by Zara Teleg
The skinny white pit bull was constantly hanging around. I had taken him to the vet a few weeks back and gotten him hooked up with some shots and flea and tick meds. Even though Antonio had repeatedly said no, I still hoped the sweet boy would grow on him and that he would let me give him a home. I’d had dogs my whole life. Antonio was not a fan. Dog hair, muddy paws, blah blah blah. So he was my secret pet, for now.
I looked at the now-ruined dinner on the beautifully set table. Annoyed, I cleaned up the kitchen and made a plate for our neighbor. Mr. Dipetroni was always so appreciative when I brought him meals, and he loved my cooking. Ever since Mrs. Dipetroni passed away two years ago, his kids hadn’t been around much, and I liked to know he had a home-cooked meal once in a while. The sweet old man would always say something like “Enjoy with your dinner, Anabelle” or “Antonio is blessed to have you” or he’d hand me a bottle of his homemade red wine.
The clock now read 6:49. No calls. I had sent four texts that Antonio didn’t bother to answer. I decided to take a bath upstairs rather than continue to wait for nothing.
Ever since Antonio started working for Marco, he had slowly been turning into a different person. Before Marco came along, we’d spent so much time together, talking, laughing, or just watching movies. After two years of being pretty happy, the last four months had me questioning whether I should still be with him. He had become very secretive, possessive, and unreasonably short-tempered. I was not too fond of the influence Marco had on him.
I was not too fond of Marco, period. Rolling into town with his fancy car, flaunting his money and upscale lifestyle, insisting Antonio drop his job and work for him. I’d always dreamed of living on a farm, and now Antonio kept talking about moving to the city in a high-rise to be closer to Marco. I could tell by Marco’s passive-aggressive comments that he wasn’t too fond of me either and preferred that I wasn’t a part of his brother’s life.
Submerging myself in a hot bath, I tried to inhale the lavender and let my anger go. My phone rested on the edge of the tub, playing my favorite music, and I allowed the sound to take me away. I stayed that way until the water had become cold and I shriveled.
I wrapped myself in a towel and heard a crash coming from downstairs. Glass shattering, yelling and screaming, furniture turning over. I was about to dial 911 when everything suddenly went quiet. I slowly made my way out of the bathroom, and then he saw me. My blood turned to ice and I froze.
I realized it was Antonio, and relief washed over me. “Oh, my God! Baby, you scared me.” I was shocked by his disheveled appearance, blood dripping down his hand. I barely recognized him. This was a stranger, a maniac that stood before me, his eyes tracking my movement like a predator.
“Baby,” I said again, looking at the trail of blood coming from his knuckles, “what happened to your hand? And what was all that noise?”
He pointed a shaky hand at me. “You…” he slurred. His eyes were crazed, and he was sweating profusely. “You…” he said again, spitting as he spoke. I took two steps back. I could smell the cheap perfume and alcohol on him.
“You are a little bitch who’s holding me back. I’m doing important work with Marco, and your whiny little texts kept coming in and bothering us. You don’t want me to be successful. You want me to fail. Not like Sophia. She helps Marco.”
Sophia? He wasn’t making any sense. I clutched the towel and started backing up.
“Okay, baby, just calm down. I’m sorry about the texts, I was just a little worried, that’s all. I’ll try to be more support—”
A swift backhand struck my cheek. I didn’t see it coming and I screamed as the throbbing pain began to radiate through my face.
“You are holding me back,” his words slurred.
He sat me up from the floor, grabbing me by the shoulders, and screamed at my face, “Why? Why can’t you support me?”
“I-I do. I do support you, baby. Just tell me…what do you want me to do? I’ll do it.” I sobbed, shaking. Hot liquid was trailing down my face, the pain unbearable.
He then let go of me and sat beside me. “Marco…Marco needs me,” he cried. He put his face on his hands, pulled on his hair, and started rocking back and forth.
It was my chance. I made my escape and ran out of the bathroom. I made my way down the steps, gripping the towel tightly as I ran.
