Brawler (DS Fight Club Book 4)

by Josie Kerr

  For all the brave things she’d done in the past three months, Annie wasn’t completely convinced that she was ready to do that.

  “You ready to work off some frustrations, lady?” Ashley loomed in Annie’s doorway, her almost-six-foot frame clad in skin tight, fire-engine-red spandex.

  Oh, wow. Annie didn’t think she’d ever be confident enough to wear an outfit like that, much less if she was still sporting some baby weight from having triplets. Yes, her boss had triplets, and not only that, but she had another set of twins that were a mere thirteen months older. That was five children under the age of two. Annie almost swooned just thinking about the logistics of Ashley’s life.

  “Annie?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am! Yes, I am. I was just thinking about that list of properties you gave me earlier and people who might be a match for them.”

  Ashley shook her head. “You definitely need to get your head out of the office. Go change and then you can follow me to the fight club. We’re gonna kick some butt!” She whooped and kicked her long leg up in a Rockette-worthy high kick. “Come on, girl. Chop-chop. Just because the owner’s son is my baby daddy doesn’t mean he’ll excuse my being late to class.”

  Annie blinked—baby daddy?—but sprang from her chair, grabbed her tote bag, and sprinted to the restroom to change.

  Twenty minutes later, Annie was inside the DS Fight Club MMA training facility, eyes wide at the loud southern rock that blared over the speakers and all the big, sweaty men that seemed to be absolutely everywhere.

  You can do this, Ann Marie. You said you wanted to meet people and do something completely different, and this is both, so just suck it up, buttercup. Be a big girl and power through this.

  Annie followed Ashley’s lead as she made her way toward the back of the busy gym. Several of the fighters stopped and greeted Ashley, and Ashley made a point to introduce Annie to any and everyone who said hello. Annie was good with names, but she’d never remember them all.

  As she stepped into the classroom, she could feel the prickle of anxiety that had plagued her all her life. The mirrored walls and bright overhead lighting didn’t do anything to lessen the beginnings of tightness in her chest.

  Annie breathed in through her nose and blew air out her mouth, hoping that people wouldn’t notice the circles of sweat that already ringed her underarms and neckline.

  You need to stay in the room, Annie. Leaving the room will just make it harder to come back.

  Annie hung back as Ashley gabbled with the women in the class, even as she introduced them. Just when she didn’t think she could smile at one more unknown person, Ashley’s best friend, Em, waved at Annie and gave her an understanding and encouraging smile.

  “Hi, Annie. It’s so nice to see you again.” Em smiled sweetly at her and patted her shoulder. “I know, sugar. It’s all a bit much to take in. But don’t worry—the instructor is super sweet and no one will even blink if you need to step back and take a breather. I know I do every single class. Don’t worry about a thing. This is supposed to be fun.”

  Annie smiled weakly at Em. “It is, isn’t it? I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

  But she did. The reality of being able to do anything she wanted was very different from wishing she was able to do anything she wanted. The seventeen-year habit of obeying when being told what to do and when to do it was proving harder to break than she’d anticipated.

  “Hey, y’all. Welcome to DS Fight Club’s Stress Buster Cardio Kickboxing class. I’m Tig Mashburn, and I hope all of you are ready to have some fun and kick some booty! Do we have any first-timers here tonight?”

  “Oh!” A giggle escaped from Annie. The instructor was not at all what she expected. All the cardio kickboxing commercials were filled with muscular, black-clad men with either shaved heads or Fabio-esque locks. But this fellow? He was about six feet tall, but whip thin, wearing a pair of crazy tiger-striped leggings and a tank top that matched his bright blue mohawk. Annie immediately liked him, especially when he winked and smiled broadly when she raised her hand timidly.

  After explaining the format of the class and reassuring the participants that, yes, they could take as many breaks as they needed, Tig began to warm up, and Annie kept up, at least for a while.

  She was fine during the warm up, but sometime during Round One of the workout, the prickly feeling in her chest returned, and Annie began to have problems breathing. She slipped to the back of the classroom and jogged in place, meeting Tig’s inquiring glance and nodding to assure him that she was just taking a break, despite the little voice in her head that was telling her to flee. She remained near the far wall through the rest of Round One, but when Round Two started, she knew she had to get out of that classroom.

  Chapter Four

  “You joining us for karaoke tonight?” Dominic “Dig” DiGiacomo nodded at Pierce, and the two men moved the heavy practice mat back to the stack beside the wall. “I know they probably miss you at Foley’s.”

  Pierce huffed a laugh. He had worked at Foley’s for a time when he had been blacklisted from all the other gyms and the underground fights had dried up. It was an okay job, as far as bouncing jobs went, as Foley’s clientele was generally well behaved and they didn’t get a lot of underage kids trying to get in. He briefly considered joining the other fighters, but the thought of drinking water all night made him reconsider.

