by Mj Fields
She and the kid walk away, leaving Hendrix and me alone.
“She’s missing,” I tell him. “Johnny said her father reported her missing. I swear on everything I am, if he hurt her, if she is…” I pause, not wanting to finish speaking my biggest fear. “I’ll kill the motherfucker, Hendrix. If she is gone, I will kill him with my bare hands.”
His face shows that he knows I will. “We need you—”
“It ain’t fucking right!”
“No, it’s not. So when we find her, what are you prepared to do about it?”
“Make sure no one ever hurts her again. That’s what the fuck I plan to do.”
“You’re in love with this girl,” he states.
“No! She’s seventeen years old.”
“Shit,” he grumbles. “You’re in love.”
“No, I’m not some sick son of a bitch, Hendrix. I just wanna make sure the promise I made to Momma, the one we all made to Momma, is fulfilled.”
He looks at me like he knows something I don’t.
“She’s a goddamn kid,” I say, defending myself.
He nods. “She’s a seventeen-year-old girl who’s been abused. The kid has been knocked out of her, Jagger. You know it just as well as I do. Been there, done that, got the bruises and broken bones to show for it. If you take someone like that on, you better make damn sure you don’t do more damage than good.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning bruises, breaks, and cuts leave scars, but those fuckers heal. If you break a heart, that shit leaves more than a scar. You get me?”
“She isn’t in love with me,” I snap.
“Wasn’t talking about only her,” he says. “We can go looking tonight.”
“I have a fight in two days. How am I gonna find her and train? Fuck!”
“You got a picture of your girl?”
“Fuck no, I don’t have a picture. And she isn’t my girl,” I defend.
“Uh-huh,” he says, turning to walk away. Then he stops and turns back. “Then why look?”
“It’s the right thing to do. That’s fucking why.”
“The right thing to do isn’t always easy.”
“Well, no shit, asshole.”
“Don’t be a dick, Jag. What the hell are you gonna do when you find her? Have you thought about that?”
“Morrison and Hailey’s place, Momma’s Nest,” I say, proud as shit that I have an answer that seems rational in this irrational situation. “They created their safe haven for abused women.”
“She an eighteen-year-old momma? That’s what their nonprofit is for, not runaways, or—”
“Rules can be bent.”
“You willing to see Morrison’s dream destroyed for a girl you just want to do right by?”
“Yeah, and Momma would be proud!”
“Will you be when he gets shut down before he even has a chance to get this dream of his flying?”
I look at him, and he looks right back. He’s right, but fuck if I can walk away.
“Understood.”
“So you gonna just walk?”
I don’t answer.
“I’m all about helping family, Jagger. I’m all about helping the underdog and doing what’s right, but family is family, and sometimes charity needs to start at home.”
“So I walk away? Are you fuckin’ outta your mind? That’s not who we are.”
“No, not necessarily. You could always look outside the box. Better yet, maybe stop ignoring what your heart’s telling you.”
—
The day after Morrison’s wedding, I run all over this entire city. I have looked everywhere for her, fucking everywhere, and nothing. There’s not a damn sign of that green ribbon or the girl I have an almost animalistic need to find.
I couldn’t give a fuck about this fight, and old man Shaw is fit to be tied. In the forty minutes I have given him today, I have knocked out every sparring partner he has brought in to get me ready for what he calls the fight of my life.
“I need a show, Jagger! Not a fucking one-punch knockout. If you want more fights, want to make more money so maybe you can plant roots someday, you need to listen to me!”
I bounce up and down, looking at the beast he brings in the ring next. He calls him Kid for good reason. The fucker has a Kid Rock look: long-ass brown hair and scruffy as shit. He’s pulling it back in one of those man buns, and I can’t help laughing. The guy is a good four inches taller than me and outweighs me by about thirty pounds of muscle, but I am not intimidated at all, and not for his lack of trying, either.