He lunged at me, almost getting a hold of the towel. My thumping heart pounded in my ears as a wave of heat rose through my body. I almost made it to the bottom of the steps. The impact of a kick to my back knocked the wind out of me. I tumbled down the last few steps, landing on the floor, slicing my hand on a sliver of glass. My bleeding hand felt around for something to defend myself with. I scanned the room, it had been destroyed. I focused on the overturned table, the meal I prepared mixed with glass and broken dishes on the floor. I spotted the chef’s knife about two feet from me. I lunged forward. Before I could grab it, a fist connected with my face.
I almost lost consciousness. I wished I had. But he was still there. It wasn’t over.
“Stop! Antonio! Don’t do this!” But deep down, I knew he wouldn’t. “Help! Somebody! Help!”
I was grabbing at anything I could. I threw a plate at him, hitting the side of his head.
“Bitch!” Disoriented, he slowed.
I shuffled across the floor, grabbing for the knife. I ran out the door, but a push to my back threw me down, skidding across the concrete. Pain seared through my hip. He jumped on top of me, flipping me over, punching me in the face over and over, blow after devastating blow.
“No…” I tried to scream but nothing came out. I was barely holding on. A bloody hand came around my neck, tighter and tighter, crushing my throat.
Saliva pooled in the sides of his mouth as he yelled, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” With my weakened arms, I used all my strength to push against his wrists to loosen his grip on my neck. “You can’t leave me!” he spat.
I was no match for his psychotic power. He squeezed my neck with one hand as he grabbed the knife. Spots began to form as the darkness took me. The blade held in the air was the last thing I saw.
Two days after my attack, I woke up in the hospital. My parents, Paige, and Officer Gavin Jacobs were by my side. From the moment Gavin arrived on the scene, he had made me his priority. He had been there through all my surgeries and rehab. Gavin had made sure I got out and helped me change my name and start a new life. He had developed feelings for me that I wished I could return, but I had been too damaged, too broken, even now.
“Fuck!” I screamed it so loud that Lord began to bark. I ran out to my patio and beat my heavy bag, screaming and crying until I had nothing left except purple bleeding knuckles.
Chapter Sixteen
Rage
The door to the small locker room slammed behind Leo. He held a medical kit in one hand and a roll of wraps in the other.
“You feeling ready, champ?” He asked with a slight amount of concern in his voice.
“Yeah, man, I am. I can’t wait to get my hands on that little fucker.”
He just nodded and began to prepare to tape my hands. I hadn’t been in the octagon in over a year. I might not have been running the circuit, but with all the training I’d been doing, I know I’m stronger and more prepared than I’d ever been. I geared up by focusing on the thoughts of the night that Richard drugged Juliet. I felt it in my bones. I just wanted to rip him to shreds. Richard Ramsey had been tormenting me since I was a boy, but nothing he’d ever done set me off like that night.
We didn’t know what he’d been up to yet, but judging from some of the characters here tonight, he must’ve been in deep. Ledge had told Leo that there were several clubs along with a few different mafia fighters. I knew he was involved in something.
Tonight was the Firecracker Fights. There were several clubs here with guys in the tournament, but most were here to see us in the main event. Two champions, Richard Ramsey and Rage Erickson, fighting for the ti
tle. But if you asked me, the only reason Ramsey even became a champion was that I wasn’t in the fight. There was only one champ here tonight.
I don’t know how the hell I was supposed to focus on a fight with Juliet being one of my ring girls along with Ivy and Shelly. The girls at the club were pissed, most especially Leann. They thought their skinny asses should represent us. When the three of them came strutting out of the dressing room, I didn’t know who wanted to cover them up first, me, Hawk, or Leo.
Ivy had bought them these tiny ring-girl outfits. Even though I liked Juliet in her soft sweat shorts, tight tanks, and no makeup, I nearly fell to my knees at the sight of her. My eyes roved over her, from her red painted toes sticking out of fuck-me heels, to her shiny, tan, muscular legs, and to her little red shorts that hung low on her hips. When my eyes reached her chest, I wanted to say fuck the fight, scoop her up, and spend the next three days in bed worshipping her body. The shirt squeezed her perfect tits together, pushing them up and out if not for a string to hold them in. She had thick lashes and lipstick on those full plump lips that matched her shorts. I wanted those lips wrapped around me.