  “Yeah, no, man. I’m gonna have to pass.” He cleared his throat. “I really gotta watch my funds for a while.”

  At Dig’s confused frown, Pierce groaned inwardly and decided to admit something so embarrassing that it made him sick to his stomach.

  “She cleaned me out. Took every cent I had in both my savings and checking accounts.”

  “What? Who? That Andrea chick?”

  “Yeah. She’s supposed to be providing restitution, but because she got extradited to another state, it’s a little more complicated and things are moving pretty slowly.”

  “How much did she take? If you don’t mind me asking?” Dig leaned against the wall. “Was it that much?”

  Pierce cleared his throat. “Almost seven figures.” At Dig’s shocked look, he just shook his head resignedly. “I know, man. I know. I did so many things wrong in that situation, from the way I handled my finances to the trust I put in that crazy-ass woman. I should have known she was going to screw me over as soon as I saw the look on her face when C caught us fucking in the bathroom.”

  “Dude, you . . .” Dig’s mouth hung open, and Pierce flushed crimson.

  “Yeah, I did. She told me that they had broken up, but really, he’d told her he couldn’t see her while he was in camp.” Pierce barked a bitter laugh. “I even heard her talking to one of her friends later, telling her that she was trying to keep her options open in case I didn’t win the title elimination. But at the time, she had this sob story, and I just couldn’t let C take advantage of her.”

  “She said Colin was taking advantage of her?”

  Pierce grunted. “Yeah, I know.”

  Colin Carmichael was incapable of taking advantage of anybody. A crafty fighter who could exploit any and every opponent’s weakness in the octagon, Carmichael was softhearted and trusting outside of the cage, often to his own personal detriment—at least, in the past. He’d gotten a lot shrewder in the past two years, now that he had a family to take care of.

  Pierce cleared his throat. “Now you know how much of an idiot I am, okay? I was all fucked up when I pulled that shit with you and C last time. I let Raptor and Andrea get into my head.”

  Dig shook his head. “Man, I know how persuasive Raptor can be. I swear that guy does some type of hypnosis. I made plenty of bad decisions when I was at Raptor Pryde, and I wasn’t nearly as hard up from the beginning as you were.”

  Pierce bristled. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

  Dig held up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, hey. Didn’t mean to step over the line there, buddy.”

  “What the fuck do y
ou mean?”

  “Dude. Everyone knows you were a homeless orphan before you joined the Raptor Pryde roster. Feelings of abandonment and all that shit? I’m just saying I totally get why you got hoodwinked.”

  What the actual fuck. Pierce’s vision went white with rage. He’d told Raptor about his situation and his past only after the team owner had promised it would remain confidential. Goddamn. Yet another lying betrayal.

  “Hey, Pierce. Pierce, dude?”

  Pierce forced himself to look at Dig despite his humiliation, but he didn’t trust himself to say anything.

  Dig grabbed Pierce’s shoulder. “I haven’t said anything to anyone about what Raptor said. All C knows is that Raptor found you on the illegal fight circuit in Chicago, okay? I’m not going to say anything. I give you my word.”

  Pierce searched Dig’s gaze for any sign of duplicity, but he found nothing except the earnest need for understanding. Pierce nodded and slapped Dig on the back.

  “It’s all good, dude; it’s all good. But I think I’m still gonna have to pass on Foley’s.”

  “Sure. Maybe next time?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Dominic!”

  Dig grinned. “My lady calls. See ya, Pierce.”

  The men bumped fists, and Pierce watched Dig jog to the front desk, where he planted a heated kiss on the mouth of the manager of DS Fight Club, Nanda Maldonado. When Nanda saw Pierce staring, she flipped him off but then grinned and shrugged. Pierce chuckled but felt a small glow of pride, knowing it was his quick thinking that saved Nanda from a potentially fatal kidnapping. That was one thing in the past three years that he could really feel good about. He waved at Nanda and Dig and headed the classrooms to reach the stairs that led to the DS Fight Club apartments.

  He had just passed the kickboxing classroom when a woman rushed out of the door and collapsed onto one of the benches that lined the wall. She gasped for air, her breathing shallow and rushed.

  Pierce was next to her in three large strides.

  “Hey, are you okay? Do you have asthma? Do you need an inhaler?”

  The woman looked up at him, and he felt a bolt of recognition. It was Annie, the sweet, skittish assistant manager from that shitty Red Top Lodge.

  “Annie, what’s happening? Try to tell me.”

  “P-p-pan . . .” She struggled to speak, but Pierce realized what she was trying to say.

  He bent down and grasped her hands. “Okay, listen to me, Annie. I want to you to count with me by threes, okay? You don’t have to say the number, but concentrate on counting even if it’s only in your head, okay? Let’s start. Three, six, nine, twelve . . .”

