Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3) (35 page)

He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. Drowning in the sea of regret, grief filled his lungs, lifesaving air unable to enter, the anchor on his sanity cut free by the sharp blade of Violet’s betrayal, leaving him caught in the eddy of his own self-destruction.

It would be so easy to let go—so easy to give over his control to the demons raging inside him. Bloodlust rose up swift and consuming. The urge to kill this man who’d taken Nikko’s life from him was a temptation too great to resist. His fingers tightened around the door handle, and he popped it open. Just as his feet were about to hit the ground, his phone went off again. Snatching the thing from the console, he barked, “What, goddammit!”

“She’s gone, Nik! I can’t find Raven!”

Celeste’s hysterical voice cut through the haze of rage blanketing his mind. “What do you mean
she’s gone
? Where the hell is she, Celeste?”

“I don’t know! We had a fight and she took off. Her phone is here. I don’t know where she went!”

“I’ll call Val and see if she’s there. Get on her cell and start calling her friends. See if anyone’s seen her.”

God help him, this wasn’t happening. In the blink of an eye his world was coming apart.

“What? You’re leaving? Vi, listen to me. This is crazy. Where will you go?”

“Back to New York,” she answered, struggling to keep the emo
tion out of her voice. She’d been doing just fine, methodically packing
up her office—until Pen came in. She should have known her friend would track her down when she hadn’t answered her phone. Vi pulled open her desk drawer and froze, closing her eyes against the sting of unshed tears. Lying there amid her collection of chopsticks was the napkin Nikko had written on the afternoon he’d had lunch delivered to her. Her vision
swam and she slammed the drawer closed before she completely lost it.

“Have you at least talked to him?” Pen tried again, bless her heart, but she couldn’t fix this—nothing could fix this. And Vi couldn’t explain it to her friend, even if she wanted to.

“I haven’t, and it’s better this way, trust me.”

“I don’t believe that, and neither do you. Nikko’s got to be a wreck right now.”

A tear slipped down Vi’s cheek, and she hastily swiped it away, working harder, faster, to empty her desk so she could get the hell out of here. “He’s going to be all right.” She wasn’t sure if she said it for her benefit or Pen’s.

“I’m not so sure that he is.”

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t think about Nikko right now, not when it was killing her to leave him. “Cancel my appointments and please tell everyone I’m sorry. Jim will be back in a few days. Everything will be fine.” Again, the lie slipped from her lips, the same one she’d been running through her head all night when panic threatened to overtake her.

“I can’t believe you’re really doing this. Vi, it isn’t you. I’m the crazy one who needs to be talked down from the ledge, not you. Please . . .” Her friend grabbed her arm, forcing her to face her. “Tell me what’s going on. Let me help you.”

Screw it. She’d hire a moving crew to finish packing her office when they packed her house. It was just stuff, anyway. Everything was replaceable. Vi took a deep breath and placed her hands on Pen’s shoulders. Looking her straight in the eye, she said, “I love you. You’re my best friend, and a few states aren’t going to change that. I’ll call you when I get settled.”

Leaving her box on the desk, Vi kissed her friend on the cheek and left. As much as it broke her heart, she refused to look back as she climbed into the cab waiting to take her to one last stop—the one she dreaded the most.

Violet knocked against the door, heart pounding, palms sweating against the box she held in her hands. It was Sunday, Nikko’s one day off from training. He should be here. Would he even answer if he were? Despite everything that had happened between them last night, the way they’d parted, she at least owed him an apology—even if he wouldn’t accept it.

The challenge was going to be holding herself together long enough to deliver it and get back to the cab before losing it. She knocked a little louder, her resolve withering with each passing second. What she wouldn’t give to turn back the clock forty-eight hours—that’s all it’d taken for her to destroy her life. The scrape of a chain lock rattled on the other side of the door, and a moment later it opened—only, it wasn’t Nikko standing there staring at her. Those silver-rimmed, sapphire-flecked beauties were unmistakably Nikko’s, but they belonged to a beautiful teenage girl.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Violet’s heart clenched at the sight of her, tearing open the raw wound and driving home the painful reminder that Nikko had never truly allowed her into his life. After all this time, he’d kept the most precious part of himself a secret. He’d lied to her, leading her to believe that he’d never had a family and didn’t want one. Why couldn’t he have shared this with her? Violet would have loved to have known this sweet, young woman, and she felt a sharp pang of rejection that Nikko had denied her that chance. Seeing her standing there only confirmed that Violet had never meant as much to him as he had to her. Then again, she didn’t need the reminder of this beautiful girl for that. She’d told Nikko last night that she loved him, and he’d thrown her declaration in her face and walked out on her. It didn’t get more obvious than that. Nikko Del Toro had never loved her.

