by HJ Bellus
The door to our suite flies open before I have the chance to respond to the corny joke. Bella’s perched on Jag’s shoulders. He ducks as he enters the room. The rest of the crew follows behind him. Bella is wearing Jag’s aviators and bopping her head while he sings the next lines of a popular rap song.
Jag drops his duffle bag while singing at the top of his lungs. When he doesn’t know any more words, he begins beatboxing.
“I need a stiff drink,” Boss growls.
I laugh so hard I nearly piss myself. This whole pregnancy thing shakes a girl’s body up for sure. I pat his knee as he plops down on the couch next to me.
“I’ll fix you one, Boss. You deserve one after putting up with him all day.” I wink at him.
Boss takes the journal from my lap and finds a blank page. His strong hand begins scrawling a note. It’s his thing. Nobody else writes in it beside me and him. Never had a father figure growing up. Shuffling between foster homes never allowed me to form that kind of relationship. Boss has stepped up to the plate for me.
“Here.” Layla holds out her hand. “You may be almost five months pregnant, but you look like nine.”
“Bitch,” I whisper-yell. I plant my hands on my hips. “I was asked three times today if I was having triplets at the spa.”
“’Atta girl.” Jag sets Bella down and grabs me by the hips, pulling me to him. Our chests no longer collide. It’s the baby bump and abs nowadays. “Did you tell them it’s because of the size of my co…”
I slap my hand over his mouth. Jag is Jag. He changes for no one, not even little ears. Yep, that counseling bill is going to be hefty.
“No, I told them I’m carrying twin boys, and their father is a royal jackass.” I push off his chest and pour Boss a stiff one.
You’d never know Jag is about to fight in the biggest match of his life by the way he acts. Hell, you’d think the man was at Disneyland.
“Madré.” Bella bounces to her mom in her hot pink swimsuit. She and Layla spent most of the day at the pool. The heat wasn’t my thing. The couch is where I was while Jag trained today after yet another intense weigh-in.
I hand Boss his vodka with a splash of Sprite in it and relax next to him. Bella is waving a thick straw that’s taller than her in Layla’s face, rattling off in Spanish. From the look on Layla’s face, she’s about to junk punch Jag.
“Are you kidding me?” Cruz growls, grabbing the monster straw filled with colored sugar out of Bella’s hands.
“It was that or hitting the hookers on the corner. I promised my niece some unky time.” Jag shrugs and tugs me up from the couch. He plops down in my spot then pulls me in his lap.
“Paybacks. I swear, Jag, you’re going to regret this, and I’m apologizing in advance now, Sunni, but he has it coming.”
“Chill out, papa bear. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Duh.”
Bella mimics Jag’s “duh,” drawing it out.
I smile. The banter is too much. I have no doubt Layla and Cruz will spoil the shit out of our boys, and so will every other Diablo family member. Trick and Riot are pushing hard to name the boys after them. Not going to happen, but I indulge their request with a smile and a shrug.
“Come here, sweet butt.” Jag reaches over and yanks the straw from Cruz’s grip and bites into the end, tearing off the seal. His brow is crunched up in concentration as he instructs Bella not to get her spit at the end of it.
“Open up.” Jag tilts the straw up, pouring straight sugar in her mouth.
Once the sugar fires up Bella’s energy level, she takes off running around the suite, showing us her gymnastic moves mixed in with karate kicks. Layla snatches the straw of sugar, bends the end, and begins whipping Jag with it. I scoot to Boss. I’m certain this is where all our bonding comes from. It’s typically us two sitting on the sidelines watching the chaos.
Jag leaps off the couch and puts Layla in a headlock. He drags her around a bit before folding her up in a pretzel on the floor. Layla’s hand swats at his back between her bouts of giggles. Somehow Layla manages to get out of the hold. Pretty sure it was Bella’s distraction.
Jag sits up and in one swift move pulls down Layla’s shorts. Her bare ass is right in Boss’ and my face. A freshly inked tattoo of Cruz’s signature is front and center on one ass cheek.
“Madré!” Bella points at the black ink.
