by V. L. Brock
“Walker––”
“Please, Les. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate.”
The sigh he breathed cut over the rhythmic whipping sound of the skipping rope a little further down. “Your Ma would turn in her grave if she knew you were taking a path she wanted to keep you from, Bud.”
What a hypocrite? It was him that introduced me to the scene in the first fucking place. It was the thrill, the rush and the easy money which kept me hooked, after being let go from the steel factory. That’s all it would be for, just the money. A couple hundred dollars for both a release, and nine times out of ten, less than ten minutes in a circle of sweaty onlookers gathering for blood. I licked my lips. “It’s not as though we haven’t done this before.”
“’Aye, that I know, I feel that guilt every fucking day. It’s been a long time, Walker. I’m just not convinced you can go back out there and still live up to what people expect from you.”
My eyebrows lifted on a slighted snort. “Fucking charming. Listen, I need this, not for me, but for her. I don’t deserve her, Les, but she’s giving me the chance. I can’t be the bum who doesn’t provide. I just need something to tide me over until I can get something more…respectable.”
I could feel my chance slipping when he shook his head and sucked in his lips.
“Let me prove to you. Two minutes in that ring with anyone of your choosing. If I can do it, then you set me up. Deal?”
“Fuck, you drive a hard bargain, Walker. Fine. Jax,”––he headed back to the ring with me in tow––“Get the fuck outta there. Mickey, you stay fucking put.”
When I was handed Jax’s gloves, I simply scowled. “I don’t wear gloves.”
“You will for this one. Now prove me wrong, bud.”
I weaved through the elastics and bounced on my toes, the floor feeling alien under my weight after such a long time. Inhaling the hide, I dropped my hands and thumped my padded fists together then made my way to the shamrock pattern in the center, offering a grin at the guy sporting a red head guard as I did so.
By then everything had gone eerily quiet. No hissing of air between clenched teeth as fighters struck against the bags, no rhythmic skipping or speed bag vibrating, just the sound of the floor of the arena bouncing with our weight as we worked it on our toes.
Instinct prompted the hasty dodge of my opponent’s first jab. When the next blow came, although my guard was up, I made no effort to move, and just stood there, bouncing on my toes, my guard heavy.
“Jesus, are you going to fight back or what?” some random guy mocked from outside the ring, which led to Les shushing him quiet.
A powerful hiss through Mickey’s clenched teeth were nothing on the body shot targeted against my ribs. The impact had me jolting, but I let it feed me, feed my adrenaline, feed my psyche. Before I knew it, the sweat was pouring from beneath the head guard, and he seemed to have gotten a large dose of fucking gumption, because his eyes were darkening and his ridiculed words were curt. “Come on for Christ sake. You do know what the goal is, right?” Finally, my waiting was over and his shots started to come fast and heavy, just as I wanted.
Jab, jab, hook. Jab, jab, body shot.
When I noticed his right shoulder drop along with his increased panting, an eerie smile spread across my face. That was the vital mistake everyone made against me. Just because I wouldn’t strike first or strike back, they thought they could use it as my weakness when the truth was: I was using their boastfulness to my advantage.
I could take what they gave fifty times over; Les had seen me do it and so did the others. At the end, it would be them panting and aching, barely able to lift their arms to maintain their guard.
“Sooner or later, it’ll always come,” I muttered, grinning when my opponent stretched his neck and shook out his arms. “Sorry,” I sighed then stepped in with a rapid jab, hook, uppercut combo in his face, which sent him staggering into the ropes, and finally falling to the floor in an exhausted heap.
Each and every time, I’d prevail over my opponents plainly because they were too confident, too proud and boastful. And because of that, I always made sure to keep levelheaded. I’d never boast. I turned to face Les behind me. A shit eating grin plastered all over his face, he started clapping his hands.
“What the fuck just happened?” gasped Jax.
“He’s back, that’s what just happened.”
Squeezing myself through the ropes, I jumped down, slipped out of the gloves, and was instantly attacked by Les’ arms around me. “I take that as a yes then?”
