Fighting for Love: The TKO Love Series, #2

By Nadirah Foxx

A broken woman. A crushed man. An obstacle to happiness.

After a brutal attack, Kaya Begay wants nothing more than to hide from the world. Retreating from challenges has always been easier for the young casino worker.

Royce Wilson, a trainer for MMA pro Chance Hanlon, doesn't know how to back down. Although Royce is a force to reckon with, he has his own set of wounds.

Before the pair can find happiness they have to deal with an ex-wife who is hell in heels.

Can Kaya and Royce move past their issues and fight for the relationship they both deserve?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Avanturine Press
• Release date: Oct 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9798215077580

Book preview

1

Royce

Fighters’ Mill was a bigger success than any of us imagined. From day one, steady crowds came to check out the facility. It amazed me how many people were willing to give a new gym a chance (no pun intended).

After a year of operation, we signed quite a few quality fighters, including females. The decision ran contrary to Syd French’s constantly delivered opinions. The man didn’t like women fighting. Personally, I didn’t care one way or the other. Who was I to tell someone what they could or couldn’t do?

Our public image remained my concern. My job included ensuring our stellar appearance. The different fight clubs in Albuquerque recognized our name and our brand—manufacturing the best fighters.

Chance Hanlon, the owner and my occasional sparring partner, left recruitment up to me. He never questioned any prospects I presented. Questioning was my wheelhouse, which was why I came to Sandia Village.

I didn’t go to the reservation often. When I did, I visited the restaurants and skipped the gambling. Unless a man was a card shark, he had no need to hang out in a casino.

Shortly after the grand opening, I received a tip about a substantial contender. Doing my due diligence, I attended a few of his wrestling matches before he graduated from high school. The guy showed promise, give or take a few things.

Sadly, the kid hadn’t done anything responsible since leaving school. Rumors abounded regarding run-ins with the law. I planned to address those issues, and a few others, over lunch.

So if I sign on with FM, what’s my cut?

His cut?

Was he serious?

Two weeks before, the guy staggered into Fighters’ Mill. One of the first questions out of his mouth concerned money. Chance’s manager and I sat the kid down and went over the facts. He claimed he understood.

I stared at his blond buzz cut and so much ink that I could barely see skin. Normally, I had no problems with tattoos, but the candidate had some dicey designs—objects and sayings totally in opposition with Fighters’ Mill image. The display made my blood boil.

Breathe, I reminded myself. No need to give myself a coronary at twenty-four.

I also reminded myself that the recruit was just a kid. One day, he might regret some of his choices. I couldn’t fault him for poor judgment.

You do realize amateurs aren’t paid? If he didn’t understand the concept, signing him wouldn’t happen.

He reached for his cola.

Damn! Even his knuckles were inked. One hand read don’t, and the other said quit. Admirable sentiment in the right light, but I suspected his spoke to a darker element.

We dined in one of the restaurants at the casino. Thankfully, the only customers were a few elderly patrons who kept glancing over at my lunch companion.

Naw, dude. That shit ain’t cool. He guzzled half the soda. How’s a man supposed to make rent?

Although the kid might not be the sharpest tack in the box, could I hold lack of intellect against him? If we signed him, we’d be forced to over explain shit. Make sure he didn’t question anything we told him. Did I really want that agony on a daily basis?

Don’t quit your day job, I advised. If you work hard and rack up the wins, you might earn a sponsorship or two. Sponsors like to provide equipment and such.

No one ever claimed an amateur would become rich fighting. The money belonged to the pros. Amateurs were unpaid grunts who were lucky to earn sponsorships. Acquiring travel expenses and equipment were possible for the right fighter. Unfortunately, I didn’t think the kid was right for Fighters’ Mill.

The prospect shrugged. I don’t know, dude. Perhaps the playing field should change.

Was he kidding or playing me?

No way would I jeopardize our organization to appease an arrogant upstart. Fighters’ Mill followed the rules. Always. In all honesty, he stood a better chance of Jesus dropping by the casino on His comeback tour.

I started to state the facts, again, when a stunner came into view. Dark hair and eyes with a smile that lit up the restaurant. She bussed tables and didn’t notice me gawking.

Thank God.

It had been a while since anyone snagged my interest. After Nadia and I divorced, I didn’t want another relationship. Not because my high school sweetheart broke my heart. It was more like being shell-shocked. What man wouldn’t? I gave up a full-ride scholarship and married her for the sake of a baby. I didn’t want to make that mistake again.

