I glanced around the gym, unable to sort through the multitude of people gathering for the big events. My fight was coming up and I’d promised Dominick a good turnout. As the seats creaked and the benches rumbled with people walking up and down, I could only hope I’d delivered on my word.
I sighed, softly shaking my head as I moved ahead of him to start another short warmup session. “I hope she is.”
What else could I say? I truly hoped she was nearby. I was going to save her and it wasn’t in anyone else’s best interests for me to have to sniff her out.
Brock nodded, seeing something in my expression that spoke to the carnal need in his to see Sara again. Then it dawned on me. He was interested in my best-friend. I got a goofy grin for a split second and made sure he didn’t see it. They could both do worse and neither of them could find better.
I was going to have to let Stryker know. Then I stopped as Brock ducked inside the boys’ locker room and I waited by the doorway. I wasn’t supposed to be there. I had a fight up next.
Who did I think I was getting excited about something as normal as a boy liking a girl? Did I really think I had the luxury of thinking about things like that? I wanted to talk to Stryker about his cousin liking my best friend when I should be thinking and focusing on saving her life.
On saving all of our lives.
I bit my bottom lip, glancing around as I turned back toward the ring. I was next. My thirty minutes having been drastically cut down.
Stryker wasn’t there. I didn’t have time to go find him as the referee motioned for me and Letesha from the other side of the gym.
The din of the crowd suddenly hit me as people stomped their feet and whistled. Then I heard it.
“Alex. Asher. Alex. Asher. Alex. Asher.” The chanting surrounded the gym, circling inward toward the ring. The crowd didn’t know it, but they were actually chanting for me without using my real name.
I retrieved my bag from the corner of the ring where I’d set it for Brock’s match and I pulled my gloves out of it. I didn’t even have time to wrap my wrists.
My head wasn’t in the fight and I couldn’t afford that.
I spied my dad off to the side as the chanting continued. He looked around in confusion, his brow furrowed. What a clueless parent. I wanted to approach him and tell him what it all meant, but what was the point? He wouldn’t see it. He wouldn’t understand what I’d been up to using his name. He wouldn’t care unless it was to get mad at me. Who knew what was going on with him?
Yanking my hoodie off, I tossed it to the ground by my shoes. My t-shirt followed and I slid my sweatpants from my legs, allowing them to join the rest of my gear in my corner.
I suddenly caught my breath as the reality of my fight closed in on me. I strapped my gloves on, the weighted leather weird feeling without the wraps beneath. A piece of Velcro bit into my skin and I tried to unstrap it to situate it better, but I couldn’t get it right since my hands were basically useless in the gloves.
I’d have to leave it. My short hair meant I didn’t have to worry about ponytails or braids which I was suddenly extremely grateful for.
I had to fight. And not just for a point or because I had been thrown on a card, but because I’d gotten into the ring with the wrong girl whose brother had been jealous of her. He’d beaten her. He’d drugged her. Then he’d let me do the dirty work.
Now what? I had to do it again, except this time, it wasn’t to the death. It was for a point system to see who would make it to the end. Who would win the night and get Dominick the most bang for his buck with sales in flesh, drugs, and gambling.
I leaned against the base of the ring, closing my eyes as nausea crawled up my throat. I swallowed the bites of jerky back at the very real possibility that I was dealing with a PTSD moment from the last few weeks.
I didn’t want to get in that ring. I didn’t want to fight a girl I used to consider a friend – a girl who had helped me cut my hair so I could make weight. That girl had no idea what she was going up against.
She didn’t understand the desperation coursing through me to save my friends and family. She didn’t know that I was chasing victory for all the wrong reasons but to me they were more important than any other kind of reason.
My knees shaking, I straightened, trying to focus on the smell of the canvas and the sounds of the referee blowing his whistle as he called Letesha and me into the ring.
I blinked rapidly, ignoring the chanting of Alex. Asher. as it swelled around me in an almost dizzying rhythm.
