KNOCKOUT

by Nikki Wild

  KNOCKOUT

  A Bad Boy Fighter Romance

  Nikki Wild

  Love isn’t something you find. Love is something that finds you.

  Loretta Young

  One

  Bria

  “Ugh, that was so cheesy,” said Kaitlyn, as she dug through her purse looking for her car keys.

  “I know,” I said. “It was like, shitty comedy, meets shitty romance, meets shitty drama.”

  “So... you’re saying it was a rom-com-shit-dram?”

  She tried to suppress her giggles but couldn’t help herself. The way she was covering her mouth and choking back little snorts of air made me lose it too. Her laugh was contagious. It reminded me of the way we used to be when we were kids.

  “You’re so dumb,” I said, struggling to keep my grin under control.

  “Whatever. You know I’m funny.” She burst into another fit, and I followed suit.

  By now, curious movie-goers were staring from all corners of the parking lot, probably startled by the two twenty-somethings losing their minds somewhere off in the darkness. Or maybe they just wanted in on the joke…

  The lock clicked, and I popped open the passenger-side door. The aroma of popcorn and butter was still thick in my nose. It had seeped into my clothes and hair.

  “Take me home, driver,” I said. “I have to be to work early tomorrow.”

  “Driver? You better watch your mouth, or I’ll drop you off at the bus station.” She cocked an eyebrow at me and smiled. “...Let you hang out with all the creeps who like to stay up late on a school night.”

  I narrowed my eyes and smiled back. “You wouldn’t do that to your bestest friend in the whole wide world.”

  Kaitlyn turned the key and the engine made a soft purring noise. It was nice to sit in her plush and reliable BMW. It was nothing like the temperamental beast I drove around town. There was a special kind of comfort that went along with not worrying over whether the car would start.

  “You should quit that job, anyway.” she said. “It’s not like they’re paying you enough for all the work they give you.”

  She was right. I had been with the firm for almost three years, and I hadn’t seen a single raise. My responsibilities, my workload, and even my workspace had expanded, but my pay stayed the same.

  Too bad it wasn’t that simple. And for as sweet and good-hearted as she was, Kaitlyn seemed to struggle with the concepts of hard work and responsibility. She was a “trust fund baby” through and through and when you paired that with her angelic face and perfect little body, it was easy to see how she found the world at her feet.

  “So, I guess that means I can move in with you?” I quipped, “Because, without that job there’s no way I’m making my rent. Let alone the electricity, the gas, my phone…”

  “Okay, okay…” she said.

  “The credit cards, my student loans…” I continued.

  “I get it!” she yelled. Her face was apologetic, but her eyes still made the point.

  “I know what you’re saying,” I said. “But, it’s just too crazy right now. When things calm down a little bit, I’ll ask for a raise.”

  “You could always come work for my dad,” she said. “He would hire you in a second.”

  “I really appreciate it; it’s just…”

  “I know,” she said. “You like to do your own thing. I respect that, but the offer still stands.”

  As the car rolled down the rain-soaked street, I let my mind wander to less stressful times. Things would have been easier if everything hadn’t fallen apart. Kevin wasn’t the best guy on the planet but he had always been there for me… Until the day he wasn’t.

  It had been six months since things ended. I caught him browsing Tinder on his phone… And a quick swipe through his recent text messages told me everything I needed to know about his extra-curricular activities…

  Kevin tried to tell me he could change. Unabashedly, he begged me to stay. He talked about our future together and what I would be throwing away as if he was presenting a case in the courtroom. There was talk of the time we had already invested, of how he was going to be getting a huge promotion soon, and how hard it was going to be to split up now that we had put all of the bills in both of our names. Like the fact that the fucking gym membership was a joint account would be enough to convince me to stay.

  I wondered how long he’d been cheating on me, and how much that contributed to the way I’d been feeling about our relationship. It was a betrayal I could never forgive.

  Kaitlyn was prattling on about some reality tv thing she was into, but I couldn’t focus on it. It didn’t matter though, because the girl barely stopped talking long enough to take a breath. She never noticed when I wasn’t listening.

  I let my hips sink back into the heated seat and propped my forehead against the cold window.

  “Remember Kevin?” I asked, cutting her off mid-sentence.

  “Uh, yeah… you mean the Kevin who had the personality of a wet paper bag?”

  “The Kevin that spent more time messing with his fantasy football stuff than he did paying attention to you?”

  “I…”

  “The same Kevin that you said fucked like he was on horse tranquilizers? The Kevin who had booty calls in every city he visited on business?” She rolled her eyes as she spat my own words back at me.

  “Well, I mean, he’s been calling me again… He wants to be with me, and he’s finally about to make partner at the firm,” I replied quietly.

  “Bria! C’mon, are you serious? That guy was… just… sad. I mean, really, he-,”

  She must have noticed the frustration on my face because she cut herself off.

  “Listen, Kevin might have the looks and the money, but he was a capital A Asshole. You should put yourself out there before you even think about going back to him. You owe it to yourself to try because you can do WAY better.”

