by York, Marie
It was two weeks until my next fight, and a hangover was the last fucking thing I needed. Getting drunk wasn’t even my style anymore. I grew out of that shit my first year of college, preferring to wake up early and get a head start at the gym. A clear head and a strongly honed body had gotten me to where I was now, and there was no way I was going to throw all my hard work away over a fucking girl. A married one at that.
I pushed my fingers into my temples as I grabbed a cup from the cabinet. Sassy rubbed against my legs, but I didn’t have the energy to bend down and pick her up. She purred lightly and nudged her head into me. Like most women, she didn’t take rejection very well. “Sorry, girl,” I muttered as I popped open the aspirin.
It was going to be a long fucking day.
Once I managed to shower and get dressed without my head exploding, I hopped in my car and headed out. I kept my morning open from appointments, so I could get a training session in. The aspirin finally started to do its job, and my head cleared, but the instant it did, thoughts of Brooklyn forced their way back in again.
Husband. How did I not pick up on that? She never wore a ring, not that it’d stopped me before, but Brooklyn was more than a body and a hole. I didn’t want just sex from her. For the first time in my life, I thought I wanted more, and if she had worn a ring, at least I’d be able to make sense of this shitshow. But nothing was making sense, including this weird fucking obsession I had.
I should’ve been glad she was married, and just get the fuck over it. I allowed myself to get distracted and Brooklyn having a husband was exactly what I needed to get my head back in the game and focus on my upcoming fight.
I took a deep breath, trying to blow all thoughts of a woman I shouldn’t want from my head, and went straight to the ring. Kevin was already there with his gear on, waiting for me. When he spotted me coming his way, he nodded and then said, “Running late?”
“Rough morning,” I mumbled as I dropped my bag and jumped into the ring.
“Ready to go?” he asked and I answered with a jab to his right hand. “I guess that’s a yes,” he joked, as I continued to jab right to left.
Right. Left. Married. Why wasn’t she wearing a ring? Right. Left. Why did she kiss me? Act all innocent when she was the manipulator. Right. Left.
Kevin held his hands up taking the blows, but I could tell the pads weren’t lessening the sting. I might’ve been hungover, but I was still full of rage.
Sweat formed on my forehead and dripped down my face, but I didn’t bother to wipe it away. In the cage, sweat was the least of my worries, and when I trained, I pretended the circumstances were the same. There was no room for distractions. I had to keep my mind in the fight and on my opponent. One second of distraction was all it took to lose a fight. I would never let that happen. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to blow it now.
I switched it up, throwing kicks in the mix. I was relentless, as I allowed all the anger and frustration to course through me and into each hit. My mind was focused on the win and the energy poured out of me.
Husband. Right. Left. She was too young to be married. Right. Left. Though anyone eighteen and over could get married… but why? Right. Left. What else was she keeping hidden? Right. Left. Why was it always the people I let in, deceit me? Right. Left. First Beckham and now Brooklyn. Right. Left.
“Whoa!” Kevin yelled and stepped out of the way. “Easy killer, or you’re going to be training on your own.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, finally swiping the sweat away.
“Nope, just do me a favor, and hold all of that.” He motioned his hand toward me. “For the actual fight.”
I nodded and bent down to pick up a towel. A fucking spider crawled out from under it, and I jumped back as a less than totally manly noise slipped out.
Kevin started laughing, and I wanted to knock him the fuck out. “Dude, it’s a spider.”
“Shut up,” I growled as I moved to the other side of the ring. “Can you fucking kill it already?”
“Wait a second. Nixon ‘Viper’ Bennett, the meanest fighter around, is scared of a little spider?”
I narrowed my eyes and clenched my fists. “I’m not scared of it. I just don’t fucking like them, okay?” Ice ran through my voice.
“Okay.” Kevin held his hands up and stepped on it. “The big bad spider is dead,” he mocked, and I went at him with my fist. He flung his hands out in front of him, and I stopped. “I was kidding. Sorry.”
