by York, Marie
She nodded. “He didn’t do anything.”
He made her uncomfortable, invaded her space after she told him no. “He did enough.”
She nodded again, and her arms were a little shaky.
A strange urge to reach for her, hold her against my chest and comfort her, came over me. But Brooklyn didn’t like to be touched and she was already uncomfortable, so I controlled my urges. “You sure you’re okay?”
Her teeth slid out over her bottom lip, and she took a deep breath. “I just… I hate feeling like I can’t defend myself if I have to. I don’t want to feel weak and incapable. I don’t want to feel fear. I thought working out would make me feel stronger, but it’s making me feel weaker. I just want to learn how to defend myself.”
The sadness in her tone snaked right into my fucking heart, slithering around it and squeezing. “What time do you get out of work?” I asked.
She gave me a weird look before answering. “I have the early shift today, so nine.”
I leaned into her car and grabbed a crumpled up receipt and a pen. I scribbled an address down and handed it to her. “Meet me here after your shift.”
Her eyebrows pinched together above the bridge of her nose. “What is this?”
“You want to learn to fight?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Then don’t ask questions.”
“I’m not going to meet a person whose real name I don’t even know at some undisclosed location. I may be weak, but I’m not stupid.”
I didn’t tell girls my real name. It was something they didn’t need to know. Besides, they wanted the cage fighter; they didn’t give a shit about who I really was.
There was something different about Brooklyn though. Something that I couldn’t quite pinpoint, but made me look at things in a completely different light.
“Nixon.” I smiled at her. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Chapter 7
Brooklyn
I finally got him to tell me his real name. The smallest of victories, but I would still take it. I already knew his name anyway, I just wanted to know that he trusted me, too. If he wanted me to give him my full trust than it needed to be a two-way street. And now, I would finally learn how to fight. To defend myself. I couldn’t wait for my shift to be over.
I dropped off a plate of burgers at the table in the far corner and tried not to cringe when my leg muscles ached at the movement. I turned the wince of pain into a smile for the older couple who came in at least twice a week for lunch, and always tipped well. Janice let me take the table this time. We tried to shift the good tippers back and forth between us.
Janice stood at the counter, waiting for an order. She was older, in her fifties, and the lines around her face told me she lived a hard life. There was a rough edge to her voice that reinforced my thoughts, but she was kindhearted, and always willing to help me out. She even covered several shifts for me when I first started, when my anxiety got the best of me, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave my apartment. She made me feel comfortable here when I didn’t think I could feel comfortable anywhere.
“You should make sure you grab a piece of that coconut cream pie before it’s gone.” Janice nodded to the glass refrigerator that displayed all the desserts. She loved her pies and always made sure to hide a piece for herself before each shift.
Coconut cream pie wasn’t exactly on my meal plan though. Even if it was the idea of filling up on pie then going to learn how to fight didn’t seem like it would be the best combination. “I think I’m going to pass today.”
“Pass on pie? Honey, you do not know what you’re missing out on. But don’t worry, I’ll eat the piece for you.”
I laughed. “Go for it.”
“After our shift I’ll be doing a little shopping if you want to tag along.” Janice always invited me to go places with her and I was never sure if it was because she was lonely or she thought I was. I’d been tempted a few times, but making friends had never been a part of my agenda. The more people who knew me, the more danger I put not only myself in but them as well. This time I didn’t have to lie though.
“I actually have plans.”
Janice smiled, her bright red lipstick leaving a streak on her teeth. “Good on you! I hope it’s a hot date.”
“Not exactly.” Though there was no denying Nixon was hot, but it was far from a date. Not like he’d ever want to date someone like me. I remembered clearly the girl he was with that night on the hood of his car. If that was his type I wasn’t even close.
A pang of disappointment hit my gut and shocked the hell out of me. I had no desire to date, at least I didn’t think I did, so why did the thought of not being Nixon’s type bother me so much?
