Bantamweight

by Tricia Andersen

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  Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,

  Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona

  www.hartwoodpublishing.com

  Bantamweight

  Copyright © 2019 by Tricia Andersen

  Digital Release: February 2019

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Bantamweight by Tricia Andersen

  Abraham Hallow would do just about anything to get out from under his oldest brother, Josiah’s, thumb. That includes performing as the Luchador in the local semi-professional wrestling circuit. He gets more than he bargained for when he hooks up with a woman with multicolored hair. The draw to her is undeniable. He wakes up the following morning with the ancient mark of his ancestors, mating him to the mystery woman he met the night before.

  It was a simple mission—find the infamous Hallow brothers, kill them, and bring back the amulet. Kai’s plans get derailed after one night of hot, crazy sex with a mask wrestler. When she finds out the wrestler was none other than Abraham Hallow, the youngest of the Hallow brothers, she is exiled from the mermaid kingdom. Yet the orders from her king still stand. Can she deny her ever-growing love for Abraham, or will she fulfill her duties of killing him?

  Dedication

  To Ursla and Sara—thank you for bringing all my universes to others and being such incredible friends. Oh, and for letting me bring storms to the store on almost a weekly basis.

  Chapter One

  The place was a fucking madhouse. And that probably wasn’t a good thing.

  Abraham Hallow peeked around the curtain that separated the arena from the back corridor. The seats were almost filled. He was sure he saw a few sets of fangs. His brand new sister-in-law, Sarah, was the main event. With the amount of bloodsuckers in the place, they were more than likely stepping into an ambush.

  He focused his gaze on the six-sided chain-link structure in the middle of the floor. He knew Josiah, his oldest brother and Sarah’s mate and husband, brought him for backup in the event they had to fight the undead to get out of there.

  Little did Joe know, Abraham had other plans.

  He fought himself to stay still as a crew worker stormed past him, waving the clipboard in his hand. By the way he shouted, the headset covering his ears must have blocked out his hearing. “Where the hell is the Luchador? Has anyone seen the Luchador?”

  Another member of the crew stopped him dead in his tracks. He used the six inches he had on the guy with the clipboard to snap the earpiece off his ear. “He checked in earlier tonight, mask and all.”

  “Then where is he? He’s up first against Franco.”

  The two men hurried off, grumbling to each other, unaware of Abraham against the curtain. Once they disappeared, he scooped up the duffle at his feet. “Showtime.”

  He strode through the corridors until he reached the men’s room. Granted, there was a locker room set aside for the Luchador. But it was with four other guys, all of which he knew. He couldn’t risk anyone finding out. The snitches would rat him out to his brothers. Then the fun would end.

  He chose the largest stall possible, and dropped the duffle onto the floor. He shed his clothes as fast as he could. He sucked his breath in as he slipped his cup into his compression shorts and adjusted it. There was no reason to put the boys in jeopardy. He tugged on his full-length spats and glossy long-sleeved rash guard. He shoved his street clothes into the bag just before he pulled his mask over his face.

  Abraham barely made it out of the restroom before someone grabbed his arm. He looked down at headset guy who was still waving the clipboard like a lunatic.

  “Where have you been?” the worker demanded. “The show is about to start.”

  Abraham opened his mouth and closed it. The accent. He had to speak with the accent. “Leed de way.”

  He let go a sigh as he followed the guy to the arena. The accent wasn’t Hispanic. It wasn’t even close. It was more like bad Chef Boyardee. Maybe he was better off keeping his mouth shut before someone figured him out.

  He was the legendary Luchador.

  He was also Abraham Hallow, the youngest of the infamous Hallow brothers.

  Life was interesting, to say the least.

  He stood behind the guy with the headset as the lights dimmed. The announcer took to the ring to make his announcements. When he began as the Luchador, he wrestled professionally for a small-time production out of Duluth. It was just like those on television, except significantly smaller. He’d only been doing it for six months. The guy who ran it, Harry, was funny, fair, and open-minded. He was also the only one who knew Abraham’s true identity. He wanted in the worst way to advertise that he had a Hallow wrestling for him, but Abraham begged him not to. Maybe when they weren’t fighting vampires and fuck knows what else, maybe when Josiah would let up on his tyrannical reign over Abe and stop treating him as if he were six and he would have some big reveal in the ring.

  Until then, the Luchador would be the next big thing in wrestling that hit Northern Minnesota.

  His invitation to fight tonight came out of the blue. He knew mixed martial arts like he knew how to breathe. It was instinctive, primal. He had to hold back his kickboxing while in the wrestling ring. He had no problem with fighting that night.

  Except Rock and Cort, the vampires who now ran the production, had extended the invitation to the Luchador. They had no idea he was Abraham Hallow.

  Or did they? They knew Sarah was Josiah’s mate before the couple had told anyone but the family. They were using her as bait against him to get the amulet Momma Hallow possessed.

  Abraham shook the thought out of his head. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that. He had a job to do. Get in the cage, beat his opponent senseless, and secure the win. Easy peasy.

