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  “Okay, I will.” Craddock knew he owed Whitey a part of this success. He had taught him how to focus his strength and rage into his fists, how to turn his particular set of skills into this career.

  “And look up there.” Whitey pointed two new giant banner-sized photos being installed on the wall. Next to fighting legends that Whitey had on display, there was a new G-Man poster, and next to that, one of him. Craddock Flynn. A list of his amateur titles was underneath.

  “When you win Tough to the Top, I’ll get one up there with your belt.”

  “Thanks, GWG all the way.” Craddock and Whitey hugged and they Craddock believed they meant it. He loved Whitey and Jessie, and some of the guys in this place. But, he needed out now; getting away was important.

  Whenever he thought of Zeke, or how he had nearly lost it all over a woman, he wanted to beat his head into a wall. Tough to the Top and Vegas were his second chance. This time no woman, nor the Preacher’s Son's bullshit, was going to get in his way.

  Craddock made his way to his car but not quite fast enough. He had lingered a little too long with Whitey and there she was.

  Cassidy was hopping off the bus at the corner and was walking to her job at the GWG. She looked smaller than even two days ago. His heart caught in his throat. He stood in the parking lot, one hand on his car door; he could not take his eyes off her. Damn her.

  Then she saw him. She turned those gorgeous eyes in his direction and the wind was blowing her hair around. It nearly put him in a trance. He knew what it smelled like, felt like.

  She stopped in her tracks. He wanted to go to her, scoop her up in his arms as he had done a thousand times. Kiss her and make her understand that this was not over that it would never be over.

  Then an image of Cassidy, praying for Zeke, crying for Zeke, slammed him back to reality. She was not his anymore, maybe she never was. Maybe the best thing he could do for her is let her be with someone like Zeke. The thought though made him sick. As he set his jaw and turned away, he felt something bitter rise in his throat.

  He opened his car door and got in. He had decided to hurt her. He had decided maybe she should feel a little of what he had been feeling since the Smack Down in Detroit.

  He risked a glance in his rearview mirror as he drove away. He should not have. There was Zeke, walking her in, opening the door. Cassidy was not looking in Craddock’s direction anymore, but seeing her had ripped his guts out. She was just fine with fucking Zeke Powell.

  He put his eyes forward, toward Vegas.

  Chapter Two

  Cassidy

  “I’m not allowed to drive yet, or spar, or nap.” Zeke Powell, known as The Preacher’s Son in MMA circles, was not happy about his current medical predicament. He was on concussion protocol after the knee to the head Craddock had delivered.

  Cassidy thought he looked good, considering in the hours after the fight, she thought he had been paralyzed.

  “So how long is concussion protocol anyway?”

  “Thirty or so days, unless I show symptoms, or grow a third eye, or something.” Zeke’s easy humor was incredible, seeing as his dream of the 21C professional MMA league was so recently crushed by Craddock’s illegal move.

  “So you can lift weights though?”

  “Yep, no grappling, but just keeping in condition the best I can. I’ll also need a buddy, in case.”

  “In case of what?” Zeke rolled his eyes and slumped on the desk next to her to demonstrate.

  “Oh, I get it. Same reason you can’t drive.” Cassidy said.

  “Yep, spontaneous napping is apparently a bad medical sign.”

  “Do you know who I am?” She was teasing him.

  “A movie star? A ballerina? A tiny supermodel?” She laughed.

  “Yes, all those, and the receptionist here at the Great Wolves Gym, how do I fit it all in?” It felt good just to talk to Zeke after all the drama of the past few days in her life.

  “How indeed?”

  “Okay I better get working if I want to keep this, the only real job on the list.”

  “Want to do lunch?”

  Cassidy opened her drawer and pointed to the brown bag.

  “See you here at our special spot.” Zeke had always popped over when she was eating at her desk. She guessed her desk was their special spot.

  He headed to the locker room and she worried about her friend. Zeke’s career could be over forever if the blow to the head had lingering effects. Damn Craddock, it was his fault, his rage caused this. She was glad Whitey kicked him out of GWG.

