I should have known better than this. I’ve done some stupid shit, but this is by far the worst. I taste salt and metal at the back of my throat, and my breath comes in shorter and shorter gasps.
“What?” She looks over to the door, and we both see Frank walk by the window. She looks at me, and I see my own fear reflected in her face. This man has tangoed with her before, and we both know that we’re standing here just like targets. “Oh shit.” In a flurry of movement, Katy slams the box closed and shoves it in the bottom drawer where it was. She pushes me to the side and gets up from the desk, slamming the top drawer shut.
“What the fuck are we going to do?” My throat tightens more, and I swallow hard.
“Okay, okay. Let’s just act like we’re chatting.” Katy leans in and whispers in my ear. “You got the fucking files in your purse right?” I nod slowly, gulping again as I watch the door open, followed by Frank’s lumbering body walking inside.
“Looks like we’re having a little family reunion, Missy. Katy, I didn’t know you hung around with the likes of her.” Frank steps over to us, his body filling up the space around us. His black hair is perfectly coifed, as usual, a bit out of place next to his sweatpants and the Frank’s Gym shirt that he’s wearing. My face grows hot, and I feel like grabbing on to Katy for support. His gaze moves between the two of us. The guilt must be apparent on my face. The fear stirs inside of me again, creeping through my body, overtaking me.
“We were just chatting,” Katy says. “I’ve been staying at Josh’s place, and she wants me to get the hell out. Isn’t that right, Nat?”
“Yep.” I swallow hard. “That’s exactly right. She needs to get out since we know Josh isn’t welcome here anymore.”
“Oh, she talks,” says Frank. I look him directly in the eye, trying to read whether or not I see fear there. I don’t think I do, but that doesn’t mean he won’t guess that I’ve got the files. He looks down to my purse, and I feel like the air might be entirely sucked out of the room. “Is that really why you’re here?”
“Well...” Katy starts and glances over at me. “She told me that you’re not welcome at Josh’s fight. He’s been training hard, and he’s planning to win.” I freeze. Katy doesn’t know about Josh’s injuries. Sure, Josh is planning to win. But he and I both know he might not. Fuck.
“Oh is that right?” Frank looks at me, his black eyes filling up with anger.
“Yep,” I say again. Christ, I sound like a fucking idiot. Think. Think. “His hand has healed at like, lightning speed. He’s been training behind your back, with your trainer, and he’s going to show everyone how pathetic you are. He doesn’t need anything else but his talent to do that. He’ll show the world what you’re losing, and when he opens his own gym, every one of your boys will go along with him.”
“Sweetheart, I think you’re sadly mistaken if you think all that’s going to happen. I know the kid he’s fighting, and that kid is not injured, and he currently stands undefeated. I wouldn’t miss this shit for the world. And Josh ain’t got nothing on me, beautiful. There’s no way my boys will abandon me.”
“You’ve been warned,” I say. I grip the leather of my purse and hope his eyes aren’t drawn there again. “He doesn’t want you there. And he’ll... He’ll fuck you up if you are.”
“It ain’t like that boy to send his little woman to do his dirty work for him. I’m guessing you came by yourself, didn’t you sweetheart?”
“Yeah, I—like I said, I was just telling Katie when she had to leave.” I raise my chin. “Even if he doesn’t win, he’s—”
“Nat, stop. You’re pissing him off.” Katy steps in front of me and puts her hand up. She looks back at me, and when she does, Frank moves faster than I would have thought possible for a man Josh claims is “weak.” Frank moves in and catches Katy by the arm, flipping her down on the hard concrete floor. Before I can react, he grabs me by the shoulder, and an icy anger creeps through my body. I try to stomp down on his foot, but he moves back, laughing.
“Get your fucking hands off me, you creep.” I swing my leg up and aim for his balls. At the last second, he moves again, and my foot meets only air. The whole time, his hand has been on my shoulder, gripping me, holding me still like it’s an iron vise. He steps back, lining his body up with mine, and delivers a punch that lands squarely on my eye, followed by another. Katy screams and climbs to her feet, trying to pull Frank away from me. I’ve seen a lot of black eyes in my time—on patients, on Josh, on my daddy. But I’ve never had one, not for real, and I’ve never been punched with a man’s full force. The pain is searing hot, setting every nerve in my body on fire, taking my breath completely.
“I’m fucking done, don’t worry about your friend here, Katy.” Frank pushes me away and my back hits the cinder block wall. I slump down and raise my hand to my tender eye. Frank turns to Katy, and I barely comprehend what’s happening through the pain singing in my body. “I think you’d better get her out of here. Both of you can tell Josh that that nice black eye is a message of bigger things to come.” Katy stares at him, wide-eyed. “Go on. Get the fuck out.” He waves his hand in her face and steps toward her again. She shudders and then falls into action, helping me to my feet and stumbling toward the door and out into the parking lot.
