DS Fight Club Box Set (Volumes 0-3)
Page 57
Junior flashed his dimples and hopped up. He pulled Derek up and kissed him hard.
“Let’s go to bed, then. We gotta be ready for tomorrow.”
.
Playlist
Last Day of Our Acquaintance – Sinead O’Connor
Lover Man – The Communards
Smalltown Boy – Bronski Beat
Because the Night – 10,000 Maniacs
Be My Lover – La Bouche
It’s Raining Men – The Weather Girls
We R Who We R – Ke$ha
People Like Us – Kelly Clarkson
We Are Family – Sister Sledge
Freedom! ’90 – George Michael
Kiss Me – Stephen “Tin Tin” Duffy
True Colors – Cyndi Lauper
I’m Coming Out – Diana Ross
Don’t Leave Me This Way – Thelma Houston
You can find this and other playlists on Josie’s Spotify station.
Striker
A DS Fight Club Novel
Josie Kerr
This is a work of fiction and does not in any way advocate irresponsible behavior. This book contains content that is not suitable for readers 17 and under. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
Any resemblance to actual things, events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, products, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and ownership of any location names or products mentioned in this book. The author received no compensation for any mention of said trademark.
Cover image:
Photographer: RLS Model Images
Model: Niko Nomas
Copyright © 2016 Josie Kerr
Published by Hot Words and Cold Coffee, LLC
All rights reserved.
Digital Edition
To all the Rulebreakers
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Epilogue
Playlist
Also by Josie Kerr
About the Author
Chapter One
Fernanda Maldonado awoke with a start in a strange bed in a room that she didn’t recognize, and it took her a few minutes to remember that she was now in Atlanta, Georgia, in her older brother’s apartment. She lay on her back in the bed, looking at the popcorn ceiling and ugly ceiling fan, ignoring the beginnings of a headache, her mouth simultaneously dry and sticky.
“Jesus, why do I feel like I’ve been on a three-week bender?” she murmured to herself. Her memories even resembled a drunken haze. She vaguely remembered stumbling up a flight of stairs in the dark after making the thirteen-hour road trip from Newark, New Jersey, but she didn’t remember much else. Now she sat blinking in the bed, her bladder screaming for relief. Espying an en suite bathroom through a partially shut door, she lumbered into the bathroom and collapsed onto the toilet.
Only after showering did she risk looking in the mirror. She groaned at her reflection. With her puffy, dark-ringed eyes, she looked like she’d been on a three-week bender.
Nanda leaned closer to the mirror. The bruises from the beating that she had taken a few weeks prior had faded, but when she lifted her chin, the shadow from the rope burn on her throat was still faintly visible. Hopefully, a bit of strategic makeup and a collared shirt would render the marking unnoticeable. Nanda blinked back at herself and slipped back into the bedroom to pick out a ligature-mark-decoying blouse.
“Nanda, you awake?” Junior’s muffled voice came from the other side of the bedroom door.
“Yeah, Junior. I’ll be out in a second.”
Nanda looked at herself in the small dresser mirror and sighed. Good enough, I suppose. She gave her reflection an encouraging nod and stepped out into the living room to find her older brother, dressed and with his shoes on, in the kitchen, drinking what looked like a protein shake.
“Hey, Nanda. I need to head into the gym. I didn’t want to wake you, but I didn’t want to leave without saying something . . . you’re dressed?”
Nanda grinned weakly at her older brother. “I thought I might come with you. I wanna see what this fantastic DS Fight Club is all about.” And I’m kind of freaked out about staying here alone.
Junior’s sympathetic smile told her he knew exactly what she didn’t say.
“We’ll go check in, you can take a look around, and then we’ll go pick up anything you need while you’re here.”
Nanda nodded. “Okay.”
“You okay, Nanda?” Junior’s handsome face creased into a frown. “You don’t have to do this—take all the time you need.”
She shook her head. “No. I . . . I’m sorry.”
“What the fuck are you apologizing for?”
“Come on, Junior. You drop everything, once again, to come up and rescue your fuckup of a little sister, again, because she insists on dating shitty men who get her into shitty situations.” Nanda paused, considering what she was going to say. “No, because I make shitty decisions, period. And now I’m here with you, living in your apartment, without a job or savings or anything. You put your life on hold for me, Junior. I can’t ever repay you.”
“Come here, you. Come here.” Nanda let her brother pull her close, his embrace cocooning her.
“Nanda, do not ever think you have to repay me. You. Are. Family. We’ll take care of each other, always. And I haven’t put my life on hold. I’ve had a lot of things to think about these last few weeks, things that wouldn’t have presented themselves to me if I hadn’t gone back to Newark.”
Nanda pulled away from him. “You’re talking about Derek.”
“Yeah, I’m talking about Derek, but also about an opportunity that Manny put in front of me.”
