BWWM: BEFORE I WAKE: A Bad Boy Billionaire Book Collection (African American Interracial Series)

by Scribble XO Books

  “WAR!” The referee shouts and the crowd roars to life in a deafening cheer as the fighters approach each other.

  Cain throws a fierce first punch that connected. I was so close that I actually heard the crack of his hand hit the side of Axe’s head. He followed that up with a succession of quick punches…One, two three to the sternum and face. Each of those smacked flesh and bone as well. Axe seemed stunned, his brows furrowing like he hadn’t expected so much from Cain so soon.

  “That’s right, just like we practiced! He ain’t ready Cannon! He ain’t ready!”

  I bounced in my seat feeling so proud to see my brother and boyfriend work together. Axe finally came around and they began to trade punch for punch and kick for kick. There was a sharp knee to the gut and a kick to the thighs, one for one. It was almost like watching a beautiful dance…only more violent. Much more violent.

  The blare of a horn signaled the end of the first round. Cain returned to the stool positioned by Julius who’s entered the cage along with John John. Sweat drips off his hair as Cain’s eyes find me through the links. Julius is kneeling by his ear instructing him and John John pulls out his mouthpiece and wipes his back with a towel. I wink and he nods with a small smile. I had to laugh as I saw Julius motion at John John to block between us.

  The horn blares for the second round and they both come out even more intense. Big punches and crippling kicks flew from both sides. There were two kicks by Axe that Cain caught against his thighs, twisting every time to try and submit him. Axe pulled away and landed a large left hook to Cain’s ribs. Cain’s muscles rippled as his large body absorbed the blow but I still winced.

  Axe was looking like the more dominant fighter at the end of that second round. Cain had a cut high on his cheekbone that was bleeding and I watched as Julius patched him up and John John patted an ice pack on his shoulders to cool him down. His gloves were bloody, but so was Jackson’s face, so I wasn’t sure whose blood it was. He was sweaty and bloody, but when he went back out for round number three…he was still standing tall and proud. Jackson swayed. Was he hurt? Tired?

  The crowd was going crazy now with the smell of blood and as the two big men once again began trading blow for blow, they got to their feet. We all knew the end had to be near and nobody wanted to miss it. Cain was the longshot tonight and I could hear them yelling at Axe to take this Cain down to the mat. They wanted a ground game because that was Axe’s specialty.

  I was close enough to see how hard security was working to haul out the girls that wanted to touch the men through the cage between rounds, or flash him their boobs. Cain was pure focus and didn’t seem to notice any of it. He had that title in his sights and he was determined to take it home tonight.

  By the third round I could see the cut over Axe’s eye was a lot more severe than the cut on Cain’s cheek. The skin had been secured with a butterfly bandage by the guy’s trainer between rounds, but Cain caught him right on the temple again with a cross and the strips were torn loose. The flap of skin was just hanging there in front of his eye as he squinted to see around it.

  The men violently danced around each other this round, neither of them coming on too strong. Suddenly Axe lunged forward and tackled Cain around the waist driving them both into the fence. Axe used his weight to drive Cain up until Cain lost his footing and was slammed to the mat. I watched his head bounce and I winced. He spun and landed a hard kick to Axe’s temple, that dangling flap over his eye opening back up and spilling more blood. It stunned Axe and he landed over Cain heavily.

  With lightening precision, Cain flipped him over until they were both on their sides, spooned against each other. Cain looped his legs around one of Axe’s thighs hiking him up with a jolt to catch under Axe’s opposite calf too. I heard the hard hiss of Cain’s breathing as he maneuvered an arm under Axe’s head to cradle him to his chest. Axe jolted his hips but Cain pulled his weight up securing his right hand to his waiting left. Cain spun around and I winced noticing the uncomfortable position Axe must be in as Cain pulled on his neck.

  The crowd went silent as we stared in awe. The two men bucked with a hard bounce and I heard atear. The entire crowd gasped, several fans clasping their mouths in shock. Axe screamed in pain, his neck corded with veins as he strained against his mouthguard.