  Every time she thought of Craddock, it felt like a fist was squeezing her heart. She finally understood why they called it heartbreak, she physically felt like something was hurting in her chest all the time. She could only hope to distract herself from it. Zeke was trying to help her she knew and so were the other fighters of the Great Wolves Gym.

  When Cassidy scanned the room to see Jessie grappling in the corner, she was glad. It was at least one familiar face. Craddock was gone, but so was G-Man. The heavyweight had one the MoTown Smack Down and was now in the 21st Century Fighting League. It was what they all wanted but only one had actually made it.

  Cassidy was also glad to see Darius Brown lifting weights with Tommy Flannigan. They had all missed a big shot but they were not quitting. It just showed her how tough it was getting to the 21C, as the all called it. These were the toughest guys on the planet in her experience and yet only one, G-Man, had made the cut.

  Of course, Craddock could have if he had kept his temper. She still did not know how it had gone so wrong.

  She had to re-focus, remember, re-commit to her own goals. She was not here to fall in love. She was here to pay the rent while she got her social work degree. It had been so easy to put Craddock first. She would not make that mistake again. Craddock had been a huge, messy, disaster. It was time to Ginny up bitches!

  With that thought, Whitey called them all over.

  “Gym meeting, drop what you’re doing and get over here. I got a few things to tell you all.”

  “First of all you notice the new posters.” They all looked over to see G-Man, now on the wall, shaved head, tats, and general hugeness that was about to intimidate every heavyweight in the sport. She had to admit it was exciting that Gary Gullich was now in the professional ranks. She had watched Craddock best him. It made her realize how good Craddock was.

  The only one Craddock had ever worried about in this gym was Zeke. Zeke was the last of the fighters to join the little circle of guys. They all sat around Whitey for the impromptu gym meeting.

  She worried about Zeke, about how he was really doing despite his joking with her earlier. It had only been a few days since he had been laid out on a stretcher, with a neck brace and the entire Cobo Arena on their knees praying for The Preacher’s Son. Right now, he looked fine, even good. Thank God or The Preacher.

  It was the poster next to G-Man that was just now going up that stopped her cold. Craddock Flynn in color, as high as the ceiling. His inky too long hair, his blue eyes, and his lush eyelashes made her heart hurt. It was the mean jaw line, the blade of a nose and the cut body that marked him as being dangerous.

  She could not help but flash to the nights with him, in his bed, on his kitchen counter, everywhere. Dammit, that was going to be hard to erase from her mind. Now there was a poster? He had been kicked out of the GWG; Jessie had told her so.

  “So you recognize our other cover model,” Whitey said.

  “Yeah, I do. Why’s that asshole up there?” It was Zeke speaking up.

  “Well, first of all if I ever see any of you lose it like Craddock did, you’re out. Which is what I did; I kicked him out. But, the GWG corporate guys and I talked, and he is back, he is affiliated here and that’s the law. Not a debate.” Whitey explained.

  “If he’s training here I’m gone.” Zeke said.

  “He’s not training here, at least not for a few months. Craddock Flynn is going to represent Great Wolves Gym
in this season of Tough to the Top.” Whitey dropped the news as if it was the most amazing thing in the world.

  There were a few whistles and whoops. Cassidy had no idea what Tough to the Top was. She leaned over to a very pungent smelling Tommy Flannigan.

  “What’s Tough to the Top?”

  “It’s a reality show from 21C. Guys live together, train together, act like assholes together and do a tournament. The top two fight against each other; the winner gets a million bucks or something and a 21C deal.”

  “A million dollars?” The amount of money boggled her mind. Cassidy turned her attention back up to Whitey who was spilling more of the details.

  “So because Craddock is on the show Great Wolves is happy as hell, and we’re going to maybe have cameras here sometimes. We’re going to watch, cheer him on, and play nice.” Whitey said.

  “Great.” Zeke Powell left the meeting and headed to the locker room. Cassidy could understand why cheering Craddock on would be low on his list of things to do.

