Tapout

  TAPOUT

  J.C. Valentine

  Tapout

  Wayward Fighters Book Two

  By J.C. Valentine

  All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyrighted material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without the prior permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Tapout by J.C. Valentine

  Copyright © 2014 by J.C. Valentine

  Cover design by J.C. Valentine

  Edited by Rogena Mitchell-Jones Manuscript Services.

  Tapout is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offence to the content, as it is FICTION.

  Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademark status in this work of fiction. The publications and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Acknowledgements

  My sister from another mother, Kim- You are the best! Six months ago, I never could have imagined that I would be friends with an amazing woman as you. It is such a pleasure to have you as my assistant and I am truly blessed to call you my friend.

  Mitzi- A wonderful lady who is also an unexpected friend and gift in my life. I love our talks, and I love your passion for books. You rock!

  Rogena- What can I say? You make my stories shine. Without you, they wouldn’t be what they are. Thank you for continuing to be my go-to gal.

  My amazing street team- I am confident in saying that you’re the best team a girl could ask for. You all pimp so hard! Thank you!

  To all the people that take the time to connect with me. Every message, every comment truly means the world to me. I read every one, so keep ‘em coming!

  To my readers who have been patient with me. I apologize for the cliffy! This project was nothing what I expected it to be going into it. It caught me by surprise, but I hope that I have been successful in giving you the best possible ending… and I promise, no more cliffhangers… if I can help it lol

  I could never forget my darling hubby. You’re my Jami. Sometimes you make me want to throat punch you, but at the end of the day you’re my rock, my one true love. I love you!!

  Tapout

  History brought them together. Circumstances may keep them apart.

  Alyson Blake’s past left her with scars. Scars that she tried to fix the only way she knew how—by helping others. But actions have consequences, and Alyson is about to find out that being naïve is no excuse.

  Fighting is Jamison Weston’s passion. Alyson is his obsession. Despite the past and a few lingering concerns, their relationship is as solid as ever. Until a shocking lie is uncovered, and all of his plans begin to unravel. Now, Jami is rushing to pick up the pieces, but as relationships are put to the test, will he be strong enough to keep it together, or will it all just fall apart?

  ONE

  “Is it over? Can I look yet?” Alyson had her head down and turned to the side with her hands shielding her eyes from what was happening in front of her. How did she keep allowing herself to be talked into this? Oh, yeah. She was in love with the jerk in the ring. Sometimes she thought he used that knowledge to play her, like that morning when she’d tried to claim she had a lot of unfinished work to do at the office. He called her bluff, reminding her that she still had a week left of her vacation. In the shadow of a looming fight, it’d slipped her mind. Now, here she was, front and center, and Jami was kicking ass. Only this time, he had some new tricks up his sleeve. One in particular flipped her squeamish I’m-gonna-be-sick switch, and he was using it now.

  “It’s over, right?” Alyson asked taking the rising roar of the crowd as the celebratory indicator that it was. Cautiously, she began to lower her hands.

  “Not yet!” Liv shrieked as her voice carried easily over the clamor, smashing both hands over Alyson’s eyes. She couldn’t have chosen her timing better. Since Alyson’s hands had been in the process of lowering, she’d ended up jabbing the tips of her fingers into her own eyes, but they were closed. A little physical pain had to be better than witnessing the horrific sight she knew she would have seen if she possessed a little more gumption. “Oh, Jesus. Oh, that’s gotta hurt,” Liv moaned sympathetically.

  Alyson sat up taller, her ears pricking. It was chaos all around her, and she felt the tight knot of worry in her gut begin to shift with natural curiosity. She knew she shouldn’t look. Since she and Jami sealed the deal in the relationship department, she’d been spending a lot of time at the gym, and she had first-hand knowledge of just what he and Don had been working on. Some of the techniques she had seen before, but the new ones? They kicked up the Eww Factor quite a bit. It pushed her limits just watching in the gym where the environment was controlled, and she knew logically that no one was going to get hurt. Put into play in real life, and she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t watch Jami inflict that kind of bodily injury. Otherwise, she really would need that bucket.

  “Tell me what’s happening,” she asked Liv, torn between wanting to hear the details or to cover her ears. She had too good of an imagination sometimes.

  “Are you sure?” Liv questioned warily. She knew her friend well enough to know that just being here was a stretch.

  Hell, no, she wasn’t sure! Sucking her lip between her teeth, Alyson bit down. Then, she said quickly, “Yes, tell me.” Lord Almighty, she knew she was going to regret those words the second they left her mouth, but she couldn’t take them back now.

  The skin between Liv’s hands and hers was growing clammy with sweat, and the air beneath her palms where Alyson’s nose pressed flush up against them was slick with condensation, but Alyson set aside the mild discomfort as she listened to Liv relay what she couldn’t see for herself.

  “Jami has him on his stomach, and he’s on top of him,” Liv began her voice matter of fact, which helped some with keeping Alyson’s own emotions under control. “Jami has the guy’s arm behind his back, and he’s twisting his hand up between his shoulder blades.”