“Can I get some more coffee?” The man at Janice’s table called out.
“Duty calls,” she said. “But don’t think I didn’t notice that spark in your eyes. She patted my shoulder and grabbed the coffee pot.
I spent the rest of my shift, trying not to think about Nixon, but knowing I’d see him in a few hours, made it impossible.
***
Nixon
I pulled into the parking lot a little before nine that night and smiled when I saw Brooklyn’s car already there. After I walked away from her this morning, I wasn’t sure if she’d actually show. She was probably in a shitload of pain from our earlier workout. Lucky for her, we weren’t going to do anything too strenuous. I’d start off with the basics and we would go from there.
She got out of her car, and was wearing different clothes from what she had been wearing earlier, though they were still two sizes too big.
“You came,” I stated, as I pulled myself out of Tanya, my Mustang, and the only girl who ever left me begging for more.
Brooklyn shrugged. “I figured it was time to stop being scared. Besides, I have a feeling your bite is a lot softer than your bark.”
My dick hardened at the thought of biting her. “Keep saying things like that, and I may just have to prove you wrong.”
Her weight shifted from one foot to the other. “So, what is this place?” she asked.
“Follow me.” I walked over to the side door of the warehouse and unlocked it. I stepped inside and Brooklyn followed.
“My God, it’s hot in here,” she said from the doorway, as I went to flip the light switch. “And it smells like feet.”
“Anything else?” I asked as the lights flickered on across the large space.
She scanned the now lit space, taking in the free weights, punching bags and the ring in the middle.
“Now I know why it smells like feet.” She smiled, and usually a girl’s smile had no effect on me, but hers not only caused my dick to twitch in eagerness but also stirred something inside me I had never felt before. Like my hard on, I ignored it.
“They turn the AC off in here at night to save on costs. Besides.” I ripped my shirt off. “There’s nothing wrong with a little sweating.”
Her eyes widened as she took me in. She went to speak, but stumbled on her words before finally darting her gaze away. “Is this where you train?” she asked, trying to keep eye contact.
I lifted an eyebrow in her direction. Most people knew I was a fighter, but she didn’t take me as a person who paid attention to that stuff. “You stalking me?”
She rolled her eyes. “You wish. I saw a flyer in the gym for your next fight.”
I moved toward her and leaned in close. Close enough that my lips just barely grazed her ear. “You’re right. I do wish.”
She sucked in a jagged breath, and I laughed as I made my way to the ring. I jumped through the ropes and held my hand down to her. “You coming?”
It was only a moment of hesitation, but it felt like a goddamn lifetime before she placed her hand in mine, and let me help her into the ring. I was not one for handholding, but there was something about the way our hands molded together that felt so right. As Brooklyn straightened up and let go of my hand, breaking the connection, she winced sli
ghtly.
“How you feeling?” I asked, knowing how hard I pushed her earlier.
She walked around the ring and came to a stop in the middle. “I’m hurting in places I didn’t know could hurt.”
I smirked. I could make her hurt in even more places if she would just let me. “You’re welcome.”
“You’re right, you are a sadist,” she said, but this time there was no hate in her tone. It was more playful. Maybe she was finally warming up to me enough to let me see what was beneath those baggy ass sweats. Because, goddammit, I wanted to know. “So, you’re going to teach me to fight?”
“I’m going to teach you self-defense. That way, if you’re ever in a situation like earlier, you can be assured to know that if anything more were to happen, you’d be able to handle yourself.”
“Good.”
“Come here.” She looked at me with questions in her eyes, but didn’t ask them. Instead, she did as I said. I lifted my arms and placed my hands on either side of her neck, pretending to choke her. “If I was attacking you right now, and I grabbed you like this, how would you get me off of you?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
I put a little pressure into my hold. “How about now?”
Her entire body locked up and her eyes froze on mine. I squeezed a little harder, not nearly enough to cut off her air flow, but enough to scare her into reacting. “So, you’re just going to let an attacker win. You’re not going to even attempt to try?”
