Student Bodyguard for Hire

by Callie James

  “Time?” I asked.

  “To see the fight. They always leave his fights for last.” Isabel called out to Savanna then and she turned to her mom and back at me. “Ask for Bobby. Tell him Sam’s expecting you or he won’t let you in.” Her mouth curled up at the corner, reminding me of Sam’s reluctant smile when he didn’t quite believe me. “I can tell you care about him, Peyton. I guess we’ll soon see how much.” She turned and sprinted back where her mom waited for her.

  Adam stared at me. “Well, obviously you should go. Right?”

  “I should,” I said, nodding. “Probably.”

  “Let me drive you.” He grabbed my keys from me. “In this state you’re likely to get yourself killed.”

  *****

  “Want me to come with you for moral support?” Adam asked, turning to me.

  I hadn’t said a word to Adam on the drive there, having no idea what to say. Everyone had warned me. Sam had denied belonging to a fight club or a gang, but this building hadn’t a single sign that I could see.

  Seemed underground to me.

  “No,” I said, grabbing the passenger door handle. “This is between Sam and me. I should do it alone. Just … wait. No matter what. Okay?”

  He took a deep breath and nodded.

  I stepped from the car and headed toward the front of the slum-like warehouse building. Showing up without a word of warning felt dishonest, but if Sam was truly fighting tonight, then honesty shouldn’t be high on my priority list. A light glowed next to a battered door and bar-covered window with a small sign behind it that read MMA Northwest.

  From what I could see, the inside looked normal, almost welcoming. I opened the door and a rush of warmth blew past me as loud cheers sounded somewhere else in the building. Two men perched on stools behind a tall counter stared at a computer screen.

  “Yes!” The younger one with a shaved head smacked the counter with an open hand. “And that’s a takedown.”

  “Excuse me,” I said, voice shaking.

  The boy jerked his head in my direction, his green eyes widening. He hit the other man’s arm. The thirty-something guy finished watching whatever on the screen and turned to me, the bridge of his nose so crooked that my attention immediately fixated on it. A beige woolen cap and a toothpick protruding from his mouth made his dockworker look more unpleasant as he gave me a not-so-subtle once-over. “Can I interest you in a membership, darlin’?” he asked.

  Exhaustion caused the darling comment to squash my last nerve, but I shook my head and sucked it up. “I’m supposed to ask for Bobby.”

  “You found him,” he said, grinning and sliding off the stool.

  The man stood maybe five feet, four inches, an inch shorter than I did. The man seriously didn’t need height to intimidate. Between his barrel chest and those arms resembling chiseled stone, I threw out Sam’s name just to feel safe again. “I came to see Sam Guerra fight tonight.”

  “You’re just in time,” he said, nodding to the flat screen and jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s in the cage.”

  I blinked. “The cage?”

  He frowned. “Want me to show you where it’s at? Can’t say I recall seeing you here before. I’d remember if I had.”

  “This is my first time here, so yes. If you wouldn’t mind.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re a friend of Sam’s?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed hard as he studied me. “Girlfriend.”

  He shoved his hands into his gym pants pockets. “Figures.” He nodded his head toward the back. “Follow me. I’ll show you where everybody’s at.”

  He hadn’t exaggerated. The place seemed practically deserted while I followed him through the building, taking several twists and turns. Despite the building’s iffy exterior, the inside was huge, practically new in appearance with its well-lit rooms and white walls. Wall-length mirrors made some rooms seem doubled in size. Mats covered floors and lined walls. Spaced apart throughout some areas and crowded in others, all the equipment appeared well used but in good shape. Heavy, hanging bags littered one area, leaving little walking space between, and several more rooms held rows of cardio and strength-training gear.

  The dampness and familiar locker room odors drifted past me as he led me into the largest area, what looked like a gymnasium. Two empty boxing rings filled one side, and an octagon, elevated cage filled the other, along with sixty or so people cheering loudly. The thing had steel wire, what appeared to be a chain-linked fence, re-enforced with panels and padding.