“I’ll drive you home,” she says. I nod and let her help me into my car. She starts driving out to the island, tears in her eyes. I’m guessing she’s seen Frank hit a lot of people, but she’s really starting to realize who he is. I only speak to offer directions, and I lean my head against the coolness of the window, staring out until she pulls up into my driveway.
The rest of the day happens in a blur, but it all revolves around Katy keeping her shit together—and me completely losing mine. I lie on the couch crying for a long time, watching as Katy makes me an ice pack contraption out of old pantyhose she finds in my room, listening as she calls the hospital to say I won’t be in. The fear and shock mix together with the crazy pain that envelops my head. She even presses a Vicodin into my hand and gets me to take it. After that, I sleep.
When I wake, the sun is going down, and Katy’s arguing with Josh in the background. Ash and Summer are here too, and I open one eye to watch the spectacle. For once in the past month, the drama is happening without me in it, and I’m pretty fucking grateful for the relief.
“I’m going to kill that fucker,” Josh says. His voice comes out in a growl that I don’t like, but I don’t want to sit up. The ice pack is mostly melted, but it’s still cool and soft against my face. Katy’s made it so that it stays in place with the waistband of the hose.
“That’s what he wants you to do. Don’t you know anything? He’s probably waiting for you right now,” Katy says. Josh tries to storm out of the door, but Ash and Summer both hold him back. I have to say something. I open my mouth, but it doesn’t feel like I can form the words.
“And why the hell are you here, Katy?” Josh snarls.
“Frank kicked me out too—and in case you’re interested, I was helping your girlfriend over there. I don’t care how you feel about me, but she’s got a plan that will get us all out of Frank’s shit.”
“What are you talking about?” Josh tries to pull free of Ash again, but the older man holds him tight.
“The files,” I croak. “Katy helped me get them.”
“What?” Josh rushes over to me and helps me sit up, putting his arm around me possessively and pulling me into his body. “You got the files!”
“Katy figured out how to open the lock box. And she’s right. Frank’s not going to let you get out of dodge this time. You gotta make weight tomorrow, and you’ve gotta fight, no matter what.” My words are slurring together, but Josh nods and kisses me on the cheek. Even in the hazy glow of painkillers, I can see him thinking.
He turns to Katy and nods at her. “Thanks, Katy. You can stay here for the night if you need to. We’ll make sure you have a place to be.” Katy nods, and I start to drift off on Josh’s shoulder. He
still holds me fiercely, protectively.
I hear the lilt of Ash and Summer’s conversation in the background, the sounds of Katy cleaning up the kitchen and then the gentle hum of the dishwasher. For the first time, the sounds of home seem comforting.
I guess that’s what home is—a place with people in it, doing human things, making human sounds. Josh pulls me in tighter, and I fall down into sleep, waking in my bed many hours later.
A note on my pillow tells me that Josh is at the gym, training and working to make weight for the fight. Ash is with him, Summer is working a shift at the hospital, and Katy has gone back to Josh’s apartment for the time being. They’ll all be at the fight tomorrow night, and so will Frank. Katy and I made sure of that.
Tomorrow it’ll all shake out, one way or another.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I pace around the arena and survey the scene. It’s nicer than Frank's arena, which ain't much of one. Some of the other places Ash has shown me were bright, bustling, full of people who don't look like a bunch of drunk tourist assholes. This place falls somewhere in between. I can tell the cage was set up hastily, and I can only hope that it holds two fighters trying to beat the living shit out of each other. But it's bright and open, and the people filing in while I warm up are smiling and chatting. Some of them look like they could become drunk assholes, given the opportunity. But here, drinks are only served outside, and they're called "refreshments." There's no sloshing keg, no frat boys down for beach week. This place doesn't have the rougher edges of an underground arena, but it ain't quite the big leagues either.
Every once in a while, though, when I look up, I see a recruiter that I recognize. A UFC guy I've seen in passing on ESPN, a few bigger promoters that come to Frank's fights very occasionally, and a couple of dudes who were at the last big fight in Raleigh. This fight right here—it's as big as a fight gets in coastal North Carolina.
"You're distracted, kid." Even though Ash is barely ten years older, he always calls me "kid," and I half-bet he does it because he knows it'll make me pissed off before a fight. I look back at him, and he grins.
"Just wondering when Frank will get here,” I say.
Ash shrugs. "He might not come. You never know."
"Nat goaded him, probably got pretty deep under his skin. He'll fucking be here. According to one of the guys back at the gym, he might not even know I've got the files." I turn back to the punching bag and deliver a few elbow strikes, envisioning my opponent's ribs, the underside of his chin. "What the hell was I thinking, man?" A pang of anxiety hits my gut, and something twists deep inside. Frank's proven that he's more like a cockroach than a real man.
Tonight, I'm pretty sure he's fucked—but I might be too. Beneath the protective tape, I flex my knuckles, bending my left arm out and then making a fist with my injured right hand. Every part of me has been damaged by the stupid game I've been playing—and for what? So I could come here and get a chance at going big. The more I think about it now, the less sense it makes. I guess that's how it goes with big plans: there's always a letdown when you realize that it might fall the hell apart.
