The Beat and The Pulse Box Set 1

by Amity Cross

  The referee stood between us as we sized each other up, and raised his hand.

  “You know the rules,” he said. “Fight till one of you can’t go on or taps out. Keep it classy gentlemen.”

  I snorted and assumed the position, ready for whatever this dude was going to throw at me. I had to rely on my training and instincts and not lean on my anger. My emotions had to sit this one out.

  As I expected, the other fighter danced around me like a fuckin’ fairy, darting in and trying to land a punch, but I deflected them all with ease. He didn’t seem very experienced, at least not with MMA. He was a boxer maybe? Seemed like it from the way he pranced about.

  The only thing he was making me was pissed. The next time he approached, I ducked low and rammed my shoulder into his guts and he grunted in surprise. In one fluid movement, I hurled him over my shoulder. Fuckin’ kids.

  He landed on the flat of his back and the air whooshed from his lungs. The crowd screamed from someplace far away, but I couldn’t hear any of it. My mind was totally fixed on the fight and nothing else.

  I lunged, punching down towards his stomach with all my force, but at the last second the slimy bastard rolled to the side and the crowd let out a collective gasp.

  My fist connected with the floor with a crack, the force of the blow jarring through my bones. I pulled back instantly and didn’t flinch as I saw the fresh blood from my knuckles smeared on the mat. If it wasn’t for Ren’s expert hand wrapping, I would’ve broken all four knuckles. Fuckin’ Spitfire. I was going to get her off however she wanted later on for that.

  With a roar, I lunged after him, clipping a punch off his right cheek. Not a direct hit, but enough to daze him for a moment. I shoved the little fucker up against the chain-link and landed a punch on his jaw, not hard enough to break it, but hard enough that he’d be feeling it for weeks. His head snapped to the side and blood oozed between his lips as his teeth cut up the inside of his cheek. While he was stunned, I rammed a knee into his balls and shoved him to the mat. He landed hard, grunting as he landed on his shoulder at an awkward angle.

  Was that all the fuck he had in him? Fuckin’ hell. Two seconds and he was already pissing his pants.

  I towered over the guy as his gaze met mine and it was full of fear. He was in way over his head and he knew it. He slammed his palm down on the mat over and over and the referee stepped in, shoving me backwards.

  Tapped out. Smart move, kid. Smart move.

  Without waiting for the referee to call it, I turned my back on the scene and strode for the exit. The cage door opened as I approached and I stepped out, the sweat and blood that stuck to my skin cooling as cold air pulsed around me from the air con overhead. As the glare from the bright lights of the ring faded from my vision, the first person I saw was my Spitfire. Just like she’d promised.

  “Your hand,” she exclaimed, pulling at my arm.

  “It’ll be okay,” I said scanning the crowd, feeling like that whole bout had been way too easy. “I’ll ice it.”

  “He didn’t last long,” she said, glancing around me into the cage.

  “He was just a kid,” I said with a grunt. “The real fights don’t start until they get lost.”

  Ren frowned at me, but pulled at my arm again. “Let’s get you some ice, big man.”

  I grunted, rolling my head and cracking my neck.

  “Should I have called you Ice Man instead?” she asked with a laugh, referencing the place she’d gotten my nickname from. Top Gun.

  “No. Maverick was way cooler.” I threw my arm over her shoulder as we walked out of the arena. “He got the girl.”

  27

  Ren

  Truthfully, I’d been worried about Ash’s first fight.

  He’d been a mess of emotions the last time he’d fought in the cage and I was painfully aware that it might resurface once he was standing in the exact same spot where he’d almost killed a man. I knew enough about these things to realize it might be a trigger for him, that a year under house arrest with on and off medication and miss-managed therapy might’ve broken him more.

  There was no way of telling what would happen until he was back in the cage and facing his demons head on. He’d fought and won, come face-to-face with Hammer and was still hanging on. In stark contrast, I’d been the one to break.

