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Rio knew it was probably messed up and made no sense, but he’d always been able to count on boxing to help relax him, to calm him. Normally, it cleared his head like nothing else - sex didn’t even come close - and he’d needed that clarity tonight.
It had been three days since shit had gone sideways - since Elizabeth had taken it upon herself to fix a problem that hadn’t fucking existed, and blown the deal they’d been working on straight to hell. She’d fucked up, and to say he hadn’t handled it well was the understatement of the fucking century.
It wasn’t the first time she’d fucked shit up for him, but usually it was easier for him to move past it. This time, though, he was having a harder time getting it go. His brain just kept spinning and refused to turn off.
It was why he’d come to this decaying building on the wrong side of town to fight an unsanctioned bout against a guy he had no business being in the ring with.
The kid was young, probably mid to late twenties, and far too cocky - he reminded Rio a little of himself at that age. It wasn’t like the fight was going to be entirely one-sided - the guy was definitely going to give him a run for his money - but the way Rio was feeling…? The way he was itching for a fight, and needed to hit something to work out his frustrations and get the noise in his head to quiet? Yeah, the guy didn’t stand a chance.
But then she’d shown up.
He’d clocked her out of the corner of his eye the second she walked in. There were other women in the crowd, some just as bloodthirsty as the men, but she stood out. None of the others carried themselves quite like her.
At first, she’d stuck to the back of the room, but it wasn’t long before she was moving, weaving her way carefully through the tightly packed bodies until she was ringside. Right. Fucking. There.
Rio’s momentary lapse of concentration cost him. It didn’t last long, but the kid noticed the second he got distracted and lost focus, and he took full advantage of the opportunity. The hit he landed, a hard but thankfully glancing blow off his temple, had enough power behind it to rattle Rio’s brain and open a cut above his brow. Shaking his head to clear his vision, Rio swiped his gloved hand across his forehead.
Smearing away the blood that immediately started to ooze, sticky and warm from the wound, he waved away the referee and cursed - her, mainly - as his opponent started bouncing around the damn ring like he’d fucking won it all instead of only landing a lucky fucking shot.
While he was safely out of range, Rio chanced another glance her way. Eyes impossibly wide, she stared back at him with a look of horror on her face. After what he’d said the last time they saw each other, he was honestly a little surprised she didn’t look happier he’d just gotten his bell rung, but his anger flared again. He didn’t want or need her fucking pity.
He was happy to give her a show, though.
Rio had gone into the fight confident he wasn’t going to leave the loser, but her showing up sparked something in him. Spurred on by the new fire burning in his belly, Rio regrouped and focused all his attention on his opponent. The kid had gotten in one lucky punch, but Rio was determined there wasn’t going to be a second.
Over and over, Rio’s own punches landed. His fists flew swift and sure, and it wasn’t long before his opponent started to fatigue and get sloppy. That’s when he went in for the kill, landing blows faster than the guy could recover.
Jab. Cross. Jab. Jab. Cross. Then, one final uppercut sealed the deal, sending the kid to the mat. Around them, the crowd went wild. Chest heaving, body glistening, dripping sweat and blood, Rio waited just long enough for the announcer to finish counting the guy out to make sure he stayed down. Then he ducked between the ropes and made his way out of the open space that was being used as the arena for the night. It was obvious the kid wasn’t getting up - not under his own steam, anyway - and Rio didn’t care to be paraded around the ring like a lot of guys did. He wasn’t there for the glory - or the money he’d just made. He hadn’t found what he’d come for, not entirely, but now it was time to leave.
As he made his way through the crowd toward the small, dingy back rooms that had been designated for the fighters to use before and after they got in the ring, part of him hoped that she’d left when he did. That she’d be so disgusted by the brutality she’d just witnessed that she’d hightail it out of there and pretend like it had never happened. She was good at shit like that. But he also wasn’t all that surprised when, a few minutes later, someone pounded on the door of the old storage room he’d staked his claim on. Seconds later the rusty hinges creaked and one of the security guys - Bruno, Rio was pretty sure - stuck his head inside.