  Everyone looked stunned and soon awed gaps could be heard rippling throughout the stadium. “A Twister. A fucking Twister!”

  Julius had his hands on his head in disbelief, mumbling something incoherently. “Holy shit… I’ve never… I’ve never seen…”

  Axe patted Cain’s arm forcefully and both men collapsed back as the crowd surged with an ear splitting roar. Oh my God! Cain tapped Axe! Yes! He did it!

  I jumped up and down, my voice growing hoarse as I screamed Cain’s name. The crowd was going crazy all around me. “BOOM! Cannon!”

  I saw Cain crouch beside Axe, a look of concern across his gorgeous and bruised face. Axe took Cain’s hand as Cain helped him get to his feet. Definitely the knee. Axe bounced on one leg as him and Cain hugged each other, exchanging words quickly before a flood of people entered the cage. One of Axe’s trainers reached out for him to lean against and I felt a pang of pain for Jackson.

  Cain was still standing in the center of the octagon with a look of awe and elation as he and Julius laughed at each other shaking their heads in shock. A sea of trainers and referees patted his back congratulating him as the referee held up his arm. The announcer’s big voice boomed over the loudspeakers.

  “Annnd your winnerrrr, CAIN The Cannonnnn Connolleeeeeeey!”

  His face was bruised and bloody, his knuckles were saturated with blood but he grinned from ear to ear and nodded at the fans. The crowd screamed his chant as the referee introduced him.

  “....Your NEW Light Heavyweight Championnnn of the Woooorld!”

  The tears blurred my eyes as I saw them swing a golden belt around his waist. He pumped his fist in the air, his face contorting with emotion when his eyes met mine. I knew what he was thinking. Bree would have been so proud of him. The announcer was trying to say something over the mic, but not a soul in that arena was listening to him. All eyes were on Cain.

  Julius and John John hugged him, all three of them huddling in a circle with their foreheads touching. I can only imagine what Julius is saying. It was so loud, I couldn’t hear a thing. Women were swarming the cage and people were calling out questions. It was chaos, but in the middle of it all I saw his head peer up in my direction. My breath hitched when his eyes warmed on me.

  He mouthed, “I love you,” and then motioned at me to come in. The big security guys at the cage door opened it and let me slip inside. I saw him weave through the crowd and reach out for me. He looked so beautiful. Sweat dripped down his thick body and even through the dripping hair hanging across his eyes, I knew that he was very happy. He picked me up and swung me around, his laugh deep in my ear. I clamped my arms tighter around his neck as he sat me back down on his feet and planted a heart stopping kiss on my lips.

  Cain kept an arm around my waist as he reached out to the announcer who handed him the microphone. His deep voice rang out over the stadium.

  “I need to thank a few people, because without them, I would have never made it here. First of all, my trainers. John Matthews who taught me form and Julius Kenzy who taught me perseverance. Julius is not only my trainer, he’s my best friend and one of my biggest champions. He’s seen me through the worst days of my life and he always believed in me.”

  “Caesar, Caesar!” rang in union throughout the stadium and Julius gave a short wave to the crowd. Cain opened his arms and they hugged, crushing me beside them. I had tears in my eyes as I watched them touch foreheads and pull away.

  Then he cleared his throat and glanced down at his belt.

  “This fight was for my sister Bree. Her candle burned out way too soon, but her flame will always glow in my heart. If she was here, I have no doubt she would be proud of me…not just for the figh
t, but.. for what I am about to do.”

  He slipped his arm out from my waist and took something out of Julius’s hands. He dropped to one knee in front of me and lifted his gorgeous eyes to my face. My heart stopped. No. fucking. way….

  “Ladies and Gentleman, in case you were wondering who this stunning woman is, I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend Jasmine...”

  His green eyes sparkled brightly, full emotion. “Baby? It’s been a crazy ride I know. I know I’ve been difficult to deal with. But dammit you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life winning your heart too. Will you marry me?”

  I was stunned. I had no clue he was going to do this. There were probably thirty-thousand people in the Garden, we were live on Pay-Per-View…but when I looked into his beautiful eyes, it was just Cain and me. My heart was thick in my throat and I choked on a sob.

