Fight Like A Girl

by A. D. Herrick

  With my wistful thoughts securely locked away, I focused myself in the here and now, examining the woman before me.

  There were no marks on her body, no tale-tell signs that she had been touched, abused. There was no discoloration, no hidden bruises or contusions. Every exposed inch of her creamy flesh was absolute perfection. From her tightly drawn shoulders down to the enticing curve of her defined calves. Her narrow waist was tucked in begging for my hands. I knew from experience how well my hands fit within the indecent curve, as though they were made for me and me alone. She was temptation in its rawest form. A temptation I had to resist, for both of our sakes.

  Now was not the time to think about how sexy G looked dancing around the lightweight bag as she threw herself into every punch. It was not the time to imagine how she would look beneath me, a sheen of sweat covering her body as I hovered above her, her dark hair fanned out across the pillow on my bed.

  What I needed to focus on was getting to the bottom of my girl’s troubles. Yeah, she was my girl. She may not know it, but she was. She always has been and always would be. Nothing would change that.

  G may not have had any physical marks of abuse but I knew that there was more than one type of abuse. The physical may have left behind corporeal reminders. But the emotional, that was even harder to spot. There were no visual wounds one could identify with the naked eye, only small signs and physical cues, all of which G was exhibiting.

  With her head cast down and shoulder hunched forward, I knew something was going on. I knew G. I knew my girl. She didn't need to tell me with her words. Her body told me everything I needed to know. One thing I was an expert on was G’s body.

  The way she attacked the bag in front of her told me everything I needed to know. It demonstrated just how unsettled she really was. It gave me all the information I needed, filling my stomach with a sinking weight. The rigid bands around my chest constricted, tightening around my lungs, at the thought of someone hurting her, causing her pain. Rage simmered in my veins, searching for an outlet. A target. Finding none.

  I watched the woman in front of me move around the black leather bag. She reminded me of the young girl I took under my wing six years ago, shoulders drawn tight, eyes cast down.

  Only she wasn’t the same.

  Somehow time had changed her, changed us. The young girl I once knew was all knees and elbows. Her thick dark hair an unruly halo hiding her wide doe eyes, the color of uncut sapphires. Her stick-thin frame was so narrow it could barely hold her up.

  The woman in front of me was an entirely different being. G had blossomed from a girl into a woman right before my eyes. Her board straight figure morphing into deadly curves, dangerous yet intoxicating, that left me panting after her like a dog in heat. I wanted to trace each delicate curve of her body with my tongue, licking up the salty remnants of her workout, one soul melting lick at a time.

  Every day she paraded around the gym in her barely-there bike shorts and tight spandex sports bra, that did nothing to hide the swell of her ample breast, blinded to the effect she had on those around her. She was pure unadulterated perfection. A temptation.

  And every day I felt that brotherly love I had for her slip away. In its place bore a new type of affection and admiration. One I wasn’t sure I felt comfortable with. It terrified me to my core.

  She terrified me.

  Emotional attachments in the Folds were considered a weakness. I already had one with my mother. Any association with me was liable to bring trouble. I couldn’t afford to put G at risk. But there was a part of me that didn’t care. The voice in the back of my mind screaming that it was worth it, she was worth it. Every day that voice grew louder. My resolve weakening. I was hanging on by a tendril.

  G cocked her head to the side shooting me a small teasing smile. The slight curve of her lips hit me square in the chest sending a surge of need straight through me. The light in her eyes blinding me. So much trust and hope in that one look. It was enough to bring a grown man to his knees and I was no exception.

  That smile alone was almost enough for me to say fuck it and let the cards fall where they may. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and drag her back to the office, bend her over my desk, and claim her once and for all. My mother’s perfect timing was the bucket of ice water I needed to cool the heated thoughts running through my mind before I did something I couldn't take back. I wouldn't regret it. No. I would never regret making her mine. That was the problem.

  Now was not the time.

  Not yet.

  My mother, God love her soul, was of no use. She paraded around the gym doting on all the patrons working out. Her louder than life personality and kind heart made it hard to deny her anything. Well, almost anything. There was one thing I would resist. I had no choice. My mother claimed herself a matchmaker and had set her sights on G and me. There was no amount of protesting adequate enough to deter her. But it didn’t mean I didn’t try. Tonight wasn’t about G though. Tonight wasn’t about humor or another one of my mother’s matchmaking schemes. The look of worry on my mother's face was enough to stop me in my tracks. Panic filled my chest its acidic taste coated the back of my throat.

  “Hijo, I'm telling you. I'll be alright. I just wanted to let you know.” The warm smile on her face did nothing to comfort me. Her eyes told it all. The fine lines of worry etched in her withered flesh. Despite her protest, she wasn’t alright. She was worried.

  Someone had been snooping around her place late at night. Time and time again I had tried to convince her that the Folds were no place for a woman of her age. My mother would hear none of it. She refused to leave the Folds, refusing to go without me.

  Time.

  I just needed time.

  “Mamá, I don't like the thought of you being alone. The streets are rougher now than they were back in your time.”

