Lightning Strykes

by Sherryl Hancock

  They sparred for another ten minutes. Quinn grew tired, not having quite the stamina that a seasoned fighter like Remington did. At five eight, Quinn was only an inch shorter than Remington was, so they were well matched that way, but Remington had about fifteen pounds on her, and it was all muscle. As they faced each other, Remington could see Quinn was tired and breathing heavily.

  “Trase?” Remington said, her eyes sparkling with admiration for the other woman. “Call it a draw?”

  Quinn shook her head, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Remington nodded, respecting that Quinn wanted to finish the fight. She brought her hands up, showing Quinn that she was ready again. Quinn shifted forward, moving quickly, and throwing a quick jab. Remington side stepped the fist, and grabbed her arm, spinning with admirable speed, putting her hip to Quinn’s midsection and quickly flipping Quinn over her shoulder. Her arm came down and locked around Quinn’s shoulders, raising her fist and doing a quick movement to indicate where she would have punched Quinn in a real fight. Quinn put her right arm out, hitting the mat in a tap out movement. Remington immediately released Quinn, getting to her feet and extending her hand.

  “Damned good…” Quinn said, shaking her head. “Guess that’s why you’re the champ, huh?”

  Remington merely inclined her head, quirking her lips.

  “I know I feel safer already,” Wynter said, grinning at Remington as she walked over to pick up her water and take a drink.

  “Now, when are you going to do that to Akasha Salt?” Jericho asked.

  Remington shook her head. “I’m retired,” she said simply. “Veruca is on her own.”

  “Veruca?” Quinn queried. “I thought her name was Akasha?”

  “Veruca is what her fellow MMA fighters called her,” Remington said, smiling slightly.

  “As in Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka?” Xandy asked.

  Remington pursed her lips, nodding. “As in ‘I want it now, daddy!’ ” she said in a fair imitation of the spoiled character from the classic movie. “She always wanted everything right now, including my title.”

  “But you beat her twice,” Wynter added.

  “Three times actually, but only twice officially,” Remington said, in a very rare show of ego.

  “Wait, what?” Quinn asked.

  Suddenly everyone was on their phones looking it up. Remington stood by, shaking her head, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.

  “Wait, who’s Sage Baker?” Wynter asked having looked up Akasha Salt and Remington LaRoché battles and seeing that name associated with the results.

  Remington didn’t answer her look wary.

  “She’s Akasha Salt’s girlfriend,” Jet said. “Holy fuck, she’s hot…” She glanced up at Remington. “You tap that?”

  Remington looked shocked by the question.

  “She won’t answer that in mixed company,” Wynter told Jet.

  Jet wiggled her eyebrows, grinning unapologetically.

  “This says that Akasha accused you of hitting on Sage…” Devin said, looking over at Remington.

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Wynter said.

  “No, she wouldn’t,” Kashena agreed, glancing at her friend.

  “She hit on you?” Jericho asked, seeing the look in Remington’s eyes.

  Everyone looked at Remington for the answer. Remington didn’t answer for a long moment, but finally inclined her head, because she knew she wasn’t going to get out of it without some kind of answer.

  “Ah-ha!” Quinn exclaimed. “That’s why Akasha is after you, she knows she can’t even keep her girl happy.”

  “And with a girl that looks like that… that would be a full-time job…” Jet said, her tone low.

  “Well, you can’t let her keep talking shit about you,” Tyler said. “It’ll never stop.”

  “She’ll get bored, eventually,” Remington said.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Quinn said. “She wants your title, and she’s not going to give up till she gets it.”

  “I retired, it’s no longer my title,” Remington said.

  “But you were the one that held it last, and this is personal for her,” Jericho pointed out.

  Remington didn’t respond. She shrugged at the group as she picked up her bag.

  “I’m going to go shower,” she told Wynter, and then walked away.

  The group watched her go.

  “She needs to put the beat down on that Salt person,” Sebastian said.

  “Yeah, she does,” Rayden agreed.

  Wynter shook her head. “She’s pretty adamant about it,” she said.

