Fight

by London Casey

  It made me throb in a way it shouldn’t have.

  My hands eased down to her arms and I started to rub, anything to settle her emotions and pain.

  “You miss him?” I asked.

  “No,” Winter whispered. “That’s the thing, Tripp. I don’t. I never really wanted it. It was just convenient. My chance to hide from the world. Like I’m doing right now.”

  She lowered her head and let out a cry.

  “Jesus, darling,” I whispered. “You don’t have to feel that way.”

  I brought my left hand up and pulled her hair from her face, gently brushing it all to the right side of her head and right shoulder. I caught sight of the side of her cheek. And then she curved her neck, just a little, exposing skin, testing my hunger to taste her.

  “I’m right here,” I said. “I’m not going to lie to you. Expect that from me. And if you don’t want to open up to me anymore than you have, that’s fine. I’m just trying to help you. To protect you. You could have been killed today. If you were alone… and you hurried to your car to get away. I mean, it was a terrible set up because your car wouldn’t have been there if you were alone. Even still. Someone was there. Where was the fucking MC then?”

  “Probably drinking. Worried about who gets to fuck me next.”

  I felt a rage of jealous anger surge through my body. I squeezed at Winter’s arms. She let out a purring sigh. I shut my eyes and told myself no. The women I fucked were one night stands. They lingered after the fights and sometimes were paid for by Aldo as an extra prize for me.

  This couldn’t…

  My lips brushed Winter’s neck. The tip of my tongue flirted with her skin. I pulled my mouth away. I saw Winter’s bottom lip tremble. I kissed her neck again. I pulled her body tighter to mine. My cock thickened, pressing hard against my jeans and just as hard against Winter’s lower back. I knew she could feel me and she didn’t jump away in shock.

  Fuck.

  I flickered my tongue at her neck and kissed one last time.

  I then opened my hands and stepped back.

  I let out a long breath. “Shit. Darling.”

  Winter turned. She put one hand to my face. Then in a bold move she put her other hand between my legs and tried to cup my hard dick.

  “Don’t fight it for too long,” she whispered. “We might be dead soon.”

  Christ, if that wasn’t the most desperate and romantic thing I’d ever heard in my life.

  My hands touched her waist. I slipped my fingers under her shirt, touching her soft and warm skin. My hand moved across her belly, my thumb touching her belly button. Her stomach tensed and she gasped. She was fucking ticklish.

  Slowly, I moved both hands up her shirt, grabbing it, wanting the damn thing off her body. Winter lifted her arms and her shirt went up and over her head. It dropped to the floor. Her breasts were beautiful, pushing so heavily against her white laced bra. There was something innocent about the color white and it completely went against everything that was happening with me and her.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her tits. I wanted to rip her bra off and devour her.

  Winter let out a cry of pain and I opened my hands. That’s when I saw the bruise on her left shoulder. My left hand touched her belly again and I spun her so her shoulder was facing me.

  God, her fucking tits were amazing. They way they bounced when I moved her…

  “What happened?” I asked. “Did one of those fuckers touch you?”

  Winter looked at me, her face flushed. “No. You did it.”

  “Me? What?”

  I thought about the night before. Being drunk. Did something happen? Did I hurt her? No fucking way. I’d never touch a woman like that. Not after everything I’d been through. No way…

  “Tripp?”

  I shook my head. “What? What happened? How did I…”

  Winter turned to face me again. Her tits were calling to me, but I forced to keep my eyes to hers. It was killing me from the inside.

  “When we went into the house,” she said. “You saw Harlan on the couch and pushed me out of the way. I fell into the wall and hit my shoulder.”

  “Jesus Christ, darling,” I said. I touched just below the bruise. “I’m so sorry. I’d never…”

  “I believe you,” she said. “You didn’t mean to. You were protecting me.”

  The bruise took up most of her shoulder. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to it. Winter jumped, winced, and groaned. Her hand shot to the back of my head, her fingers digging.

