by S. Nelson
“Then why haven’t I been fully patched in yet?”
“Time, brother. Give it time. You know Marek doesn’t just patch someone in because they think they’re due. But I promise it’ll happen.” I knew Stone couldn’t guarantee such things, but I appreciated his faith in me, and in our leader. “Now,” he said, “as far as a woman goes, you have your pick. What’s wrong? I see the way all these chicks throw themselves at you, panting for your dick.” He laughed, but I didn’t find it funny.
I know, I know—poor young, good-looking guy. Pussy all around, wantin’ to fuck me. I get it.
I just . . . I just want something more.
“It’s not what I’m interested in anymore. I want what you guys have.” Right then, Sully and Marek came strolling outside, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist as they approached. I couldn’t help it; my eyes instantly latched on to hers, and while she gave me a quick smile, she looked away just as fast. And thankfully, so did I. Focusing back on Stone was my safest bet.
I thought Marek was gonna say something to us, but all he did was nod at Stone and give me a quick scowl before leading his wife toward his bike. They were gone before I registered that Stone had started talking again.
“ . . . so you just have to wait until the time is right.” I completely missed what he’d said, the lost look on my face telling him everything. “You didn’t hear a word of that, did you?”
“Sorry, man. My mind is firing off in all different directions.”
“I said”—he took a deep breath—“you’ll find someone to settle down with when the time’s right.” He slapped me on the back. “Besides, aren’t you a bit young to be thinking about getting married and having kids?”
The look on my face was comical, I was sure. “What the fuck? I’m not looking to get married and start breeding,” I practically shouted, then lowered my voice. “I just want to have some kind of connection with someone, in addition to sexual.” A cocky grin spread wide on my face. “I wanna be interested in fucking her and hearing what she has to say about stuff, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
Taking a few more steps, Stone gave me a quick look before straddling his bike. I walked toward my own ride, grabbing my helmet when my friend’s voice broke the silence. “About the fights,” he started. “Don’t worry about what could happen, Jagger. Just give it your all and everything else will fall into place.”
Jagger
Normally, the entire world dwindled away when I prepared for a fight. An unusual peace rained down over me, as if all my troubles had faded into obscurity, my only focus defeating my opponent.
It fueled me.
I craved it.
The adrenaline was my drug of choice, my shield against the world.
Sitting in one of the empty back rooms of the warehouse, however, all I could concentrate on was whether or not this fight would end up with another fatality. My internal warring weighed heavily on me, and right then I desperately prayed for a distraction. But the close confines of the tiny room offered nothing.
Thankfully, before I went out of my mind waiting to be summoned, Stone and Tripp strolled into the room, closing the door behind them so we could have some privacy before the bout.
“How ya feelin’?” Tripp asked, leaning against the wall while Stone sidled up next to me.
“Good.”
“You sure?” Stone asked, grabbing the wraps from the table and raising my fists. Normally I took care of wrapping my own hands, had been doing it since I started fighting, but that night I let Stone do it. I had a lot on my mind and could use his help with the simple, yet important task.
“Yeah,” I muttered. Not really having much else to say, I remained quiet, my pulse quickening with each tick of the clock. Each pass of the second hand was like a boom inside my head. Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes and tried to will my pounding heart to calm the fuck down.
Tightly grasping my shoulder, Stone leaned in close and calmly said, “You’ll be fine, brother. Stop freakin’ out.” While my demeanor was calm, my face expressionless, he knew exactly what was going on inside me without me saying so. He could read me better than I’d expected, but for some reason that didn’t shock me. Stone was very perceptive, although he tried to hide it most times—not wanting to get mixed up in other people’s drama, I was sure.
The click of the door startled me, my gaze flying toward whoever had entered the room. It was Marty, one of the organizers for the fight. He was in his late forties, a sorry excuse for a comb over covering the top of his head. He reminded me of someone who lived alone, eating a ton of microwavable dinners while watching Jeopardy! Ask me why I pictured him in that scenario and I’d tell you I had no idea. It just fit.
“Five minutes,” he announced, leaving the door open after he exited.
Before long I heard the announcer say my name. The floor beneath my feet vibrated, the excitement from the crowd undeniable. Their hype only served to unnerve me more than I already was, but I had to push past my apprehension if I was going to keep my undefeated status.
I was fighting Marcus Hill, an underground up-and-comer who had only lost one out of his last fifteen fights. Having done my own research, I’d been able to easily identify his weakness—his right shoulder, which was injured six months back. Since then, it popped out of its socket if twisted the wrong way. Or right way, depending on who was inflicting the damage.
Jumping up, I cracked my neck from side to side before throwing out a few shadow punches. Pushing out the breath I’d held hostage in my lungs, I locked eyes with Stone and Tripp before walking toward the door.
Here goes nuthin’.
Barreling my way through the crowd, my brothers tight on my heels, I focused on the guy already dancing around inside the ring. Never get distracted by the noise. It was a mantra I’d adopted from Stone. He’d yelled it at me a few times when we started sparring together, and it just stuck. It made total sense, and it always kept my attention on what was right in front of me, whether it was in the ring or handling club business.
