Brawl

by Kylie Hillman

  “Gabbi,” he points to an older man who’s standing in our ring as he speaks. To be honest, I didn’t see the man until Hooligan pointed him out, lost as I was in my reminiscing. “This is Angelo. He’s going to train you from now on.”

  Spinning, he walks away without another word. I stand there for a moment, mouth open as I gape at the guy he called Angelo. He appears as confused as I am.

  “What the fuck?” I turn and follow Hooligan. Grabbing hold of his arm, I make him stop so I can say my piece. “We had a deal. I beat Jep so you have to train me.”

  His nose scrunches as he curls his top lip. Shaking my hand from his arm, he points at Angelo. “I said you could train here. I never specified that I’d train you. Angelo’s who you need if you’re serious about fighting professionally. I told you. I don’t train women.”

  Wonder-fucking-ful. It comes back to his stupid prejudice, does it?

  “Actually, let me rephrase that. I don’t train girls. Especially seventeen-year-old-ones who aren’t old enough to fight yet.”

  My heart pounds in my ears and my mouth runs dry. I should’ve realized that he’d put two and two together after I filled in his membership forms—and find me lacking. What thirty-two-year-old man is going to be interested in a seventeen-year-old?

  He was. My snarky side reminds me that Hooligan was, in fact, attracted to me until he found out my age. And he walked away before he knew about it so it’s not his entire problem with me, it’s just what he’s using as his excuse to run.

  “I’m perfectly legal,” I tell him in a voice designed for only the pair of us to hear.

  “For what,” he queries me in a snide tone, one eyebrow lifting as he looks me up and down. “Fighting or fucking?”

  I’m speechless. The nastiness with which he poses his last question strips me of the ability to respond. Taking a step back from him as if he’s physically attacked me, I feel my nose begin to tickle, heralding the onset of angry tears. Or sad, I can’t tell at the moment.

  “I don’t give a fuck what you say. In my mind, you’re not legal to do either so run along, little girl.” He flicks his hands at me as if shooing an annoying fly. “Your trainer’s waiting for you.”

  Blinking furiously, I match his derision with my own, ready to fight fire with fire. “Not that big of a man, are you? Since this little girl managed to make you run away like a pussy. Two month’s changes nothing and you know it.”

  Taking another step away from him, I shrug with as much indifference as I can muster. “Although, you ran before you knew my age so let’s not pretend that’s your real problem.”

  Without waiting for an answer, I drop my sparring glove to the padded floor, before bending with exaggerated slowness to pick it up, ass pointed straight at Hooligan. The bottoms of my skin-tight workout shorts ride up, exposing the lower half of my ass cheeks. Returning to my full height, I throw my gloves and phone on the nearest bleacher. Keeping my back to him, I run my thumbs under the hem of my shorts, straight across the bare skin of my ass, then I pull my shorts back into their correct position.

  The resulting hiss that comes from his direction is all the response I need. Satisfaction oozing from every pore, I climb into the ring, intent on ignoring the irritating man. As I’m holding my hand out to Angelo, a thought hits me.

  I just made my way through an altercation without the desire to smack someone in the head. Dealing with him physically never crossed my mind. Either I’m losing my edge or Amy’s words from the other day made an impact. First, I decide that I don’t want to fuck random’s anymore, then I misplace my angry, ice queen persona.

  Meeting Hooligan is shaping up to be either the worst thing or the best that’s ever happened to me. It looks like only time will tell which.

  “Gabriella, is it?” Angelo grips my hand in a firm handshake before letting go. Lifting my shoulders, rolling them, and letting them drop back into place, I remove all thoughts of Hooligan from my mind. If this guy is going to get me where I want to go in the fight world, then I refuse to be distracted while I’m with him.

  “Yes, Gabriella is my full name but I don’t answer to it.” Smiling sweetly, I let him know that titbit upfront. “Call me Gabbi.”

  “Right. Easy. Now tell me all about yourself. Training habits, disciplines, preferred style...all the good stuff.”

