Trigger: An Alpha Bad Boy MMA Romance by Simone Scarlet MMA

year ago.”
    “So on eBay? Maybe it’s worth $500. Probably less.” Red snorted. “I mean, I’ll take it… but you’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to keep your pop’s legs unbroken for another week.”
    A hot flash of anger enveloped me.
    “Why, you…”
    I started to get up from the armchair.
    Red laughed, and held up his hands in mock surrender.
    “Steady on, fella. I’m more interested in gettin’ paid then hurtin’ your pappy. Let’s talk.”
    I paused, half in and out of my seat, and Red continued:
    “You’re a feisty one, ain’tcha?” As his grin widened, he leaned forward and purred: “How about this – I’ll fight you for it.”
    I blinked.
    “You’ll what ?”
    “I’ll fight you for it. The watch, I mean. You win, I’ll keep it, and wipe a grand off your dad’s debt. You lose?” He snorted. “Well, you’d better by some grapes for when you visit him in hospital tomorrow.”
    I was trembling with anger now – my fingers digging into the leather armchair.
    But then I looked at him – the bearded, broad-shouldered son-of-a-bitch sitting across from me.
    He said he’d fight me for it? Fuck, I could take him . He looked like a roadie, not a roughneck. Sure, he was muscular enough – but the guy had a pot-belly and scrawny little forearms. He’d fold like a pack of cards.
    “’Course, you wouldn’t be fightin’ me .”
    I should have seen that one coming.
    “Yo, Roy!” Red shouted over the big bouncer looming behind us – the red-faced, pig-snouted goon in the too-tight suit. “You wanna make five hundred extra bucks tonight?”
    The bouncer called Roy stepped onto the dias, and it groaned under his bulk.
    “Shit, y’know I do, boss.”
    “Well,” Red asked. “You think you could take this rangy son-of-a-bitch?”
    Roy looked at me like junkyard dog – metaphorically sniffing my ass to see who was the alpha of the pack. He looked me up and down, and I knew he was appraising my height, weight, and the reach of my long, powerful arms.
    Clearly, he underestimated me.
    “Sure,” the big bastard grunted. “I can take him.”
    Red grinned.
    He practically bounded off the sofa. Clapping his hands, the bearded cowboy crossed the dias to a microphone stands, and as he picked it up he drowned out the band still wailing in the corner.
    “Attention, ladies and gentlemen!”
    The band stopped playing. A hundred pairs of eyes turned to face the dias, where Red stood addressing the crowd.
    He grinned, clearly loving being the center of attention.
    “For your entertainment,” Red grinned, “we have another impromptu fight for you.”
    Apparently this sort of thing was common enough at Ol’ Smokey’s, because the crowed roared in approval.
    “Ten minutes, in the parking lot out front. Good ol’ boy Roy,” he gestured his lumbering bouncer, “will be facin’ off against none other than a bona fide MMA legend.”
    Red turned, and gestured to me.
    I climbed awkwardly out of my seat – suddenly aware of a see of eyes boring into me.
    “Straight from New York, it’s MMA League heavyweight Travis ‘Trigger’ Oates,” Red grinned. “And you’re gonna see him fight right here , right now .”
    The crowd screamed in approval, and the walls practically shook with their screams and hollers.
    “So whaddya say, Trigger,” Red grinned, turning to me. “You ready to earn some motherfuckin’ money?”

Chapter Twenty Two
     
    Roxy
     
    “You don’t have to do this.”
    I was struggling to keep up with Travis, as he was led through the crowd of bikers and truckers towards the back door of the old bar.
    “Travis!” I shouted, reaching out to tug at one of his arms. “I’m seriously. Don’t do this .”
    Travis paused, and spun around.
    He towered over me, eyes burning intently, and for a moment my stomach flipped – either from fear, or arousal. Or both.
    “Of course I have to do this, Roxy,” Travis growled, as the crowd gathered around us. “If I