Fatal Knockout (Knockout Series Book 1)

by Bailes, Julie

  Bronson turns and walks to his stool, and I begin to follow him. “Don’t do it, Blaze,” Dawson shouts. Declan follows with, “Don’t give him what he wants, Bro. Don’t you dare give him this victory.” But it isn’t his words that stop me, it’s hers. “Blaze, no! Get over to your corner.” I stop in my tracks and find my wife’s pleading blue eyes. I nod at her, go to my stool, and take out my mouth guard. “What was that all about?” Dawson asks, squirting water into my mouth for me to swish and spit. “You don’t want to know,” Declan answers for me. Dawson and Maddie know about Keisha’s past, but they don’t know the guy who got away is Cain. I lean forward on my elbows and stare at him. When his eyes meet mine, I mouth, “You’re finished.” He shoves his mouth guard in his mouth and says, “Bring it.”

  Cain is gassed when we begin the second round and he uses what little energy he has left prancing around the octagon. I don’t know how he finds the air to speak, but he does. Bouncing from one foot to the other, he pants, “Your piece of shit father owes mine money. Either pay up or that pretty blonde of yours will pay like your tight, little sister did.” Straightaway, rage consumes every fiber of my being and I attack. The spectators roar and chant my name, fueling the hot adrenaline pumping through my veins. I pummel him with a right and left uppercut, and then land a fierce right hook. Bronson’s neck jars with each blow I give, causing him to lose his footing and stumble backwards.

  Enraged, I follow his steps and bash my elbow into his right temple. Then, I take a step back, hold the sides of his head, and drive my right knee into his chin. The ruthless knee-to-chin collision causes Cain to become dazed and confused. He falls to the mat and I get onto his back and put him in an arm triangle. The referee pulls me off and sounds the bell, ending the round. When I stand and look down at Bronson, I see his eyebrow bleeding profusely. The swelling is intense and his eye is barely visible. He is delirious and unable to communicate with the ref and doc in any way. The fight is called and the medics are let inside the octagon. Hardheartedly, I stand with a satisfied grin and watch as Bronson is placed in a yellow backboard and transported to the hospital. Maybe I’m a monster for feeling this way, pitiless and merciless, but no one threatens the woman I live for.

  My heart lurches into my throat when I look over and see the seat where Maddie was sitting empty. It isn’t like her to disappear on me. She’s only sat in the crowd a couple of times, but she has never left her seat, not unless I motioned for her to join me inside the cage. Dawson must notice the fear in my face, because he jogs over and places his hands on my shoulders. “Where’s Madisyn?” I pant through clenched teeth. “Breathe, man. Mads is fine. Look,” he says, pointing to the empty seats surrounding hers. “Do you see any of your men over there? You know they wouldn’t let her leave alone.”

  Reminding myself that none of my guys would let any harm come to Maddie, I will the kicking in my chest to lighten and sit on my stool. Dawson places an ice pack on the back of my neck. “I’m her brother, Blaze. Do you think I’d let anything happen to her? I love her just as much as you do.” Respiring deeply to stabilize my breathing, I look at him and say, “No. No one loves her as much as I do, not even you.” I don’t wait for the announcer to announce my victory. I tell Dawson to deal with the commentators and I go back to find Maddie.

  My team is posted outside my dressing room door. “Thanks, fellas,” I curtly nod. Colt and Dave step aside and let me inside. They close the door behind me and I see Maddie at the sink splashing water on her face. I run to her side and pull several paper towels from the dispenser. “You scared me. You know that, right?” I dab the towels around her face to soak up the wetness. “What happened?” I toss the towels inside the trashcan and bring my hands up to hold the sides of her face. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just, my head has been aching most of the day and the crowd got too loud. And then, I got a whiff of someone’s non-deodorized pits and I—” she shudders. Then, she rests her face against my hand, inhales through her nose, and adds, “I had to leave. I’m sorry.”

  I caress the crests of her cheeks with my thumbs. “Don’t apologize. How do you feel now?” Taking a step forward, she circles her arms around to my back and presses the side of her face to my chest. “Better,” she answers. My fingers gently stoke her back. “You’re telling me the truth?” She looks up to me and says, “I’d never lie to you and you know it.” I lower my head to hers and snicker, “So you tell me.” Smiling, she softly and wittily retorts, “Yea, so I tell you.”