His eyes are locked on mine, his jaw set and begging to be busted. His nose looks to already have been at least a half dozen times, and he’s not intimidated at all.
“Kid’s not gonna hold back.”
“Wouldn’t want him to hold back.” I give him a smirk, and he scowls. I pound my chest. “Bring it on, Man Bun.”
As he growls, Shaw gives me a jab to the shoulder. “He’s new to the scene and doesn’t give a fuck about a title. Kid just got released from state for manslaughter. You hearing me?”
“Yeah, Man Bun killed someone, and you think that shit’s gonna scare me.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Shaw says and then rings the bell.
“Give me your best, Kid.” I laugh, beckoning him with my hands.
Fucker doesn’t move. He just stands there, and it pisses me off.
“Fine, have it your way.”
I lunge forward, sweep his legs out, and hit him hard with a left.
He goes down hard, and I expect him to stay, but he doesn’t. He shakes his head like a dog shaking off slobber from his muzzle and pops up.
I go in quick and give him a jab to the right. He doesn’t fall back this time. He lunges forward, and we both go down.
Blow for blow, we exchange rib shots, chest shots, and face shots.
I manage to get out from under him and am on top, beating the hell out of him, when I get yanked off.
When he jumps up and comes at me, I sweep him again, and he falls hard. Fucker doesn’t stay down. He’s up again. He lunges, and we go down, grappling, wrestling, fighting for top position and throwing jabs when we can.
Again, I come out on top, and again, I am pulled off.
Three more times, this happens. No knockouts, neither of us giving up, just two men fighting something bigger than each other. Finally, Shaw breaks us apart and calls it.
I have a metallic taste in my mouth and feel my right eye immediately swelling.
“Grab some fucking ice,” Shaw barks at one of the gym rats. “Now, both of you, sit your asses down.”
I sit and look at Kid, and he looks at me.
“Kid’s coming with us tomorrow to the fight. I expect shit to go bad. Cobra’s camp has been really fucking quiet.”
“So you think I need him to keep me safe, Shaw? Come on. I’m the champion. Rock City loves me and—”
“Your head is swelled from the win, and you haven’t been training like you should. You need him”—he points at Kid—“and he needs you.”
Kid grumbles some shit under his breath.
“For what?”
“ ’Cause I might be stepping back, and he might be stepping in around here.” I’m shocked to hear that shit coming out of his mouth. “I’m getting too old for this shit, Jagger. Kid’s dad and I were friends, best friends. He’s gone, and I promised him I would take care of his boy when he got out. Kid’s family. So are you. You’ll do this, and so will he.”
Chapter 8
Tatiana
I left. I did it. Now what am I supposed to do?
I make my way to Caldwell’s. Only it’s late, and the bar is closed. I didn’t think this through at all. The area is a little nicer than where my apartment is, but late at night, the streets of Detroit aren’t good. I step back and try to find a place nearby to hunker down for the next few hours until someone comes back in.
I turn the corner of the building, lost in thought.<
br />
Bam.
I am stopped by the broad chest of a man. As I stumble backward, two firm hands reach out and grip my upper arms, holding me steady. My eyes travel up the tight T-shirt and into the molten eyes of the fighter, the one Jagger beat at the fight. What is his name? Striker? Cobra? Something like that.
Panic fills me. Good touch. Bad touch. This man definitely likes bad touch. It seems to radiate off him. He peers down at me, his eyes dancing in the darkness with some emotion I can’t read.
“Innocence,” he whispers so quietly I almost can’t make out what he says.
“Umm…” I’m unsure if he knows who I am or what he plans to do with me.
When I step back, trying to pull out of his hold, one arm releases me while the other remains firm. He strokes my cheek with the back of his knuckles, and instinctively I jerk away. My belly tightens as fear takes hold.
“Little Mouse, I won’t hurt you.”
Somehow, I doubt that. There is a hunger in his eyes that scares me to my core.
