by E. M. Moore
I pick up the bra and shorts and head into the attached bathroom. The whole area is one space. The bathroom doesn’t have a door, just a walkway into a separate room. It’s also ten times nicer than what we had at the warehouse. I peel my clothes off then stare at myself in the mirror over the sink. My eyes look dead today. You ever just stare at yourself and wonder what’s going on in your head? I’ve had years of experience of staring at myself in mirrors, searching for my parents’ reflections. Searching for pieces of them they may have passed on to me. But right now, I can honestly say I don’t even look like myself.
I glance away and tug on my fighting outfit. Afterward, I pull my hair back into a tight ponytail and then braid it, wrapping two elastics around the ends, so it won’t let loose during the fight. My stomach tightens after I finish, realizing that every little thing I do is only taking me toward the inevitable. With a huge breath, I walk out to do my pre-fight stretches. There’s no point in getting any more injured than I need to by pulling a muscle because I didn’t put my all into the fight, even though I already know how it’s going to turn out.
A knock sounds on the door, and Magnum opens it. A guy I recognize from the warehouse sticks his head in. “The fight before yours is about to wrap up. You’ll be on soon.”
I nod with a sickening twist to my insides. I’m not sure I’ve ever not wanted to do something so much in my entire life. Something that I knew I had to do, but didn’t want to, and it’s fucking killing me. I’ve had mini pep talks with myself all day about picking up my ovaries and doing what needs to be done, but I still come right back around to the simple fact that I don’t want to.
I just don’t fucking want to.
The guy leaves, and Magnum walks toward me. He moves my chin, so I look up into his hazel-green eyes. “Focus.”
I nod.
“Future.”
I nod again, threads of steel spreading out to harden my veins. Johnny moves to my back, pressing close to me as he massages my shoulders. I stretch my neck from side-to-side while he digs his fingers in. “Have I told you lately that I think you’re perfect?”
Magnum moves in from the front, and suddenly, I’m in a Magnum-Johnny sandwich, each pressing against me, their body heat breaking through the tension and flowing through me.
My mouth parts, and Jacob takes advantage, swooping down to press his lips to mine. Johnny drops his head to kiss the curve of my neck, and suddenly, my mind is preoccupied in a completely different way. I moan, relishing in the love from all sides, not wanting it to end.
Before it can get too far, Jacob pulls away, pinning me with his gorgeous stare. Johnny works his lips up my neck. “You have a lot to look forward to, babe.”
A shiver runs through me. If they’re promising me an incentive, this might be... No, it’s still going to suck, but I’ll take it as a recuperation present.
Johnny reaches over to grab my robe off the bench and helps me put it on. Magnum pulls it closed in front, hands lingering near my hips. “Remember how much he cares for you,” he says, his voice a little off from his usual sure tenor.
“I know,” I tell him, giving him a small smile. I create some space between us all, so I can continue my stretches. I get another five minutes before the same guy returns to lead me to the middle of the ring. My dry throat sticks, so I swallow the thin air as I walk out after him. My robe billows out, but I can’t even enjoy it because I’m so focused on what’s waiting for me when I get out there.
Johnny and Magnum follow after me, but I may as well be by myself. I block out everything I’ve built here and focus on the insurmountable task ahead of me.
The crowd’s excitement level ratchets up when they first see me. It allays some of the nerves, but frays others. Johnny and Magnum act like bodyguards beside me, but people still get their hands in to brush against my skin. I hardly notice. The arena drowns out. I see them, their mouths open, their hands raised while I walk down the path to the middle of the room, but I don’t hear them. My mind works on overtime to mute it all out.
I almost stumble when I walk into the circle to find Brawler step out at the same time I do. He’s so fucking handsome. I thought so the first time I saw him. He’s even hotter now that he’s got fighting shorts on, a bare-chest, and fists clenched like he wants to beat the shit out of something.
