by Jessa Eden
“So when do you want to get together and study for the trig mid-term?” Stacy asked me one ordinary spring day as she followed me out of math class into the crowded hall.
“I don’t know,” I muttered as I came to halt, my instincts sending out all kinds of warning.
“What’s going on?” Stacy asked.
“I’m not sure.” There was a weird energy spiraling around me that I couldn’t put my finger on. But above the screech of high tops on the linoleum, the laughing teenagers, and bubble gum poppers, I heard a sickening sound.
Fist hitting flesh.
I threw my backpack down as I caught sight of a crowd in the far corner of the hall I was in. I started running full throttle toward the crowd of spectators who were cheering on whatever blood sport was happening in the nucleus of that circle.
I barreled through the anemic mass of people, taking in the large asshole senior, Jeremy Brockman who, looking like a demented bull with his hands balled, was standing over my cowering friend, Jonathan.
I couldn’t stand violence or people picking on others they considered weaker than themselves.
I didn’t think.
I just acted.
Scrambling up Jeremy’s back, I wrapped my hands around his brutish face and dug my nails into his skin.
“Ow! What the hell?” He swiveled around, trying to throw me off.
I just squeezed him harder with my legs. “Leave him alone, you asshole!” I screamed as he danced back and forth in pain.
“Get off of me, you bitch!” He tried to peel my fingers off his face.
“No, you big bully! Leave him alone!” I screamed in his ear, digging my fingernails further into his skin. “How dare you pick on him! You make me sick!” I yelled in outrage, undone by his unjust treatment of Jonathan.
He just laughed bitterly like he was an evil villain from some Disney movie as he swiftly rotated his body around and threw his back against the unforgiving metal lockers, ramming my spine and ribs together.
I gasped as I lost my breath in a world of hurt and fell off him. I slid to the ground in a thud, wondering how I could be in so much pain as I lay on my side.
“That’s right, bitch. Stay on the ground, like the dog yo—” he said, turning his viciousness on me, as he raised his leg to kick my stomach.
“What the fuck, man? Were you really going to kick her?” Beau asked as he jumped in front of me. “Not cool, man. Not cool.” He thumped his hand hard against Jeremy’s chest.
“What’s it to you?” Jeremy spit out.
They were almost even in height, but Beau had him by about an inch. Jeremy was hefty, but Beau’s rage made him hesitant.
Beau grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and tossed him up against a locker on the other side of me with a loud bang. “How does it feel man?” He made sure Jeremy’s head slammed against the locker. “You like it?”
Jeremy gave a mean smirk. “Come on, man. I was just joking.”
I glanced over at Jonathan, who had a split lip. “This is not a joke! He’s bleeding, you asshole!” I screamed furiously, trying to get to my feet.
Beau glanced at me, his gaze softening for a second. “Marla, I got this.”
“Yes, you do. I’m just mad at this jerk for hurting Jonathan,” I said as my back spasmed in serious pain and I collapsed back down to the linoleum floor.
“What’s happening to you, man? Since when do you give a shit?” Jeremy fronted, but I could tell he was scared.
Another ferocious scowl filled Beau’s face. “I give a shit when you mess with people I care about.”
“Why the hell would you care about a retarded kid?”
“Wrong answer,” Beau said, slamming Jeremy’s head against the locker again. “Don’t ever touch them again. Do you understand?”
Jeremy scoffed as he tried to break Beau’s hold, but the hockey player wasn’t having it.
He clasped the sides of Jeremy’s chin in one hand. “I want to hear you say you’ll leave them alone.”
“Damn, man. All right, I’ll leave them alone,” Jeremy agreed in a whiny voice.
“That better be true or I won’t be so nice next time. Now apologize.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy mumbled as he was released, slinking off as the crowd dispersed.
“You better be,” I yelled after him as I slid over to Jonathan who was slumped over against another locker.
The corner of his mouth was bleeding while his normally bright brown eyes were blank with shock.
Poor guy.
“Oh, Jonathan. Are you okay?” I took some clean tissue from my pocket and dabbed it on the side of his mouth.
His brown eyes went super sad. “He wanted a pop, Marla, but he wouldn’t pay fifty cents. I tell him, fifty cents. He just laughed and then he hit me.”
“I’m so sorry Jonathan that he was mean to you. You were so brave standing up to him. You’re brave guy.”
“I am?”
“You sure are. You and Beau both.”
“Let’s not forget about you, Sunshine. You took a nasty hit back there. How are you feeling?” Beau questioned as leaned down and gently put his hand on the small of my back.
I relaxed as he touched me. “I’ve been better. But I wasn’t about to let Jonathan deal with that jerk on his own.”
“Now I know who to call when I’m in trouble,” he joked as he gingerly picked me up and carried me down the hall.
He walked Jonathan down to the nurse, but Beau didn’t put me down. Instead, he continued walking toward the parking lot.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“To the chiropractor. I think you need an adjustment.”
“The chiropractor? What do they do?”
“Crack your back. I’ll take you to mine. I get adjusted all the time.”
“Is it safe?” I asked as he shifted me in his arms.
