Isaak: The Counterpunch Series Book 1

by K J Ellis

  Isaak

  The Counterpunch Series Book One

  By

  K.J. Ellis

  Copyright

  Isaak

  Published by K.J Ellis

  Copyright 2020 by K.J Ellis

  All rights reserved.

  ©

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, songs, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is coincidental.

  Written By- K.J Ellis

  Edits By - Eleanor-Lloyd-Jones at Shower Of Schmidt Editing

  Formatting By - Maria Lazarou at Obsessed By Books Designs

  Cover By- Eleanor-Lloyd-Jones at Shower Of Schmidt Designs

  All rights reserved in accordance with the Copyright and Related Rights Act 2000.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or copied in any way.

  Dedication

  This might sound very cliché, but as it’s my first novel I wanted to dedicate it to myself but most importantly, my son Logan Ellis, or as we call him in our house, Logy Bear.

  I love you millions and trillions, forever and always,

  Mummy xx

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost, I want to thank my son and my partner.

  I’ve given up so much of my free time for this book that you both no doubt felt left out and for that, I’m truly sorry.

  Logan, thank you for being an extremely well-behaved boy for me when Mummy was ‘working’ as you now call it. I promise I will make it up to you. I love you all the world, around the moon, the stars and back again.

  Adam, I love you with all my heart, till the end of time and will continue to do so after that.

  Maria, for formatting Isaak. Your formatting skills are second to none. You’ve done an amazing job; I couldn’t be happier with the outcome. Thank you. You make me proud to call you a close friend.

  Eleanor, for taking every idea I threw at you and my God there were a fair few. You created exactly what I wanted with this cover. I love it. You’re amazing and one hell of a talented lady. I’m looking forward to seeing what else we can create together in the future. You’re a bloody star, especially for putting up with me. Not only that but your editing skills are spot on. Thank you.

  My book bitch, Emma freaking Lloyd. You, girl, have been my absolute rock through this. No matter the time, day, or night, you’ve always been there, whether it be to kick my arse, encourage me to get those words down or just to listen to my ideas. The amount of times I’ve had you read through my work is crazy; no doubt you know this book far better than I do. Your continued support doesn’t go unnoticed, but most importantly, your friendship. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Sienna Grant, AKA Fannyflaps. I’m lost for words when it comes to you. You supported me from day one of meeting you, and I’m honoured to call you one of my closest friends. Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me. Thank you for everything. You’re a rough diamond with a big fucking heart. I love you lots like Vodka jelly shots.

  Jennah Thornhill, AKA Mofo. You, girl, mean the absolute world to me. We’ve been through so much together, and if it weren’t for you coming to me with the crazy idea that you wanted to start writing, I wouldn’t be writing a single word of this now. Thank you for trusting me from the beginning of your journey as an author and for continuing to let me do so to this day. You inspire me without even knowing it. You drive me bat shit crazy, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. I love ya mofo, you know why? Cause we’re connected :P

  My beta tarts, Tracy Wood, Nikki Young, Fiona Jones, Joy Westerfield, Carrie-Anne Zurcher and Rachel Crossland Parker. Each and every one of you have helped me so much to make this book what it is today. I appreciate the time you all took out of your days to read for me. Thank you

  My ARC Team. You all know who you are. Thank you for your kind and motivating words, whether they were in a written review or in a message. It means the world to me that you enjoyed reading my book. Thank you so much.

  And last but by no means least, to you, my readers. Thank you for taking a chance on me and my debut book. I hope you enjoy Isaak as much as I did writing him.

  xx

  Blurb

  Fear is a weakness; fear is how the mighty fall. In my world, you don’t get anywhere without an ego, and mine is bigger than most. I’m a cocky, arrogant son-of-a-bitch who men wanna fight and women wanna fuck. Fight nights are what I live for: I train hard and fight harder. I’m Isaak ‘The Bruiser’ Brookes, the undefeated champion, and I fear nothing. That is until Alexander Jenkins takes me down, shocking me and the entire boxing nation. I’m determined to get straight back in the ring with him to show him that there is only one Bruiser, but I am forced to take a break—to get fit.

  Sassy-mouthed physiotherapist, Remme Rivers—with a body made for sin—helps me to regain my strength, saving me from myself, and suddenly I am scared to death for the first time in my life.

  I now live in fear that I will lose her before I get to claim her as mine.

  Prologue

  Isaak

  2nd June, Fight Night

  Round nine

  I've been knocking ten bells of shit out of this fighter, but he keeps coming back for more. I've lost count of how many times I’ve put him down on his arse and he's hit the canvas, but just like the spring on the padded floor of this boxing ring, he bounces back up to his feet. He's matching every blow I lay on him and then some. We're both unsteady on our feet, but the referee lets us carry on.

  I sit in my corner after the bell has rung, ending the ninth round, a wet towel being wiped across my face. What was once a crisp, white towel is now covered in red filth, and the fact that my cut man, Bruce, is applying a heavy amount of Vaseline to my eyebrow after pressing the ice cold, metal iron compress on my cuts, tells me all I need to know.