“Broad says she’s here with you,” he explained gruffly, pushing the door open wider so Rio could see her standing out in the hallway. Someone like her looking for someone like him in a place like this? The mountain of a man clearly didn’t believe her claim for a second, and Rio was tempted to tell him he’d never seen her before in his life. She’d gotten herself this far, he figured, she could see herself out. But part of him knew he’d never let that happen. It would be a few more minutes before the organizers got the next fight set up, and the amped up crowd would have nothing to distract them until then. Throwing her back out there now would just be asking for trouble.
More trouble that he’d have to deal with. Getting herself into messes that he needed to clean up? It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’d had enough of that lately to last a lifetime. So, against his better judgement, instead of turning her away like he wanted, he nodded brusquely at the bouncer.
“Let her in,” he snapped.
Moving quickly before he had a chance to change his mind, she slipped past Bruno’s imposing form, and then they were alone.
She didn’t speak right away - trying to gauge his mood, Rio guessed - and he decided to let her simmer. The fatigue was back; this was one fight he didn’t have the energy for, and he didn’t even try to hide the weariness in his voice.
Finally, “What’re y’doin’ here, Elizabeth?”
Across the room, she took a deep breath and shrugged a shoulder, trying to play it casual, to act nonchalant.
“I was in the neighborhood,” she said finally, clearly trying to project more confidence than she was actually feeling. Except, he hadn’t missed the way she’d jumped when the heavy metal door had clanged shut behind her.
She was smart enough to know she wasn’t safe out there, but the jury was still out on how safe she felt trapped in here with him. Sure, she tried to act tough, but he could read her tells by now; she was second guessing herself. Her posture was too rigid, and her eyes had grown impossibly wide as they furtively scanned the room, cataloguing the layers of grime and paint peeling off the walls, the mismatched stools shoved into the corner, and the scarred work table that held his discarded gloves and gym bag.
She was nervous? Definitely. Uncomfortable? Undoubtedly. A little afraid…?
Good.
He barked out a rueful laugh and gave his head a disbelieving shake as he began unwrapping his hands, easily spotting her lie for exactly what it was.
The building they were standing in was an old abandoned car parts factory just off Gratiot, well past the edges of Eastern Market. There was no way she would have been caught dead in this neighbourhood. Not unless she had a good reason. Not unless there was something in it for her. She was so far out of her element Rio would have found it hilarious - if he wasn’t still so pissed.
Hands finally free of the tight cotton constraints, Rio threw them onto the table and flexed his fingers to loosen them as his agitation spiked. She needed to get to the fucking point.
“Yeah, how about you try again, sweetheart.”
The disdain in his voice caught her off guard, and for a second she looked like she wanted to snap back, but bit her lip instead. Finally, blowing out a long breath, she steadied herself and did what he asked.
“I overheard Cisco talking to Dags. He said you were going to be here tonight, and I wanted to see you.”
Rio’s brow arched in surprise. She knew what he was doing here and she still came? Slowly, he eyed her up and down, really examining her for the first time. If she was telling the truth, it certainly explained her outfit. In black on black on black, she looked more like Cat Burglar Barbie than the PTA’s reigning three-time champion cupcake baker.
It didn’t change a damn thing, though.
Gathering his discarded wraps, he stuffed them into his bag with far more force than was necessary.
“I didn’t come here to fight,” she volunteered, extending her version of an olive branch.
Rio scoffed and took a long drink of water from the bottle tucked inside the duffle. Guess that made one of them.
“I was just trying to help,” she offered, trying again, as her shoulders lifted in a slight apologetic shrug.