“You’re really thinking about training guys in Jersey?”
Junior nodded. “Yes, I am. I’m still weighing my options, but even if I do, it would be a few months before I started making the move—enough time for you to figure out what you’re going to do.”
“If you’re sure . . .”
“I’m sure. Now shut the fuck up and get your shoes on, and we’ll go the DS Fight Club and introduce you to the crew.”
Nanda huffed. “So fucking bossy.”
Nanda whistled low through her teeth when she saw the converted textile factory that now housed the DS Fight Club MMA training facility. “Wow. Uh, this is just a little bit nicer than Manny’s place.”
“More like a shriveled Granny Smith and some sort of fancy organic fruit.” She whistled again. “Boy, C has done well for himself. Damn.”
“C’s the guy he’s always been. Remember, he’s always had money, plus he’s smart with it.”
“Man.” Nanda took in the four-story brick building. “This whole building is the fight club?”
“Nah. Only the bottom floor is. The top three floors are fighter apartments.”
“Apartments?”
“Oh no. Don’t even think about it. You’re staying at my place, and no, you’re not inconveniencing me.” He leveled a look at her. “So shut up and get out of the fucking car.”
“Fucking A, Junior, knock it off with the bossy.”
But she got out of the car and had stomped halfway to the door before a cackling Junior caught up to her.
Nanda immediately started smiling when she saw Colin “Ice Cold” Carmichael at the front desk, phone in his hand. She had always liked the huge, bearded fighter, even when he was still working on Wall Street and was a miserable, drunken fuck. But then he had shown up at Manny De La Garza’s gym and started training as a professional fighter full time, and the rest was history.
“No. Yes. How the fuck should I know?” Colin scowled into the phone. “Look, Junior Maldonado schedules the classes, and he’s not gotten the fall schedule up. So just hold your horses and call back in few weeks.” He slammed down the phone without saying goodbye. “Goddammit, Junior, I need your fucking ass here,” he muttered.
“Good thing my fucking ass just walked through the door, then, C.”
“Oh, thank fuck you’re back.”
“And I’ve got the schedule for the fall ready to go. Just need to put it up on the website.”
“My God, I love you, man.” Colin grabbed Junior and gave him a smacking kiss on the top of his bald head. “When did you get back?” Colin looked past Junior’s shoulder and spied Nanda.
“Oh my Lord, Nanda. Come here, baby girl.” Nanda found herself once again pulled into a huge man’s arms, though Colin wasn’t nearly as big as he once was. “You okay, Nanda? Do we need to go knock some heads together, kick someone’s ass?”
Nanda chuckled weakly, and the burning in her eyes foretold of upcoming tears. “Nah, Junior took care of that.”
Colin looked at Nanda’s brother. “She telling the truth?”
Junior sighed. “Yes and no. I’ll catch you up. We gotta talk about some other shit as well.”
“I’m not crazy about the sound of either of those things.” Colin shook his head. “Fucking Maldonados. What am I going to do with two of you?”
Nanda grinned. I don’t know, C, but we better figure out something quickly.
Chapter Two
Dominic “Dig” DiGiacomo vigorously shook his capped smoothie cup even as the last note of his aria soared through the gleaming kitchen. He continued humming the tune while he absentmindedly looked over the newspaper as he consumed his pre-workout snack, breaking into the Looney Tunes version of the lyrics every so often.
He glanced at the clock, noting the time, and hurriedly finished his smoothie. He quickly rinsed out the cup and put it in the dishwasher before trotting down the hall and down the stairs to the main floor of DS Fight Club.
He walked through the large open workout area, searching the loose group of men gathered by a collection of heavy bags for the familiar figure of his interim boxing coach, Paddy Doyle, because he needed some solid answers after hearing some rumors during last night’s outing at the local watering hole. When he didn’t see him among the milling group of fighters, he headed to the front of the gym, hoping to locate the Irishman.
“Fuck you, Mashburn. Mind your own goddamn business.”
“Goody, man, you know people are just trying—”
“Yeah, well, they need to fucking stop. Good God A’mighty. I’m fine.”
Dig whistled low as he approached his best friend, Tig Mashburn, and Ryan “Goody” Richards pushed wordlessly past him.
“What’s his damage?”
“Dude’s pissed at the world,” Tig remarked as he bumped Dig’s fist.
“Whoa! What’s going on?” The two fighters watched Ryan’s figure limp around the corner. “That gait doesn’t look so good either.”
“I’m not sure exactly what happened. All I know is it involves his brother and Junior and a wellness check that turned into a seventy-two-hour mental health hold.”
Dig whistled low. “Damn. I didn’t realize he was that bad off.” He’d heard rumors that the guy was a ticking time bomb, a statistic waiting to happen, but Dig had hoped that they were just that—rumors—because he liked Ryan, and he wanted his friend to live a happy life.
