Fight for Her by Kelly Favor (classic children's novels txt) 📕

“I didn’t say I don’t appreciate it. I just said it’s not necessarily the best decision.

Right now, jobs in the field are shrinking and a lot of journalists aren’t being fairly paid for their work. Shit, the Internet’s all about Tweeting and Facebooking now. People don’t want real journalism anymore.”

Krista stared at him. Her nervousness shot through the roof, because Gunner wasn’t just gorgeous and sexy and strong and extremely charismatic. He was also really, really smart. “Getting back on track,” she said.

“We are on track, Krista.” He leaned over the table slightly, his chin angling towards her, his eyes gazing at her intently. “Look, I want to help you. If we do this whole interview thing, you’re going to have a really big scoop on your hands. I need to help guide you through this, make sure you cut a good deal for yourself.”

“But first we need to actually do the interview,” she told him. “And so far you’re asking all of the questions.”

He sat back and waved her off. “Fine, ask your questions. Go on.”

“Well,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and trying to get composed again. “Let’s start at the beginning. Why did you decide to pull out of this fight, the biggest of your entire career?”

“First of all, I don’t really look at fighting that way.”

“What way?”

“I don’t care about how big something is for my career. I don’t care if people think a fight is too small, because I take all of my opponents very seriously.”

She nodded, trying to look as though she was taking in what he was saying. “But you have to admit, your opponent for this upcoming fight is someone that people think will truly test you.”

Gunner’s jaw tensed and his shoulders seemed to tighten under his shirt. “Zane Davis is a great fighter, I take nothing away from the guy. But I didn’t pull out of this fight because I was afraid of him. That’s just not the case.”

“But does it concern you that people will believe that?” she said. “Even now, if you go on the message boards and all the sports websites—“

“I don’t go on Internet message boards and websites and try and see who thinks what about me,” Gunner interrupted. “I don’t give a shit if people think I’m afraid of Zane Davis. Those people don’t know me and their opinions don’t matter to me.”

“It’s your legacy, though,” she pressed.

“If people can’t see what kind of fighter I am from the twelve hard battles I’ve had in the UFF, than I don’t see how one more is going to make any difference.”

Krista reached for her mug and twirled it back and forth. “I suppose some would argue that this would be your defining battle. Zane Davis has proven himself to be equally dangerous, equally able to defeat the highest quality opponents, and he’s undefeated, like you.”

“But I don’t fight to define myself, and certainly not to other people.”

“So why do you fight?”

For some reason, this question seemed to stop him cold. His jaw shifted from side to side as he glared at her, and she suddenly realized that he was angry. Very angry.

“I thought you said yesterday that you agreed with my decision not to fight.” His voice was low, controlled, but beneath the calm she sensed a well of rage.

“I do agree with your decision,” she said, caught off guard. “But I’m a journalist, I need to ask the questions people want to know.”

The lie coming out of her mouth tasted worse than ever, as she saw the repulsion in his eyes. But, she knew he would be even more repulsed if he knew her real job and her true feelings.

“And these are the questions people are just dying to ask me?” he said, his voice sarcastic and bitter.

“Yes,” she answered. “I mean nobody can figure it out. You cancel on the biggest, most important fight of your career without giving any kind of an explanation.

You turn your back on the organization that helped you become rich and successful and famous. You turn your back on your fans.” She went in for the kill. “Don’t you think it makes sense to go back to Vegas and face the questions? Don’t you think it might make sense to do this one last fight and silence the critics and the doubters for good?”

“You know what I think?” he said slowly. “I think you’re just like all the other so-called journalists I’ve run across. I should’ve known better than to trust you. You don’t have real beliefs, real values, and you don’t care about what I’m going through.

You just say whatever you need to say to get the story.”

“That’s not true,” she told him.

But he was already getting up. He pulled out his wallet and threw a ten-dollar bill on the table. “That’s for coffee,” he said. “And the extra is for your gas back to Boston, Krista. I’m sure you’ll get plenty of interest from the other bloodsuckers out there who will sink their fangs into that recording you got. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

And then he was gone, and she was left alone, sitting at the table with a sick feeling, and Gunner’s half empty coffee mug staring accusingly at her.

***

The next few hours were hell. She went back to her room at the Inn and curled up under the covers, crying. She felt bad on so many levels.

She hated that she’d lied about being a journalist. Perhaps, she thought, if she’d just had the conviction and self-belief to be honest, Gunner might have actually listened to what she had to say.

And even if he hadn’t listened, she would still have her integrity. But now she didn’t have that, and she’d also blown her chance to win his trust by being so aggressive as a “journalist.”

She’d blown it on so many levels, it was sickening.

And the thing that hurt even more was that she could have sworn that she had a connection with him. Even thinking