Caged (The Defiant Kings Book 1)

Final cut day fucking sucks.

I don’t let myself get too out of control between fights anymore because cutting the weight is awful. I’d rather eat dogshit than do a twenty-pound weight cut again. Been there, done that. Won the fight. But none of that means I want to repeat that soul-crushing process, so I try to make sure I have less than that to cut during camp.

Most of it is water weight.

We all cut it, weigh in, and then start the process of rehydrating after the press junket ends.

That’s tomorrow. Two more nights before I defend my title against Maniac McGuire, and when I walk into Cade’s office, Spider Reynolds is taunting me again. This time on a national sports vlog. “What the fuck?”

Cade looks up, tells me to shut the door, then turns the TV up.

Spider’s been spouting off to anyone who’ll listen that this fight’s a joke.

That McGuire has no chance.

That it’s a soft fight because I’m scared to face a real fighter.

That my last name bought my title.

Like I haven’t spent the past five years fighting the best in this sport.

The scumbag just wants his shot. But he doesn’t want to earn it.

“How many times am I going to have to ignore this shit?” I grunt. “I’ve got no problem doing it. But at some point, I’m going to destroy this asshole.”

Cade turns the TV off, then spins back around to me. “Ignore him. He’s nothing. He’s a hack, looking for an easy way up. And he’s not getting it from you. Two more days, King. Don’t split your focus.” He eyes me carefully, and I read between the lines.

“I’m not breaking any rules, Saint.”

“That’s up for interpretation,” he argues, but there’s no heat behind his words. “Go home. I’m staying late tonight. I’ll make sure Maddie and Imogen get out of here.”

“Any word from the cops?” Kroydon Hills isn’t a huge town. We’re on the outskirts of Philly and have our own police force. The crime level is pretty damn low, considering.

I don’t understand why the hell this investigation is taking so long.

“Nah. Not yet. Sam sent over someone who upgraded the security though, so we should be good. Either way, I’m working on hiring a night manager, so none of the girls have to be here alone when they’re closing. One of the guys is staying with Imogen tonight.” He closes his laptop and rises from his chair. “Get out of here, King. Go home. Rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

When we step into the hall, my niece flies at me. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and her gangly legs around my waist. “Uncle Huddy,” Brynlee squeals.

“Hey, Brynnie. What’s shakin’?” I blow a raspberry on her cheek and squeeze.

“Hey, munchkin. What about me?” Cade reaches for his daughter, who rolls her eyes like a teenager.

“I saw you this morning, Daddy. I haven’t seen Uncle Huddy in a long time.”

Jesus, this kid has me wrapped around her little finger.

“Missed you too, sweets.” I bounce her on my hip. “Where’s your mom?”

Brynlee points toward the front desk where Scarlet and Imogen are talking.

“How was London?” I ask her about her trip to watch the Kings play, and her whole face lights up.

“We saw a real castle last week. And it was guarded by these men in funny hats who weren’t allowed to talk.” She looks at me with wide eyes, her blonde curls bouncing around her animated little face. “Like, at all,” she gasps.

“The horror,” I dramatically gasp back, then tickle her sides until her giggling fills the gym.

Her little brother, Killian, toddles over and grabs my sweats. I bend down and pick him up, then shift Brynn so they’re each on a hip. “Hey, killer.” Killian yawns in my face, then I lean over and kiss Scarlet’s cheek. “Hey, sis.”

“Mommy’s being mean. She won’t let me see you fight this weekend. I tried telling her I see you fight here all the time, but it didn’t work.”

“Brynlee,” Scarlet sighs. “We’ve been over this. You’re too young.”

Brynn pushes to be let down, then plants her feet on the ground and dramatically slams her hands on her hips. Imogen stifles a laugh behind me. “I’m almost six years old, Mom.”

I swear it’s the tone that does it.

Six going on sixteen, maybe.

Scarlet shakes her head. “The answer is no.”

“We’re going to grab dinner, Hudson. Why don’t you join us?” Scarlet looks hopeful, like she thinks I’d go out to dinner the night before weigh-ins.

Cade wraps his arm around my sister and directs her toward the door. “He’s got weigh-ins and the press tomorrow and then a fight Saturday, duchess. Let the man do what he’s gotta do tonight. He can enjoy everything else after the fight on Saturday.”

Scarlet’s pout resembles the face Brynlee made when she didn’t get her way. “Fine. But you better be at the Kings game Sunday. It’s home at one.”

She stands there, waiting for me with an expectant glare.

“Scar . . . I’ve been in training for six weeks. I’m not getting out of bed on Sunday.” She doesn’t need to know I don’t plan on being alone.

“Hudson Thaddeus Kingston.”

Killian buries his head against my chest, like he thinks he’s the one in trouble, and Brynlee oohhhs . . . “She middle-named you, Uncle Huddy. Mommy only middle-names us when we’re in trouble.”

Her innocent statement reminds me of Maddie, and a smile pulls at my lips.

Would she want to go with me to a Kings game?

She’s usually there watching her brother anyway.

