Brawler

by Scott Hildreth

  I gripped his massive chest firmly, digging the tips of my fingers against the flesh. In turn, he dragged his fingers along my back and bucked his hips in perfect time with the movement of my hips.

  His upward thrusts buried the tip of his cock deep within me, each time forcing the breath from my lungs like a shot.

  I chewed against my lower lip and closed my eyes, allowing myself to focus on the feeling of having him inside of me. Together, we continued to our quest for sexual satisfaction, grinding against each other wildly.

  His girth increased. His breathing became irregular and heavy. Knowing he was on the verge of reaching climax caused me to quickly rise to my own peak of sensual satisfaction.

  A tingling from within me gave warning of what was to come. I opened my eyes. He looked back at me and thrust his hips, filling me with his entire length.

  I gasped out in pleasure, and with the last thrust of our successive hips, we reached climax together.

  In love.

  And as one.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Jaz

  Day eighty-nine.

  It was the night of Ethan’s fight, and once again, he predicted a win. In fact, he said he never wanted to lose another fight, and promised to fight each and every fight to the best of his ability. Somehow, it seemed he had found a way to live a humble life and be victorious at the made time.

  Personally, I felt that it was me that brought on the humility, but then again, that was just my thought on the matter. He believed it was in anticipation of having Ripp train him, but that was only a guess.

  Either way, I was pleased.

  “Are you excited?”

  “About what?” Ripp asked.

  “The fight?”

  He tilted his head toward me. “Yours?” He then shifted his eyes toward Ethan. “Or his?”

  I squeezed Ethan’s hand. “His.”

  “Kind of.” He chuckled. “Yours? I’ve been sick since we made the announcement. Got the fuckin’ bubbleguts. Probably end up shittin’ my pants right there in Vegas on national television.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Are you really nervous?” Ethan asked.

  “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’? I’m as nervous as a nun at a penguin shoot.”

  Ethan and I laughed and Ripp shook his head. He claimed to be nervous, but during training, he was nothing but professional. Well, as professional as he was able to be. He was still funny and although he was big and gruff, he was always caring.

  Always.

  “What do you got? Forty-five minutes?” Ripp asked.

  Ethan looked at his watch. “Yeah. Roughly.”

  “Where’s your trainer?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Don’t know. But we’re generally not here this early.”

  “That’s no shit. What? You two stop fuckin’ on fight nights?”

  “Oh hell no,” I said. “We boned before we left.”

  Ripp scowled at me and then turned toward Ethan. “Seriously?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Uh huh.”

  “I fuckin’ swear,” Ripp complained. “Nobody’s willin’ to commit when it comes to this sport. Not like back in the day.”

  I laughed. “Back in the day?”

  “Back in the day I used to fuck me three or four bitches a day. I’d bang ‘em in the parking lot at the grocery store, behind the Japanese joint, in my car, on my bike, shit…I even beat dude’s asses and fucked their ol’ ladies. But one thing I never did? Fuck on fight day.”

  I had my doubts that he was totally truthful.

  “I call bullshit.”

  “Call whatever you want,” Ripp growled. “It’s the fuckin’ truth. Now Dekk? Different story right there. He’d fuck Kace and step in the ring.”

  “And he’s undefeated, right?” I cocked an eyebrow. “And you’re not.”

  “Fuck off, Jaz.”

  “Shit,” Ethan said, the tone of his voice seeming almost concerned.

  I leaned forward and shot him a look. “What?”

  “Here he comes.”

  “He, who?”

  “Tiny. The guy I’m fighting.”

  I coughed a laugh. “He goes by Tiny?”

  He tossed his head toward the entrance.

  Ripp and I both turned toward the door. Wearing a wife beater, sweats, and flip-flops, a man with a six-inch tall Mohawk haircut was walking down the aisle toward us. From what I could see, he was every bit as big as Ripp, and Ripp was beyond compare.

  I fought to swallow. “You’re fighting him?”

  He crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded. I took another glance in Tiny’s direction. Surprised at the speed of his pace, I quickly turned back toward Ethan.

