Bad Boy's Honor: An MMA Bad Boy Romance

by Ashe, Jessica

  Just being here felt like I was betraying Nora. Spending the night with Tracy would definitely be a betrayal. I wouldn’t be able to look Nora in the eyes again.

  “Let me know about the funeral.”

  “Sure you can be bothered to attend? Wouldn’t want things getting complicated.”

  I was used to Tracy acting immature and petty, but it really stung this time. She was going to the heart of the guilt that had been keeping me awake at night for years. Had I done enough to save Nick?

  I’d gone to prison for him, but since my release, we’d barely kept in touch. If I’d been there for him… He probably still would have died, but I couldn’t know for sure. That uncertainty was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

  Before leaving, I grabbed a photo of just Nick and me that was laying on a coffee table. Tracy wouldn’t miss it, and I was suddenly very aware of how few photos I had of him. Camera phones weren’t around when we were up to mischief, and I’d missed most of the smartphone revolution by being locked up.

  I walked home in a numb trance, and went to bed without eating. I stayed awake until the anger faded away enough to let me drift off. The guilt would come soon. That was when the sleepless nights would truly begin.

  The next morning I found a message on my phone from Duke scolding me for canceling the training session with Nora.

  Nora. I owed her an apology. Again. For someone who wasn’t the apologizing type, I sure was getting a lot of practice recently.

  Nora was worth it though. I should probably tell her that before it’s too late.

  It hadn’t been my intention to give him the silent treatment. I even greeted him cheerfully at the beginning of our training session and waited for him to explain.

  He never did.

  That pissed me off. At the very least, he could have come up with some excuse. He didn’t even care enough to spin me a lie. We just started the training session as if nothing had happened last night. As if he hadn’t just gone off with his ex-girlfriend.

  Riker wasn’t the type to offer information, and I wasn’t about to ask. I wanted to. The questions bounced around in my head. What did your ex-girlfriend want to speak to you about? Why did you go off with her? Did you spend the night with her? Are you two back together?

  Most importantly, is it already over between us?

  Had it ever even begun?

  I’d been casual about sleeping with someone I’d just met, much less again on the first real date as if I did it all the time. But that wasn’t me at all. Even the third date rule felt like I was rushing it.

  I hated myself for being so hung up on a man I still barely knew. We’d had two great nights and been on one date. That was it.

  He’d spent five years in prison and I knew nothing about it. He fought in an underground fighting ring, and I had no idea what that entailed. We weren’t as close as I’d assumed. I’d let him into my head, but he’d kept himself closed off behind thick steel walls that I couldn’t hope to permeate.

  Riker started the session by trying to tire me out with a series of push ups, burpees, and star jumps. We didn’t talk, but today I didn’t need the distraction to keep me going. My mind was on issues far more traumatic than the physical abuse my body was going through.

  “Let’s work on the punches,” Riker said, as he picked up some pads.

  Punches. That’s what I needed to do right now.

  Riker held his hands up casually and started giving instructions, but he soon realized this wasn’t any normal session. My fists pounded into the pads with such force that the noise echoed around the gym and had the late-night stragglers turning their heads in my direction to see what was going on.

  Riker even stumbled back a few times until he got used to how hard I was punching. He’d spared with men before, and I wasn’t naive enough to think I was stronger than them, but this was by far the most aggressive I’d ever been and Riker noticed.

  He still didn’t say anything.

  Eventually Riker stopped, although I still had energy left to keep going. It was amazing what anger could do for your motivation.

  “I think that’s enough for now,” Riker said, taking off the pads and throwing them to the floor. “Let’s do some more balance exercises.”

  “No,” I said, bouncing from foot to foot to show that I wanted to keep active. “I want to go down to the cage and fight.”

  Riker shook his head. “We’re not training in the cage. That’s where I fight. I don’t want you down there.”

  “I’ve already been down there with Duke.”

  Riker sighed, but still shook his head again. “He shouldn’t have done that. The cage isn’t a place for training. I have to fight there in a few weeks. I need to be in the right frame of mind, and that won’t happen if we mess around in there.”

  “Who said anything about messing around? I want to go down there and fight.”

  I opened the cupboard and grabbed some of the boxing gloves. I did most of my training bare-fisted, because that’s how I’d fight on the street if I ever needed to. Right now, I wanted to throw some real punches that weren’t aiming for pads.

  “We’re not fighting,” Riker said calmly.

  I didn’t know if he was referring to the cold atmosphere between us all session, or the potential for some physical combat in the ring.

  “Well, I’m fighting. If you won’t spar with me, I’ll just go find someone who will.”

  This will be damn embarrassing if none of the men here agree to get in the cage with me.

  “Okay, okay,” Riker conceded. “Let’s go down to the cage.”

  Last night I’d been fresh from a shower, and hadn’t realized how cold it was down in the basement. Duke hadn’t turned on all the lights that night, or if he had, I’d been too out of it to pay any attention to my surroundings.

  The cage took center stage and was sounded by benches for people to crowd onto in an effort to get a view of the action.

  Betting slips still littered the stone floor, even though there hadn’t been a fight down here in weeks.