  His eyes opened wide as a muscle-bound fighter strode past him to the beat of a rap song. He was surrounded by a half dozen guys wearing black hooded sweatshirts that covered their heads and faces. How the guy weighed in a half pound over the bantamweight limit was beyond him. He looked much smaller the night before on the stage when they faced off. Did he put on ten pounds of muscle overnight?

  Maybe not so easy peasy, after all.

  There was a brief moment of silence before a peppy Mexican song echoed off the arena walls. He stashed his duffle in the folds of the curtain, and hopped off the ball of his toes as he stormed to the chain-link structure. He hated the song. Harry had picked it. It was the only thing Harry ever did that he disagreed with. He used the rage of his hatred to fuel him. He passed screaming fans as he made his way to the officials by himself. He had no corners. In professional wrestling, he didn’t need them. And now, who would he ask? His brothers?

  He was better off alone.

  The official looked almost baffled when Abraham stopped before him fully dressed in his wrestling uniform. He shook himself to his senses, and patted Abraham down over the garb. Once Abraham gave h
im a toothy grin to show the mouth guard in his mouth, the official waved him into the cage. Abraham gave him a low bow.

  Abraham hopped up the steps, and looked back to the curtain. He half expected to find it empty. Deep in his heart, he hoped he’d see his brothers.

  He let go a small smile. One was enough. Ezekiel stood next to it, his strong, muscular arms crossed over his chest. He could always rely on the big goofball even if Zeke had no idea it was him. He gave his brother a brief nod, and stepped inside the steel structure and jogged to his corner.

  The announcer strode to the center to introduce the fighters. “In the blue corner, from Bloomington, Minnesota, let’s hear it for Roy Franco.”

  There was applause. Abraham grinned smugly. In a minute, the walls would shake.

  “And in the red corner,” the announcer continued. “From south of the border but residing in Duluth, give it up for the Luchador.”

  As he predicted, the roar from the crowd was deafening. He raised his hand and bowed low. He straightened himself in time to see the referee motion him to the center of the ring for instructions. Abraham tuned him out as he glared at Franco. He knew the rules. It wasn’t his first rodeo. The two fighters bumped fists when he was finished and retreated to their corners. The referee looked from Franco to Abraham and dropped his raised hand. “Fight.”

  The whole battle lasted less than one round. Franco expected a professional wrestler, one of those characters who overacted his next move. Abraham gave him the bait and sunk his knee immediately for a takedown. Franco squared up to keep from hitting the mat. Abraham scrambled back to his feet and dropped into his stance.

  Before Franco could throw a punch, Abraham shot out a blistering leg kick. Then another. And another. A bruise was already starting to bloom. Franco tried to put weight on it but couldn’t.

  Abraham dropped his knee and took Franco to the mat. He climbed on top of his opponent and rained down punches on him. Franco blocked the first few, but the last one knocked him out cold.

  The referee dragged Abraham off him to check on the wounded fighter. He trotted back to his corner and leaned against the chain link as the referee and officials revived his opponent.

  It was easy peasy, after all.

  Franco blinked his eyes opened, confused, and staggered to his feet as his corners rushed into the cage. The referee motioned Abraham back to him and grasped each fighter’s wrist. As the announcer broadcasted the winner, Abraham’s arm was raised in victory. He grinned at the crowd. This was the life. He was fighting. He was adored by his fans.

  Josiah could shove it up his ass.

  The officials ushered him out of the structure to make his way back to the locker rooms. When he passed through the curtain, he found the corridors backstage far busier than they had been. People slapped him on the back, congratulating him. He could have sworn one was Ezekiel. Some shoved their hands in his face to shake his. He felt fingers tug at his mask to loosen it.

  It was time to get out. He wove his arms wildly while he squeezed his thighs together. It didn’t take long for someone to get the message. A hand pointed down the hall.

  “The john is that way, dude,” a voice instructed.

  “Gracias,” Abraham muttered as he scampered down the hall. He snatched up his bag hidden in the curtain and made a beeline for the restroom. He locked himself in the largest stall and changed quickly. Then he waited. He was the only one in there. He couldn’t let anyone put two and two together. He counted the door as it opened and closed four times. The urinal flushed twice. The sink was flipped on only once. Abraham cringed. Some dumbass was out there touching things after handling his cock without washing. That was just gross.

  He didn’t know how much time passed before he escaped the confines of the men’s room. It wasn’t too long. He still held a sheen of sweat on his skin. He beamed in pride as he strode down the hall.

  That was until he ran into his oldest brother. Josiah’s scowl told Abraham that he was about to get his ass chewed.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Josiah demanded.

  “Language,” Abraham taunted with a smirk.

  “Sarah’s not around, dumbass. So don’t push me. Where the fuck have you been?”

  “Watching. Geez. For the love of fuck, calm down.”