  Alyson cringed knowing what was coming next and praying that the poor guy had enough sense to tap out now, before this got too far. “What’s he doing now?”

  “He just pinning him, I think… No, wait. Jami’s pushing his arm higher, straight up at the ceiling.”

  “Does the guy look like he’s going to give up?” Alyson gritted her teeth, feeling a ribbon of dread twisting its way through her sternum.

  “Not a chance,” Liv reported back, and Alyson felt all hope take flight like a flock of birds heading south for the winter. “God, you should see his face. This guy has balls of steel or something. That’s got to hurt!” The crowd started chanting then. “Judge, Judge, Judge, Judge…” Liv made a squealing noise through her teeth that steadily rose with the cacophony of the other attendees, and Alyson didn’t have to ask what was coming. Liv made sure to fill her in, though.

  “He’s twisting his arm higher. Jami isn’t letting go. The guy’s face… Oh, man, I think he’s going to cry or pass out. Or both. Can an arm go that far back?” And then it happened. The stunned, excited thrill of the masses exploded into a
symphony of shouts that blended together creating a press of noise so loud that Alyson’s eardrums braced themselves before shrinking in and hunkering down.

  “Holy… I’ve never seen an arm at that angle before.”

  Nausea rolled her stomach and Alyson gently pushed Liv’s hands away, letting her own fall into her lap in an exhausted heap. “It’s dislocated,” Alyson said distantly. Don had spent a lot of time teaching Jami how to twist the arm just so, until it popped free of the socket. He did it by twisting the arm behind the guy’s back, bringing him into submission first, and then he kept going. A normal, sane person would have tapped out the second the pressure became too much, but some of these guys were too macho and hard-headed to give in even when they had to know they’d already lost. Then, just as easily and as if he were cranking the bolts off a car with a tire iron, he pressed the arm back until the elbow was flush with the floor.

  “That’s awesome.” As usual, Liv’s response was a-typical. She wasn’t like most girls. She didn’t cringe away from blood and gore. In fact, it seemed to excite her. She also didn’t want kids, didn’t plan to get married, and the only time she wore anything that could be considered girlie was when she was putting on a show for a man. Today, she wasn’t dressed in her slutty-chic clothes as she always had been before when attending past events. Tonight she wore black leggings beneath a long, midnight blue sweater dress that hit just above her knees, and a pair of boots that stopped just below. She was as covered as Alyson had ever seen her, and she wondered if that had anything to do with how she purposefully seemed to be avoiding Spencer at all costs.

  A few nights ago, Alyson got a call from Liv. It was after eight o’clock, and she and Jami had just settled in for the night, but the sound of her friend’s voice made her sit up and take notice. It was strained and a little raspy, as if she had been crying. When she asked Alyson to come hang out and keep her company for a while, she couldn’t say no.

  There were no obvious signs that anything was wrong once she’d shown up at Liv’s condo, but the stack of Jane Austen DVDs and the box of extra-large pizza next to it suggested a different story. These were Liv’s break-up remedies. A quick look around revealed no signs of Spencer having ever been there, and Alyson folded herself into a corner of the couch. No words were needed. Spencer and Liv were over. It was time to move on.

  “Do you think he likes blondes?”

  Alyson glanced at Olivia, realizing she had mentally checked out for a moment there. She rushed to catch up. “Who?”

  Liv rolled her eyes. “Have you been listening at all?” She lifted her arm and pointed at the guy lying on the floor of the ring with medics surrounding him. “Him. Do you think he likes blondes?”

  “You mean Mister Dislocated? Sure.” Alyson shrugged. “Doesn’t every guy like blondes?”

  “Yours doesn’t.” The smile Liv turned on Alyson was wicked with a hint of longing.

  “Not anymore. I beat that out of him a long time ago.” Alyson grinned and, catching Jami’s eye, smiled wider and waved. His smile was full-watt, but she still caught the slight questioning tilt of his head, as if he sensed there was more behind her gesture than pure innocence.

  He would be right.

  “You are bad,” Liv roared, nudging Alyson’s ribs with her knobby elbow.

  Not nearly as bad as she intended to be later. Seeing Jami up there, every muscle in his body swollen and pulled tight beneath sweaty skin that shined exquisitely under the hot lights, the mile-wide smile, absolute happiness and triumph making his eyes burn like hot coals—all of it put Alyson on edge, heightening her awareness to a pinpoint, all of it centered on him. Her lover. Her fighter. Her man.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she told Olivia, nudging her out of her seat. They would meet up with Jami and the rest of the guys in his room as per usual. After he was cleaned up, they were heading out. Spencer promised Jami a party, and Jami promised Alyson he would show her a good time. And Jami never broke his promises.

  They were the first ones in the room. The total peace and quiet they found felt out of place after having been amongst the insanity of the arena, but it was a welcomed one. It was also very short-lived. No sooner had Alyson and Olivia settled onto a short, hard couch pressed against the wall opposite the door, the door flew open, and the men spilled in.