I bite my lip, eerily aroused by the scene in front of me. His eyes are more of a cobalt blue today, not the swirling turquoise I’m used to seeing. The ink on his body appears darker, more pronounced. The tribal tattoos swim up his arm as if moving while he shakes his hands out. The angel wings on his neck are alive, beating life’s blood into him.
I’ve only ever seen Brawler fight once. From up in the Crew box in the warehouse. Sure, I’ve seen him train a bunch of times, but this will be something. I’d kill to have a spot front row, watching him tear into somebody.
The crowd roars. The nameless, faceless people around us are literally just that: nothing. Their faces are all striated and muted, like nothing matters but Brawler in front of me.
The guy who’s taken over for Brawler for the night steps into the middle of the circled area. Real bleachers rise up along the circle, reaching all the way to the ceiling. It’s so hot in here, my skin already sticky with sweat. Gone is the smell of stale beer from the warehouse, even though alcohol is still all around. They’ve just gotten fancier. It’s not just cheap beer, it’s mixed drinks and shots too. One of these days, I’ll have to come to the fights just as a spectator. Wouldn’t that be nice?
“For your final fight on this opening day,” the guy shouts amidst a chorus of screams. “Uppercut Princess versus Brawler!” He draws Brawler’s name out and goosebumps skitter over my expectant skin.
He nods at both of us and backs away.
Right. So, this is it. This is one moment that will define my life. It’s odd to know it before it even happens, and not just look back at it years later and pinpoint the very second things changed. I already know the first blow will change things. It’s just up to Brawler and me to fix it later.
I treat the fight like training at first. I creep in, just as I would do if we were in Jax and Finn’s boxing ring. I look for his tells. I plan my attack. When the first opportunity comes, I don’t take it.
Fuck.
I shake it off, circle around him and start again. Brawler looks just as content to do this with me, play with each other, but it won’t work. My gaze darts up. Like with the warehouse, a special boxed area for the Crew sits atop everything else. It’s fancier, but what fills it is the same. Big Daddy K is front and center in the window. Johnny is next to him, fists clenched at his side, but it’s K who grabs all of my attention. He’s leering, a half-smile on his face is more predatory than anything. He’s the perfect representation of an enemy in beautiful clothing.
I lick my lips and focus back on Brawler. I send a silent thought up, hoping he’ll forgive me for this, and then I head in. I attack first because I know he won’t. If any one of the guys is too good for me, it’s him. Hell, it’s not just me. He’s too good for the Heights. He’s too good for most things. He’s been through the shit that has taught him who he wants to be.
He’s just...fuck. He’s good. Not halo worthy, obviously. None of us are, but he’s just…good. There’s no other word for it.
He blocks my punches and attacks with some teasing ones of his own. Just like he would in training, telling me he could’ve got me if he wanted.
I smile at him, and he smiles back.
Fighting someone you train with is difficult. They know you. They know your style, and I’m not even counting the fact that neither one of us actually wants to hurt the other. It means I have to do something unconventional.
I run at him. He’s stunned, pausing briefly. I plant my foot on his thigh, grab his shoulder, and glance an elbow off his head. I didn’t throw it as hard as I could have, but the audience loves it.
Brawler throws me off. His gaze narrows now, and I wonder if I’
ve poked the beast.
We circle again. Oscar yells his name, followed by, “Do it!”
He comes in, catching me in the chin. His hands are heavy, powerful, like fucking sledgehammers. I’m impressed and pissed at the same time.
Listen, taking the fight out of a fighter is a hard feat. Brawler’s standing in front of me, and I know that, but that doesn’t mean I want to get punched in the face.
I give him a few body shots to his perfect abs, and he retaliates with a backfist to my cheek.
I have to bite my lip, a mixture of emotions swimming through me. Most of them contradict each other. I’m mad. I’m embarrassed. I’m…proud of him.
I grin, loosening my fists to go in for another attack. I give him a couple of jabs to the mouth. He captures my arm, kicks my feet out from underneath me and slams me to the floor. I grunt on impact. It really sucks to go down hard on a cement floor like this.
