Impact (The Fight for Life #2)

by K. A. Sterritt

  Chapter Thirty

  Leo

  I hadn’t been to fight night for months and had actually missed the buzz of driving to a secret location. Tonight’s fight was to be held at a warehouse west of the city in a deserted industrial estate.

  “Leo Ashlar.” Reaper greeted me in the passageway just before I entered my change room. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight. I’m ready to show you some manners.”

  “Pretty sure I showed you some manners last time.” I had no interest in goading him, but I couldn’t resist a little jab.

  “I’m looking forward to a little retribution tonight.”

  “Good luck with that,” I said casually.

  “Not just for me,” he spat. “For my mate.”

  I had no idea, nor did I care, who his mate was, so I just shrugged. Everyone who came to the cage consented to the consequences. No one was holding a gun to their head. “So?”

  His nostrils flared. “So I’m gonna enjoy a little payback. He was just doing a job when you rearranged his face. All over your little blonde slut.”

  The penny dropped. His mate was the hooded dickhead who had attacked Jules at fight night then shown up at the farm with a gun and a message. I saw red, slamming him up against the breeze block wall. “First of all, don’t ever refer to my girlfriend as a slut. And secondly, if your mate is that hooded motherfucker who attacked a woman and put a gun in my face, then I’ll be the one enjoying the retribution.”

  He laughed. “See you in the final.” He spat in my face, and it was all I could do to stop myself from headbutting him. I did not want to get thrown out before I had a chance to smear his body parts across the canvas.

  I stepped back from him and swiped the back of my arm across my face. “Looking forward to it.”

  Moving into my room, I slammed the door and dropped my bag on one of the benches.

  “Mate.” Adam, the Ginger Ninja, poked his head around the door. Still reeling from my encounter with Reaper, I let out a breath and crossed the room to shake his hand. “You’re back?”

  “I’m back.”

  He chuckled. “The girls in the crowd will be happy.”

  I shook my head at his ridiculous comment. There was only one girl I cared about, and I was really happy she wasn’t going to be in the crowd. “Glad to be here.”

  “Okay, boys.” Derek came in holding a clipboard. He pulled a pencil from its resting place above his ear and scribbled something down before looking up again. “Here’s the line-up.” He glanced at me. “You’re up first, Leo.”

  He rattled off the fighter names and I realised I didn’t recognise many of them. There’d obviously been some turnover in the past few months, which wasn’t uncommon given the fact many left in an ambulance.

  “Nick Matthews,” Derek said. “Long time no see.”

  I was shocked to see him. “What are you doing here, Nick?”

  Derek took Nick in a headlock and scruffed his head good naturedly. “This pussy could’ve taken down the mighty Leo Ashlar once upon a time.” He released him and Nick gave him an equally good-natured shove.

  “Doubt that.” I chuckled. “Nick likes the gentleman’s sport these days.”

  “Watch yourself, pretty boy,” Nick said lightheartedly. “Caged Muay Thai is no longer my bag, but it’s a part of my past. I’m here to support you.”

  “See you later, mate,” Derek said as he disappeared out the door.

  I returned to my bag and grabbed a bottle of water. Dropping to the bench, I took a swig.

  “Stay focused and use that brain of yours.” He tapped the side of his head.

  “Hey, Nick. You know how you’re always telling me to leave the past in the past?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, I got a call from my mother earlier and I’m meeting her out at the farmhouse tomorrow afternoon.” I paused, still finding it hard to wrap my head around the enormity of what I was about to say. “I think she’s going to give me some closure on my father’s death.”

  His eyes widened. “You think she knows who killed him?”

  I nodded. “I do. Always have. It’s been a long five years.” I stared at my hands. “I just need to know.”

  He took a step closer and patted me on the shoulder. “Good luck, Leo. I’ll see you at the end.”

  Before he left the room, he turned back. “Jules out there tonight?”

  “Nope. I asked her not to come.”

  “And she agreed?” He chuckled. “Bit surprised, I have to say.”