  “Duke might want to clean this up,” I suggested. “Can’t imagine the police would take too kindly to evidence of illegal gambling.”

  “The police won’t do anything,” Riker replied.

  “Why not?”

  “Because Duke has cameras up in each corner pointing at the crowd.”

  “So what?” I asked. “That just gives the police even more evidence.”

  “Those cameras also record all the members of the police force that are in attendance at these fights, in addition to some very senior members of the mayor’s office.”

  “Oh.”

  “At least, that’s what we tell people. The cameras haven’t worked for years.”

  Riker opened the cage door and let me inside. This time there was enough light to let me see the bloodstains coating parts of the metal cage, and the floor. They really needed a cleaner down here.

  “Where are your gloves?” I asked Riker. He’d brought the pads, but that was it.

  “What do I need gloves for?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t hit me with your bare fists,” I admitted.

  “I’m not going to hit you at all.”

  “You fucking well are. I said I wanted to fight and I meant it.”

  Riker wanted to argue, but I stared into his eyes until he backed down and grabbed a pair of gloves hanging from the hook on the wall. He also made me wear one of those padded bands that went around my head, and a gum shield that I sure hoped was new.

  “How do you want to do this?” I asked, struggling to speak coherently with the shield in my mouth.

  “Just try to hit me,” Riker replied.

  Easy. I’d been doing that all morning. I swung a punch, hitting his glove out of habit.

  “No, aim for the face,” Riker insisted. “You wanted a fight, well you’ve got one. You don’t try to punch someone’s hands in a fight.”

  I had to adjust my stance so t
hat I could punch up to Riker’s face, instead of straight forward where he held his hands.

  Apparently I really wanted to punch Riker in the face. I didn’t even hesitate. I saw him open and swung with my right hand. It was a good punch, and on target, but Riker blocked in time, sending my fist sailing harmlessly past his face.

  I lost my balance, but was careful not to fall into Riker this time. That’s how all this had started in the first place.

  “Again,” Riker commanded.

  He didn’t instruct me on which hand to use, so I swung on instinct, using whatever hand had the most strength and coordination at the time. It was sloppy, and Riker blocked each punch with ease.

  He’d been watching me throw punches for weeks now, so he knew how I moved and reacted accordingly. I tried to change things up, but he still read me perfectly.

  Then I decided to bluff.

  I went to throw a punch with my left hand, but stopped it in mid-air and used my right hand instead. It worked. My gloved smashed straight into his face with a satisfying thud. I thought I’d done some damage, but when I looked back up, I saw that he had barely raised an eyebrow.

  I’d given it my all, but I couldn’t hope to hurt him. I didn’t even know why I wanted to. He probably didn’t deserve it. This was all my fault for letting myself get too close, too quickly.

  All he’d done is take up an offer to sleep with someone when they offered it to him on a plate. He’d hardly be the first guy guilty of that offense.

  “Punch me,” I said firmly. “I want to practice my blocking.”

  “No chance.”

  I held my hands up in front of my face. “Duke did,” I lied.

  “I’m not hitting you.”

  “No, you won’t. But I want you to try.”

  Riker sighed and shook his head, but he took up a fighting stance. “When I say left, block with your left hand. When I say right—”

  “Block with my right hand. Yeah, I think I can get my head around that code.”

  Riker shouted ‘right’ and swung his left hand towards me. I easily blocked the punch, but he was practically aiming for my hand, so it was harder not to.

  Even the impact of his gloves on mine hurt a little bit, but I did my best to hide the pain from my face. I’d need to stick my hands in an ice bucket as soon as I got home.

  “Left,” he yelled, then swung with his right hand. His glove hit mine, but I wasn’t strong enough, and I ended up hitting myself in the face with my own hand.

  “That’ll do,” Riker said, ripping off his gloves’ velcro with his teeth.

  “No,” I demanded. “We keep going.”

  “You’re exhausted.”

  “So? Do you stop when you get tired? You haven’t even hit me yet.”

  “Nora, I—”

  “Hit me,” I yelled. “If you can.”

  Riker went back to shouting directions and swinging punches. Each punch got harder to block. I could barely keep my hands in the air now, let alone resist the force of his punches. I had no doubt he was holding back, but I still struggled to keep up.

  “Left.” Block. “Right.” Block. “Right.” Block. “Left.” I missed.

  Riker’s hand went zooming past my glove and slammed into my face. Riker had once told me he didn’t feel the pain of a punch during a fight because of the adrenaline.

  Bullshit.

  Punches fucking hurt.

  I screamed and then spat the gum shield out of my mouth so that I could scream some more.

  “Shit,” Riker muttered, tearing off his gloves with his teeth, and rushing towards me. His hands took hold of my face as he tried to examine the damage.

  “Get off,” I yelled, and pushed his hands away from me.

  “I told you it was a bad idea.”

  “Just get off me.”

  “Nora, what the hell—”

  “Don’t. Just don’t.”

  I tore my gloves off and threw the helmet to the floor before storming back upstairs.

