Page 89 of Back in Black

If her brother had turtled up and wasn’t intelligently defending himself, the fight should have been stopped by the referee. But an untrained amateur ref was as bad as an untrained fighter, maybe even worse since the fighters’ safety depended on him recognizing when a fighter was in real trouble.

“Bill collapsed, and while he lay there, unmoving, everyone screamed and cheered in excitement.” She looked at Brett with hollow remorse. “The other guy had won.”

“What happened to Bill?”

She swallowed hard. “When people realized he wasn’t coming to, emergency medical technicians finally came in, and they . . . I don’t know, worked on him in some way. I saw that his eyes were finally open and he even stood up, but he was so wobbly.” She put a fist to her mouth. “I wanted to go to him, but I didn’t want to humiliate him if he was okay.”

“And you were only twenty yourself, Audrey.” He wanted her to understand the limited expectations for a woman so young. “You were unfamiliar with the fight scene, what was wrong or right.”

She lowered her head. “He always complained to me about babying him too much in front of other people.”

With his fingertips under her chin, Brett brought her face back up. “But that’s what big sisters do, right?” Likehehad a fucking clue. “They show their love.”

She nodded. “But that night, I didn’t. That night, I tried to stay out of his way.” Her eyes briefly closed. “He had a seizure.” More tears welled. “Right there on the mat. Before he could leave the ring, he crumpled and then started jerking in spasms. Everyone was screaming and . . . excited. And by then, Icouldn’tget to him.”

The image appeared in Brett’s mind, and he could only guess the helplessness and dismay she had to have felt. “Christ, Audrey, I’m so sorry.” He put his forehead to hers and wished for a way to take some of her pain.

She dashed the tears from her face and rushed through the rest of the telling. “They took him to the hospital by ambulance, but he didn’t get better, Brett. And my poor parents . . .”

Her entire body tensed in remembered heartache.

Again Brett rubbed her back, offering the only thing he could: understanding and comfort.

“They didn’t even know Bill was fighting, that he was in danger, and then they had to come to the hospital and see him like that, being hurried off for brain surgery because of a clot on his brain.”

Brett had known her long enough now to know how she’d dealt with it all—she’d taken full responsibility, and in her protesting of the sport, she hoped to atone.

“It was not your fault, Audrey.”

She didn’t even hear him. Voice now lower, numb with agony, she said, “He lived through the surgery but went into a coma not long after. A few days later, he died without ever regaining consciousness. My parents didn’t get a chance to tell him good-bye, and I never got a chance to tell him how sorry I was.”

Brett pulled her closer and tucked her head in under his chin. The minutes ticked by, but he could only hold her until she’d regained her composure.

When she finally stirred, it was to look up at him and ask, “Now do you understand?”

He cared about her, Brett realized. A lot. Beyond enjoying her company and the physical compatibility, he was fast falling in love with her.

Hard as it would be for her, he couldn’t let her go on thinking that the situation with her brother had any resemblance to the sport of professional MMA fighting. He searched for the right words and decided honesty would be his best bet.

“I understand that, because of your experience, you have a skewed perception of the sport.” He smoothed a hand over her hair and kept her close when she would have leaned away. “Yeah, I get that, Audrey. And I know that emotions have a way of coloring things.”

“I am emotional about it, but it’s also fact.”

The tears left her lashes spiked and her brown eyes glistening. “My brother loved MMA. That was clear enough when he explained his plans to me. I know this was an amateur setting, too, but I saw how the crowd got pumped by the bloodshed and how, while my brother was collapsing onto the mat, no one cared.” She scrambled from his lap to stand before him, hurt, determined, smothered in guilt. “They were all too busy screaming for the fighter who’d beat Bill nearly to death.”

Brett stood, too. “You’re a smart woman, Audrey.”

She slashed a hand through the air and turned away.

Brett brought her back around again. “What happened to your brother—that isn’t the sport any more than a kid jumping off the roof of his garage in a cape is Superman. The SBC doesn’t support unsanctioned fights or amateurs trying to emulate professionals. In fact, they go out of their way to try to discourage that stuff.”

“If it isn’t about bullies and jerks, then why does your president, who represents the sport, need a handler to change his image?”

Ah, hell. It would have to come back to that. “Drew Black is a strong personality, and thank God for it. Most of the fighters are as responsible and caring as anyone else. But, as is the case with most athletes, they like to play hard and negotiate harder. A slick, smooth-talking businessman wouldn’t make it a year. Drew . . . he manages everyone and everything around him. Sure, he polarizes some people in the process. They either love him or they hate him, and if you attack his sport, you’ll hear from him. On his terms.”

She gave him anExactlylook of satisfaction.

Brett shook his head. “Honey, Drew isn’t the devil. He doesn’t beat women or kick puppies. He pays his taxes; he raises a shitload of donations for more charities than I can count; he’s not a drunk or on drugs. He’s a brilliant entrepreneur with standout leadership quality, who’s passionate about his business. He’s flawed, like we all are. The difference is that his flaws are highlighted in the media because he’s a celebrity of sorts.”

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