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Chapter One
AVA
Warrior’s Den Training Facility
Sunridge, Illinois
Now was my chance. I gathered my breath before raising my cell phone in the air. “Mr. McKenzie, can you tell us about your upcoming fight with Liam O’Connor?”
I kept my thumb on the microphone icon so it would record everything Ryder “Thunder” McKenzie, Fury Combat heavyweight champion, said during this press conference. I made sure my voice was loud enough to carry over the hum of the AC and the camera shutters as photographers snapped photo after photo of the reigning mixed martial arts champ.
Ryder’s hazel eyes met mine with a naughty flicker. “Technically, Ms. Martinez, I can, but I don’t think I will.” A flippant smirk lifted a corner of his mouth.
Chuckles filled the cramped space of the gym’s conference room. I made a grumbling sound under my breath. No, Ryder, that wasn’t cute. My face remained fixed, stoic. Although I was not happy he didn’t answer my question, I refused to look away in embarrassment or shuffle behind the male reporters. For two weeks, I’d been here on assignment for one of the leading sports networks to get an exclusive on Ryder, and I refused to leave my little hometown of Sunridge, Illinois empty-handed.
I came from hardy cornfed Midwestern stock, mixed with a heaping, healthy dose of bright Black Alabama roots. It was not in me to give up easily. So Ryder could take his Jersey Boy sarcasm elsewhere.
“Next question.” Ryder’s attorney decided to play referee. He pointed to a local news reporter to go next.
Meanwhile, Ryder locked eyes with me from across the conference table. I straightened in my seat as our nonverbal exchange made heat simmer in my stomach. Did he have to be annoying and attractive?
His brown hair framed his chiseled face in messy waves. As his bold gaze continued to rake over me, penetrating the thick fabric of my blazer, I caught a glimpse of the famous charisma he exuded in the ring.
And something else. Was it my imagination, or was there a spark of lust I saw in his eyes? The room charged with electricity the more he looked at me. Despite his sarcastic demeanor towards my question, I couldn't shake the feeling there was more unspoken beneath the surface.
Ryder’s lips twitched, hinting at a secret amusement only he knew. We’d done this staring contest for the past two weeks, and I could never look away, even though I felt as though all my inner thoughts were being read aloud by him. There was more to him than at first glance. Beneath the tough exterior and the quick-witted banter, there was a hidden depth, a magnetic pull drawing me in despite my better judgment.
His body wasn’t bad either. But I darn sure wasn’t about to focus on his fighter physique right now. I pushed at the sleeve of my blazer, getting uncomfortably warm as the wool rubbed against my arm.
The press conference carried on. I scribbled notes while keeping my finger on the record button on my phone. Yet another day trying to crack the code that was Ryder. I imagined breaking into a Siberian seed vault was easier than getting through to him. Maybe I should’ve gotten into geopolitics reporting instead of sports analysis to make my comeback.
“That’s all I got for today.” Ryder stood up from his seat. He ignored the requests for him to answer more of our burning questions.
I huffed as I grabbed my laptop bag and phone, ready to trail Ryder around the gym again. Athletes and their egos could be just like Hollywood celebrities. Goodness knows I didn’t want to delve into that world again.
I shuffled past the camera crews, almost tripping over an extension cord. I made it out of the conference room in one piece and searched for Ryder. He walked towards the men’s locker room. With his ring-honed speed, he ducked inside before I even had a chance to go after him.
RYDER
I DASHED INTO THE MEN’S locker room, eager to get a breather from all the noise from the reporters out there. One of their faces stayed latched in my mind. Ava’s persistence was both annoying and admirable.
For weeks, that five-eleven firecracker followed me around the gym, trying to get the scoop on my training and routines. I understood; she was a sports journalist doing her job.
But damn, did she have to be so nosy? Especially at a time when I couldn’t afford to be distracted. My contract was about to end with the league in a couple weeks. I’d be a free agent if they didn’t renew. I had to get another contract fast so I could keep funding my dog shelter, where I helped train service dogs for vets and the disabled.
The shelter meant the world to me, as much, if not more, than fighting. If I let Ava know about it, she’d probably think it was boring. She came here to cover the flashy side of MMA, not hear me go on about the dogs I trained in my spare time.
I guess that had always been part of my job, giving people what they wanted. Time for me to do the same for Ava. Yet something about her made me want to straighten up and hide the grittier parts of myself.
I splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my head. I watched water drip down my face in the mirror. There I was, Ryder McKenzie, heavyweight champ of Fury Combat, hiding in the locker room to avoid talking to a pretty and stubborn female journalist.
Great job, tough guy.
I couldn't avoid Ava forever. It was time to answer her questions, if only to figure out what angle she was playing. I toweled off and headed out to the gym floor.
Sure enough, she was still there, scribbling in one of those expensive leather notebooks like she owned the place. Her long, lean legs were crossed at the ankle while she leaned against the wall. "You again," I quipped. For some reason, I enjoyed teasing her.
"Hey, tough guy," she retorted, raising an eyebrow. "Finally decided to talk to me?"