He pulled away. “Damn fucking right. Get yourself changed and on one of the bags, that is if you’re not in a rush.”
I looked down seeing dark jeans, faded on the knees and up the thighs. “Good idea. Give me two minutes.” I told him, gathering my gym bag and heading to the changing room.
Just as I had said, I was in and out of the changing room within two minutes. The soles of my sneakers stuck and squeaked across the polished flooring as I made my way past the third wooden pillar, to one of the heavy bags hanging from the wrought iron bracket.
“Gloves,” he instructed but sounded more of a warning. I simply rolled my eyes but he wasn’t having any of it, so I rammed my hands into the padded leather and punched my clenched fists together twice, very Hulk-ish.
Ducking, weaving and bouncing on my toes, I concentrated on the sandy colored body bag in front of me, jabbing it quickly and forcefully. Uncle Les stood on the opposite side holding it steady, stopping it from swinging out.
I jabbed. I hooked. I concentrated on my rapid, dynamic hisses to gain more power and speed behind each blow, yet I could still sense unspoken words. “What is it, Les?”
“Eh?”
“Your hamster is going to die on its wheel or cut out its own fucking tongue unless you tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Ha, ha, funny man. Stop dropping your shoulder,” he quickly changed topic, noting my error, then sighed, “Do you remember the first day you put on a pair of gloves?”
Left jab, left jab, weave, right jab…
“Course I do. The smell of leather is like home to me now. Has been since that day.”
“You have no idea how long it took me to convince your Ma,” he smiled, thinking back. “Stop dropping your shoulder.”
“Yeah well, she hated it. Ma was more of a lover not a fighter.” And in that moment, I felt a sucker punch right in my gut. If she was more of a fighter then the chances are she could have fought a little harder. I could barely register it through my wandering thoughts, but I knew Les had gasped when my arms began to lay swift, precise punches without any thought. It was as though my joints had been well oiled and nothing could stop them.
Focusing on a tiny dot on the bag from under wounded, pissed off lids, I laid assault after assault.
“Buddy, she was a fighter.”
“Nah,” shook my head, my teeth clenching at the thought of her scent as I wrapped my arms around her waist, and the way I would nuzzle my cheek into the loose skin of her belly which she often called ‘her piney’. “She didn’t fight as hard as she could have. She endured. She tolerated it. If she fought a little harder, a little longer…” I punched the sand-filled sack repeatedly, each additional strike harder and more grueling than the last.
“Hey, bud,” I blinked lazily and when I opened my eyes, they scoured from the bag to the man behind it taking the brunt end of a grief that I should have been over by now. I can’t think of Ma without getting emotional. Jesus Christ, I can’t even hear my own fucking name…
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Can we talk about something else, or just leave me alone. I need to concentrate.”
When he leaned in, adjusting the front of his shoulder against the bag as he held it firmly, I knew he was heeding my words. “What about this woman of yours, then? What’s she like?”
Arms fell like led laden limbs to my side. Tipping my head back I looked at the ceiling with a smile.
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“Ah, one of those, eh?”
I frowned, confused.
“No matter how shite your day is, the mention of her always makes it easier. I told you the ladies love an Irishman.” I shook my head and raised my guard before setting back out on the bag, sweat burning my eyes as it flowed from my brow. “So is it serious then?”
“I’ve been emotionally invested in this relationship for over a year,” I gasped between punches. “In real-time, it’s been a week. So ‘aye, it’s serious for me.”
“And her?”
I stopped, taking a deep breath and swallowing. “A man can hope.”
“So what attracted you to her? You’re going to spew me the, ‘our eyes locked from across the room’, cack, aren’t ya.”
I chuckled, knowing how close to the mark he was. “I knew she was a soul that needed protecting. I knew she was a lover not much of a fighter, but she was strong. She stomached so much to keep the faith in someone…she endured a lot…”
“Sounds like someone…no wonder Carriag loves her like a daughter-in-law.”
“Let’s not jump the gun, eh, Les?”
“I’m just saying, it’s about time someone put a little sunshine back into the Walker/Brannon family.”