“I don’t think anyone did.” Tig shook his head. “Jason wants him to check himself into an inpatient program, but Ryan’s not having any of it. I just wish there was something I could do. He’s a good guy.”
“Junior just needs to get his ass back here and look Goody in the eye. No one can resist that El Galán stare.”
Tig snorted. “That’s for damn sure, and I think that goes double for Junior and Ryan because of . . . you know.”
“Because of what?”
Tig arched his eyebrows at his friend. “Because of . . . the thing they have. You know. Their thing.”
“Oh.” Dig frowned. “Oh!” His eyes widened with sudden realization. “It’s like that, huh?”
Tig snorted. “Yeah, it’s like that, you idiot. I’m gonna start calling you Mini-C if you don’t get a clue.”
“Hey, I’m not that bad!” Dig laughed. He knew he could be oblivious at times, but he wasn’t anywhere as clueless as Colin, the owner of DS Fight Club.
Tig chuckled but then grew thoughtful. “Now that he’s back, I hope he can talk some sense into Ryan. Though, he probably has other stuff on his mind since Nanda came with him. I wonder what that’s all about.”
“Who’s Nanda? Wait—is that the sister that he went back to Jersey for?”
Tig nodded. “Yep. Should be interesting with two Maldonados in town, if she’s anything like her brother.”
“Sweet Jesus.” Dig had heard some stories in passing about Fernanda Maldonado, the younger sister of DS Fight Club’s charismatic trainer. She sounded exactly like Dig’s type, and therefore, he needed to stay the hell away from her.
A loud whistle cut off further musing from Dig.
“Oi! DiGiacomo! Get your ass over to me so I can wrap those mitts of yours and we can get to work, boyo!”
Tig snickered. “You better do what the Irishman says. And put thought of Maldonado’s sister out of your head.”
“I wasn’t even thinking about Junior’s sister.”
“Like hell you weren’t. If there’s a wild woman anywhere within ten miles of you, you’ll find her. You can’t resist ’em.” Tig grinned knowingly. “I think I’m gonna go check this girlie out. I’ll report back.” Tig winked and trotted off.
“Oi! Boyo! Get your arse over here!”
“Coming!” Dig jogged over to the screaming namesake of Doyle’s South Fight Club, ready to get to work.
Chapter Three
“This place is so nice, C. Man. Nice.” Nanda sipped on the smoothie that Colin had prepared. “Ooh, you’ve still got the smoothie touch. You always made the best shakes. I could never even taste the protein or whatever shit you put in there.”
“I can’t take credit for this one. This is one of Tig’s.”
“What the fuck’s a ‘Tig’?”
“I’m a Tig, pretty lady. You must be Junior’s sister.” The skinny fighter with a cowboy hat on his head stuck out his hand. Nanda was surprised enough that she just shook it without a sassy comment. “You two look alike, though I think Junior’s eyelashes are longer.”
“He doesn’t have any other hair. God’
s not totally unfair.” Nanda winked at Tig.
Her comment elicited a barking laugh from the cowboy fighter. “I like you already. And I figured you were his sister by your accent. No one else sounds like that around here.”
“Tig, if you don’t have anyone for the next session, why don’t you finish showing Nanda around while Junior and I catch up?” Colin nodded toward the door. “She’s not seen any of the back part of the gym or the apartments.”
“Sure thing, C. Miss Nanda, after you.” Tig bowed and gestured to the doorway.
Nanda rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, is he always like this?”
Junior chuckled. “Pretty much. His eyes should be brown.”
“You saying I’m full of shit, Junior?” Tig gasped in mock offense. “Damn Yankee.”
“Smart-ass shitkicker.”
Tig grinned. “That’s more like it,” he said as he held the door open for Nanda.
Tig showed Nanda the classrooms and the locker rooms, his descriptions making her laugh out loud, before circling back to the front of the fight club. The phone rang, interrupting Tig in the middle of mimicking one of Colin and Junior’s standard arguments.
“You guys really need someone at the front desk,” Nanda said with a shake of her head. “A ringing phone is something that drives me crazy.”
“I agree. Junior generally answered the phone, but with him out of pocket, we just kind of played it by ear. Lord knows that C’s not really fit for a receptionist. His sparkling personality just doesn’t translate well over the phone.”
Tig’s phone buzzed.
“And now I do have a session.” He looked around. “I don’t want to leave you alone up here.”
Nanda snorted. “I’m a big girl and can occupy myself until Junior finishes gabbling at C. Go do your thing.” She shooed him. “And, Tig, thanks a lot for the tour and the laughs. I needed it.”
Tig bowed again and stood up grinning. “My pleasure, Nanda. Oh, Mister Johnson, right on time, as usual.”