by Tiana Laveen
A man approached her suddenly, yanking her wrist.
“Hey, you can’t be in here.”
She shook herself loose and looked him up and down.
“Don’t you touch me. That’s my boyfriend.” She pointed at Hunter who was now back in the corner sitting on the chair with his trainer and manager hovering over him. “I’ll stand in the back, but I’m staying.”
“Leave her alone, Dotson,” another man said over all of the commotion. “She’s not hurtin’ anything.” The man who’d grabbed her wrist stormed away, leaving her there. “Sit down over here. You can see him from here.” The stranger stood from his chair, vacating it for her.
“Thank you… thank you so much.” The man nodded and walked towards the back with a cigar in hand.
The chair was warm but far from comforting. She could see things even clearer now, which made her heart sink. The side of Hunter’s body was as red as a tomato where he’d been hit. Something was definitely wrong. His trainer was practically screaming, though she couldn’t make out what the man was saying. Zion looked a bit distraught as well. He, too, was in pain, but not bleeding as much as Hunter. The trainer was yelling now, and she could only make out the words, ‘FUCK HIM UP!’ The man jammed the mouthpiece back in Hunter’s mouth and then, her man smiled at her.
“I love you… you can do this!” she mouthed, her eyes watering.
Something about this fight was far more important to her man than she’d first realized. He wasn’t doing this to impress a bunch of fat cats, or even for the money. Something was on the line, something big. She recalled the odd conversation they’d had weeks ago, and now it all made sense. Sometimes, Hunter spoke in riddles, especially when he didn’t want her to know all the details. He was opening up more, but he was still a private man by nature. He guarded his thoughts carefully. Regardless, this was something he hungered for. He needed this.
The bell chimed and the match resumed. She was now shaking, her entire body a wreck.
Round three was nothing short of dreadful. This time, Hunter didn’t get knocked to the ground, headbutted, or anything of the like, but it seemed that Zion had found a weak spot and kept nailing it. No sound came from Hunter’s mouth, but it was clear from his at times tense facial expression that he was in tremendous physical pain. Hunter was known for having a high pain threshold. Many had punched him and he never seemed to feel it – but not this time. Zion was another breed of fighter.
She sobbed on the inside, just like Hunter did. That was how he’d cried most of his life – in a way no one could see. Pain held within leads to emotional stage 4 cancer of peace of mind. It’ll eat you alive, bit by bit. It’ll kill you…
She blinked back tears and held her head high. Crossing her arms, she blinked away the tears and put her faith in the unseen. Round four came in like a limping lamb. It was a disaster. The crowd began to taunt Hunter.
“The Big Bad Wolfe is a sheep in wolf’s clothing! No, a performing poodle! You don’t need a chain collar and leash. You need uh pink boa!” someone teased, causing a big burst of laughter to ripple through the crowd. Nita didn’t dare look out into the nasty, greedy eyes of the men who mocked her sweetheart from afar. Men who couldn’t take one punch from a ten-year-old kid, let alone a trained, supreme boxer like Zion and Hunter. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Instead, she focused on Hunter.
She focused hard, sending her energy to him, so that should he look at her, he’d see hope. He’d see love. He’d see that he was always a winner in her eyes, no matter what. The crowd cheered as Zion got him once again in the ribs. This time, Hunter emitted a low growl. The sound rang through to her core.
Zion was ripping him to shreds and by the end of round four, she wished for this nightmare to be over. But there was something in Hunter’s eyes, something strange… a twinkle within the darkness of the twin tiny green oceans. He was her Beauty. He was her Beast. There was something beautiful about the way he looked at that moment… covered in sweat and blood, under the glow of the bright lights, wearing the smile of a dead woman who loved him from beyond the grave.