  Jami’s eyes flew straight to Alyson. The smile he wore for her was stunning. It was one that held promises, and Alyson felt her stomach flutter. Her lips curled up, and she lowered her head. Theirs was a quiet romance. Although they showed affection in public, they didn’t maul each other. She found that the anticipation was half the thrill. One look and they said all they needed to say. Right now, Jami’s dark eyes were locked on her. It always caught her off guard how strongly he could affect her with just one look, but he did.

  Don’s gruff command broke their connection. “Head back.” Jami complied. With his face tipped toward the ceiling, Alyson was given a mouth-watering view of the corded muscles lining his thick neck. It was one of her favorite parts of his body, second only to his broad back. She watched closely as Don patched him up, tending first to the split in his eyebrow.

  “You need to bring your guard up more. Any more damage to this and you’re going to have a hell of a scar.”

  “Ladies love scars,” Jami said smoothly, glancing her way. He caught her staring and winked.

  Beside her, Olivia snorted. “The last guy I dated with a scar turned out to be a giant turd.” Her eyes lifted from her cell phone to look pointedly at Spencer. He was standing at Don’s side with arms crossed over his chest and watching attentively.

  “Have you two talked since…?” Alyson let the words die off. Why was she even asking? They’d just broke-up, and as far as she was concerned, it was the best news she ever heard. But she could feel Olivia’s heart break as if it were a physical thing between them and she hated it. She wanted her to be happy. It was about time they both were.

  “Since I shoved my boot up his ass on the way out the door? Hell. No.” Her words were slow and vicious and aimed directly at Spencer. As if he knew they were talking about him, his gaze snapped up, landing directly on Liv. Hell, maybe he’d heard her. Olivia wasn’t exactly trying to be quiet about it.

  For just a second, Alyson thought she glimpsed something soft in them, but whatever it was, it was already gone. Everything about Spencer, from his beat up Chucks to the new ring in his right eyebrow, was hard, cold, and detached. Beside her, Alyson heard Olivia say in a low voice, “Eat. Shit. And. Die.”

  Glancing at her friend, she realized that those words were directed at him, pronounced slowly so he could read the message on her lips. Alyson’s cheeks flamed. “Liv,” she hissed, knocking the toe of her shoe against Olivia’s in reprimand.

  Immediately, Alyson looked to Spencer, assessing the damage. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his stony expression was almost unreadable, but Alyson could see it. Olivia had hurt him, and for some reason, she felt bad for the man. He was a total jerk, and he’d never given her reason to like him, but she still felt bad for the moron.

  “Ready to get out of here?” Alyson blinked to find Jami standing over her, his hand extended out. He helped her from her seat and drew her up against his chest. Alyson soaked in his warmth, allowing it to spread and envelop her like a warm blanket.

  Tipping her head back, she smiled up at him. “Congratulations on winning.” He made it look so easy tonight—almost as if he knew his opponent’s next move before the opponent did—a sure sign that he was settling into his new position among the heavyweights and growing stronger and more confident every day.

  Jami dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Thanks, babe.” His words were heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just thanking her for her praise, but for having the courage to be there for him. He knew how hard it was for her to attend the fights, but she always found a way to suck it up and stick it through to the end. It was mentally and emotionally exhausting for her, but she made it work. Somehow. �
�Now let’s get the hell out of this dump. I need a drink.”

  Don’s warning floated through the open door after them. “Keep it to a minimum. You have practice first thing tomorrow morning. Alyson?” She looked back over her shoulder. “I’m counting on you to keep him level tonight.” She gave him a simple nod and followed everyone out the door.

  TWO

  Jami was wasted. The first thing Spencer did as they hit the hotel room he’d rented for the night was to pour a round of tequila for everyone. The first round was followed by a second, and a third, and before Alyson knew it, her head was swimming in alcohol. She cut herself off as soon as she felt the buzz kick in, but Jami hadn’t stopped there. She wasn’t sure how much he’d had to drink in the last two hours. She’d stopped counting after his third shot of rum, which had followed the tequila, which had been washed down by a couple of beers. The only thing she knew for certain was that the man was beyond drunk. He was plastered.

  Don was going to kill him. Right after he killed her.

  Thank heck Jami was a happy drunk, though. At least she didn’t have to worry about his flying off the handle and hurting someone. Her history made it so that being around alcohol and the people who drank it made her a little more aware of her surroundings, a little more on edge, but alcohol just made Jami a little more laid back, smiley, cuddly, and touchy-feely. It was a side of Jami she had no problem living with. But what she couldn’t live with was him.

  Spencer.

  Spencer was loud—louder than the music blaring through the room. It made her twitchy. She found herself looking over her shoulder, waiting for management to burst through the door any minute and kick them out, but Jami’s words echoed in her head. “Relax, babe. No one is going to bother us, and if they do, I’ll handle it.” The slow smile that crept across his face as he leaned in and gave her a slow, deep kiss turned her insides to mush and wiped her mind clear of worry. If he said she could relax, then she could relax.