Brawler doesn’t immediately pounce on me, which tells me he’s doing this with love. God, I love the big guy. I blink at the ceiling a few times to get my bearings back and then kick to my feet in one movement. The spectators in the front row stand, appreciating that little maneuver. Actually, after that, everyone in the room stands in a ripple effect. It’s that part of the fight where you know you’re about to get your money’s worth.
Brawler throws a roundhouse to my legs. It hits me in the calf and stings. Adrenaline lessens some of the pain during the fights, but for some reason, kicks can be different. Especially well-placed kicks like the one he just threw.
I stomp kick him in the gut, earning a grunt from his lips. We circle each other again, acutely aware that this fight is taking a while now. Everyone is foaming at the mouth to see what happens. Brawler can feel it too. His eyes start to change because we can no longer play with each other. We have to get this done, and it’s going to kill both of us to do it.
I give him a slight nod, barely imperceptible, as I move in. As before, I know he would never make the first move, so I crack him in the nose. When I retreat, blood drips from his nostrils, and my heart cracks in two.
He licks his lips, a different kind of armor locking into place around his body. He goes from cold mask to even colder mask. A spike of fear hits me.
Brawler moves forward. I throw up blocks to ward off his punches. I do just enough so it looks as if I’m trying to stop his attack, but the first time his fist connects with my face for real, I don’t have to pretend anymore.
The room goes out of focus. He hit me in the right spot. I stumble and shoot for a takedown to make up for the fact that my brain is haywired right now. I must catch him off guard because I’m able to wrap him up. I land on top of him, but he flips me to my back immediately. He catches me in side hold, working for position. I struggle against him, but Brawler is heavy. He’s bigger than me. Stronger than me. Let’s not forget, he’s also a better fighter than me. Listen, I’m good. I hold my own against people, but Brawler’s better. Especially when my head is still ringing from the last hit he gave.
I get out of his side hold and ease into his guard. He postures, swinging his fist down at my face.
My eyes swim. I gaze up at him through fractured vision, and I catch the moment something inside him breaks.
He pulls back.
No. No.
I use my legs to pull him back toward me, wrapping him in a hold like fighters do when they want to get their breathing under control. I hold him until it’s just us two. Hearts crashing against our rib cages. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I say. “Finish it. It’s the only way.”
He growls into my ear, and it probably looks like a sound of annoyance to everyone else.
I give him an elbow to the cheek. It’s weak though. Partly because I’m fucking tired, and partly because he’s supposed to be winning this fight. He will win this fight.
Then I pull him back down, his face crashing against my chest. “I love you. It’s okay.”
The world goes blank after that. His fist connects with my temple, and I’m out.
I’ve lost consciousness in a fight before. It was one of my first ones. It lasted only seconds, waking before I even fell to the ground, but I was so terrified. This time, I must be out for longer because when I come to, I’m in Mag’s arms. He drags me away from the circle.
I blink, and in front of me, Jiko faces off with Brawler.
What the fuck?
34
“The fuck...” I drawl, actually voicing my confusion at seeing two fighters in the ring where I should be.
No one seems to notice me being dragged off, and Magnum doesn’t say a word at first.
“What happened?”
“You’re okay,” Jacob says.
“I know,” I grind out. “What the fuck happened?”
He hauls me to my feet, his corded arms wrapped around my middle as we watch Brawler and Jiko go at it.
Jiko’s dressed in a low-slung pair of joggers and no shirt. My initial thoughts about him when he held pads for me the other day were correct. Dude’s good.
But he’s no match for Brawler.
I glance up into the VIP box. K leans over, trying to get a better view. Johnny’s eyes are on me, and I give him a quick nod to let him know I’m okay.
“What happened?” I ask again as Brawler’s fist connects with Jiko’s cheek.
“He came out of nowhere,” Mag answers. “Brawler was reeling back to hit you again, and Jiko just tackled him off you. Started calling him out.”
