Hard Bastard(202)

“Trent dumped me!”

I almost laughed out loud. The poor, pathetic girl. She clearly had been used by Trent, and the second he got what he needed, he had moved on.

It was disappointing. I had been so close, but apparently I was still too far away. The real blackmailer, the final piece of the puzzle, was Trent himself.

As Madison slowly stopped sobbing, I knew that my part in the whole thing was coming to a close. I knew that once I told Cole about Trent, he would lose his shit and probably try to kill the guy.

But once I convinced him not to do something stupid, I knew he’d take care of it. Even though it seemed so insane and impossible, I knew Cole would come out on top.

As I comforted Madison, I knew it was almost finished.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Madison got herself together. She told me that she was sorry and never meant for any of it to happen, but it didn’t matter. I felt bad enough for the pathetic girl to forgive her anyway.

I walked her to the elevator and watched her get in.

“I’m sorry again,” she said.

“Forget it. I’ll take care of Trent.”

“Tell him I said he’s a fucking piece of human shit.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

The elevator doors shut.

I turned and walked back toward downtown. My heart was racing in my chest. I didn’t want to tell Cole, but I knew I had to.

I was afraid, but I was excited. It was finally coming to an end.





Chapter 16





Cole





As the fight drew nearer, my life became more and more focused. That was how it always happened. The things that swirled around my life and caused me stress, and even the things that I enjoyed, they all were swept aside as I prepared myself.

MMA fights didn’t last very long. Because of that, people tended to think that they didn’t take much effort. Sure, you were normally in the ring for less than a half hour, sometimes only minutes.

But the time spent in the ring was the most brutal and intense moments imaginable. You were constantly fighting for your life, trying to defeat your opponent. That person across from you was as trained to fight as you were, and he wanted to beat you into unconsciousness or hurt you until you begged him to stop.

It was a bloody frenzy, a terrifying frenzy, and I loved it.

But because of that, I had to prepare myself. The weeks leading up to a fight were spent training my body, but also my mind. I would meditate on the fight, watch film of the guy I was going to be up against, prepare my strategy. I would plan and think and try to keep myself in the right frame of mind.

Since the Trent fight was coming up fast, I had to do all of my intensive preparations that much faster. I hated to rush everything, but I had no other choice. My only solace was knowing that Trent was rushing his preparations. More than that, he didn’t have any film of me fighting, while I had film of every one of Trent’s matches since I was last in the ring with him.

And he had gotten much, much stronger since then.

I remembered a relatively weak guy that was prone to fits of rage. He used to love to stand up and throw punches. But the guy Trent had turned into was much more lethal, much more controlled. He didn’t lose his temper a single time, and he picked his opponents apart with smart and well-timed attacks.

He’d gotten a lot better, but so had I. Back before I left for Thailand, I was known as a Judo fighter, a submission guy. I was good at getting my opponents onto the ground and getting them into submission holds, forcing them to give up before I broke their bones or choked them out.

In Thailand, though, I had gotten much stronger. Muay Thai fighting was all about throwing punches and kicks. Trent knew the sort of stuff I’d learned over there, but he had never actually watched me practice it. As far as he knew, I was still that same Judo guy he remembered.

That fact changed my game plan. That plus a hundred other factors went into my planning and made my head spin.

Which was why I didn’t even notice when Alexa walked down into the basement. I was too deep in my own head, envisioning the fight, going over my moves, as I finished my sit-up reps.

“Hey,” she said, yanking me out of my daze.

I looked up at her. She was sitting on the bench press machine, her legs crossed. She was leaning back on her hands, making her breasts jut out from her chest. I couldn’t help but look up and down at her body.

I hadn’t seen her much in the last two days. As far as I knew, it was Tuesday, but I wasn’t keeping good track.

“Are you busy?” she asked.

“Nah. Just finished.” I stood up and walked over to my bag, grabbing my towel.

“How’s it going?”

I shrugged. “About as good as it can.”

“What do you mean?”