The irritating fool sitting across from me followed my gaze. When he saw the girl, he burst out laughing.

Please don’t look this way.

Thankfully, she doesn’t acknowledge the dimwit.

What’s so funny? I asked. The tightness in my jaw started to ache.

Give it up, dude. FM will pay me for fights before you get with Kaya. He poured ketchup over his fries.

He was playing me.

You know her?

Yeah, I had the displeasure. She doesn’t date guys or girls. His filthy fingers, dirt caked under the nails, lifted a fry and stuffed it into his mouth.

My stomach turned. I also lost my interest in signing the guy.

Kaya moved easily from table to table, clearing the trash. Now and then she turned up her nose at whatever a customer left on their plate. After watching the recruit eat, I understood her disgust.

A girl that gorgeous should be a server, not picking up after people.

Maybe she hasn’t met the right guy, I speculated. For all I knew, the girl was spoken for. She might be a single mom with a couple of little ones at home.

Right. The idiot sucked his teeth and said, The girl’s tough as a damn rock. Stubborn as a fucking hound too. He bit down into his burger. Juices dribbled down his chin. What a pig! He didn’t bother to wipe the mayo trail from his mouth. Truth be told, the bitch is crazy.

I slammed my hand on the table and then barked, Show some damn respect. Patrons glanced over at us. Lowering my voice, I asked, Don’t you have sisters?

Yeah, but—

No buts. I stabbed a finger in his direction. Would you want some asshole talking about one of them like that?

Naw. I’d beat the shit out of someone if...

I stopped listening.

I had to.

My opinion rapidly changed about the recruit. He confirmed every doubt I had about him. The slovenly appearance, disillusionment, and disrespect were things we didn’t need on our team. Plus, my gut told me the guy attempted to make a fool out of me.

Fighters’ Mill had a solid reputation. Anyone who signed with us had to adhere to certain policies. If a candidate liked to party and cause havoc, we didn’t bother entertaining a second look. The last thing the organization needed was some knucklehead coming in and upending our success. The kid would be a hard no from me.

Kaya dropped her plastic container of dirty dishes on the table beside us. I glanced over. Her smile quickly vanished.

A little discouraging, but a friendly word might put it back where it belonged. How are you today, gorgeous?

Not interested, she shot back with a lot of attitude and quickly wiped down the table.

The former recruit grinned. Told you.

Asshole.

The girl stood right beside our table.

Before I said or did something I regretted, I pushed to my feet and reached for my wallet. Not waiting for the bill, I dropped some money on the table. I had to walk away from the guy. His level of stupidity might be contagious.

The guy eyed the cash and then glanced up at me. So, when will I hear back from you?

Never, I wanted to say.

Fortunate for the kid, the choice didn’t rest with me. Chance didn’t believe in dissing anyone. All recruits got a formal letter—rejections and approvals. Ximena handled all the correspondence and made sure everyone received a response.

Forcing a smile, I said, We’ll be in touch. I’m consulting with our team later today.

You do that, said the guy. I can’t wait to start making FM some money.

Kid still didn’t figure it out.

When I turned to say goodbye to Kaya, she was gone.

§

Back at the gym, I sat in the office with Chance and Syd. It had been a long minute since our last meeting. Usually, I met with just Syd or had to chase down the boss. Chance preferred spending his free time with his family when not on the road.

When Fighters’ Mill first opened, Chance was always in the office. Eventually, we made enough money to employ a full staff, freeing up time for him. The man had two ten-year-old sons, a year-old daughter, and another kid on the way. Too many mouths to feed for my tastes, but he loved them all.

Chance ran a hand through his hair and stared at the open file. Five possibilities existed in the latest batch of applications. We passed on two, accepted two, and had to discuss the fool I spoke with earlier.

What about this last prospect, Royce? Chance looked over at me. His brow furrowed, and he scratched his temple. You met with him earlier?

Yeah. I shook my head vehemently. Cross him off. He’s seriously disrespectful.

Syd stroked his salt-and-pepper beard and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, I have to hear this. What’s her name?"

Okay. I deserved that.

I established my reputation with those men. They knew I had very little tolerance for any man who disrespected a woman. My ex-wife and I had our issues, but I always revered her. Nadia received the royal treatment from me. Our child was like glue, holding us together. Losing our daughter made the adhesion dissolve.