  I’m about to launch into a summary of my martial arts background when Angelo steps past me and puts his hands on his hips. “She’s mine now. Go away, Hayden. We don’t need you standing there, gawking at us like a stunned mullet.”

  Turning around, I find Hooligan standing in the spot that I left him. He seems confused or something, although Angelo’s words snap him out of it with efficient speed.

  “Fuck me dead,” he curses before stomping back into his office. Dropping my gaze toward the mat, I stifle the laughter that wants to break free. His real name is Hayden...that’s hardly as intimidating as Hooligan. It makes him ridiculously human, actually, taking some of the sheen off his invincible aura and dulling my anger toward him.

  Getting down to business with Angelo, I’m surprised to find that our session flies. Working through my basic ground game, he is a lot more complimentary and a lot easier to work with. He’s not a bad looking man, maybe five years older than Hooligan, but I’m not remotely drawn to him which makes this so much easier.

  Could putting some distance between my wish to fight and my need for Hooligan be a good thing?

  “Okay, Gabbi. That’s enough for today. Cool down, then towel off and head home. Same time tomorrow.”

  Nodding at his directive, I start stretching as he leaves the ring and heads for the Hooligan’s office. The quietness of the gym hits me and I look around as awareness of my surroundings grows. I’m the only one left, the darkness that’s grown while I was occupied showing through the outside windows.

  Sufficiently cooled down, I walk into the locker room as I wipe my sweat off. Jep is sitting on the bench opposite to my locker, playing on his phone. He looks up when I enter, a smile that makes my stomach churn covering his face.

  “Hey,” I greet him. Opening my locker and pulling my sweatshirt over my head, I pack my things into my bag and close my locker. Jep hasn’t responded to my greeting so I turn and face him. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He says the word in a way that makes it clear that it is something. “Was just admiring the view.”

  Swatting his head, I sling my bag over my shoulder and turn for the exit.

  “Don’t be a douche.”

  “I’m not. You’re a little hottie. Don’t pretend you don’t know that.

  Shaking my head, I let my exasperation out in the form of a sigh. “Do you and Nate have a bet going to see who can creep me out the most? I’m not interested. You’re cool but that’s it.”

  Backing me into my locker, he pouts with obvious fakeness as he puts a hand on either side of my head. “Is that because I don’t own a gym...or is it because I’m not geriatric?”

  “Fuck you,” I push him off me, taking a step out of his arms reach. He follows, hauling me against him and pinning me back in my original position. “Go away, Jep.”

  “Why would I do that? Nate told me about you and Hooligan. Why can’t I get some sugar too?” Nausea rises within me when he tries to kiss me as I do my best to evade him. My queasiness is eclipsed only by the fury that’s growing within me. Hooligan must’ve told Nate about yesterday who then told Jep. The bloody bastard!

  Without waiting for an answer, Jep continues taunting me. “Nate saw you trying to fuck him in the ring and getting turned down. They might feel sorry for you but I don’t. I worked your game out at the fight. You like to tease. You like to be chased before you put out.”

  Lifting my leg, I hit him in the balls with enough force to drop him to his knees. Swinging my bag down from my shoulder, I clobber him in the head with it. He grabs the side of his face and howls.

  “How’s that for sugar?” Lifting my bag, I make as if to hit
him again. “Do you want some more?”

  When he flinches, I laugh. “Not so cocky now, are you? Fuck you, Jep. Touch me like that again and I’ll do more than put you to sleep or knee you in the balls. I’ll rip your fucking arm off and beat you over your goddamn stupid head with it.”

  Content that he’s got my message, I flounce toward the door. What a bloody day. Turning lesbian full-time is beginning to look like a viable option after the men I’ve had to deal with today. If this is what the universe has to offer, I’d rather eat pussy for the rest of my life.

  “What’s going on here?” Angelo asks as he comes out of Hooligan’s office with Hooligan hot on his heels. The two older men look between me and Jep, who’s still on the floor holding himself.