  “Akasha Salt’s gonna talk herself into some serious trouble,” Quinn said with a mutinous look.

  “I can’t believe anyone would take her seriously,” Zoey said.

  “People tend to listen to whoever is talking,” Jericho said, making a face to indicate her poor opinion of that kind of person.

  “Well, maybe we need to come out and say something…” Jet said.

  “Oh, she won’t like that at all,” Wynter said, shaking her head. “Billy Montague was going to say something to the press about the whole matter, and Remi promised her anything she wanted not to do that, so…”

  “She wot?” Quinn said, looking stunned.

  Wynter rolled her eyes. “Yeah, don’t get me started on that…” she said, her voice trailing off ominously.

  “Billy Montague? As in Billy and the Kid, Montague?” Jet asked.

  “The very same,” Wynter said.

  “She’s straight,” Jovina said.

  “They’re all straight,” Cat said, grinning. “Till they’re not.”

  “She’s married!” Zoey exclaimed.

  “And her husband was right there when she was flirting with Quinn and Remi,” Xandy said, glancing at Quinn.

  “She was just screwing with you,” Quinn said, shaking her head.

  “I’m not totally sure about that,” Wynter said, her tone annoyed.

  A few eyebrows went up at Wynter’s tone.

  “Guess we’re gonna find out,” Quinn said looking at Xandy.

  Back at the house, Wynter went upstairs to take a shower. Remington sat out on the patio smoking and letting her mind wander over the morning. The last thing she wanted was to talk about all the garbage in the past. No, she hadn’t gone after Sage Baker, she didn’t go after other women’s girlfriends. Sage had shown up at her apartment in New York, claiming she wanted to talk to her about Akasha. Remington had let her in, and offered to take her coat. When Sage had dropped her coat, she was wearing nothing underneath and had locked her arms around Remington’s neck and kissed her. It had been a surreal moment, and the sheer sensuality of it had temporarily kept her morals from kicking in. Sage Baker was beyond beautiful. She was exquisite. With skin the color of polished mahogany and light green eyes that matched her name, high cheekbones, perfect pouty lips, and the body of a model. There wasn’t a flaw on the woman.

  It had taken Sage’s loud moan to make Remington realize what she was doing, her hands having been grasping at the woman’s skin, her own body a riot of sensations. Breaking the kiss, Remington had carefully set Sage away from her, handing her coat to her while she averted her eyes and had done her best to compose herself.

  “You know you want me, Remi…” Sage had said in a heavy Jamaican accent.

  “Sage, you’re Akasha’s girlfriend,” Remington had said simply.

  “But I can be your girlfriend instead,” Sage had replied.

  Remington had blown her breath out, shaking her head. “I don’t take what does not belong to me.”

  “Let me belong to you then,” Sage said, moving to wind her arms around Remington again.

  Remington had pulled her head back, reaching up to take Sage’s arms gently in her hands to remove them from her neck.

  “Please go,” she’d said politely, her eyes still averted because while Sage had put on the coat, she hadn’t bothered to close it.

  Sage had apparently been
shocked to be turned down, and she’d turned nasty immediately.

  “You’ll be sorry, Remi!” she had told her, striding to the front door and slamming out of it.

  The next day the story had been printed that Akasha was challenging Remington to a fight. “I want her title, and she knows it,” had been Akasha’s statement.

  Behind the scenes, Remington had been assailed with texts from Akasha calling her every kind of nasty name for trying to attack Sage. Remington had simply cancelled her number and changed it. It had been a nightmare for a while. Whenever she’d run into the couple, Akasha had made a show of ‘owning’ Sage. Remington would look at Sage, her look indicating disappointment for what she was letting Akasha believe. Sage would only sneer back at her.

  Remington was so deep in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard Laruen come in and go upstairs. What she did hear was a crash. She was up and out of her chair instantly, and vaulting the stairs two at a time. She could hear yelling coming from the master bedroom, and she threw open the door to see Lauren standing over Wynter screaming at her.