  Ash had had his turn and tonight was mine. Word on the street was that since the pool had been thinned by the new womens AUFC league, that it wouldn’t be so easy. Rumor had it that I was going to be paired with Rogue. Hammer’s ex. As if I wasn’t under enough pressure. Like salt in an open wound, they had to shove me straight into the deep end with a fighter who hated my guts. Awesome.

  I was in the kitchen at Beat, enjoying a few moments of peace while Ash was showering and the Twins were still yet to show, when I heard a noise at the door. Glancing up from my bowl of cereal, I dropped my spoon when my gaze collided with someone I thought I’d never see again for as long as we both shall live.

  Monica Miller.

  She hadn’t been back to Beat since the day that Ash had walked in and things had blown up. The last time I’d seen my half-sister was when she was running from the place, tears streaming from her eyes. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her, especially after everything that’d happened between us, but I seemed to have a heart. I wanted to hurt her, I wanted to see how she liked being touched up by a rapist, but I didn’t see the point at stooping to their level. I don’t know how they did it, but I couldn’t live with myself.

  Bottom line was, Monica Miller wasn’t evil. All she was guilty of was loving a man who didn’t love her back.

  Crazy in love.

  “Where’s Ash?” she asked, her voice wavering.

  “In the shower,” I replied. “You better get out before he sees you.”

  We hadn’t spoken about her since the day she’d come clean and I didn’t know what he’d do if he saw her now. He had enough on his plate with The Underground and Hammer without having that shit brought up again.

  “Ren, I—”

  I snorted, glaring at my sister with the fire of a thousand suns and she clamped her mouth shut, but then she did something I never knew she was capable of. She grew a spine and stepped forward, clearly on the offensive.

  “Dad won’t speak to me and I’ve got no job.” She sniffed, her eyes starting to glass. “Even Mum is disappointed in me.”

  I wanted to spit back at her and tell her that I hoped she was miserable, but it didn’t seem classy. I had to stay classy.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did to you and Ash.”

  I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath. I had no way of knowing if the pain she felt was even a match for mine when Ash was gone. There was no way of knowing, no way of describing the ache that had been left behind in my soul. Nobody knew how much something affected someone except themselves. Heartache was a private kind of pain.

  “I don’t think I will ever accept your apology,” I said, glancing at her. “I can’t right now. Not until this thing is over.”

  “Ren, please.”

  It seemed important to her that she had my forgiveness, but it was something I couldn’t give her.

  I shook my head. Rape and violence. That was the fate she’d thrown my way whether she mean to or not. “The damage has been done. There’s nothing else to say.”

  She flinched, wrapping her arms around her stomach and nodded. Without another word she turned like she was wounded and slunk out of the kitchen. I watched her go, a curious feeling bubbling through my skin, before digging my spoon back into my breakfast.

  At least it was something knowing that she had to live with her choices for the rest of her life. Wasn’t that punishment enough? She regretted what she’d done; she’d lost the respect of her parents, her friends, lost her job… At what point was it enough?

  One day Monica would find redemption, but it wasn’t going to be anytime soon.

  * * *

  After Ash’s spect
acular return to the cage as Maverick, The Underground was buzzing. There was an electricity in the air that I hadn’t felt since those first few weeks I’d spent here with him and it filled my veins and sparked in my soul. It gave me the kick start I desperately needed to dive headfirst into the game once more.

  Sitting in the fighter’s section of the bleachers, I watched Ash squaring off against his rival in the cage. Fight number two and he was way more confident this time. It was like I’d told him. There was no way he could forget. He was stronger than everything.

  There was a whoosh of air as a bulky body sat next to me and I flinched, jerking away at the sudden movement.

  “Settle down, Darlin’,” Hamish, aka The Goblin, declared. “I ain’t gunna bite.”

  My heart thumped in my chest before settling back into its usual rhythm. “Don’t fucking do that.”

  “Ash asked me to hang out with you,” he said in his thick Irish accent.

