Page 8 of Craving the Fight (Gloves Off: Next Generation)

EMMA

When I got my luggage and headed out of the airport, it was precisely seven o'clock. There were hundreds of people around, chattering and carrying on with their business, but I could hear Reagan’s voice above it all.

“Emma!”

The second I saw her weaving in and out of the crowd, it was as if something clicked in me. Reagan was twenty-five, two years younger than me, and we looked nothing alike. I was a couple of inches taller, and I had our mother’s dark hair and green eyes. On the other hand, Reagan inherited our father's blond tresses and blue eyes. I’d tried not to miss her so much over the years, but I did. She was my best friend. Eyes burning, I gripped my suitcase and ran to her. She flung her arms out wide, and I hugged her so hard she gasped.

“I see you missed me,” Reagan teased.

I let her go. “More than you know.”

She nodded toward the walkway. “Come on. We got a little walk before we get to my car.” We shuffled through the crowds of people and finally managed to get away from them all. Reagan smiled over at me. “Since Peyton’s gone, you can sleep in her room. Unless you want to stay with Mom and Dad.”

“I might stay with them a couple of nights to catch up,” I decided, “but I want to talk to Ethan, Ripp, Brooks, and Braden to see what they think about the letter.” My goal was to make it look like a surprise when I saw my parents. That way, they would think it was planned. “Are the guys still at the gym?” I asked.

Reagan nodded. “Yep. They usually leave around eight.”

“What about Dad? Will he be there?”

Her smile spread wide when she looked over at me. “No. He was taking Mom out on a date tonight. So he skipped out early.”

A sense of relief washed through me. Out of all the years my parents had been together, I admired how much they loved each other. I wanted to tell my dad what was going on, but I didn’t want to drag him into it. Being able to handle things on my own was something I should be able to do. Also, knowing my father, he’d hire me a bodyguard, which was the last thing I wanted.

Reagan pointed to a parking lot not too far away. “We’re almost at the car.” We took a few more steps and I could practically see the wheels in her mind turn. “So, I’ve been thinking,” she said.

“Okay,” I drawled out. “About what?”

We made it to the parking lot, and I could see her car toward the back. “Your profession is competitive and kind of cutthroat, right?”

I shrugged. “It can be. I’m not like that, though. A lot of the women can be catty.”

“Exactly,” Reagan agreed. “What if someone came across the news article about our parents and wanted to start shit for the fun of it? You are popular. I’m sure you have a lot of competition in the modeling world who’d love to mess with your head.” Many years ago, my parents were interviewed for a huge article about their part in helping the FBI take down an illegal fighting ring. All you had to do was type in my dad’s name on any internet search engine and it’d pop up.

While contemplating her words, we arrived at her little silver Mini Cooper convertible. Yes, I had a lot of enemies, ones who were jealous of my success. I’d never understood the rivalry, especially if someone got a modeling job over me. I’d assume that I wasn’t the right one for the position. Never would I deliberately hurt someone because of it. If you worked hard, you could achieve your goals. I’d worked my ass off to get where I was today. Some would say my father paved the way for me, but it’d been all me for the past four years. Many agents have tried to seek me out, but I preferred to handle my jobs myself. I liked making connections and networking.

Reagan unlocked the car doors with her key fob, and I opened the passenger’s side door. “If this is someone trying to screw with my head, they’re really messed up. The letter truly freaked me out. I’m alone in New York. Here, I have you and the guys. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I can do some damage if I was attacked. Our dad didn’t teach me to fight for nothing.”

Reagan doubled over with hilarity. “You haven’t been in the ring for years, sis. I could wipe the floor with your manicured ass.”

Rolling my eyes, I tossed my suitcase into the backseat. “I have no doubt. Fighting wasn’t my passion. Besides, we’re the same weight. If I were to compete, we’d be fighting against each other. We both know what that did to Dad and Uncle Cam.”

Reagan frowned. “Yeah, we’ve all seen Cam’s scar. Sibling rivalry was no joke between them.”

“Got that right,” I said, sliding into the passenger seat. Reagan hopped in, and we started on our way. Thinking of our uncle, I wasn’t sure how he got the jagged scar that ran down his face, but I knew it was from fighting my dad. Our parents had been super secretive about their pasts.

Reagan put her foot to the metal as soon as we got on the highway. The apartment she shared with Peyton Emerson was super cute and beachy. It was completely different from mine in New York. I looked forward to the laid-back atmosphere. However, I was bummed that Peyton was out of town. She was more of a sister to Reagan and me than just a friend. Both Peyton’s parents were former UFC champions, and our mothers had been best friends since college. My mother said it was fate that she and Gabby had girls around the same time, that we were destined to be best friends.

Ironically, it didn’t end there. My brother, Ethan, lived with Peyton’s brother, Braden, who also happened to be neighbors to my cousins, Ripp and Brooks. It was like one big happy family. I was excited to see them all, well, except for …

My phone rang before I could ask Reagan if Carter would be at the gym. And what do you know, my caller happened to be none other than Aleah Reynolds, Carter’s sister. “It’s Aleah,” I said, showing Reagan my phone.

Reagan beamed. “Tell her I said hi. Ever since she moved to San Francisco, I haven’t seen her much.” That made two of us.

Curiosity piquing, I pressed the accept button. “Hey, Aleah.”

“Hey, girl. How’s it going in New York?”

The ocean passed us by quickly with Reagan’s driving. “Good. But I have to say you can’t beat the view here in Cali.”

---