  My left hand was still against her stomach. If I moved my hand up, I could cup her tit. Rip it right from her bra. Feel the warmth and heaviness. My thumb teasing her nipple, feeling it getting hard. Better yet, I could move my hand down. Shove my hand right into her jeans and panties and find her wet slit. She’d be wet for me. She’d be wet for my touch. But she wouldn’t be prepared for what I wanted to do to her.

  I gritted my teeth and broke away from her again.

  I walked forward, my back to her. “Put your shirt back on.”

  “What?”

  “You fucking heard me. Enough.”

  I rushed to the bathroom door and slammed the door shut. I went to the sink and turned on the cold water. I leaned down and considered drowning myself in. I considered opening my jeans and stuffing my dick into the sink, too.

  This was bullshit. This had to stop.

  I couldn’t touch her again. I couldn’t kiss her. I couldn’t fuck her.

  I had to keep to the plan.

  Just keep her alive.

  12.

  (Winter)

  I lost track of the days because they all started to blend together. The first night was the worst though. Tripp ordered food and went to pick it up. He left his gun under the pillow on the bed and told me to kill anyone who wasn’t him.

  We ate in silence. We barely talked. I lay in the bed that night as he stood on the balcony. Part of me wanted to wake up and find him next to me, but that didn’t happen. He slept on the floor.

  It then became rinse and repeat.

  We left the motel to walk for food, to do laundry, and I got Tripp to break down and actually take me to the beach. That lasted all of twenty minutes and consisted of him constantly looking around, not enjoying himself. Yeah, we weren’t there on a vacation. We were there to hide and survive. I was fully clothed, couldn’t enjoy the atmosphere. I locked myself in the bathroom after that for an hour and cried. When I emerged, Tripp was on the balcony again, on his cell phone. One hand to his ear, the other waving like crazy.

  He was pissed.

  Probably about taking care of me.

  I had been nothing but a liability from day one - not just to Tripp either.

  That night I considered bolting. If it meant stealing his car, then I would do it. I could get on the highway and go east. As far east as I could make it before I’d figure out a plan or get caught and killed.

  I fell asleep with intentions of doing just that. When I woke a few hours later, Tripp was at the door. Sitting at the door, asleep. One leg up, a hat down over his face, his keys in his hand. It was like he knew what I was thinking. He was fucking with me even worse than when he talked to me and touched me.

  The worst part of it all was feeling stuck. I didn’t want to go home because there was no home for me. The converted garage was owned by the MC. It had been Rocky’s place and now the MC had their hands on it. Which was fine. This wasn’t my dream house or dream town. I was like a wave in the ocean; just going with the flow. Moving along, pushing to the shore, pulling back, doing it again and again.

  I was outside on the balcony watching the water, a nice breeze blowing from the side. I begged my mind to slip away. It started to do just that when I heard the door slide open.

  Tripp then stood next to me. Black jeans. A white shirt that seemed unfair to fit his body the way it did. For the love of everything, I could see the ripples of his stomach when the wind pushed the shirt tight to his body! I couldn’t reme
mber the last time I felt really turned on and really able to be pleasured. There was a difference between coming and feeling good while coming.

  We stood there for a little bit.

  “At night,” Tripp said.

  “What?”

  “That’s when we’ll go down and walk around. I promise. I know you want to go down there right now. But I don’t want to risk anything. I’ve been talking to Stoney and he’s had guys around the house for days. No sign.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “Do you?”

  I smiled. “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re going to be seeing him tomorrow anyway.”

  “Oh?”

  “I have to fight Harlan.”

  I heard the words and froze for a few seconds. “Wait. You have to fight Harlan?”

  “Yeah. When I was there the first time, he suggested it. He wants to see me fight. I figured it would only be fair. Plus, I haven’t had a fight since…”

  I saw Tripp turn his head.

  I reached for his arm. “Hey. What happened?”

