by Josie Kerr
Brawler
A DS Fight Club Novel
Josie Kerr
This is a work of fiction and does not in any way advocate irresponsible behavior. This book contains content that is not suitable for readers 17 and under. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
Any resemblance to actual things, events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, products, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and ownership of any location names or products mentioned in this book. The author received no compensation for any mention of said trademark.
Edited by Bethany Pennypacker
Cover image:
Design: HWCC Author Services
Photographer: RLS Model Images
Model: Justin Keeton
Copyright © 2017 Josie Kerr
Published by Hot Words and Cold Coffee, LLC
All rights reserved.
Digital Edition
To the Survivors
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Epilogue
Playlist
Chapter One
Damon Pierce kept his head down as he passed the manager’s office of the extended-stay motel that he’d been calling home for the past few months. He noticed the assistant manager redirect the bullish manager’s attention to something in the office when she caught sight of Pierce. The skittish woman was the only thing he’d miss about this shithole.
Pierce let himself into his motel room and began cleaning out the cheap dresser, wincing when he bent at the waist. He didn’t have enough cash to stay another week, and thanks to the cut in his gut, he wasn’t going to be able to earn any doing physical labor for a while.
Fuck. He didn’t relish sleeping in his truck for a week or two, especially with the knife wound in his abdomen, but he’d been worse off before. Way worse off.
Pierce groaned as he lifted the duffel bag that contained all of his clothes and gear and placed it onto the bed to close it. He zipped up the bag and looked at the cardboard box next to the bed, trying to decide if he had time to make two trips before the manager either deactivated his key or tried to shake him down for a “late checkout” fee, which the jackass would invariably pocket.
A loud knock made up his mind for him, and he piled the duffel on top of the box.
“Just a sec,” he called through the closed door. He slung the duffel over one shoulder and hefted the box with a wince. He did one last survey of the room and headed toward the door.
With a resigned grunt, he opened the door, expecting to face the sweaty, red-faced manager, but instead, the last man Damon Pierce ever expected to see leaned on the door frame.
“Carmichael. Uh, hey.” Pierce could feel the stitches in his belly pull as he shifted the box’s weight to one side.
Colin Carmichael, owner of DS Fight Club, looked Pierce up and down. “You look pretty good for someone who got stabbed in the stomach a few days ago.”
Pierce shrugged, unsure how to respond.
Colin’s intense ice-blue gaze unnerved Pierce, but he still didn’t say anything.
Finally, Colin rolled his eyes and extended his hands to take the box.
Pierce was so shocked that he handed the box over.
“Where are you staying now?” Colin shifted the box under one arm and motioned for Pierce to hand over the duffel. “And don’t spew a bunch of bullshit, Pierce. Tell me.”
“Uh, I’m in between places right now. I’ll probably crash with a friend for a few nights until I figure out a more permanent solution.” Pierce held on to his duffel. He needed something to keep him from running as fast as he could away from Colin Carmichael, former heavyweight champion.
Colin blew out a breath and shook his head. “I’m going to ignore that steaming pile you just told me. I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Yeah?” Pierce’s interest was piqued.
“Come fight for me.”
“Excuse me?”
Colin jerked his head toward the door. “Clear your shit out of this hellhole and come fight for Doyle’s South. There’s an empty apartment in the dormitory—the room’s part of the deal if you want to stay on-site. Get back to real training, legitimate fights. Get back on your feet.”
Pierce couldn’t believe his ears because he didn’t have the kind of luck for a big-time rival to have a change of heart toward him. But Pierce knew Colin Carmichael wasn’t one to idly mention things and not follow through.
“You’re serious?”
Colin nodded. “Yep, if you want it. You’re going to have to work your ass off. I mean, after your belly heals. And we’re gonna set some firm ground rules—no off-the-books fights, period. I find out you’re anywhere near an illegal cage match, regardless of whether you’re fighting or not, you’re out. No questions asked, no excuses accepted. I don’t need to tell you that I’m the last legitimate gym that would offer you anything. Raptor made sure he burned every fucking bridge you had after that last fight.”
Shit. “That last fight” was a shit show of epic proportions. Pierce had lost his damn mind—over a woman, of all things—and had broken Colin’s jaw and snapped his arm in a vicious, unnecessarily rough move. Pierce had won the fight, technically, but he lost much more: because of his unsportsmanlike conduct, he lost his place on the Raptor Pryde roster and had gotten a stiff fine from the fight promotion’s governing bodies. And then, as added insult, the woman he’d been all torqued up about turned out to be a con with her eyes set on Carmichael. She ended up arrested and extradited, but not before she’d cleaned out all of Pierce’s savings and checking accounts, close to seven figures.