  “Ooh, I’m heading to the salon after this meeting, wait until those cameras check me out. Vegas here I come.” Flannigan joked.

  “We’d be glad if you just showered.” Darius Brown chimed in. The meeting devolved into a discussion on who was the most handsome and who should be on television.

  Cassidy saw Zeke emerge again from the locker room and take a seat by the window. He stared out. She walked over and sat next to him on the ledge.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just trying not to be bitter. Nice guys do finish last as they say.”

  “Hey stop beating yourself up, you’re not that nice.” She pushed him on the shoulder, her joke brought out his All-American smile. If anyone was photogenic and should be on screen of this bunch, it was Zeke.

  He was the physical equal of Craddock. He was all muscle and nearly as tall. Where Craddock was dark, Zeke was light. His ash blonde hair was closely cropped at the sides, but rather tall on top with waves that she would die to have in her hands, truth be told. Zeke’s only tattoo was a cross on his significantly muscled shoulder.

  Zeke did not have Craddock’s edge and maybe, for this line of work, it was his problem.

  “So what’s out that window?” She wanted to get Zeke’s mind off the fact that the dirty fighter who had put him on the injured list was now going to star in this stupid reality show. She had no doubt Craddock and his dangerous sex appeal would be the star. How could he not?

  “Well, I either have to walk home OR call my mom. How great is that? No driving on concussion protocol. Unless?”

  “Unless what Powell, you’re looking like you have a plan.”

  “Would you consider, as a favor, taking my car for two months.”

  “Such a hardship, when people give me cars. I’m so sick of it.” Cassidy had no idea where this was going.

  “So if I loan you my car, you can drive to your Wayne U internship, no bus, and work here and chauffer me until my brain gets the okay to operate heavy machinery.”

  “You’ll also have to give me a plane, some days I’d like to fly. Seriously though I couldn’t borrow your car for two months, are you crazy?”

  “You’d be doing me a favor. I could get to the gym without my mommy. The amount of crap I’d have to take for that, I’d give you two cars and a plane to avoid.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Come on, be a pal. I have a concussion!”

  “Oh, always playing the brain injury card eh.”

  “Let’s see, I’ve arranged to have a gorgeous girl drive me around? This will also get my mom off my back about my love life. I’d say cognitively speaking I’m doing quite well.”

  “What now about love life? I am sure you understand how I’m sick to death of dating MMA fighters.” Unbidden a tear sprung to her eye. She knew he was joking but it came out of nowhere this heartache, and it made her weak.

  “Hey, it’s okay, don’t worry. I’m going to tell my mom you’re in love with me.” Zeke’s eyes had a devilish sparkle which was not appropriate to a boy called The Preacher’s Son and who in fact was the son of a mega church pastor.

  “Why will you be telling your mother that?” Cassidy struggled to return to their light banter, keeping things on the surface was a good defense she decided.

  “Because, Zeke’s single status is a BIG problem at the church. The source of much praying.”

  “So you are going to lie to them instead.”

  “Yep, and really it isn’t a lie, just a jumping of the gun.”

  “Hilarious. Okay, you have a deal other than the lying part.” Cassidy could very well see how helping Zeke with his car would make this semester when she had to work and meetings with her new grant supervisor much easier.

  Things in general, with Zeke around and Craddock gone, were much easier. Other than the massive hole she felt was still bleeding in the middle of her chest. Damn that Craddock Flynn.

  Craddock

  He landed in McCarron Airport and there was film crew there. Craddock guessed that was how it would be. It was unsettling but that was the job. Fine. They want it all. They will get it.

  He had had an unfortunately timed lack of focus for the run up to the Motown Smack Down, and it cost him everything. Now it was time to make up for it. He would make this show his bitch. Craddock fixed a sneer on his face and walked toward the crew in a way that dared them to test his swagger.

  He would be their bad guy, and he would win.

  The crew introduced themselves as he grabbed his bag from baggage claim.

  “I’m Tracy Keller. I’m assigned to the Craddock Unit.”