  “Ask him,” I quip as I point at Jep. Turning my gaze to Hooligan, I stare him in the eyes, letting the full-force of my displeasure with him known. “He thinks I’m easy because Nate told him what happened between us. Next time you decide to kiss and tell, maybe give them all of the details, instead of just the ones that make me look like a slut.”

  I don’t wait around for the excuses that begin spluttering from Hooligan’s mouth. Nodding goodnight to Angelo, I slam the door behind me as I leave before kicking the door of my car after I unlock it. Chucking my bag onto the front passenger seat, I pull my driver’s door shut with unnecessary force once I’m inside. My frustration—and the hurt I’m feeling from Hooligan’s blatant gossiping and Jep’s reaction to it—boils over and I smack my steering wheel with my fists.

  My phone beeps in my bag so I rummage through it until I find it.

  ZALI: Hurry up. Devon wants me home now.

  The universe is speaking loud and clear because her text is the reminder that I need at this time. In the vast scheme of things that are wrong in my world, Hooligan’s at the bottom of my list. My brother and sister need me more than I need to satisfy my craving for a man like him. He can call me “little girl” all he wants, his tattling to Nate has proven without a doubt that he’s the one who needs to grow the fuck up. When it comes to maturity, I’m light years ahead of someone who can kiss a girl like his life depends on it one moment before running away like a scared puppy dog and then lying to his nephew about what happened.

  Turning the ignition of my car, I reverse out of my car park and head home, vision of kneeing Hooligan in the exact spot I nailed Jep making me smile like a lunatic as I weave in and out of the traffic.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Hooligan

  One Month Later

  “Have a good night, Gabbi.”

  My well-wishes fall into the abyss, just like my four-dozen attempts before. Springing from the ring and landing like a leopard, all graceful and shit on her toes, I chuckle when she shoots me a death stare. I’d be dead if looks could kill and that thought makes me laugh harder.

  After four fucking long weeks of trying to get her to speak, I’ve about had enough of her silent treatment. I was annoyed as fuck at her accusation that night so I gave as good as I got for the first week until I managed to get the full story out of Nate. His bruised knuckles and the corresponding swelling on Jep’s face were the only things that stopped me from having a go at the little prick myself. There’s still tension between us, even after Nate’s punishment.

  I want to explain to Gabbi that Jep was full of shit but she refuses to even look my way, let alone acknowledge me when I speak. Stubborn should be her middle name.

  Gabbi’s tantrum makes my bull-headedness look reasonable.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her flipping me the bird before she ducks in the locker room and it makes me grin. Normally, someone doing that would piss me off but coming from that stubborn girl, I think it’s a step in the right direction. A sign that she’s thawing, whether she’s ready to admit it or not.

  “All right. All right. I’m coming,” she shouts into her phone and sprints out of the gym as if the room’s on fire.

  Looking between Angelo, who’s walking my way after cooling down from his training session with Gabbi, and Nate who’s standing next to me, I raise an eyebrow in question.

  “Either of you know what that’s about?”

  Identical blank stares and synchronized shrugs answer my question. They’re as confused as I am.

  “It was her sister. Something’s happened at her house. That’s all I heard before she ran out of here.” Jep walks out of the locker room with concern etched on his face and answers my question. “It sounded bad—screaming in the background and shit.”

  A panicked urgency grips me and I dash for my office. Yanking open my filing cabinet with enough force to pull the drawer off its rail, it clatters to the floor at my feet. Riffling through the files until I find Gabbi’s, I pull out the sheet with her home address on it.

  “Nate, come with me.” I shout over my shoulder as I haul ass for my truck. “Angelo, lock up the gym for me.”

  Slamming my door shut, I have the truck started and have thrown it into reverse before Nate climbs into the front passenger seat. A second door closes behind me in an echo of Nate’s and I glance in the rear-view mirror. Jep has got in the vehicle as well.

  Arching an eyebrow at him, I get a sheepish shrug in return. I guess he has to start making amends for his fuck up somehow...right now seems like a pretty good fucking time.

  With Nate shouting out directions to Gabbi’s house as he reads them on his phone, we make it to the other side of the city in record time. Pulling into a fancy looking Mac-Mansion, I park my truck behind Gabbi’s car. She’s got out of it in a rush, leaving her driver’s door and the front door to the house open.