“Are you kidding me?” Boss leaps to his feet.
“I’m going to kill you,” Cruz mutters.
He doesn’t get much else out as Boss puts him in a chokehold. Bella dances around squealing and cheering her dad and grandpa on.
“You are awful!” I slap Jag’s heaving chest when he sits next to me.
He cradles my body to his, running his hand underneath my shirt. His fingers dance and glide over my skin.
“She got it after her pool time with Bella. That’s when I took her on a shopping spree. Knew Boss would lose his shit.” Jag’s smile is contagious. He’s damn proud of himself. His lips run up and down the length of my neck. His tongue darts out, making lazy patterns.
“Stop.” I grab his cheek, keeping his face in the crook of my neck. “You know that drives me wild.”
The diamond ring on my left hand sparkles. We couldn’t wait for Vegas and got married in the gym back home. It was simple and perfect. Thirty dollars and a quick online course ordained Trick, and he married us. Boss walked me down the aisle, and Bella walked Jag down. We danced the night away to SpongeBob SquarePants, Johnny Cash, and Guns N’ Roses.
“I’m hungry for pussy,” he hisses.
It’s true what they say about pregnancy hormones. I’m hornier than Jag these days, and that’s a deadly combination for both of us.
“Are they going to kill each other?”
Jag pops his head up. Cruz and Boss are so tangled up I can’t tell who is winning or name any of the holds.
“My money is on Boss,” Jag replies.
Layla has given up on the whole scene, making herself a drink. From what I can tell, it’s Liquid Cocaine, which is a deathly combination.
“Oh my God!” I swivel Jag’s chin to look toward Bella.
She has her pants stripped down to her ankles, her torso twisted, with her tongue aimed out the side of her mouth, showcasing her deep concentration. Her bare butt is exposed as she holds a black Sharpie marker. Trick notices what we are looking at and bites down on his bottom lip.
Trick’s fighting in a champion fight tomorrow as well. He’s much calmer than Jag, especially before fights.
Bella manages to get a half circle on her butt cheek before adjusting her position. She doesn’t give up until she has scribbled on her butt.
“Madré.” Bella bends over, showing off her matching tattoo.
Jag is up and on his feet with me in his arms. I lace my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. His laughter trails behind us as we race to the bedroom.
“She’s going to kill me,” Jag gets out between his chuckles.
“Yes, she is.”
Jag kicks the door shut then places me on my feet, quickly locking it.
“Wifey, you’re mine tonight.” He backs me up until the backs of my legs hit the bed. He lays me down. Every single time he does this, I always feel beautiful. That’s one thing that will never change between us. Jag loves every part of me.
He peels away my clothes in a slow, seductive tango. The backs of his hands graze my most sensitive parts, teasing me. My knees quiver and my core drips with want and need.
“Time for my protein shake.” His face disappears between my legs. I giggle at our inside joke. My laughter ceases when he inserts two fingers and laps his tongue between my folds. His growl vibrates against my flesh. My hands fly to his hair, tugging and yanking him closer to me. I buck up, milking out all the friction I can.
He reaches up with his free hand when I begin to yell out my pleasure, as his finger curls inside of me. Jag crawls up my body until his lips brush against mine. I lick our love clean
from them then push him off me. He goes easy, way overprotective about my belly.
“I’m going to ride the champ.” I toss a leg over his middle and plant my palms on his chest. My most loved possession. I reach between us, pulling Jag’s rock-hard erection from his gym shorts. My days are numbered. Soon I won’t be able to reach that far down. He guides my hips down on him. I feel every inch of him fill me and snap my eyes shut. The emotion of the action brims my eyes with happy tears.
“I love you madly. I love you wildly. You are my heartbeat, Jag.”
Epilogue
Jag
“Sit the hell down and hold still.” Boss jerks me down and continues wrapping my hands.
My legs bounce up and down. The energy and adrenaline of the impending fight of my life is making me drunk at the moment. I’m the underdog, just the way I like it. It’s time for Jag the Punisher to rattle up Vegas and its money.
