"I know, but- aw, h.e.l.l." Bradley nodded to Wes, who went off to the little secluded area where the fighters kept to themselves, separated by a little thin card between them.

If someone had a real vendetta against him, it wouldn't be all that hard to just come right on through with a knife or a gun, and make it happen. But they wouldn't, because it would be just as easy to bring a knife into the ring.

You'd be disqualified from the fight, but n.o.body was going to jump in and save his neck. And you'd be able to show the world what happens to people you don't like.

Wes started going through his stretches, just about enough s.p.a.ce between the packed-in cars to lay out flat. He decided he was finished when he heard his name, jumped up, and headed into the ring.

The place was packed. If this really was a last-minute thing, a fight they'd added to the calendar only a week or two ago, then Wes was G.o.d d.a.m.ned surprised. They'd advertised it well in that week.

He slipped under the ring rope and raised his hand, turning to look around the crowd. For a moment, his wishful mind thought he saw Minami in that thick crowd, but he already knew better than to believe it, and when he looked again on the second turn, she wasn't there any more.

The j.a.panese came next. This wasn't some big Sumo mother f.u.c.ker like the last one. He might have been five-seven and a buck fifty, but you could count the muscle fibers in his shoulder if you had enough time on your hands.

The crowd exploded when he hit. Wes didn't recognize his name, but then he never would. These guys were n.o.bodies to him, and it didn't much matter how popular they were somewhere else. It wasn't as if he was going to study match footage beforehand.

The guy bowed to him, and Wes bowed back, not wanting to be rude. Then they were separated to their corners, and the ring girl raised her hand, held it up for a long second, and then dropped it. Wes started moving immediately, circling around. His eyes and his feet were his most important weapons. Keep his hands up.

Don't let the mother f.u.c.ker hit his nose. Don't let him get behind, don't let him-Wes amended the long list of things he needed to make sure he didn't do to 'don't get hit bad.'

The guy moved a little stiffly. Traditional martial arts had that problem, most of the time. They're not quite as used to someone who just circles. Well, that would work in his advantage, if he kept it up.

Still, for the guy's stiff movements, he didn't move so stiffly that Wes could get more than a step or two ahead of him. Nowhere near to getting an unprotected side. Even as Wes turned, he waited for the little guy to fire off a shot, show what he was made of, but he seemed to be just as patient.

The crowd usually got sick of that kind of fight fast, but these just kept themselves quiet. The entire atmosphere was electric. Wes stepped in, easily within range of a mid-kick from the guy, but darted out an instant later. No response.

Wes was beginning to wonder what was up with this guy. He stepped in again, took a step to the side... stepped in, one of his hands tightening for a stiff jab right into the j.a.panese's eyebrow.

The guy slipped the punch easily and shot his fist straight toward Wes's chest. Wes dropped his left hand and knocked the blow aside narrowly, the guy's big, pointed knuckles catching the edge of his ribcage and deflecting off harmlessly.

So that was how this was going to be played. The guy was quick, and he was waiting for Wes to make the first move. His entire game plan relied on it. Wes preferred counter-punching. Most of the American fight organizers like to get big brawlers for these things. Guys who end fights in one big sloppy punch.

Well, the answer to that routine was always counters. Countering was in Wes's blood by this point. In his D.N.A. But now he was going to have to undo that.

He took a step, and then the instant his weight was down on his right leg he darted back again and shot in close and tight to the little j.a.panese, wrapping a thick arm around the guy's chest and bringing his knees up and in, hard into the guy's ribs.

The j.a.panese didn't panic for a moment, bringing his fist around in a wide arc to slam hard into Wes's side. The American groaned out his agony, swallowed his pride and his pain, and stepped back, moving his grip to the j.a.panese fighter's head and sending a knee up towards him, using all his might to pull that head so it was on a collision course with his knee, a hit that connected and sent the j.a.panese stumbling back a few steps.

His nose poured out blood down his mouth and down his face, sending the signal to everyone who cared to see that he'd taken a hit that meant something.

The blow in Wes's side ached already, an unpleasant sign of things to come. Still, he had to have come out at least equal from that encounter. The j.a.panese, however, didn't show any particular damage from the attack, taking his stance again.

If it wasn't for the blood coming from his nose, Wes wouldn't have known that he'd been hit the entire fight, where Wes could already feel his breathing coming harder. How was he supposed to win this fight, anyways?

The j.a.panese waited for him once again. An impa.s.sible wall that Wes had no way to defeat other than to figure out what was letting this guy kick his a.s.s so completely. He took a deep breath, feeling the sharp, stabbing pain that came with the deepest part of that breath, and forced himself to slow down.