  The acronym. MMA. I finally remembered it. Mixed martial arts. A sport so extreme and violent it remained under constant scrutiny to ban.

  I hopped twice to peer over the men and women blocking my view, only to see a blur of movement inside the cage. Stumbling forward, I tried to get a better view. Someone yelled Sam’s name. My eyes pivoted to the cage’s corner. A bald, burly man with arms so large they wouldn’t quite drop to his sides yelled Sam’s name again, along with instructions. Blood rushed in my ears, along with the loud shouts from people surrounding me, keeping me from hearing what he said. I followed the man’s gaze to Sam in the center of the cage. He moved fast, a blur of speed and muscle wearing nothing except long, black shorts as he dodged a kick to the face, only to catch a quick follow-up kick to the jaw that knocked him hard to the platform.

  “You meet Jonas yet?” Bobby asked casually.

  I shook my head. Sam had taken a smack to the face by a man clearly intent on breaking his jaw. I couldn’t care less about Jonas right now.

  “He’s the cornerman yelling at your boyfriend.”

  Dammit, I couldn’t see anything. Taking several more steps forward, I watched Sam work his way out of a hold. He flipped the other man onto his back and hit him with fists wrapped in black, fingerless mitts. The things seemed thin as gardening gloves. No way did they spare his hands from the impact. Or his opponent’s face, which snapped grotesquely to the side after a third hit. Sam stood. His massive opponent, wearing yellow shorts, pivoted and used his legs to grab Sam and twist him back to the ground.

  I stood on my tiptoes but couldn’t get close enough to see anything. Noticing an arm, then two legs and feet, I moved to see Sam pop off the ground, as did his opponent, who plowed into him and pinned him to the cage. Cheers sounded.

  Sam held the man in a bent-over position and slammed his knee into his face three times. A referee walked around them, observing and backing up when Sam’s opponent pulled out of the hold. Sam slammed him to the side of the cage and started punching his side, violent and relentless.

  I shut my eyes tightly until a horn sounded.

  “Jonas tries to hold a cage match once a month,” Bobby said. I blinked my eyes open to see Sam making his way to the opposite side where Jonas had a stool waiting. “We get a larger crowd when Sam’s fighting.”

  I had to ask. “Why?”

  “It’s his boxing background. His matches tend to be less floor work and a lot of action up top. Lots of punches. Not a boring second with that kid in the cage. You watch. Somewhere during the second round, he’ll get serious. He uses the first round like a second warm up. Know what I mean?”

  Sam breathed hard, taking small sips of water, his focus on Jonas’ face as he nodded to everything his cornerman instructed.

  I turned to Bobby. “I can’t see his expression from here but he looks pretty serious to me.”

  Bobby grinned. “You’d know if Sam got serious, darlin’. Trust me. Right now, he’s getting a feel for the differences in Javier’s technique. He’s testing him. Forcing him to stay off the platform and work those punches that he helped him hone the last five weeks. But once he’s had enough fooling around, your sweetie pie is gonna turn into a killer.”

  A minute couldn’t have passed when Sam and his opponent stood while both cornermen grabbed their stools, kits, and left the cage. The ref yelled a few words and the two fighters went at each other again. Javier landed a kick to Sam’s face and his head snapped back from
the blow. He didn’t drop this time but shrugged off the kick and bounced backward, taunting Javier then with a wave. His opponent snarled and rushed him, hitting him in the stomach and taking him all the way back to the cage wall. Sam moved to his right and placed the man in a hold, quickly flipping his opponent into the air. Javier landed on one foot and brought his other leg across Sam’s torso, clamping down on his body and pulling Sam to the platform. Javier moved like a gymnast, and even from the back, I could hear the thud.

  I shut my eyes tightly while Bobby mumbled, “Javier has a mean scissors takedown.”

  I opened my eyes to see Javier holding Sam’s leg twisted in what looked like a painful hold. Sam pulled out of it easily and popped from the floor. Javier followed, hitting Sam several times in the back and grabbing him around the ribs to lift him off the platform.

  Sam’s feet left the ground only seconds when he pulled up his elbow and viciously hit Javier’s face with the back of it, until he freed himself from the hold.