  Out of my peripheral, I watched him. He began to chuckle. I took another quick glance. He stepped within a few feet of me and pulled his gym bag strap over his shoulder. Then, he crossed his arms, mimicked Ethan’s stance, and looked right at me.

  “Keep turning around and lookin’, and you might convince me to give you some of this.” He thrust his hips back and forth wildly in my direction.

  Fucking asshole.

  I clenched my right fist and threw a right hook into his chin. The sound of bone hitting bone followed and his eyes went wide.

  And then, everything happened at the same time.

  He rubbed his jaw and dropped his bag. “You fucking bitch.”

  “Motherfucker!” Ripp shouted. He yanked me to the side by my shirt. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you!”

  “Come on, big boy,” Tiny bellowed. He curled his clenched fists toward his chest.

  Oh fuck.

  Ripp took a fighting stance.

  Above all of the shouting, Ethan screamed. His tone and the authority in his voice sent a chill down my spine. Oddly, it also provided me a strange sense of well-being.

  “Don’t fucking touch him!” Ethan growled. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Him.”

  He wasn’t angry. Or even mad. He was ready to kill.

  “I got this,” Ripp said over his shoulder.

  “I meant what I said, Ripp,” Ethan said, his voice demanding. “I’ll defend what’s mine, and I don’t need any fucking help.”

  Tiny kicked off his flip-flops. “Come on, pretty boy. When I’m done with ya, I’ll butt fuck ya, and then I’ll get started on your girl.”

  Ethan stepped around Ripp. As soon as he did, Tiny swung a right hook. Ethan dodged it, and immediately swung a hard right hand into the side of Tiny’s face.

  Tiny stumbled.

  Ethan hit him again with another right.

  And again.

  And again.

  Tiny stumbled away from the ring and into the aisle leading to the gym’s exit. People began to gather around.

  As Tiny fought to regain his footing, he swung a hopeful left. Ethan leaned back and the punch swung past him. He countered with a straight left, and it landed dead center on Tiny’s nose.

  Blood splattered everywhere.

  And Tiny fell onto the concrete floor.

  “Motherfucker,” Ethan said. “Get up.”

  Tiny moaned.

  Ethan shoved the heel of his boot against Tiny’s ribs. “I said get up.”

  There was no way he could get up. Ethan had hit him with five unanswered punches, all of which landed and landed hard. If anything, he needed an ambulance.

  Ethan leaned over him and grabbed a fistful of his Mohawk. Using his hair and the back of his sweats, he hoisted him onto his feet. His once white shirt was covered in blood, as was his face.

  “Apologize,” Ethan said. “Tell her you’re sorry for how you acted, cocksucker.”

  Tiny moaned.

  Ethan grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. “Apologize.”

  “Don’t kill him,” Ripp said.

  “He’s going to apologize,” Ethan growled.

  “Sorry,” Tiny said, his voice and almost inaudible whisper.

  “Not good enough,” Ethan said.

  He released his throat
. “Apologize.”

  Tiny shook his head and coughed a few times. Blood steadily trickled down his face. He looked like absolute hell. “I…uhhm. I’m…I’m sorry.”

  Ethan met my gaze. “Satisfied?”

  I nodded. “Very much so.”

  Ethan wrapped his arm around Tiny’s neck, picked up his gym bag, and dragged him all the way to the door. After kicking the door open with his foot, he shoved him and his bag out into the parking lot.

  Ripp looked at my hand. “Did you hurt your knuckles?”

  I shook my hand. Although it was sore, nothing was broken. Contrary to what is shown in movies and on television, beating someone with bare fists generally either displaces or breaks fingers. Mine, however was just sore. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Now that was an ass whippin’,” Ripp said as Ethan walked up.

  Ethan looked at his bloody hands. “He got what he deserved.”

  Ripp chuckled. “God damned sure did.”

  “Might need to take some time off fighting.” Ethan held his hands up. All of his knuckles were mangled terribly.

  “You’re gonna need some stitches,” Ripp said. “Or we can glue ‘em.”