  He pulled away. “Nothing. It doesn’t really matter.”

  He started to move toward the door and I scrambled to do anything to keep him near me. My brain ran fast.

  “Beer?” I called out.

  “What?”

  “You and me. Beer. I mean, let’s get something to drink. Beer and pizza? Something to eat? It’s almost the end of the day anyway, right? We can hang out, have a couple drinks, maybe talk?”

  “Now you want to talk?”

  “If it breaks up this tension,” I said. “I hate this, Tripp. I know you don’t want to be here. Neither do I. So… you can ask me anything.”

  “Did you ever fuck anyone else in the MC?” he asked, so quick and bold, as though it had been burning in his mind for a while.

  “No,” I said. “I’m not that kind of person, Tripp. I haven’t been with… I’m not that kind of person.”

  Tripp didn’t make a move, didn’t change his expression. “I have one more question.”

  “Okay.”

  “Plain or pepperoni?”

  I smiled. “Pepperoni works for me.”

  And a side of you, Tripp.

  13.

  (Tripp)

  I threw the crust into the box and let out a groan. I was full. We sat on the floor, my back against the wall, Winter across from me, legs bent, hugging her knees. There was a pizza and a half gone and we were well into our second six pack.

  “You can’t waste the crust,” she said.

  “Like fuck I can’t,” I said.

  “You must have grown up with parents and money.”

  “You grew up on the street?”

  “Close enough.”

  I took a swig of beer. Seven in and my mind was well beyond thinking logical. The most important thing was that I knew where the gun was. Just in case anything happened.

  “Tell me about it,” I said. “You want to be an open book tonight, right?”

  “Yeah, right,” Winter said. “I don’t know. My father was the one who tried to raise me. My mother left long before I could remember her. At one point my father tried to convince me she was dead because I guess it’s easier to believe a parent is dead rather than believe that they just abandoned you.”

  “Did that work for you?”

  “No. I knew the truth. My mother was this phantom and my father never let it go. He was a drunk. He lost jobs every week. We had no electricity. Got kicked out of apartments and houses. There were times when he’d wake me up in the middle of the night and we’d have to leave to avoid paying the rent.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “What makes you think something happened?”

  “I can see it in those blue eyes, darling,” I said.

  Those fucking blue eyes.

  They were staring right at me. They were big, beautiful, and goddammit, they deserved something so much better than all this happening.

  “He was stabbed to death when I was sixteen.”

  “Christ.”

  “He got involved with gambling and had some serious debts. He thought he could work cards to make things right. He owed a lot and was killed. Then I found out he was going to offer me as payment. My… innocence.”

  “Fucking asshole,” I muttered.

  “So be it,” Winter said. “So I was on my own. I survived. I moved around. I tried not to trust anyone. I made a friend, Angie. She was a stripper and bartender. I started out behind the bar. Then there was a night the owner of the club begged me to help out when he was short a girl. So I took a few shots of whiskey and got up there. It was like one in the morning and everyone was just throwing money around. They wouldn’t remember me if they saw me the next day. I made more that night than I did an entire month bartending.”

  “You don’t do that anymore?”

  “No. Not for a while. Years.”

  “Because of the MC?”

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  We both finished our beers and I leaned over to the small fridge and pulled it open. I grabbed two more, assuming Winter would need one. Next time I looked at her, she was teary eyed. I told myself I couldn’t comfort her again, not when we were damn drunk.

  I twisted off the cap and handed her the beer. She took it and drank half the bottle in one big drink.

  “Feel better?” I asked.

  “Hardly,” she said. She then put her left foot forward and kicked at my foot. “Tell me your story, Tripp.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to know. You’re protecting me, which doesn’t make sense. You owe someone favors, which doesn’t seem like your style. And you’re going to fight someone from the Red Aces MC for the hell of it.”

  “First off, there are no favors,” I said. “I’m supposed to be dead right now. But that’s a different story. You want to know about my life? I was forced to fight to survive.”