  “Oh, yes indeedy,” Bobby said. “This is getting serious.”

  It nauseated me to watch, yet I couldn’t turn away. Sam pivoted and bounced back on his feet in time to avoid another kick to the face.

  My vision framed black as I focused completely on Sam.

  He looked so …alive. Focused. Breathing deeply yet not out of breath. For the first time since I’d walked in, I was able to block out the violence long enough to absorb the small details I could see from the back. The definition of muscle was visible only by his smooth, solid moves. I could see the blur of dark tattoos winding along his upper arms. Another tattoo on his back took up the lower left quarter, making it impossible to miss. His body went beyond athletic. Sam was perfect.

  “You’re quiet over there,” Bobby said. “I take it you haven’t seen this side of him.”

  If he meant half-naked, then yeah, this was all very new to me. I watched Sam and Javier trade body blows while Sam backed him into a corner. “This doesn’t look like training to me.”

  “Training?” Bobby let out a blunt laugh. “You could call it that. Jonas puts Sam in with anyone needing to beef up his boxing game. One serious right hook from the kid and you can forget it. Next thing you know you’re staring at the ceiling and he’s on you like a dog with a bone. Game over.”

  Sam pulled from a hold and twisted, putting Javier into a headlock. The man struggled to release himself while everyone cheered. He hit Sam twice in the ribs to get him to release. Sam only adjusted his hold.

  Javier’s face turned purple. “Shouldn’t someone stop this?” I asked. “He’s going to black out.”

  Bobby laughed, clapped and whistled loudly.

  I wished Sam would win. It would be over then. But Javier continued to struggle, his movements futile until he brought his hand up to place it behind Sam’s neck, his other hand moving around Sam’s leg. In one lift, he threw Sam’s entire body through the air and onto his back, hard enough to rumble the platform.

  I cringed, tears blurring my vision as I moved forward with the crowd to see if Javier had broken Sam’s neck. People shifted and moved forward. Shouted. Cheered.

  I grabbed my stomach and hoped I wouldn’t throw up.

  Bobby’s hand touched my elbow. “Don’t worry. I told you, he’s not serious. You can see how mad Jonas is about it, too.”

  My gaze flew to Jonas’s red face, the only indicator from back here that the man was ready to kill someone.

  “He wants your boyfriend in the cage, and not for these little matches,” Bobby said. “Sam’s got what it takes to go UFC. Anybody can throw a punch, but Sammy has a killer combo you wouldn’t believe. Great instincts. Quick reflexes, too. The best I’ve seen in a long time, given his training.”

  Please get serious. The words passed through my head like a mantra. Sam and Javier grappled but I couldn’t see squat due to the beefcakes standing in my way. Periodically, I spotted arms and flailing legs. I jumped several times, looking over shoulders and moving forward, pushing past people as Bobby followed me. “How long has he been doing this?” I asked, trying to distract myself.

  “Sam started boxing at six. Maybe five. I can’t remember. His old man taught him.”

  “No, I meant this. The mixed martial … stuff.”

  His grin twisted. “Jonas says he knew the kid had it the second he saw him in a real match. I think he was eight?”

  “Had it?”

  “The gift. Fighting is the kid’s calling.” He laughed once. “His old man said he was born hitting. Sam’s confident but not stupid. A quick learner. He watches a move once and picks it up. A real natural. And damn, the kid is fast. Jonas and his dad were longtime friends. It didn’t take more than a suggestion to get Luis on board with training seriously. Sam started jiu-jitsu and kickboxing right after. Jonas taught him personally. That’s high praise, believe me.”

  Sam stood, bouncing backward, and Javier went after him.

  “Javier’s jiu-jitsu is good,” Bobby said. “Real good. He’s a bit of a brawler though. Jonas and Sam have been working with him for several weeks now.”

  “Working with him?”

  “Yep. To get his boxing skills up to par.”

  “Why would Sam help train the man he’s fighting?”

  “Javier’s got a real match in a couple months. The other fighter’s technique is similar to Sam’s. Notice Javier is consistently trying to take Sam to the ground. That’s his area. If he can get a good hold on Sam, he might get him to tap.”

