Laughing again, the sound sharp, Keno sneered, “So she broke your heart?”
Steve wanted to say, Don’t be an idiot. But any insult that bold would in fact make him the moron, so instead he took the time to explain. “I never loved her. Not even close. But that doesn’t mean she gets to dump me.”
Boyd looked at Keno. “Ah, she dented his pride.”
They enjoyed insulting him. Steve knew that. Maybe they didn’t realize it was true.
Yes, his ego had taken a hit when Merissa Colter walked away. But now was his chance to even the score. Once she let him back into her life, he’d make it hell—and then he’d be the one walking away. “Are you in or not?”
“Sure.” Keno scratched at the whiskers on his chin. “We’ve got nothing better to be doing.”
“Great.” Steve felt his plans falling into place. “As I explained, we need to up the ante.”
Keno shrugged. “You pay, we play.”
“It’s a two-step plan, and for the first step, she might recognize one of you. A woman would be a better setup.”
“I know a woman,” Boyd said. “She’s good. Just tell us what you’re thinking.”
“Once we agree on the pay,” Keno added, his gaze frosty, “we’ll get it done. Once and for all.”
* * *
FRUSTRATION BECAME HIS new best friend. All week, Armie had fought it—and lost.
And no wonder. He’d wanted to set his dad straight, to make sure he understood that when it came to Merissa, he wouldn’t play. She was off-limits, period. But Mac had gone missing and Armie couldn’t find him. He’d looked in all the usual places, including every nasty dive, and so far, nothing.
Worse than that, though, Bray was still gone. How the hell did a kid just disappear? It killed him, wondering if Bray had gotten hurt, taken... How did caring parents keep sane when their kids were out and about in the world?
With that thought, Armie glanced at Cannon. Soon he’d be a dad, a far better dad than Mac, and his son or daughter would be loved unconditionally in ways Bray had never been.
In ways Armie had never known, either.
“Concentrate,” Simon said, always more than ready to keep Armie on task despite anything else going on. “We’re working on timing more than speed.”
Justice groaned and lifted a pad as Armie threw a perfectly timed series followed by a kick. Not hard. They weren’t working on hard and if he got too intense, Justice would bail on him.
Even though Justice was far bigger, Armie liked working out with him. The ape amused him. And he had good instincts. Leese was good, too. But talk about intense. Sometimes it seemed Leese took himself far too seriously.
And truth? It rankled that Leese had that special relationship with Rissy. When things fell apart as they always did, would Rissy go to him?
“Get your head out of your ass,” Simon barked.
Armie narrowed his focus and threw combo after combo.
Justice jokingly complained, but he handled it all.
They heard Cannon call out that he was leaving. Denver was right behind him.
More reasons he preferred Justice—he wasn’t as busy as Cannon, Denver and Stack, and didn’t know him as well as Miles and Brand.
“Better,” Simon said.
Better his ass. He was dead-on and Simon knew it.
“Take a break. Rehydrate.” Simon walked off to talk to Cannon before he left.
“Crisp,” Justice said as he, too, grabbed a water jug.
“What’s that?”
“The way you snap off those punches. Crisp.”
Armie stretched. “A sloppy punch doesn’t get you anywhere.”
“You throw those bitches like bullets.” Justice mimicked him, fast and straight. “Pow. Chaos is out.”
“He might surprise you.” But Armie hoped not. The upcoming fight—well, it was starting to matter. And that sucked. All along, he’d assumed he would win. He knew he’d do his best.
But now it actually mattered. Now he wanted to win, and that was different. Havoc and Simon had worn him down with their freaking confidence and enthusiasm and it made him nuts.
Simon returned and they worked for another twenty minutes or so when a hush fell over the gym. Armie looked up to see a blonde waving at Simon. She wasn’t a frail woman, but Lord have mercy, she was put together nice. Dressed in worn jeans, scuffed boots and a pullover sweater, her features all bold, her manner more so—
Simon thwacked him in the back of the head.
Wincing, Armie asked, “Your wife?”
“Yeah, so put your eyeballs away.”
Armie tried, but it wasn’t easy. He’d heard Simon’s lady was something to see and now he knew it was true. She wasn’t feminine like Vanity, or overly stacked like Cherry. But she had so much energy about her, everyone in the room noticed.
Simon called out to her, saying, “Dakota, come here and let me introduce you.”
She strode in but when she reached the mats, it wasn’t Simon she spoke to, but Armie.
“You’re Armie Jacobson.”
“Guilty.”
“Yeah, I just bet you are.” She grinned and held out a hand.
Since he wore fingerless gloves, he enfolded her hand in both of his. “And you’re Dakota Evans.”
“Love the Evans part.” Tipping her head, she gestured at the mats and asked, “Do you mind?”
Confused, Armie looked to Simon.
Simon sighed, ran a hand over his shaved head, then indicated she should go ahead. At the same time he said to Armie, “She does as she pleases. Just go with it and you might learn something.”
Dakota laughed as she peeled off the lace-up boots, then jumped to the mat in front of Armie. “My hunky husband has been fine-tuning you, I know. But here’s the thing. Chaos isn’t a fine-tuned type of fighter.”
“Thus,” Armie said, “the name Chaos.”
“Right. But I’ve been watching you. You’re chaotic, too, only in a more organized way. You’re...” She turned to Simon. “What’s a good word for it?”
“Slick.”
“Yes! You’re very slick in how you transition from one thing to the next. And that’s what Chaos is counting on—you transitioning. Ready?”
Armie started to say, “For what?” but Dakota kicked out and, automatically, he blocked it. Then had to block another and another.
Simon groaned. “Just do it already.”
Crazy. But whatever. Armie dived in and took her down. Carefully.
She moved, and he countered. She moved, and he countered again.
Armie half laughed. Talk about slick!
’Course, he wasn’t giving it his all. For one thing, she was in street clothes, and for another, she was a woman.
Most of all, she was Simon’s wife.
Wrapping her up in a rear naked choke—without applying much pressure at all—Armie looked to Simon.
“Your point, Dakota?” Simon asked.
She went limp, laughed and peeled herself away from Armie’s loosened arms. “We can transition all day. All day, Armie. So instead, when you get him in a position you like, linger. Just a little. It’ll totally throw off his game.”
Armie was thinking about that as he got to his feet, and damn if she didn’t attack again. Crazy lady.