“It’ll only make it worse,” she said, a bleak sorrow clinging to her words.
“Not if you do it the right way. Now, show me. Do exactly what you would do.”
She grabbed for my arms and yanked on them, but she could barely budge the hold I had on her. Panic flashed across her face before defeat settled in.
“You tried. That’s all that matters,” I said. “But now I’m going to show you the right way, because we both know trying means shit in this situation. So, go ahead and grab my neck.” Her fingers slid around my neck, and I focused on the lesson and not on how fucking amazing it felt to have her willingly touching me. “What you want to do is chop the arms.” I demonstrated as I said it. “And then knee the groin and run. You hit the arms first to grab his attention. He won’t expect you to go for anything below at that point because you channeled his attention elsewhere. Got it?”
“I think so.”
“Show me.” I wrapped my hands around the silky, smooth skin of her neck. She chopped my arms, then pretended to knee me.
“Perfect. But don’t think that’ll always work. You need a plan B. First rule. Never stop moving. You are fighting for your life. You do everything in your power to get away. Get as dirty as you can. He has you by the throat, your hands and legs are free. Push into his throat. Poke him in the eyes. Punch him in the face. Keep kneeing and kicking him. Your targets are his groin, feet, throat, eyes and stomach. You want to stomp his feet, hit his throat, and stomach and poke his eyes. If you can go for the eyes, always go for them. Because what happens when you get hit in the eye?”
“You reach for it,” she said.
“Exactly. Which means he’ll drop his hold on you, and you have time to run. So, show me again, using these other tactics.” I placed my hands back on her neck, enjoying the feel of her skin way too much.
She pretended to chop my arms, knee me in the groin, and then poke my eyes. I played out what would happen, but this time I pushed her knee away from my groin, and when she poked at my eye, I covered my eye, reached out, and grabbed her hair. She chopped my arm again, and pulled back, pretending to land a punch to my jaw. I let go of her hair. “Good.”
I used the back of my arm to wipe the sweat from my forehead. Brooklyn was right. It was hot as hell in here.
She lifted her shirt to her face and blotted away the sweat that gave her a glow. Then she pulled the material up and over her head. Beneath the abundance of cotton was a tank top with tiny straps, barely containing her beautiful tits. My eyes drifted down to this tiny waist that I never would’ve known about with all the baggy crap she wore.
As I gawked, she covered her stomach with her arms, which was a damn travesty. She shouldn’t be covering that body up for shit. It was fucking gorgeous.
“You have curves. Who would’ve known?” I joked.
“That’s your nice way of saying I’m fat.”
I went to her and took her hand so she’d stop hiding behind it. “First of all, I don’t do nice. Second of all, curves and rolls are two totally different things. And this.” I grabbed her waist and squeezed the smallest section of her body then ran my hand along the arc that gave way to her amazing ass, forcing myself to keep from sinking my fingers into it. “Is all curve.”
A sexy blush spread up her neck and across her cheeks. “When you’ve been called fat for so long, it’s hard to see it as anything else.”
“Maybe if you stopped hiding behind big ass clothes…”
“The clothes have nothing to do with it,” she cut me off.
“Who the fuck would call you fat?” Anger swelled inside of me which was completely fucking stupid, since when she walked into the gym, I myself questioned if she was fat or not.
“It’s not important. Come on. Show me what to do next.”
“We went over front choking. Now, what happens if I grab you from behind, and start choking you with my arm?”
“I assume I go for the same spots. Feet, throat, stomach, eyes.”
“Yes, but it’s not always that easy.” I held my finger up to her and gestured her to come to me. I turned her so she was facing away from me and hooked my arm around her neck. I pressed my chest into her, and her ass pushed into my cock. “Get me off of you,” I whispered against her ear.
Her body tensed. Her arms shook and suddenly she bucked against me. She didn’t pretend to stomp my foot, she actually did. I took an elbow to the side and dodged quickly before getting another.