We climbed up onto the canvas. I swung my leg through the ropes, pushing the one beneath me down further as I brought my other leg through. I stood, glancing habitually toward my corner for who would be my support. No one stood in my corner.
No one had my back. Not that I begrudged anyone. We all had things we had to do. Between Stryker getting ready for the final fight in just a few hours, Brock cooling down from his last fight moments before, and Gunner doing who knew what, I couldn’t be upset that they weren’t there. I didn’t even want my dad there, even though having someone there would have made a difference in my mindset.
It couldn’t be my dad. I didn’t want him there and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because things were starting to come into focus as I put two and two and two together with him and Danielle.
How long had he been with her? Had he cheated on mom with her? Why was Danielle involved in any of the things we did? And why was she the one who had gotten him a job at the school?
Nothing felt right with that situation and I didn’t want to pull it into the forefront of my mind when I should be focused solely on kicking Letesha’s ass.
I faced my old friend across the canvas, bounding on my feet out of habit more than anything. In fact, I had a disconnected sensation that everything was happening like it was simply because I’d done it so many times before. I wasn’t fully there participating in the moment like I should be. Honestly, I was blanking things out and it terrified me in ways I couldn’t explain.
Letesha squared off in front of me, her jaw set and her lips pressed in an unforgiving line.
She stretched her head to the side, lengthening her neck and then moving to the other side. She didn’t bounce so much as shift her weight, slowly and methodically side to side, like she was getting ready to pounce.
I wasn’t normally nervous about my fights, but this one felt different. Everything about it felt wrong.
I glanced around the ring, my claustrophobia rearing its ugly head. My mouth went dry and for a split second a terrorizing fear ripped through me that I was going to pass out and forfeit the fight.
Not a possibility.
Fine. I could be afraid. I could be nervous, traumatized, lost, lonely, sad, blah blah blah whatever I needed to be, but I had to wait until I won the fight. Right then, I had to be terrifying and controlled.
Those were my options. That was it.
My nostrils flared and I tucked my chin, watching Letesha through my lashes as I smoothed out my breathing in preparation of major cardio.
I could feel the hairs on my arms move as I swung my fists through the air to warm my shoulders up. Hypersensitivity had clicked in. The fight was moments from starting and I had finally found the zone I needed to be in.
I could see the darkening of Letesha’s eyes as she fell into the zone, too. If nothing else, the fight would be a good one for both of us.
I just hoped we both survived the aftermath.
Chapter 15
Gray
We’d opted for five three-minute rounds because we were the only ones fighting that day in the female class. The first round was where I would gauge her technique, but she had something else in mind entirely.
Letesha’s normally reticent style had shifted and she thrust jabs at me with a supersonic intensity.
With my guard up, I pushed the majority of her punches back, watching in a more passive defensive stance than I normally take to see what direction she favored and w
hat punches left her open.
After her eighth jab that covered for an attempted hook, I noticed she dropped her guard completely in between her combos. That was something I could use.
I let her move me around the ring as I watched, guarded, ducked, and dodged her punches. I took a couple glancing blows to the side of my head and then on my shoulder before the first round ended and I retreated to my corner.
Unfortunately, instead of being alone which would have been preferable rather than the apparent alternative, my dad waited for me. He slapped a damp towel against my shoulders and spoke in a hushed furious whisper, glancing between me and my opponent. “What are you doing? You’re not a pussy fighter. Get in there and kick her ass.”
I gaped at him, unsure where his aggressive coaching was coming from. Normally Dad let me do what I wanted. He usually trusted my own style, letting me figure out the fighter I was against and then adjusting what I was doing to compete with that. “Back off. I’m doing my best.” I grabbed the towel from him and wiped at my over-heated neck and forehead. I squirted some water from the bottle he held into my mouth and thrust it back at him.
“Bull shit. This isn’t your best. You’re waiting. You already know Letesha. She’s mediocre. You’re better than that. You need to finish this and finish it fast.” He quirked his eyebrows upward and then smoothed the lingering desperation from the lines around his mouth and eyes.