Just before the clock in the gym strikes eight, the announcer calls the fighters out from their respective corners. "Rage" Wilson is the fighter I'm going up against tonight—and he's undefeated in the semi-pro fighting circuit in North Carolina. Not that that's saying much. I could cough up a pretty good record myself, if we fudge away some of the fights I've thrown for Frank in the last year. I crack my knuckles, and Ash leads me up to the cage, then helps me with my mouthguard and my gloves.
"This is it, kid," he says. "You can do this."
I nod to him and step in the cage. The din of the crowd has heightened. Even though it's nothing like the whoops and hollers I hear at Frank's, the noise increases in volume and amps up that fighting place I keep deep inside.
The other fighter turns around, and after an insane month of preparation, I see him for what he is.
The face, I feel like I recognize that face. He smiles broadly at me and then winks. One of his front teeth glints gold in the fluorescent light of the arena, and I'm transported back in time to one of my very first fights with Frank.
He was one of Frank's fighters, and his name wasn't Rage back then. It was just Liam, and he was only eighteen when he beat the shit out of me in my second or third fight. He was part of Frank's hazing process, just like I've been for the past four or five years. A twist of anger hits my gut, and I shuffle in front of him, warming up, punching the air.
It's not him you're fighting tonight, not really. I close my eyes and envision the punches I'll land. I'll move quick and dodge out, show him that I work in a pattern. He'll think I'm lazy, think that's my strategy. When he's gotten used to it, I'll switch it up at the beginning of the second round. I'll make him complacent again before I take him down. I try to remember whether Liam favors a certain pattern, but my mind is drawing a blank, and it's not cooperating with me.
"You okay, kid?" I still have my eyes closed when I hear Ash's voice. "You know this fighter?" Ash whispers through the chain link walls of the cage. I nod and look over at "Rage" again. The ref is getting ready to announce us to the arena, getting ready to start the whole fucking fight. The only thing I can remember right now is that I never won when I fought Liam. And that whatever he did, I always ended up blacked the fuck out.
"I'll be fine, Ash. No turning back now." The ref calls out our names, and before I blink, the bell sounds. We take our places facing each other.
Somewhere in the crowd sits Natalie. I imagine her for a moment before I shuffle to the side and fake a first punch. Blond hair cascading over her shoulders, the perfect bow of her upper lip, the curve of her ass when I'm inside her. I shuffle again and land an elbow strike on Rage's left side. But he's quicker, ripping into my face with a left hook. I feel an impact on my right thigh at almost the same time, and in a second I'm on my back, the broken pieces of me smarting in pain.
I roll over and jump to my feet before Rage can leap on me and keep me down. I go in with another elbow strike and then a right hook that Rage expertly blocks. He lands a blow on my nose, and then another blow, and I'm dazed, dizzy, shuffling away from him by the end of the first round. The bell sounds, and Ash comes up with water. The ref called the round in favor of Rage, but I have to carry on, no matter what happens.
"Kid, this ain't like you," he says. "What the hell is going on?"
"I'm not strong enough," I whisper. "I thought I was, but I ain't, and—" The ref beckons us back up, but before the second bell sounds, I spot Natalie, sitting in one of the front rows. Her face is calm, and her hands are in her lap like she's a prim little lady. She smiles, and I'm struck by the lightness I feel.
The next round is back and forth. I draw on the strength in my left hand, fast on my feet, channeling the grace that I'm known for. And every so often, I catch a glimpse of Natalie. This is the first fight she's come to since we were both kids, and I have to take pride in that, show her what I'm made of.
I change up my movements at the end of the round and land a strike square in the middle of Rage’s nose. He stumbles back, and the ref calls the round in my favor. Everything starts to pick up, and I feel my strength returning. I sip water and scan the arena for Frank.
There, on the side, sitting next to Rage's trainer. Fuck. Fuck. I see him slip the man some money, and... I don't know what the fuck is coming next. There's no way to rig a fight like this, not unless the trainer knows something that no one else knows, not unless Rage is a fucking powerhouse and he's been holding back on me on purpose.
The bell rings for the final round. One of us will land this victory. The only thing I can do is keep my mind clear of Frank and everything he stands for.
Natalie is sitting in the audience. She has the papers. And this time, they're copied. Right about now, they should be sent via email to both the Currituck and Dare County police units. Frank might not go down tonight, but the information is there. It's und
eniable. And Frank has too much pride to run away from a fight like this. The police will know exactly where he is. Even if this battle is lost, that one is won.
The bell sounds. Rage looks over at his trainer, who's stalking back and forth beside the cage. The trainer nods at him, but I have to block out every pang of anxiety, every bit of fear that this fight might not be the professional experience I'd thought it was.
Long Shot: An MMA Stepbrother Romance Page 22