He had to win this fight, but if the crowd didn't like it... well, it didn't matter. He wasn't going to be coming back here again. It didn't matter that the crowd didn't love the fight, as long as he got paid and kept his feet under him.

Thirty-Nine.

Minami Minami watched the fight with her hands half in front of her eyes, and when Wes took the hard wallop in the side, she knew that she had made a mistake coming to the fight at all. He'd be alright if she just waited at his apartment.

He was a fighter. This was normal for him, the same thing he did every day practically. But watching fights, really watching them, that wasn't her thing. Especially when the other guy was obviously a talented karateka.

She took in a deep breath and forced her hands into her lap, stood up, and shouted out. "Wes! Kick his a.s.s!"

He must have heard her voice, because he turned just for an instant. She repeated the shout again. This time he didn't turn, but she could see the way that he reshaped his shoulders, forced himself back into good posture. He knew she was there, and that was all she'd hoped to accomplish by shouting out for him.

He went back to circling, his legs less spritely than they had been. If he was going to win this, he'd have to figure something out.

The karateka stepped in closer as well, daring Wes to attack. When he didn't, the j.a.panese formed up and waited for the attack that was sure to come in time.

Wes went in with a low kick, which the karateka took on the thigh seemingly without noticing. The two continued their circling, watching each other, neither giving nor asking any quarter.

Wes ducked his head, then and when he brought it back up he brought a heavy fist up with it. The j.a.panese weaved his head back and then suddenly spun and a high kick arced seemingly out of nowhere, clipping Wes hard on the ear. Minami shouted out her disapproval, a feeling under her skin making her feel as if she'd taken the blow herself.

"Watch out!"

The fight continued that way. Wes went in, tried to attack, and missed. The Karateka hit another hard blow, but not hard enough to knock Wes to the concrete.

Wes swallowed down breaths hard, one of his eyes starting to swell shut from where the kick had been reinforced with a back-fist to the eye.

"What are you doing! Kill him!"

The shout coming from the crowd came loud and hot, and Minami found herself shouting along with them, words of encouragement and pleading, begging Wes to find something inside himself to win the fight that had gone so badly against him so far.

Minami watched in slow motion as the next attack coming from Wes sailed wide as the j.a.panese moved back at the last instant, another high, arcing kick catching Wes right in the face. Wes crumpled to his knees, like someone had cut the marionette's strings, and for a moment she thought the fight was over.

The j.a.panese took a long, loping step and started to throw a wide, spinning kick that would ensure the ending, the first aggressive thing he'd done the entire fight. Wes slumped lower, sending the kick sailing high. The fight was over- Or, wait. At the last instant, Wes's arms wrapped around the pivot foot, and then he rolled himself over, sending the j.a.panese to the ground. Wes pulled himself back up to his feet, still clutching at that ankle and twisting.

The j.a.panese kicked up his other foot, caught Wes with a hard heel to Wes's sternum, but he didn't let go. In fact, he wrenched hard, as if he was trying to snap the foot off, and the j.a.panese groaned out his pain and turned over to try to alleviate the pain.

Wes let out a roar and brought a foot down heavy on the j.a.panese fighter's hip, adding insult to injury, and started wrenching harder. When he finally let go, the j.a.panese took a second to try to recover himself, and in that moment Wes moved over and took a firm two-handed grip on the j.a.panese fighter's hand, pulled up, and sat down.

The sick cracking sound went through the crowd, deep down into Minami's bones. The screams of pain that followed weren't nearly so biting, nearly so deep inside her, didn't effect her nearly so much as that sound of the man's elbow shattering.

His shouts of 'give, give' barely made a dent in her. Minami let out a long, unsteady breath, the violence before her an alarming display that she couldn't begin to understand or cope with. Minami pushed herself up from the folding chair and started to move toward the edge of the crowd. Wes could find her out in the parking lot, because she couldn't stay here, not one second longer.

Minami gulped down air, trying to find the strength to stay standing, the sight of the smaller man's arm snapping, the way that the awful crack went through the crowd...

Wes found her a while later, sitting on the floor and trying not to think about anything.

"Are you okay?"

She looked up at him, saw the way that even after several minutes he was breathing hard, the way that his arms hung limply at his sides-nothing like the way that he'd looked before.

"You need to get to a hospital, Wes."

"This?" He gestured with his eyes down at his broken and bruised body. "Nah. I'll be fine."

"I'm serious-you look bad."