  With adrenaline running through my veins, nothing hurts, only my pride. Don't get me wrong, I've taken a few blows before—every fighter does. I'm human after all, not a machine.

  What I am, is the best Middleweight Champion and the reigning champion for two years now.

  I've fought the best.

  Beaten the best.

  Fuck, I am the best.

  I took the fight with Alexander Jenkins because I wanted the challenge. He was shouting his mouth off to the media saying he would be able to take my belts with ease—that he was a better and more skilled fighter. I need to prove him wrong.

  So, I accepted the challenge.

  He's slimy and vindictive. He's a good boxer, but he fights dirty, extremely dirty, which, I'm finding out now.

  We're fighting in my hometown, London. The crowd is fully behind me, supporting me. I have the absolute best fans—fans that are currently ridiculing him and shouting shit in his direction. It just seems to rile him up more, like he gets a kick out of hearing the abuse being thrown at him.

  The sound of voices in my ear brings my mind back into focus.

  “Keep your gloves up, Isaak, and protect your face. You have three rounds left. He's not going to give up without a real fight, but his arms are dropping, so when you see an opening, take it,” Vinny, my corner man and trainer explains.

  I nod, letting him know I've taken in what he's saying and get my head back into the game.

  The bell dings, letting us know our time is up and the tenth round is about to get on the way.

  “You've got this mate: one round at a time, like you always do,” I just about hear Owen, my best mate and sparring partner say. He gives my shoulder a tap and retakes his seat in
the front row next to my manager, Kenny.

  That's when I spot Shantel.

  What the fuck is she doing here?

  I swear to God that girl can't take a fucking hint. Either that or she really is a brainless, dumb blonde. I shake my head. I haven't got time to question her motives: I have a fight to win.

  Getting my head back on straight, I jump up off the stool, bouncing around on the balls of my feet, looking across at Alexander with hatred.

  How the fuck he's still standing after everything I've thrown at him, I'll never know. Most fighters I've fought in the past would have thrown the towel in by now, or I would have won by knockout.

  Clearly, I'm off my A game.

  The bell rings again, letting us know we're off and round ten is good to go.

  We touch gloves, or rather punch gloves, before we start to pivot back and forth on our feet again.

  “Is this the best you've got, Isaak? You're weaker than I thought,” Alexander manages to say to me through his gum shield. Then he makes a swing at me.

  I lean back on my feet and dodge out of the way. His glove skims past, just millimetres away from my face. I pivot on my feet, pulling my arm back, and then swiftly swing it forward, using whatever energy I have left in the tank. Delivering one of my signature brutal punches, it lands perfectly on his ribs.

  I'm known for having one of the hardest punches and longest reach. I'm stunned with shock when he doesn't even finch.

  What the fuck?

  I look up to Alexander. He's still wearing the same smirk on his face as before. He's showing no signs of discomfort from the blow he's just received from me—not even in the slightest. No shortness of breath, no signs that I've winded him, when there should be.

  I thought I was wearing him down—he was getting sloppy, not protecting his face at all—or was it him just being cocky and letting me think that?

  I lose focus for a split second, wondering if he's made of steel, and just as I right myself up to go at him full throttle, I see his red, blood-soaked glove coming straight at me, giving me no time to be able to duck or weave out of the way. I know what's coming next, and there's not a single thing I can do about it except prepare myself for the inevitable. I can just about make out the crowd willing me to do something, anything, but it's pointless. It's like everything around me—myself included—is moving in slow motion and then I hear his voice. A voice I now detest with every fibre in me.

  “You're nothing, Isaak.”

  I growl out loud, full of useless frustration and then feel myself free falling. I land on the canvas with an almighty thud. I find myself looking across to my team, all of them in shock. Just like me.

  As my eyes close, a dark shadow appears that I can’t make out, but it soon disappears again.

  “Dad?” I mumble through my mouth guard, but the next thing I know I’m seeing stars.

  “Dad?” I see the look he's giving me when my whole body is in the doorway of his office, and my shoulders sag at the disappointment on his face—disappointment aimed at me.

  Crap.

  I’d forgotten to wait after I knocked. I’d just walked straight in.

  “I'll call you back.”

  It's only then I notice that he is on the phone.

  “Isaak, what have I told you about entering before you're told to?” He takes a deep breath before gesturing for me to come over to him.

  “I'm sorry, Dad. I promise next time I'll do better,” I tell him as I make my way across the room and over to his desk, now feeling sorry for myself.

  He sits in the black leather recliner, grabbing me under my armpits and sitting me down gently on top of his knee. “It's okay, son. What are you doing wide awake?” he asks me as he ruffles the hair on top of my head, just like he does every time he sees me.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I had a nightmare.” I duck my head down in embarrassment.

  He lifts my head back up so I have no choice but to look at him. “Hey, everyone is afraid of something, son.” His stern voice is now replaced with a softer tone.

  “What are you scared of, Dad?”

