Would it make any difference, though? That tragedy would follow him for the rest of his life too. It might not matter if he waited three months or three years to fight again; he would always be the guy who delivered the punch that killed Tommy Dugas. Savannah was locked in this miserable cycle with Mike whether she wanted to be or not, but of the two of them, only she had the luxury to turn her face away, to avoid it, to not see it and continue on living her life.
He would have to face it day after day from now on.
Savannah was in the middle of a hot stone alignment when clarity finally came: she had to see what was happening. Even if she wasn't with him, he shouldn't have to suffer it all alone.
For someone who'd always considered herself strong, when had she become so weak?
"Okay," she muttered to herself later that night, settling in bed with her laptop. She'd decided not to call Rowan until she saw what they were dealing with, but she almost wished she were here. Navigating to YouTube, she searched for the AF Mayhem press conference and clicked on the one that was held when Mike was added to the card, biting her lip as it began to load.
God, he looked gorgeous, but she'd known he would. Dressed almost exactly like he had been when he took her out to dinner before that explosive night at his apartment, he was so dangerously sexy she had to squeeze her thighs together. Her mind and heart weren't the only parts of her that missed him. To think that man had fucked her in this very bed a little over a week ago.
Actually, no, she didn't want to think about that. As hot and precious as those memories were, they drove a knife through her chest.
She sighed in relief to see how welcoming the crowd was for him; if he'd had to endure hate being flung at him at every turn, it would make everything so much harder. He had a loyal following, and they obviously had not deserted him. The gratefulness showed on his face, and she wanted to reach through and hug him.
Frank Meyers was as cocky as she remembered from the fights she'd watched. He didn't get nearly as much support from the crowd, she saw, and the way he showed that belt off made her grit her teeth.
Then she sat in absolute horror watching the way things unfolded.
" . . . you killed him. You killed him. You killed him." Meyers was yelling, pandemonium was erupting, and Mike was shooting to his feet.
"Oh, baby," she murmured, putting a fist to her lips and fighting tears at the look on his face. He was putting on a tough front, but every time Meyers said it, she practically could see Mike take a blow inside. Everything devolved into shouting, but she still caught some of the words being exchanged.
"Everyone knows it was an accident, Frank. You know it too."
"Tell it to his family that's left behind."
"I did, asshole."
"You know I hear his wife is pregnant? I bet they can't wait to see you bleeding on the mat and I'm going to see to it that it happens. You'll see. You'll see!"
"How dare you, you piece of shit?" Savannah exclaimed out loud, slamming the laptop shut. She couldn't hear any more. Almost before she knew what she was doing, she was slipping on her flip-flops, grabbing her purse, and running for the front door with her car keys in her hand, leaving the laptop on her bed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rowan was still awake; her lights were on. Savannah hadn't even bothered to text her that she was coming. Getting her front door pounded on at night was probably scary as hell for a woman who lived alone, but Rowan snatched the door open nonetheless.
"You've got to see this," Savannah said without greeting or preamble, plowing into the house.
"What?" Rowan asked excitedly, shoving the door closed and following her.
"It will hurt. Hell, it hurt me. But more than that, I'm fucking pissed."
She could have pulled it up on her phone, but that screen wasn't big enough to show the sheer magnitude of the fuckery she'd just witnessed. Rowan had a small home office off the living room; Savannah veered in there. The PC was on, so she dropped into the desk chair and surfed to the press conference.
Rowan stood in silence behind her as it began, as the introductions and opening comments were made . . . Savannah skipped forward a bit until the first two questions were being answered. She wasn't looking at Rowan, but she heard her sharp intake of breath as Meyers began his tirade. But then he mentioned her pregnancy.
"What the hell!" she exploded. "How does he know about that? How do any of them? It isn't like a single one of them has fucking called to check on me. Even the ones that Tommy considered his friends!"
"I didn't think so, or else you would have mentioned it."
"What a fucking asshole. Savannah! I don't know that clown!" She stabbed a finger at the screen, where Meyers's ugly face was still ranting.
"Did Tommy know him? Personally, I mean?" Everyone knew of him.
"If he did he never talked about him."
"I would think we'd know someone who's vowing vengeance in our name."
"Look at him, he's just using it to get to Mike."
"And it's getting to him. You can see it."
Rowan watched silently for a moment. Mike took his seat again, but the pain was readily apparent in his sullen, haunted eyes, in the tightness of his jaw. "Yeah."
Savannah turned her back on it to look at her. "What should we do? We can't let that go unanswered. Especially with Mike thinking I hate him or something for signing up for this to start with."
Crossing her arms, Rowan pursed her lips for a moment, then tapped them thoughtfully with a pink-tipped finger. "I still have Tommy's manager's number. He was another one of those I'm here if you need anything guys who I haven't heard from since. Well, I need something now. I need a fucking press release."
"That could work. We could write something up, send it to him, and he could make sure it gets out to all the news outlets. I mean, look at this, Ro." She pointed at the number of views the video had accrued. "Hundreds of thousands of people have already heard this river of horseshit. It makes me sick to think of it."
"And Mike even tried to tell them he did contact us. He was being drowned out. No one is pointing that out, I bet."
"I don't know, I'm not even going to dare look at the comments."
"Hell, no, don't do that. Never do that. Let me find Rick's number. And then we'll write something."
They worked late into the night.
Every day, he trained until he could hardly move. Then he went to sleep and started all over again the next morning. Eat, sleep, grind. Repeat.
Mike didn't have much time to enjoy the sights in Mexico City, a place he'd never been. Jon kept his eating clean and his workouts efficient, though adjusting to the altitude was hell on him. Some days it was a chore to lift his arms, and he felt starved of oxygen. He and Jon both hoped getting acclimated to the thinner air at seven thousand feet above sea level for a month would benefit him during the fight. Meyers hadn't bothered; he was training at his usual camp in California. Whether it was cockiness or carelessness, Jon insisted that he was going to regret that decision.
"These guys will be dropping like flies as soon as they get that first cut," Jon had said, "but you'll be a machine, kid."
He might be a machine, but right now his engine was sputtering. Sparring with one of his training partners-he had several who were alternating taking the trip down to Mexico City to work with him-he was damn near out of breath after a couple minutes of throwing combos. But so was the other guy.
Kason was a good partner because he was quick, had a large arsenal of moves, and he wasn't easy to shake. Mike's T-shirt was already soaked with sweat, and he was wearing Kason down with jabs and kicks to his legs while Jon shouted instructions from the sidelines. His opponent wouldn't expect an attack using muay thai strikes, so Mike's strategy was to catch the fucker off guard with some brutal kicks. When he sensed the time was right to get serious, he mentally put Frank Meyers's face on that of his partner and let those fucking hateful words from the press conference echo through his head. It was a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart, and after a moment of reading Kase's movements, Mike spied his opening to deliver a spinning back kick that knocked him to the ground.
"Beautiful!" Jon exclaimed. Mike, suddenly feeling a little shitty, pulled his partner to his feet and hugged it out with him.
"Do that to Meyers and he'll be taking a little nap on the floor," Kason commented, tugging off his headgear.