“Forget that ever happened,” I insisted.
“Forget what?”
I smiled and patted his back. “Thanks. I’m going to go hit the shower. We on again tomorrow afternoon?”
“I’ll be here.”
I picked up my bag and called over my shoulder, “See you then.” Suddenly, feeling itchy as hell, I hurried to the shower. I fucking hated those creepy little bastards.
I jumped in the shower, and, as soon as the cold water hit my head, I felt the relief I was looking for. With all the shit out of my mind, and my focus back where it should be, I could get over Brooklyn and move on with my life. But, as the water ran down my chest, something twisted in my gut.
Thoughts of Brooklyn found their way back in. This time it wasn’t her tits or her ass that were front and center. No, instead, I thought about the way she jumped the first time I got near her. The way she freaked out while I was training her in self-defense. Self-defense.
Fuck!
I was too pissed to see it, but now it was all starting to make sense.
She was never afraid of me, but clearly there was someone who terrified her. Someone who made her seek out the help she desperately needed.
She needed me to help her because she’s afraid… afraid of her husband.
How the fuck did I not realize that when I met him at her door? He was a nasty prick who had fire in his eyes. I was so blindsided over the fact that she had a husband that I missed what should have been so obvious. He was hurting her. I knew it. I felt it in my gut.
I quickly rinsed the soap off of me and towel dried as I headed to my locker. Water still dripping down my legs, I yanked on my clothes and ran out to Tanya.
The car was barely in reverse as I dropped the clutch and floored it out of my spot. I headed back to Brooklyn’s and prayed that fucker answered the door again. This time, I wasn’t walking away like an injured puppy.
Fuck, no.
This time the fucker was going down. There was no way I would let him lay a hand on her ever again. I didn’t give a fuck that he was her husband. She was mine, and I protected what was mine.
Chapter 17
Brooklyn
Karl’s grip tightened on my wrist as he yanked me close to him. His finger snaked out, and snapped the strap of my tank top, stinging my skin. “What the fuck is this?” he demanded, his lip curling in disgust.
He warned me about wearing anything but baggy t-shirts and pants out in public. It was a rule he put into place a month into our marriage, but I thought, because I was inside, it would be okay. There was no one to see me. Only him.
“It’s my tank top. I was only going to wear it inside, I swear,” I pleaded, keeping my eyes on his hand, and waiting for it to wind back and slap me across the cheek.
He grabbed my face, digging his strong fingers into my skin. “You look like a goddamned whore. Is that what you want?” His other hand latched on to my breast, squeezing it so tight that tears pricked my eyes. “You want me to treat you like a whore?”
“No,” I stated, trying to stay strong. He might’ve found me, but I was sick and tired of cowering at every threat. With everything Nix taught me, I was confident I could defend myself. The only problem was, when would the defending stop? Because I honestly believed it would only piss Karl off more. Make him feel an obligation to himself to punish me. To never be taken off guard again. He would be relentless in his revenge, and that was something I wasn’t prepared for. Not yet at least.
“Good girl,” he sneered, and smashed
his lips to mine. My breath halted in my throat, and I froze. I could taste the pizza he had for lunch and the beer he had along with it.
My stomach churned, thinking that this was only the beginning. We hadn’t had sex since he arrived, but it was only a matter of time before he needed to stick his dick in something. If I were lucky, he’d find some girl at a bar just like he did most of the time.
To think, I was actually upset the first time I found out he cheated on me. Young and stupid, that’s what I was. I should’ve listened to Dad when he told me Karl was no good. Instead, I ignored him, too blinded by my own teenage romance. Dad saw something in Karl I didn’t see until after we were married, and by then, it was too late.
As soon as I turned eighteen, I abandoned my father and brother to become a military wife. I moved a thousand miles away from the only place I ever called home, leaving behind my family and friends.