Then they spun around. Fuck me. The only word that came to my head was mine. Juliet’s perfect ass had my name across it in big white letters: RAGE. She had no idea what she’d done. I wasn’t waiting any longer. Tonight she was going to find out what it meant to be mine.
The girls were giggling at our reactions; however, Leo was not happy. He growled and almost made Shelly change, but Ivy would have none of it. We asked them to get their boards while I had my hands wrapped and went over strategy with Leo.
When the door shut, I looked up to see that Juliet had stayed with us. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She stood across the small room, biting her nail with a terrified look on her face. Juliet’s body language was powerful. It was a mix of fear and dread. Leo was talking about…something, and what I agreed to, I had no clue…it might have been to turn over my first born if I lost. Then the crowd made a daunting sound, and all three of us ran to the door.
Juliet
Millions of tiny butterflies swarmed inside my stomach. The small locker room seemed to be closing in. Outside the room, the crowd was going crazy over the bloodbath that was happening now. It had been one slaughter after another.
I’d taken a peek at the action several times, attempting to prepare myself for what Rage would participate in tonight. Terrified did not begin to describe the gnawing in my gut.
My eyes shifted to Rage, who didn’t seem to share my concern. He stood calm and collected. The muscles in his chest were pumped up; his veins were pronounced, stretching from his shoulder to his wrists. He didn’t acknowledge Leo as he approached him with tape in his hands. Rage must have been in the zone. He was still as a statue.
The room was stuffy. Small beads of sweat were glistening from his chest down his eight-pack to the low-slung shorts he had tied tight around his waist. His chiseled face showed nothing but intensity.
I’d been told that the rules in the underground octagon were much more lax than in a sanctioned fight. I couldn’t imagine that sleazeball Richard fighting fair. Not when he didn’t even believe rules of basic human decency applied to him. I prayed that Rage would kick the shit out of the arrogant asshole. The night he spiked my drink I wanted to fight him myself. Anger surged through my veins every time the thought of that night crept into my mind. I kept my promise and acted as if nothing had happened to me that night, but I seethed every time I saw him.
Leo wrapped Rage’s hands and reminded him of the plan of attack. He was speaking all kinds of technical stuff that I couldn’t focus on, my mind overwhelmed by anxiety. I could feel my back tightening with tension.
Rage should have been concentrating on Leo. He nodded at Leo’s instructions, but his dark brown eyes stayed focused on me. My cheeks heated with the hungry look he gave me, melting away some of my nerves.
I already felt self-conscious dressed in the small ring-girl outfit that Ivy had picked up for us. The bright red booty shorts rode up, exposing my oiled legs and maybe the round of my butt cheeks. They also rode down low on my hip bones, exposing my entire stomach. Where the fuck did she even find these? The plunging top squeezed my cleavage together and up, making my C cups look more like full D’s. The tiny straps holding the red material went around my neck and tied at the back. She also somehow arranged to have Rage’s name appear in big letters across our asses. She had been so excited when she got them, screaming at Fluid, forcing us to try them on between classes. I thought Hawk’s eyeballs were going to fall out of his head when he saw her. He might have a thing for her.
A loud collective “ooohh” came from the crowd that broke me out of my thoughts. The three of us all jumped to our feet and peeked our heads out of the room to look at the octagon where the fight had stopped. Two medics were already making their way to the man. Damn. One medic waved to another to bring a stretcher.
When I expressed to Rage how concerned I was about this, he told me about the military medics they kept on the cash payroll to assist ringside. That didn’t make me feel any better, especially as I watched the downed fighter get carried away, his body jerking. A man hopped into the ring, mopping up blood as the winner’s arm was held up in victory. Bile rose up my throat at the sight of the drenched red mop.
