“OK,” Mitch said. “One last fight. When?”
“Oh, man. The when isn’t as important as the who.”
“OK, who?”
“Why, the Golden Boy himself, of course.”
Mitch sucked in a breath. “Fuck off. Yates never fights for you.”
“Not until now… and he actually came to me personally and requested that I set it up with you.” Kirk’s blue eyes were cold. “I said yes, of course.”
“Before talking to me?”
Kirk opened his huge hands, a look of innocence on his scarred face. “I figured you’d jump at the chance.”
“Why?”
“Because, man. I am offering you the opportunity to beat the living hell out of the fucker who beat up and tried to rape your girl.”
Mitch froze.
“Yeah, I know all about that. I thought you’d be down on your fucking knees thanking me for bringing this offer to you.” He smirked. “Think about it, Corrigan: no rules, no refs, no limits. You can do whatever the hell you want to Yates, and nobody’s gonna stop you. Of course, he can do the same thing to you, so I guess either one of you could end up dead. Or maybe both of you.”
**
“Where will this happen?” Reena’s face was pale but her eyes were determined. “I want to be there when you fight him.”
“No, Reena. No way.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m going to need all my focus, sugar. If I know you’re there somewhere, I’ll be thinking about you, worrying about you. Distracted.” He touched her cheek. “And I can’t be distracted, believe me.”
“Why would you be worried about me?”
Mitch paused. “Because… because it’s going to be fucking brutal.”
“Well, yeah. It’s kickboxing. I’ve seen you walk in the door after your matches, so I know you’re going to get hurt.” She tried to smile. “I’m not going to enjoy watching you get hit, but I think I’ll be able to handle it. I know what’s going to happen.”
He shook his head. “No, you don’t. This is – different.”
“Different how?”
He sighed. “This isn’t an official fight, babe. No rules, nobody to call it off if things get too rough. More than that, it’s – it’s a grudge match. It’s personal. And that means that it’s going to get as ugly as it possibly can. If you’re there, I may feel like I have to hold back, to protect you from seeing me at my worst. But Simon’s going to come after me hard, and I’m going to have to do more than just defend myself. I’m going to have to give back as good as I get – and then I have to go farther.”
A chill passed over her skin. “How far?”
His green eyes were hard. “As far as it takes for him to lose. I’m going to do whatever I have to do to beat Simon and I don’t want you to be there for that.” He took her hand. “If you saw that side of me, Reena, I just couldn’t face you, knowing you’d seen me do those kinds of things to someone.”
“What kinds of things?”
Mitch was silent.
“Are you – would you…”
“I have no intention of killing him, babe,” Mitch said quietly. “But I will get as close to it as I have to, if I have to, to make him stop.”
She stared at him, fear stamped across her face.
“Are you saying that he… that he intends to kill you?”
“I don’t know,” Mitch said in all honesty. “But I do know he’ll hurt me as bad as he can to make me lie down and quit. I have to make sure that doesn’t happen, you understand? And I know you’re going to be scared to death sitting here not knowing what’s going on and I’m sorry for that. But I’m asking you to please stay home.”
He held her eyes, willing her to understand. And she did understand, far better than he knew. She knew full well what he was really saying.
“You’re not telling me everything, Mitch.”
“What do you mean?”
“You think I’d be afraid of you after.” There were tears in her eyes now. “You think that if I saw you so… so violent and brutal, that I’d be scared of you. Don’t you?”
He dropped his gaze.
“Don’t you?” Her voice was quiet. “Mitch?”
“I don’t want you to see me like that, Reena. I’m trying to protect you from watching me descend to that level, to some… fucking primal place. I think that if you saw me go there, you’d be too afraid of me to ever let me near you again.” He raised his eyes and she saw that he was telling her the complete truth now. “I think that it would change how you feel about me. And that fucking terrifies me, babe.”
“I’d never be afraid of you,” she said. “No matter what you did. I know you’d never hurt me, not ever. I love you.”