I pull the gold chain out from my Diablo’s t-shirt and kiss the Saint Christopher pendant Sunni gave me on our wedding night. I kiss the center of it and squeeze my eyes closed. I’ve always had a hard time believing in God. I’d go along with the majority of society, never having a strong belief one way or the other.
That all changed the day I held Sunni broken and beaten in a state hospital bed knowing a little life was growing inside her because of our love. As the days drifted by and I watched her heal into the woman she is today, my resolve cracked. I no longer wonder if there is a God or not.
I see Him every morning, feel Him with every tender kiss from Sunni, and am wrapped in His arms when my family surrounds me.
My family. My Legacy. My sweet, sweet honey pot. I’m one blessed good-lookin’ son of a bitch.
***
Sunni
“I’m going to grab a corndog. Do you want anything, Layla?” I stand from the uncomfortable as hell chair, stretching out my back.
“I’m good.”
“I’ll get it.” Riot stands.
“No, I need to stretch out a bit.” I wave him off.
“I’ll get it. You’re not leaving this seat alone.” Riot strides off.
“Get two,” I holler.
He waves his hand over his head, acknowledging my request. I remain standing, arching my back and rolling my eyes.
“Get used to it, Momma.” Layla pats my belly and then kisses it. “The overbearing, protective caveman act will get worse when the boys come.”
“Great.” I sit back down. “Want to know a secret? Jag will lose his shit.”
“Give me. Give me. Give me,” Layla begs.
“We have baby names.” I squeeze and shrug my shoulders.
“Oh my God!” She grabs my shoulders. “Spill.”
“You can’t tell Jag I told you. However, when he’s about to announce it, you can blurt them out. Payback and all.”
“Go! Get on with it now,” she says.
“Dexter and Felix.”
Layla snaps her mouth shut. Tears well up in her eyes. She doesn’t even try to stop them from spilling over. We are naming the babies after Boss and Cruz. Dexter is Boss’ real name, and Felix is Cruz’s last name.
“It’s perfect.” She wipes away her tears and then bends down, talking to her nephews using their first names.
Riot returns with my corndogs, a Diet Coke, and a boat of ketchup, mustard, and mayo. I use the corndog to swirl all the condiments together. Layla turns up her nose, showing her disgust.
“Is it weird I’m not nervous?” I ask before taking my first bite.
Layla shrugs. “You know I was thinking the same thing. I don’t think it’s weird but more foreign for us. We are in the middle of a perfect storm, and we are just adjusting to it.”
I couldn’t agree more. The fights begin. The excitement in the stadium escalates, as does mine. They’re fighting by weight class. Jag is before Trick. Goosebumps glide along my skin when Jag’s opponent is announced. He’s a mean, mean-looking guy with tattoos creeping up the side of his face. He’s missing more teeth than he has and is undefeated.
The song he walks out to scares the shit out of me. Bex the Underground Hellion isn’t a joke.
“Out of Vancouver, Washington, home of the Diablo’s Throne, with a mixed martial arts record of ten knockouts and two submissions, this motherfucker means business. Jaaaaaag the Punisher!”
I leap up on my seat, jumping and screaming with all I have. Riot’s hands grab my hips, keeping me steady. Jag’s intro song blares. Everyone sings along. He may be the underdog, but he’s the crowd favorite.
His face is down with his black hoodie shielding his face. Jag’s stride is powerful and determined. He picks up his pace, bouncing from toe to toe as he walks. When the music screeches and changes up, he takes off sprinting, tearing off his hoodie before making it to the ring.
He leaps in the middle of the octagon, beating his chest with his head raised to Heaven, roaring out a battle cry.
“I lied,” I yell over to Layla. “I’m fucking nervous now.”
“Me too,” she screams back.
We stay standing on our seats as the official checks both fighters. I don’t take my gaze off Jag as Boss pumps him up for the fight.
“Hey, fatass bitch, sit down.”
I turn slightly to see a pissed off and more than likely drunk guy pointing at me. I flip him the bird. Riot grabs him by the collar and signals for security. Before he lets him go, he uppercuts the man’s beer belly. Yeah, these overprotective men aren’t half bad.
