Fighting Dirty

Jamison nodded. “Simon and Havoc told me you were tough to nail down, and that although you’d signed on, you still seemed to be resisting. Throughout my career I’ve worked with a lot of hard cases, guys teetering on a life of crime, trying to clean up their lives.”

“That’s not Armie.”

Again, always, Cannon was quick to defend him. He turned to Cannon now. “I’m guessing he already knows part of it or we wouldn’t be here.”

Jude shrugged. “I got curious. After what Simon and Havoc told me, that you had all the right tools to be a champion but no real desire to make it happen...well, it didn’t sound plausible.”

Armie scoffed. “Believe me, I’ll do what I can to win the fight.” He didn’t know how to fight any other way. “If you’re worried about that—”

“I’m not. The thing is, I want you to want it, too.”

Enthusiasm? Was that what Jude needed to see?

“I watched a few of your fights,” Jude admitted. “I haven’t seen many with your raw talent. So I checked into your background. It was easy enough to find out why you’re hanging back.”

“I’m not.” Jesus. He’d signed on. What more did the SBC want?

“You’re not full-go,” Jude insisted. “Not yet. But we’ll get you there.”

Talking about it always made Armie edgy with suppressed rage. The urge to walk off clawed at him. But damn it, he’d walked away so many times, from so many opportunities.

“The SBC has resources.” Jude gave him a level look. “And I have resources.”

Oh, hell no. Armie didn’t want Jamison using his own funds to defend him.

Jamison held up a hand before Armie could protest. “False accusations are personal to me.”

“And they were false,” Cannon assured him.

Jamison half smiled. “I drew that conclusion all on my own after I found out all the details, including how you, Cannon, helped to back down the accusers.”

“Temporarily,” Cannon clarified. “They said they’d dredge it all back up if Armie didn’t disappear.”

“Let them try. They think money and clout gives them leeway to spread lies. I look forward to proving them wrong.”

“Damn.” Armie had thought that whole episode of his life was completely buried—and would stay that way as long as he kept out of the limelight. “You must have some great contacts to know so much about it.”

“The best money can buy,” Jamison stated. “So what do you say? Will you dive in and give it your all?”

He didn’t relish the idea of reliving that particular hell.

“Until you do,” Cannon told him, “it’ll always be there.”

“True words,” Jamison agreed. “A woman taught me that. Until she came into the picture I was content to ignore the sensationalizing media and the scum-sucking liars. I’ve never regretted the decision to finally fight back, because now she’s my wife.”

The claws of uncertainty retracted a bit. “She never believed the lies?”

“Not even for a second.”

Cannon clasped Armie’s forearm. “You’re better than them. I’ve always known it. Now you need to know it, too.”

“And then you can show the world.”

Armie had come to expect Cannon’s unwavering support. But Jude Jamison’s? That left him perplexed. “Some accusations have a way of hanging with a guy.”

“Like being called a murderer,” Jamison confirmed. “But it’s past time to shake it off.” He held out his hand. “Agreed?”

Armie hesitated, but damn it, he knew Cannon was right. He’d had enough of that particular shadow hanging over him. “All right, Jamison.” He took his hand. “Thank you.”

“Call me Jude. You’re going to be seeing a lot more of me so we might as well be friends.”

Just how involved did Jude plan to be? “You don’t say.”

“I’ve invested in the sport, you know that. Well, Armie, now I’m going to invest in you. And as anyone can tell you, I’m good with money.”

They spent another half an hour talking about his opponent, Carter Fletcher. According to Jude, Carter had the second-best camp and representation in the business. He was quickly making a name for himself and a lot of behind-the-scenes people were saying he’d soon get a shot at the championship belt.

Armie had never been all that interested in a belt. For the longest time his focus had been on working at the rec center and dominating in every smaller-venue fight in the tristate area. He’d had enough trouble adjusting to the idea of throwing himself into the SBC without leaping ahead to thoughts of a title shot.

Jude, however, had other plans. He expected Armie to win, and win big. Sketched within a short time frame, he’d drawn a path for Armie to go straight to the top.

For the very first time, Armie decided he wanted it. And there was something else he wanted. Something he’d craved for too damn long, something he’d denied himself because he hadn’t deserved it.

Merissa. Naked, in his bed.

Merissa—maybe forever.

If he could really have a second chance, if he could win the belt, maybe he could have Merissa, too.

Though the old fear still existed, for once he was ready to ignore it and go after what he wanted instead.

But it wouldn’t be fair to go there without her first knowing everything. And if they were alone at his apartment, he wasn’t sure they’d get around to talking.

As to that, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go into it all tonight. He needed some time to come to grips with the changes, to figure how to explain it to her. If she didn’t trust him, if she didn’t believe in him, it would level him as nothing else could.

One thing at a time, he decided, no matter how it might kill him to wait.

With that decision made he drove toward her house, his intent to put her off at least until tomorrow. Lunch, maybe. Yeah, they could have a conversation over lunch. In a crowded restaurant.

Where he wouldn’t be tempted to strip off her clothes.

Unfortunately, when he pulled up to her house, he saw her ex, Steve, standing on the stoop talking to her.

What the hell? She’d dumped that loser months ago, so why was he here now? Standing so close. Smiling at her. Schmoozing.

Whatever plans Armie had made disappeared like vapor. Steve was a creep, but Rissy might not know that because he’d never told her.

Another idiotic decision—one he could set straight right away.