He glanced at her a time or two, one of the eyes now clearly half swollen. Zion had gotten some bad medicine, too. He didn’t look too hot, either. They were both at their wits end, holding on for dear life. Zion was bleeding about the lip. This was what they wanted though. Some people simply had the primal urge to fight. Many others loved being spectators. She used to think it all a bit barbaric, but now, she did see beauty in it. To channel those emotions did take skill. It took control; it took away her baby’s pain. It hurt, but it was his medicine. If he could fight here, he wouldn’t have to fight out there…
They were excellent fighters, trying to prove something – not to the crowd, but to themselves. Hunter went back to his seat after the bell rang once again. He looked up at the blinding lights as his manager screamed and yelled, obviously angry as hell. He seemed to be floating away, in his own world, half listening.
It was then that she saw something written on his right boxing glove. ‘Noah.’ She smiled sadly and nodded. Perhaps he was dedicating this fight to him? Hunter was back on his feet for round five. He was the definition of the ‘Comeback Kid’.
Zion wasted no time. He hit him so hard, it looked as if his head was going to do a three-sixty. She lowered her gaze for a spell, tears streaming her cheeks as some men delighted in her baby’s misery. When she looked back up, she found Hunter’s gaze on her, his eyes darker than the pitch black of a moonless night. That sent shivers down her spine. He spun towards Zion, a twisted grin on his face. Her heart was beating so fast, it scared her. She grabbed the fabric of her dress in her fist and yanked.
“NOAH!” she cheered amongst all the other yells and jeers. “NOAH! NOAH! NOAH! FOR NOAH!”
Hunter kept avoiding Zion’s blows, ducking and dodging like a winding snake. Something told her the man had heard her.
BAM! BAM! BOOM!
Suddenly, Hunter socked his opponent three times, delivering fast, sickening blows that had Zion stumble back and hit the damn mat like a sack of stones. Over half the crowd jumped to their feet, many in awe.
“YES! YES!!!” She nearly jumped out of her skin with excitement.
Men cursed and lost their shit all around her. She leaned to see better. Zion lay there, unmoving. How was this possible?! The man had won every round, and now, he appeared unconscious! They’d worn each other down to the nub, but somehow, Hunter had managed to summon some renewed energy – just enough to take his opponent out! Hunter stared at the other fighter, his chest heaving, nostrils flared, looking like an enraged bull. Several others gathered into the ring, just like in the fight with the Joker, to rouse Zion and make him come back to Earth. Nothing seemed to work until someone shoved something near his nostril, causing the man to come to. The referee waved his hands back and forth and the crowd went ape shit, totally insane. The fight was over. Zion could not stand on his own two feet and could barely answer any questions coherently.
What had looked like a sure win for Zion, a sure bet, ended up with Hunter taking the last bit of his potency, or perhaps his hatred and rage, and socking the man so fast and hard that it had looked like a damn blur.
“Tonight’s champion is ‘Tyyyyyrant, the Wolfe! By Fifth Round K.O.!” The announcer grabbed Hunter’s arm and raised it in the air. The room erupted with euphoria and wrath. It was like a damn zoo. Chairs were tossed about while others in the room seemed to be crying tears of pure joy, waving betting cards and cash. She slowly approached him as he was led off the stage, his trainer nothing but smiles. After a short while, Hunter was pulled to the side to receive medical attention. He winked at her with his one good eye and motioned for her to stand right by his side. Racing to him, she rose on her tippy toes and kissed him on his swollen face. Bandages were wrapped on his wrist, hand, and ribs as the doctor talked fast to him.
“Long term carpal bossing…laceration above left eye… fractured rib…” The physician ke
pt rattling off his list of guesstimated injuries as he examined him, feeling his skin and injuries with gloved hands. Hunter appeared rather calm as he was iced down and catered to. The doctor told him to go to the doctor first thing in the morning and to get rest tonight. Hunter wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head as the doctor jammed what he described as some effective but safe pain relievers in a brown paper bag and set them down on a nearby chair. Nita reached over and took the crinkled bag, keeping it close to her person.
“Thank you.” Hunter waved at the doctor as the man walked away. She got ready to tell him how scared she’d been. How much she’d prayed… But then decided that wasn’t what he needed to hear right then.
“I love you. You did an amazing job tonight, baby.”
He nodded, a somber expression on his face.
“I love you, too, JJ.” As they made their way towards the exit, several men approached.