  A feeling of dread churned in the pit of my stomach. I bloody hoped she kept to her word. “She did.” I focused on wrapping my hands to try to distract my thoughts.

  “I’ll keep an eye out, so you just focus on your opponent. Okay?” He winked then disappeared out the door.

  Ten minutes later, Derek poked his head around the door and glanced around the room. “Nick was one scary mother fucker in his day.”

  “I’ve known him since I was a kid,” I stated. “He’s an incredible boxing coach.”

  “You’re up soon,” he said. “Dam just arrived.”

  After going through my usual warm-up routine with Dam, who had kindly agreed to come in for the night, I was escorted into the warehouse. Even though I’d distanced myself from this scene, it still made my heart pump faster, sending blood and adrenaline streaming through me at an addictive rate. The music thumped against my chest, making me jog up and down on the spot, expelling the overflow of energy threatening to explode out of me.

  As always, the cage was set up in the centre, surrounded by the crowd buzzing with the unique level of excitement this taboo sport could muster. Both cage fighting and boxing were brutal. No doubt about it. The late Mohammed Ali’s quote sprang to mind. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” He was referring to the boxing ring and his imminent fight with George Foreman. There would be no references to butterflies or even bees in the cage. Maybe hornets and wasps, but no butterflies, not even bees. There would be no speaking of beauty or grace. I moved better than my opponents, outsmarting them until victory was mine, but oblivion was the real winner and I’d let it claim me willingly.

  Dam wasn’t into pep talks. He had a quiet strength I admired greatly, and it rolled off him in waves. “Sacrifice, dedication, honour and respect.” It was all he needed to say.

  I sized up my opponent from the moment I saw him enter the cage. He was introduced as Mr X. He was medium height and build, and his bald head was so shiny, the light from the massive spotters appeared to bounce off it. A large, angry crescent-shaped scar ran over the top. I didn’t know if it the X stood for anything, but I immediately figured he was a tosser based on his name alone. I wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating him though, as average-height fighters often had a combination of power and speed. The short guys often had the power, and the tall, skinny guys had the speed. Nick told me I was a rare combination of size, speed and power, making me almost unbeatable. Almost thanks to the Perth disaster, but I couldn’t think about that.

  Mr X was sidestepping around the cage, working the crowd and himself into a frenzy. I jogged on the spot, keeping my muscles warm, but had no intention of wasting any of my energy before the fight started. That’s when I’d give them the real show. Eventually, the bell sounded and we tapped fists. I looked him in the eye and recognised fear flashing through them. It was as if he hadn’t noticed me until that point, and cranking his neck back to look me in the eye was a shock to him. Dimwit.

  We both moved back a few paces and Mr X let out a guttural roar as he beat his fists against his chest. Whatever works, pal, I thought to myself. Not gonna help you though. As expected, speed was his best asset and he used it to the best of his ability. Unfortunately, what he had in speed, he lacked in skill, and I was able to easily use it against him. The faster you’re travelling, the greater the impact when you slam into a wall. Mr X managed to knock himself unconscious by barrelling into my fist at full speed. All I had to do was plant my feet
and time my hit perfectly. It would’ve been almost comical for the crowd, and even I couldn’t constrain a small smile. I left the cage without a mark on me and I hoped for a bigger challenge on the next round.

  I headed back to my room out back, but was kept informed of the goings on. A guy called Buck won the next round. His opponent was apparently a bloody mess and was sent to hospital.

  Adam poked his head around my door. “I’m up next.” His bloodthirsty excitement was hard to miss. “I’m gonna take out that Reaper fucker.” The guy lived for this, and a large part of me understood why. “Earl just won his fight.”

  “Good luck, mate.” I slapped him on the back. “Cut him a new butthole in case I don’t get the chance.”

  “Consider it done.”