  “Survive what?”

  “Whatever guy that was done fucking my mother.”

  The room fell silent. I couldn’t believe I actually said that to Winter, but whatever. She wanted to know the story, then I’d give it to her.

  “That’s how she survived. She’d fuck anyone that could bring some food or throw her a few bucks. Trust me, it’s not a sob story though, she couldn’t get her life together. She had family and refused to talk to them. But me? I was always just there. And I became a punching bag around the age of ten. I’ll never forget it. This fat guy in the kitchen, digging through the fridge. Shirtless with a set of lips tattooed above his left nipple. He turned to me and smiled. ‘You wanna fight me, kid?’ he asked. I shook my head. The guy then made a fist and swung at me. He cracked me in the shoulder. It hurt. He walked away. I never saw that guy again. But my shoulder bruised for a week. Then it happened again with a different guy. He was bigger, stronger, and he smacked me in the face. For no damn reason. Then another beat me. Like I was his own kid or something. Another one pummeled me until I passed out. My mother then told me in a drunken state that I needed to swing back. One of our neighbors, a guy everyone called Mutt, had a punching bag in his living room. He was an old school boxer kind of guy. Won some fights and money, then lost it all to booze. But he knew what went on with my mother. He taught me how to fight. I’d sneak out of the apartment and go to his. He’d stand there with a bottle of vodka in one hand and scream at me. Yelling what punches to throw, how to throw them, how to set my feet for the most power. I had long arms but they were skinny. Mutt’s cousin owned a boxing gym and Mutt would take me there after school. I’d meet him there and I’d lift weights and box. I’d go until I puked or fell over. Then Mutt would toss me five bucks and tell me to get as much meat as I could with it.”

  I paused and sipped my drink. Damn, it had been a while since I dusted off this little gem of history. I’ll never forget the way it all happened. Mutt’s missing front teeth. The yellow ring around his eyes. His dark skin. His boney figure. And
his rough voice.

  “Come on, motherfucker, hit the bag. Don’t be a pussy.”

  “One night after I was done, some guy took my five bucks. Snatched it right out of my hand. I didn’t eat that night. I was weak, tired, and everything hurt. My mother had some guy over and it only made things worse. I swore right then I would forever fight. The next day I got my five bucks from Mutt and I waited outside. The same damn guy came by and tried to take my money again. You know what I did?”

  “You fought him and won?” Winter asked, looking hopeful, like there was some white knight at the end of this story.

  “I broke his fucking jaw,” I said. “And then beat him until he passed out. I took all his money.”

  Silence again. I warned her who I was. A thug. Never did I pick a fight that wasn’t coming. But when I won, I took what I wanted.

  “It was how I survived,” I said. “Fight, win. Fight, win. And when one of my mother’s fuck buddies tried touching me, I broke his wrist. Another guy, I knocked two teeth out. Anyone who came near me got their ass beat. Right down to Mutt.”

  “You beat up Mutt?”

  I nodded. “He told me I was being an asshole. Told me I needed to control myself or I was going to end up in jail. We argued and he challenged me to a fight. So I fought him in the ring, with gloves, and I knocked him out. He came to and I kissed his forehead. I told him I loved him like the father I never had. Then I left for good. I was done. Out. Gone. I hit the streets and fought for survival. That’s how I met Aldo. He promised me a shot at something real. Like I could go pro. Get on a real circuit and earn. But that didn’t happen at all. I made Aldo too much money.”

  “So why did you stay?”

  I didn’t respond. I knew why. I just didn’t want to talk about it.

  “You had to stay,” Winter whispered. “Just like being here. You have to be here. He’s got you, Tripp. Why?”

  “I’m done talking,” I said. “You have the story. Back to you, darling. Think about who would take out Rocky and want to come after you.”

  “There’s so many,” Winter said. “The MC is not friendly.”

  “But why you?”

  “Maybe someone thinks I know something I’m not supposed to.”