by Leddy Harper
“You said tonight isn’t a real fight, that it’s just some kid wanting to prove himself. I don’t understand that. Why fight if it’s not for real? And what do you mean by him proving himself? To who?”
“When someone wants to be picked up by a ring, they do one of two things. You either go to the team owner directly and hope they take you, or you set up what’s called a bid. It’s more or less like an application. From there, you go into the ring and fight. You don’t get to pick your opponent; that’s all chosen for you. The team owners come to watch—like scouting for sports in school. After the fight, if they want you in their ring, they bid on you.”
“And then you can choose which team you want?”
His chuckle was soft and airy, but I heard it loud and clear. “No, Lee,” he said with a bite of arrogance that made me want to end the call right then and there. “It’s a bid, which means whoever bids the highest gets the fighter.”
“Wait…you mean like money?”
“Yes. It becomes the fighter’s sign-on bonus, I guess you could say.”
“You make this sound so legit, Josh.” I knew enough to know it wasn’t. Legal, maybe—probably through loopholes. But definitely not legitimate. This may have been a business, but to a lot of people, it was a business for thugs.
“That’s because it is. Say whatever you want, but these fights are regulated.”
“Not by the Better Business Bureau.” I shook my head, knowing I was seconds away from pissing him off. And I didn’t want to do that while on my way to see him. It was bad enough he’d gotten mad when I went home to see my parents. It’d taken an entire day to get him to answer my calls, and I didn’t want to start that all over again. “I’m just trying to understand why grown men would want to beat the shit out of each other. It would make sense if it was for a reason, like this guy stole from you or did something to make you angry, but he didn’t. This guy wants a job—clearly—but instead of going and applying somewhere, he walks into a ring prepared to shed blood.”
“You make it sound so violent.”
“It is, Josh!” My fingers tightened around the steering wheel and my knuckles turned white against the black leather. I inhaled deeply to steady my voice before I continued. “I guess I just won’t ever understand why you do this.”
“Babe…fighting has been going on for centuries. This isn’t a new sport.”
“It’s not a sport. I don’t get how you can call it that.”
“We train, we compete, we win and lose…it’s a sport. I want you to understand it, because I want to share this part of my life with you. I love it when you show up to support me. I feel like a god when you’re there watching me from the other side of the ropes.”
“I know…I like being there, too. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to become an argument. It’s just all so new to me. I’m trying to grasp it so I can support you. It’s just hard when I can’t comprehend why someone would be willing to get their nose broken for a few dollars.”
His laugh filtered through the speakers again, this time softer, not at all condescending. “It’s more than a few dollars, babe. The good ones will be around for a few years, and as long as they don’t blow their money too fast, they could live off their earnings for a while. Then there are the greats…the ones who inflict more injuries than they get. They last longer, and most of the time, are set for life when they walk out of the ring for the last time. Dalton—my team owner and coach—was a great.”
I smiled, thinking of Josh and the power he had behind his punches. “Which one are you?”
“Me? Babe, you should know that answer. I’m a great. I want to own my own team one day. Take this sport to a whole new level. And I will. Just watch. Which is why I need you to be completely on board, because you’ll be by my side when I do it.”
Butterflies erupted in my belly at his sentiment. We may not have been together for very long, but Josh always spoke like we were serious and headed toward a lasting future together. Considering I hadn’t dated anyone since I was seventeen, it did something to me. Filled me with excitement and hope.
“Well, I’m just sorry I can’t be there for you tonight. The traffic is clearing up and I’m finally able to drive with my cruise control set, but I doubt I’ll make it there before it’s over. Especially with the way you’re talking like it’ll only last a few minutes. I’m interested to see how this bidding war happens.”
A smile hugged his voice when he said, “That all happens after it’s over. It’s done in private. The fighter won’t know until way later which ring he’s in, or if he’s picked at all. Half the time, no one will take him.”
“How did you do it? Did they bid on you?”
“Nah. I met Dalton in the gym. He told me about his ring, so I went one night to check it out. It was right after he’d started his own team. The place was crowded—people exchanging money left and right, the air stagnant, the smell of sweat permeating the muggy room. It was like I found where I belonged. I started asking him questions, and before I knew it, he’d signed me on his team.”
“But isn’t it better to go for a bid? To make more money?”
“It can be. Most of the time it is. But for me, I knew I’d go farther with Dalton than I would if I took my chances with anyone else. He was smart…didn’t bid high, and only took the best. Which means come tournament time, his share of the stakes is higher. The more champs he has in his ring, the higher the price tag for winnings. So on top of my personal share for my individual fights, I also get a team cut. Everyone does. You want to be on the winning team, Lee. That’s where you’ll make your money. Not the starting payout.”
“I think I get it now.” The more he talked about it and the more I watched him fight, I’d eventually understand how it all worked. As long as I could wrap my mind around beating someone up for money.
“Listen, babe, I have to go. Dalton wants to talk to me first. Call me when you make it into town and I’ll tell you where I’m at. I want to see you. I’ve missed you.”