  So much for keeping a cool head. I’d just had a hissy fit because a guy I’d slept with was seeing someone else. I wasn’t proud of that, and I certainly didn’t want Riker seeing me at my lowest point.

  What the hell was happening to me? I wasn’t the type to storm off in a bad mood. That wasn’t me.

  Except apparently it was.

  That’s what Riker had done to me.

  She was pissed.

  I’d expected Nora to be a little off with me today, but I’d intended to explain everything after class. Now it looked like I wouldn’t get the chance.

  Nora fled upstairs without looking back. I contemplated chasing after her, but that didn’t seem like a great idea given the mood she was in. Besides, I’d just punched her in face. I didn’t feel great about that, even if it had been during an accident during training.

  Why was she so mad anyway? I’d called off one lesson, but that was hardly justification for storming off and being in a mood with me the entire session.

  I headed back up to the gym to get some time on a bench, but the second I walked in, Duke yelled out my name in a way that made it pretty clear I needed to get to his office as soon as possible.

  “What is it?” I asked. I sensed a lecture coming on, but I could do without it right now.

  “Nora’s just told me she’s ending the training sessions with you.”

  “Oh.” I tried to look surprised, but given the way she’d stormed off, I didn’t expect her to come back for another session.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  “If you must know, I punched her.”

  “You did what?” Duke yelled. He’d gone into full overprotective father mode now, which seemed a bit extreme given that he’d spent less time with Nora than I had at this point.

  “Calm down, it was an accident. Does it really matter? She was going to finish up in a week anyway.”

  “Yes, it matters. She’s my daughter, and I don’t like seeing her in the mood she was in a minute ago.”

  What had Nora said earlier? She’d trained with Duke in the ring last night.

  “Did you tell Nora about Tracy?” I asked Duke.

  “Yeah. What was all that about? You’d better not be messing around with Tracy and my daughter at the same time.”

  “So you told Nora that Tracy was my ex-girlfriend?”

  Duke nodded. “You’d rather I lie to my daughter?”

  Christ Duke, enough with the concern for your new daughter. You’re not the only one who cares for her.

  “I’d have preferred to be the one to tell her, that’s all.”

  “You need to make it up to her.”

  If only it were that easy.

  “No,” I replied. “Not now. Look, we agreed to a month of training and it’s nearly been that. Now I need to focus on the fight. I’ve put it on the back burner for too long.”

  “You’ll keep teaching the other classes,” Duke insisted.

  I nodded in agreement. The other classes were easy compared to the thought of dealing with Nora hating me.

  Duke didn’t have anything else to say, and Gayle was nowhere to be seen. Thank heaven for small mercies.

  My workouts had dropped off recently without me even noticing it. Over the last few weeks, my time in the gym had been spent waiting for Nora to show up, and talking to her when she was here.

  Now I needed a proper, vomit-inducing workout. If I could still move my arms and legs at the end of the night then I hadn’t done enough.

  I’d been slacking. Weights I once lifted with ease now made my arms wobble after six reps. There had been no outward change to my physique, but the difference in my strength was immediately noticeable.

  At first, Nora had motivated me to train harder, and push through my usual barriers, but after a while, I just wanted to spend time with her and I’d sacrificed my training to do that.

  I called Ryan over to spot me. Ryan was one of the more vocal guys at the gym, and he knew what I was capable of. He wouldn’
t let me get off the bench until I’d pushed every muscle to breaking point.

  I listened to his yells and used them to push me to a level where at least I didn’t have to feel ashamed. That would have to count as success today.

  “You feeling alright?” Ryan asked. “You usually throw weights like that around for a light warm-up.”

  “Bit off my game at the moment,” I replied.

  “Not the best time for it,” Ryan said, stating the obvious. “Don’t you have that big fight coming up?”

  “Yeah, don’t remind me.”

  What I really needed was someone to spar with. Only Ryan and a few women were left in the gym. Ryan didn’t fight, and I’d had enough of hitting women for one day. I sparred with women occasionally, but today it didn’t seem right. Like cheating on Nora again.

  I had to do something to prepare for the fight, both physically and mentally. Getting in better physical shape was crucial, but I also had to clear my mind of Nora.

  I headed over to one of the punching bags in the corner, and wrapped some tape around my fists. I closed my eyes for a few seconds to channel the anger deep inside. That didn’t take much effort this time around.

  Anger wasn’t in short supply, but finding the source of it took more effort. I thought I was angry at Nora for running off, but that wasn’t the case. I was disappointed and annoyed, but I couldn’t be angry. She knew about Tracy, and that was bound to be tough for her.

  I tried being angry at Tracy, but how could I be mad at someone who’d just lost her brother? She’d just needed company.

  I was mad at Nick, but that didn’t last long either. Seemed kind of petty to be mad at someone for dying.

  Then I found the source of my anger. I let loose on the punching bag, swinging my fists into it loud enough to have the chain shaking aggressively as if it might fall down from the ceiling at any moment.

  The punching bag wasn’t just a punching bag. It represented the one person I was truly furious at. The one person who had caused me all this pain and anguish.

  Myself.

  I stayed away from the gym for two weeks. I didn’t hear from Riker once in that entire time.