I don’t hold my hands over my chest or mouth but keep them firmly planted over our future. The bell dings, and Jag does his dance. He’s as graceful in the ring as he is on the dance floor and between the sheets.
He gets punch drunk on two severe jabs to the jaw. Bex is known for his deadly uppercut that drops fighters in the blink of an eye. Jag is playing with fire and loving every second of it. It’s just like him to push and toy with the limits.
The sports analysts predicted a knockout in round one by Bex. It fueled Jag’s training. He listened to each knockdown and took them to heart, dead set on proving them wrong. He won’t go for a tap out. Only a knockout will do.
“Move. Move. Move,” Layla screams next to me.
I remain silent, studying the determination in Jag’s eyes. His hands are up, shielding his face as he dances around. Bex drops his left hand, and Jag reacts, taking a swing, connecting with Bex’s temple, and sending him stumbling backward. Jag advances, swinging both arms and connecting with his opponent's face and ribs.
He has him pushed up against the octagon. Jag winds up one more time. It happens in slow motion as his fist connects one final time with Bex’s temple. He crumbles to the mat. The official hops between the fighters. What happens next shows me the man Jag truly is.
He drops to his knees, placing his head on the mat and slapping his hands on the mat. His ego is left back in the locker room. His corner leaps out into the ring. It’s Boss who helps Jag up to his feet. The official raises Jag’s hand in victory. Jag grabs Boss’ and does the same thing. The two men who met so many years ago on a sidewalk have truly come full circle.
Jag’s chest falls and rises with his wracking sobs. He can barely get out any words when the microphone is placed in front of him.
“A win of a lifetime, Jag. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Jag pounds his chest several times before any words come out. “Heart, fire, and desire.”
He grabs Boss’ hand again and raises it above their heads. “All of this is because of this man right here. I owe him everything.”
Jag turns in Boss’ arms and hugs him. They walk out of the octagon still embraced.
I drop my head, staring at my belly. “He did it. Your daddy is a champion.”
The crowd noise around me intensifies. When I look up, Jag is jogging toward me with victory tears still rolling down his face, mixing with blood and sweat. That smile, though, makes everything worth it.
He drops to his knees
and kisses my belly and peers up at me.
“Ten minutes, baby girl, ten minutes.” He stands up and kisses my lips.
“I can’t wait ten minutes,” I mumble into his lips.
He grabs my hand, and we race to the locker room and future. He captured my heart the day we ran down the sidewalk. I’ll be forever running with this man.
Playlist
Johnny Cash
SpongeBob
And any other random shit Jag would listen to!
Prologue
Trick
“If it’s what you want to do, then go, son.” Mom dusts off the speckles of flour from the front of her apron. “If it’s what your heart wants, you have to follow it.”
I drop my head into the palms of my hands. My elbows grate against the worn grains of our dinner table. He’s going to hate me. This farm symbolizes everything he wants. I’m the one to take it over. My heart isn’t in it.
“Trenton.” Mom’s hand comes down on my shoulder. Her gentle, loving lips graze my cheek. “Follow your dreams. Your dad will be pissed. Shit, he’ll be livid, tearing the house apart once he finds out. He’s going to cuss, calling you every name in the book.”
Mom pauses, steadying her breathing. Her loving arms never leave my trembling shoulders. This shit is ridiculous. Fuck, I just graduated high school. I’m an adult by all means, yet a terrified child.
“Go, Trenton, leave this ranch and go explore the world. Your dad will come to grips with it. Just never forget your momma.”
“I…”
Mom cuts me off and ushers me to the door. She slings my duffle bag over my shoulder and places my truck keys in my hand. Mom gifts me with one loving kiss on my cheek before she pushes me out the door.
I left home forever that day and never looked back. The pain of disappointing Dad wasn’t lost on me.
Chapter 1
Trick
If any of the brothers at Diablo’s Throne knew where I was today, they’d never let me live it down. The assholes would have a heyday with Trick as a college student. It’s one thing they love doing, and that’s flipping me shit. I’ve never taken it personally, knowing damn well they love trying to get a rise out of me.