  “Sounds personal.” Craddock replied. It was all on camera.

  “Funny, this is Brian Wozniak, he’s the photog, and this is Julie Walters, she does everything else.”

  “You make her carry this heavy shit?” He was amazed that the two able bodied men were letting the woman do the heavy lifting. Julie Walters was a tomboy for sure, Levi’s, a t-shirt, and her hair tied up in a ball cap, but Craddock’s mom raised him right. He grabbed his own bag on one shoulder and the light kit bag Julie struggled with in his other hand.

  “You know that’s probably a union violation, it is her job to schlep.” Tracy, warned him.

  “Well I have no idea what schlepping is but I do know unions and you can grieve me. Let’s go.” With that, Craddock took charge of his fate in this show. Tough to the Top was not going to dictate to him. He was going to make it his and use it for his purposes. He would not leave a million fucking dollars up to these people. It was his to take.

  “I like him.” He heard Julie tell Tracy as they all three walked double speed behind him to keep up with his long stride.

  A passenger van took him, and his Craddock Unit along with a fighter named Brice Price and the Brice Unit to Tough House.

  The two fighters sat side by side, the conversation of their meeting recorded of course.

  “Brice Price, eh? Catchy.” Craddock quipped as he stared out the window onto the streets of Las Vegas.

  “Yeah, you gonna pay the Price, and the Price is RIGHT, stuff like that see?” Brice was high energy for a light heavyweight, almost squirrelly in a way you associated with lower weights. Not exactly someone you wanted to bunk with for eight weeks. Price appeared to like the sound of his own voice.

  “I’m from Dayton, we’re the Midwest guys. I know you, DQed at Smack Down. That was a dumb move slick!”

  “Do you have off button?” Craddock growled at him.

  “Hehe, no, I’m full tilt boogie all the time. I’ll tire you out, that’s why I’m dangerous!” Price played to the camera and flexed a bicep.

  “I’m shaking.” Craddock slid down in his seat. Let Price act like a clown for the ride to Tough House. He had plenty to show for the ring and beyond, no need to act like an idiot.

  They arrived at what had to be the fanciest house he had ever seen. Tough House was huge. Of course, it had to be. It would be home to sixteen men, all over 6�
��2”, and two-hundred pounds.

  Brice Price whistled as they walked up.

  “Phew! Swanky, baby. Just think, when I win, I’m going to buy one just like it!”

  “This was all just redone. The lightweights trashed the place last season, crapped in the sink and ripped out the cabinets in a drunken brawl. It made good TV but Meyer Thompson was disgusted.” Tracy gave him the info as they walked in, a little background never hurt. It was good insight; Thompson wanted a wrecking crew in the ring but not some moron who craps in a sink. That is not how you get endorsements. Craddock filed it away.

  Craddock prowled up the stairs and decided to lay claim to a room. There were sixteen guys and four bedrooms. He didn’t give a shit who roomed with him. All he cared about was a good bed next to a bathroom. He laid claim to one next to a window at the end of the hall. The window might also be useful in a house full of fighters. He would either push someone out or air the place out with it.

  Right behind him was Brice Price. Yep, his luck, he knew the motor mouth would follow him in. “Looks like we’re roomies.”

  “If you talk in your sleep I’ll smother you with your pillow.” The camera caught that. Craddock was already getting used to Brian and Tracy, hovering, but somehow not in the way. That could be dangerous, how quickly you could forget they were there. A trumpet of a voice interrupted the thought.

  “Fighters bring it in down here in the great room!” They were being summoned. The show was about to start.

  Each individual production unit receded and two new crews were shooting the gathering of fighters. The room looked like what you would expect a multi-millionaire’s great room would look like. Huge leather couches, a 50-inch plasma television over a huge stone fireplace, and one whole wall of windows that looked out to the outdoor pool and patio area.

  Craddock figured this was probably how Meyer Thompson’s actual house looked. Giant lights for the production banked the room. A few of the crew members were holding large poles with furry mics at the end to catch the sound.