Marcus hyped up the crowd, trying his hand at some fancy footwork and entertaining the audience until I approached. Once I was close enough, he stopped jumping around and turned fully toward me. Raising his arm, he pointed at me and shouted, “You’re dead.” I was surprised I heard him over the sound of everyone screaming. And the fact that he would use those exact words had me instantly furious. The fucker was going down hard—in and out, quick defeat. Then I’d escape and drown myself in a bottle of whatever would do the trick that evening.
Tripp grabbed the ropes and parted them enough for me to pass through, planting my feet directly in the corner while waiting for the fight to begin. Since I was involved in the underground fighting aspect of MMA, there weren’t many rules. Actually, there weren’t any rules to speak of, but I was sure it was frowned upon to kill someone during a fight.
Even in the absence of guidelines, the people who set up the bouts tried to pair the fighters as best they could, putting them in similar classes. Ours was the middleweight category, putting us both around a hundred and eighty-five pounds. Marcus and I were similar in stature, him only standing an inch shorter than my six-foot frame. While we were both lean, I was cut everywhere it counted. Marcus was in decent shape, although he carried a few extra pounds around his belly. It was in that added weight I would find more weakness.
I barely heard the ring announcer finish his speech, spouting off our names and fight histories, before it was time to put this guy on his ass and claim my prize money. Slowly approaching, we sidestepped each other, our gazes locked and ready for any unexpected moves. He was quick . . . but I was quicker. I kicked out and slammed the top of my foot into his ribs, making him stumble backward, a grimace instantly lighting up his face. Not taking a few seconds to compose himself before coming at me was his mistake. He should have thought about his next strategic move, but he was eager to show everyone what he could do.
Too eager.
>
And it was his downfall in the end.
Rushing toward me, he managed to land a blow to my side, but when he attempted to strike again, he missed as I danced away. While he staggered forward, I surprised him with a few rapid blows to the kidneys, knocking the breath from his body before he even realized he’d been hit.
While I normally reveled in the thrill of the fight, stretching out my time in the ring as long as possible because it was the only place I’d actually felt at home, that time was different. The fear of accidentally killing someone else drove me to distraction.
All I wanted to do was end the bout, lose myself to a few stiff drinks and possibly give in to one of the wannabes who’d been shamelessly throwing themselves at me. I could use a warm body for an hour or two.
Deciding enough was enough, I struck like a coiled snake. With a sudden right hook, I knocked Marcus flat on his back, dazed and confused. While he tried to right himself, I dropped to the mat, wrapped my legs around his body and captured his right arm, rotating it harshly in the wrong direction. As soon as I heard his shoulder pop out of place, I knew the fight was over.
With his free hand, he tapped the mat, signaling his submission.
I jumped to my feet and strode to my corner of the ring, waiting for my name to be announced as the winner. Stone and Tripp were there, huge smiles of pride on both their faces as they slapped my shoulder and shouted out congratulations, making me grin for a brief moment.
I turned toward the center of the ring to see what was going on. As soon as my eyes connected with Marcus’s, I sort of felt bad, but only for a brief moment. Anyone looking at him could tell he was in agony, one of his buddies trying to pop his shoulder back into place. Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t get off on going around hurting people. Yes, injuries—and apparently death—were all on the table as soon as we stepped into this ring, but that didn’t mean the smell of blood made me high. No, I honed my skill to the point that I was undefeated in this world, and all I wanted was to go against a worthy opponent. So far, I hadn’t had many.
Jerking my head toward Stone and Tripp after I’d been declared the winner, I silently communicated for them to follow me. All winnings were picked up in the back office, and while the door was guarded by two large buffoons, I wasn’t scared in the least. Knowing I could take them both out in five seconds flat hitched a swagger to my gait.
“Tripp, can you do me a favor and grab my bag from the room?” I asked before disappearing inside to grab my prize money.
“You got it,” he replied. “Be right back.” He disappeared while Stone stood outside, waiting for me to re-emerge. No one was allowed to accompany the fighters inside the office. They’d been robbed in the past, hence the two roided-out guys standing watch.
The purse that night amounted to fifteen thousand dollars, the most I’d won to date. I wasn’t stupid; I knew the result from my last fight upped the ante. At least something good had come out of it. Morbid way to look at the situation, but it was all I had.
Tripp walked toward us, my duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He threw it to me and I stuffed the envelope full of cash inside, zipped it back up and headed toward the exit. There were a few more fights scheduled for that evening, but I wasn’t stickin’ around. All I wanted to do was go back to the clubhouse to hopefully get drunk and get laid, in no particular order.
“At least we didn’t see any of those fuckin’ Reapers here tonight.”
“Yeah, one less thing we have to worry about right now, at least.” I had no idea who was saying what, Stone’s and Tripp’s voices melding together at some point. All I could focus on was getting out of there, the smell of piss, smoke and body odor more potent the longer I remained inside the confines of the old, dilapidated building.