  I scowled. “Did he just.”

  “He’s just lookin’ out for you Reign, no need to get your knickers in a twist.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to the fight, watching Ash and his opponent circle each other. He wouldn’t know if I was watching or not, he was always single minded when he was in the cage, but no doubt he’d quiz me on it later and Hamish was ruining my vibe.

  “That man is a bloody prodigy.”

  I knew Hamish meant to say prodigy, but his accent made it sound like he’d said ‘proodjee’.

  I knew that Ash could’ve fought in the pro leagues, gone overseas and been in the running to be a world champ. He had everything that it took and then some, but he’d never mentioned much about his short-lived stint in the AUFC. I didn’t even know if that’s what he’d wanted. I made a mental note to ask him about it later.

  Anyway, fighting wasn’t the kind of career that was long term. He would’ve made his money and then what? What would I’ve done when I was either too old or sidelined by an injury to keep on keeping on? I had absolutely no idea.

  I reckon I’d keep on fighting while I still had the chance.

  “Why didn’t you ever try for the pro leagues?” I asked Hamish. The crowd surged around us as Ash landed another hit on his opponent, but we were safe from being jostled up on the bleachers.

  Hamish clapped with the crowd, watching his competition in the cage. “I never liked rules,” he said with a wink. “They would’ve kicked me out in the first round for mouthin’ off.”

  “So you prefer slumming it with the rabble rather than the bright lights?”

  Hamish laughed. “There are better payouts here. Less scrutiny. The regulations aren’t strict. No off season.”

  “So you just want to beat people up for money?”

  “Somethin’ like that.”

  “Where’s the skill in that?”

  “There’s skill in everything, Reign. Even violence. You of all people should understand that.”

  Fuck, did I understand it. Skill was what got fighter’s through to the end without tapping, not brawn. Brawn was nothing unless you could back it up with the brains.

  “That pretty blonde publicist,” Hamish said, his eyes sparkling. “The one that came here one night, can you do somethin’ about that?”

  “Josie?” I asked, my eyebrows rising.

  “She’s a pretty one, to be sure.”

  I looked him up and down. “You saw her once. A year ago.”

  “I’ve seen her around since then, Reign. A man never forgets a pretty face.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” I drawled.

  He tapped a finger against his forehead and wiggled his eyebrows. “If she’s feisty, we take note.”

  I feigned throwing up. “I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.”

  He just winked at me with a cocky grin and turned back to watch the fight. I regarded him for a moment and wondered what his game was. Did he give a shit about what happened to Ash and me? There was a big chance that he wouldn’t even make the Championship bout this round and that meant he stood to lose a lot of money.

  Hamish glanced at me and smiled. “You’re up against Rogue tonight?” He let out a long whistle. “That’s somethin’ I wanna see.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” I replied, turning back to the cage where Ash was laying into his opponent.

  Hamish was laid-back, charming, handsome and talented, but he had nothing on Ash. Nobody even came close. If there was a star in all this shit and scum, it was Ash Fuller.

  He was different in so many ways; I could scarcely count them all. I watched the bevy of women that screamed for his attention, thrusting their tits his way and fluttering their eyelashes, hoping that he’d throw them a bone. A few bucks and a quick fuck. It used to make me mad with rage that they’d paw at him while I was standing right next to him. Jealous eyes, claws bared, looks of disdain...all aimed at me because plain old Ren Miller, Reign of Terror, obviously wasn’t pretty enough to bag the sexiest fighter at The Underground.

  All these people screamed for him, but it was me his eyes found amongst the noise. It was him that my body gravitated towards. It was me that he took home. It was me he saw through the things that others thought were shortcomings. It was me he loved.

  It was Ash that calmed the nerves inside me and gave me the strength to get through. We were a team. Together we were stronger.

  The referee in the ring was bellowing Ash’s name, Maverick, over and over, declaring him the winner. I stood and bounded down the bleachers, leaving Hamish behind, and shoved through the crowd not giving a fuck who I pissed off.