  Remington took two long strides and put her arm around Lauren’s throat, pulling her back away from Wynter. She then extended her hand to Wynter to help her up. Lauren struggled furiously against Remington’s grip, but to no avail. When Remington tightened her arm at Lauren’s throat, Lauren stopped struggling immediately and started struggling to breathe. Remington had just seen the bruise already starting at Wynter’s mouth.

  “You’re done,” Remington growled into Lauren’s ear.

  With that she marched Lauren out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door. She walked her all the way to the curb, then let go of her, giving her slight shove. She then turned and walked back into the house shutting the door and locking it, putting the chain on this time.

  She walked back into the master bedroom to find Wynter sitting on the bed. She went to sit on the bed facing her. Wynter’s head was down, and Remington could see that she was trying to hold it together emotionally. Remington reached out, touching her under the chin to tilt her head up, so she could see what damage Lauren had done. She grimaced at the trickle of blood from Wynter’s mouth and brushed it away with her thumb.

  Wynter gave an anguished sob then and started to cry, leaning the top of her head against Remington’s chest. Remington put her arms around the smaller woman, holding her while she cried. Wynter cried in earnest, her hands grasping at Remington’s shirt in her desolation. Remington could hear Lauren pounding on the door downstairs. She seriously considered going back down there and beating the crap out of the woman but knew that Wynter needed her there at that moment.

  After twenty minutes, Wynter leaned against Remington, her cheek against Remington’s shirt, now wet from her tears. She felt exhausted suddenly. She let Remington’s warmth envelop her, lulling and calming her. She felt Remington’s hands at her back, moving back and forth soothingly and she closed her eyes, unable to think about what had just happened. It was too much to deal with.

  Remington felt Wynter’s breath become even, and she also felt her lean more heavily against her. She knew she was asleep. She carefully lay Wynter down and covered her up. As she stood and looked down at the dark-haired vixen, suddenly she looked very small, and Remington felt a stab of guilt for having not been there to stop Lauren before she’d struck her.

  She walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs, checking the front door to see if Lauren had been foolish enough to hang around. She hadn’t. Remington picked up her phone and called John Machiavelli to let him know what had happened. John was expectedly angry about the danger to Wynter having come from her own girlfriend, but he also stated that he wasn’t surprised. He thought Wynter and Lauren had a strained relationship these days. Apparently, Wynter had made a few statements the night at The Club when John had been with her that had led him to believe that Laruen had changed significantly over the years.

  “She got into drugs a few years back,” John told Remington. “Wynter said she did too, but quickly figured out that it was a dangerous path. She quit, Lauren didn’t, and that seems to be where the problem is.”

  Remington nodded. “I’m pretty sure she was high this morning.”

  “Try to get her to take out a restraining order,” John said. “I think Lauren’s name is on that house, so she has a legal right to be there. Wynter needs to take legal action if she wants to keep her away.”

  “Think she’s going to do that?” Remington asked.

  “I don’t know,” John said sounding unhappy at the situation.

  Remington checked on Wynter a few times, seeing that she was still sleeping. It had been three hours since the incident when Remington walked in to see that Wynter’s eyes were now open. She moved to squat next to the bed, putting her eyes on the same level with Wynter’s.

  “How are you?” Remington asked her.

  Wynter blinked a couple of times, still looking tired. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  Remington nodded.

  “Lauren?” Wynter asked, her voice still a whisper.

  Remington narrowed her eyes at the mention of the other woman’s name. “She left,” she said simply.

  “Did you hurt her?” Wynter asked worriedly.

  Remington flinched at the concern in Wynter’s voice. “No, I escorted her to the curb.”

  Wynter nodded. “She was high, Remi,” she said then.

  Remington didn’t respond to that. Instead she said, “She hit you.”

  “I know,” Wynter said, “but I got in her face.”

  “That doesn’t make it okay, Wynter.”

  “I know, but…” Wynter began, shaking her head, knowing she sounded like so many other women who refused to see an abusive relationship.

  “You need to take out a restraining order against her.” Remington told her.

  “No,” Wynter answered instantly, shaking her head. “I won’t do that.”