He’s not the right fit for us. My gaze went to Syd. Don’t you remember meeting the kid? Tons of tattoos. He couldn’t seem to understand that amateurs aren’t paid.

The manager bobbed his head. Yeah. I didn’t like him. Too damn dirty and rank for me.

Chance chuckled. Hey, nobody smells great after training.

I guess he worked out before lunch today too, I said.

Sitting down with us was like interviewing for a job. We expected prospects to put forth their best effort. Coming at us half-assed guaranteed a rejection.

So what swayed your decision? Syd asked. You wouldn’t have bothered with lunch if you weren’t sold earlier.

He was disrespectful to a female employee at the restaurant.

Okay. That was a bit of a stretch. He didn’t actually say anything directly to Kaya. Thing was, she could have heard. Perhaps that was why she hurried out of there.

All right. The last candidate is a pass, Chance said and closed the folder. I’ll give this to Ximena tonight.

Syd stood. How’s she doing these days?

After a rough first pregnancy, I thought Ximena wouldn’t put herself through the agony again.

Chance smiled. She’s doing better than the last time. CJ and Tommy have a routine now. Plus, Mama Eleana helps out a lot.

I’m glad. Syd walked over to the open door. We have a month off before prepping for your next fight. After the new trainees sign their contracts, we’ll move them into the El Domingo facility. He stopped with his hand on the knob. Set up a schedule, Royce. We’ll go over it when I return from Vegas.

I asked, How long will you be gone?

Just for the weekend. Have fun, fellas. He walked out and closed the door behind him.

Chance asked, Do you have any plans?

Not... Then I remembered Kaya. I could swing by the casino and see if she was around. I’m headed to Sandia Village. Want to come?

My boss and friend grinned. How pretty is she?

Very. Dark hair and eyes plus a beautiful smile.

Where did you see her?

The Council Room.

Chance reached for his phone. Let me call Ximena. We’ll have a quick beer.

§

It took us a little less than twenty minutes to reach the casino. The entire ride Chance spent on the phone with his wife.

I understood why. They’d been through a hell of a lot—betrayal, a major car accident, and separation. Their reunion was touch and go for a minute, but Ximena eventually accepted the ready-made family and the man with a big heart.

Before exiting the interstate, Chance hung up. Sorry about that, man. Ximena gets a little antsy if I don’t check in.

No problem. If hanging out with me is an issue—

No, no, no. It’s fine. He turned on Rainbow Road. She’s doing a girls’ night thing with her sisters-in-law. Mama Eleana is on babysitting duty.

Well, thanks for coming with me. I kind of wanted to see if Kaya was around, I admitted.

I thought so. Prowling for a girl is easier if you don’t look too obvious, he said.

Too bad it didn’t work.

§

Chance rambled on, oblivious to the fact I wasn’t listening, as we sat at the bar. My head was on a swivel, constantly looking around for Kaya.

Finally, my friend stopped the bartender and asked, Hey, can you help us out?

The brown-skinned man said, Whatcha need?

Chance jerked his thumb toward me. He’s looking for this girl who works here.

I added, She’s around five-seven or eight. Great figure. Dark hair and eyes. Beautiful smile. She was bussing tables in the restaurant around lunchtime.

The bartender smiled. Sounds like Kaya Begay.

Is she around? I asked.

She might be working the casino. She picks up shifts there a lot. Someone flagged the guy down. Good luck. I gotta work.

After he left, Chance said, I guess you want to go by the casino?

Would you mind?

He grabbed his beer bottle. Come on, man. I want to get home some time tonight.

§

The Sandia Casino was like any other casino. Plenty of slot machines and tables with gamblers. The only thing that stood out was the beauty dealing cards at the blackjack table.

I elbowed my partner in crime in the side. That’s her.

She’s pretty. Go talk to her, man.

I can’t be that obvious. We have to do this right. Play a hand first.

Chance sighed. One hand. You either get the digits and we bounce, or you forget about her.

Okay. I could play one hand...

Three hands later, I was still at the table. Chance left after I told him I could call an Uber.

It was too busy that night to pull Kaya aside for a discussion. Taking my chances, I played one more hand.

Kaya dealt. There were four other players.

I checked my cards. Damn. I busted with twenty-two.

She quirked up an eyebrow when she collected my chips. Not much of a card player.

Not even a question.

