Chapter 10 #2
I navigate to the security panel, enter the access code, and the monitor displays a grid of surveillance feeds from around the café.
I scan each thumbnail methodically until they catch on her figure, hunched at her desk in her office.
With one more click, her image fills my screen.
My heart thunders in my chest. Goddamn, she’s beautiful.
I wish this were in color so I can see the brown in her eyes and the pink of her soft lips.
She needs to upgrade her cameras with color and sound.
Bethany walks in with coffee and a plate of cookies — polvorones, Rainey’s favorite lately.
She licks her lips, and damn, I wish I were there to lick them for her.
I zoom in on her computer and notice the email she’s looking at is for the college she enrolled in.
I can’t make out a lot of the words, but something about making a payment. I click out and make some phone calls.
“Max Cano!” a woman shouts from across the burger place I’m at.
I don’t recognize the voice, but I look anyway.
She sprints toward me, a guy following behind her. “Oh. My. Gosh. It is you.”
This has been happening a lot lately. I don’t like attention, nor do I want to be chatty, but I try since they are fans. Hell, I still can’t believe I have fans, not for the Underground, but for a legit fight. A fight I have been dreaming of.
“Can we have your autograph?” She blushes, handing me a napkin.
“Please,” the guy next to her says. “Sorry, my wife saw you and ran. We didn’t mean to disturb you while you were eating.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m all done.” I came in for a quick bite before heading back to work. I take the pen from my shirt pocket and sign my name.
“Can we have a photo?” she asks.
“Sure,” I answer, standing to my feet.
The woman asks someone to take the photo, and I’m in the middle. Right after, whispers begin around the place. And a line forms.
Fuck.
“Max!” women, men, and kids shout.
I sign and take photos with them. One thing I never do is allow women to touch me or me touch them while taking a photo. Rainey and I might not be physically together, but that doesn’t mean I won’t respect her.
After an hour, I made it back to work to find Leo twirling in his chair. He stops and glances at me. “Finally. What happened? You said you’d be back in less than an hour.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “A shit ton of people asked for my autograph.”
He stands with a lopsided smile. “Dang, bro, that’s awesome. Look at you, Mr. Popular,” he mocks.
I lean on his desk, hands shoved in my pockets.
“I appreciate those who support me and want photos and autographs, but that spotlight stuff—it’s not me.
All I ever wanted was to be in the ring.
But unfortunately, that’s what comes with it.
” What I can’t bring myself to say is how wrong it feels doing any of this without Rainey beside me.
She wasn’t just part of the journey—she was my reason.
“I understand. If I were in your shoes, I would feel the same way. This is also all new to you. It’s going to take some time to get used to.”
“I hope it all fades and they don’t recognize me.”
He laughs. “I highly doubt it.”
“What are you going to do with all that dough you made in this last fight? And well, the next fight you’ll be rolling in it.”
I’ll always keep myself humble, no matter how much money I make. I have been blessed with two careers, and I’m grateful for the position I’m in.
“I was thinking of opening my own gym someday. A thought crossed my mind to offer a program for kids less fortunate.”
Leo nods, his eyes softening. I can see he gets it without me having to explain my whole backstory. This wouldn’t just be for foster kids like I was. Some children have loving families who simply can’t afford sports programs, and they deserve a shot, too.
“That would be a great idea. I like how you think. I’m sure I could help where you need me.”
“Oh, of course, I need you. You’re great with kids. This won’t be until after the fight. I’ll look into it.” Pushing off the desk, I pull my wallet from my back pocket. “Do me a favor. Pick up dinner for my woman tonight and drop it off.”
Leo snorts. “Woman? She’s not yours.”
“The fuck she isn’t. If you see a man getting too close to her, slice his balls.”
His head falls back in a roar of laughter that has me laughing, and damn, it feels good to laugh.
“You know, if this were months ago, I would have called you a grumpy asshole. No, psycho.” He laughs.
