Love TKO

by Selene Chardou

  I smiled at her and tried not to cry because she was telling me the truth on so many levels. I was a creature of habit and my weakness lie in how I looked at life. I spent too much time placing blame instead of wondering how I could solve the problem. I was always looking back when I should have been looking forward. My poor attempt at escaping to France had nothing to do with me wanting to live in a different country and everything to do with escape.

  I should have known all about how I couldn’t just run to keep my past from catching up with me. Hell, it’d followed me from Reno to Vegas without a problem; what the hell would traveling to France do? I would still be me, stuck in my body and re-living all the nightmares I’d been through. It was time to stand up and face the music.

  Ugh! I hated when someone else shined a bright strobe light on my excessive amount of flaws.

  “You’re right. I should know that without having to hear it from you.” I breathed deeply and Torin entered the lounge, still sweaty from the ring but wearing a towel around his neck.

  Honor glanced at me with nervous hazel-green eyes before she turned to face my knight in shining armor. He may not have been flawless but then again, who the hell wanted perfection? I preferred my men with real life problems and enough imperfections they didn’t judge me from looking so great on the outside but knowing how my life was fucked from the inside out.

  I was tired of thinking about this whole issue. If I really wanted to solve my problems then I needed to talk to the one person who could aid me in my current predicament, and that person wasn’t Honor.

  She turned around and greeted Torin before she escaped the lounge with the excuse she wanted to talk to Kurt.

  Torin sat beside me and I watched him as he toweled the sweat from his torso before he allowed me to embrace him.

  “You hate the gym.”

  “I know but I had to see you and that outweighs how I feel about coming here.” I smiled and looked into his vivid ice-blue eyes.

  “Yeah, I torture you sometimes, don’t I?”

  “Only sometimes?”

  “It’s two days from the fight and the odds are against Rodriguez two to one. I’m not an idiot. I won’t make you a widow before you have a chance to become my bride and I don’t want anyone else to get caught up in this if I don’t follow through. I’m training hard but it’s only because I’m gonna throw the fight and don’t wanna make it look too obvious.”

  I felt like I could breathe again as I grabbed his hand closest to me, and tried not to cry. He sat next to me and I sighed out loud from blessed relief. “Thank you, sweetie. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. Not right now. I wouldn’t be able to take it.”

  “Shh.” Torin wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. I was surrounded in the mélange of a freshly washed body and masculine sweat. “I can’t do it…I can’t risk those bastards hurting anyone I love because I know they would do it for the money.”

  “They would,” I responded in a quiet voice. “I don’t want you to throw the fight either and I so badly want you to have your championship. It would be yours if you weren’t with me—”

  “That’s bullshit, Chiara. I could be with anyone or no one and they still planned to put me in this position. It was my stupidity for thinking I didn’t have a bull’s-eye target on my back after what I did. Karma’s a bitch and then some. Everything I’m sufferin’, I deserve. No two ways about it—this is my father’s final act of vengeance from the grave. The one thing I have worked so hard in my life to achieve I can’t have. I don’t deserve to represent the UFC as the one true champion when all my life I’ve been less than dirt. It’s my penance.”

  “Torin, listen to yourself. You don’t even fuckin’ believe in God and you’re spouting this penance bullshit? How do you know you’re less of man than Victor Rodriguez? Are you under some guise that fucking asshole is noble? He’s not. He’s the scum of the fuckin’ earth and he can’t fuck to save his life to boot. Plus his dick-size leaves a lot to be desired and he likes jack-rabbit sex.”

  I breathed out loud as my fiancé looked at me like I’d stolen something.

  “TMI?” I questioned in a meek voice.

  “You’re fucking well right that’s TMI. I don’t want to know anything about Rodriguez’s cock size although I’m glad he can’t measure up to me.” He smiled before he kissed me and our tongues sought one another’s out as if our lives depended on it.

  I couldn’t express how elated I felt. I didn’t have to worry for the next two days because he’d lifted a huge burden off my shoulders. Knowing he would risk it all just to keep what really meant something in this world was more than I’d ever asked for. I could finally exhale, knowing in the end, everything would be fucked up but all right.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Torin

  TORIN HAD MEANT what he said about throwing the fight until Chiara made her big confession.

  He knew it was pointless to risk the rest of their lives over one fight, even if it was for the championship and bragging rights that he was the best mixed martial arts fighter in the world, at least for the year.

  However, when she unloaded her colossal secret about Victor “Asshole” Rodriguez being a former client, all bets were off. No way would he touch that whore Victor married with a borrowed dick but the fact that the guy he was fighting had fucked his woman was not okay.

  Call it a pissing contest or whatever immature phrasing fit best but at that moment, Raymond, Angelo and Karl could all kiss his Irish ass and hope Leprechauns spouted out after they’d done so. His pride was much too strong to be defeated by an underendowed Puerto Rican who had an ego the size of the Empire State Building and awful taste in women to match. Though Rodriguez couldn’t seem to choose quality women, Chiara had been the lone exception.