Yeah, that last fight left Pierce with no gym, no woman, and a single five-dollar bill in his wallet.
God, that sucked.
Colin snapped his fingers in front of Pierce’s face. “Dude. You in or out? I’m thinking that guy that fancies himself as The Big Dick is headed down here to throw your ass out, right?”
Shit.
Pierce stared at Colin, who looked back steadily at him.
Pierce shook his head in resignation and then nodded. “I’m in.”
What do I have to lose? It couldn’t get worse.
Carmichael grinned and pulled the duffel off Pierce’s shoulder. “Welcome to DS Fight Club. Let’s get your ass out of this pit and get some food in your belly, and then we’ll figure shit out.”
Colin set off down the hall, carrying all of Pierce’s earthly belongings. Pierce put the key on
the dresser in the motel room and then trotted out behind him. As the two men walked past the motel office, Annie, the assistant manager, gave Pierce a shy grin and a nod and then turned away.
“This is it. It’s small, but it’s secure. Dig’s next door when he gets sprung from the hospital, though I’m guessing that he’ll be staying with the Maldonados for a while.” Colin leaned against the grey cinderblock wall of Pierce’s new apartment. Pierce could feel the big fighter’s eyes on him, and it made his skin prickle like it always did. Colin Carmichael’s ice-blue eyes always seemed to bore down to your essence, allowing him to know every single thing about you, even things you might not know yourself.
And now Pierce was going to be dealing with him every single day. He just hoped his nerves could take it.
“It looks great. Um, thanks, man.”
Colin nodded once. “I’m glad to have you. Seriously. So, now you heal up, and then we’ll get to the real work. Things are kind of in flux right now anyway, so, you know, we’ll just be flexible.”
“In flux, like with Maldonado?”
Colin barked a laugh. “Junior always said that fighters are huge gossips.”
Pierce shook his head. “I’m kind of out of touch with the grappling grapevine. I was talking about the fact that your trainer fucking got shot. He’s going to be out of the game for a while, no?”
“He’s been going back and forth to Jersey for the past four months or so. Now that MMA is legal in New York State, he’s been working with fighters at the gym where we started out. His family’s up there, except for baby sister, Nanda, and he’s got other ties, so . . . yeah. Like I said, we’re in flux.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard you say this much in the whole time I’ve known you, C.” Pierce shook his head in wonder. “I’d heard you loosened up some.”
“Gossips.” Colin winked. “I’ll let you get settled in. Text me if you need anything, okay? I’ll catch you later.” Colin left the bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaving Pierce alone in his new home.
Pierce exhaled, suddenly exhausted. He shook his head in wonder, again, at how fast life could change. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he was counting his money and trying desperately to figure out what he could sell or pawn to make his weekly rent, and he was coming up blank. Now he had a new job, a steady paycheck, and a clean, safe apartment.
Maybe karma was done using him as her chew toy.
Probably not, because Pierce didn’t have that kind of luck. But until the shine inevitably disappeared, he was going to enjoy the hell out of it.
Chapter Two
The big, quiet man had nodded to Annie as he followed another huge man through the parking lot.
Damon Pierce, room 124. Quiet. No visitors, ever. Paid his rent in cash, mostly on time. Drove a truck, older, but too nice for a place like this. She was surprised that it hadn’t been broken into or vandalized.
“Annie!”
Annie jumped when her husband slapped his hand on the counter in front of her.
“I said, did you know he was leaving today?”
“Who?”
“Room 124.”
“No, did he check out?”
“The room is empty, and the key’s on the dresser, so yeah, he’s gone.” Jeff shook his head. “After all the ruckus he caused, he owes me, uh, us.”
“Okay.”
“See if you can track down his cell phone number. I wanna talk to him.”
“Okay.” Not on your life.
Jeff narrowed his eyes at her. “You two have something going on? I noticed he was down here an awful lot.”
Annie shook her head, her eyes averted. Her heart thumped in her chest, and she hoped that she wasn’t as flushed as she felt. Damon Pierce didn’t come to the office any more often than any of the other weekly tenants; he’d just been there more consistently than the others. He was always polite and didn’t tell her to smile or try to get her to talk. But she could tell that he always watched, that he was aware of a lot of little things most people were oblivious to.
She liked him. She actually might have had a crush on him, which was ridiculous. She was thirty-three years old. Thirty-three-year-old married women didn’t have crushes on big, bald, tattooed men—unless said men were movie stars or professional athletes.
But still. When he locked those unusual hazel eyes on her, she felt all squirrelly, got all tingly. Very much like she’d felt when Jeff first started courting her. Before . . . Just . . . before.