Why would he be desperate? Why would he care what I did or didn’t do to Letesha or in what time frame? I narrowed my eyes as I studied him. “Wait a minute.” I blinked at him, as if gauging the truth was possible in the brief moment of time I had left before I was called back into the ring. “You know, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. I stared at him as I waited for an answer. We wouldn’t have much longer.
A flicker in his eyes answered me more honestly than any of his words, so I was still surprised when he said, “We have a lot of people counting on us.”
“Us?” This time I couldn’t help the squeak. “Us? Counting on us? Are you kidding me right now?” The referee blew his whistle with one sharp blast. I had to go back. I motioned the glove between my chest and my dad’s. “There is no us here. It’s me.” I didn’t care if that hurt his feelings. “You don’t have anything at stake. In fact, your sorry ass is added to my list of responsibilities. Again.”
I searched the crowd one more time, catching sight of Stryker sitting beside his cousins just off the side of the ring in my corner. Okay, I wasn’t actually alone. They’d made it out. That gave me a little boost to my confidence that I hung onto with a hunger I couldn’t explain.
I turned back to the fight, barely dodging the punch Letesha threw at my face before I’d completely returned. The girl wasn’t letting up and I didn’t recognize her style. It was sporadic and needy; two things I wasn’t sure I’d seen in many fighting styles. If she didn’t show some consistency at some point, I wouldn’t be able to plan out a defense strategy. I needed her to settle the hell down. Maybe a solid knock to her head would bop some sense in her.
But what Dad said was true. I was holding back – for multiple reasons. In the middle of my current fight, though, wasn’t the appropriate time for me to rationalize through what I’d had to deal with. The ring wasn’t a good spot for therapy while points and lives were on the line.
I stepped back when Letesha threw another hook, her fist wide while she partially dropped her left fist for a guard. Her sloppy control was starting to get on my nerves. A bop here or a thump there probably wouldn’t hurt too much, especially if it was to get her to find her place.
I had to let go of the consequences of my last fight. My opponent wasn’t going to die, no matter how hard I hit her and not in a controlled high school competition. There were adults there for a reason. I just had to forget that there had been more adults at my last fight and that, in fact, adults were the ones who had set up the events that had led to Sonya’s death.
If I were a believer in logic and practicality, I’d have to say that anything run by adults probably wasn’t the smartest thing to attach yourself to.
No. We were there to get a job done. All of us were. My own fighting style felt sporadic as well. I was nervous and jumpy with too many responsibilities on my shoulders. When had I taken on so much that I’d lost out on having the life of a teenager?
When my mom left? Before that?
I threw the occasional jab, grunting when I didn’t connect and gritting my teeth on the mouthguard when I did. Nothing felt solid. I hadn’t landed anything I could take to the bank.
Yet, again, neither had Letesha. I counted that as a minor win for now.
What if I lost? The truth was, I didn’t have time to sit there and try to figure things out, side stepping the fight and staying just one foot away from Letesha’s reach. I had to suck it up and get my hands dirty.
I could let go a little bit of my fear. I had to. Sara depended on it.
Letesha and I ducked and dodged, each of us throwing jabs and hooks like the other person had no idea what we were doing. The truth was, our punches were slow and planned and very obvious they were coming.
In an effort to move things along, I put the pressure on and maneuvered Letesha against the ropes. I moved to throw a hook and stepped in at the same time and she attempted an uppercut. Our legs entangled and we got locked up, our arms curled around each other as we tried to throw punches while keeping our guards up and the other person’s arms trapped.
For all of our clumsy fighting, our skin was damp with sweat and her thick braided hair had droplets along the base of her roots. “You have to let me win, Gray. You have to.” Letesha’s desperate pant came in between swings. The words were hard to make out with the thickness of her mouth guard tripping up her plump lips. She shot a glance at the referee as he got closer to us. We had a short time when lockup was permitted, but you had to make attempts to unknot. “Seriously, if I lose, they’re going to kill my brother and sister. Gray, please.” The last few words came on a whimper as she leaned into me, pushing back from the ropes.
