better than him.

  He says he never wants to forget that he’s not Scorpion’s legacy.

  And he’ll never forget that night despite all the others that have followed.

  He’s still fighting.

  And we’re still
in love.

  Heading out of our home, Maverick pulls on his hoodie and we take to the damp street to run on the wet pavement, where the path feels endless, where we have forever awaiting us.

  But we both know nothing is forever, except legends. And except us.

  Dear Readers,

  Thanks so much for going on the REAL series journey with me. Legend is the last of the REAL series books, and although I started writing not knowing which of the men would win the last fight, I wrote as true to the stories as the characters gave me and this is their happily ever after. I couldn’t include (because it isn’t relevant to this story) that Melanie and Greyson are married, and that Pandora and Mackenna enjoy visits from their daughter, Eve, for entire summers. As you know, Brooke is pregnant and we all hope it’s a girl (Iris!). Maverick finally overcame his father’s shadow, and Remy officially has passed the torch. A draw for that last fight was impossible, no matter how much I wished for it. Both men fight to win and Remy put all his heart into his mentorship. He taught Maverick to be better than anything he would ever come upon and Maverick delivered. I am so proud of them and so grateful for all your love for my stories and these characters. Thank you for the support you’ve given us throughout the years.

  I look forward to sharing my new and upcoming, amazing series characters with you this year and I hope you all keep your eyes on your own personal dreams and ambitions. Become, in whatever impassions you, a legend.

  Love,

  Katy

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to . . . my husband, my children, and my parents; you are the light of my life!

  To Stacey Suarez, the best fitness expert and dearest friend I could have ever hoped for, who has been with me with every step of my writing journey.

  To Monica Murphy, for the beta reads, the hours emailing, the laughs, and the friendship.

  To Kelli C., my external “ninja” editor, for helping me prep this baby and beautify my words—you are amazing!

  To Anita S. for the excellent proofread and extra-gentle touch with my manuscript.

  To all the bloggers who have supported me through what is now is my ninth release, I appreciate each and every one of you. Thank you for taking the time to read, review, and promote my releases. Without you it would be incredibly hard for my books to be found.

  To my amazing beta readers, for their early feedback and all the chats and book love. Thank you, Monica, Kim Jones, Kati D, CeCe, Angie, Lisa, and a huge special thank-you with a cherry on top to Mara White and her little boy, who was my inspiration for Racer.

  This book would not be what it is today without my amazing publisher. My huge thanks to everyone at Gallery Books, including my editor, Adam Wilson; my publishers, Jen Bergstrom and Louise Burke; the art department, copy editors, publishing team, and publicists.

  I am equally grateful to all my foreign publishers, who’ve translated The REAL series in nearly a dozen other countries so far. Thank you!

  To everyone at Jane Rotrosen Agency, you are not only amazing people but always manage to make us—your authors—feel like we’re family. Thank you! And special thanks to Amy Tannenbaum, my agent, who is not just my agent but also takes on a million other roles like best-advice-giver, relentless cheerleader, and firm Katy-believer. Without Amy, I might quit when the going gets tough, but thankfully when the going gets tough, Amy gets tougher. So thank you, Amy.

  And most especially, thank you, thank you, thank you to my readers. You are as passionate about my characters as I am, you allow them to make you lose sleep like I do, you think about them in the shower and when you’re driving like I do, and then you go all out and love them like I do. Thank you for all the hours you spend with us. I hope we can continue spending many more.

  About the Author

  Katy Evans is married and lives with her husband and their two children plus three lazy dogs in South Texas. Some of her favorite pastimes are hiking, reading, baking, and spending time with her friends and family. For more information on Katy Evans and her upcoming releases, check her out on the sites below. She loves to hear from her readers.

  Website: www.katyevans.net

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatyEvans

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorkatyevans

  Email: [email protected]

  FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR: authors.simonandschuster.com/Katy-Evans

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  SimonandSchuster.com

  BOOKS BY KATY EVANS

  THE REAL SERIES

  REAL

  MINE

  REMY

  ROGUE

  RIPPED

  LEGEND

  THE MANWHORE SERIES

  MANWHORE

  MANWHORE +1

  MS. MANWHORE

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  Gallery Books

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  New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Katy Evans

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Gallery Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  First Gallery Books trade paperback edition February 2016

  GALLERY BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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  Cover design by Sarah Hansen

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Evans, Katy, author.

  Title: Legend / Katy Evans.

  Description: First Gallery Books trade paperback edition. New York, NY

  Gallery books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc., 20016.

     Series: The Real series ; book 6, “Legends never die.”

  Subjects: LCSH: Hand-to-hand fighting—Fiction. BISAC: FICTION / Romance / Contemporary. FICTION / Contemporary Women. GSAFD: Love stories.

  Classification: LCC PR6105.V3495 L44 2016 (print) LCC PR6105.V3495 (ebook)

   DDC 823/.92—dc23

  LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015042851

  ISBN 978-1-5011-0154-0

  ISBN 978-1-5011-0158-8 (ebook)

 

 

  Katy Evans, Raw

  (Series: Real # 6)

 

 

 

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