He closed his eyes at her words, knowing that if she kept fighting him on this, he was going to cave and let her come, and it would be all over between them then. These past few days and nights with her – every day and night since that amazing Saturday in his bed – had been hands-down the sweetest, hottest, most loving time in his whole damn hard, violent life. But if she saw him let that side of his nature loose, he’d never be able to look in to those eyes or touch that body ever again. So he tried one last time, knowing that the future of their relationship was riding on her answer.
“Please, sugar. I love you and I’m begging you. Please stay home tomorrow night.”
Reena saw the sorrow on his face and she knew that if she went to the fight the next night, it would break something between them, maybe permanently. Her throat closed up too tight for her to talk, to protest. To argue. So she did all that she could do, the only thing to be done: Reena took his hand and nodded in agreement.
**
Mitch sat on the stool, staring across the concrete floor at Simon. He was gratified to see that the fucker looked about as bad as Mitch felt.
They were just going in to round three, and Mitch couldn’t believe the amount of damage they had inflicted on each other after just six minutes of fighting: to the delight of the howling, jostling crowd, both men were hitting harder than he ever thought possible. His hands were already swollen and burning under the tape and it barely helped that Nick was holding the chilled enswell against his knuckles.
Adam leaned over him now, holding a cotton swab liberally soaked in epinephrine to stop the bleeding around Mitch’s eye and on his temple. “How you doing?”
“Good.” He blinked. “How am I looking, cutman?”
Adam grinned briefly. “Yeah, you do know that cutmen usually have way more medical training that an ex-boxer, right? I’m still not sure that I was your best choice for this job, Corrigan.”
“I didn’t want anyone else here with me.”
Adam shook his head. “Goddamnit, man.”
Nick had been watching Simon quietly and he spoke up now. “He’s on something.”
Adam and Mitch stared at him.
“You sure?” Mitch asked.
“One hundred percent. My guess? Coke.”
Mitch groaned. Normally, Kirk would have shut the whole fight down; he didn’t like his fighters to go in to the ring stoned or jacked up. But tonight’s match was too hot and big to forfeit on, so Mitch guessed Kirk was turning a blind eye to the drugs and staying focused on the payday.
“Oh, fuck,” Adam said. “So he’s not feeling much pain, huh? That explains why he barely flinches when you pound his face in.”
“OK, so.” Mitch took a deep breath. “I have to do something so bad, he won’t be able to fucking get up even if he can’t feel it. I’ll have to break his leg.”
“Yeah,” Nick said without any hesitation. “And even then he might not notice and want to carry on. But it’ll be up to his people to pull him out then, if his judgment is that impaired.”
“Shit. I didn’t want to go that far.”
“I know.” Adam spread Avitene on to Mitch’s cuts to coagulate the blood. “Do it anyway.”
The bell rang and both men got to their feet again. Mit
ch had barely taken a breath when Simon exploded towards him and he instinctively stepped forward to meet him. It was immediately clear that Simon was changing tactics now – the first two rounds had been all about punches, but he came out kicking, aiming for Mitch’s midsection. He obviously wanted to get Mitch down on the floor, gasping for air.
He blocked Simon’s volley of kicks, remembering from practice sessions that despite being right-handed, Simon led with his left leg and he was damn accurate. The fucker landed two good kicks on his right side, and Mitch felt a burst of pain.
Fuck. My ribs.
Simon knew that Mitch was hurt; he’d felt the bones give and shift under his shin. He grinned and redoubled his efforts on his right side, but Mitch turned sharply and grabbed Simon’s leg in both hands. He yanked and twisted, using his hips and shoulders and Simon crashed down to the floor. Mitch was on top of him right away; he grabbed Simon by the back of his neck and smashed his head down once, twice, three times, then he let up a bit, hoping that Simon was knocked out.
“You fucker,” Simon spat, blood running down his nose and off his chin. Mitch didn’t see even one bit of pain on his face.