  I capture her lips and use my tongue to caress hers. “Don’t scare me like that again,” I breathe into her mouth. “I won’t. Not intentionally,” she kisses me. I shake my head and break our kiss. “There won’t be any unintentional scares, sweetheart. If you need me, you get me. I don’t care what I’m in the middle of doing, you have someone get inside that fence and get me. Never leave me wondering where you are.” I keep my voice low and firm, letting her know that I’m not upset, but my instructions aren’t debatable. “You worry too much about me.” She reaches for my lips, but I move them aside and whisper in her ear, “After all these years, you still don’t get it.” She turns her face and kisses my neck.

  “I get it, but—”

  “But nothing. You’re my heart, my soul. You are all that I am, Madisyn. When it comes to you, baby, too much isn’t enough.”

  Fourteen

  Madisyn

  “Maddie, you ready?” Blaze calls through the gym. “I’ll be there in just a second.” I finish typing one of my client’s training schedule and save it to my desktop. Logging off, I take my purse and let Declan know that I’m leaving. We have the first appointment after lunch and I don’t want to get stuck in afternoon traffic. I get in the car and buckle up. “Alright. Let’s go,” I say excitedly. “Hello to you, too, gorgeous.” He leans over the console and kisses me. “Hungry?” He hands me a bag from one of my most favorite restaurants. Of course, my nose smells as good as a hound dog’s and I don’t have to open the bag to know what’s inside. “Aw, babe,” I grin. “Caribbean pancakes?” He backs out of the parking spot and nods. Then, he reaches his hand over and rubs my stomach. “If he’s anything like his momma, he’ll love ‘em.” There he goes again, assuming we’re having another son. I don’t correct him, though. Nope, I’m too busy trying to stuff my face with banana and shredded coconut covered deliciousness.

  It takes us fifteen minutes to get to Dr. Marion’s office, and all of five minutes for me to scarf down my brunch. My stomach is stuffed and my bladder is full. And, the carbs I practically inhaled have baby Benson using my bladder as a trampoline. Thankfully, the nurse calls me back not long after I sign in. She hands me a disposable sheet to drape across my thighs and tells me to undress from the waist down. I do as she instructs and sit back in the chair. “I’m nervous,” I whisper to Blaze. “Don’t be,” he says, lifting and kissing the back of my hand.

  Three knocks sound at the door and in walks Dr. Marion. Her porcelain skin illuminates her beautiful, hazel eyes and her headful of red curls bounce with each step she takes. She looks amazing. And as my eyes travel down her body, I notice why. She has a small baby bump of her own. “Hello, Madisyn. Mr. Benson,” she greets, extending her hand to the both of us. “How didn’t I notice that before now?” I point to her belly. She looks down and laughs. “Well, I’m only a few weeks behind you. Must’ve been the water we drank,” she jests. “Oh, you drink Dasani, too?” I titter. “Indeed, I do,” she beamingly smiles and lowers the back of the chair. Then, she adjusts the stirrups and helps me to position my feet in them. “Today, I’m going to do a pelvic exam, measure your belly, and then we’re going to take a listen to your baby’s heartbeat. Are you ready?”

  “I’m ready,” I answer her, looking over to Blaze and squeezing his hand. Dr. Marion places herself between my legs and does her job. After she's finished, she discards her gloves and washes her hands. She removes a fetal monitor from her medical coat and squirts cool gel onto my stomach. Then, she
places the probe onto my stomach and moves around until she finds baby Benson’s galloping heart. Smiling, I gaze into Blaze’s glossy eyes. “Your little one has a good, strong heartbeat at 160 beats per minute.” Drying the gel from my belly, Dr. Marion uses her measuring tape and measures my belly, both horizontally and vertically. “Fabulous,” she sings.

  “Your measurements are consistent with your last ultrasound. You already had an ultrasound at the beginning of your pregnancy to confirm and get the expected date of delivery. And now that you’re in the middle of your second trimester, I’d like to get another one just to check on baby. Would you like to go down today or is there another day that works better for the two of you?” I look at Blaze and grin. “I’d like to get it today,” I tell her. She lifts the back of the chair and hands me a box of tissues. “Sounds good. I’ll have Karen call down and see what time they can work you in. Do either of you have any questions for me?”