  I wanted to defend myself but she was right. I hadn’t given the single life a fair chance, and truthfully, I needed much more than the promise of a warm body lying next to me every night.

  “Oh, shoot! Stop here!” I said, as I noticed the lit neon sign in the gas station window.

  “What? Why? We’re almost to your apartment.”

  “They’re still open. I need to get eggs.” I said.

  “Just do it tomorrow or something. Who buys their eggs at a dirty gas station, anyway?”

  “C’mon, stop. I really need them. Egg-whites for breakfast every morning. That’s my new diet thing and I don’t want to break my streak.”

  Kaitlyn sighed as she turned her signal on and slowed at the entrance. “I’m too good to you, you know that?” she said. “But hurry, ‘cause I’m not going in.”

  “It’s fine, you don’t have to wait,” I said. “It’s only a five-minute walk from here and I could use the fresh air.”

  She stared at me quizzically as we pulled up to the glass front of the building. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? Because I was joking. I don’t mind waiting.”

  I threw the door open and stretched my tired legs out into the cool night air.

  “Uh, I think I’ll be fine rich girl. I know this isn’t Beverly Hills, but it’s not like I live in the hood. I’ll text you when I get home.”

  “Okay, you better. And don’t even think about calling ‘Mr. Limpdick’ because you know that’s not what you really want.”

  I slammed the door shut with mock anger and put my hands on my hips.

  She gave me the finger, then smiled and nodded toward the young guy working behind the counter inside. He had been watching our little interaction.

  Kaitlyn flipped her hair and gave him a tantalizing wink before putting it in drive and disappearing into the night.

  I found an adequate c
arton on the third try. The first one I opened was a mess of broken shell and leaking yolk. The second was simply missing two eggs. Maybe this area was a little more “hood” than I had been willing to admit.

  With future breakfast in hand, I made my way to the counter. The poor kid working the register, all 145 pounds of him, could barely stand to speak, let alone make eye contact with me. Somewhere in between my amusement at the shy cashier and my efforts to fish a credit card out of my purse, another customer slipped into the store.

  My brain registered the familiar “ding” that every convenience store front door makes when you walk through it, but I didn’t give it any real thought until I realized that the new arrival had made his way into line behind me.

  I don’t know why I felt off about it, but I did. He had a looming presence. The air around him stunk like cheap tobacco and I could practically feel his hot breath on my neck. Was he standing really close, or was I imaging things?

  The shy cashier’s hand shook like a leaf as he handed back the change. I realized that maybe I wasn’t the one having an effect on him as he glanced apprehensively over my shoulder.

  I suddenly wanted nothing more than to get out of here.

  “Receipt?” the cashier asked.

  “Keep it.” I replied, grabbing my credit card and quickly making my way to the door.

  Once outside I started to feel better. I couldn’t completely shake the feeling I had in the store, but my unease was quickly settling as I took in a breath of the cool night air. I couldn’t wait to get home and throw open the windows.

  My condo was in a cute, older building on the west side of town. It sat just a couple of blocks off the main drag and backed up to a beautiful greenbelt. On quiet mornings, I could sit on my back patio and listen to the birds talk. It wasn’t the most luxurious of places, but it held a certain charm and struck the perfect balance between city and suburbs. It was one of the few things in life I was really proud of.

  A quick succession of footsteps snapped me out of my condo reverie. I couldn’t be sure if they came from behind me because of the strange acoustics on the side street, but the sound was definitely made by leather slapping pavement.

  I drew a sharp breath, held it, and waited. Silence. Everything inside of me suggested I should look back over my shoulder, but I couldn’t force myself to do it. My logical brain told me there was nothing to be concerned about. The footsteps were probably inconsequential. It was just someone walking to their car or letting their dog out…

  But my intuition screamed DON’T LOOK BACK! THE BOOGEY MAN WILL GET YOU!

  All at once I was struck by my foolishness. How could I be so stubborn to think it was a good idea to walk home this late at night? Why did I insist on telling Kaitlyn to go? Why did I leave the relative safety of a busy gas station if something didn’t feel right?

  I steeled my nerves, let the breath go slowly, and walked. Any sense of safety that I was holding on to disappeared when the mysterious footsteps returned to match my own. I felt my pace quicken. It was happening almost automatically, like I was on autopilot.

  I still couldn’t force myself to look back, but it didn’t matter. There was no mistaking where the steps were coming from.

  Whoever was chasing me had abandoned all pretense of trying to hide their intentions. He was running just like I was, but his feet were hitting the ground faster.

  Up ahead, I could see the corner where I’d catch the bus when my car was in the shop. And just around the bend was small the small daycare center where my sister used to take my nephew. But at this time of night, it might as well have been the dark side of the moon. There wouldn’t be anyone around to help me.

  If I could just make it within shouting distance of my building, maybe someone would come out. One of my neighbors would recognize my voice and want to know what was going on.