Mitch smashed his head a fourth time, just wanting the guy to give up and tap out, but no such luck. Simon’s elbow rammed back in to Mitch’s throat and now Mitch was struggling for breath. It was only a few seconds, but it was all that Simon needed to turn and haul back with his leg. His kick caught Mitch directly in his broken ribs and he sprawled out on the floor, in agony. His lungs refused to inflate, and he knew that one was punctured.
Shit. I have to break his leg or I’m dead.
The thought scared him bad enough that he rolled on pure instinct, and Simon just missed a direct kick to the back of Mitch’s head. Simon roared and jumped on Mitch’s back, wrapping his huge arms around his neck and hauling Mitch down to the ground again.
Mitch gripped Simon’s forearms, trying to get them to move even one inch off his throat so he could get some air. Impossible, though; Simon had a firm grip and like a boa constrictor, he was only increasing the pressure. Mitch’s windpipe was totally closed and his vision began to go dark around the edges from the lack of oxygen. Nick and Adam were on their knees across from him, shouting, but he couldn’t make out a word they were saying.
Simon leaned forward and whispered in Mitch’s ear, “Four, seven, oh, two, nine.”
The numbers swam around in Mitch’s darkening mind. Why do they sound so familiar? What are they?
Simon’s hot, excited breath was on his cheek now; it was almost a caress. “Your front door code, Corrigan. After I choke you out and stomp on your fucking head, I’m going to go over to your place and visit Reena. Finish what I started, and bring a few friends with me. The next time you see that bitch’s face, she’ll look like a goddamn Picasso. All in pieces and every color under the sun. Oh, and of course, her cunt will be ripped wide open. That’s a given, right?”
Reena’s face appeared in front of Mitch now and a surge of love just washed over him as he realized that his reasons for fighting Simon had completely changed. It wasn’t for Mitch to get out from under Kirk’s thumb; it wasn’t about any lingering doubts that Al may have about Bridget’s debt being settled; it wasn’t even about revenge for Simon hurting Reena. Not anymore. What he was really doing in this fucking warehouse at midnight, rolling around on a cement floor, was all about getting Simon to stay the fuck away from Reena forever. Mitch was there to deliver a message and keep her safe. And right now, he was fucking it all up.
You’re not going to fail her, Corrigan. You’re not going to let this fucker touch her, ever again. Get on your feet. Now.
Mitch’s brute strength came to his rescue now. He took his hands off Simon’s crushing forearms and leaned forward, placing his clenched hands on the floor. Thinking that Mitch was passing out, Simon moved down and forward with him, shifting his weight. That was the only opening that Mitch needed: when Simon loosened his grip slightly to adjust to his new position, Mitch braced himself on his fists and threw his whole body weight back. Simon tumbled and Mitch landed on top of him.
Mitch flipped over quickly, got to his feet. Ignoring the dizziness, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side and his lungs, Mitch raised his right foot and brought it down hard on Simon’s extended left shin. Simon howled and Mitch did it again. This time, he heard something snap and he knew that he’d probably just ended the man’s pro kickboxing career.
He grabbed Simon by the back of the neck, ignoring his wails of pain. Mitch stuck his face in Simon's, his eyes burning with rage and hatred. “Consider your leg a message, Yates, just a friendly warning,” Mitch said in a low, furious voice. “You stay the fuck away from Reena. If anybody – you or any of your friends – so much as touches her, I’ll fucking break all your necks. We clear?”
Just then the bell went.
Mitch staggered over to Nick and Adam and collapsed on to the stool. He couldn’t breathe anymore and he prayed with every fibre of his being that he’d done enough damage to Simon to have ended it. He didn’t think he could take one more second of the fight.
He closed his eyes, not even feeling Adam’s and Nick’s hands on his face or side. All he could think about was Reena and how much he wanted to touch her.