Would she sit with my family? On my arm?

“Fine,” I agree. “I’ll be there.”

As if reading my mind, she asks, “Alone?”

Cade takes Killian from me, then wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “If anyone in the goddamn gym could just wait two more days before complicating my fighter’s life, it would be a miracle.”

“Daddy cursed. That’s a dollar for the swear jar.” Brynlee’s hands go back to her hips, and I laugh again.

“That swear jar is gonna put these kids through college,” Cade mumbles.

“Sure. That’s what’s gonna do it.” I ignore the pissed-off look on his face and say goodbye to my sister’s family and wonder, for one of the first times ever, if that’s actually in the cards for me.

Maddie

Hudson and Imogen are both waiting for me at the front desk once my class ends. I walk my students to the door, like always, then lock it behind me and turn to face these two goofballs, who laugh simultaneously at whatever they’re watching on Gen’s phone.

They look up as I walk toward them, and Gen pops up from her seat. “Last night of cleaning the mats. Woo hoo!”

Really? Has it only been a week?

My eyes find Hudson’s as if tethered to him by an invisible string.

It’s crazy how much can change in seven days.

“Is someone scheduled to close with you tonight, Imogen?” I thought I saw one of the guys on the updated schedule in the office earlier.

“Yup. I’m good. You two crazy kids get out of here.” She moves to the mats with the cleaner in her hand, leaving Hudson and me alone at the desk.

“I’ve got to grab my stuff from the locker room. Thanks for waiting for me.” I lower my voice. “You didn’t have to.”

His big palm runs over the back of my head before pulling on a braid. “I wanted to. We didn’t get a chance to talk today.”

Hudson follows me to the locker room, filling me in on cut day.

“That sounds awful, King.” I pull my bag out and slip my sweats on over my leggings, then turn around. Like a switch flipped, Hudson’s on me. His arms cage me in against the locker on either side of my face, and his breath tickles the sensitive skin under my ear. He’s everywhere but not physically touching me anywhere.

I ball my hands into fists at my sides.

Wanting to yank him close.

But not wanting to break the rules.

Not now.

“Hudson . . .”

His nose trails up my neck, just a whisper of a hot breath away from my skin. Burning me from the lack of touch. “Two more nights, baby.”

God. Why does that sound like the most sinful promise ever made?

I close my eyes and try to slow my racing heart. “Two more nights. You better not get hurt Saturday, King.”

He takes a forced step back and reaches for my bag. “Don’t jinx me, woman.”

He walks me to my car and opens my door. “I’m going to follow you home.”

“No. You’re not. I can drive myself home. You need to go home, eat, and rest. Please. You said it yourself. Two more days. Don’t mess it up now, when you’re so close.” I lean up on my toes and brush my lips over his cheek. “Call me tomorrow when it’s over?”

Hudson’s thumb strokes my cheekbone. “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, sunshine.” He stands there, watching me until I pull out of the parking lot. And for a reason I’m not 100 percent ready to overanalyze yet, there’s a tug on my heart when I leave him.

That tug is gone when I walk into the house a few minutes later and run right into Brandon. He steadies me with his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, slow down.”

“Sorry,” I mumble as I try to sidestep him.

I’ve managed to avoid him since the other night. Not an easy thing to do when you’re the only two people in the house. But if you can’t make it work, you’re not trying hard enough.

“Mads, come on . . . You can’t keep ignoring me.” Brandon’s voice holds an air of irritation in it.

“Pretty sure I can.” I keep moving toward the stairs until he dashes in front of me, blocking the bottom step.

“Madison, stop. I’m sorry I upset you.” Screw him for being so good at choosing his words.

“Brandon . . . you’re not sorry for your actions. You’re just sorry that I’m mad. That’s not enough.” I shove past him, steam practically raging out of my ears. “You’re not my father. We didn’t have them. You don’t get to tell me what to do. I don’t care how much older than me you are.”

He follows me into my room. The rage building between us is a living, breathing thing. “You’re kidding me, right? I’ve taken care of you your entire life. I’m not your father. I was better than him because I’m still here. I’ve never let anyone hurt you.”

I spin around, the fury simmering just beneath my skin. “And I’d trust you with my life. But I’m an adult, Brandon. You can’t treat me like a child.”

“But it’s my job,” he yells. “It’s always been my job, Maddie. And I don’t know how to stop.”

“You’ve got to take a step back, big brother. I love you. I appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me. But you’ve got to let me make my own decisions and live my own life. You can’t go talk to my boss.” I feel the tips of my nails digging into my palms from fisting them too tightly. “You don’t get to unilaterally make decisions for me. You’ve got to figure out your own life and stop getting stuck in mine.” The words are out of my mouth before I can think them through, and I immediately wish I could pull them back.

The pain shining in his eyes hurts my heart.

“Brandon . . . I didn’t—”

“No.” He steps back, his eyes blazing. “I need to get my own life straight before I can tell you how to live yours.” He walks out of my room and slams the door so hard, it bounces off the hinges.

Great.