Page 71 of Punchline
For fuck’s sake. “I’m not fighting for anyone else. I have no intention of going pro.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“How about you listen to him instead of arguing with him?” Ethan put in, pulling all of Dimon’s rising ire his way.
“Who the hell are you?” Dimon snapped.
“My guest,” I said at the same time Ethan replied, “His boyfriend.”
Both were true, but… MMA didn’t have a good reputation for being LGBTQ-friendly. Not many sports did, but this was one where people could literally be choked unconscious for their sexuality and have it labeled a “training accident.” I’d seen it happen, which was probably part of the reason I’d resisted coming out for so long.
It was Ethan’s turn to go stiff, as if he expected me to be mad about him being honest. Fuck that. It was out there now; I might as well own it.
“My boyfriend,” I agreed, and Dimon got a look of absolute disgust on his face.
“Well,” he said with a barely concealed sneer, “it looks like I dodged a bullet then. The last thing we need is someone like you in the locker room.”
“What the hell are you implying?” Ethan demanded.
“Nothing,” Dimon said, then gestured to a few burly guys in security uniforms. “Just that I want to look after my fighters, and having someone panting after their asses backstage is the opposite of that. I think we’re done.” One of the security officers stopped by Ethan’s side. “Get these two out of here.”
I was pissed, but I was willing to go, even though it meant missing out on the main event. But then, while Ethan was still reaching for his jacket, the wannabe cop beside himgot impatient and reached out and jerked him toward the end of the aisle?—
By grabbing right above where the cast ended. Ethan’s face went pale from pain, and when I stepped forward I barely recognized my own voice. “Let him go.”
“Back the fuck off,” the security guard snapped, and he did. Not. Let. Go.
So Imadehim let go.
CHAPTER 23
ETHAN
“Berns. Berns. Calm down.” Marek’s voice was low and even on the other end, full of infuriating level-headedness. “Take a breath. What’s going on?”
I wanted to reach through the phone and smack him, but I did as I was told and took a breath. I couldn’t say it helped much. “Jake. Is in jail.”
His own breath hitched on the other end, as if he’d finally understood that I wasn’t freaking out over nothing. “Where are you? Carson and I are on our way.”
I closed my eyes. “I’m at the ER. I’m?—”
“The ER?” All his level-headedness vanished in favor of panicked fury. “What the fuck happened? Did Jake—sakra, tell me he didn’t?—”
“No! No!” I shook my head for no one’s benefit but my own. “He didn’t do anything. Not—not to me, I mean.”
The other end was so silent, I thought the call had dropped.
I swallowed hard and stared at the ceiling in my too-bright, too-sterile room at the ER. “Someone grabbed me—my fucked-up arm—and Jake lost it. They arrested him, andI came here to make sure they didn’t jack up my broken bones.”
“Did they?” Marek sounded concerned now.
“No.” I exhaled hard. “My whole arm fucking hurts, and they made me talk to the damn cops, but the X-rays look fine.”
Marek was quiet for a moment. Then he pushed out a breath. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m on my way to you. Carson will go see what’s going on with Jake.”
“I am?” Carson’s voice was tinny in the background. “What am I missing?”
“I’ll fill you in in a minute.” Marek shifted his attention back to me. “Which hospital are you at?”
