Page 68 of If You Fight

He looked up at me and grinned. “Well, however it goes, I understand if you can’t wait up. I’m not fighting, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Okay. I’m going to try, though.”

“I love you. See you in a few hours.”

As he backed up toward the front door, I blew him a kiss. “Love you. Stay safe.”

The door clicked closed, and I hurried to put my shoes on and grab my sweater. Ryder was driving my car, so I ran down to the garage and jumped into the one car I knew my father wouldn’t even notice was missing. Never a fan of Janelle’s choice of buying a Jeep, he never drove it and made sure it was parked in the part of the garage farthest from the door to the house.

At the front gate, I turned on the charm and lied through my teeth to the grey-haired guard named Jack, eliciting a promise from him to keep my leaving a secret since I was going to buy my father a surprise birthday gift. He’d worked at the gate since I was a little girl, and although I knew he might tell someone I’d left the estate, I gambled that he wouldn’t since my father never even bothered to call him by name, instead referring to him as Joe or John or any other name that began with J when he bothered to speak to him at all.

Just as I suspected, Ryder drove to the warehouse. I parked far enough away to hide the Jeep but still be safe and snuck in through the side door into the dark hallway that led to the huge center room where the fights occurred. I stayed in the shadows to avoid being seen, and crept along the wall until I reached the room where the fighters’ dressing room.

I saw no one in there, so I continued toward the second door and opened it a sliver to peek through. Unlike when I’d been there for fights, the place seemed empty now. Floyd, another man, and Ryder stood in the area where matches were held talking before the two of them backed away and began sparring while Floyd barked out commands for what he wanted them to do.

Was this what he’d been doing all these weeks? How was he making enough money so we could get away by hanging out with Floyd here? And was this where he saw Kitty and she left her disgusting perfume on him?

A noise startled me, and I turned around to see Dylan standing in the doorway to the dressing room. Quickly, I walked toward him, explaining, “I was just watching. Please don’t tell Ryder I was here, okay? He doesn’t like me to see him fight, and I’m sure he’d feel the same way about his training.”

Dylan smiled and motioned toward the dressing room. “Come in here. They’ll be going at it for a while since I’m not due out there for another half hour.”

I followed him, and we sat down across from one another on two metal folding chairs. Hoping he could put my fears to rest, I asked, “Is it usually only you guys here at night like this?”

He didn’t seem to understand what I really meant and simply nodded. “Yeah. There are a bunch of us who spar together.”

“Nobody else comes here?” I asked, hoping to lead him to where I wanted him to go.

“You mean like your father? Nah. He doesn’t show up except for fights. Nope, nobody other than us.”

“I guess it’s strange to see a female here then,” I said, sure that would help him talk about any other women, if any ever came around.

Dylan chuckled. “Pretty much. This isn’t like MMA. There aren’t females who fight like we do.”

His answer made me feel foolish for doubting Ryder even as it made me happy. I’d been so stupid. He probably hadn’t even smelled like her that night. My mind was probably just playing tricks on me.

I stood to leave, pleased with the answer I’d gotten. “Well, I guess I better go. Don’t tell Ryder I was here, okay?”

“No problem,” he said with a smile. “I don’t think he’d mind. With all the training and fighting he’s been doing, you guys probably don’t see much of each other anymore.”

“You’re right. He’s here training every night, it seems.”

“That’s in addition to the two or three fights he’s in each week. He’s got himself on a grueling schedule, but he says he has to. Strike while the iron’s hot, I guess,” Dylan said, shrugging.

Two or three fights a week? My father only had him fighting a couple times a month, so who was he fighting for?

Was that how he was making the extra money?

A chill ran up my spine as I thought about what my father would do if he found out Ryder was fighting for someone other than him. If Dylan knew, then others did too. How long would it be before someone let it slip and my father learned the truth?

“I better go. Nice to see you again, and take care of yourself.”

He smiled at my concern like Ryder did whenever I told him to be careful. “That’s next to impossible in this business, but I’ll do what I can.”

Hurrying out into the hallway, I took one last look at Ryder sparring with that other fighter and then ran to my car. My fears that he was cheating on me were nothing but jealous nonsense, but now I had bigger fears about what my father would do to Ryder when he found out about what he was doing behind his back.

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