  Ethan laughed. “I’ll get them stitched. And not by you.”

  He turned toward me. “Sorry about that.”

  “About what?”

  “How he treated you.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I said. “And you took care of it. Good thing, I was gonna whip his Mohawk wearing ass.”

  “You better take care of those hands,” Ripp said.

  Terrance, the kid who cleaned the gym, pushed a mop and a bucket between us. “Clean up on aisle seven.”

  We all shared a laugh as he mopped up the blood.

  After he finished, he plopped the mop into the bucket and leaned against the handle. “What was that about?”

  “About a man who doesn’t know how to be respectful to a lady,” Ripp said.

  Ethan nodded. “What he said.”

  “If I was disrespectful to a lady, I’d be slapped so hard my grandkids will feel it. That’s what my pop tells me.”

  “Your pop sounds like a good man,” Ripp said.

  Terrance grinned and nodded his head. “Alright, then. Try and stay out of trouble.”

  After a few minutes of talking, we agreed Ethan needed to go to the minor emergency center for stitches.

  “I’m gonna go talk to Dekk,” Ripp said.

  “I’m driving him to the doctor,” I said.

  “Tomorrow,” Ripp said over his shoulder.

  Ethan and I walked to the door and I jokingly pushed it open for him. “Don’t want you any more banged up than you already are.”

  He stepped through the door, turned toward me, and chuckled. “I’m fine. Ten or twelve stitches and…”

  Out of nowhere, something hit him in the head. It came so fast it took me a minute to realize what had happened, but by the time my mind processed it, it was too late.

  He fell flat onto the asphalt.

  I rushed through the door. Tiny stood over him with crazy eyes and a baseball bat. Unconscious, Ethan lay on his back with his hands at his sides.

  Oh my God.

  Tiny raised the bat over his head.

  “No!” I yelled. “Don’t!”

  He glanced at me, grinned, and swung the bat down hard, crashing it into Ethan’s skull.

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  “Nooooo!” I cried.

  I fell to my knees and thrust myself over Ethan, protecting his body with mine. I raised my right arm in defense. “Please. Please,” I blubbered. “Don’t. You’re going to kill him.”

  I looked down. Ethan’s skull was split open. Blood was everywhere. I cradled his head in my hands. Someone came through the door and screamed.

  “Get Ripp,” I cried out. “And call 911. We need an ambulance. Hurry!”

  I reached into his bag, pulled out his sleeveless sweatshirt, and wrapped it around his bloody skull.

  And I cried like I had never cried before.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Jaz

  Day ninety.

  It wasn’t the way I wanted to meet Ethan’s parents, but I had very little choice. Dekk, Ripp, Kelsey, Ethan’s mother and father, his siblings, and a doctor were all in the waiting room.

  “There are so many factors, Mr. Halloway. The damage to the skull was severe, therefore the damage to the brain was severe. There are issues with secondary damage due to inadequate cerebral oxygenation, and we have no way of knowing the effects on a grand scale. It’s simply too early to tell.”

  “When will he be awake?” his father asked.

  His mother moved her hand away from her mouth. “He doesn’t know, William.”

  “He knows. He’s the doctor,” he growled. He turned away from Ethan’s mother and faced the doctor again. “When?”

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “Right now, it’s not a matter of when. I don’t want to mislead you. It’s a matter of if. And an awfully big if.”

  Oh God.

  Ripp hugged me.

  The police had already arrested Tiny. It came as no shock to me that he had several warrants for his arrest. Personally, I wished the police hadn’t found him. Street justice, in my opinion, is best in some circumstances.

  This was one of them.

  I attempted to prepare myself for the worst, but couldn’t. Each time I tried to imagine Ethan dying, it caused me to start blubbering uncontrollably.

  Fighting didn’t matter. Championships didn’t matter. Money didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but having Ethan healthy and back in my arms.

  “Want to go get a coffee?” Ripp asked.

