Fight For Me (Bad Boys of the City #2) Read online

  I looked around at all the filled booths and countless people drinking their morning coffee at the counter. Juan, one of the waiters, was bussing a table that just vacated.

  “You shorthanded today?” I asked.

  “Lisa called out sick again. I swear, if I didn’t feel bad for the girl, I would have fired her months ago.”

  “Let me get Joy situated at the counter, and I’ll help out.”

  “No, sweetie, we got this. You and Joy go out and enjoy this beautiful city. Go to the beach or take a walk to the park. You don’t need to be trapped here all day and all night.”

  Frieda was always trying to get me to go out, but other than Frieda and Lou, I had no friends here, and I actually enjoyed working. Waitressing gave me a chance to interact with people over the age of two. Made me feel like I wasn’t just a mom, that I was a nineteen-year-old girl with a job too.

  I loved my daughter more than anything in the world, but sometimes, when it was just the two of us, I got lonely.

  “The beach isn’t going anywhere,” I said, then grabbed my black waist apron from behind the counter and secured the ties behind my back.

  Lou came out with a heaping plate of waffles and ice cream. “Lou, she’s two,” I reminded him, staring down at the ridiculous amount of food. If she ate all that she’d go from a sugar high to a tummy ache.

  He waved his hand at me and placed the plate down in front of Joy, who sat on a stool waiting. Her green eyes widened to twice their size, and her smile was so big it lit up the whole place. Lou handed her a spoon and kissed her forehead before heading back to the kitchen. As he passed me, he said, “Go eat with your daughter. You can’t survive on that garbage.” He pointed to the energy drink I just grabbed.

  “The commercials say otherwise,” I joked.

  “Commercials also claim if you don’t eat a Snickers bar, you’ll turn into Betty White and somehow you’re still standing here. A shame, too. I always wanted to meet that woman.”

  “Come on, Lou. I’m better than Betty White any day.”

  “Damn straight.” He kissed my forehead just as he did Joy’s. It was soft and tender, and reminded me of my father. I might have lost my family when I was eight, but it was okay because I found Frieda and Lou, and they were the next best thing.

  I pushed the unexpected emotion down deep where it belonged and got to work.

  Chapter 2

  Bronx

  Liquid fire burned its way down my throat, and it was the best feeling I had since the last time I was able to afford a shot of tequila. Usually, I got drunk off of three-dollar beers that tasted like shit but did the job. Luckily, I was still getting royalties from a few endorsements I did back when I was a champion. The thought left a bitter taste on my tongue, and I waved the bartender over to give me another shot. Anything to forget about the life I single-handedly destroyed, all because of one fight. One fighter who destroyed my undefeated streak and took all my fucking money.

  My father always said he wouldn’t bet on me for his life, and he was right. I bet all my money on myself, and I lost it all in the matter of a few rounds in the cage.

  Knox “Knockout” McArthur was the bane of my existence. I would love to have a rematch and beat his ass, but the bastard when on hiatus right after getting his title back to pursue acting.

  What kind of pussy fucking move was that? Go from a life in the center of the octagon getting bloodied and sweaty, to a life of craft service and red carpets. Then again, even when he was a fighter, he was all about the spotlight. That’s not a fighter. It’s a goddamned circus act.

  Without the rematch, I had nothing left. No purpose. I was Bronx “the Boss” Boston, undefeated champion, and now, I was a drunk in a bar. I held my shot up in the air as if people who wanted to cheer me on surrounded me. I threw the shot back and chased it with a shitty ass beer.

  A girl came up on my side, her tits practically crawling out the top of her shirt and smacking me in the face. She looked nice and smelled fucking good, too. I turned an eye to her, and she shyly bit her lip. Though I’d bet the little bit in my bank account that she wasn’t shy at all. I could see it in the way her hips swayed, as if she was already imagining herself riding my cock. The way her lips parted as if she wanted me to dip my finger in it.