The crowd around us is going nuts. They’re loving every second of this unscheduled fight. They’re clearly on Brawler’s side. Someone in the front row even pushes Jiko closer to Brawler, who takes advantage of the situation by landing a solid knee to his midsection.
Brawler’s on fire, and I might be a little fuzzy, but I can tell the difference in him. His whole demeanor has changed. He’s hitting for damage, and Jiko’s face complies. He splits his eyebrow open with a hook that just glances. The kind of punch that’s great for opening someone up using your knuckles.
“Come on,” Mag says, trying to lead me away.
I shake my head and hold back. “No, I’m watching this.”
“You were just out cold.”
“I’m fine,” I promise, shrugging him off me.
The amount of energy coming off the crowd makes goosebumps sprout on my arms. The feral shouts switch something in me, and I’m yelling with them. “Get him! Come on!”
Okay, I might still have an axe to grind with the way Jiko backstabbed Johnny. I am loving this. I could watch this all damn day.
Brawler gets hit in the mouth. He smiles, showing off blood-stained teeth. He looks like a killer out there, hunting his prey. He’s dominating. That’s not to say he’s not getting tagged, but he moves through the punches. Takes one to give five.
Behind me, Magnum’s low voice creeps in through the screams around us. I glance back to find him on the phone.
The crowd erupts, and I turn to find Brawler wailing on Jiko as he falls to the ground. I start jumping, excitement barreling through me. “Yes!!”
“Fuck!” Jacob yells. Suddenly, I’m being dragged away. I try to put the brakes on as Brawler gets to his feet, but Magnum stops me. “We have to leave.”
I finally pull away from him right before the door that leads to the dressing rooms. “What’s going on?” I grind out.
I turn to face him, and the look on his face is pure panic. Eyes wide and bloodshot. Gaze darting everywhere into all corners of the packed room.
Before he can explain, the pop, pop, pop from an automatic weapon goes off. Frightened screams fill the area, quickly turning from excitement to fear. An avalanche of bodies rush down from the bleachers and Mag pulls me just under them to shield me, making me crouch. “Stay down,” he orders.
I grip part of the metal underbelly of the bleachers. “What is it?” I ask, even though I already know.
He creeps out from under the bleachers and then darts back. “Cole just
called me. He told me something was about to go down. We need to get out of here.”
He starts to move toward me, but I move just out of his way. “Brawler’s out there! And Oscar and Johnny! We’re not going anywhere.”
Magnum sighs, then reaches into his pockets and takes out the keys to the car. “Take the back hallway. Get to the car and leave. Don’t look back.”
I stare at him, pushing his hand back toward him. Another round of gunfire fills the space amidst more cries, and we both duck. A cluster of people run by us, searching for any way out. I’m about to head toward the bleacher opening when two people come careening through the aisle, masks of terror on their face. The one closest to us falls. Dead eyes peer back at me, but the other body ducks inside, and I meet a pair of blue eyes that make my heart leap.
I can’t even make my mouth move. I grab for him, and he scrambles under the bleachers with us. We crouch low.
“Who is it?” Mag asks, pulling his gun out, holding it in front of him.
“Never seen him before,” Brawler says. His bare chest heaves. Red splatters adorn his side, blood spray from when the person running next to him got shot. “There are a few though. I saw three. Two started going toward the box.”
My stomach turns over. If I’d eaten before the fight, I’d have upheaved everything right in front of me.
“Oscar?”
“I don’t know where he went,” Brawler pants. “Everyone dove for the ground. I couldn’t see.”
Mag looks at both of us, snarling at our fighting attire. Neither Brawler nor I have any weapons. “Fuck.”
More screaming ensues, sending shivers through me. The pure terror in their voices sends panic jolting through my limbs.
“I’m going out there.”
Magnum moves so fast, I can’t even reach for him. One moment, he’s there. The next, he’s stepping out into the aisle leading to where the gunshots are firing from.
I follow after him, ignoring his earlier command of staying where I am. I crouch next to the bleachers, and Brawler follows behind me.