“Yeah and you’ll feel better.”
“How did you know to come help me?” I asked as we went through the exit door.
“Stacy found me. That was brave, Sunshine. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Jeremy like that.”
“I hate bullies.”
“I can see that. How’s your back doin’?” he asked as he put me in the passenger seat of his car.
I hissed in pain. “It hurts.”
“Yeah, now you know what it feels like when I get rammed into the boards.”
“You’re strong, you can take it,” I teased, despite my agony.
He laughed, but his blue eyes grew shiny and sincere as he ran his hand along my face. “So are you. You’re the strongest girl I know, Marla Matthews.”
And with that, my shell cracked open and I gave my heart to Beau Shepard forever.
The bell rang again, the fighters meeting in the middle of the ring.
“Give him hell, Beau!” I screamed, caught up in this gutsy, passionate, complicated man.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Beau:
It had been six months since my last fight and I was ready to get back into the ring. Nothin’ like a little combat to make me feel alive, as I pitted my skills against another man’s.
I always came into a fight prepared, which meant knowing my opponent’s weaknesses. Nick Brown’s ground game was good, but not great. He had one or two submissions I needed to watch out for. His boxing was mediocre, but he was stubborn and would go the distance.
Still, it was a chess match.
His move.
My move.
But I don’t really think in a fight.
It’s all about muscle memory, instinct and survival. I rely on my body to do what I’ve trained it to do. At the same time, I have to keep my wits about me. It was crucial to control my adrenaline and my movements, two keys to winning any fight.
I came out aggressively in the first round, setting a punishing pace as I fought my opponent. He covered up as I punched and jabbed, but I didn’t give him an inch to breathe. I couldn’t let him get close and take me down where he
could beat me. My jujitsu had improved, but it still wasn’t my best tool.
I controlled the stand up game. He couldn’t get inside and I picked him apart with kicks to his legs along with some unexpected punches. He managed one takedown, but I broke his hold and got to my feet before he could pounce.
The first round ended as I threw a roundhouse kick at his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. I left him leaning against the fence, starving for air as I went to my corner.
“Spit!” Ibrahima demanded as I sat on the stool, drinking water.
I obliged as he mopped my forehead with a cool sponge, sweat trickling down my back. My adrenaline was running hot, nothing hurt yet, but I would feel it the next day.
“You’re doing great,” he said, checking my face for wounds. “How are you feeling?”
“Good, I’ve got him where I want him,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
“Your pace is great. He can’t keep up with you. Look for him to try to take you out with a submission in the next round.”
“Not gonna happen,” I said as I caught a streak of red making its way to the cage.
I tracked it as Ibrahima continued to give me strategy. “You can take him. His left arm is weak. You’ve got to get in there with your right hook and mess him up.”
I nodded, my attention focusing on the vision in red pushing her way to the front of the cage.
Marla was gorgeous.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
She was dressed head to toe in designer goods. I’d personally picked out everything she was wearing, from the diamond choker snug against her delicate throat to the hot dress hugging her curves.
She locked eyes with me, staring at me like no one else was in the room.
Hunger.
Heat.
Tenderness.
God, she sucked me in, her red dress striking against the harshness of the black fence. I tried to focus on the strategy Ibrahima was laying out, but it was no use with her staring at me.
She was jostled by the rowdy crowd, but her gaze never wavered. Her bright glance reminded me what it was like when we were in high school, just figuring out our feelings for one another.
I had no reason to see Marla anymore after my paper was done, but I went out of my way to walk by her locker, just hoping to catch a glimpse of her sweet profile. One afternoon, I found her right after fifth period, hunched over her locker, her shoulders shaking. I could tell she was upset, so I stopped to check on her.
“Hey, Sunshine,” I said as I leaned against the locker next to hers.
She glanced at me with a tear-streaked face. “Hey,” she answered sadly.
“What’s wrong?”
“My necklace broke.” She held out her hand, a silver chain hanging limply off the side of her palm.
The necklace was in two parts, the chain busted.
I ran my hand over her clenched one. “Can I see it?”
“Sure.”
Containing a locket, it was simple silver rectangle with a chorded border.
“May I?” I asked, indicating I wanted to open it.
“Sure.” She shrugged as I popped the locket open.
Inside was a picture of Marla as a young girl on one side and her mom in all her glory on the other. They shared the same eyes and stunning smile.
“Your mom was beautiful. Now I see where you get your beauty,” I said, hoping to cheer her up.
“You think I’m beautiful?” she asked in a hushed voice.
I stared into her big, brown doe eyes brimming with vulnerability. “Yeah. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
Her cheeks flushed brightly as we stared at one another, lost in something that threatened to blow up in my chest.
“You’ve got to come out hard, Beau!” Ibrahima shouted, above the roar of the crowd as reality crashed down on me.
I shook my head, trying to return my attention to the fight at hand. This was not the fuckin’ time to lose my mind, especially over the woman I was trying to punish. I focused on Ibrahima’s fiery stare as he slapped me on the shoulder.
“Now go get him!” he yelled as he handed me my mouth guard.
