Down and Out

Math, man. I hate it.
These numbers are starting to bleed into one another, so I push the papers on my desk away and scrub my hands over my face. The gym’s making money. That’s all I need to know right now.
A knock at the door has me looking up, seeing Marcus standing in the open doorway with an odd expression. “What’s up, man?”
He steps into my office and shuts the door behind him. When he faces me, he looks grim. “I just got a call from Jimmy’s secretary, asking me if I could fit in a new fighter.”
“Okay. . .” I frown and lean back in my chair. That’s not really new. Every now and then Marcus helps Jimmy out with his new recruits, until they can find trainers of their own.
So why the hell is he acting weird about it?
“This new fighter’s a woman,” he says, crossing his arms as he leans against the door. “Your woman.”
“What?” I let out a mixture of a scoff and chuckle as I stare at him, trying to gauge whether he’s full of shit or not. “The hell are you talking about?”
He pushes off the door and walks over to my desk. “I’m talking about Jimmy seeing your girl deck Jamie last night, and now he’s got it in his head that she’s a fighter. I told you two weeks ago that he was thinking about starting a women’s league.”
I stand so fast my chair rolls into the wall as I walk around my desk. “I thought you were kidding about that!”
His hands push on my chest, stopping me. “You gotta be smart about this, bro. You go up there and just start yelling, and you’re asking for trouble. You gotta calm down. Talk to her.”
His calm, rational response just pisses me off even further, because I know he’s right and I don’t want to hear it. I just want to know what the hell she’s thinking. “Since when are you the Dalai f*cking Lama when it comes to chicks?” I ask, brushing past him.
The gym’s a blur as I jog outside, then take the steps two at a time up to my apartment. I throw the front door open and call out her name, but I’m only met with silence.
Where the hell did she go?
Pulling my phone out, I scroll through my contacts and dial her number, but instead of ringing, I get loud beeping and an automatic voice saying, “This number has been disconnected.”
I pull my phone back and frown, looking at the screen. I called the right number. . .
Before I can get too worried, I hear someone walking up the stairs, and I stick my head out of the door, seeing Savannah coming up. My relief is momentary, because as soon as I see her face, I’m reminded that she plans on using it as a punching bag and I’m livid all over again.
I’m pacing around the foyer when she appears in the door and stops dead at the sight of me. There’s no hiding the enraged look on my face.
Stalking over to her, I pull her inside and slam the door behind her. “When did Jimmy approach you?”
She looks up at me, brows drawn. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Savannah. When?”
Jerking out of my grip, she scowls at me. “Last night. After you left to get the car.”
That sneaky son of a bitch.
I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I’m gonna kill him. I don’t care how much money he has or how far his connections go.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand, following her over to the couch, where she dumps her purse.
“Because I didn’t seriously consider it at the time. I was too busy having my heart ripped out by the one person I was dumb enough to let close to it.”
She might as well have slapped me across the face.
Her words reverberate through my skull, piercing me with every ricochet. Who knew such a pretty mouth was capable of saying such ugly things? My eyes burn as I choke out, “That’s not fair. I never meant to hurt you.”
Her eyes flicker and she looks down. Remorse is written all over her face, but she doesn’t apologize, and I know she won’t. She’s too stubborn.
I’m not sure which hurts more—what she said, or what she doesn’t.
My jaw clenches as I stare at her. “If you didn’t seriously consider it last night, then when did you? When the hell would you have time to—”
I’m such an idiot.
Shaking my head, I scoff in disbelief. “That’s where you were right now, isn’t it?”
“No, I was having coffee with Macy.” She looks down at the floor as she says, “I called him while I was out.”
“So that’s it? You just tell him you’ll do it without even talking to me about it first?”
Indignation flares in her eyes, and I know where she’s going with this before she even says it.
Savannah narrows her gaze on me, giving me a look so lethal I have half a mind to shield my balls. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission.”
“That’s not—” I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.
I didn’t want her to ask me if she could do it, I wanted her to ask me if she should. This is not a lighthearted decision, and as someone who cares about her safety and well-being, not to mention someone who knows firsthand what it’s like, I would have liked to be included in her decision-making process.
I’m not mad because she chose to do it, I’m mad because she chose to do it without me. I was starting to think of us as a team, but now I realize how stupid that is. It’s always been Team Savannah, and it’s always going to be Team Savannah. I’m just her pathetic cheerleader, stuck on the sidelines.
“This isn’t a game, Savannah. You could get hurt.” Could get hurt? Try will get hurt.
“So you can do it, but I can’t?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s a little sexist, don’t you think?”
“I know what I’m doing! I’ve trained for years. You can’t just throw one punch and think that’s good enough to get into the ring.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I’m well aware that I could get my ass kicked?” She huffs out an exasperated breath and says, “I’m gonna use the money for school, Declan. It’s the only way I’ll ever be able to afford it.”
My fists clench as I pace. Impotent rage burns in me, and I’m dying for something to hit, throw, or break. “If you need money, I’ll give it to you. I’ll triple what he’s paying you if you don’t go through with this.”
“I don’t want your money!”
I whip around and face her, returning her glare. “But you’ll take his? What’s the difference? Money is money.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t sleep with him, that’s the difference.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. Now I feel like an a*shole.
Crossing the space between us, I take her face in my hands. “Don’t do this, Savannah. Please.” I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to this face. It’s tearing me apart.
She relaxes into me and says, “It’s just one fight. I made that very clear when I talked to him.”
Bull-f*cking-shit. I’ve heard that line countless times. “It’s never just one fight, not when that much money’s at stake. People get greedy. People get dangerous. Shit like this happens,” I say, pointing to the fading bruises on my face.
“It’s just one time,” she says, dropping her eyes.
Nothing I say is going to change her mind. She’s doing this, whether I want her to or not. No amount of begging will work. She’s going to get hurt, and I can’t stop it, I can’t protect her from it. The realization is crushing and makes my heart ache in a totally unfamiliar way.
Blinking, I look down at the floor. I half-expect to see my bloody, still beating heart trapped underneath her foot.
It sure as shit feels like she ripped it out and stomped all over it.
Goddamn it, how am I supposed to just sit back and let this happen? It goes against every instinct I have to keep her safe and protected.
Sighing, I rub my head. “Why is your phone not working?”
She won’t meet my eyes. “It got cut off for non-payment.”
Right. She has no money. That’s why she’s doing this. “How much do you need?”
Her eyes lift. “Declan—”
“How. Much.”
“You’re not gonna pay my phone bill for me.”
“Yes, I f*cking am. You need a phone, Savannah, especially with that deathtrap you call a car. What happens if you get stranded? What happens if you get hurt? Swallow your pride for a goddamn second and be reasonable.”
I immediately feel like a douche. I’m pissed off and hurt, but that’s no excuse to be a dick to her, and I know it. I was raised better than that.
I open my mouth to apologize, but the icy look on her face stops me. She clearly doesn’t want to hear it, and frankly, I’m too tired to give it.
“I need sixty,” she says, keeping her eyes anywhere but on me.
Wordlessly, I turn and head down the hallway, into my bedroom, where I walk into my closet. Kneeling down, I enter the combination to my safe and open it, pulling out the cash.
I’ve got stacks of it in here. Like with any illegal activity where you make a shit-ton of cash, I can’t just take this to the bank and deposit it. Anything deposited over ten thousand dollars gets reported to the IRS, so I’m slowly—and carefully—laundering it through the gym per Jimmy’s accountant’s instructions. It’s illegal as hell, but then so is how I made the money in the first place.
I’d give it all to Savannah in a heartbeat if I thought it’d change her mind.