“Is Nikko here?” Violet asked, breaking the awkward silence as the girl continued to study her. She wore that same unreadable expression on her face that her father did when he didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking.

“He went out for pizza and ice cream. But I expect him back any minute. Do you want to come in?”

“No,” she said, taking a step back. This was a mistake. She never should have come here, but there was a part of her that had wanted to see him one last time . . . “Thank you.”

She had just turned to leave when the girl said, “You’re Violet, right?”

She froze. How did this girl know her name? Had Nikko talked about her? She looked back, and the girl smiled. “Yes, how did you know?”

“Well, it wasn’t very hard to figure out. Your eyes match your name.”

“What is your name?”

“Raven.”

She flipped the ends of her hair at Vi and smiled playfully as if to say,
Isn’t it obvious?

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait? You’d be getting me out of the hot seat for a while.”

“Hot seat?”

“Yeah, I kinda got in trouble last night. Dad’s super cranky. I’ve never seen him this mad before.”

“I’m sorry, Raven, but I don’t think seeing me is going to improve your dad’s mood.”

Her smile melted into a curious look. “Why not? I think he really likes you.”

The knife in her gut twisted sharply. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t stand here and even try to begin to explain to this sweet girl what had happened, why her dad couldn’t love her, couldn’t let her in, because, honestly, Vi didn’t even know herself. She’d tried so hard, and she’d failed—miserably.

She glanced down at her watch, then back to Raven, who was now frowning. “I need to go. Will you please tell your dad . . . Just tell him I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

She didn’t wait for Raven to respond before handing her the box with Nikko’s belongings. As she turned and fled for the taxi, it was all Vi could do to put one foot in front of the other. Her knees were weakened by grief, threatening to buckle at any moment. Her chest physically ached, her heart shredded at the thought of losing Nikko. But then again, she’d never really had him. She’d had an illusion of him, and, like all illusions, it eventually faded, leaving behind nothing but the inescapable cold, hard truth—and, damn, did that hurt.

S
top! Thorson, take fifteen!”

The Viking did as he was told and left the cage. When the door rattled again, Nikko turned around to find himself facing Easton.

“You trippin’ again?” Easton demanded, cocking his head to look deep into Nikko’s eyes.

He hated to disappoint the guy, but he wasn’t going to find shit in there. Nikko had checked out a week ago, right after coming home to a
Sorry things didn’t work out
message from Clover. Nothing says
we’re over
like sending a guy’s boxers back to him in a cardboard box the day after you kiss your ex.

Since then, he’d just been going through the motions. The only time Nikko felt anything at all was when Tommy was beating the shit out of him. The guy always made Nikko hug him when it was over, but what the hell, he was getting used to it, and it was a small price to pay to feel something for a few hours.

Kill wouldn’t even get in the cage with him anymore.
“I know what you’re doing, man. And I ain’t gonna be a part of your self-destruction.”
What-evs . . . The guy could go fuck himself. That’s what he had Tommy for now.

“You ain’t been fighting for shit this last week. Care to tell me why?”

That’s because he’d barely been sucking air for the last week. He wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping. He felt like a goddamn zombie. Every
day, he kept hoping the next would get a little bit easier, but it was worse
than the last. Most miserable five days of his life, and that included the
time he’d spent in the ICU getting shrapnel dug out of his chest. At least they had fucking painkillers for that. There was no cure for getting your heart ripped out. That shit just kept bleeding and bleeding.

“Where is your head, man?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nikko growled, forcing the denial from his lips.

“Don’t stand here and lie to me. If you don’t get your shit together, you’re going to lose this fight.”

