Fighter's Heart

Scene 24

Jase

Holy fuck. The guy I'm about to battle for the championship belt is Lena's ex? In what universe does that make sense? And why didn't she tell me?

She said he'd been involved in MMA, but there's a difference between "involved" and "my biggest rival." The guy is a Grade A douche. All fighters talk a lot of shit, but most don't mean it. He does, one hundred percent. Karson has a mean streak. Likes to make people bleed and give them the kind of injuries they can't walk away from. I may be a nasty fucker to face off against, but I don't aim to ruin people's careers. I just give the audience what they want so I get paid.

Lena is bundled up beside me in the back seat of the taxi. The driver is taking us to my place because it's closer. She won't look at me, and she's hugging her knees to her chest. Does she think I'm mad? Because I'm not. Just confused.

"Lena."

She nods, but doesn't glance my way.

"You used to date Karson?"

She nods again, then clears her throat. "Yeah."

An answer. That's something. "Was it serious?"

She continues to stare forward. We're not far from my house now, and I'm eager to get her somewhere she feels more comfortable.

"We were together for about three months."

I lay my hand over hers, dying for a peek of her pretty eyes so I can see what's going on in her head, but I can't, so I ask what I really want to know. "What happened?"

Finally, her eyes meet mine, and the misery in them hits me like a knee to the kidneys. "I ended it with him because he..." Pressing her lips together, she seems to shore up her courage. I hate seeing her like this when she's usually so sassy and full of life. "He hit me, and I wasn't okay with that."

Fuck. No.

My temper flares, and my blood pressure skyrockets. I can't see anything but Lena. The edges of my vision are fogged with red.

I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill the bastard, and I won't regret it for a second.

"He's a dead man." Adrenaline rushes to my muscles and I want nothing more than to punch or kick something. To take someone down. But I can't. Not here. And that kind of reaction isn't what Lena needs, so I struggle to contain it. "I should have planted my fist in his face instead of walking away." Guilt washes over me. My girl needed defending, and I didn't do it.

"No, Jase." She releases her knees and takes my hand, having recovered enough to give me her whole attention. Even better, the fire is back in her eyes, along with a dose of blood lust. "I'm glad you didn't. I've worked hard to get you out of trouble. But"—she moistens her lips with her tongue—"I want you to crush him."

That, I can do. I've trained harder for this fight than any other, and after hearing her story, I'm either leaving the cage victorious, or he'll have to knock me the fuck out. Nothing short of that will stop me from kicking his puny ass.

"Consider it done. You want me to break any bones while I'm at it?"

Her lips quirk up. I'm getting through to her. She's not shivering as much as she was, and she's starting to lean into me.

"Maybe his nose," she replies. "The uglier you can make it, the better."

"I'll make him so ugly, he never gets laid again."

She laughs, and I rejoice. Then the taxi pulls up, and I pay the driver and help Lena from the cab.

"How do you feel about hot tubs?" I ask, steering her with a hand on the small of her back. "'Cause I'm seeing one in your future."