  “I do,” Blaze speaks up. She averts her eyes to him and urges him to continue. “Should we be concerned? You were there when Maddie delivered our son. What are the possibilities of that happening, again?” Dr. Marion sits down on her stool, crosses her legs, and rests her chin on her fist. “Mr. Benson, 1 in 160 pregnancies will be a stillbirth. There’s always the possibility, but the chances of it happening again are slim. Madisyn’s last pregnancy was healthy. Usually, stillbirths result from placenta problems, certain birth defects, infections, and poor fetal growth due to a chronic health condition the mother has. Your son had a knot in his umbilical cord, which cut off his oxygen supply. What happened to him was rare. Umbilical cord accidents occur in less than 4% of stillbirths. While I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again, I can promise you that I’ll do whatever I can to prevent it,” she gives us her word. “What about work? Will you please tell him I’m okay to exercise?” Standing, she smiles and says, “Yes, exercise is fine, in moderation of course.”

  “I don’t think so,” Blaze argues. Dr. Marion scrunches her brows and looks to Blaze. “Why not?” He stands and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Dr. Marion, you know Madisyn trains professional MMA fighters, yeah? She needs restrictions.” She nods in agreement. “Her restrictions are the same as last time, Mr. Benson. She isn’t to spar with her clients or work with anything that could come in contact with her stomach, such as a boxing bag. I understand why you’re worried, but exercise is good for Madisyn and her pregnancy,” she explains. Looking to me, she pats my thigh and says, “I trust you to listen to your body, Madisyn. Don’t overwork yourself and don’t be afraid to take time off.” She shakes our hands goodbye and leaves me alone with an upset, 6’3” crazed beast.

  I stand up to dress and Blaze paces the floor. “I don’t care what that woman says, you aren’t working.” Rolling my eyes, I pull up my stretch pants and slip on my sandals. “You heard her, babe. Exercise is good for the pregnancy,” I shrug. “Yeah, Madisyn, but your work entails much more than exercising. And don’t shrug your shoulder at me,” he scowls. “What do you want me to do?” I huff. “I want you to let Declan and Dawson take care of your clients. We have enough money, Madisyn. We don’t need any extra,” he says, nonchalantly.

  “This isn’t about the money, Blaze. It’s about me not spending every waking moment counting our baby’s movements. When an hour goes by and I don’t feel any movement, I don’t want to sit around and wonder if our baby is dead or only sleeping. Can you try to understand that?” Lowering my head, I mumble, “All I want is to enjoy this while it lasts. Don’t I deserve it?” Suddenly, his hand makes a V around my chin and he tilts my head back. “Baby, I wasn’t trying to act like an ass. I just don’t want anything happening to you or our baby. If working makes you happy, then work, but I’ll be there every minute you are. You can continue to write out their meal plans and training schedules, but I’ll do mitts, bags, and sparing—everything physical. Deal?” Smiling, I lean up and kiss his lips. “Deal.”

  Fifteen

  Blaze

  “Would you like to know the sex of your baby?” Madisyn keeps her eyes on me and answers, “No, we want it to be a surprise.” The sonographer slathers gooey gel onto Maddie’s protruding belly and glides the wand all around. “Here we go,” she smiles. As soon as I see our baby on the screen, I lose my breath. “Holy crap… that’s our baby,” I say, amazed. Maddie squeezes my hands and whispers, “It is.” The technician shakes Maddie’s belly to give our baby a nudge. “Come on, wake up for us.” He doesn’t move. She points to the screen and says, “Here’s baby’s face, and right here,” she moves the wand a little, “is baby sucking his or her thumb.”

  “Aww, look, babe.” Maddie keeps her teary eyes on the screen. “I see,” I tell her, kissing her head. The sonographer continues getting all the measurements she can while our baby is still. “Here’s arm and elbow,” she points out. “Leg and knee.” She give Maddie’s belly another shake, and that’s it. Our baby turns over and moves like crazy. “There we go! Would you look at that bum,” she giggles, showing us our baby’s backside. “That’s definitely your butt,” I whisper in Maddie’s ear. Our baby moves to a position where she can measure his legs and show us his cute little baby toes. Lastly, she measure the blood flow and tells us everything looks great from her end. But before she finishes, I speak up and ask the question I know is on both mine and Madisyn’s minds. “What about the umbilical cord? How does it look?”