It put a smile on my lips. “I’ve missed you, too. I’ll see you in less than two hours.”
The call ended, leaving me with the silence in the car and the hum from my tires on the road. I took the time to think about everything my parents said while I visited them over the weekend. They wanted me to move back to Tennessee. It had always been the plan. Finish college, get my degree, and come home.
But I couldn’t.
Even being there this weekend shook my foundation to the core. Smithsville was nothing but a reminder of the things I’d lost. Even though Elise didn’t live next door anymore, hadn’t in years, it didn’t stop me from thinking of him. I’d spent five years wondering where he went, what he was doing, and why he never came back for me. Instead of leaving right after high school, I’d waited around all summer, hoping he’d return. It’d been our plan since we were kids. But he never surfaced.
It’d taken me years to finally open up to someone else. It wasn’t like I’d kept myself available for Killian all that time. The ache he left me with was so wide, so deep, so unrepairable, it took that long for me to heal enough to move on. I knew he wasn’t coming back—hell, I knew that before I left for Baltimore in the first place. So my reasons for holding back had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me.
Then one day, I ran into Josh. Literally. The traffic light had turned green and the car in front of me had started to go. I glanced down for a split second to change the radio station, and when I looked back up, I saw brake lights. Closer than they were before. It was a slight fender bender, but it’d shaken me up. I couldn’t stop the quakes that’d taken over my body as I pulled myself from the car and met the driver between his trunk and my hood. I hadn’t even looked at him, couldn’t, my attention glued to the cracked plastic bumper.
His arm wound around my shoulder and I fell against his hard, ripped, brick wall of a chest. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about my car. It can be fixed. How are you? Are you hurt?” Hi
s soothing voice blanketed the sounds of the road around us, muffling them, and effectively calmed me down some. “C’mon, you don’t need to be in the middle of the road. It’s too dangerous. Let’s pull into that parking lot over there.”
I’d nodded and then got back into my car before nervously following him to an empty building on the side of the road. That was when I finally looked at him, took him all in. He was beautiful in a rugged sort of way. His hair was short, which reminded me of a businessman, yet nothing else about him did. The sleeves of his T-shirt had been cut off and his workout shorts hung below his knees. He had a fading bruise to the side of one eye and a jagged scar along the bridge of his nose that hadn’t healed flush with his skin.
Beautiful and rugged.
Thoughts of that day and the ones that followed kept me busy on my drive back. Really, Josh was the only reason I hadn’t moved home after I graduated a month ago. We weren’t serious enough for me to stay in Baltimore permanently, but we were still too new for me to up and move eight hours away. The new plan was to give it a few more months to see what kind of future we could have before making a final decision. In the meantime, I’d stay in my tiny apartment and keep my job at the children’s home.
When I arrived, I pressed his name on my phone and listened as it rang through the car. When it hit the third ring, I figured he was busy and wouldn’t answer. Then someone picked up. Not Josh, though. “Lee? Where are you?” There were only two people who called me that: Josh and Dalton. I knew which one it was by the scratchy, smoker’s voice.
“I just got into town. Where’s Josh? Is everything okay?”
“He won’t leave the back room. He’s been in there for ten minutes. Already broke a table and punched a hole in the door.”
“That doesn’t sound good. What happened?”
“Happy happened.”
I waited for more, but he didn’t give me anything. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“The kid he fought tonight, his name’s Happy. Josh wasn’t prepared for him. Hell, I wasn’t prepared for him. He’s fucking sick…like in the head. Looked like he was ready to tear into Josh and leave him for dead. Size wise, they were evenly matched, but…damn, Lee, I don’t know. I don’t know where it went wrong. Josh didn’t stand a chance.”
“Is he hurt?”
“Yeah, he’s pretty banged up. But more than that, he’s pissed. He’s only gone down once in the two years he’s been doing this, and that was at the beginning. Granted, he didn’t go down without a fight, but it wasn’t pretty. I don’t think this Happy kid bled at all. How long till you get here?”
“Ten minutes, at the most. I’m on my way. Tell him I’m coming.”
“Will do.” And then the line went dead.
I pushed the speed limit, keeping my eyes out for cops while my mind twisted with thoughts of Josh hurt. Other than practices and training, he’d only been in six fights since we’d started dating—well, since he told me about what he did for a living. I’d seen him cut, bleeding, and bruised a few times, but never had I seen him hurt.
I had no idea what I was about to walk into.
I opened the heavily tinted door to a dark and quiet gym. I could see the boxing ring beneath the spotlights, but other than that, everything seemed empty. The back room where Josh had holed himself up in was on the far side, and I had my sights trained on the hallway while I made my way through the empty space.
As I stepped closer to the ring, more into the light, someone stood up from the pullout, bleacher-type seating. The large man, tall and wide, muscles twined with more muscles escaping the cut-off sleeves of his shirt, caught my attention when I glanced over. His chest was broad, the shirt pulled tight, highlighting every line of his form. My pace slowed and he stood completely still, which offered me a chance to take him all in.
