Fighting to Forgive (Fighting Series)

by J. B. Salsbury

  For the first time since my little pow-wow with Gibbs, my heart rate slows. He wants to return the favor. He doesn’t owe me a thing. But if I was standing in his shoes, I know he’d do it for me.

  “Fine. Let’s do this.” I turn and head for the octagon, reminding myself that Layla and Axelle are my priority.

  Jonah’s wounds will heal, but the scars my woman carries never will. And the scandalous crap out there is a jagged scalpel that cuts deep.

  They can’t take any more. And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure they don’t have to.

  ~*~

  Five minutes later, Jonah and I stand face-to-face in the octagon. Headgear, mouth-guard, and gloves in place, we bump fists. It’s on.

  This isn’t about training. This is about burning shit off. Rex hangs nearby, probably to jump in if this gets ugly. And the way I’m feeling right now, shit’s definitely going to get ugly.

  My eyes fix on Jonah’s, and my fists burn to make contact. Right now, he’s not my friend. He’s the answer to finding some fucking peace.

  We circle around each other, and he waits for me to make the first move. Muscles clenched tight, my mind goes back to the conference room. The headlines. Layla’s body exposed. The UFL’s plan to capitalize on her embarrassment.

  I throw my left fist. He dodges. I balance my weight. Flashes of Layla, her big brown eyes shining with tears, fill my mind’s eye. He moves. His arms wrap around my waist. My back hits the mat. I push with my leg, rage fueling my body.

  He positions to lock my shoulders. “Fucking shit, man.” His grunted words sound strangled against the force of my hold.

  Visions of a faceless man taking Layla against her will flood my range of view.

  I flip on him. He’s down. I take full mount and rain punches to his headgear. A tiny voice whispers that this is dangerous. That Jonah can’t hold back once he gets pushed too far. And that’s exactly what I want.

  I picture Layla alone at sixteen. Scared. Pregnant. Abandoned.

  Anger, frustration, and helplessness swirl behind my chest. I swing my arms, kick my legs, and lock down on limbs. Our movements are a blur. Nothing is coherent, only the sound of our pained grunts filling the silence.

  Someone calls to me. I ignore the interruption and push my body harder. More hits. Tighter holds. Another yell. My fists fly. Power infuses every cell. I’m lost in a fog that feels so fucking good.

  Left-right-left-right

  I’m on fire. Flying high and nowhere close to being finished. The violence rips through my body, doling out punishment. No one will fuck with her again.

  I lose my breath. My throat constricts. The voice yells, but it’s distant. My arms are immobile. I’m pinned down. I thrash, fighting to get free.

  And then it happens.

  I’m fifteen again. Knocked from my bed and kidnapped. Blindfolded and thrown into a car. And all with the permission of the one person who’s supposed to protect me.

  The fear is so real. A guttural roar rips from my throat. I throw my body forward, breaking free and swinging hard.

  Another voice. Shut the fuck up. I throw a punch. Then another. I hit the floor, face down. Legs, arms, neck, stomach. I can’t move.

  “Get off.” I buck against my captors.

  The voice repeats until the words break through the haze. “Breathe, brother. Breathe.”

  I push and arch my back. The alien rage thrives in search of release.

  “This is fucked, Jonah.” Rex’s voice is close, but muffled.

  “Shut the fuck up, Rex. Give him some time.”

  My muscles kick and tremble. I take a deep breath. Blinking, I remember where I am.

  How the hell?

  I’m on my stomach. Jonah’s across my shoulders with my hands locked behind my back. And from what I can tell, the dick holding my legs is Rex.

  I growl and pull to free my arms.

  “Calm down, dude. I’ll let you go when you calm your ass down.” Jonah’s words carry a hint of warning. He’s not messing around.

  I take in a few deep breaths to slow my heart, and my muscles relax. What just happened?

  “I’m good.” I suck down a shaky breath. “I’m good.”

  “All right, Rex… on three…” Jonah counts and they push to standing.

  I roll to my back, one knee up, and one hand on my heaving chest. Jonah and Rex are standing a couple yards away, alert and ready. Seriously, what happened?