Her words were soft, tentative, and echoed faintly of that saccharine sweetness Rio hated hearing on her breath. It was the tone she reserved for when she was doing her damnedest to try to convince someone to do something they didn’t want to - or persuade them to forget something she’d already done. It pissed Rio off when she tried that shit with him. He imagined it had worked to butter up her ex more often than the dimwit realized, but him…? He couldn’t claim he was always immune to it, but it sure as shit wasn’t going to work now. Her pretty pout and sad doe eyes weren’t nearly enough to wipe the slate this time.
Rio’s short fuse ignited.
“I didn’t need your fuckin’ help!” He bellowed suddenly, fists clenched at his sides. “I had it handled!”
His voice echoed off the walls in the small room, and she blanched, flinching at the vehemence in his tone. He watched, furious, as she swallowed visibly and her delicate mask fractured.
“But he was…”
Jesus. How could someone so fucking smart be so… stupid… sometimes?
“He wasn’t gonna do shit, Elizabeth. It was all part of the game. He needed t’look tough and act tough t’make himself feel like he wasn’t gettin’ a shit deal. That’s it. He wasn’t gonna walk away - He knew it, and I knew it.”
Realizing how close to losing it he was, he abruptly turned his back to her. Bending, he pressed his palms against the edge of the table, and took a deep calming breath, then two more. After a minute, he stood and grabbed a towel out of his bag and rubbed it across his face, wiping away the last of the blood and sweat that had started to sting his eyes. Next, he pulled out a clean t-shirt and yanked it over his head. Only then, once he’d gotten his temper under some semblance of control, did he turn around again.
Her face had somehow paled even more, but it looked like maybe she was finally starting to get it… Finally starting to understand how badly she’d fucked up.
Rio sighed, propped himself against the table, and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was tired. It was the kind of exhaustion you felt in your bones. The kind of weariness even a week’s worth of 12-hour sleeps couldn’t come close to relieving.
“You’re good at what you do, Elizabeth,” he said finally. “But guys like him… The guys we deal with…? They ain’t nice. Some of ‘em make me look like a fuckin’ alter boy. There’s a reason I try t’keep you outta that side of things, and it ain’t because I don’t trust you.
Though she was really testing that lately.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered.
She didn’t know this guy they’d connected with had a reputation for being one of the worst.
He nodded. There was a lot of blame to go around; it was one of the reasons he’d been so angry. He should have known better than to give in and take her to that meeting in the first place, putting her on that guy’s radar.
“You didn’t,” he acknowledged, “and that’s on me for not sayin’. But you’ve been doin’ this long enough t’know you can’t be so fuckin’ impulsive. We ain’t kids playin’ checkers here, sweetheart. We’re in the big leagues, and you’ve always gotta be thinkin’ five moves ahead of you wanna stay alive.
“You agreein’ to meet him behind my back like you did, thinkin’ this was somethin’ you needed t’fix…? He didn’t give a shit about your fuckin’ intentions - or your initiative. It just made him think we were weak. It made him think you and me weren’t on the same page… That there was a crack between us he could exploit.”
Worse, he’d thought she was something she wasn’t - his for the taking.
“I’m not sayin’ you deserved it - you know I’m not! - but the second you showed up there in your purple polka dotted dress, battin’ them baby blues, thinkin’ you could just wrap him around your finger, he stopped lookin’ at you as my partner - someone he needed t’respect. He smelled blood in the water, and to him, you were just some bitch he could use to get what he wanted outta me.
“He was never gonna burn the deal,” he repeated. “It was just talk, and I ignored it because I knew he was bluffing. But everything changed the second he put his hands on you. The second he marked you…? He crossed the line, and I couldn’t ignore that.
“We both know you’re a boss bitch, but puttin’ yourself in that position… not thinkin’, and not trustin’ me…? That got you in a spot you shouldn’t’ve been in, it got him killed, and it fucked our deal. He was a piece of shit, but we needed him. It’s gonna take months t’put another one together with someone new.”