No. I don’t play games.

Good to know, she said and continued working.

So much for getting her digits. Something told me I wouldn’t be able to forget the girl though.

Pulling out my phone, I tapped on the Uber app. Unfortunately, the driver wouldn’t arrive for about twenty minutes. I went to the bar for one more drink.

The same bartender ambled over. You find Kaya?

Yeah, but she was too busy to talk.

Tell ya what... He reached behind the bar and grabbed a napkin and a pen. Write down your number. I’ll give it to her.

I took the items from him. What could it hurt? If she didn’t want my number, she could throw it out.

Quickly, I scribbled my contact info. I added a note, I was the customer who lost four hands of Blackjack. You said I wasn’t much of a card player. I told you I didn’t play games. Call me some time.

Here you go, dude. I passed the napkin to the bartender. Thanks.

My name’s Jerome.

I’m Royce. You live around here?

Yeah. Not too far from Old Town.

You work out? He appeared fit, but I didn’t want to assume anything.

On my days off. Lifting weights...running... Sometimes I do a little kickboxing.

I reached into my rear pocket, pulled out a business card for the gym, and handed it to Jerome. I’m the head trainer there. Come check us out when you can. I’ll give you a deal.

He stared at the card. I know where this is. I’ve been meaning to go by and check it out. Thanks.

My phone buzzed with a notification that my driver was close. Thanks again.

As I walked toward the exit, I prayed Kaya didn’t throw out my number.

2

Kaya

Idesperately wanted to forget the long day—and night. Who was the imbecile who thought pairing gamblers and alcohol was a good idea? All night long I had to fend off the advances of two-bit losers.

Hey baby, let me take you away from here.

Darling, you and I should hook up.

The nonsense was part of the routine at the casino. I hated the work, but it was an easy gig. Besides, my entire family had been employed there at some point. My father was still a pit boss, and Ma was his pit clerk. Those coveted positions took them years to earn, moved the family off the reservation, and sent my siblings to college.

Everyone but me.

As the only girl in the family, I should have had a clear path in life. Where my two brothers, Tate and Nik, had dreams of owning their own businesses and such, I was clueless. Well, maybe not exactly clueless. I liked to think of myself as a late bloomer.

I didn’t know what I wanted to do in life. Until I figured things out, I worked at the casino. During the day, I worked in the Council Room restaurant. Usually I waited tables, but on my days off I picked up any available shifts. In the evenings, I worked as a dealer. Contrary to my parents’ belief, I had a goal—leaving Albuquerque.

I lived all my life in the city. Frankly, I wanted a chance to see the rest of the world. Perhaps visit Hollywood and discover what made the town such a big deal. Or I could go to New York and learn if the apple was rotten to the core. Anything had to be better than living in New Mexico—tons of clay, heat, and cacti. Boring with a capital B!

Three in the morning, and my shift was finally over. On the way to the exit, Dad stopped me. My father, a gentle giant who quickly morphed into a fierce warrior when crossed, preferred to wear his long salt-and-pepper hair in a single braid down his back. Although he wore a suit to work, his tribal jewelry sat visible around his neck and wrists.

On your way home?

Finally. I’ve been here all day.

Let me find someone to drive you. His dark eyes scanned the room, searching for an unwilling party to do the deed.

Dad, it’s okay. I drove my car.

That piece of junk?

That piece of junk, the source of Dad’s worrying, was a red ‘69 Pontiac GTO belonging to my brother, Tate. He joined the military and left the neglected car with me. Once I made enough money, I would have the vehicle repaired. In the meantime, I kept a set of tools in the trunk for whenever the engine shut off. Of late, the car spent more time parked in the driveway.

Obviously, my face telegraphed my thoughts. Dad stared at me for a long moment and frowned. You call me when you arrive or go to the house. Your mother would appreciate the visit.

Sometimes my parents forgot the rest of the world kept normal hours. Dad, I just want to crawl into bed.

Okay, okay. Get home safely.

We hugged, and I continued toward my destination. Before I reached the parking lot, though, Jerome stopped me. He was a brother I dated once or twice. We quickly learned we were better friends than lovers.

Hi, Jerome, I said in my best cheerful voice.

He saw through the farce. Aw, baby, are you tired?

Worn out. You?

Not a bad night. I was busy as fuck, but you know.

My friend used fatigue to gauge productivity. If he had plenty of energy at the end of a shift, he worked harder the next night. When I asked him about it once, he showed me his tip jar.