  I push up to sitting and toss my headgear and mouth guard aside. “Why the hell did you dicks—oh shit!”

  Rex’s left eye is swollen shut, and there’s a huge cut beneath it.

  Jonah’s headgear’s off. He steps close, eyebrows slammed down over his eyes. “You don’t remember?”

  “Remember? I thought we were sparring.” I motion between us. “Why’d you fuckers double team me?”

  Jonah drops his gaze to the floor and shakes his head.

  I look to Rex. “What?”

  “You went fucking nuts, man. You wouldn’t let up on Jonah’s neck. I jumped in, pulled you off, you came after me.”

  No shit? No shit!

  I rub my temples. This can’t be happening. How could I go wild on my friends and not remember? I was so lost in the haze, swinging blindly. Rex wasn’t wearing anything to protect his head. Fuck. I could’ve killed him.

  I feel the blood drain from my face. I’m lightheaded as I try to make sense of my scrambled thoughts. “I did?”

  “Fuck yeah, you did. Some freaky shit. It’s like you weren’t there,” Rex says.

  “Blake, dude, what the fuck is up with you lately?” Jonah’s words aren’t pissed, but concerned.

  I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “I told you. Something sets me off.” I shrug. “I can’t control it.”

  Just. Like. My. Dad.

  Jonah gives me a hand and pulls me to my feet. I move to Rex, but have a hard time looking at his face. I can’t believe I did that.

  I hold out my gloved hand. “I’m sorry, man.” Nothing I could say would be enough. “I feel like shit.”

  He shakes my hand. “No need for apologies, bro.” He licks at the trail of blood that made its way to his mouth. “I like it.”

  Jonah chuckles at my side. “Crazy motherfucker.”

  “Still, you should have Doc Z check that out. Might need a stitch.”

  He wipes at his eye. “Nah, nothing a little ice won’t fix. You guys cool?”

  Jonah and I nod.

  “The Fade is fucked come fight night. That’s all I’m sayin’.” Rex walks away shaking his head.

  There’s something I should say. An explanation as to why I lost my mind back there. “Shit’s getting worse.”

  “What?”

  “My temper. Think I’m turning into my old man.” A wave of nausea turns my stomach.

  “Can’t turn into anything you don’t want.”

  I sure as shit don’t want to be like my dad, but this is happening more and more, and I have zero control. Now I know how Jonah must feel. “How do you lock it down? Keep from flippin’ out?”

  “Before Raven, I couldn’t. But now it’s easy. I think about her, our baby. Too much to lose to go all psycho on a fool.” A wicked smile tips his lips. “That’s how I kept from killin’ your ass just now.”

  I’ve got a woman, but bringing her to mind only fuels the beast inside rather than subdue it. This is so fucked up.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll give that a try.” My voice sounds flat in my ears. “I’ve got to run.” I pick up my gear and head to the locker room. Before I get a few feet from the octagon, Jonah calls my name.

  I turn around and he’s gripping the chain link. “We’re even now.”

  The corner of my mouth ticks with a grin. “We’ve always been.”

  He gives me a chin lift that I return, and I head off in search for some peace. Something to ground me while the tornado rages in my head. I make a plan to swing by my house before I go to Layla’s.

/>   A session alone with the music should do the job.

  If not, I’m royally fucked.

  Twenty-three

  Layla

  “Hey, Mom?” Axelle’s words come from behind me as she heads from her room toward the kitchen. “Would it be okay if—whoa! Are you cooking?” She peers over my shoulder to the cutting board, where I’m cutting a bok choy.

  “Yeah, don’t sound so surprised.” I throw a teasing smile her way. “I got paid and thought I’d make dinner for dinner.” I shrug, waiting to gauge her reaction before I tell her about the evening’s guest.

  “Cool.” She drags a chair out from the table and sits. “Um… in two weeks there’s a dance thing. It’s one of those girls-ask-the-boys deals. I think I know who I want to ask but I don’t know if I should.”

  Two things hit me at once. One, my daughter is asking for my advice. And two, she’s opening up to me about a boy. The combination of these realizations makes me smile into my shoulder.