  “Yes…Yes Cain…You won my heart a long time ago!” He flipped open the box and inside was the most beautiful ring I have ever seen. White gold with little blue sapphires around the outside of a large diamond. He took it out of the box and I held out my left hand. He slid the ring on my finger. It was a perfect fit. He twined his fingers in mine and stood, a breathtaking grin across his face.

  I gently kissed a bruise at his cheek as he picked me up and propped me against him, high on his broad chest as the crowd went wild. All around us people clapped and patted him on the back. We stood there swinging and staring into each other’s eyes as I stroked his hair.

  “Thank you, Cain.”

  “Thankyou, Jasmine. My girl...”

  THE END

  The Champion

  A Caged Heart Sports Series

  Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved.

  JACKSON

  My head throbbed in a sharp ache…and my eyes felt like shit. I closed and reopened them painfully. I blinked twice, trying to clear the fog so I can see where I am. I can feel a hard table underneath me…and the lights are so bright they cause a swell of dizziness and a piercing pain in my head. It’s pounding to the rhythm of… Shit! The crowd. It’s pounding to the rhythm of the stomping mob above in the main arena at Madison Square Garden.

  I tried to push myself up off the table but my whole body screamed out in soreness. I pulled up my legs so I could use them to sit up and a pain radiated from my knee all the way to my thigh… I groaned loudly, alerting the rest of the men in the room that I was conscious. I suddenly remembered the fight and the thoughts washed over me in startling clarity.

  Cain Connolly had fought me for my light heavyweight belt… The crowd had roared my name and I had smirked with pride. I was the champ after all. But even though the first few rounds had gone in my favor... he’d... won. Fuck! I’d lost my title sure, but I think the blow to my self-esteem had taken the worst hit.

  Cain had kicked my ass…and he deserved the win. He’d caught me completely off guard with that Twister in round three. Damn it! I guess if someone was going to take the title, I should be happy it was a friend. He’d definitely bested me…but it still hurts.

  I looked over at the group of men and I saw my trainer Don, a portly man in his late 50’s. The room was silent and they were all staring at me. The air suddenly felt suffocating. What the fuck kind of team support was this? Shouldn’t they all be rallying around me right now when I need them the most?

  Don’s dark eyes peered at me with disgust. “After all we’ve done for you, Jack... How could you let us down like this? We lost a ton of money…”

  What the hell was he talking about? Losing the title money?

  I spoke up, my voice hoarse and weary. “It’s okay, we just move on from here. I’ll win the next one.Focus on the fight, that’s what you always tell me, right Donny?

  “Naw Jack, you were supposed to focus on the fucking win this time! We lost money bro - a lot of fucking money! We cleared the way for you and then we bet on you. You weren’t supposed to get your ass kicked by a guy who came out of nowhere! You were supposed to win, dammit! What the fuck?!” Spittle flew from his mouth and I swear if I wasn’t so beaten down I would have punched him right in the throat.

  “You bet money on me?! You’re not supposed to bet on the fights…”

  “Oh don’t give me your goody two-shoes bullshit right now Jacky. Tell me that back in June you didn’tknow Tommy and Brett were going easy on you…?” His eyes challenged me and my stomach dropped.

  “Tommy and Brett…?” I pushed myself through the almost blinding pain and sat up. “What the fuck are you talking about? Maybe my head isn’t working right…”

  “You heard me just fine. Those fights? We fixed them. Yeah, that’s right. Tommy and Brett were paid to lose so you could make it here and you blew it all. We got you here…I got you here.. and all you had to do was win one fucking fight on your own! But no! You dropped the ball and totally fucked us, Jack.” His voice was icy cold.

  My face was suddenly rigid and my jaw clamped down tight. I tried to sit up, my fists clenched and bruised. They glared at me as I struggled to lift up. I swayed heavily and patted my bloodied eyebrow.

  They were making this my fault…my mistake…my fucking crime. I lost a fight…yes, but I lost it fair and square. That shit happens.