  I needed one last kiss before it was my turn. One last kiss for luck.

  It was my time to fight.

  28

  Ren

  I smacked into Ash the moment he left the cage, circling my arms around his neck.

  His eyes widened slightly, but he caught me and held me close. He was all sweaty and stunk, but I didn’t give a shit.

  “Kiss me for luck,” I said.

  With a stupid grin on his face, he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me hard. His tongue swept into my mouth and I tasted the salt from his skin. If I didn’t have to fight, I’m sure he would’ve taken me someplace and let his excess energy do the talking and I’m sure I wouldn’t have stopped him. We were oblivious to the catcalls around us as we gave the crowd a little show.

  He pulled away with a groan and considering how hard he felt against my thigh, I couldn’t blame him for grumbling.

  “How’s that?” he asked.

  “Brilliant.”

  “You know I’m hard now, right?”

  I laughed. “Sure do.”

  “You need help with these?” he asked, grasping my hands in his.

  I shook my head. “Nup.”

  “Then what am I good for?”

  I raised my eyebrow. “That’s a loaded question Maverick.”

  “I’m sure we’ll talk about that one later.”

  “I plan on it.”

  “Good luck,” he murmured, pressing his lips to mine.

  I smiled against his mouth and pulled back. “I’ll be fine. It’s Rogue after all.”

  “Old rivalries die hard Spitfire.”

  “She might be an epic bitch, but she was always a class act in the cage.”

  “But—”

  “Hammer dumped her the same time as…” I trailed off, not wanting to dredge up old shit. “I think enough time has passed that things might be at least a little equal where payback is concerned.”

  Ash dragged his fingers through my ponytail. “Just watch her. I don’t trust anyone who’s associated with that dipshit.”

  “It’s the name of the game,” I said. “Wait for me.” I backed away toward the change rooms.

  “Fuckin’ oath, I’ll wait,” he called after me.

  Smiling to myself, I weaved through the crowd, leaving Ash behind to sort himself out. He understood without me telling him that I wanted a little quiet time to prepare myself before t
he fight. That was one of the very few ways we were different.

  Stepping into the change room, my gaze collided with Rogue’s. She was standing to one side, wrapping her hands and when she saw me, she scowled. So nothing had changed there then.

  Ignoring her, I pulled my stuff out of my locker and began pulling my gear out. If she was trying to psych me out before my first fight of the season, she wasn’t going to get anywhere. I’d been mentally preparing myself for this the moment I saw my name drawn next to hers.

  I’d never forget the first bout I’d fought at The Underground. Call it beginner’s luck or whatever you wanted, but I’d been paired with the meanest woman fighter out there and I’d knocked her out cold. It was probably the worst thing I could’ve done walking into that cage as a newbie. Worst, meaning that I’d put a target on my back by humiliating one of the top place getters on my first try. Still, it was a rush I’d never forget.

  Maybe tonight would be an action replay.

  Maybe I shouldn’t get too big for my boots.

  Rogue eyed me as I strapped my hands in for our fight. I glanced at her, wondering why she wasn’t saying anything. She wasn’t the kind of woman who held back…or gave a shit what other people thought about her.

  “What?” I asked when I couldn’t take her staring anymore.

  “They’re planning something,” she said simply.

  I didn’t have to ask who they were. “Planning what?”

  “How the fuck should I know?” she declared with a flick of her hair. “I was dumped the moment you were, so why do you think I know shit?”

  “Then why are you warning me?”

  “I hate your fucking guts, but I hate his more.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Fair enough.”

  “Just watch your back and tell your boyfriend to do the same. This time will be different.”

  I wondered how different. They wouldn’t try the same tactic with a full-on physical attack. They’d know we’d be expecting it. They couldn’t beat him in a fight, not even in the cage, but there was one thing they could use if we weren’t careful. Maybe this time it’d be full on psychological warfare. Use his anger and mine, wear us both down and strike at the right moment.