"Not as bad as the other guy, though."

Minami's eyes shot closed and she tried desperately not to think about it. "No, not as bad as him."

Wes reached down to help her up, but Minami thought that he looked like if she blew on him too hard, he might fall over. She took his hand but didn't use it to support her on the way up.

Minami guided him into the pa.s.senger seat of his car, took his keys and started driving him back to his apartment. They drove in silence a while, until finally Wes broke the silence.

"What about your father?"

"I told him."

"Good for you." He laid his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. "He's not coming after me again, is he?"

"No."

Wes smiled. "Good to know. I was serious, you know-about what I said. I want to marry you. I don't have a ring, yet, but..."

"I know you were serious, Wes. And when you're ready to ask me to marry you, I will."

She didn't have to look over to see the smile across his face, but when she did, it still felt good.

"So you're out of the old man's house, huh?" Minami nodded without taking her eyes off the road. "Then you should know-I have trouble. My sister, back in New York. She's..."

Minami nodded, reaching across the divider in the car and taking Wes's hand.

New York, huh? She could do with a change of location. And if Wes was willing to go back, it would at least be nice to meet his family-just once.

Hopefully it wouldn't be so bad as his meeting with hers had gone. She squeezed his hand again before putting both hands back on the wheel.

"When do we leave?"

Rogue Lover Contemporary Romantic Suspense Amy Faye Published by Heartthrob Publishing If you want news about new novel releases, you can sign up for my mailing list here: http://eepurl.com/cmQY05

Here's a preview of the s.e.xy love story you're about to read...

"Shut up and kiss me."

Roy did as he was told, pulling her up to set her on the counter. The way he did it was like she didn't weigh more than a bowling ball. She scooted her hips up to help him get the sweatpants off, and then he was kissing her again, holding her head up with one hand as his other explored her body.

His dancing fingers found their way to her core, his palm pressing against her mons as his fingers spread her folds and teased the hard, pleasurable nub at the top. A spasm shot through her, shooting her eyes open wide for an instant before she let them slip closed again.

He started to probe her depths, finding them already slick with arousal, and then curled his fingers, stirring up pleasure that Erin hadn't felt in any of the exploration she'd done of her own body before.

She tried to catch her breath, tried to regain her composure. Roy added another finger and kept stroking that spot inside her, her body tightening, her back betraying her and offering her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to him in spite of her embarra.s.sment.

He let her head down just slowly enough to avoid banging into the mirror behind her, and then yanked her sweater up.

"G.o.d, you have great t.i.ts," he growled, his voice ragged with arousal.

"No I don't." She could barely get the words out, as his fingers continued to take her breath away from her.

"Shut up," he commanded, and she couldn't argue with him any more. He pulled the o.r.g.a.s.m forcibly out of her and left her pooled up on the counter for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and carrying her out of the bathroom and dropping her a.s.s-first onto the bed.

"You're sure about this?"

Erin answered by pulling her legs apart a little more for him. He took one ankle in his hands and lifted it over his shoulder, then lined himself up against her waiting lips and slid inside.

G.o.d, she hadn't-this was-she couldn't find words to describe any more. She could feel his c.o.c.k jerk with every deep thrust inside, could feel him hitting her perfectly, deep enough that it almost hurt. His c.o.c.k stretched her just to the point of pain, the spiral of feelings and emotions driving Erin absolutely crazy.

Reason tumbled off a cliff, and the delicious feeling of oblivion right around the corner, about to overtake her, forced her hips to push back against him, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the hotel to harmonize with a voice of pleasure that sounded remarkably like her own.

Roy pulled hard on her nipples and hit her again right where she needed it, and then her entire body tensed up as an o.r.g.a.s.m ripped through her. She could feel his rhythm getting erratic, as well, as he got close. She could feel him much more closely, now, as her body tried to learn every nook and cranny of his c.o.c.k in the time it took for her o.r.g.a.s.m to subside.

When he finally slid into her, jabbing against something deep inside her, one last time and started to c.u.m, she felt another shock of pleasure run through her, prolonging the o.r.g.a.s.m another precious few seconds as he twitched with each potent, ropy shot of c.u.m.

He looked at her for a long moment before leaning down and kissing her.

"Is it always like that?"

Roy smiled at her. "More or less."

"Can you fit in my suitcase, then? I need to take you home with me."

He moved his still semi-hard c.o.c.k inside her and stoked the fire inside her that she'd thought had died down after her o.r.g.a.s.m.

"No, not quite. But I've still got plenty of time left in the day."