  “You hate coffee,” I said. “Ethan…”

  I started to say Ethan told me, but couldn’t even say his name. I bit into my lip, reached for Ripp’s hand, and nodded. Grateful that I had him not only as my trainer, but as a friend, I followed him as he turned toward the hallway.

  It seemed that there were three groups of people concerned with Ethan’s recovery. All of his friends, his siblings, and then his parents. They had no interest in mingling with us, talking to us, or sharing information. What little we had learned was from overhearing what the doctor said while speaking to his parents.

  Oddly, Ethan’s brother and sister were seated in another area of the waiting room altogether, on a couch. They seemed to have no interest in Ethan’s parents, us, or the doctor.

  I wanted it all to end, and everything to go back to normal.

  Ripp stomped down the hallway with my hand in his. I fought to catch up to him and recalled the first day of training when he all but dragged me into the sporting goods store. “Slow down.”

  “Sorry, Jaz,” he said. “I’m just mad I didn’t kill that motherfucker myself.”

  “That’s all you need to do. Kill someone else,” Dekk said. “Justice will be served. The security cameras got it all. That guy’s fucked.”

  “You uhhm. You…killed someone.”

  Ripp stopped. “I ain’t proud of it, but yeah. This fucktard did my sister real bad. Raped her. I went to his house, we got into it, and I broke his fuckin’ neck.”

  “Did you go to prison?”

  “Self-defense,” he said. “He pulled a gun.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

  He shrugged “Happily married now.”

  It surprised me, but it didn’t. Ripp seemed like the kind of guy that would do anything to protect the people he loved. To think of his sister being raped was awful. Realizing Ripp took care of the situation, and of the person who did it, however, was oddly satisfying.

  The four of us went to the cafeteria, bought drinks, and sat down. For some time, no one spoke.

  “The kid’s got a huge heart. That’ll get him through a lot,” Kelsey said, breaking the silence. “Damned good how he stood up for you. Show’s how much you mean to him. Now, it’s your turn. You’re a strong woman, Spaz. Stay str
ong. We’ll all get through this together.”

  I liked that Kelsey called me Spaz even when things were serious. It let me know the nickname he’d given me was more out of affection than out of spite.

  “I’ll be strong,” I said. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “None of us do,” Ripp said. “Every damned one of us is a fighter. It’s in our blood. Ethan included. We need to fight out here, and be strong for him. He’ll fight his own fight down the hall in ICU. I look at it this way: he’s sleepin’ right now. That fuck bubble hurt him real bad, and he just needs to sleep it off. Hell, as tough as he is, he probably ain’t hurt that bad.”

  I thought of Ethan’s skull, and how it was split open when the ambulance arrived. My stomach convulsed. I reached across the table. Rip extended his arm and grabbed my hand.

  I squeezed it in mine, once again grateful that I had him as a friend. While I stared blankly off in the distance, I felt someone’s fingers against my other hand. I looked down. Kelsey had my hand in his, cupping it lightly.

  I gripped his hand in return.

  I glanced at Dekk.

  He didn’t speak, but simply gave me a nod of his head, grinned his shallow grin, and pulled his hood over his head.

  And I knew I was where I needed to be.

  With the only family I had.

  But it was all the family I needed.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Jaz

  Day ninety-three.

  Juggling work, training, and my visits to the hospital wasn’t easy. At least twice a day I made it to see Ethan, then worked and trained for the fight as I was able.

  I knew all three things were important, but in different ways. Upon waking up, if Ethan found out I’d given up on my title fight, he’d be pretty disappointed with me. That reason alone motivated me to continue training. I had to work to pay my rent and eat, so it was a necessity as well.

  Seeing Ethan, even as he slept his days away in a coma, remained the highlight of my day.

  The skin under his eyes was bruised terribly, as were his cheeks, and all of his pretty hair was gone. It wasn’t anything a hat couldn’t fix, so I bought him a stocking cap. I tried to find the good in it all, and thanked God that the man responsible for harming him was in custody. I also thanked God that Ethan was alive during every visit and every night before bed. In my prayers I explained that I’d settle for him the way he was if it was all I could get.