  I school my expression and give her my attention with a casual turn of my body. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.” She pulls at her bottom lip. “I guess I’m afraid it might change things between me and him.”

  “Does this boy like you?”

  “As a friend, yeah.” A slight blush colors her cheeks. “But more than a friend? I don’t know.”

  “But, you like him.” My lips pull up at the edges. “More than a friend?”

  “It’s hard to say, I mean, how can I tell? I like hanging out with him, but I don’t know. It’s confusing.” She drops her head to the table. “Ugh.”

  I sit across from her at the table. “Tell him that. Explain what you just explained to me, that you want to go with him, but that you value the friendship and don’t want to ruin it. Then, see what he says. My guess? Killian would be honored—”

  “Mom!” Her eyes are wide and her cheeks flame.

  “What? You didn’t think I’d figure that out?”

  She smiles and shakes her head. “So you think I should ask him?”

  “Absolutely. Just tell him you want to go as friends.”

  After exhaling a long breath, she nods. “You’re right.”

  “I’ve invited Blake over for dinner.” My attempt at casual comes out in a rushed mumble. I clear my throat. “He should be here soon.”

  “Ah, so that’s what all this cooking is about. You’re trying to impress your boyfriend.”

  Her teasing is payback, and my face heats. I go back to my food prep, hiding my immature reaction. “Yes and no.”

  “What’re you making?”

  “Stir fry.”

  She hangs out with me while I chop, and we talk about school, laughing together as she shares her life with me. My chest is tight with emotion, evidence that things are looking up.

  When the slicing is done, I place the wok over the burner and mix the sauce. A knock sounds at the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Axelle chirps and skips off to let Blake in.

  “Hey, kiddo.” His deep voice blasts a shiver along my skin. He tousles Axelle’s hair as he passes her and steps into the kitchen. His heated stare warms me in an instant. “Mouse.”

  “Hey.” I close the space between us to give him a hug.

  He wraps his strong arms around my waist, pulling me to my toes. “What’s going on in here? It looks amazing.”

  Smiling, I pull back, but keep my hands locked behind his neck. “I’m making dinner.”

  His expression goes soft in a way that I feel in the most sensitive places. “That right?”

  “Yeah.” As close as he is, I notice shadows beneath his eyes that weren’t there earlier. I run my thumb across his cheek. “You okay?”

  He drops his gaze. “I’m great.”

  Why don’t I believe him?

  “Did something happen with Taylor after I left?”

  “No. I’m fine, really.” He lifts his chin and smiles. “Yo, Axelle?”

  She turns toward us, a sly grin on her lips. “Yeah?”

  “You cool with me dating your mom?” His eyes are still locked on mine.

  She giggles. “Yeah, I’m cool.”

  “Fantastic.” He leans in and drops a feather-light kiss on my lips. “Stoked that you cooked for me, sweetheart.” One more kiss to my forehead and he backs away. “I’m starved.”

  My legs are wobbly, like they always are after Blake gets close and whispers sweetly. He keeps his hands at my waist until I’m able to stay upright, and then heads deeper into the small kitchen.

  The three of us hang out together while I sauté the chicken and put the finishing touches on the food. It isn’t long before we’re huddled around the table, eating and laughing.

  “Your boy Killian’s a quick learner. Taught him a complicated leg lock today. He picked it up, no problem,” Blake says to Axelle before forking a bite into his mouth.

  “He’s not my boy.” She ducks her head and pushes her food around the plate.

  Blake’s gaze travels from me to Axelle and back. He knows. I can see it in his eyes. I shove a bite full of chicken and broccoli in my mouth to avoid giving her away.

  “Not your boy…” His words trail off as he waits for Axelle’s reaction.

  Her food is now the most interesting thing in the room, and she looks at it intently.

  “Huh.” He drops his fork and leans back in his chair. “What’s up with you and Killer?”

  This gets her attention. Her head flies back, and her eyes are wide. “What? Nothing… er… what?”

  A slow and very sexy smile crawls across his face. “Damn.”

  “Axelle and Killian are friends, Blake.” I shove another full bite of food into my mouth. At least the incessant chewing will keep me from smiling.

  “Friends.” He narrows his eyes on Axelle. “That’s too bad. The kid’s crazy about you.”