**
Reena saw Nick’s number come up in her call display and she jumped on her cell.
“Nick?”
“He’s OK, Reena,” Nick said without preamble. “It’s all over. He won, and we’re on our way to the hospital now.”
She pulled in a breath. “Can I talk to him?”
Nick paused. “He’s unconscious, hon.”
“Oh, my God.”
The other women got to their feet in alarm at her voice and the look on her face, and Reena made calming motions with her hands.
“How bad is it, Nick?”
“You want me to tell you over the phone?”
“Yes. I want to know what to expect when I get there.”
“OK.” Nick sighed. “At least four ribs are broken. I’m not sure about his lungs – Adam thinks one may be punctured by a broken rib.”
Reena gasped.
“He was making sense when we talked to him, but he’s pretty beat up, Reena. Lots of stitches to his head, I think, and probably a few to his face. And his hands are a wreck. He – he was hitting Simon pretty hard.”
“And it’s really all over? Mitch is – he’s out?”
“The last thing Mitch did before he passed out was walk over to Kirk and demand exactly that. The man agreed in front of about seventy witnesses. It’s over, Reena, once and for all.”
She closed her eyes. “Thank God.”
“I know. OK, we’re at the E.R. now and we have to get him inside. Get here as soon as you can.”
“Take care of him for me until I get there,” she said.
“You know it, hon. See you soon.”
She disconnected and looked at her friends. They were already standing by the door, and Mia had Reena’s jean jacket in her hands.
“Let’s go,” Reena said. “Our impossible men are waiting for us.”
Chapter Nine
Two days later, Reena came home from a day of meetings at three different art galleries and then shopping. She stood for a minute, trying to recall the new door code that Mitch had insisted from his hospital bed that she set, then she punched it in. She opened the door, precariously juggling two bags of groceries with her laptop bag and a cup of takeaway coffee.
From behind her, large hands appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the groceries. She gave a small scream and turned.
“Shhhh. It’s OK, sugar. It’s me.”
Mitch was standing there in the hallway. She stared at him, took in the bruising and damage on his cheek, the stitches on his temple.
“What are you doing here?” she said. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital for two more days!”
He smiled. “And I’m happy to see you, too.”
“But�
��”
“Hush, babe. Let’s get inside and we’ll talk, OK?”
She followed him in, torn between being thrilled to see him and worried about him not being in the hospital. Mitch deposited the groceries on the kitchen counter, then he came back in to the living room and sank on to the sofa with a sigh.
Reena sat next to him. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah.”
She studied his face. “You’re lying to me, Mitch.”
“OK, OK.” He held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Sore, still, and I will be for a while.”
“So why are you here, then?”
“Because you have your meeting with the lawyers tomorrow to take things to the next level and I want to be there for it.”
She groaned. “Oh, God. Mitch. I told you not to worry about it, that the girls are going to be with me. I’ll be fine.”
He shook his head. “No way. I’m coming with you.”
She sighed. “No way to convince you otherwise?”
“None.” He held out his arms to her. “Now. Can I get a hug?”
Reena moved closer to him gingerly. “But, your ribs…”
“They’re OK, babe. Come here.”
She slid her arms around him carefully; through his t-shirt she could feel the thick bandage wrapped around his ribs. She laid her head on his chest and he stroked her long hair gently. It did feel amazingly good to be held by him again. Her body had craved his for the two nights they’d been apart. Of course, the first night had been spent in a hospital, waiting for news and then holding Mitch’s hand as he lay sleeping and drugged to the eyeballs.
“How are your hands?” she asked, remembering how they had looked that night.
He stretched them in front of her, flexed and made a fist. “Way better. I figure I can get back to some light training at The Rock in about a week.”
She raised her head. “Really? So soon?”
“I heal fast. I’ve had lots of practice.”
“I think that’s way too soon. Doctor Innis said four weeks before light training and seven for the intensive, and I agree with him.”
Fighting Love Page 11