The crowd went wild, chanting “Cobra” as the winner’s entrance music, Metallica’s Enter Sandman, began playing again. Lights strobed as he held his arms up to the crowd, encouraging them.
I didn’t know what I was expecting by underground and unsanctioned. I guessed some basement with a bunch of people in a circle. Not a full-blown event with a DJ, music, seating, locker rooms, medics, and a real octagon. It took an hour drive to the old warehouse turned arena. There were easily over a thousand people here tonight. I saw several MCs and other men in suits who looked like mobsters. The event was high class. There was a mix of motorcycles and limos in the parking lot. Security was all over. I wondered how they put together something this size.
Two more fights before Rage and Richard. I thought the last fight would have lasted longer, but the smaller fighter took the big guy down. For the third time in ten minutes, I looked at the time on my phone. It was 11:30. I felt nauseated. I took a deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. Ivy would kill me if I ruin the hours’ worth of makeup and fake lashes she had put on me with my head in a bucket.
As if reading my mind, Rage called, “Juliet.”
I turned to face him. He smiled that devastating, panty-dropping smile of his as he waved me toward him. “Leo, could you give us a minute?”
“Yeah, man, I gotta find Shelly, anyway. I hope she’s not running around with Ivy in that fucking outfit,” he grumbled as he looked at mine again and shook his head. “Ivy may not be welcome at The Pit anymore.”
That made me laugh for a second. Once Leo had left the room, Rage pulled me close to him. The sound of the speakers announcing the next match made me jump. “Babe, you okay?” He was smiling, enjoying that I was a bundle of nerves.
“Yes, of course, why wouldn’t I be?”
His sexy dimple deepened. “Yeah, right, you just jumped out of your skin at the announcer. What, you think I can’t take your ex?” he asked, the cheeky bastard. He was clearly enjoying this.
“What? I went out on a few dates with the fucking asshole. I would hardly call him an ex. Just try not to get knocked out in the first round, okay? ‘Cause I was planning on parading in this little number for at least five rounds.” That had him belly laughing.
Taking his wrapped hand into mine, I looked straight into his eyes. “Rage, please promise to be careful. You have become one of my closest friends, and I just couldn’t take it if something happened to you.” I turned my gaze away, willing my eyes to not well up. I couldn’t lose another person I cared about.
He put his hand under my chin, forcing me to look back into his eyes. “Babe,” he said softly, “I’m glad
to know you consider me one of your closest friends, but as I’d told you before, you are mine, and I think you should start accepting that.”
He put a hand on each side of my hips and squeezed. “You look sexy as fuck in that.” His hand swept up and down. “When you walked in, I wanted you. When you turned around, I nearly kicked everyone out to take you right here. So, I’m going to beat that fucker fast and hard to make it back to you as soon as I can and rip those clothes off you.”
His words made my legs weak. We stood face to face, so close, our lips almost touched. I wasn’t sure what came over me, but emboldened by his desire, I leaned into him and whispered in his ear, “You better.”
Before either of us could do anything more, the door slammed against the wall, making us jump apart. Leo was back with Ivy and Shelly. Our moment was gone.
Ivy was bouncing up and down, “Juliet, did you see that guy? Oh, my God! Blood splattered all over the first row. It was awesome!” Her eyes were wild with excitement. “He scissor-kicked him right to the face and I literally heard his face crunch!” She shook her head closing her eyes. “Rage, please be careful, we all like you in one piece.”
That commentary did nothing for my nerves and had me looking at the bucket again. Deep breaths, I told myself, in and out. Rage squeezed my hand.
“Thanks for the update, Ivy,” Rage groaned, “but I think it’s time you girls go and get ready for the announcer.”
Leo’s deep voice instructed, “Remember, start down the path the second you hear Rage’s music start. Richard is entering first so he will already be in the ring.”
As we exited the room, a hand grasped my wrist, tugging me back. Spinning me around, Rage held onto my arm, but he didn’t say a word. His mouth opened, then closed with a quiet huff. I smiled at him, placing my hand over his and said, “I know.” I stood on my tiptoes, kissing his cheek.