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“Well fuck,” he says, breathless, tapping out in astonishment. “I give in.”
A wide grin tears across my face as I release him before stepping back and offering my hand. He takes it, and I haul him to his feet as he continues watching me, clearly deep in thought. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
I resist grunting at him. “No shit.”
“What’s your name?” he asks, striding to the edge of the ring and grabbing a towel before wiping his face.
“Xander Phillips.”
“I’m Cole. This is my gym. I own it with three of my friends, Caden, Luke, and Jace,” he explains as he climbs out of the ring and jumps to the ground, our audience diminishing as they return to whatever it was they were doing before my little spectacle. “What’s your story, Xander?”
Pulling my shirt back over my head, I follow him into what must be his office and take in the room. The back wall is lined with photographs of himself in competition with his students, each of them with their hand raised in victory. “I started training in MMA when I was a kid. Eleven, maybe twelve years old. I’ve been on my own since my trainer passed away a few years ago.”
“So what’s with ice hockey then?” he questions, indicating toward the logo across the front of my shirt.
I scoff, taking the seat opposite his desk. “Consider it a requirement of being my father’s son.”
“Right. So I’m assuming he doesn’t know about this then?” he asks, gesturing to the gym around him.
“Nope. He doesn’t need to, and neither does my team,” I tell him. “If I get caught fighting, I’m off the team and lose my shot at signing with the NHL.”
“Well, that explains why I’ve never seen you on the competition rounds,” he muses before narrowing his gaze at me. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t get the impression you’re really interested in signing with the NHL.”
“No, sir. I want to fight,” I tell him, explaining my father and his conditions a little further.
He considers me for a moment. “You’re serious about fighting?”
“I am,” I tell him, letting him see the sincerity in my stare.
“Look, I think you’re good. One of the best I’ve seen come through that door in a while, and with the right training, I think you could go all the way and sign with the pros,” Cole says, but I shake my head, ready to remind him that competing isn’t an option—at least not yet. “So, what the fuck am I supposed to do with you then?”
Hmm, good fucking question.
He studies me for a while, his lips pressing into a firm line before he leans toward me. “What if there were another way?”
My gaze narrows as my back stiffens, listening closely. “What do you mean another way?” I question, knowing damn well what lengths I’d go to in order to fight.
He nods toward his office door, indicating for me to close it, and I reach back, giving it a flick. The door shuts with a thud, and he focuses a heavy stare on me. “Ever heard of the Underground?” he questions, keeping his tone low despite the closed door. “New season starts in a few weeks. I wouldn’t suggest it to my students in any other case, but you have the potential to take it out.”
Leaning back in my seat, I consider his suggestion. Of course I’ve heard of the Underground. Anyone who fights has heard of it. You can earn a shitload of money, but it’s dangerous and not to mention illegal. I’ve considered it before, but my old trainer would have come back from the dead to beat my ass. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
The Underground is an illegal fighting ring where anything can and will go wrong. It’s complete with drugs, alcohol, dirty money, mob bosses, and of course there’s always the risk of death. One nasty punch to the temple, and it’s lights out.
If I fought in the Underground and actually succeeded, I’d be raking it in. It would be dirty money, but it’s all the same to me. That money would be just what I need to get out from under my father’s hold. I could finally break free. I could quit the team and get my own place. I could compete professionally and buy my own gym. But if I get caught before I’m ready, I’ll be left with nothing.
It would be a massive risk. Extremely dangerous and incredibly stupid, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
A grin stretches across my face as I look Cole in the eye. “I’m in.”
Chapter 2
CHARLI
The rain pours down as I rush out the front door in the middle of the night, dragging my suitcase behind me, not bothering to close the door. What does it matter? She’s drunk again, so fucking off her ass she passed out on the couch. With all that alcohol in her system, not even a hurricane could wake her.