  “Stay behind me,” I caution the boys, handing Nate the tire iron I keep behind my driver’s seat and passing Jep my baseball bat. As for me? Well, my fists should probably be registered as a dangerous weapon in their own right, but I grab the axe handle that I pared down as a weapon out of my hiding spot under my seat, just in case.

  Sydney’s known for having quite a few hot spots that you shouldn’t frequent without a weapon, and as a typical Type A personality, I believe in being prepared. Although, I’ll admit that our current location isn’t one of them. Gabbi lives in apparent comfort in one of the more exclusive areas of the city. A world away from the working class suburb where I built my gym.

  “Ready?” I don’t wait for their answer, heading into the house through the widen-open main entry. Silence meets me until I’m almost at the end of the long hallway that’s led us deep into the house.

  “Put him down. Please,” Gabbi sounds determined but the slight wobble in her voice telegraphs her terror. “He’s only a little boy. I promise I’ll get you the money she owes you, I just can’t give it to you now.”

  “Not fucking good enough. That whore let me spend my money on her for weeks, making promises that we’d be together. That I was the only one. Then I find her with some other cunt balls deep in her tonight—”

  Picking up my pace due to the hostility in the man’s voice, I round the corner into a spacious kitchen and find a big, balding bloke holding a sobbing little boy who’s dressed in pajamas with cartoons on them. Gabbi and a tall blonde girl shoot anxious looks in our direction from their position opposite him, their fear thick enough to taste. I’m trying to work out why Gabbi’s rooted to the spot with her hands in fists, instead of putting this fucker on his back, like I know she’s more than capable of doing when the asshole notices their distraction.

  “Big mistake, girlies. You’ve fucked up bringing someone else into this.” The man holding the boy hostage points a long serrated edged blade in my direction, before taking two steps away from me. The glint of the knife as he waves it around to scare me off answers my question about Gabbi’s inaction. Then, his odd wording alerts me to Jep and Nate’s absence at my back, which I verify with a quick, subtle look over my shoulder. Where the fuck are they?

  A slight movement behind the intruder alerts me to Nate and Jep’s position. They’ve found a different route int
o the house and have surrounded the fucker. Flicking my gaze in Gabbi’s direction, I widen my eyes then look at Nate. She catches on straight away, putting a step between herself and the blonde girl, straightening her posture ready to attack if I give the signal.

  “Put the kid down and I won’t hurt you as much.” Using my don’t-fuck-with-me voice, I give the dickhead one chance to get out of this with his head still attached to his shoulders.

  “Fuck off, cunt. Unless, you got my money, this has nothin’ to do with you.”

  Shaking my head at his obstinate refusal to realize that that was his only opportunity, I incline my head so Nate and Jep know it’s going down now before launching myself across the space between us. Dropping my axe handle to the floor, I grab the wrist of the hand holding the knife and snap it with one efficient moment. He howls with pain and then drops to his knees. Grabbing the boy before he hits the floor, I shove him in Gabbi’s direction.

  Nate and Jep contain the asshole while I check over the crying boy. He doesn’t appear hurt in any way, although he flinches away from me when I lift his head to have a look at him, burying it in Gabbi’s neck and snuggling as far into her as he can. She holds him tight and croons to him, soothing him with words and continuous back rubs.

  The blonde girl comes out from behind the kitchen counter, where she must have crouched when the situation escalated. I spot red swelling that’s quickly turning into a bruise on her left cheek.

  “He do that to you?” I point at her face.

  “Yeah, he backhanded me when he forced his way through the front door.”

  A red haze of fury filled with a primal need to inflict my wrath on her attacker overcomes me at her confession. I turn back to the asshole, who’s still bellowing from the pain of his broken wrist. Nate has one arm around his throat in a choke hold, hyperextending his torso as he holds his sagging form upright on his knees. Jep appears to have laid one on him, a split lip that wasn’t there when we arrived dripping blood down his chin.