Dances with Monsters(16)

Rex smirked. "I know what's wrong," he said in a teasing tone. "You're just butt-hurt since that little Italian chick never came back after you went crawling on hands and knees to say you're sorry."

"Hey, man," Heath said, rising from his chair. "Fuck you. Mind your own business."

"Come on," Rex exclaimed. "If you like her, just go see her again."

"I am not having this conversation with you, Rex," Heath said impatiently. "Now, get these people the fuck out of my gym so I can lock up and do something productive."

"Cool," Rex said, disappointed. "Guess I'll do that and then I'll go do something productive. Maybe a couple somethings." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Heath shook his head again.

"Whatever," he said. "Just make sure you wear a rubber and don't bring crabs into this gym."

When the gym was finally empty, Heath locked up and turned his attention to a punching bag. He'd give himself an hour then head home for the night. As he slugged it out on the bag, he thought about Drew. He'd never considered contacting her again after she'd made it clear she was done with the gym, but he had to admit that maybe Rex wasn't so off-base with his comment. Drew was a beautiful girl, and there was something about her that made her seem totally different from the girls that came to the gym.

Never see her again, Heath told himself, slamming his fist into the bag with more force than necessary.





Chapter Five


A couple nights later, Heath was sparring in the ring. It was a blessedly quiet night, for once, and the gym was relatively empty. He didn't know if there was some sort of special event going on that night that made Carter's so empty, and he didn't care. All he knew was that he finally had some peace and quiet.

He was sparring with Rex, and Jameson was there, along with three or four other guys. It was one of the rare nights that came along lately that Heath cherished, and he wasted no time hopping in the ring. He couldn't afford to let opportunities such as these pass him by, not with the tournament looming nearer and nearer.

Rex had started off by running him through some training drills, making him work up a sweat and work on his strength training. Heath was satisfied with how his training had been coming along over the last month and a half. With just four weeks left until the tournament, it was crunch time, but he was confident. Not over-confident—that wasn't his style. But he knew he was in better shape and form than he'd been at Ultimate Warrior with just under a month until the actual competition.

Now, he circled Rex in the ring. Rex was definitely a top sparring partner in the gym; in fact, he could compete himself if he wanted to. But for some reason, fighting wasn't really his thing; he preferred training, helping to develop other fighters. He'd used to fight for purses a couple years ago, but eventually the desire and luster for competitive fighting had diminished and he was now happy to simply train other fighters. But the man's experience certainly made him a worthy adversary in the ring, and Heath was concentrating harder than he normally needed to as he went up against Rex.

Rex lashed out with a lightning-fast jab which Heath deflected, only to take a sharp kick in the ribs. He stumbled backward but quickly caught his feet, then rushed Rex with a slicing elbow followed by a left hook, then dropped down and swept Rex's feet out from under him. He rolled backward and hopped up quickly before Rex could drop him from his prone position in the ring.

"Fucking quick bastard!" Rex called as he rose to his feet. Heath laughed at him behind his mouth guard, hopping lightly from foot to foot as he focused in on Rex's shoulder line. From the way Rex tensed slightly and leaned, Heath knew instantly it would likely be a jab coming off the left shoulder. He sent up a blocking forearm just as Rex's fist flew at him and then sent a hard push-kick with his left foot into Rex's gut. The air audibly rushed out of his lungs as he stumbled back, bouncing off the ropes. He held up a hand.

"All right, you Irish fuck," he panted. "Give me a minute."

Heath pulled his mouth guard out and smirked. "Sure, buddy," he said sarcastically. "Take all the time you need."

Breathlessly, Rex held up an extended middle finger before replacing his hand to his knee and sucking in a deep breath.

A sudden rush of cold air filled the gym, signifying the front door had just opened, and Heath glanced over his shoulder to see who it was coming to the gym at nine-thirty on a Thursday night. He did a double take as he caught a glimpse of shiny dark hair in a high, messy ponytail. A pair of warm brown eyes met his briefly, and he clenched his jaw to keep it from falling open in surprise; the last person on earth he'd expected to see was sauntering casually past the ring, toward the bags at the back.