I missed them so much it physically hurt. My brother, Chris, and I were so close growing up. When Mom died, I was twelve and he was ten, and it brought us even closer. And I just left him. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about them. Karl would never let me call them, and I didn’t want to anyway. I was ashamed. Embarrassed. Mortified about my life. I only hoped their lives were better than mine.
Karl bit my lip, then pulled back, his fingers still digging into my cheeks. “Now, go put some clothes on.” He shoved my face away from his, and I didn’t waste a second making myself scarce.
I ran into the bedroom and grabbed an old ratty t-shirt, pulling it on over my head. I caught my reflection in the mirror, and for a split second, before the oversized material fell into place, I smiled at my trimmed waist. I adjusted the shirt and my smile vanished. All that hard work and progress was all covered up now, and really, it didn’t even matter anymore.
The sound of keys being scooped up had me peering around the door frame. Karl untucked his dog tags from beneath his white t-shirt, resting them center on his chest. He ran a hand through his hair and checked himself in the mirror. He might as well have called out to me that he was going on the prowl for a willing girl. While I couldn’t as much as look in the direction of another guy, Karl cheated on me with no qualms.
“I’ll be back. Don’t you go anywhere,” he yelled down the hall instead and slammed the door behind him.
The tension, always so tight in my neck whenever he was around, instantly loosened. I took a deep calming breath and let myself relax. I never knew how long he’d be gone for, but every second was like a Godsend. I welcomed it with open arms.
I ducked back into the bedroom and dropped to my knees by the bed. I slid my hand under it searching for the loose board. When I found it, I popped it up and reached in, pulling out the bottle of sleeping pills I managed to buy from some shady guy in the complex.
I dumped one white tablet in my hand and tightened the cap back on the bottle before slipping it back into its hiding place. If Karl was asleep, he couldn’t hurt me. Force me to suck his dick. Or, practically rape me, as I lay there pretending to be anywhere else. And he would if he didn’t find a girl tonight. This little pill would be my assurance that he’d stay away from me if he didn’t get what he was looking for.
A loud bang echoed through the apartment and I jolted at the intense door knocking, dropping the pill. It rolled to a stop by the end table and I scooped it up, sliding it into my pants pocket.
Was Karl back already? The pounding on the door grew louder and every muscle in my body froze.
“Brooklyn! Brooklyn, are you in there?”
Nixon.
My heart thundered against my chest, beating out of control. What was he doing here again? If Karl was here… No, I wouldn’t even think that.
I walked out to the living room as his knocks became more desperate, his voice straining with anger and determination. “I swear to God, if he hurts you, I’ll fucking kill him!”
Oh God. He figured it out. He had to. Why else would he say that? I wanted so desperately to run to the door, fling it open, and jump into his arms. Allow him to protect me as I knew he could, but I just stood there, listening to his voice and the frantic thuds on the door.
I rested my hand on the doorknob, but let it fall limply to my side. No matter how badly I wanted Nix, I couldn’t drag him into my mess. Karl was never going to let me go. I tried once. I went to the police, and filed a report against him, but because his dad was some bigwig in the Army, he was able to get the charges dropped. He always was able to get the charges dropped.
Nix wouldn’t understand. He was too hot-headed for his own good. The thought of him going after Karl chilled me right down to the bone. One of them wouldn’t make it out alive, and neither outcome I’d be able to live with.
So, I stepped away from the door and away from Nix.
Chapter 18
Nixon
My fist took on a mind of its own as I continued to pound on Brooklyn’s door. Visions of her beaten to a fucking bloody pulp kept flashing in my mind, and it was literally tearing me apart. It was something I had never experienced before. I never cared enough about another person that the thought of them being harmed actually gutted me. I realized then, that I had been lucky. This feeling was fucking awful.
