Page 11 of Between the Ropes

I nod, trying to keep my nerves in check. “Okay. Let’s get you set up in the chair, so I can take a look.”

As I start working on his neck, I keep my pressure light, cautious. His muscles are tight, but I can feel him relaxing under my hands, bit by bit. The room is quiet, the only sound the soft hum of conversation from the hallway outside. Kyle “the killer”Jenkins doesn’t say a word the entire time I work on him. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Usually, clients will give me a little feedback, tell me if I’m applying too much pressure or not enough, but Kyle is silent. I continue to massage his neck, hoping that what I am doing will help him get through the night. I will write up a plan for him going forward and check in with him regularly. This is something I think I can really help him with. I definitely need to take a look at his file. Especially if this injury had been a problem for a while.

The door opens suddenly, and both Kyle and I look up. Standing there is Ryan Pierce, his presence filling the doorway. Our eyes meet, and something flickers in his expression—something I can’t quite place. His gaze shifts to Kyle, and a strange look crosses his face, almost like… disgust? I’m not sure.

My breath catches, heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.

Ryan’s presence does that to me. He doesn’t even have to say anything. He justis, standing there like he owns the air in the room, his massive frame filling the doorway, every inch of him brimming with something dark and unreadable. His molten brown eyes lock onto mine, and suddenly, I feel too warm, like the temperature in the room just shot up ten degrees.

Kyle shifts under my hands, a low grunt of approval as I apply pressure to the knot near his shoulder. Ryan’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t look away from me, but his fingers curl into fists at his sides. Tension thickens the space between us, a silent charge crackling in the air.

I should say something—anything—but my throat is dry, and the words get tangled before they can even form. My fingers still against Kyle’s skin, but I force myself to keep going, pretending like I’m unaffected. Like my pulse isn’t rioting.

Ryan isn’t fooled. His eyes darken, sharp and piercing as they flick from my hands back up to my face.

Kyle, oblivious or maybe just indifferent to the storm brewing, exhales a deep sigh. “Damn, that’s good. You got magic fingers, sweetheart.”

I barely hear him. My entire world has narrowed to the man in the doorway.

Ryanknows.

And right now, he looks two seconds away from making sure everyone else does too.

8

I step into the room, and my breath catches for a split second before my eyes land onhim.

Kyle “The Killer” Jenkins.

Sprawled out in the massage chair like he owns the damn place, wearing that same smug, lazy expression that makes my fists twitch. And Natalie—fuck—she’s there, her delicate hands working over his thick neck, completely focused, oblivious to the bolt of rage tearing through me.

Ihatethat guy.

Not just in the ring. Not just for the cameras. It’s real. It’s personal.

Kyle’s the kind of guy who walks into a room and expects everyone to bow down, just because of his last name. The son ofThe Terrorizer—a legend in this business. Kyle was born into wrestling, handed a silver spoon, and served a contract on aplatter. He never had to grind. Never had to claw his way up from the dirt. He thinks this industryoweshim something.

I had to fight for every inch. I had to bleed, sweat, break bones, push through injuries, outwork every single person in that locker room just to get where I am. And Kyle? He coasts. He shows up when it’s convenient. He plays the part without putting in the work. And now, he’s sitting there withher—Natalie.

Kyle looks up, noticing me. His smirk spreads as he tilts his head slightly, like he already knows he’s getting under my skin.

“Stephen in here?” I ask, my voice sharp, cutting through the room like a blade.

Natalie’s head snaps up, startled. Her wide aqua eyes meet mine, and for a split second, I swear I see something there. Surprise? Guilt? Her lips part, like she’s about to say something, but Kyle beats her to it.

“Relax,champ,” he drawls, stretching out like he’s on vacation. “Didn’t realize you were so interested in getting your hands on me.”

His grin is infuriating. He’s baiting me. And it’s working.

I tear my gaze from him, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache. Iwon’tlet him see that he’s rattling me.

Natalie clears her throat. “No, um, Stephen’s next door.”

Her voice is soft, even, but I don’t miss the tension in it.

I nod once, tight and clipped, and walk out without another word, leaving the door open behind me. I need to get the hell out of there before I do somethingstupid, like rip Kyle apart right in front of her.

I find Stephen in the office across the hall, bent over a stack of papers. “Hey, Ryan,” he greets, looking up with a small smile. “How’s the back?”

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