  My legs fired like pistons and I ran with the stride of an athlete, although I hadn’t been one. It wasn’t going to be enough. The footsteps were louder than ever and closing fast. I tried to yell for help, but nothing came out. My voice caught in my throat and stayed there no matter how hard I willed it.

  He couldn’t have been more than twenty feet behind me when I remembered my cell phone. The puff-puff-puff of his outgoing breaths now coincided with his heavy footfalls.

  I yanked the phone out of my back pocket without losing much speed. It unlocked with one quick swipe. Thank God I had removed the passcode when Kevin and I broke up. My thumb found its way over the phone app and I was almost there. If this bastard was going to grab me, it was all going to be recorded by the police.

  9-1-…

  It all happened so quickly. My foot came down, but not where I expected. Though only an extra eighteen inches, the step off that curb felt like it lasted an eternity. In my haste to get the call out, I’d lost my bearing.

  The unexpected dip caused me to land with a jolt, and my phone flew from my hand. It hit the ground and bounced a few feet to my right.

  I turned and bent to scoop it up.

  His body hit mine like a train shot off the tracks. The full brunt of his weight sent me tumbling head over heels. My shirt tore at the seam and pulled down off my shoulder. The right side of my jeans shredded down the hip to the knee.

  From my back, I had an inverted view of my cozy little condo. The light was on at the front porch, the way I always left it. It was so close.

  A rough hand cupped my mouth and the weight of a large body pressed down on mine. The smell of cheap tobacco was overwhelming.

  Two

  Luke

  I like running when it’s dark. Sometimes, I go in the morning while all the men without discipline sleep. Other times I go late at night, long after the nine-to-fivers have kissed their kids and gone to bed. I don’t train for the sport of it. I don’t do it for fun. I do it because it’s how I get what I want.

  Money isn’t free and neither are fame or beautiful women. You have to earn whatever you desire in this life, and I’ve been earning for a long time.

  I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon, either.

  Here comes the climb.

  The boys at my training facility call it heart rate hill. Stretching out at a thirty-degree angle, it’s steep enough to drop most fighters to their knees by the midway point. Not me. I love the burn it puts in my lungs. Just like when I get in the cage, I thrive on pushing past the thresholds that others can’t.

  A quarter mile in is where the men separate from the boys. It breaks a lot of athletes when they look for the horizon and realize they’re not even close. They’ll suck in huge breaths and fall off the pace.

  At a mile, the attrition rate is fierce. Even some of the top guys can’t maintain their rhythm.

  By the time you hit the mile and a half marker, you know you’re in good company. Fighters who can run -and I mean run- at this point are serious. They’ve likely trained for years and have the discipline to go places in life.

  And that’s where I separate myself from the pack. Because I have another gear. Because I know how to push. Because I’m the alpha.

  The blood flows hot in my veins as I scope the crest. My breaths are deep but measured. This is always the point when the adrenaline hits. Some people call it as a runner’s high, but not me. I don’t care what it’s called. I just know it’s the point where cheap fucking foreign cars start to lag and I run faster.

  When the hill plateaus you can see for miles. The bright lights of Atlas City give way to the outskirts of Washington Heights to the west and Cardale to the east. Most nights I have to force myself to stop here just so I can look out at the city. And why wouldn’t I? I fucking own it.

  Three

  Bria

  I struggled for air. All of my wind was spent from running, and trying to breathe with his hand clamped over my nose gave me a claustrophobic feeling.

  His grip was like a vice. At first I thought he was wrestling to gain control of my purse. My shock turned to blinding fear as I realized he w
as dragging me into the alley.

  “Keep your mouth shut. If you don’t do exactly what I say it’s not gonna be good.”

  He spoke through his teeth. It was similar to the way my father used to sound when he was angry, only this had so much more hatred behind it.

  He let the blade of his hand slide over my lips and come to rest beneath my chin.

  “Why do you want from me?” I tried to sound tough but there was a pleading in my voice that was unmistakable.

  “You know what I want,” he growled. “My car is parked behind the gas station. That’s where we’re going.”

  “Please just let me go. I won’t say anything to anyone. Look, you’re drunk. I know you don’t really want to do this.”

  When he leaned back the orange glow from the street light lit his face. Until now, the only image of him I’d had was what my own imagination stitched together. The real-life version was worse.

  His face was angular and sickly. The lines in his forehead looked like they were etched in stone. When his lips parted in a sinister smile I could taste my dinner in the back of my throat.

  “Not a sound,” he said.

  His hands never lost contact as we stood together. When he let them slide down to my hips it chilled me to the bone.

  “Back this way,” he directed. Turning me toward the station and giving a little shove. I strained to see back over my shoulder, wondering if it was the last time I would set eyes on the peaceful little home.

  I frantically searched for anything that could save me. There still wasn’t another person on the street. Any of the buildings that had their lights on were so far in the distance that there was little point in running. My only shot was going to be at the gas station. I’d have to wait for an opening. Any little distraction and I would tear myself away. I’d scream louder than this fucking creep even thought possible.