From where he leaned, muscles tensed but deceptively casual against the table, he watched the wheels turn, watched her process his words. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet as he spoke. The bravado and bluster that had pushed her to find him tonight had evaporated, but he expected her to puff herself back up and get defensive now that he was done, to argue his point or deflect blame. Finding excuses for shit she’d done…? Yeah, she was real fucking good at that, too. Except, she surprised him again. Once the truth of his words sunk in, she seemed to shrink into herself. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked properly chastened. Almost defeated.
She hadn’t been ready to hear it the other night - everything had been too raw - but he was confident she was listening now, and the last of his anger dissipated. Expelling the breath he’d been holding waiting for her reaction, Rio massaged his hand across his chest, feeling something loosen.
He’d been half right tonight; he’d needed a fight, just not the one he’d thought.
Extending his hand toward her, he gestured.
“C’mere.”
It wasn’t a demand. His voice was soft, inviting, and it did the trick, coaxing her forward until she stood within arm’s reach. Shifting to stand a little straighter against the table, his left hand reached between them to capture hers. Pulling her a step closer to stand between his legs, he used his other hand to push up her sleeve, exposing her delicate wrist and the band of mottled bruising that circled her arm. Gently, reverently, he swiped the pad of his thumb across it.
He still didn’t know the whole story, but he knew enough. Thinking she was doing the right thing, she’d gone behind his back and taken it upon herself to try to smooth things over after Rio had let the guy’s threats to tank the deal slide. She’d met their new contact at Lucky’s, except, it hadn’t gone to whatever wisp of a plan she’d cooked up. Instead, the asshole had cornered her in the back hallway and grabbed her. Touched her. She hadn’t been able to talk her way out of it, and the only reason she hadn’t ended up hurt worse than she was, was because one of the staff had noticed, and checked to see if she was okay.
Rio had gone ballistic when he got his bartender’s call, filling him in on what little he knew. Charlie was getting a bonus, but the contact hadn’t been nearly so lucky when Rio tracked him down.
Neither had she.
He’d found her at home after he took care of the asshole. She’d still looked a little shaken, and when he pushed, she’d refused to talk about it beyond the basics. He knew she was hiding something - no one looked that haunted for no reason - and he’d been pissed. He knew that neither of them were in the right frame of mind to hash it out when it was all so fresh, but that hadn’t stopped him from saying a few things he’d regretted later, once he’d cooled down. He’d at least had the presence of mind to leave before either of them crossed a line they wouldn’t be able to come back from. That had been three days ago, and they hadn’t seen or talked to each other since. He knew they needed to, and he would have gone to her soon, but she’d beat him to it.
“I know I messed up,” she whispered, “and I’m sorry.”
He nodded. He knew she was, and he wasn’t about to deny she hadn’t. But he also didn’t need to pile on anymore than he already had.
Tentatively, she lifted her free hand and carefully traced the cut above his eye.
“Are you okay? You looked… You were amazing out there, the way you…” her voice trailed off, but he caught the way her pupils dilated as she remembered what she’d seen. She clearly felt some kind of way about it, and they’d definitely be talking about that later.
He smirked at her reaction and chuckled, all traces of the heaviness from earlier gone. “Yeah, darlin’, I’ll live.”
Before he could continue, he was interrupted by another rap on the door, and a sharp “Yo!” from Bruno again, this time to let him know the room was needed.
Time to go.
Releasing her hand, he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, and swiped his thumb over the dark circle under her eye, preening a little when she blinked them shut and leaned into his touch.
Attraction had never been their problem, but now wasn’t the time for that. She was tired, too. Worn out, he guessed, worrying hard about the fallout from her mistake, and stressing over working up the courage to come and face him like the boss bitch he kept telling her she was.
“C’mon.” He nudged her gently. “Let’s get out of here. You can take me home and patch me up. And if you play your cards right, I’ll even let you kiss it better.”
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and she laughed lightly, rolling her eyes.
“Idiot,” she teased affectionately, with a soft smile that gave away just how much she was looking forward to the idea.