With him standing in the shadows, I couldn’t decipher the color of his hair, but I could tell it was pulled back into a sloppy bun and his face was lined with hair the same shade. His brows were pulled together so tight I could barely see his eyes. They squinted as he stared at me. I’d never seen him before, but with the unadulterated hatred embedded in his every feature, I assumed he had to be Happy.
I turned away and quickened my pace toward the hallway. I didn’t want to be alone with him. He didn’t look like someone you’d want to hold a conversation with. When I reached the door to the back room, I peered over my shoulder one last time. Other than his head, now turned toward me, he hadn’t budged an inch.
I wrapped my hand around the door handle and twisted it a quarter of a turn, but then stopped. My sight remained locked on the angry man in the shadows, and my heart practically stopped. The fear that had kick-started my anxiety evaporated, and the backs of my eyes burned with the uncontrollable need to cry.
It couldn’t be.
It was impossible.
His head tilted slightly to the side.
And I knew.
My grip on the handle loosened and my knees grew weak. I angled my body toward him, but before I could move, the door swung open, catching my attention. With wide eyes, I stared into the opening, finding Dalton standing in front of me.
“He needs you,” he said, and took a step back.
I glanced behind me to the bleachers again, but they were empty. He wasn’t there. It had to have been my imagination. I scoured the open space, but found no one. Finally, Dalton cleared his throat and grabbed my attention once again.
Behind him, on the padded table lined with paper—usually clean, but now covered in blood—was Josh. My feet carried me to him, although my heart stayed in the hallway. Lingered with the silent man in the shadows. The man who couldn’t have been there. Shouldn’t have been there.
“Oh my God,” I said with a gasp as I covered my gaping mouth with my fingers. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Josh took hold of my hips and dragged me closer to his battered body. His forehead fell to my chest; he didn’t care at all that my shirt would now be stained with his blood. “Just make me feel better. Calm me down, Lee.”
He appeared broken and weak, but his tone was harsh and angry. His hold on me grew tighter the longer I stood between his legs, almost to the point of causing me pain. In an effort to settle him down, I ran my fingers through his damp hair and waited for him to lift his head.
Despite the patched cuts, dried and fresh blood, and the discoloration I knew would be bruises by morning, his eyes shone bright like a midday sky, like the shallow waters in the Caribbean. They were stunning enough to lose myself in them, to forget all about the ghost in the gym.
“I’m here, Josh.”
Fifteen
Killian
I sat outside for almost an hour, watching, waiting.
Time stood still. It meant nothing. The numbers on the clock changed, morphed into the next, but it was nothing more than a digit to me. I’d somehow gone back in time while slowly drifting through empty space. I recognized her the second she’d walked in, even without proper lighting, even with the changes in her appearance.
It didn’t matter how long it’d been, I knew her.
My heart knew her.
I could’ve been deaf, dumb, and blind, and I still would’ve recognized her.
Finally, the agonizing wait came to an end. The door opened and she marched out. She appeared to be mad. Her head was down, and from what I could see, she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. The thought of her in tears made me murderous. She’d gone back to the room to see him. And now…she was crying.
I wanted to kick his ass all over again.
Make him bleed more.
And not stop when I was told to.
Seeing her walk through the gym fucked with my head. I hadn’t expected her to be there. She shouldn’t have been there. For a moment, I didn’t think she’d recognized me. But then she turned around, and even from across the room, I could see the awareness in her eyes. See it in her shoulders, her mouth…those lips. She knew.
So I waited for her to leave. To follow her.
It may not have been the right time, the right place, under the right circumstances, but I didn’t care. I may have kept my distance, but it wasn’t by choice. I’d stayed away out of determination. Hatred. The need to find my peace. I had to fight against going back every single day since I ran away. Not one day passed without her crossing my mind. I thought of her with every breath I took, every dream I’d woken up from in a pool of my own sweat. Every ounce of come milked from my dick was done with her on my brain.
Her.
It had always been her.
I stayed a safe distance behind her car as she unknowingly led me to her house. I had no idea what I was about to get myself into, but I didn’t really care. I couldn’t exactly turn my back on her after seeing her for the first time in five years. It was sooner than I anticipated, and her seeing me at the gym fucked everything up. But again, I lacked the ability to ignore her.
I’d walked away once before.
I’d never be able to do it again.
After she parked along the side of the one-way street, I found a space several cars away and waited. I saw which building she entered, but I couldn’t pull myself together just yet. I needed an extra minute. Needed to figure out how I’d approach her. One minute had turned into fifteen, and before I knew it, I was practically beating down her door. What I’d meant to be a normal knock turned into an impatient, thundering pound with my fist.
It opened slowly, and as if time stood still, there she was.
Rylee Anderson.
Her brown eyes—darker than I remembered—were wide, her mouth agape. Her hair draped over her shoulders, silky and shiny. Straight. None of the curl I’d spent years twisting around my finger. Her white tank top hugged her body and more than alluded to the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. Pert, beaded nipples peaked the ribbed fabric over her heaving chest. Black cotton shorts fit her new curves like a glove, and I wanted nothing more than to see her bare.