TKO (A Bad Boy MMA Romance) by Olivia Lancaster Page B

night?”
     
                  “What? Okay, hold on, let’s take care of these tequila shots first.”
     
                  I made my way to the bar with them, chuckling to myself as they swapped the latest gossip, but the real reason to get together was to get photos for social media marketing. There really was a science to what they did, I noticed. And science, like everything else they were doing tonight, was dead boring to me.
     
                  Preferring to distance myself from the crowd of women doing tequila shots, I slipped down the bar a ways to order a beer. As I got it and turned around at the bar to check out the club, I felt watched.
     
                  From the moment I’d walked into the club, I had felt eyes all over both of us. We were the kind of people who really drew attention in a crowd, me especially, given my height. I was wearing a tight-fitting red shirt and black jeans, all designer clothing that brought out my amber eyes and black hair. My shirt was tight enough to show off the muscles I hadn’t allowed to atrophy in my short downtime, and my jeans outlined a firm ass, powerful thighs, and impeccable calves. I was proud of my body. I had every right to be. Part of my job was to draw attention.
     
                  And once I was a few feet away from Selena, that attention seemed to double. There were dozens of ambitious models just like her haunting Haze that night, and I could feel eyes roving over me.
     
                  Part of me wanted to let my eyes rove right back to meet them. Hell, at least it beat waiting around for Selena to finish her photo op with the girls. But Kenny’s advice was in the back of my mind. There was something else, too, that seemed to make me unable to feel interested in flirting around tonight, but I couldn’t quite place what it was.
     
                  As my eyes scanned the club, my gaze fell on a man seated on one of the dark leather couches on the other side of the room, and there was a woman on either side of the couch beside him.
     
                  My eyes would have passed right by him if he hadn’t been waving at me, trying to get my attention. I was surprised at first, and I furrowed my eyebrows questioningly. But the man kept gesturing for me to come closer, so I shrugged and started moving towards him.
     
                  As I walked, a few women on the dance floor tried to make their way closer to me and start putting on their moves, but I ignored them. The guy beckoning me was... a sight, to say the least.
     
                  “Hey hey hey, there he is! Man of the hour! Big bad brawler from New Mexico, getting back in action and down on the club scene already!”
     
                  His skin was pasty, and even though he was sitting on the couch, I could tell he was short. He had the kind of face that just told me he was a fast-talker, a trait that you could usually see reflected in someone’s eyes, but this guy was wearing cheap silver-rimmed sunglasses despite being in a dark room, and I knew damn well he wasn’t blind. His hair was black, but the tips were bleached and spiked straight out, making him look like a bolt of electricity. He wore a short-sleeved button-down that was dark blue, and his jeans were stark white. Despite the strange and cheap getup, he had a number of articles of jewelry on him, from rings on his fingers to the gold chain around his neck. There was a smattering of facial hair on his chin that he rubbed as he grinned at me, standing up briefly to extend a hand.
     
                  “Welcome back to the nightlife, dude!”
     
                  I almost visibly winced at the word ‘dude.’ “Do I know you?” I asked gruffly, already wanting to kick this guy’s ass.
     
                  “Straight and to the point--that’s what I like about you. Been