Was there a seventeen-year itch? Maybe that’s what she had.
“I gotta run some errands.” He put on his coat. “I’ll be back later.”
“I have class this afternoon.” Her hands began to sweat. “I have a test. I can’t miss it.”
Jeff narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought you had a test last week.”
“I – I did. That was a midterm. I have another one today. To make sure we’re ready to pass the first certification.”
“I suppose you need money, then.”
“Yes, sir.” He liked it when she called him sir. She hated it, but she wasn’t stupid.
“Three hundred again?” He pulled out his wallet and began to count off crisp twenties.
“Yes, sir.” Annie decided to press her luck. “But I need to pay for the certification test as well. That’s another two hundred.” She held her breath.
“Well, I guess I’ll consider it an investment, right? You have to spend money to make money. After you get your real estate license, we’ll have it made.” He looked at her with an appraising eye. It made her skin crawl. He peeled off another ten bills. “Yes, that will be fine.”
“Thank you, Jeff.”
“Call Tim in. He owes me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jeff grabbed his keys off the counter. “And just because you have this test, it doesn’t mean you get to avoid making dinner. I don’t want any sort of boxed nonsense that you threw in the oven. I want meat loaf and those potatoes that you make.”
“Yes, sir.” She made her face as bland as possible.
Jeff chucked her under the chin, which she also hated, and then left. When she was sure he was going to stay gone, she picked up the phone and dialed a number, a number she’d never called before but had committed to heart.
The line rang once, and Annie heard a chipper voice say, “Standings Real Estate, Ashley Richards speaking.”
Annie closed her eyes and said a little prayer. “Miss Richards, this is Annie Waycoff. You know, from the real estate class? Um, I’m . . .”
“Are you safe, Annie?”
“Yes. He’s distracted by some other things.”
“Well, good. Are you ready?”
Annie blew out a breath. “More than you’ll ever, ever know.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Chapter Three
Two months later
Annie Hedges
Real Estate Locator
Annie ran her fingers over the nameplate, hoping that feeling the engraving would make this whole thing seem more real.
It didn’t. If anything, it freaked her out more. She had to meet expectations now. She was on her own, supporting herself, with no one to fall back on. But then, she was also on her own, supporting herself, with no one to answer to.
The good definitely outweighed the bad.
What a difference nine weeks could make. A serendipitous suggestion by the owner of an extended-stay motel where she and her now ex-husband worked changed her whole life. She’d researched real estate schools, and Jeff had told the owners the cost of the course. And then, in typical Jeff fashion, he’d enrolled her in a much cheaper school and pocketed the difference.
His cheapness turned out to be Annie’s introduction to her savior, Ashley Richards. Ashley Richards, head agent and part owner of Standings Real Estate, was a brash former beauty queen who told it like it was. She warned that most of the people in the class would be unsuccessful, that they would fail. She got in th
eir faces, told them flat out that they were Doing It Wrong. She scared Annie to death, and Annie desperately wanted to be like her.
And that fateful day that Ashley had asked Annie to stay after class, Annie thought she was going to throw up. Actually, she had thrown up in the public bathroom. And after popping a piece of gum in her mouth, she had gone to face the intimidating woman.
Ashley had simply said, “I want you to memorize this number. And when you’re ready, you call me. I will help you take care of yourself.”
The magic words: “I will help you take care of yourself.”
That was all Annie wanted.
And so she’d waited for almost a month. Life with Jeff had become unbearable and scary, so she called the number Ashley had forced her to memorize. Then Ashley had taken her out to breakfast and interrogated her about her skill set. She had actually squealed and clapped and then pulled out her phone and barked at whoever was on the other end that she’d found a new locator who was going to start tomorrow.
Ashley had gotten Annie a furnished apartment in a secure building and let her drive a company car until she could afford to buy one. She had dropped Annie off at her new apartment and gave her a card for a divorce attorney, telling her to call the man and give him Jeff’s information and that he’d take care of it. And then she’d blown out of Annie’s new apartment as suddenly as she’d appeared at the motel to rescue her.
Annie had shown up at the Standings Real Estate offices the next day to find that she actually had a paid internship with a guaranteed job after she finished her coursework, which was also paid for, and a small office, health insurance, and paid time off. She’d allowed herself three hours to freak out, but then when she and Ashley and the head broker, Robert Standings, got back from lunch, Annie decided that this position was not just an elaborate joke.
She got to work.
Now, she was one test short of being a licensed agent, she’d made a few nice commissions from locating properties that fit some apparently very picky clients’ needs, and she was actually considering joining Ashley for a cardio kickboxing class even though it meant interacting with a bunch of people that she didn’t know, in what was essentially her underwear.