“Who?” I dropped my arms as the referee pulled us apart, motioning for us to go to our own corners. But I knew, didn’t I? I knew who was evil enough to play both of the sides against each other with equal desperate consequences. He would do it just to ruin me. To destroy me. He hated me that much. Or maybe he wanted to use me that much. I wasn’t sure.
“Dominick.” Her eyes wide, Letesha returned to her corner, accepting water from a squirt bottle as she waited to be let back in the ring at me.
The ref’s whistle blew, signaling the end of the second round.
Three more to go. Nine minutes.
I gasped as my chest rose and fell. My cardio work couldn’t have prepared me for that reveal even as I’d suspected it. I rested my hand on my waist and waved the other for my dad to leave. Making eye contact with Stryker, I motioned for him to join me as cornerman.
He didn’t wait as he rushed up the side of the ring, not using a step stool or chair to get to where I needed him. He hooked his arm around the post and bent his head. He’d pulled on a hoodie with the school logo and colors splashed across the front and black workout pants.
I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to think with him so close.
My dad stepped back by the ringside chairs, his arms folded over his chest and a scowl dark on his face.
Stryker and I didn’t waste time exchanging pleasantries. We had less than two minutes on the outside.
“Dominick has her brother and sister. She’s going to fight me hard. This is making her reckless. I can’t guarantee I can win this, Stryker.” A kneading in my gut warned me that my own control was starting to slip. I didn’t need to say it out loud that Stryker and his cousins were the only people I could trust who Dominick hadn’t gotten to. Even my dad had been tainted by Dominick’s influence, I just wasn’t sure of the details.
Stryker stared over my shoulder at Letesha, reading the situation with an understanding
I never wanted.
“My dad knows, too. I’m not sure exactly how.” I rubbed at the back of my neck with my gloved hand. I just needed to hide my embarrassment.
“Your dad and Danielle are a thing. She… She works for Dominick and controls Asher as part of whatever this is that Dominick has going on. I’m not sure what he’s doing it all for or what he can gain from this, but he’s after all of us… hard.” The reveal tumbled from his lips like he’d been waiting a long time to tell me.
I nodded, slowly, blinking. “Sara thought my dad and Danielle were having a thing around the time my mom disappeared. Do you think…” Of course, it was all coming together. Maybe my mom had been a part of it as well. Didn’t that make more sense than she was kidnapped or something? They were all in on this and more than likely it stemmed from my dad’s gambling debt. Everything was usually trackable to that point.
“Look, don’t focus on that right now. We’ll get it figured out. I know we will.” He nodded in Letesha’s direction and looked back at me. “I need you to drag this out the rest of the rounds. Use your time outs, do whatever you can to get me more time. Do whatever it takes to not lose but also not to win outright.” He reached up, grazing my damp cheek with his thumb. “Don’t worry. This isn’t over. Not yet.”
I licked my lip, every ounce of my attention suddenly focused on the tension between us the last week. We both had focused on so many other things when I just wanted to focus on the heat between him and me.
I glanced up, holding his gaze. “This isn’t the best time, but… you didn’t mention my hair.” I suddenly needed to hear something from him that wasn’t about the fight, death, or threats.
His lips curved into the sexiest side grin, oozing with charm. “It’s sexy. You’re all kinds of sassy now. You’ll have to tell me about why that happened later. Maybe with your clothes off.” Winking, he nodded toward Letesha. “Don’t rush her. Remember, she’s fighting for someone she loves, too.”
And he turned me around with a hand on each shoulder. His worry about Letesha warmed me. He didn’t want her to suffer for trying to protect her own family. Something he and I both understood on a gut-wrenching level.
Her Champions: A high school bully romance (Bad Boys of Jameson High Book 3) Page 13