  Remington looked back at her, her chin rising slightly with the desire to argue. Her eyes looked up at a spot on the wall as she fought for control of her anger.

  “Why?” she asked when she finally had her emotions under control.

  “Because it’ll ruin her and me… and… I just can’t, Remi, okay?”

  Instead of answering her, Remington put her hand to Wynter’s mouth, her thumb touching the bruise, and looked into Wynter’s eyes.

  “And when she kills you?” she asked in a low, serious tone.

  “She won’t do that, Remi,” Wynter said, moving to sit up in an effort to get away from Remington’s worried look.

  Remington stood up, looking down at Wynter. “You think that, you don’t know it,” she said, her tone saying that she was a fool to do so.

  “I know her, Remi, okay? She’s not normally violent. It sounds like she got ahold of some really bad shit last night and it’s messing with her head.”

  Remington nodded, her look telling Wynter that she knew she was doing her best to cover for Lauren. Finally, she shrugged, shaking her head.

  “It’s your house and your life,” she said simply.

  With that, she turned and walked out of the room. Wynter sat staring at where Remington had stood. She knew that she just needed to make it to the tour and then it would give Lauren some time to think about things. She loved Lauren but her drug use was getting out of hand. That’s what she’d been telling her that morning when Lauren had shocked her by hitting her and knocking her to the ground. She knew that she needed to use this incident to get Lauren to quit. Maybe she could get her into rehab somewhere. That was the thought that kept her occupied for the next few hours. The apology emails, texts, and voicemail messages started coming in from Lauren by mid-afternoon. By that evening she was begging to come home. By eight she was at the front door and Wynter was letting her in. Remington stood at the top of the stairs watching. Wynter walked Lauren into the living room where they sat and talked. Remington shook her head and went into her room, closing the doo
r quietly.

  She texted John to tell him what was going on. She also asked for another night off before the tour, two if she could get it. John responded that he’d make arrangements for two days, knowing that Remington probably needed to get her head together. He knew how she felt, having to guard someone who was in danger but refused to take it seriously. It was difficult. He’d had the same problem with his wife, Cassie.

  Remington also texted Katrina asking her how she was doing. They spent the evening texting back and forth and finally on the phone talking about whatever came to mind.

  John came through with two days off for Remington, five days after the incident with Lauren. Remington immediately called Katrina asking her to spend those days with her. Katrina happily accepted.

  John showed up on Friday morning and Remington briefed him on things in the house. Lauren had been avoiding Remington purposefully and that was just fine with her. Wynter had been pointedly quiet as well, speaking to Remington only when she had to and not talking about the incident with Lauren.

  Remington picked Katrina up at her apartment. They went and had a late breakfast and walked around West Hollywood for a little while, walking along Santa Monica Boulevard and into whatever shops caught their eye. It was relaxing. Remington was dressed casually in faded jeans, black combat boots, a black tank top, and a denim camouflage jacket with the Affliction brand name on it. Katrina had dressed up a little, having been excited to see Remington again. She wore black pants, a black off the shoulder blouse with belled sleeves, intricately embroidered with flowers. Over that she wore a soft black cardigan, and heeled suede boots. Her makeup was soft and her long hair flowed in long waves. She looked distinctly feminine and it was a look that appealed to Remington very much.

  They made an interesting couple walking down the street, especially when Remington reached over and took Katrina’s hand. Katrina glanced over and Remington smiling and squeezed Remington’s hand gently. At the Beverly Center they walked through stores. Katrina was particularly interested in taking Remington into Diesel, a very cool clothing store that just screamed “Remington” to Katrina. She quickly found out that Remington’s weakness tended to be shoes. She immediately picked up a pair of men’s high tops that were made out of blue denim and black leather. They looked at other things, but in the end that’s what Remington bought. In fact, she bought a few pairs of shoes. They walked into a store called Traffic and Katrina found it interesting that Remington never even glanced at the women’s clothing. She always went to the men’s side. Remington noted the grin on Katrina’s face, knowing what she was likely thinking.