  It was stupid he’d decided to make this championship about his dick but he couldn’t allow Victor to beat him. He was in the best fighting shape of his life and he couldn’t afford to throw this one last chance away. He would be damned if he’d end his career before he had the championship under his belt. It wasn’t fair he should have to sacrifice everything he worked so hard for on a whim. Chances were Raymond, Angelo and Karl wouldn’t do shit if he didn’t follow through with throwing the match. They were all talk and no action.

  Torin spent two days psyching himself out that if Victor was the stronger opponent then he would win with no help from him. There was no way he would give that asshole the satisfaction of helping him out and ruining his chance at some last minute glory before he retired. Everything else was bullshit.

  The day the match approached, he was all nerves though it didn’t start until eight that evening. He ate very little and didn’t go to the gym since it was a Saturday but he did use his own personal gym to work out for two hours.

  Torin was in excellent shape and perfectly conditioned for the fight. He certainly didn’t want to go out there and make a fool of himself. He still wanted to be at the top of his game, even though he had aches and pains in the usual areas and his body was incapable of not hurting most days. Real athletes got used to it but he wanted to stave off arthritis as long as possible. With all the broken bones, torn ligaments and various other injuries he’d received over the years, it was par for the course.

  Chiara walked in while he was jumping rope and admired the view until he’d finished. He swigged from a thirty-two ounce bottle of water and set it down after he’d wipe the excess sweat away with a towel.

  “What’s up, darlin’?”

  “Kieran is here to see you and he’s alone.”

  “Okay, tell him I’ll be right down—”

  “Yeah, right. I have heard that sorry ass excuse before. I will send him upstairs.”

  Torin sat down on the black leather La-Z-Boy recliner sofa and tried to slow down his breathing as he heard the voice of Kieran’s talking to Chiara before he bound up the stairs in a hurry.

  “Man, you look whipped. Rough night?” Kieran greeted with
a little too much facetiousness in his tone.

  “Fuck off. My night was fine. It’s fight night and you know how I am on those, especially when it’s a Championship match. Not like I’ve had many of those.” He stood in a distracted manner and started the treadmill.

  “Can we talk like brothers for a minute?” Kieran didn’t bother to play down his Irish accent. “I’ve been watchin’ you and Chiara. You’re both nervous and if everything is okay and you’re fine with throwin’ the fight then why are you two so pent up? Help me understand what’s going on because I truly don’t get it.”

  Torin began to jog at a steady pace on the treadmill. “Are you fuckin’ with me? Do you think I want to throw tonight’s fight? What kind of pussy do you think I am? I hate I have to do it but I’m afraid what will happen if I don’t—”

  “Cut the shit, Tor. You have no intention of throwin’ the fight, and even if you did, we both know you’re a whole different person in the ring. Hell, you’re a monster when you fight. Period.”

  He held on to the sides of the treadmill and jumped off before he pressed end on his session. His brother had to go there and that wasn’t fucking fair, especially when he’d only been trying to protect his family. Isn’t that what the second oldest child of the family did and this little cocksucker had the nerve to question his decisions?

  “Listen to me, Kieran, don’t ever come into my house and talk that kind of clueless bullshit again. You weren’t the one Da was trying to beat all those years ago and you sure as fuck froze up just like the rest. If I hadn’t done what I did, he might have very well murdered me.

  “And yeah, you’re right. I don’t wanna fuckin’ throw this fight because I shouldn’t have to but the odds are two to one in my favor. Raymond, Angelo and Karl knew what they were doing when they fucking engineered this, making Chiara think this was somehow her fault when she had fuck all to do with it. They always planned for this to go down and they were just waiting for the right time. I worked damn hard to cement my position in the octagon and you honestly think I want to give that prick the satisfaction of winning? If he wins tonight, it’ll be fair and square. No other way. Not now. Not fucking ever.”

  Kieran cleared his throat. “Sorry, bro, I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I’m just sayin’…you got more to think about than your pride. Is one night of happiness worth causing the aftermath a win from you will provoke? Of course you were going to be an odds-on favorite. You’re the underdog, you’re humble and you have the luck of the Irish—”

  “—only fuckin’ luck we had as Irish was—”

  “—bad luck!” Kieran exclaimed before he smiled at his brother with bright blue eyes, their mother’s eyes.

  “Yeah, that ain’t no joke. I swear to Christ I would throw that fight because I don’t want anything to happen and I sure as hell don’t want to spend the rest of my days in prison for self-defense. They won’t see it that way though because I’m a professional and my fists are considered lethal weapons. I should have never gone home that Christmas to see you all. I should have never started on Pop’s drinking, especially on Boxing Day. What December twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth do you remember him not passing out from the drink? That was just…bad decision-making on my part.” Torin placed his hands over his face.

  “Tor, doesn’t matter what you did. It wasn’t murder. Da started in on you and he started pushing and beating you. Won’t the courts take that into consideration? He was a former heavy weight boxer—his fists should be considered lethal weapons too. Not to mention he beat all our asses—Mom included—at least once a week. You didn’t do anything wrong so when it all comes down to it, what’re they holding over your head?”