“Excellent! Excellent!” one of them said excitedly.
Hunter rolled his eyes.
“Five solid rounds!” another stated with a grin. “You gave ’em to me.”
“I didn’t give you shit. None of what happened tonight was an act. I shoulda trusted my gut instinct more and this would’ve been over sooner, but I made a couple of mistakes and it cost me. It won’t happen again. Anyway, it’s over now. Ricky, I want what you promised. You know the deadline.” Hunter’s voice was tense, terse, mean. “And stop pretending you’re happy. You bet on both of us, but a bit higher on Zion. That’s cheating. But what do I expect from a professional gambler and con-man?”
The man’s grin faded.
“Hunter, what a wild assumption!”
“Think I’m fuckin’ stupid? And I know Johnny was here, too. Had to see it for himself I guess, make sure things went to his liking. I hope he saw what he wanted to see. Enough of that though. I want that call, man. I mean it. There’s always a price if you want to come play with me. I don’t do shit for free or on the low-low, ever. Don’t make me have to contact you first,” Hunter spat as he nudged the man out of the way.
“What call, Hunter?” He took her hand and led her to a restroom where his bag was stashed. “What call?” she repeated.
“Nita. I’ve got a business arrangement. That’s it.”
She watched him shower, dry off, and put on fresh clothing.
“Hunter, if you do something that will cost you me, this new vocational opportunity and the peace that you have, then don’t do whatever it is you’ve got cooking up.”
He stared at her, his breathing was slow and steady. He turned off the light, grabbed his bag, and they headed out, walking side by side.
“I’m sleepin’ over your house tonight. I’ll follow you home in my car,” he announced. They stepped outside and waited for the valet to arrive with their keys.
“Sleeping at my house? Yeah, right,” she teased, though she felt far from being in a joking mood. Hunter was up to something, and it worried her so. He refused to talk about it. As usual. “Is that what they call it now?”
“Sex. I want sex tonight.”
“But you’re all busted up. You have to see the doctor in the morning. You need to rest.”
“My dick is working just fine. I need you to suck and fuck me. Surf ’nd turf. Pussy and a blow job. Then I’ll rest.” His tone was serious, yet rough. Her car was brought out first. She hopped in, drove a few feet, and pulled over to the side. His soon arrived and as she looked through the rear-view mirror, she noticed the man named Ricky hand him an envelope, whisper in his ear, then give him a pat on the back. Hunter shook his hand, as if pleased with whatever transpired. He trailed her, the ride long and lonely, even though he was there. Her cellphone rang. It was a number she didn’t recognize, so she didn’t answer. About an hour later, they arrived at her house. The girls were sound asleep at nearly one in the morning. Hunter slipped into the bathroom and she could hear him taking a piss as she disrobed. Then, he proceeded to brush his teeth, all the while humming a tune. Several minutes later, he emerged, butt naked with a raging hard on.
She went into the bathroom to freshen up and slip on something pretty, then gripped the sides of the sink as her eyes filled with tears at the sight of blood in the basin. She could see he’d rinsed the sink, but hadn’t gotten all of it. Gathering her wits, she reminded herself her man needed her to be strong. Hunter knew the risks. He wasn’t hurting because of the physical pain, but because he had something to prove to himself, and he was going to keep on doing it until he’d had his fill. She returned to the bedroom, slid on a gold satin nightgown with spaghetti straps, and padded over to him.
In a flash, she had his heavy cock in her mouth, slurping and sucking, making him moan and shudder from her oral prowess. He jerked in and out of her mouth, the ridges of his dick grazing against her teeth. He pushed her into him, making her take more of him, and pumped himself in and out of her mouth. Her pussy wept and her nipples hardened as he took over, his aggressive need for her sending her into a tailspin of lust.
“Stand up… give me that fucking pussy, baby.”
She released him, but not before tasting a few drops of his precum.
He wasted no time placing her just how he wanted her: face into the pillow and ass up. She moaned and cooed as he roughly entered her, while ‘Losing My Religion’ by R.E.M. played on his phone playlist.