  “Abraham Tiberius Hallow, when will you get it through your thick skull? We are all in danger. There are things out there that want to kill us and the people we love. Someday you’ll get that there’s more to this world than yourself. And you’re out running around, chasing some poser who wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

  “If you want me to stop running off, give me something to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Get me a fight.”

  “Oh, hell no. Not happening.”

  “Why not? You guys fight.”

  “I don’t fight. And neither are you. So drop it.”

  Abraham wasn’t going to listen to another word. He shoved past the oldest Hallow and stormed off to Sarah’s locker room as he muttered under his breath. “Fucker.”

  Josiah had no idea what he was talking about. Abraham knew the risks. He knew the vampires were after them and the amulet. Grandpa Atticus, their paternal grandfather, and his pack were after them too.

  And who the hell was Joe talking about that would be more important? Abraham was barely twenty-one. He just cleared the drinking age. He sure as hell wasn’t anywhere near mating. Right now, the only one he had to care about was himself. His mother had his brothers. Most of his brothers had their mates. Zeke and Josh? Well, they had each other.

  Abraham was more than happy to be the lone wolf. He was certainly sick of being the runt of the litter, the one told what to do and how to live his life. It was about time for his family to let him grow up.

  He slumped against the wall across from Sarah’s locker room just in time to notice that Josiah was on his heels the entire time. He watched as his oldest brother knocked on his mate’s door. Abraham chuckled. It earned a cold glare from Josiah before he slipped inside the door. When had Joe become whipped? Was that what happened when they became bound to their mates for eternity?

  Abraham nodded. Yep, he was better off alone. He already answered to too many people as is.

  He turned as he heard a body hit the wall next to him. He couldn’t help but return the goofy grin Ezekiel offered him. “What’s up, little bro?”

  “I’m the only one you can say that to,” Abraham replied.

  “I know. I fully intend to say it as often as I can. So, did you see the Luchador?”

  “Hells to the yeah. I had a front row seat.” So to speak.

  “He made quick work of his opponent. Looked pretty slick.”

  Abraham cocked a grin at Ezekiel. “That he did.”

  “Maybe the next time you sneak off to watch him wrestle, you can take me along. Josiah won’t jump down your throat near as much if you have me to chaperone.”

  Abraham bristled a bit. He hoped Ezekiel didn’t notice. “We’ll have to see. I don’t know when he wrestles next.”

  “Dude, even I know how big he’s getting around these parts. Everyone is talking about him. I’m sure he’ll wrestle again soon. I bet that guy gets more ass than all of us combined.”

  Abraham sighed as he tried to remember the last time he had sex with someone other than himself. It had been with that beauty from Littlefoot’s reservation. There had been a couple of girls he got cozy with there. Fortunately, his brothers had only busted him with one. “Don’t count on it,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “I’m sure you’re right. Lots of ass. The groupies who hang around at those shows are insane.”

  They both turned as they heard boot steps shuffling toward them. “I doubt that loser gets any ass,” Caleb, the middle brother of the Hallows, commented. Behind him stood Samuel and Joshua. “Who the fuck would want to bang someone who constantly wears a mask? He’s probably dog ugly underneath.”

  Abr
aham felt his skin flush hot as his temper rose. “Shut the fuck up, Cay.”

  Caleb grinned at him. “I take that back. Abe probably fucks him. No one is that crazy of a fan unless they’re getting something on the side.”

  Abraham launched himself off the wall toward Caleb. He threw a punch as he lunged at his brother. “Shut the fuck up, Cay.”

  His arm was caught in midair before it struck Caleb. He spun to see Micah, the second oldest, behind him with a firm grip on him. Samuel had already yanked Caleb out of the way. Micah pulled Abraham back and gave him a glare of warning before he stepped inside Sarah’s locker room.

  Samuel scowled at Caleb. “Not cool, asshole. It doesn’t matter who Abe likes, romantic or not. It’s none of your business.”

  Caleb pulled free and shrugged. “I’m just giving him shit. He’s my little brother.”

  “And you’re mine. Don’t dish it out unless you’re prepared to take it.”

  The locker room door opened before Caleb could respond. Sarah, Josiah, Micah, and Littlefoot, the best friend of the Hallows’ late father, strode out in the direction of the cage. Samuel veered off to the section of the arena where his mates, Henry and Delilah, were seated.

  Sam had the hardest job of them all. Henry was the embodiment of an ancient evil magic called the Heka. The vampires had already killed a bunch of people to get possession of the Heka. The Heka could give them power over the entire world.

  It was like setting a juicy T-bone steak in a den of lions. Except in their case, the steak had a UVA flashlight and a deep-seated fear of the bloodsuckers.

  The youngest four Hallows stopped at the curtain as Sarah, Josiah, Micah, and Littlefoot continued on to the steel structure that Abraham had been in earlier. Joshua glanced at each of them. “Got your flashlights?”

  Caleb and Ezekiel pulled theirs from the back pockets of their jeans. Abraham slapped each pocket before he unzipped the duffle and rummaged through it. It took a few moments for him to produce his.