  “They plan to give the photographs back to the Police Services of Northern Ireland and PSNI will hand over the information to the Public Prosecution Service. I can’t go through a trial and put Mam through that all over again. It’s not fair. He might not have given a fuck about us but at one time, the bastard loved Mam and she loved him too. That’s the only reason why I allowed that useless son of a bitch to live as long as he did. Other than that, I would have killed him as a minor and I wouldn’t have to worry about this shit.”

  “What difference does it make? Do you really think PSNI is going to come after you now? You’re a hero to Irish people everywhere and especially all those young boys in Ireland. What you did—people will understand. You beat our father to death out of pent up rage. Hell, you hadn’t had a drink that day but when you two got into it…you weren’t yourself, bro. You became someone else and that wounded boy came out with a vengeance because you could defend yourself.

  “I think when it all comes down to it, they’re basically not holding much of anything over your head. They needed to convince you though and they got you good and proper but when push comes to shove, they don’t have a broken leg to stand on. What’re they gonna do? I think it’s more hot air they’ve been blowing up your ass than anything else. I just don’t believe anything could happen to you when you have Fiona, Seamus, Devin and me who would all come to your defense. We know Shane would too…if he was in the country but he’s not. We’re not gonna allow anything to happen to you, ya hear?”

  Torin nodded his head as he walked over and sat beside his brother. “But this stays between you and me. I mean, I don’t know how much you tell Sienna or Tara but I gotta know you won’t go talkin’ shit about tonight’s plan to Chiara. She’s spooked enough and worried about what’ll happen to me. She said they could be pretty relentless when they’ve got it in for someone.”

  “I don’t doubt her but I also know that you being you—and a Duffy—we don’t scare easily. Show those assholes you’re not going to let them write the history of how your career ended. Give Rodriguez hell in the ring and if you lose, then at least you are safe in the knowledge it wasn’t for lack of trying.”

  He nodded again and hoped to God his brother was right.

  TORIN’S DRESSING ROOM where he prepared for the Championship match was opulent and stocked full with fresh flowers from his sponsors, fans and well-wishers. Raymond, Angelo and Karl had sent over huge arrangements and wished him good luck. How ironic: the three of them controlled the whole outcome yet they wanted to still look like they were ordinary decent criminals when they there were anything but. He couldn’t help the smirk he wore at the irony of the whole situation.

  All these thoughts disappeared as Chiara stepped into the room with Neil by her side. She looked breathtaking in a sexy white Versace dress that emphasized her olive skin and amber eyes. Her hair was up as usual in a chignon and it complimented her understated makeup and regal qualities. It was times like this he could understand why she’d cost a mint as an escort; there wasn’t anything cheap or tacky about her. Her beauty shined through from the inside out and made her that much more attractive. She had a good heart and how couldn’t a man fall for that?

  Torin’s eyes never left her as he watched the way she moved, how her hips swayed underneath the clingy material. It made him realize how much he loved her. Yes she was gorgeous but there were true underlying qualities he knew he would never find in another woman. He needed her like the air he breathed. She truly was his everything and he’d never thought that way about anyone.

  Chiara was a keeper, plain and simple.

  She smiled at him as he wrapped his arms around her. “Listen, I just wanted to wish you good luck and I’ll be out there, hoping for the best. You deserve this, babe. Promise me you’ll do your best.”

  “Of course, darlin’. Don’t I always?” Torin smiled at her, and her laugh echoed in the dressing room.

  “Yes, you do indeed.” She leaned over and he took the opportunity to kiss her luscious mouth.

  “Ten minutes until show time.”

  Chiara nodded as her hands landed flat on his hard chest. “I know…I wanted to tell you it’s only one night and this fight isn’t your whole life or career. It’s a day. That’s it so remember what’s at stake.”

  W
as this her subtle way of telling him to throw the fight?

  “I know.”

  She turned toward Neil and back to him. “Okay. I’m going to take my seat next to Kieran and Sienna. By the way, Fiona is here, and so is Seamus and Devin.”

  “Oh, Christ, I forgot they were all comin’ into town.”

  “Why wouldn’t they? This is the biggest game in town right now. Of course they would be here if they could make it.”

  Torin watched her as she walked out. His eyes finally settled on Neil who wore an unreadable expression.

  “What’s up?” he wondered out loud as he pulled on his long Kelly-green robe that would come off before he and Rodriguez began fighting.

  “I’m not an idiot, Torin. I’ve been training you for almost ten years. I know you by now and you think it’s a secret what Raymond and Angelo have over you? I would be insulted as your trainer and manager if you threw this fight tonight. Whatever those gangster fucks are holdin’ over your head, we can take care after the fact. You’ve worked too damn hard to throw everything away and I’m not gonna let ya. I know where that will get you and you’re not gonna end like your old man, you got that?”

  Torin didn’t say anything. He knew Neil was telling the truth and why he shouldn’t give in—he’d never forgive himself if he did and end up bitter just like his father.

  “I wasn’t goin’ to do anything other than kick Rodriguez’s ass. You think I wanna give that pompous fuck anything? I’ll do what needs to be done. You can bet on that.”

  “I know because I did.” His coach’s blue eyes glanced at him. “Yeah, I laid a five thousand bet on you. I don’t usually gamble but seein’ this’ll be your last fight, I thought we could both go out in style.”