“I don’t give a fuck about this fight.”

“Well, you better start, because I did not just spend the last month, twelve hours a day, six days a week, away from my girl, training your unappreciative ass so you could walk into that octagon and lose. Miller MMA is backing you, so you better represent. You seein’ your shrink?”

Nikko’s glare was the only answer Easton was going to get. But that was all the answer he needed. Easton chuffed a knowing grunt and nodded. “So it’s like that, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled, moving to shoulder past him, but Easton’s hand clamped down on his arm like a vise, refusing to let him pass.

“I’ve seen that look before, man. In fact, it wasn’t that long ago that I was wearing it. You’re hot for your shrink.”

“She isn’t my shrink anymore. I fired her. I have my first appointment with her partner this afternoon.”

“Then what’s the problem, man? Go fuck her out of your system so you can focus on this fight.”

Nikko’s temper snapped. With a growl, he shoved Easton back, pinning him against the cage, crowbarring his forearm against his throat. Easton locked eyes with him, staring him down. There was no fear there. Impressive . . . Stupid as hell, but props nonetheless. Most men on the receiving end of Nikko’s wrath were scared as hell—but not Easton. The bastard was baiting him, pushing his buttons and putting Nikko’s temper to the test.

Curling his top lip into a crooked smile, Easton growled, “Fuck, man, you’re in love with her . . . Holy shit, does she know?”

Nikko shook his head. It didn’t matter. She’d made her choice. He’d seen it with his own damn eyes. The image was permanently seared into his retinas. At least he had a new demon to torture him at night. He should thank Violet for the changeup; that other rerun had been getting old.

“You gotta tell her.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Listen, you got one week left before this fight to get your head on straight. You need to take that time off and fix this.”

“What about the CFA?”

“Let me worry about the CFA. Trust me, they’re more concerned about who you’re fighting than who you’re fucking. There’s nothing more I can do for you in the cage, Del Toro. This fight is going to be won or lost by what’s in here.” Easton fist-bumped Nikko’s chest directly over his heart. “Go home and get your shit figured out.”

Nikko hit the showers, his mind gnawing on Easton’s words. He was right about one thing: he needed to get his head on straight, and in order to do that he needed closure. Whether Violet was back together with her ex or not, it didn’t matter. He had shit that needed saying, and until he said it, he wasn’t going to be able to get himself straight. He’d been dreading this therapy appointment for the last week. It was going to be awkward as hell seeing her, but maybe he should man up and go a little early. He needed to face the source of his misery sometime—might as well be now.

Whether Violet was his girlfriend or not, she had been his shrink, and that meant she was bound to doctor-patient confidentiality. Perhaps it was time he came clean with his past and purged the darkness in his soul. What did he have to lose? Nothing, anymore. The worst had already happened. Maybe if he did this, the nightmares would finally stop. He’d never told her he loved her, and she deserved to hear that at least once, even if it was too late to change things.

Once he’d said his piece, he vowed he would move on. He had a damn good career and a daughter to raise. He’d focus on those things and eventually the pain of losing Clover would subside. It had to, because the alternative was unthinkable.

Pen glanced up from her desk. “Nikko, you’re early. Your appointment with Dr. Morrison isn’t for another thirty minutes.”

“That’s all right. I came early to talk to Violet. She free?”

Nikko glanced around the waiting room, several pairs of eyes lighting on him, but only one made him stop and take notice. The man he’d warned Violet about—Bob, was it? Nikko met his pale-blue eyes dead on, returning the stare with his own
What the fuck are you looking at?
look, not breaking eye contact until those creepy peepers shifted somewhere else.

When he turned his focus back to Pen, her smile had fallen and the flash of emotion he saw there made the knot of dread in his gut clench with unease.

“You don’t know, do you?” her voice dipping to a hushed whisper.

“Know what?”

“You haven’t even tried to call her? God, Nikko, you are an asshole.”

She scowled at him like this was
his
fault. Is that what Violet had told her? That he was to blame for their breakup? He wasn’t the one who’d gone behind her back and dug into her past. He wasn’t the one who’d gotten caught kissing his ex. He wasn’t the one who’d—

“She’s gone, Nikko. She went back to Manhattan last week.”

