of time before the cracks start showing. If I can get under her skin and show her she made a mistake…”
“It’s harebrained,” came Ren’s reply. “It makes no sense, but if you think…”
“I have to believe,” I said firmly. “If I don’t, then this was all for nothing. I don’t know what else to do to make her see she’s the only one for me.”
Ren whistled, the sound echoing down the phone. “Dean Hayes, the sensitive new age fighter. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“The boy has finally grown up,” I muttered, much to Linc’s amusement.
“When’s the fight?” Ren asked. “If you want, I can get Ash and we can fly up for it.”
“We’re looking at this Friday,” I replied. “You guys don’t have to do that, you know.”
She laughed, and I could picture her shaking her head at me like I was a silly meathead fighter. “I know, but that’s what mates are for.”
“You’re welcome to come, but I’ll have my hands full,” I said after giving it some thought.
“I’ve been through my fair share of heartache, Dean,” she replied. “I understand more than you’ll ever know.”
“Oh, I think I’m beginning to understand, Ren.”
“Then you better win, Hayes.”
“I plan on it.”
Hanging up the call, I tossed my phone onto the bench and moved to join my twin brother, who was getting ready for some good old-fashioned sparring.
“Okay?” he asked, tossing me a pair of gloves.
“It will be,” I replied, pulling them on and flexing my fingers.
“How do you want to do this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Squaring my shoulders, I leveled my gaze with his and assumed the position. “Hit me, bro. Bend the rules and fight dirty for once in your life. If I’m going to beat O’Connell, I’m going to have to know all the dirty tricks in the book back to front.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Fire with fire? That’s how you’re going to play this?”
“Nope. I’m going to be the fucking fire hose that puts that asshole out.”
25
Josie
I knew it was coming.
One of the Twins was challenging Gabe for the middleweight title, but I was betting on Lincoln, not Dean.
Staring at the message I’d just sent accepting the terms of the fight, my stomach began to roll. I’d have to face him and Monica. I’d have to look him in the eye and pretend I wasn’t dying inside.
Gabe leaned over my shoulder and smiled. “Nice work, Cunningham. Make sure it’s official.”
My body began to recoil as I realized how close he’d moved while I was stewing in the juices of my own stupid mistakes. Pulling myself into check, I nodded and reached for my phone.
“When you’re done here, come find me,” he went on, watching my changing expression.
“Sure.” I swallowed hard and turned my attention onto my work.
Registering the fight with the AUFC didn’t take long. Both Twins had fought a great deal in the few years I’d been working with them, so it was in and out with minimal fuss. Being a title fight, the approval went through straight away, and by the end of the day, I was sure we’d see advertisements going out online and through the pay-per-view sports channels. The turnaround was phenomenal.
Out in the gym, I found Gabe on his own for once. He was in the back corner lifting a set of dumbbells, his muscles plump from his workout. My gaze lingered a moment too long as I approached, and his lips curved in amusement.
“You wanted to talk to me?” I asked, standing before him.
“Yeah, have a seat.” He nodded toward the bench press opposite.
Reluctantly, I sat on the end and folded my hands into my lap. I already knew where this was going, and I didn’t want to talk about it. I might have left Sydney on bad terms with Dean, but I wasn’t about to spill all their secrets to their archnemesis. Not even a broken heart could drive me to do something so spiteful. Even stupid bitches like me had their limits.
“Why did you leave the Hayes Twins?” Gabe asked, lifting the dumbbell again. “You were never clear on that.”
“Difference of opinion,” I replied with a noncommittal shrug.
He raised an eyebrow and continued his repetitions. “He was real easy to get to when we fought.” I frowned, and Gabe laughed, shaking his head. “If you weren’t already fucking him then, he sure wanted to.”
“Who said I was fucking him?” I asked, my pride hurting.
“You did.”
“Did not.”
“You didn’t say it, Cunningham,” he said with a