“Get off of me!” she screamed, panic lacing her words.
I dropped my arm from her and backed away, holding my hands up. “What the fuck was that?” I yelled, my voice echoing off the walls, but it was like she didn’t even see me.
She backed into the corner, her body pushing up against the pole as she gasped for breath. Tears rimmed her eyes, and she looked like she just saw a goddamned ghost.
The girl was losing her shit, and I didn’t know what to do. I walked over to her and rested my hand on her shoulder, but she flinched away from my touch. That, and remembering how she bucked against me, desperately trying to get away from me, sent anger coursing through my veins.
I slapped my chest and bent down to her. “Did you honestly think I was going to hurt you?” Her lip quivered, and she squeaked. Un-fucking-believable. “I may be an asshole, but I’m not fucked up. I wouldn’t fucking do something like that.”
“I know,” she whispered so softly I barely heard it.
“Then, what the fuck was that? Because clearly you felt threatened.”
She shook her head, refusing to look at me, and refusing to say anything else.
The smart-mouthed woman I was used to was just a shell, hiding the broken pieces beneath.
I stepped over to her, wanting to rest my hand on her shoulder, but afraid it would send her into another freak out. So, I resisted the urge.
“Did someone already hurt you? Is that why you want to learn to defend yourself?” Rage built inside of me, and my fists clenched at my side, but I managed to subside it. Hostility would only make the situation worse. “Tell me, B, and I’ll fucking make sure they never touch you again.”
“I’m sorry. I have to go.” She grabbed her t-shirt and took off running.
Before I could react, she was gone.
I had the urge to hit something. To break something into a million fucking pieces. I jumped out of the ring and went right to the punching bag. I didn’t waste a second, pounding the shit out of it. Sweat poured off of me, my knuckles raw, but the anger was stil
l swirling inside of me. This wasn’t working.
I grabbed my shit and headed out to the bar down the street, looking for a body with hole to stick my dick in, and give me the release I really needed.
Chapter 8
Nixon
I should have let that redhead at the bar suck me off last night. She fucking offered, but I couldn’t get Brooklyn out of my head. Maybe if I shot my load into the back of her throat, I would have found some release for this fucking tension that was plaguing me. But no, Brooklyn’s face had to pop into my mind and the redhead became useless to me. I downed the rest of my beer and stormed out.
I still couldn’t believe Brooklyn thought I was capable of attacking her. I would never hurt her. I wasn’t exactly a good person, but I’d never hit a woman not even my own sister who I despised. I might have been low on the moral pole, but I would never sink that fucking low. I had standards for fucks sake.
We hadn’t been training all that long, but I thought we had a mutual trust. Clearly, I was fucking wrong. She didn’t trust me any more than she trusted that douchebag that cornered her in the parking lot.
Never in my life had a girl ever been able to get me so heated. My already short fuse was cut down to a stub. All I wanted to do was break shit. Every little goddamned thing pissed me off. And, right now, the only place for me to be was the ring.
Kevin, my sparring buddy, held up his hands as I punched the pads over and over again. I landed my left fist into his right so hard that he stumbled back. “Whoa there, killer. You want to take it down a notch.”
“No,” I growled, and continued to hit the pads with all that I had.
He stumbled again, and this time he didn’t put his hands back up. “Dude, you’re going to take my hand off. What is your problem today?”
“Nothing,” I spat.
“Well, whatever is eating at you, seal it up inside you, and let it out at your next fight. The guy won’t have a chance in hell.”
I’d used that tactic before. Fed off my anger to give me an upper hand in the ring. The reason I beat Brian “Brick” Johnson to a fucking pulp was because I spotted my ex-best friend in the crowd. Unfortunately for Brick, everything I was feeling toward Beckham, I took out on him. He was lucky he only wound up in the hospital and not six feet under. If I didn’t get pulled off him, I don’t think I ever would’ve stopped.