“But since Bethany is here for a couple of weeks, I feel like doing that to her boyfriend, who calls her every night so they can blow kisses at one another. Then when she catches me staring, she turns around.”
“You’re probably freaking her out.”
“I’m not. I think she’s into me.”
“She has a man.”
Another roar of laughter comes out of him. “You call that a man?”
“Dang, you do have it bad. Bethany is a hornet with an attitude. She might just sting you in the ass.”
“Oh, I’m loving the fire in her. It makes my dick hard. And I’ll be the one doing the stinging.” He winks, and I walk off to my office with a grin on my face.
Just before opening the door, Leo calls out, “Max, I forgot to tell you Rainey’s been feeling under the weather.
I think she’s coming down with a cold.” He’s been hanging out with her every damn day, and I know this because I hired Johnny again—just last week.
Rainey doesn’t know. I didn’t do it to keep tabs on her.
In fact, Johnny is the one who called me.
He said that with my win, it would be best to keep her safe.
There are a lot of people who want to get to me, but I don’t know who.
It’s always the shit-talkers. And he has been worried that Daniel will come looking for her.
“Maybe I should text her?” Or I can go check on her at work.
“No. It’s best you give her more days to think, and you know, school.”
“Okay. Let me know if she’s not doing better.”
He nods, and I go back to my office.
The metal chair legs scrape against the tile as I collapse into it, my head falling back against the black vinyl backrest. Pulling out my phone—screen already smudged with fingerprints—I scroll through the carefully curated social media accounts my promoter’s assistant created: posed photos of me I barely recognize, captions written in a voice that isn’t mine.
I go back and rewrite some of the captions on the photos. I’m not a fan of social media.
I click on one photo of me sparring at the gym. The comments flood in.
I heard his girlfriend left him. What woman would do that to a man like him?
Oh my, he’s single. I’ll take him. His ex is a bitch.
She’s not even that beautiful. He needs a polished woman. She works at a bakery, is what I heard.
Anger raises my blood pressure. Who in the hell announced the breakup?
Only Carlos, Leo, Xander, and Drake know.
And what’s this about her not being that beautiful?
They must need fucking thick glasses because my girl is stunning.
No, I don’t need a polished woman. I need Rainey, and that’s all I’ll ever need.
I love every form of her. When she’s caked in flour, when she’s fresh out of the shower, when her hair is up in a bun and she’s wearing lounging clothes.
Also when she’s dressed to the nines, and especially when she wakes up.
That one is my favorite. As much as I want to talk shit about them, I close the app.
Entertaining it will only escalate it. Now I’m relieved Johnny is watching her since they know who Rainey is and where she works.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I groan—unknown number. “Hello,” my voice comes out aggressively, still pissed off by the comments.
“Cano.”
I growl at the sound of his voice. “What the fuck do you want, Daniel?”
The pendejo laughs. “I must ruffle your feathers for you to recognize me.”
“You don’t ruffle shit. I know an asshole’s voice.”
“Ahh, but would you recognize this voice?”
My heart hammers in my chest. If he has Rainey, I swear I’ll shoot the son of a bitch myself.
A man’s piercing cry screams into the receiver.
Is it my pops?
Drip. Drip. Drip. Water drips in the background. “Help!” he begs.
“You hear that, Cano? It should be music to your ears. One thing I despise is perverts who hurt children and those who abuse women. I might be cruel and unhinged, but one thing I won’t tolerate is shit like that. A waste of fucking humans.”
Who in the hell is he talking about? Another scream echoes through the walls.
“I’ll leave his face for you. Make him unrecognizable. Consider it a gift—for what he did to your woman.”
My phone vibrates in my ear. I pull it away to see. It’s a text. My nostrils flare with every sharp breath as I examine the photo. I pace the room, every step sharp and clipped. My pulse is hammering under my skin. He’s older now. But that vibe—the kind that makes your skin crawl—hasn’t changed.
Jason.