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He reached out for her, swiveled his head, peered around the fight room, and steered her to the alcove leading to the restrooms.
“What are you doing?” She protested but didn’t pull away from him.
“Just listen to me.” He caged her in against the wall. “I wanted to call and tell you I was leaving Vegas, but they took my phone and shipped me down here to fight. It sucks, but I get it. I fucked up, and this is my shit to deal with, but I can’t get you outta my head.”
Mandy’s eyes widened at his blunt admission.
“I think about you all the fuckin’ time.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “When I’m trying to sleep, when I’m training, even when I’m throwing fists in the cage. It don’t make sense, but it’s true.”
“Me too. I tried to push you out of my mind, but—”
“We’re gonna make this work.” He cupped the side of her face. “I’m not gonna be down here forever and—”
“We could meet up somewhere.”
“I got no wheels.”
“Wow, the Serpents don’t fool around.”
“It’s called, ‘paying your dues,’ but maybe you could come here. This is a big place. I got a room over on the other side of the building. There’re always cars coming and going, guys training in the gym, drinking at the bar. No one would even notice you were here.” He leaned in and captured her lips, and when she moaned and deepened the kiss, it shot down his spine and straight to his dick. “I gotta see you again.”
“What the fuck are you doin’?” Cage’s voice growled behind him.
Mamba spun around, blocking Mandy with his bulk. “I told you I had to take a piss.”
“Takes you twenty fuckin’ minutes to take a piss. Razor’s got Samson in his office waiting to talk to you, and you’re out here putting moves on some tail.”
Mamba clenched his jaw, but he let Cage’s words go. If this was to work, they’d have to be discreet, and he’d have to start with self-control—a hard fuckin’ trait he’d never acquired.
Mandy eased around him, and their eyes connected just as Ajax appeared at the end of the hallway. She shot Mamba one more look, then joined her brother, claiming she had to use the restroom. Ajax grabbed her upper arm, threw him a dirty look, and they both disappeared into the fight room.
Cage eyed the interaction, then ordered. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Razor glared at Mamba when he entered the office. Samson pushed off the side of the desk and said to Razor, “Give us a minute.”
Razor and Cage left the office without question, which prompted endless questions in Mamba’s brain. Who the hell was this guy ordering a hard-nosed bastard like Razor to leave his office?
Again, Samson appraised him like he was some show-horse at the track. He jerked his head at his Serpents tat. “I know your VP, Joker.”
That explained fuckin’ nothing.
“Back in the day, when he was with an MC in New York, he fought with a club we sponsored.”
Mamba had heard the condensed version of how Joker ended up in Vegas. He also knew he did some fighting, but his connection to Samson was news to him.
“We?”
“My partner back in New York, and I.” He pulled out a pack of Marlboro’s, then took his time lighting up and blowing the smoke overhead.
Mamba shifted his feet. This was worse than watching paint dry.
“I like the way you handled yourself tonight. You know how to put on a show and not just knock the guy senseless.”
“That’s 'cause cage fighting is as much about the show as it is about the power.”
“The fact you know that makes you valuable.”