  “There’s not a lot that I’m scared of, Isaak, but I fear letting you down and worry that one day you’ll be disappointed in me. I’ve already lost your mother; I don’t want to lose you, too.”

  I see the sadness on his face, but that doesn’t stop me slipping out my next question. “How come Mum doesn’t live with us anymore?” I shudder at the fearful look on my father’s face.

  “Isaak, you’re too young to understand what it means to be an adult, but one day you’ll know what it’s like. You will have to make an almost impossible decision for the people you love. That is what your mother and I had to do.”

  I bob my head up and down, even though I still don’t get what he’s saying. “I miss her, Dad.” A single tear falls, but I wipe it away on the sleeves on my pyjama top, just as quickly as it appeared.

  “Me too, son. Me too. But you’ll see her tomorrow. It is your birthday after all. She never misses your big day, does she?” He gives me a small smile, making me grin up goofy at him.

  “I’m gonna be nine tomorrow, Dad,” I sing at him.

  “You are indeed. You’re growing up way too fast for my liking, son.” He places a soft kiss on the top of my head. “Now, off to bed. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner it will be morning,” he adds.

  Nodding my head again, I walk around his desk and make my way to the office door. Turning around I see he's still looking at me. “Night, Dad. Love you millions.”

  “And I you. Goodnight my little bruiser.”

  Mum never did turn up the next day.

  Chapter One

  Isaak

  Waking up in the hospital certainly wasn't what I’d had in mind when I’d chosen to fight Alexander. Two days I’ve been lying in this bed with nothing to do but count my fingers and toes. When I’ve done that I start again and again and again…

  I’m bored shitless, and I’m slowly but surely turning into a raging lunatic.

  I can’t even remember what happened. Well, I can. I’m in the hospital; that says it all. I can remember landing a half-decent body shot to Alex's rib cage and then after that… nothing.

  I've only been awake for a few hours today, but it's been long enough for Vinny, Bruce, and Kenny to tell me what went down.

  I lost the fight; my belts and I lost the right to be called the Middleweight Champion. I gave it away to none other than Alexander fucking Jenkins.

  Did I underestimate him?

  Was I really that far off my game?

  Fuck knows, but the prick caused more damage than my team had originally thought he would. They seem to think that Alexander may have cheated in some way or another, even though they can't prove it just yet. My manager, Kenny, knows a hell of a lot of people in the boxing industry, and there's word going around that Alexander took some kind of supplement to enhance his strength and speed, going undetected and enabling him to pass the final drugs test. Fuck knows how, but someone isn't doing their job correctly for it to go unnoticed. For that reason alone, as soon as I get out of here, I'll make sure Alexander and champion are never put in the same sentence again—once I win my belts back of course.

  “The doctor should be in soon to tell us the extent of your injuries from the tests you had on Saturday night, Isaak. We will go from there. Okay?” I hear Vinny say from the corner of the private room I found myself in when I finally did wake up.

  I give him a slight nod of my head, still unable to do much. Merely trying to lift or move my head hurts. I ache all over; the pain is horrendous. My whole-body fucking hurts, and I just wanna go back to sleep and pretend that this giant nightmare never happened.

  All of a sudden, the door to the room swings open and things go from bad to fucking unpleasant.

  “Omg, baby, are you okay?” I hear her screech. Seriously, how can a woman's voice be so galling and irritating? What is she even doing
here? I haven't got the energy to deal with her right now.

  Turning my head, I catch sight of Owen, giving him 'the look'. He knows what I'm getting at without me having to physically voice it. Thank God.

  “Look, Shantel, he's just woken up. The pissing Doc hasn't even been back to see him yet. Give the guy a break. He isn’t exactly in the mood to deal with your shit right now.” He marches over to her.

  “Owen, stop being such a dick and move out of my way. I haven’t seen Isaak since before the fight on Saturday night. Well now it’s Monday morning and I’m tired of waiting and I can make him feel better with my...” She doesn't get to finish what we all know was about to leave her mouth.

  “That's enough. Now, out, Shantel.” She's cautiously dragged out of the room by Owen, followed by the door shutting in her face.

  “I'll make sure a nurse knows not to let her in again,” I hear Vinny whisper.

  I'm so thankful the guys are all here: I don't know what I'd do or how I'd cope with Shantel on my own. Shit, she'd try and ride my dick while I was lying here unable to stop her. I shudder at the thought. Owen and the team know how I’m trying to distance myself from her, but she clearly isn’t getting the message.

  With Shantel now gone, Vinny and Owen are back, and after what feels like an hour of idle chit chat from the guys—myself not so much—I'm trying to cope with the aches and pains I'm currently sporting when the doctor finally appears.

  “Tell us some good news, doc,” Owen and Kenny ask him at the same time, as he walks around everyone, coming to a standstill at the end of my ever-so-uncomfortable bed.

  “How are you feeling, Isaak?”

  I don't give him an answer, so he carries on. “As your team is fully aware, we ran some tests when you came into us on Saturday night, and I have the results of them. I have some good news, and unfortunately I also have some bad news.” The doctor goes on to explain my injuries.