  Waving her hand in the air she batted away my concern. “I'm not the one that should be worried. It's the little pendejo that needs to be worried.”

  “Did you see who it was at least? Did you recognize anything about him?”

  “No, the little bastardo got away before I could get out the door. I looked around and didn't see anything missing. I think it was just a little pervertido trying to sneak a peek. I'm sure he got more than he was bargaining for looking through my windows. I sleep in the nude.” she said with a look of finality as though catching an eye full of her nude was punishment enough.

  I shuddered at the thought of seeing my mother naked. That's a sight no son should ever have to witness or imagine.

  “Mamá, don’t go chasing trouble. I want you to keep your doors locked and call me if you get any more visits. You hear me?”

  “You're such a good Hijo.” she praised patting my cheek gently. “I see our little Ginger is here working out.” The calculating gleam in her eyes was impossible to miss. Gone was the worry of her peeping tom. Mamá had spotted G working out on the other side of the gym. Her little matchmaker mind was hard at work. I could practically see the cogs turning in her mind.

  “She's always here. You know that.” I tried for nonchalance pretending to be unaffected by the sight of the woman behind me wearing practically nothing as she dealt out hits to the hanging bag in front of her.

  “She loves you, Hijo. You need to bring her to dinner.”

  Taking a step back I ran my hands through my hair nervously. “I don't know what you're talking about. She's like a sister to me.”

  “Is that what you tell yourself? Does it help you sleep better at night? Any fool can see the way the two if you look at one another. Invite her to dinner. It would be good for her to get away from that piece of shit hermano of hers and it would do my heart some good. An old woman like me should not be worried about her son’s happiness when it's right in front of his face.” Her guilt trip game was strong, there was no denying it.

  “I'll think about it.”

  “You can think about it all you like. But if you don't make a move soon it look
s like someone else will.” My mother's brows rose expectantly glancing past me to the corner where G was working out.

  Glancing behind me I followed her line of sight.

  I saw red.

  Jealousy and possessiveness cloaked around me like a second skin.

  “If you don't take a stand soon someone else is and it will be no one's fault but your own, Hijo.” Her elbow nudged against me, prompting me to make a move.

  “You're right,” I muttered, hating admitting it. Hating how right she was.

  “I know I’m right. I’m your Mamá. No one knows you better than me.”

  With the promise of inviting G to dinner Mamá finally relented and released me to go return to coaching G.

  I watched from across the room with narrowed eyes as Shank guided G around the bag, his hands resting on her shoulders in a display of ownership. Rage burned in my stomach at the sight, jaw clenched, hands fisted at my side.

  As if sensing my eyes on him, Shank turned and caught my eye. The cocky bastard shot me an arrogant wink before squeezing G’s shoulders whispering something in her ear his eyes on me the entire time. A silent challenge.

  G was completely oblivious to the standoff going on around her. Her gorgeous head just stood there and nodded along to whatever Shank had whispered in her ear, her long dark ponytail bobbing along obediently.

  I didn’t know what he said to her.

  I didn’t care.

  He knew what he was doing. He knew he was playing a deadly game. A game which I intended to win. I marched in their direction in long angry strides. G was lost in her workout, oblivious to the tension building around her. With a slick smile and shake of his head, Shank turned away leaving G. My eyes followed him across the gym, arms folded across my chest.

  Soft sweet grunts from G’s lips pulled my attention to her slim, sweat-slick frame and away from the arrogant asshole smirking on the other side of the building.

  There wasn’t a part of the woman in front of me that wasn’t perfection. Her pink rosebud lips parted onto a glorious ‘oh’ as I called out to her, encouraging her to loosen up. Her azure eyes turned on me pulling me under her spell.

  Her deep blue eyes were windows to her soul, sucking you in, holding you captive. When she turned them on you, I swear, you could hear the angels singing in the heavens. I was drawn in like a moth to a flame. I couldn’t look away.

  Innocence wrapped around her slender dancer's frame, making her that much more tantalizing. No matter how hard she worked out she would never shake the feminine curves of her body and I didn’t want her to.

  She was sex and sin all wrapped in one tight little package. She was everything right with the world and I was everything that was wrong.

  I knew I shouldn’t look at her the way I did, but I couldn’t help it. She was a siren. I was unable to ignore her call.

  Her mile-long legs proudly on display left my imagination running wild. Even with her long, thick chocolate and honey-colored hair piled on her head, the sweaty strands sticking to her silky alabaster skin, she was a vision. I wanted to lick the sweat from her body and then give her a whole new reason to be breathless.

  All I could think about was having her long lean legs wrapped around my face. I could practically taste her on my lips. I imagine she tasted like dew coated strawberries with a hint of cream. Absolute perfection.

  I fought against the primal urge to take her, claiming her as my own. It was a daily battle, one I knew I'd one day lose. Every day brought me closer and closer to that breaking point. I knew it was coming. I knew it wouldn’t be long. My only concern was how many lives would be lost when it happened. How many bodies would be slain for me to claim my prize?