  In a shockingly short period of time, Adam returned to the change rooms with what looked like a broken nose and his arms slung around the shoulders of two officials. His wife was following close behind, dangling her car keys. She glanced at me as she passed my room. “Hospital.” It was all she said, but the resigned look on her face spoke of worry and fear. Unfortunately, Reaper had proved too good for him, and he was clearly gutted. You’d think he’d just been told he had a terminal disease and had months to live. I felt bad for the guy.

  He spat out some blood on the ground in front of me and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “If he’s in the final against you, can you do me a favour and throw the final punch for me?”

  “Sure, mate,” I agreed. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  My next opponent was the winner of round two. He looked like a henchman from mafia movies. He was massive and had my number in height and weight with a huge square head and thick black eyebrows. This was more like it. Assuming he had any level of skill, I would need to bring my A-game.

  The MC introduced him, but I missed his name. It sounded Russian. In my mind, his name was Lurch. He ignored the crowd completely and focused on me. I had a fight on my hands and I felt the adrenaline start working its magic through my veins. This moment. This exact moment was my bliss. The hairs on my arms raised and I shook out my body, releasing some of my excited energy.

  My eyes zeroed in on his left leg and I immediately knew I’d spotted his weakness. He wasn’t limping, but he was definitely favouring his right leg and that was all I needed. We moved to the centre and tapped fists before retreating a few steps. Lurch moved slowly around me in a lame attempt to make me his prey, but I was having none of it. I don’t think so, pal. I went on the attack and Lurch didn’t even get a chance to raise his fists. When his weight was on his vulnerable leg, I moved my upper body in a quick bend, dropped my left knee and catapulted my left fist forward. I then doubled up with another feint combination, raising my right arm and executing a straight cross with blinding speed. Lurch would’ve had no idea what happened as his body dropped to the canvas, out for the count. Too fucking easy.

  Just before I entered the cage again, Dam spoke to me in Thai and I felt transported back to Thailand where he had taught me his craft. “Why is Muay Thai referred to as ‘The Art of Eight Limbs’?”

  I cast my mind back. “Muay Thai fighters use eight points of contact on the body to mimic weapons of war.”

  “That’s right,” he confirmed with an intensity I’d only ever known from this man. “Now, tell me what they are.”

  “One and two.” I looked at my hands. “My hands are the sword and dagger.”

  Dam nodded.

  I shifted from one foot to the other. “Three. Forearms and four, shins. They act as armour.”

  “Five and six.” I bent my arms. “Elbows are a heavy mace or hammer.”

  “And?” Dam whispered, surprisingly audible over the chanting crowd.

  “Seven and eight. Legs and knees. They are the axe and staff.” My Thai felt rusty, but I was pretty confident with what I’d said.

  Dam nodded, clearly pleased. He meshed his fingers together and held them up in front of me. “Eight points of contact working together for maximum efficiency, looking for weakness to go in for the kill.” He straightened his fingers emphasising his point. “Go in for the kill, Leo.”

  I was pumped when I entered the cage. Mother fucking Reaper was already in there dancing on the spot. He held a grudge and was obviously thrilled to have a chance to exact his revenge. The bell rung, signalling the first beat of the last dance. I knew without a shadow of a doubt I was physically fit, in the zone and I was going to win. Memories of the Perth fight flashed through my mind, and instead of regretful, I felt energised. I had needed that blow to hit rock bottom, and it was from that solid base that I was clawing my way back up. I narrowed my eyes on Reaper as he did on me. We were the two kings of the cage, but there was only room for one tonight. I wasn’t being arrogant or blowing hot air up my own arse. It was fact. Reaper was about to be dethroned.

  It wasn’t lion versus zebra. It was predator versus predator, and I was going to relish every second of taking him down. We both had the same idea at the same time and we moved quickly, engaging in a perfectly synchronised combination of jabs, hooks, uppercuts and straights. Reaper was a first class arsehole, but he was also a first class fighter. He met me head-on and, despite taking a few blows to the head, I fucking loved it. This was the challenge I had craved.