  Instead of ignoring my question and looking at me like I’m a worried, first time parent, she says, “Tell me what you’re concerned about and I’ll see if I can’t put your mind at ease.” Maddie squeezes my hand and mouths, “Thank you.” I wink at her and then look back to the screen. “Our first son had a knot in his umbilical cord and it cut off his oxygen supply. We were a couple days away from our due date when we found out he wasn’t…” A lump forms in my throat and my voice cracks. Thankfully, she gets where I’m going and tells us, “I’m going to tell you this off the record, being as I’m not a doctor, but I don’t see any abnormalities. You see, this red and blue shows blood flow and oxygen. Your baby is getting plenty of both.” Maddie and I blow out a breath at the same time and say, “Thank you.”

  ***

  My wife, God love her, made me a delicious birthday breakfast and kicked me out of the house. Apparently, Memaw and Maddie have guests coming over to help organize the blood drive for Bentley. While that may be true, I don’t believe her. Madisyn is all about surprises and I know she’s got something up her sleeve. Being as I cleared my schedule to spend time with my wife, who doesn’t want me around, I don’t have anywhere to go. So, where do I end up? The gym, my home away from home.

  I swipe my card and open the door to hear Avenged Sevenfold’s, This Means War, booming through the gym. As I walk to Maddie’s office, I see Dawson and Declan sparring, and it looks like Dec is giving him a run for his money. I drop my bag off in the office and begin wrapping my wrists. I do a few stretches and jump rope as I wait for the guys to finish up. When my muscles are warm and ready, I go over and let Dawson know I’m ready. “You ready?” I shout over the music. “Not until he taps,” he pants, holding Declan in a leg lock. “Dec, bro, just tap,” I tell him. “No way in hell,” he grunts.

  “Someone submit. I don’t care who, but someone better do it before I get in there and make you both tap out,” I warn. “Bring it on, Benson,” Dawson huffs. Before I’m able to step a foot inside the ring, Declan lets Dawson have it. Closely, I watch his technique and see if he does exactly how I taught him. And, he does. Declan turns his outside leg and flattens it to the mat. Then, he pushes up to his base with his knee away from Dawson so his opponent doesn’t reverse their position. Declan places his hands onto Dawson’s knees to bump and shake him off, and then donkey kicks out and gains top position. Declan rears back to strike Dawson and he submits. And just like a proud papa, I fist pump and shout, “Hell yeah!”

  There are very few fighters who can take Dawson down and make him tap, which is why so many com
e to him for their training. Declan dances around the octagon and Dawson like a ballerina. For Declan, this is a huge accomplishment and shows substantial improvement in his grappling technique. But instead of congratulating him, Dawson acts like a sore loser and says, “Live it up, son, because it sure won’t happen again.”

  Of course, Dawson makes it his goal to take his frustrations out on me, drilling me with intense mitt, pad, and bag intervals. “I’m finished,” I puff, throwing my mitts at his chest and walking away. “We aren’t done,” he calls behind me. We may not be, but I am. “I was done two hours ago. You got your ass kicked, man. It happens to the best of us. Accept it and move on,” I tell him. “Get your ass back here, Benson.” Not happening. I was supposed to be at the hospital an hour ago. Shaking my head, I hold up my middle finger and walk towards Maddie’s office to gather my things. “Screw you, Dawson. If I miss my chance to eat the cake I know your sister made for me, it’s your ass I’m kickin’. Let’s go.”

  Stuck in rush hour traffic, I call Maddie and let her know Dawson and I are running late. She tells me to take my time and that Bentley had a seizure. He has been resting most of the afternoon. By the time I arrive, I hope he’s rested and has enough energy to blow out my birthday candles, something he’s done with me since he turned one. After I hang up with Maddie, I turn the AC up to full blast and scan through the channels on my satellite radio. Out of nowhere, my cell rings.

  “What’s up, Dec?” I answer. “Dec? Guess again, son.” After all these years, his demonic voice still makes me apprehensive. “Where is he?” I growl. “Don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine. After all, it’s you they want, not him.” Who are they? “They?” He laughs. “Well, I sure as hell don’t want you, but I’ve gotten myself into some trouble—” I cut him off and seethe, “You listen to me, you sick shit… I don’t care what you’re in or who you’re in it with. I’m not helping you. You’re dead to me.” He acts as if I’ve shared a hilarious joke with him, laughing until he chokes. Once he’s finished hacking up a lung, he says to me, “No, you listen to me, you ungrateful piece of shit. You’ll be dead if you don’t pay these fuckers off and get them off my back.”