Page 54 of Back in Black

His was a great human-interest story. It epitomized the sport: how the strong survived, how motivation and heart could never be discounted.

But Brett, damn him, wanted no part of it. Not that Drew would accept his decision. Giving up hadn’t gotten him where he was today. Pushing, working deals, convincing others to go along with his marketing schemes . . . that was key. One way or another, he’d get Brett on board.

Finally Simon called a halt to the bout. Gregor spit out his mouthpiece, pulled off his headgear, and bent over with his hands braced on his knees, sucking air.

For half a minute, Brett paced the mat like a caged lion. After he’d worked off the adrenaline, he walked over to Gregor with a smile—and thanked him for “helping him out.”

Gregor, still winded, feigned a sucker punch to Brett’s jaw, laughed, and then slapped him on the back.

Brett never even flinched. Leaning on the ropes, he talked to Simon and Dean. After asking questions, shadowing a few moves, and taking more instruction, he called it quits.

Brett had that killer instinct that would take him to the top. And he was one hell of a nice guy, to boot. Women would love seeing his background. Men would be inspired—

“He’s not going to go for it, you know? You might as well forget it.”

Drew hadn’t even heard Simon approach. He acknowledged him with a scowl. “Did he tell you that?”

“I heard him tellyouthat.”

Someone knocked over the bar to a weight set, making a terrible clatter on the concrete floor. Drew glanced up and found a woman standing there, her eyes rounded and her attention glued to Brett.

Simon leaned around Drew to see her. “Who is that?”

“Hell if I know.” Turning back to Brett, Drew watched him as he headed for the shower.

The son of a bitch knew he was there to talk to him, but he was trying to dodge him!

Drew started to go after Brett, but Simon forestalled him.

“Don’t be an ass, Drew. Let the man shower off the sweat.”

“Is there a back door?”

“Not from the showers, no.” Amused, Simon shook his head. “You’re relentless.”

Taking that as a compliment, not an insult, Drew rolled his shoulders. “A shitty upbringing like his is a fucking fantastic angle, and you know it.”

The girl had snuck closer, and at Drew’s language, she made a sound of disapproval.

Drew eyed her. Great. Now he’d have Gillian bitching him out about his language again. A gym should be sacred from delicate female ears, damn it.

Simon stepped around him. “Can I help you?”

With a sort of wide-eyed, slack-jawed concentration, her gaze went all over Simon. But then Drew had expected no less. The ladies had fawned over Simon from day one. That was why his fighting name had become “Sublime,” something Simon would never shake off.

Right now Simon wore only black boxing shorts, and as physiques went, he was no less than gifted. His hard training had a hand, but a prime draw from the gene pool had played a part, too.

Drew snorted. “Cat got your tongue?”

She snapped to attention—without taking her gaze off Simon. “I was hoping to speak to Brett.”

“He just hit the showers,” Simon told her. “He’ll be out soon. You’re welcome to wait.”

“Oh . . . okay. Thank you.”

Drew studied her with new interest. “Are you Brett’s girlfriend?”

“No, I . . .” Her eyes widened again. “Ohmigod. You’re Drew Black.”

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