“What?” The barked question ricocheted off the walls of the waiting room. All eyes were back on him, but he was too shell-shocked to give a shit. “Why?” he demanded. “When?” His mind was reeling, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer to his questions. She’d gone back to her ex. So much for his closure . . .

“She left the day after your fight. Just packed up and took off.”

Just like she’d done after her divorce. Was that her solution to everything? Running away? He’d thought she was stronger than that. Guess he was wrong. Pen glanced at the waiting room and stood. Coming around the desk, she took his arm and led him down the hall to somewhere more private.

“Something’s going on. It isn’t right, Nikko. But I couldn’t get her to talk to me.”

“She went back to her ex, Pen.”

“Barry? No. She hates that bastard. She’d never go back to him—at least not willingly.”

“She looked pretty willing when she was kissing him the night we fought.”

“She did what? No way . . .” Pen shook her head hard in denial. “She’d never do that to you. There’s something more going on here that we don’t know about.”

“Or there is the obvious scenario. We fought, we broke up, and she went back to her ex.”

“Nikko, Vi loves you. She wouldn’t just leave like that. And never with Barry.”

“But she did. Perhaps you have a little too much faith in your friend, Pen.”

“Perhaps you don’t have enough,” she snapped, narrowing her glare at him and poking him in the chest. “She walked away from everything. You, me, her career, her patients . . . That’s not like her. What if she’s in trouble? What if Barry forced her to go somehow?”

Was it possible or just wishful thinking from her friend who didn’t know Violet as well as she thought she did? Neither scenario sat well with him. The idea that Vi might have gone against her will sent Nikko’s heart hammering inside his chest. His gut churned with fear for her. Could Pen be right? He didn’t know Barry well enough to have any idea what that bastard was capable of.

“Barry has been calling her almost every day for the last couple of months. It’s like he’s obsessed with her. And it wasn’t always like that. For the first three months she moved out here there was nothing. He never bothered her. What I don’t understand is why all of a sudden, after all this time, he would want her back. And why show up out of the blue? It doesn’t make sense.”

Yeah, well, he knew the answer to that. Violet had contacted Barry to get his military records. How that fucker had managed to accomplish it was another matter entirely. Shit . . . Was there any validity to Pen’s fears? Who knew? His head was so messed up right now, he probably wouldn’t know the truth if it slapped him across the face. What he did know was that he needed answers, and if Pen was right and Violet was with that bastard against her will, Nikko would find out, and then he would make the asshole pay.

“I’m going to New York. I’ll call you when I get there.”

As the last patient of the day walked out of her office, Vi exhaled a pent-up sigh. She’d done it. She’d made it through the first week—the first week of the rest of her life.
Jesus, just take me now
. . .

Vi swore if she had to listen to one more rich, spoiled housewife
complain about how bad her life was, she was going to stab herself in
the ears with her pencil. She missed her patients in Vegas, she missed
Pen, and, most of all, she missed Nikko . . . At the thought of him, her
chest ached with regret, cramping so tightly she was sure she would die
of a broken heart. The nights were always the worst. She’d lie awake in the guest bedroom of her old home, remembering what it was like
to
sleep in his arms. Night after night she replayed every touch, every
kiss—reliving every moment he’d made love to her. And then she’d cry herself to sleep, ruing the day she’d destroyed it all with one phone call.

If she’d only known then what she knew now. If only Nikko wouldn’t have lied to her. If only he’d trusted her with the truth, all this could have been avoided. In trying to help him, she’d gambled—and she’d lost.

It was only a matter of time before Barry demanded she let him back into her bed. He was growing impatient, but God help her, she just couldn’t do it. She wasn’t sure she could give up that part of herself, even if it meant keeping Nikko’s secret safe. She thought of him constantly, wondered how he was doing, if he was all right. His fight was coming up soon. Was he ready? Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Had he even tried to call her? She wouldn’t know. The first thing Barry had done was demand she give him her phone. He’d given her a new one, and she’d lost all her contacts. Damn the cloud; she’d never taken the time to learn how to back anything up to it.