I was afraid for her, and I didn’t fear anything. Her husband—that fucker—was a big guy. That bastard could tear her apart. Dammit, I wish I had taught her more. I just hoped that I taught her enough to get away from him alive, if it came to that. I remembered the look in his eye that day I met him at the door. I didn’t realize it before, but now thinking about it, there was seriously something wrong with him, and the thought of her enduring his madness made we want to break the door down to rescue her.
I wanted to believe that if she were in there, she would open the door. So, my hand came to rest on the wood and I pressed my forehead to the door. I was losing my fucking mind. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. With a hard push, I shoved myself off the door and turned away.
A neighbor across the hall, an old bag in a robe and curlers in her hair, ducked back into her apartment after making eye contact with me, and giving me a dirty look.
I was used to getting dirty looks from people. Whether it was people who didn’t approve of my lifestyle or my usage of certain words, or my parents who didn’t care for my career choice or any decision I’ve made in my life, but for some reason that old hag got under my skin. The look held more than just passing judgment. It was like being in the cage with an opponent. Their eyes warning me of what was to come, trying to make me cower to them. Great, now I was becoming fucking delusional. Since when did I give a flying fuck about what someone thought of me?
I laughed it off. She was two steps away from hospice care. What would she possibly do to me?
I stormed out of the building, aware of every person I passed, and every face I could detect in the distance. If I saw that shithead husband of hers, I would end this right now. But, by the time I made it to Tanya, he was still nowhere in sight.
For good measure, I gave one last glance around the complex and then sunk into the driver seat. As soon as I put the car into drive, my cell rang. I stopped at a stop sign and glanced down.
Sal’s name flashed across the screen, and I swiped to answer the call. I turned off the part of my brain that was worried about Brooklyn and went into business mode.
“Yeah?” I said, turning on the speaker, and peeling away from the stop sign.
“You have your fight with Tanker in a week. Want to make sure you’re ready.”
“I’m always ready. I didn’t hire you to be my personal calendar. I hired you to book fights.”
He laughed. “Consider it an added bonus.”
“More like a big pain in my ass.”
“Any word from Seth?”
“Not a thing. I told you. I don’t have any weak spots. There will be no mind games, and he’ll lose his upper hand, so stopping fucking asking me already.”
“Alright. Alright. Oh, and
don’t forget you have to drop seven pounds for the Briggs fight.”
“Goodbye, Sal.” I ended the call and shook my head as I tossed my phone into the cup holder. Who needed a girlfriend when I had Sal and his nagging, annoying pain in the ass self?
I pulled Tanya into the warehouse parking lot and headed in. Even though I worked out with Kevin this morning, I had the urge to hit something. The door was still open, as a few new fighters were practicing in the ring. Mark stood outside the ropes, yelling pointers and moves they should be taking advantage of.
They needed to listen just as I hoped Brooklyn had listened to me. I had no way of finding her and all I had was the hope that she could defend herself if she needed. But I also prayed that I was wrong because the thought of some shithead, having his hands on her…
I jumped up beside him and watched the two amateurs trying to show off, but making rookie mistake after rookie mistake. “They have a lot to learn,” I said to Mark.
He smacked my back and smiled. “So did you, and look at you now, champ.”
“When are you going to realize you lucked out with me?”
“And, to think, back then I didn’t think you could get any cockier.”
The guy in the red shorts dodged a punch, and used it as a chance to take down his opponent. It was a good move, and I fucking hated to admit it, but I could see what Mark saw in him. The other guy, it was questionable.
“I’m going to go hit the bag,” I said, before turning away from the fight, and jumping down from the ring.
“Oh, Vipe, I forgot. There’s a package in my office.”
“A package?” I questioned.
“Yeah, UPS brought it by early this afternoon.”
I wasn’t expecting anything, but it wouldn’t be the first time a girl sent me her bra and panties with a note to meet her after a fight. Or maybe it was something from Brooklyn, letting me know she was okay. “Thanks, I’ll go grab it.”