“You don’t have to worry about getting me off, baby. I know you’re sore and tired.”
He plunged deep within her. Scratching at the bed, she held on for dear life as he ravished her. She sighed and shuddered when she felt the tenderness of his kisses up and down her spine, delighting her so. Such the opposite of the way he fucked. With a delicate, almost sophisticated touch, he reached around the front of her and stroked her pussy and clit, making her feel so damn good. She tingled all over.
“It’s my job to make you cum. Isn’t a man supposed to provide, baby? Shelter… security… sex…”
He kissed her spine once more as he kept stroking her pussy like a pro until she exploded, raining down on his fingers and her inner thigh. He kept stroking her kitty as he fucked her, long after she’d reached her peak. She was spent, her body rocking up and down the bed as his need grew by the second. Pressing his body into hers, he flattened her to the bed, making her practically immobile. Hunter wrapped his feet around hers, pinning her in place, jerking in and out of her pussy with ruthless, brutal, hard thrusts. His grunts and groans were deep and frequent, his lovemaking intense. Intertwining their fingers above her head, he kissed her cheek.
“I love you, baby. JJ, I’m not going to be everything you want me to be, but I promise to be everything you need me to be.”
She smiled at his words. In moments, he groaned loud as he came, shooting liquid balminess into her damn soul. It took a while for him to settle, to stop trembling and throbbing inside her. When he stopped moving, he was still breathing hard, and the warmth of his breath along her shoulder soothed her. She looked at him from over her shoulder, and noted his eyes were closed.
Oh, Lord…
She managed to slide from beneath him, but boy was it a struggle. Hunter weighed a damn ton. He was knocked out, sound asleep. She swallowed a giggle. She’d never seen him fall into slumber so quickly. The man was obviously exhausted. She made quick work to get him comfortable under the sheets. Once he was settled and tucked in, she returned to the restroom to clean herself up. Then, she placed a scarf on her head to retire for the night. As she slid in bed next to him, she began to play on her phone.
That was when she realized the person with the unidentified number who’d called when she’d been driving home had left a voicemail. She turned on the television, keeping the volume low, and played the message back.
“Hello, Ms. Percy. This is Detective Hart with the Detroit Police Department in the 3rd precinct. We have some information concerning the missing person’s case involving Holly Sanders. We would like to speak to Olive Sanders as well, who we und
erstand you have temporary legal custody of. Please give us a call at 313-596-5300. Thank you.”
She gripped the phone so tight, it was a shock the damn thing didn’t crumble. Her heart raced as she feared the worst. Somehow, she’d managed to wake the slumbering giant.
“Baby,” he said behind a yawn. “You’re shaking real bad.” He caressed her arm. “What’s wrong?”
She replayed the voicemail so he could hear. Hunter leaned over and turned on the nightstand light. He got out of bed, slipped on some pajama pants he kept in a dedicated dresser drawer in her bedroom, and took her phone. He called the number back, putting it on speaker phone.
“Hi, can I speak to Detective Hart?”
“This is he.” Voices thrummed in the background.
“This is Hunter Wolfe. I have you on speaker phone. You called my girlfriend, Nita Percy, regarding her friend, Holly Sanders.”
“Yes, yes I did. Are you there, Ms. Percy?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Okay… well, unfortunately there is no way to say this to make it easier, Ms. Percy, but… we found Holly’s body. We know it’s her based on previous mugshots and some of her tattoos and jewelry.”
“Oh, God.” She hung her head and began to sob. Hunter wrapped his arm around her.
“I’m sorry,” the detective said after some silence.
“Do you know what happened?”
“Well, she’s receiving an autopsy, but from what we gather, it looked to be a drug overdose.” Hunter shook his head and looked away. “The rate of decomposition suggests she’d been deceased for a few days before the police were called. Unfortunately though, we suspect based on some other information we received that she was with a group of people and they just left her there… probably afraid they’d be arrested. It’s not uncommon to find dead bodies near Alpine.” The man sounded rather glib, but she wasn’t surprised or sore about it. He saw this sort of thing day in, day out.
