Kicker (DS Fight Club Book 1) by Josie Kerr Read Free Book Online

me into going someplace at the last minute,” Junior grumbled. “Christ, I’m old enough to be most of these idiots’ father.”
    Junior took a drink and gagged. “I’ve got to get something else,” he said and headed to the bar.
    “Man, it’s going to take him forever.” Dig shook his head.
    “Are you kidding? He’ll be back in ten minutes. He’ll turn on the El Galán charm and get served in no time.”
    And sure enough, Junior was back with a mixed drink in less than seven minutes.
    Junior and Dig had a yelled conversation over the band, but Tig continued watching Tight Skirt until Junior tapped him on the shoulder.
    “Yeah?”
    “You realize that’s Bailey’s friend, right?”
    “What?”
    “The woman in the red dress? That’s the woman that was at Foley’s last night.”
    “You’re shitting me.”
    “No, I’m not. I’m sure it is. Her hair is just different, and she has her going-out face on.”
    Tig looked hard at the woman, and, sure enough, Junior was right: it was her.
    “Okay, Mashburn, you have to talk to her tonight. No farting around, talking to your Mama.”
    Tig perked but then slumped. The woman and man were like a well-oiled machine with their dancing. They had obviously been partners for years.
    Junior read his mind. “Tig, the dude she’s dancing with? Gay.”
    “How do you know?”
    Junior shot Tig a withering look.
    Tig swallowed hard. “You sure?”
    “Yeah, I’m sure.”
    And then the music stopped, and the band took a break.

Charlotte stood at the bar for a moment, running the cold bottle of water over her neck and cheeks, not caring at this point what the moisture was doing to her makeup.
    She gulped half the bottle down, blew out a breath, and turned around to return to Brad, who had managed to snag one of the few tables in the bar.
    And ran face first into the hard chest of a Stetson-wearing fighter.
    He caught her when she almost lost her balance, his hands firm on her upper arms, and when Charlotte looked up at his face, he treated her to a charmingly crooked smile.
    “Oh. Hi.”
    “Hey there,” he said, still grinning. “You in a hurry?”
    “I was just headed back to join my friend. . . .” Charlotte motioned her head toward the table. The cowboy’s grin faded as he glanced over at the table.
    “Oh, sweet Mary,” she heard him mutter under his breath. “He cannot fucking help himself, can he?”
    Charlotte looked at the fighter and then looked back at the table to see Brad sitting stiffly as a man with a shaved head—Junior, she thought, was his name—leaned against the table.
    “You know Brad?”
    “No, I don’t, but I’m thinking that Junior might.”
    “Oh boy,” Charlotte muttered. This night just got very interesting. She cleared her throat and made her way purposefully across the room, the wiry fighter trailing behind her.
    “Hey, Brad,” Charlotte said brightly. “Here’s your water.” She looked at Junior, who still leaned against the table, but now wore a thoughtful expression. “Junior, right? You work with Bailey’s . . . Colin.”
    Junior laughed and grasped Charlotte’s outstretched hand. “Yeah, I’m Colin’s trainer, or was, when he was still an active fighter. Nice to see you again, Charlotte. And I see you ran into Tig.” The big bald man grinned over Charlotte’s head at the fighter standing behind her.
    Tig. His name was Tig.
    “Hello, Tig.”
    “Hello, Charlotte. It’s nice to meet you.”
    “Yeah.”
    Tig grinned that goofy, sexy, crooked grin again, and Charlotte wondered how old he was. When she first saw him at Foley’s, she thought he was very young, maybe in his early twenties at the oldest; now, she wasn’t so sure.
    Charlotte heard someone clear his throat and saw Tig roll his eyes. “And that’s Dig,” he said.
    “Hey,” the very muscular, bearded fighter said with a broad grin on his face.
    “Tig . . . and Dig?” Charlotte said with amusement as she looked between the two men.
    Those two