I shot up, ready to go.
Nothing was gonna stop me now.
This guy was going down.
I crashed my fists together and came out with a bang as the bell rang for the second round. We circled each other as we went toe to toe.
Faking him out, I waved my hands back and forth to distract him from blocking the roundabout kick I threw at his chest, which sent him backwards into the fence.
I shot forward, pounding my opponent with my fists against the clinch. He wasn’t about to give in, though. Trading blows, we slugged it out for a little while until I caught him with a vicious uppercut that had him seeing stars.
Going in for the kill, I swung for the knockout with my right hand. But he ducked at the last second. Before I had time to react, he was moving toward me with his lighting quick speed.
Taking advantage of my vulnerable position, he grabbed my left arm and tumbled to the floor. Still standing, I was caught off balance as he arched back and threw his legs around my arm.
Crap. Not good.
The crowd went berserk as his whole weight pulled down on my arm. The pain was excruciating. In another minute, my shoulder would rip from the socket. I had to stay calm, even though I wanted to panic.
I slammed him into the mat, breaking his sweaty hold on my arm. He rolled over and came to his feet as I shook my arm out. It was numb, but was still intact. I wasn’t about to let it slow me down.
We circled again and he landed a gritty shot to my ribcage. That hurt.
I came back for more, delivering some lethal elbows to his head, busting him wide open. Blood poured from his forehead as we went at it.
I could tell he was running out of gas and getting tired. All those blows had him hurting. He was weakened; I just had to take advantage of any opportunity I got.
Crack!
His fist connected with my jaw, rattling my senses. But I stayed on my feet as he overstepped his punch. Acting quickly, I swept my leg behind his and brought him to the mat.
We grappled for a few seconds, but I was able to slip my arm around his neck, putting him in a chokehold as I leaned back, bringing him with me. I squeezed hard, holding on as he wrestled hard to get free.
His breathing was labored as he fought me, like a fish flailing on the bank of a river, but I had him. Fatigue started to set in, but my non-stop conditioning saved my ass.
Just ten more seconds and he would pass out.
Come on, Shepard. Hold the fuck on.
He tapped my arm, signaling his surrender.
It was over.
I had won.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Marla:
“Hold on, Beau...hold on!” I screamed after he snaked his forearm around bulldog’s neck and arched back.
Excitement rushed through my blood as agonizing seconds ticked by. Sheer power and determination were in full effect as Beau held on relentlessly. Finally, his opponent tapped his forearm. I knew that meant Bulldog was giving up.
Beau had won!
Clapping wildly, I was deliriously happy to see him overcome his opponent. Beau met my gaze as he was declared the winner and I couldn’t help but beam back at him.
After he disappeared from the octagon, I was escorted back out to the limo by the driver, where I was left to stew and wonder what Beau wanted.
Glancing down, I realized my stockings were a jagged mess from running around without my shoes on. I shimmied out of my hose and stuck them in my purse. They had been worth ruining to get a front row view of Beau’s fight.
After a while, Beau’s over-sized, bruised body floated into the back seat. He had showered and changed, looking like a civilized man in his crisp blue suit. A far cry from the warrior in the cage. He took a seat across from me, so we faced each other.
I was fighting my attraction to him, hard. I
was more than a little turned on, taking in Beau’s primal, savage side, but I managed to ignore my desire to kiss his split upper lip and the shiner forming over his left eye. It was more important to stay clearheaded as we battled over whatever it was he wanted.
“Did you have a good time tonight, Marla?” he asked with a delicious smirk.
“Watching you beat the crap out of another man?” I asked coolly, trying to pretend I didn’t find it hot.
“It was a good fight.”
“I would agree.”
“So you had a good time?” he pressed.
“I don’t know if I had a good time, but it was definitely interesting to watch you fight. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you take someone down.”
“Yeah, it has been a long time. You’ve missed a lot.”
“I know I have. That was quite the show you put on, Beau. Why don’t you tell me why I’m really here tonight?” I asked, pointing to my outfit.
His finger ran across my knee. “I’ve always liked you in red.”
“I didn’t think you liked much about me, Beau.”
He let out a biting laugh. “Let’s focus on the positive...you’ve been a bad girl.”
“Oh? How have I been bad?” I uncrossed my legs, turned on by his words.
His blue eyes flickered with heat as he shot me a wolfish grin. “You distracted me during my fight.” He reached down, took my foot out of my black Jimmy Choo, and put it in his lap. “What were you thinking about when you rushed up to the cage?” His strong fingers massaged the pad of my foot.
I held in a groan. “Just remembering some times in high school.”
“Me too. God, it used to be so sweet to be inside you,” he admitted unexpectedly.
I tried to react calmly, but my chest heaved in excitement. “Why are telling me that?” I asked breathlessly.
“Because I want to make a deal with you.”
My cheeks flushed. “What kind of deal?”
“The kind that will make us both happy. But there are certain things I want from you.” His hand stroked my foot and then hovered above my leg, the warmth of his skin radiating inches from my flesh.
My thigh begged to be kissed, fondled, and wrapped around his waist.