  “Are you Bronx Boston?” she asked, her eyes all googly like she was meeting a goddamned boy band member.

  “Never heard of him.” I turned back to the bar and guzzled my cheap as shit beer.

  “Well, he’s gorgeous and you look…” She ran her finger down my arm. “Just like him.” She crawled her finger back up, so I grabbed it before she could go any further and threw it off of me.

  “Like I said I never heard of him,” I spat, and the girl’s eyes widened as if I just slapped her across the face.

  “Ew, fuck you,” she tossed at me over her shoulder as she stormed back over to her girlfriends.

  I hadn’t been laid in months, but what was I supposed to do? Bring her back to my car? Because that’s all I had left in this world. Lost my apartment two months ago after three months of missed rent. Never expected to come home after a binger to find all my shit at the curb. What I could fit in my car, I did, and everything else I left at the curb, including all my trophies and medals. I didn’t need them, anyway. They just pissed me off, and it wasn’t who I was anymore.

  Champions didn’t lose titles. Champions didn’t go from undefeated to nothing.

  I finished off my beer and got another one. I ate the bar nuts and pretzels out of the little bowls and soon had a collection of nuts and pretzels on a small square napkin in front of me. It was the closest thing I had to a meal in a couple days now.

  I had no idea how long I sat on that stool. I had no reason to keep track of time anymore. The days came and went, never bringing anything different from the last. It was a pointless existence, but the only other option was death, and no matter how shitty life got, I would never take my own life.

  The survivor that was still in me, somewhere deep inside, would never let it happen. And the other part of me remembered life when it was great, and it hoped that somehow, I’d find greatness again. In the meantime, I drank until I could find it.

  I reached into my pocket for another five, but only came back with a couple singles. I held it up to the bartender. “What can I get with this?” I asked.

  “A glass of water,” he replied.

  “Fuck that. I don’t want water,” I mumbled. “Get me a beer. It’s three dollars, so only give me half. You’ll make a profit!” I exclaimed.

  The guy who was probably my age and had more gel in his hair than a salon, grabbed my empties and my dinner. “I think you had enough,” he said, giving me an eye like he was some tough guy. I might be drunk, but I could knock his fucking teeth in faster than he could blink.

  My lip curled up at the side, and I went to stand, but I lost my balance and tripped over a barstool. I straightened myself out, using the stool to balance me, and swung toward the douche, but a vise grip landed on my wrist.

  Some ogre ripped me off the ground and forced me toward the door. I went to swing at him, but I couldn’t figure out which of the two heads I was seeing belonged to him.

  “Get out of here, you drunk.” The guy tossed my ass out into the night, and I fell into a heap onto the sidewalk. I might have fallen asleep for a little while, I’m not exactly sure, but when I came to, I stood up and stumbled down the sidewalk.

  I parked somewhere around here. I scanned the street, trying to remember where, but all the buildings and streets looked exactly the same.

  The smell of French fries and burgers drifted down the street. My stomach growled with a ferocity that made me feel almost sick. So, I staggered toward a place called Lou’s, hoping I could find something, anything, for the lousy two bucks I had in my pocket.

  Chapter 3

  Kenzie

  It was getting late, and the last of the customers were paying their bills. I sat behind the counter, watching the baby monitor and smiling when Joy rolled over and laughed in her sleep. I wished I was in bed with her, but when she turned eighteen, I’d have plenty of time to sleep. Right now, I had to finish out my shift and make the money to successfully get her to eighteen.

  The bell above the door dinged, and some drunk stumbled in. His pants sagged and his white tank top wasn’t enough to cover his navy-blue boxer briefs. He didn’t wait for me to greet him at the front, instead he found the nearest seat and collapsed into it.

  He used his hand to hold his head up. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed a menu and headed over to him. There was nothing I hated more than a drunk. If he was belligerent, I would toss his ass out into the street where the drunks belonged. Guys like him were the reason Frieda was so skeptical about me working the night shift, but I assured her I could hold my own. And I could, but just in case I couldn’t, Tank was working the grill in the back.

