by HJ Bellus
Call it a sixth sense, but I had asked him to cancel the fight. At the time, he laughed it off and promptly shut me up with his superb bedroom skills.
The moment his towering frame flailed back on the mat, my heart ceased to beat. Blood poured from his face. It wasn’t the worst of it. Devil, known as Sinner, pounced on him. The gym had fallen silent. The cracking of Trick’s neck echoed off the walls. Everything else that happened was a blur. Boss rushed into the cage, raining hell down on Sinner. He gave him what he deserved, and even through all the criminal charges, Boss never backed down or made one single apology.
The endless nights in the hospital worrying about Trick’s vision and neck nearly killed me. It was Alice who kept me held together. Boss has never once regretted his choice, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt he’d do it again. That fact alone is a hard pill to swallow because he was stripped of his rights to coach. He still trains fighters at the gym, but Cruz has stepped into Boss’ shoes as head coach.
It’s ironic how college brought us together and pulled us through a nightmare. Trick had to spend a few months in the hospital after Sinner attacked him in the ring. I’d lie in his bed, and we’d get homework done. It was a bit tricky when I went to a few professors to ask for work to be completed online but left that up to momma bear Alice to get the job done. It took time, but we both have fancy diplomas that sit side by side on the fireplace mantel.
The day Trick was able to walk into the gym on his own was surreal. His brothers formed two lines, which he walked through. As he passed each one, they give him an encouraging slap on his back. It was the moment he saw his name in bold block print painted on the walls of the gym that he broke down. He didn’t even try to hide it. Trick let all the pain and remorse go. And you bet your sweet ass his brothers were there to pick him up.
Those same teal letters are painted in the calving barn. I had a local artist paint them right above the loft. It’s Trick’s legacy and one that deserves to be honored each day of our life. He’s my hero. The man saved me, and even though he’s not a fighter anymore, I see it in him every single day. He fights for love, family, and pride. There’s not one other man I’d stand beside for the rest of the days of my life.
After finishing out the semester, and once Trick was medically cleared, we came home. We never get the chance to miss our Diablo family since we see each other once a month, rotating who visits who. It hasn’t been easy on Trick. He misses training in the gym something terrible. It was his life for years. A handful of rowdy high school boys here in town magnetized to Trick, and in a natural chain reaction, he has been training them. They go in front of the school board next month in hopes of getting a boxing club started up again. Seems fitting since Trick’s dad was once the hero of that club. He may not have been the best to show his love to his only son, but his legacy lives strong and proud and will never die.
The pieces of the puzzle, whether they be jagged, tiny, or missing, have been laid in place for us. The transition was worth it, but it wasn’t an easy journey.
The purple petunias dance in the soft breeze. It brings a smile to my face. They were Gene’s favorite. Trick plants a bed of them every year to honor his memory. He passed in his sleep six months to the day after Trick’s dad died. Our world shifted, as did we with the changes. We stood steady by each other’s side through it all.
Layla joins us, taking a seat on the grass, giving both twins cherry red popsicles and a packet of candy. They squeal and plop in her lap.
“Dammit, Layla, that’s going to stain the ever-loving shit out of their outfits,” Sunni groans, trying to get the treats from the boys. She fails miserably.
“Paybacks.” Layla pops out the word.
We love to spoil the shit out of each other’s children. It’s our way. Jag started the tradition, and it’s not about to die off anytime soon. Jag has paid his dues time and time again. He’s been depantsed and overruled as a father courtesy of Layla. And until this day, she’s held being peed on by his twins over his head. The video hasn’t been exposed yet, but I can guarantee when it is, it will be in a big way. It’s quite entertaining. Trick and I are smart enough to keep our mouths shut, letting the two of them have at it.
“Keep your pecker in your pants,” Trick hollers, catching all our attention.
We all glance down to see Jag pissing in the weeds. “I’m in the wild. It’s what men do.”
“Alice, I’d apologize, but it’s worthless,” Boss says before tipping back his longneck.
Alice places her hand on Boss’ arm. “I’ve grown used to that one.”
“Oh, Mack, I forgot to tell you that Libby was busted for embezzling. She’s facing up to twenty years in the pen.” Alice grins wide.
“Are you kidding me?” I shout, startling Nicole.
“Nope.”