Within an hour in the gym, I worked every post available: the bag, speedball, skipping, sit-ups and sparring. So by the time I stretched out and cooled off my throbbing, sweat coated limbs, I felt close to dying. I hadn’t worked out that vigorously in a while.
Tossing the strap of the black bag over my shoulder, I headed for the door still in my training gear when Les called, “You’re looking at about two weeks before the next fight. Keep it up and I’ll ring ya to let you know the details.”
“’Aye. Cheers, Uncle Les.”
“See you tomorrow, bud,” he waved me off with a flip of his wrist before heading to the weight stand and reorganizing them into their rightful positions.
The clock flashed 4:42p.m as I made my way back home. All the while the conversation with Les played in my mind about Kady having strength to endure all sort of shite, but not being a fighter. But I was wrong. She had it in her to be a fighter, that was proved that very morning when she bit back, not wanting to talk about the newest nightmare to plague her dreams. Checking the rearview mirror as I pulled into a parking space, I smiled. That was why I told her never to be sorry. I somehow need her to understand that it’s good to fight back, she must fight back. Use your weakness as an advantage, just like Da told me. That was my new task. I fought to make her remember, I fought to make her see that she was worth more than what Liam was doing to her. Now I needed to bring out the strength she had hidden away, and focus on using it externally.
How to do that was another matter entirely.
Putting the truck into park, I turned off the ignition and grabbed the gym bag sitting on the passenger seat next to me, before removing myself and kicking the door shut. The never-ending flights of stairs did nothing for my overexerted body. My legs were heavy, my arms were heavy. Fuck, even my shoulders felt the weightiness of my fucking head resting on them. Still, I knew Kady would appreciate the results to some extent. That alone had me taking two stairs at a fucking time.
Slipping the metal into the lock, I twisted the key and booted the lower half of the door. When I stepped inside, closing the door behind me and dropping the bag just inside, I was immediately taken back by the smell of burning.
“Darlin’?” I called, taking a deep inhalation, when the hissing of simmering water overflowing and drying under the flame became a little clearer. Then a sob.
“Kady?” My sight lingering on the coffee table, a red table cover all disheveled, then Kady, curled up on the floor in front of the couch. Five lengthy strides and I was on my knees in front of her. “Darlin’, what happened?” On instinct, my hands pushed her blond hair, which was plastered to her face, away. Her makeup was smudged, her piercing blue eyes now red and sore as her tears came rapidly. “What the fuck…?”
Sniveling, she fought to catch her breath between sobbing and dry heaves. “Li–Li…Liam, he…he…”
Wide eyed, I felt my jaw tighten and my inspection journeyed down her body. Her skirt was pulled up enough to display the gaping hole in her tights between her legs. In that moment, I don’t know if my heart stopped, or if I was spiraling down into the pits of Hell.
“I thought he was you, he…he…”
I pulled her into my arms, feeling her physically shaking against me as she gave into her despair. I kissed the top of her head; my spoken words were barely a whisper past the blood gushing through my ears. “Did he…di…” fuck. I couldn’t even bring myself to say the fucking words. I was sick to my stomach.
“He might as well have.” Her words sliced my chest and shredded my heart. Her grip on my top tightened, pulling me closer.
Although I didn’t want to, I pried her from my body. If anything, I wanted to stay with her and comfort her in any way that I could. But the need to have that fucking prick in my hands was too strong and I couldn’t fight it. Her arms were somewhat crossed as I grasped her by the upper arms and studied her pale, mascara-streaked face. She looked cracked beyond all recognition. “Lock the door behind me, darlin’. You understand? I won’t be long.” Rearing up, I kissed her on her hairline and paced to the door. “That fucking cunt, he’s not getting away with this––”
“Walker please, no…” I just about heard her fraught, chipping voice as I yanked the door shut behind me.
I could have been a NASCAR driver with my abilities, dodging and weaving through the rush-hour, Boston traffic, paying ill attention to red lights. All I could see when I closed my eyes was him on top of her as she fought against him. Liam’s not huge, but his weight could easily restrain Kady, and that alone made my stomach churn.