If this is nearly empty, I slacked off, he explained.

Jerome reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded napkin. Got something for you.

I already have your number, Jerome.

I’m glad you haven’t lost your sense of humor. He handed me the item. A customer came to talk to you tonight, but you were too busy.

I rolled my eyes.

Don’t you dare throw it out. The guy seemed genuine. I overheard him talking to his friend.

Let me guess. He’s a saint, I said with a hint of sarcasm.

He could be. Want me to walk you out?

I’m good. I headed for the door. Over my shoulder, I called out, Have a great night, Jerome.

It was frigid outside. I blew smoke from my mouth as I ran toward my vehicle. Thankfully, my precious baby cranked right up and purred as I pulled out of the parking lot.

Technically, I lived about ten minutes away. But luck and I had never been friends. Halfway to my destination, the engine light came on.

I rubbed the steering wheel and gave the car a little sweet talk. You can do it, baby. Just a little farther. I’ll take you to the shop in the morning.

The vehicle went one more mile before the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree. As the car rolled to a stop, I was tempted to walk the rest of the way. Rather than putting myself at risk, I called Dad.

At home already?

Almost. My car stalled. I think the engine died.

Kaya, we’ve talked about this. Tomorrow, we buy you a reliable vehicle.

Yes, Dad. I sighed. Can you pick me up?

I’ll call your mother. She can be there in about fifteen minutes. Sit tight.

I disconnected, placed my phone back in my purse, and pulled my hoodie over my head.

A blaring horn woke me up. When did I fall asleep?

Thinking the driver was Mom, I jumped out of the car. The headlights blinded me, and I held up my palm, trying to look past the glare. When I reached the rear bumper, I realized the car didn’t belong to her.

I turned to head back and smacked into a large body. A hand grasped my bicep.

Where do you think you’re going?

As a teen, my brothers taught me how to fight. Tate always said, If you’re ever in a tight spot, kick and punch.

With my brother’s words in my head, I kicked hard. The stranger let go, and I prepared to run. My mistake. Someone grabbed my hair from behind.

Intense pain coursed through my scalp. My feet flew up, and my back slammed into the ground. The impact vibrated through me.

Don’t hurt me, I said.

The man I kicked hovered over me. Too late for that. We only wanted a little party. Just the three of us.

The last words before everything went dark.

§

I awakened to flashing red and blue lights, but I was on the flat of my back. My mom stood on one side of me. Strangers in blue were on the other one.

Someone shone a light in my eyes. Miss, can you follow the light?

Everything hurt, even moving my eyes. I tried to speak, but my lips felt swollen.

Kaya, it’s going to be all right. These men will take you to the hospital.

Hospital?

What h-happened? I managed.

Mom said, You were attacked.

§

The next morning the puzzle pieces came together. With a little help from the cops, I learned while I waited for Mom two men found me in my stranded car. Because I fell asleep, I wrongfully thought the car that pulled up belonged to my mother. She found me, beaten and bleeding, on the side of the road where the assholes left me.

According to the doctor, I had a myriad of broken bones—two ribs, my jaw, and my left leg. My shoulder was dislocated. I had surgery to repair some internal bleeding too.

As I listened to the reports, two things became clear. One, leaving the casino alone so late at night was a bad idea. The police said there had been a rash of assaults against women in the area. Two, parting with my beloved car was necessary. Dad wanted to park it at the house. He said he’d take care of the restoration bill. In the meantime, he would purchase me a safe and reliable Prius.

Did anything positive come out of the attack?

Well, thanks to my forced liquid diet, I would be dropping some much-needed weight. Seriously, I was thankful the bastards didn’t rape me. The officer said some victims had been violated. I counted myself lucky.

A week later, the hospital discharged me, but I was in no shape to go back to work or live alone. So I moved back into my childhood room. The pink nightmare still had all my little doodads on the shelves. Despite my battered appearance and that dreadful space, my mother thought I wanted to entertain visitors. How embarrassing to have Jerome in that room!

He pulled my desk chair over to the bed. So you were a girly girl?

Hell, no! I pointed to the pictures of me in my softball uniform. Mom wanted me to be a ballerina.

Jerome laughed. I can’t picture you in a tutu.

Trust me, you don’t want to see that.

He quickly sobered. Any leads on finding the assholes who did this to you?