Just as we were about to walk through the door and escape, a flurry of movement to my left caught my attention. Then I heard a panicked female voice saying something I couldn’t quite make out, but I knew enough to recognize that she was in some sort of trouble. There were throngs of people milling around all over the place, so I wasn’t quite sure why the hairs on the back of my neck bristled. Something warned me to stop and take notice, though. And the closer I stepped, pushing past some of the people blocking my view, the more amped up I became.
“Why won’t she look at me?” a gruff voice shouted. Shuffling closer, my brothers close on my heels, I could finally see what was happening. Initially, they’d been confused as to why I’d turned around, but as soon as they’d heard what I had, they’d followed me, ready to jump into action if necessary.
“Because she doesn’t want to have anything to do with you,” one of the women yelled back. “She hasn’t responded to any of your texts, so take the hint.” A spitfire with shoulder-length blonde hair stood toe to toe with none other than Marcus Hill, challenging him as best she could. Physically she was no match, but that didn’t stop her.
I caught bits and pieces of their argument, realizing she wasn’t fighting for herself, but for another person. But who? And where were they? Stepping so close I was standing directly behind the shouting female, my eyes wandered all over the place, trying to see everyone who was in close proximity.
“Well, I’m not goin’ anywhere until she at least lets me explain what happened,” Marcus threatened, his left hand gripping his right shoulder, pressing his fingertips into the swollen flesh. He still hadn’t seen me, too focused on arguing with the blonde.
Peering over the feisty woman’s shoulder, I finally saw another woman crouching in the corner, her head down and tilted to the side. All I could see of her was her long dark hair, strands that shielded her face from everyone there. Protecting her. Assessing her body language, I could tell she was frightened. The slight tremble of her shoulders infuriated me, bringing out a fierceness I’d only possessed while enthralled in one of my fights.
“If you don’t leave her alone right now, I’m calling the cops,” the blonde woman threatened, fisting her hands at her sides in an attempt to gain some semblance of control. Without knowing her, I instantly liked her. Anyone willing to stick up for someone else was okay in my book.
Marcus looked around at the numerous sets of eyes watching the situation unfold, angry he wasn’t getting what he wanted. When his gaze landed on me, the tick in his jaw told me my presence was about to make things worse. Not only had he been denied from talking to the dark-haired woman, but the victor of his fight was watching intently, ready to pounce if given the opportunity. I knew his shoulder was still throbbing and there was no way he wanted to tussle with me again, so he smartly decided to let it go.
“Fine,” he bit out. “She’s a freak anyway,” he emphasized, taking a step back. The dark-haired woman snapped her head up at his comment, and it was then I was able to finally see her. A shiver shot straight through me, an audible gasp forced from my mouth. An angelic face with the most entrancing caramel-colored eyes glared at Marcus before quickly connecting with the woman to her left, her features and expression in direct contrast to one another. Glancing back and forth between the both of them, I could tell there was some sort of relation. Sisters, maybe?
Stone and Tripp walked up beside me, watching with as much interest as I was. Marcus backed up another step after he’d seen all three of us standing side by side. He could act as tough as he wanted in front of two helpless females, but he knew I’d pound him into the middle of next week if he made a wrong move.
Before I could open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, the dark-haired female tugged on the other woman’s arm, raised her hands in the air and signed something to her. The blonde woman responded, signing back at a rapid pace. I had no clue what they were saying to each other, but I was fascinated by the scene unfolding in front of me.
Idiotically, I thought that I’d be able to identify a deaf person simply by looking at them, but I now knew how stupid that assumption was. Caught up in watching the two of them communicate with one another, it took my brain a few extra seconds to register wh
at Marcus had just said about the deaf woman.
I stepped forward and grabbed him by his throat, pushing him against the nearest wall. “Don’t you ever say that about her again,” I seethed. “You got it, Hill?” I said his name with disgust, shoving at his injured shoulder when he refused to answer me. Instead of words, a howl flew from his mouth, his body crumpling against the wall behind him.
When I deemed him no longer a threat, I released him and turned around, striding toward the two women. My gaze was fierce enough to deter anyone else from getting involved. The crowd who had initially been surrounding us dispersed, leaving only myself, Stone, Tripp and the two females remaining.
“Are you all right?” I asked both of them, not quite sure who to direct my question to. I knew she couldn’t hear me, but that didn’t stop me from flitting my attention to her as well.
“Yes, thank you,” the blonde woman replied, throwing her arm over the other woman’s shoulder and pulling her close.
“Do you want us to escort you and your friend outside? Just to make sure Marcus doesn’t try anything else?” I waited patiently for her to let me know what my next move was gonna be.
“My sister.”
“What?” I asked.
“She’s my sister. Kena. And my name is Braylen.”
Pointing to myself and then my buddies, I said, “Jagger, Stone and Tripp.” I was talking to both of them but I’d kept my eyes on Kena, watching her every reaction. Locking eyes with me, a small smile graced her full lips, and it was right then that I knew I was done for.
Changed forever.