I always said I would be there, I would protect her. Who was I fucking kidding? I fucking failed. Again.
The pickup’s tires screeched to a halt outside the house which so many bad memories and encounters had taken place. Slamming myself from the truck, I made my way around the hood. “Liam!” I shouted, making my way up the entry steps. “DELANEY, GET YOUR FUCKING WORTHLESS ARSE OUT HERE YOU PRICK!” With clenched fists, I thumped the door with the underside of my right hand. “LIAM, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE. OPEN THE FUCKIN’ DOOR BEFORE I KICK IT FUCKIN’ IN!”
The door was being pulled slightly open when I pushed my way through, grabbing fistfuls of the collar of his shirt and pushing his back to the wooden staircase. “What the fuck did you do to her?! What the fuck did you do?!” His body went limp as I shook him fearlessly.
When he simply laughed in my face, I released the fistful of designer shirt out of my right hand, and drew my arm back. “Go ahead, do your worst. I’m not going to fight back. Do you know why, Walker?” My eyes were wide, watching everything in slow motion as my teeth clenched. “Because you’ll get into more shit with the law if I don’t retaliate.”
“Fuck the law.”
“I should have fucked her, really,” he sneered, and out of nowhere, I stepped back dragging his pathetic arse up from the stairs and threw him backwards through the living room archway. The loss of footing sending him tumbling to the floor.
“You dare fucking touch her.”
“You know she begged me to stop. She cried and cried. She even called out your name but you never came.”
The adrenaline was so much, I could barely stand. Wide eyed and determined, I stalked into the room where he was sitting on the flooring, his elbows bracing his weight as he peered up at me, studying me with hard, unfeeling eyes and a sickening smirk over his face.
”Am I pushing your buttons? Good. Come and hit me then. Teach me a lesson; just remember that with you behind bars, which is where you’ll end up, you leave an opening. Who’ll be there to protect her if you’re not?”
As much as I hated to admit it, as much as I wanted to step those four extra paces into that room and put his face through the glass and marble
coffee table, he was right. As sick as he was, I knew that acting on my adrenaline and testosterone, and putting the snake in his place, would bring more danger to Kady in the long run. And that was something I wasn’t prepared to do.
Scornfully pointing my finger down at his curled up, sorry body, I grated, “This isn’t over, DeLaney,” before turning on my heel and heading for the door.
“You’re right. It’s far from over,” his threatening words followed me out of the house, as the adrenaline demon steered me back into my truck and sped home to be the strength my girl desperately needed.
Chapter Ten
Kady
The jetting stream of scalding water from the shower didn’t help.
Shredding my flesh from the bone with the constant scrubbing and scrapping of the loofa mitt, wasn’t even strong enough to remove the touch of the man I desperately loathed from my body. His touch was parasitic, boring under each layer of skin and gnawing away until I finally felt the burning in my bloodstream, sending my entire being on fire. All I wanted was to escape it, strip it from me in any way possible.
This was by far the most horrifying action he had ever bore on me, and I truly felt broken. Violated and dirty.
As the towel stripped yet more flesh from my body with hasty drying, I looked up into the mirror hovering over the sink and cursed myself once again, for causing his reaction. Over the years one thing I had learned was that consequences follow an action. Lessons need to be taught, and my insolence and sheer disregard of his feelings and disrespect was the catalyst to those consequences.
If only I could go back to that morning and use what semblance of IQ points I had, and not dialed his number to warn him off, then none of this would have happened.
After stepping into my pink yoga pants and pulling the white camisole over my head, I gathered what remained of my tainted clothing from the linoleum flooring and followed the potent smell of burning into the kitchen. After everything, my sole thought was to scrub the touch of him away, and I’d completely forgotten to remove the pots from the range. Without a second thought, I twisted the dials off, tossing the pots onto the unit. They were utterly ruined. I hoped they didn’t hold any sentimental value to Walker. I could only deal with one dose of guilt that day.