  I thrust the menu at the drunk and held my pad up to my face, even though I didn’t need it. I could take an order from a party of ten and not have to write a single special request down. Lou said it was a special talent. I knew he’d just been trying to make me feel special, and it worked. I considered my steel trap memory as one of my super powers.

  “Would you like a drink? We don’t sell liquor here if that’s what you’re looking for?” I held pen to paper and waited.

  “Water,” he grumbled, so I pushed my pad into my apron pocket and got the pitcher of water.

  I poured him a cup and slid it across to him. “Will you be having food with your water?”

  He blinked up at me, and I caught his eye. I went to look away, when the familiarity of it had me staring longer than what was deemed comfortable.

  His eyes, the color of milk chocolate, an
d his crooked smile flipped a light switch on in my head.

  I knew exactly who he was, and there wasn’t enough dark stubble to cover up the fact that he was Bronx Boston, the guy who was a rising star in the UFC, undefeated and the next big thing… until he fought Knox and lost.

  He looked like shit. This guy, two years ago, was gorgeous and a complete and total badass. He was undefeated and a rising star. He had his entire career ahead of him until Knox knocked him out… Still, one loss couldn’t have destroyed his entire career.

  So why did he look like some washed up drunk has-been? What the fuck happened to him?

  His lip curved up at the corner, and I tore my gaze away from his. “Is there anything I can get for two bucks?” he asked, and it all but broke my heart. I had never met him before, other than seeing his face on TV, but I knew what it was like to have nothing. To beg for your next meal and not know if you’d be able to get it.

  It was only a short time ago when I had stumbled into this very diner and asked an aging waitress what I could get for a dollar. The only difference was, I came from nothing. This guy in front of me was someone. He had been rich and successful in his career, and to see him now, something pulled deep within me.

  “We’re actually having a special right now. End of the night, so we try to get rid of as much as we can, but shh.” I held my finger to my lip as if I was letting him in on a secret. “Don’t tell people that. It kind of ruins the whole marketing concept behind it. But that can buy you a turkey sandwich, a bowl of chicken soup, and the best damn apple pie you have ever had,” I lied, but felt okay in doing so since I knew Frieda would have done the same.

  “I guess it’s my lucky night then.” He handed me back the menu.

  I took it in my grasp, my eyes lingering on his for just a second too long again. I felt myself blush and hurried away before he noticed.

  He might have been a drunk right now, but he was once something really damn special. I had wanted him to beat Knox so badly that night. I wanted Knox to be knocked off the pedestal everyone had put him on. But Knox was a force to be reckoned with, and on top of that, he had years of experience on Bronx.

  I went behind the counter and handed Tank the ticket, then let my eyes drift back to Bronx.

  He slumped down in the chair and pulled the baseball cap he wore further down on his head. I stood there, wondering why he wasn’t fighting anymore. I didn’t mean to keep up with that world, but every now and again, I would check to see just out of curiosity. See if Knox decided to give up acting and get his ass back in the cage.

  Bronx hadn’t fought since his first loss, and as I watched this sad, almost pathetic guy playing with a sugar packet, I couldn’t help but think I could help him. I had no clue about the UFC world, other than the fact that my sister’s boyfriend, was an admired fighter. But Bronx didn’t need to learn how to fight. He already knew how to do that and do that well. He needed someone who believed in him. And, if he got his shit together, it would be the comeback of the century.

  Dollar signs flashed in my mind as I thought about the cut I would take for helping him get to where he needed to be. I loved Frieda and Lou like they were my own parents, but I had been mooching off of them long enough. It was time I started doing something that could help me pay them back. Something that could help me provide my daughter with more than just the basic essentials. It was time I got the life I had always dreamed about and had lost all those years ago when my parents died.

  Bronx and I could make that happen. I just needed to convince him. I plastered on my best smile and brought him over his food.