  I knew I could win easily if my opponent was more interested in entertaining the crowd or if they were clearly inferior in skill. Reaper was focused solely on me and his skillset was impressive. My edge would have to come by anticipating his moves and capitalising with killer blows. Reaper was a worthy player and, if he wasn’t such a douche outside the cage, I would’ve actually had some respect for him.

  It was time to lift my game, be smarter, fight harder and take this mother fucker down. The bastard had referred to Jules as a slut and spat in my face, and his mate had stuck a gun in my face. We’d been going at it long enough for me to start seeing a pattern in his movement, and he was no doubt seeing a pattern in mine. It was time to change it up and mess with the fucker’s mind. I needed Reaper unconscious.

  The crowd was deafening and the energy was electric as we both jogged on the spot, waiting for the moment to end this one way or the other. I knew he felt it too. One of us was about to go down, and I was determined it wasn’t going to be me. I saw his eyes flash with excitement. Then we both exploded in a frenzy of kicks and punches. His head tilted back in such a small movement, I could’ve easily missed it, but my instincts anticipated a head butt was coming my way. In a split second I raised my elbow like a hammer and smashed him in the face. I’d taken him by surprise, but I wasn’t done with Reaper yet. My final move required flexibility, technique and training as well as the perfect set up. I had all those bases covered.

  When Reaper locked his eyes on mine, I broke his gaze and looked down at his feet, giving him the impression I was going for a low leg kick. His eyes naturally followed mine, but by the time he realised his mistake, it was too late. I executed a killer high kick, pivoting on my standing leg while my shin and ankle did the work of knocking Reaper off his feet. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his whole body appeared to freeze before crumpling to the canvas.

  ***

  “Congrats, Leo.” Nick appeared at the door of my change room after Dam had left. “You were incredible.”

  “Thanks, mate.” I rubbed my head. “He landed a few good ones in, but I reckon he’ll have a headache tomorrow.”

  Nick laughed. “I reckon you might too.”

  I shrugged. “Probably.”

  “You heading home now?”

  I nodded, standing up and grabbing my bag. “Sure am. I have a beautiful girl waiting for me in bed. Why would I stick around here?”

  We walked out to the carpark and parted ways. “See you ’round, Leo.”

  I waved and turned towards my Jeep, parked at the far end of the lot. The lighting was terrible, and I had to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. As I reached in my bag to grab my car keys, I felt a jab in
my upper arm and then a heavy blow to the back of my head before everything went black as my knees gave way.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Juliette

  When I woke up, my room was light and I was alone. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, looking at the empty place on what had become Leo’s side of my bed. My stomach turned with worry. This wasn’t like him. I reached for my phone and saw a message from Nick. He’d sent it just after midnight.

  Leo’s with me.

  I released the breath I was holding and tears pricked my eyes. I had been terrified for his safety and the relief was overwhelming.

  Everything okay? I replied.

  His reply came back. He took a nasty blow to the head. I wanted to keep an eye on him.

  I sent Nick a text back, thanking him for letting me know and then I sent one to Leo asking him to call me when he could. I let him know the time I’d be training with Zac.

  I cleaned my apartment like a woman possessed. When I was worried about something, I became borderline obsessive compulsive. At eight thirty, I changed into my gym gear, put my headphones in and let P!nk once again meet my mood head-on as I jogged through the city to the gym. I was glad I could unleash on Zac the worry that had built up in my system.

  “What’s going on, Jules?” Zac asked when he stumbled backward, having held the pads up for me to punch in my warm-up.

  “Nothing.” I slammed my gloved fist into the mat, gritting my teeth.

  “Come on. I know you pretty well by now. What’s going on?”

  I stopped and bent over, resting my lower arms on my knees. I’d already exerted too much energy, but it had felt really good. When I stood back up, I looked into my friend’s concerned face. “Leo went to fight night last night and he wouldn’t let me go with him, and then I woke up alone. It wasn’t a good feeling, even when I found out he was okay.”

  Zac scrunched his face up. “Have you spoken to him today?”

  “No. I guess he’s still asleep.”