  I never thought that Don and my team of pro trainers would ever, in a million years be so stupid as to bet in a fight. If I would have won, I’m sure they’d get a windfall of cash, but I never got into this for the money and I damn well didn’t want anyone on my team more focused on their wallet than having my back - no matter what shit went down!

  Don was still talking. He talked to the rest of the team now about me, like I wasn’t even in the fucking room. Every word that came out if his mouth fueled the fire that was burning inside of me. Every phrase was like a splash of gasoline on an already raging inferno. I just can’t fucking believe it!

  The adrenaline surged through me and I came off the table, seeing red as I lunged at Marcos who’d been grinning at me like a damn snake.

  Suddenly the fuckers didn’t have anything left to say. They scattered like frightened little rabbits, suddenly afraid of the man they claimed wasn’t really a champion…

  The dizziness hit me again and I slumped over the table. The locker room smelled like sweat and stale clothes and nowpain... God, what a night.

  “Jack!” David, the doctor on duty tonight came quickly to me, helping me back onto the table.

  “What are you doing on your feet? You can’t be putting weight on that knee.” I took a deep breath and sat down heavily. The adrenaline was receding and the pain was coming back, ten-fold. My knee was screaming out in pain.

  It took me several more deep breaths before I finally said, “So what’s the scoop Doc?”

  I could tell by the look on his face that the news wasn’t good. He took his own deep breath and shifted nervously.

  “Your ACL is torn, bud. It must have buckled when he….” He paused, his gaze accessing me before he continued. I nodded, I’m fine. I can handle the truth.

  “... hurt you. There might also be some damage to the menisci. It’s hard to tell on the right now because there is so much swelling in there. If that’s the case, it can be repaired at the same time as the ACL.”

  “What do you meanrepaired? I need surgery or what?”

  “Yes, absolutely. The ACL can heal on its own but for an athlete I wouldn’t recommend waiting around for it to heal. A surgeon can repair it, actually reconstruct it and get you into therapy as soon as possible afterwards. In six to nine months you’ll be back to normal… or as close to it as possible.”

  “Six to nine months?” My stomach dropped. No fighting formonths?

  “Yeah, it’ll be at least four weeks before the swelling goes down enough to operate, I’m assuming. I’ll refer you to an orthopedic surgeon in LA and he’ll make the final call on that.”

  “What do you mean byre-construct?” I was used to blood and beatings but going under the knife
was a whole other thing.

  “An arthroscope is usually used in this type of surgery because it’s the most minimally invasive option available. But, like I said the final call on that will be with the surgeon and he’ll discuss your options. The ligament will be reconstructed by using part of the patellar tendon usually…”

  “English Doc, please. My head is pounding.”

  “Sorry. It can also be taken from part of the hamstring tendon in the back of the knee, or it may be a donor or cadaver graft. The surgeon will discuss all of the options with you more in depth. Each option has its own advantages and disadvantages.”

  “And then therapy?” The idea of weeks - nomonths of therapy before getting back in the cage leaves me feeling depressed.

  “Yeah, the first few weeks are just range of motion and then extension and flexion and so forth. A physical therapist would be better qualified to discuss all of that with you and we’ll get you referred over to one as soon as possible as well.” He nodded solemnly.

  Fuck…my head was spinning. Six to nine months without working out…without being on the circuit at all? That was a long time in our world…enough to make the difference between a champion and beginning again as an amateur. I thought my head was pounding before…now it felt like someone drummed against my temples and eyes.

  Dr. David droned on about a knee braces and crutches…I think, but his voice was only buzzing noise in my head.

  ***

  The flight from New York to LA the next day was a bitch. I now had a huge, cumbersome brace on my leg to keep it stabilized. I could barely bend my leg at all and even the seats in first class don’t have enough legroom for me to extend it all the way.

  My crutches were a pain in the ass. I’ve never used them before and I nearly killed myself when I let one of them slip off the side of the tarmac.

  I finally made it home alive but for the past three days I’ve roamed around the beach house like a ghost, turning the events of my disastrous trip to New York over and over in my head.