  I'd break the neck of any man who thought of looking at her wrong. Hell, I had. Several in fact. None of which she was aware. G could never know the monster I truly was. I couldn’t take the look in her eyes if she saw me for what I was, just below the surface. I don’t think I could live without seeing the love and adoration in her gaze as she peered up at me.

  Oh, she thought she was hiding it. But I didn’t miss the heated glances she cast in my direction. I didn’t miss the way her eyes followed me across the room or the hunger in her stare. It was there for all to see. How did I know? Because it was the same way I stared at her. I knew because as much as her eyes followed me, my own were trained on her. Only, I was much smoother about my approach.

  Shank was quickly working his way onto the list of bodies that trailed behind this woman and my innate need to claim and protect her. If she knew the monster I was just below the surface, she would think twice about coming here. She would run away while she still had the chance.

  They called me Chaos for a reason. I had earned the title. I wore it proudly like a badge of honor. I left a trail of destruction in my wake, never taking any prisoners. I held no remorse for the lives lost.

  The ground I sat on was neutral. Sure, I trained fighters for the MC’s and I was good at it. But that wasn’t how I earned the ground the gym stood on. That wasn’t even close to how I earned the respect and loyalty of those around me. I was a Freelance executioner for the local MC’s. That was what had earned me my place, allowing me the freedom to do as I pleased. It was how I was earning my freedom. Saving my earning so I could escape from here. Escape from the binds that fastened me to the Folds.

  My gym, Destruction, provided sanctuary for those in need. It was the one place in the Folds, the dredged of society, that anyone was safe. It provided a shelter for those who needed to escape, if only for a moment's time.

  I was fair and just, offering those around me the same respect and decency they offered me. There was only one rule here.

  My only rule.

  Don't look at or touch my girl.

  G was off limits.

  When G confessed to me her weariness of Marco’s new friends I saw red. I knew I needed to find out who Marco was running with.

  Marco was a dead man walking.

  The only reason he was still alive was because of G. I knew taking him out could cost me the one thing I wasn’t willing to give up. Ginger. I couldn’t do anything about Marco. G would never forgive me if I caused him harm. Marco may have been off limits but that didn’t mean I couldn’t do something about his friends.

  It seemed there was a new club in town and they needed a little lesson on the rules in the Folds. My rules.

  I couldn’t get G to accept my offer for dinner tonight but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be looking out for her. I made arrangements through a couple of my associates to be introduced to the new MC’s President.

  It was time for the welcome party to roll on in and let everyone know how the Folds were run.

  I shot off a quick text to Mamá and let her know that I wouldn’t be over for dinner but that I would bring G with me tomorrow night.

  Mamá knew how I felt about G. She was the only person who knew. It wasn’t because I told her, or because of her matchmaking scheme. The chemistry between the two of us was undeniable. The fact that Mamá approved was the icing on the cake.

  I think she loved G just as much as I did, if not more. Nothing gave her greater pleasure than having the two of us over for dinner. She had been telling me since the moment she met G that she was the one for me. Back when we were just kids. Mamá swore she could see it in her dreams. I wanted to believe her. I wanted her to be right. But something told me to hold back. So I did. But I was losing patience.

  Our dinners together used to be a weekly event, but something had changed lately. G had started to pull away. Part of me was glad. I didn’t want G to know the monster I was inside. I knew that once she found out her affection for me would be tarnished. The other part of me revolted, demanding I stake my claim and make her mine, refusing to accept any other answer.

  It was getting harder and harder to stay away. Her pull on me was irresistible. I was the earth and she was the sun, casting light into my world, where before there had only been darkness.

&nbs
p; Her words before she left ran on repeat through my mind.

  “You’re right. I can’t wait to let the hot water rain down my body while I lather up my naked flesh with my hands.” The way her hands wandered her body, caressing her flesh in all the ways I imagined touching her. The things this woman said. The things she did to me.

  She was absolute perfection.

  A walking temptation.

  Trouble.

  I wanted her. Needed her. Craved her.

  But I couldn’t have her.

  Not yet.

  But that time was coming. There would be no escaping it. I only hoped she was ready when I did. When I came for her there would be no escape. There would be no holding back. Ginger would be mine. Mind, body, and soul.

  Chapter Three

  Ginger

  I walked in a trance-like state down the darkened streets to my house. I was sure I looked like a zombie. My legs dragging behind me and my arms and shoulders drooped forward.

  My body barely made it home. My limbs were as weak as water. I stumbled up the cobblestone path to the front door of the small Tudor home Marco and I shared. It was our childhood home. The only place I had ever lived aside from the few months in which I stayed at the apartment above Destruction. I tried not to think of those days. They only brought me sadness. They were some of the darkest in my life and didn't need revisiting.

  I had gone at it hard today, too hard. The new stance Shank had shown me worked muscles I didn’t even know existed, combined with the fact that it was one of my longest workouts to date. But it served its purpose. My body and mind were too exhausted to dwell on the thoughts that plagued me earlier in the day. My body was too wrung out. My mind to sluggish to care.