He releases me, and I turn to run, but firm hands grip me again.
“Calm down!” he orders, and I tense more. “Come with me. I’ll keep you safe till Playmaker is free to handle his latest conquest.” Confusion must show on my face, even in the darkness. “Caldwell,” he clarifies. “I’ll keep you safe till Caldwell is free to deal with you.”
I nod my head in understanding. Hitmaker is Jagger’s fight name, but for whatever reason, this guy calls him Playmaker. Still, I’m not sure I should go with him.
My face throbs, my neck burns, and my sides cry out in agony with every step. I want to wait here, but how long will I be alone, outside in the street? Now that I know Jagger has just married, who do I have? Is this my new forever—running, hiding, never knowing good?
Before either of us can say another word, my stomach growls loudly.
“Come on, Mouse. I have a place close by. I’ll feed you, and you can sleep off your injuries.”
I gasp, realizing he can see what a mess I am. I need to hide, and he is offering me the only place right now.
Without speaking, I step forward to him. Once he releases his hold and takes me by the hand, leading me to some old muscle car, I hop in. Then he cranks the engine and revs it, sending chills down my spine.
Suddenly questions are going crazy in my mind. Why was he here? Was he following me? Was he waiting for Jagger? What am I doing? I’m in a car with a complete stranger.
Panic fills me. I am beyond stupid. Why did I leave home? I am so confused and scared.
What have I done?
I reach for the door handle, but Cobra puts his hand on my thigh to stop me. I hiss, and he smiles.
“Typically you should be afraid of me, Mouse, but tonight you don’t need to be.”
I look at him, wide-eyed and fearful.
“Do you speak English?”
Oh, my saving grace. He’s another one who assumes.
I shake my head.
“Do you understand me?”
I shrug my shoulders, as if I somewhat can comprehend him.
“What the hell has Caldwell gotten into with this mouse?” Cobra mutters to himself. “She probably isn’t even here legally. Of all the moments to get a conscience, I get one now.” He removes his hand from my thigh and lays his head against his headrest. “What the hell do I do with her now? I was trying to help the frail thing until Caldwell could get his head from between my girl’s legs long enough to handle his own problems. Now I have a half-starved, beat-up, quiet mouse who can’t speak English in my car and no clue what to do next other than feed her if I can keep her from jumping out of the car. Way to go, Jason! First good deed ever, and you pick the doozy of a deal.”
I fight back the urge to laugh at him. He sincerely wants to help me. I don’t understand why Jagger’s head would be between his girl’s legs, but whatever. Americans have crazy slang, anyway.
With my hand still on the door, I look over at the clearly conflicted man in the driver’s seat. He has short blond hair, striking features, and a tight jawline. His eyes are closed while his plump lips continue to move as he fights some battle inside himself. Then my stomach growls again, gaining his attention. He looks to me, and I stare back at him. His eyes have changed from the devious look when we first met to sadness as he gazes at my fresh marks.
“Does it hurt?” he whispers, and I nod. “Let’s get you fed and cleaned up.”
There is true sympathy found in his tone that I find comfort in, so I nod and move my hand to rest on my lap.
“Buckle up, Mouse. We’re both in for a new ride,” Cobra whispers as he puts the car in gear. “What the hell am I doing?” he asks himself as we pull away.
Funny, I wonder the same thing about myself.
The car ride isn’t long, and it is very quiet. We pull up to a nicer building than my own and get out once Cobra parks. He takes me by the hand and leads me to an elevator, which we take up to his apartment. It’s definitely newer than my home and well done with modern upgrades. I’m surprised at how nice it is.
It must show since Cobra smiles at me. “My girlfriend picked it.”
I nod. I see now. This definitely isn’t the home of a bachelor. I have cleaned enough apartments after people have moved out to know there is a difference when there is a woman’s touch.
The space is done in shades of teal, orange, and light gray. Everything is contemporary and modern with clean lines and abstract designs.