  “Tap?”

  He nodded. “You tap.” He patted my shoulder to demonstrate. “You know, to yield or surrender. Although, I doubt Sam would ever do it, even if it meant a broken arm or leg.”

  Things blurred and my head got woozy.

  When the next kick came at Sam, he smacked it away and jumped back three steps. His head dipped to the side as Javier studied him. I sensed a change in Sam and I couldn’t have said why. Was it in the set of his shoulders? Or the sudden stillness in his stance?

  Suddenly, I felt scared for Javier.

  “There it is,” Bobby muttered. “We’re too far back to see, but he has a murderous expression when he gets down to business.”

  “He’s serious now?” I took a step forward.

  “I’ll say,” he said, moving with me as he shifted his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “Say goodnight, Javier.”

  Sam lunged, releasing a swift kick to Javier’s side, who tried deflecting the blow by tightening his midsection and dropping his hand. The few unguarded seconds gave Sam all the time he needed to burst forward and land two punches to Javier’s face—a crushing upper cut, followed by a right hook, delivered so hard and fast that Javier fell to his back in a blink. The crowd erupted in cheers and Sam jumped over him, straddling Javier’s waist to pummel him relentlessly. I cupped my hands, covering my mouth, too shocked to scream as the ref slipped between both fighters and shoved Sam away.

  “Yep,” Bobby said next to me. “Told you. Man, he’s exciting to watch, ain’t he?”

  Bile rose. Javier hadn’t moved yet.

  “Well, obviously Javier has more training to do,” Bobby added thoughtfully.

  At Javier’s side, Sam dropped to his knees opposite the ref, saying something while helping the other bleary-eyed man to his feet. Javier had been lucid only seconds ago and now looked as though someone had hit him over the head with a concrete block. They bumped gloves and Sam said a few words while patting him on the shoulder.

  Jonas met Sam at the cage door and handed him his shirt and water.

  Still cupping my mouth, I watched them descend the stairs. People moved around me, their voices distant as my pulse sounded in my ears. Sam handed the water back to Jonas and pulled out his mouthpiece, walking into the crowd and disappearing from my view. Bobby gabbed about a back injury next to me that ended his own fighting career. When I spotted Sam again, he was closer, too close, and walking in my direction while pulling the black t-shirt over his head.


  There under the bright lights, I glimpsed two jagged scars stretched across Sam’s abdomen, just before he finished covering his sweaty torso with the material.

  He stared at the floor, looking intense as he listened to Jonas.

  Nausea had me pushing my fingers over my mouth as I glanced toward the door, the crowd disbursing back into the gym that bottlenecked my way out. I backed up another step, planning to run through them if I had to.

  That’s when Sam turned, looked up, and saw me.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sam

  I jerked to a stop and someone slammed into me, muttered a quick apology, and walked around.

  Jonas turned, still talking and oblivious to my holy-shit moment. He smacked my arm. “You listening to me, boy? Your pops would kick your ass right now. You’re gonna get your fool head knocked off one of these days going into a match with that lackadaisical attitude. Just ‘cause you’re no longer fighting for a belt, doesn’t mean you can screw around. You do that once more and you can forget the cage. I’m about pissed enough that I may pull you out of rotation altogether.” He gave my jaw a soft slap. “Hey. Look at me.”

  “I heard you,” I muttered, my gaze remaining glued on those round, blue eyes.

  A lie. The truth. Not a single sentence came to mind that would explain what she’d just witnessed. She’d seen the last part of the fight, which meant she’d seen a side of me that terrified my own mother. Regret pulled me back to so many moments I could have told Peyton the truth. If I had, she wouldn’t be looking at me now as if she didn’t know me.

  Guilt made me want to turn away but I couldn’t. Not while those watering eyes burned with questions, accusations, and the knowledge that I’d purposely kept all this from her. It didn’t take a genius to guess why I hadn’t told her.

  She never would have agreed to go out with me.

  Jonas followed my gaze. “You know that girl?”