Libby has been a thorn in my side since we returned here. I’ve gotta give it to her; she doesn’t give up. This news doesn’t make me happy. Part of me feels sorry for Libby and her pathetic antics. The saddest part is this small town let her get away with it for years. She thought she was the queen. I’m slowly learning the ways of small towns and how corrupt they are.
My heart aches for her two children. I work closely with them through an afterschool program I started here in Idaho. It didn’t matter that they had parents in their life. We help all children from every different walk of life. They’ll need us even more after this, and we will be there for them.
My dream job of running a non-profit organization came true. With help from Trick’s inheritance and our hard work, we got up and running. Operation Yellow opened their doors nearly ten months ago. We serve the youth of the surrounding towns. It’s a safe place where children can go after school and on the weekends. They are always fed, loved, and have plenty of books to read.
Trick is a crowd favorite at Yellow. I say it’ll be just a handful of years before his own gym sits next to Yellow. He loves working with the young kids. He did get his degree in accounting but hasn’t used it. One night I asked if he regretted it, and his simple answer was, “Hell no.” Between the ranch and Yellow, our hearts are full and bodies exhausted at the end of the day.
“Is that the b who wants Trick?” Sunni asks.
“Bitch,” Dexter chirps.
“Yeah,” I get out with a giggle.
Boss and Alice get lost in their own conversation. Layla leans forward between the twins and whispers.
“I think my dad has a crush.”
I glance over to the two of them to notice Alice didn’t move her hand. “I think Alice is smitten.”
“We’d really be a crazy, screwed-up family,” Sunni adds.
The boys are covered in red, sticky liquid. Layla hops up and strips their clothes off and walks them down to the creek. I pass back Nicole and follow her. I stop at Belle and Trick.
“I think you’re ready, Belle. I’m going to hop on my horse.”
I hold the reins while Trick unties his horse. It will never get old watching my strong man hitch his boot in a stirrup and throw his leg over the saddle. He never wears a cowboy hat. It always a Diablo’s Throne ball cap.
“Here, sweetie.” I hand her the reins and make sure they’re adjusted. “I miss riding.”
Trick and I have spent hours riding in silence on the ranch. It’s my favorite part of life here.
“What are those two doing?” I point to Cruz and Jag.
“They’re going to finish drywalling the mud room.”
“You trust them?” I ask.
“My daddy is really good. Jag fifty-fifty,” Belle answers for him, shaking her hand side to side.
“What she said,” Trick responds with a sexy as hell smirk on his face.
“Have fun, you two. Keep an eye out for our dove.” I pat Trick’s leg.
He leans down. I reach up on my tiptoes. Trick catches my bottom lip with his teeth before he kisses the hell out of me. My knees weaken, and butterflies flutter low in my belly like the first time he kiss
ed me. The sensation will never grow old.
I force myself to pull back. Trick nudges his horse into a walk. Belle mirrors his actions. I shade my eyes from the setting sun. The bright ball of yellow sinks ever so slowly behind a mountaintop. Yellow. It used to be my only solace of safety. It’s still my favorite color and always will be. It’s no longer my crutch. I don’t need one. Trick and my family are now my foundation.
I was once a broken girl with no future.
Today I stand here a strong and brave woman who has a family who loves her and a perfect baby boy growing in my belly. I can’t say all my dreams came true, because I never had any. Life happened and took me along for the best ride. I spin my wedding ring on my finger and thank God for Trenton William Jameson.
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Acknowledgements
If you made it this far, then you’ve made it through Diablo’s Throne MMA. I truly hope you’ve fallen in love with these men. The community and family bonds will always be close to my heart. Over the years, I’ve learned one important lesson, and that is family isn’t always blood. It’s so much more. And that’s when you experience life.
I want to thank each and every person who has read this story. It’s your love and passion for reading that makes this possible. I’ll never be able to say thank you loud enough!
Stay tuned to the Diablo’s series. There may or may not be a fourth book…Yes, Boss’ book!
As Always Love,
HJB
About the Author
HJ Bellus is a small town girl who loves the art of storytelling. When not making readers laugh or cry, she's a part-time livestock wrangler that can be found in the middle of Idaho, shot gunning a beer while listening to some Miranda Lambert on her Beats and rocking out in her boots.
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