“Only one bedroom, so you gotta take the couch. I would give you my bed, but when Missy finishes with Caldwell, she’ll come home. She always does.”
Pain slices through my gut. What does he mean, when she’s done with Caldwell?
Cobra walks away while I stand there in his entryway, dumbfounded. He comes back with a first aid kit.
“Let’s clean you up, and then I’ll make you some soup.”
—
My night with Cobra was probably the best night I have ever had, aside from the moment Jagger Caldwell kissed me.
After he helped clean up my wounds and ice my swollen face, he made me a bowl of soup. I had to laugh at the alphabet letters swimming in sauce, and I almost spit out the warm meal when Cobra smiled and said we could practice my ABCs and one, two, threes.
That is when I spilled my secret that I could, indeed, speak English. After he called me a clever girl, we called it a night since it was after four in the morning.
It’s now late afternoon, and Cobra’s girlfriend didn’t come home last night. He seems on edge as he prowls around the place.
“Need clothes, Mouse?”
“I’m pretty sure we established my name is Tatiana, Jason.”
“Mouse suits you.” He smirks, and I smile.
“I have clothing in my bag, thank you.” I grab my stuff and head to the bathroom, where I quickly shower and dress in jeans and a plain white shirt. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I add the green ribbon to it before making my way back out to Cobra’s living space.
Cobra is dressed in distressed jeans and a tight black T-shirt. His muscles are clearly on display, and he is one well-cut man. There are no tattoos like Jagger’s to distract from each flex and tic in his arms. His body screams business. I learned that about him last night. He is all about making it. His business is fighting, and that is his life.
It makes me wonder what drives Jagger to fight. It also makes me wonder about each of his tattoos. What do they mean? Are they trophies of his battles? Are they symbols of wars that still rage in his heart? Are they simply something he wanted?
“Eager to find Caldwell?” Cobra asks, making me wonder if it is that obvious.
“Not so much eager as much as I know he can help me.”
“The way you gripped that business card last night and now makes me wonder if it’s more than help you seek from Playmaker.”
I look down at the tattered paper, knowing in my heart that Cobra is right. It is more than help I seek. It is life I want, and so
mehow I find Jagger Caldwell to be my lifeline. I can’t explain. I just know it.
“What does it matter? He once offered to help me, and he is good for his word, is he not?” I ask, realizing just how little I know of him.
“Actions speak louder than words, Mouse. Where was your knight when you needed him?”
I shrug my shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling that Cobra knows something he isn’t sharing with me. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t like he was expecting me.”
“No, but why rely on Caldwell? I’ll help you, Mouse.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you help me? Jagger knows my situation. Why do you suddenly care?”
Something crosses his features. “Redemption.”
“That is a powerful word,” I reply.
“I’m a bad man, Tatiana.” His words send chills down my spine.
What have I done? How could I trust so easily?
“I was raised by a bad man and became exactly what I hated most.” He runs his hands through his hair.
“Why tell me this? You’re scaring me.”
“Have you ever heard the saying ‘If you love something, let it go’?” I nod. “I can’t let her go. We fight, Mouse. Missy and I fight.” He drops his head in shame. “Your face, Mouse, I did that to her. More than once.”
I gasp in shock. “How? Why?”
“Rage. Reaction. It all makes sense in the moment, but it doesn’t once it’s over. I don’t want to hurt her—I want to love her—but she makes me so angry.”
“I don’t know much, but love shouldn’t be anger.”
“She runs to him. Every fucking chance she gets, she goes to Caldwell. I want her to run to me.” He meets my gaze, and I see the pain in his eyes.
“She can’t when she’s scared of you.”
“I know.”
“I think I should be going.”
He moves to stand in front of me, blocking my path. “Do I scare you, Mouse?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Take away what you learned of me just now. Before then, did I scare you?”
His words come back to me. He views me as his redemption.