  He inhaled the sandwich in three bites, and I wondered when the last time was that he had a real meal. If he was going to get back to the fighter he was, he needed to eat, and he sure as hell needed to quit the boozing.

  I slid down into the seat across from him, and he eyed me curiously. “Hungry?” I asked.

  “Guess you can say that.” He spooned the soup into his mouth.

  “I know you,” I said.

  “No, you don’t,” he muttered into his bowl.

  “No, I’m certain I do. You’re Bronx Boston… or at least, you were.”

  His spoon rested on the top of the bowl, and he glanced up at me. There was a vulnerability there that was even more intriguing than the rest of him. “Exactly. That guy doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “But he can,” I countered. “Just need to get yourself back on track.”

  “What’s it to you, anyway?” He leaned back into the red vinyl booth and crossed his arms over his chest. Muscles strained against his shirt, proving he hadn’t lost himself completely.

  “You’re not the only life that Knox McArthur ruined.”

  His head snapped up, and he nodded at me with his chin. “What’d the bastard do to you?”

  It was something I didn’t talk about. Not to Frieda or Lou. I kept my past hidden inside of me. It was behind me, and I learned a long time ago that looking back only caused me to fall. I had to keep moving forward in order to stay standing. But Bronx didn’t seem like the type to trust easily, and it would take all that I had to convince him of the plan forming more and more in my head by the second.

  I picked at invisible lint on my shirt and found the courage to be honest. “Let’s just say he stole the only family I had left in this world.”

  “He seems like a prick. Not surprised. Still, I don’t get what that has to do with me.”

  “Why should he have everything when we have nothing? You should fight him again. Win it all back and show him who the real man is.”

  He laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh at me.

  “Why are you laughing?” I demanded.

  “Because you don’t think I tried that? Because I did. But he hasn’t scheduled any fights because he went into acting, keeping the fucking title and any chance I had at beating his ass.”

  I flung my hair over my shoulder and shrugged. “Clearly, you didn’t try hard enough.”

  “Excuse me, what’s your name?” He held his hand up. “You know what, it doesn’t even matter. I don’t know what you think you’re going to accomplish here, but it’s not going to happen, so go back to waiting your tables and leave me in peace. Please.”

  “It’s Kenzie by the way.” I sat up straighter. “And I’ll go back to waiting my tables, but what exactly are you going to go back to? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you have nothing left.” I stormed away, hoping my words would grate on him. Eat him alive until he had no choice but to hear the rest of my plan.

  All I could do now was wait.

  Chapter 4

  Bronx

  Pain throbbed in my head, pulsating from my forehead down my face. It was like an annoying tap that just wouldn’t stop. The last thing I wanted to do was wake up, but pretty soon people would fill the streets, and I didn’t want to get anyone suspicious. It was bad enough I had to sleep in my car, and there was no reason to draw attention to it. I’d wind up getting robbed in the middle of the night or have cops up my ass to move along.

  I popped an eye open, only to be staring at big green eyes and the sweetest little face I had ever seen.

  “Are you okay, mister?” a little munchkin voice said, and both my eyes flew opened wide.

  “Who the fuck are you?” My head spun, and I tried to grasp reality.

  She dramatically gasped and smacked a hand over her lips. Her little finger flung up and pointed right at me. “You said bad word.”

  I cocked my head, attempting to recall what I said. “I guess I did. Sorry.”

  “Mommy says that bad words are dirty, and you need to wash your mouth out with soap.”

  I pushed up and my back pressed into hard vinyl, and in front of me a table. I was still in the diner and must’ve fallen asleep in the booth. I wiped my mouth and looked around, wondering how much trouble I was in.

  The memories of last night were a little foggy. I remembered stumbling in here after leaving the bar. And I remember the hot waitress that gave me a shit ton of food for only two bucks. After that, everything was a blur.

  The little girl tapped my shoulder. “What’s your name?”