  Elbows on the table, she props her body forward. “Really?”

  “I asked him how you two were getting along while we were working out the other day. He stuttered and dropped a dumbbell. Damn near broke his foot.”

  I sit back and watch Axelle and Blake go back and forth. She’s so comfortable. In our old life, she’d never open up like this. Especially not with Stewart.

  “I was thinking about asking him to the Valentine’s Day dance.”

  Blake’s smile drops. “Valentine’s Day? When’s that?”

  She laughs, her eyes darting between Blake and me. “February fourteenth.”

  I busy myself by clearing the dishes from the table. I don’t want Blake to feel pressured by a stupid holiday that was invented by greeting card and chocolate manufacturers. We’re adults, after all. Valentine’s Day is for romantics and young lovers. A twinge of disappointment pinches my chest. Stewart’s idea of celebrating any holiday was to get what he wanted from me. I wonder what it would be like to celebrate feelings with someone I really like. To dress up, go out to a romantic dinner, feed each other bites of something expensive and chocolaty.

  I’m jarred from my thoughts when firm hands grip my hips from behind and hot breath at my ear. “That was delicious, Mouse. She’s in her room.” His lips kiss a trail from my ear down my neck in an unhurried tease. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

  Tilting my head, he continues to suck and lick at my shoulder.

  “What time does she go to bed?” Another pass of his warm tongue. “I’m ready for dessert.”

  “I uh…” The combination of his mouth and his growled words against my heated flesh have me writhing and unable to speak.

  “Yeah, you’re ready, too.” He bites down, pulling at my skin with a deep suck and then releasing it. “My Mouse is hungry.”

  A whimper drips from my parted lips. “Yes.”

  At the sound of Axelle’s door opening, Blake’s gone. The cool air of his absence hits my back. I grip the counter’s edge to catch my breath. The water’s still running in the sink. I shake off the fog of arousal as Axelle makes it to the kitchen.

/>   “I’ll be back in an hour or two.” She grabs the keys and her purse from the counter. “I’m meeting Killian for coffee. I’m going to ask him.”

  Blake’s leaning casually against the fridge, his eyes fixed on her. How can he look so unaffected when I’m a walking poster child for sexual frustration? His gaze swings to mine, the fiery green giving him away. Well, that’s a relief.

  “Sure thing and uh… good luck.” I wink at her and resume my dish duty.

  “Later, Blake.”

  “Later, kiddo.”

  The second the door shuts, I flip around and Blake stalks toward me. We crash together. His lips move against mine, and he grips my backside. I hop up to wrap myself around him. Arms around his neck, legs around his waist, I grind down into the firm bulge of his pants. He growls deep and moves us down the hallway to my bedroom. Our tongues lash at each other, hungry, searching, and needy. He doesn’t toss me to the bed, but drops a knee and climbs on, our bodies never breaking contact. I gasp for breath.

  “This okay?” he asks, his chest heaving against mine.

  “Off.” I tug his shirt over his head.

  I pop the button of his pants, shoving them, along with his boxers, down his legs. I’m crazy with the urgency to feel the heat of his skin as he covers me with his weight.

  “Arms up.” His command pierces my lust-laden brain, and I comply.

  He tosses my shirt to the floor, followed by my bra. My leggings and thong are all that’s left, and those quickly find their place in the pile. Our legs tangle together. His hands grip my hair, and he kisses me deep and hard. Yes. I dig my fingers into his biceps, pulling him to me, needing more of him, all of him.

  “Blake…”

  “Fuck yeah.” He buries himself inside me with a long, powerful thrust.

  My back arches off the bed with a moan that bursts from my throat. Nothing has ever felt this good.

  He pulls almost all the way out, only to drive in deep. “Mouse, are we okay?”

  “I’m okay. Just… more…” My words dissolve into a groan as he drives into me again.

  He tucks his knees beneath him. Hooking my waist, he pulls me up. Our faces just inches apart, he dips his chin and stares at me with predatory desire. My stomach clenches with need. He takes one nipple into his mouth. With silken thrashes of his tongue, my orgasm builds and pushes for release.