  Pierce continued to count until they reached ninety-nine, and by that time, Annie was breathing almost normally.

  “That’s good, Annie. That’s real good, okay?” He smiled at her.

  Chapter Five

  Annie felt a burning on the back of her neck, a sure sign that she was about to turn beet red and wish she were dead. Damn these panic attacks! She’d been doing so well since she left Jeff—she’d just had one small attack before her first solo showing, but she’d managed to tamp it down until after the couple left the property. (She’d bawled her head off and hyperventilated for a good fifteen minutes after, but hey, it could have been worse, right?)

  Annie opened her eyes to see two large, rough hands holding hers. The hands squeezed hers gently, and Annie looked up and locked eyes with the handsome man who had talked her through her anxiety attack.

  “I know you,” she whispered when she had enough air to speak.

  “Yeah, kinda. We were never really introduced, though. Hi, I’m Damon Pierce.”

  She inwardly groaned. Of all the people to run into while gasping for air like a fish flopping on the bottom of a boat.

  Damon Pierce.

  Of course she’d known his name. She knew the name of everyone who stayed at the Red Top Lodge more than a night. The quiet giant had scared her half to death the first time she crossed paths with him, with his shaved head, dark sable beard, and intense gaze. The fact that he’d been incredibly soft-spoken and polite unnerved her even more. Add in the fact that he was about six and a half feet tall, densely muscled, heavily tattooed, and incredibly good-looking, it was no wonder she was reduced to a gibbering state of idiocy when she encountered him. He probably thought she was simple.

  The fact that Damon Pierce knew her name came as a shock. They’d barely interacted, just in passing when he dropped his weekly rent off, and even then, only when Jackass Jeff took a quick smoke break. Jeff generally insisted on collecting the rent fees; Annie assumed it made it easier to skim off the top.

  Annie snatched her hands away. “I’m fine. You can go now.”

  The big man snorted. “Well, okay then, missy. I’m glad you got it under control.” He rocked back on his heels and stood up. “I’ll be on my way.” He shook his head and began to walk away, muttering under his breath.

  “Oh, shoot.” Annie stood up and called after the retreating fighter. “Damon! Damon, wait!”

  He stopped and swiveled his head around, cocking one eyebrow as if to say, “Yeah?”

  “God, I’m sorry. I . . . ,” Annie stammered. She couldn’t quite get her words to come out, but then Pierce’s eyes softened, and she thought she saw the faintest ghost of a smile appear on his lips. She blew out a calming breath and attempted to begin again. “What I meant to say was, ‘Thank you.’ Thanks. I usually don’t get so flustered but that instructor was going so fast and I got really hot and kind of confused and everyone else knew what they were doing and . . .”

  Pierce had walked back across the room and now stood staring down at her with an amused expression on his handsome face.

  Oh Lord.

  “I’m babbling.”

  He nodded. “Yep. Can we try this again?”

  Annie nodded back and stuck out her hand. “Annie Hedges. Nice to meet you.”

  “Damon Pierce, but everyone calls me by my last name.” He took her hand in that big, calloused paw of his. “Nice to meet you, too, Annie Hedges.”

  Annie counted to twelve before he let her hand go, and then tried desperately to think of something halfway intelligent to say.

  Can I lick you? was the only thing that came to mind, and yeah, so unintelligent that it was actually painful.

  Pierce cleared his throat. “Um, so.”

  And people streamed into the hallway because class ended.

  “Annie, honey, where did you go?” Ashley placed herself directly in front of Pierce. “I looked back and didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I just got a little overwhelmed. I came outside to get a little space, and Pierce helped me . . .” Annie’s voice trailed off, and she shrugged.

  Ashley snapped her head toward Pierce, who had nodded a good-bye to Annie and quickly disappeared down the hall.

  “Damon Pierce helped you?” Ashley asked incredulously. “Wow, will wonders ever cease?”

  Annie frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he’s got a whole lot of bad behavior in his past, Annie.”

  “Huh. He’s always been pleasant to me.”

  “Always? You’ve had other dealings with him?”

  Annie shrugged. “He lived at the motel for a few months. He’s always been nice. And today . . .”

  Ashley’s gaze softened. “What happened, sugar? Was it something like your little spell a few weeks ago?”

  Annie cringed with the realization that Ashley knew she’d almost come undone. “Yeah. I . . . get panic attacks. They’re usually not too bad, but I just got overwhelmed in class today. I think it was the combination of temperature and how fast the instructor was moving and all the people. Just everything. I don’t think that class is for me. I should probably stick to yoga, something a bit more low-key.”

  Ashley gave her shoulder a friendly bump. “Do you want to get something to eat? Carbs make everything better.”

  Annie stumbled throu
gh the door three hours later, both exhausted and exhilarated. She had gone out in the middle of the week, had several glasses of beer, and put her extensive knowledge of movies, television, and country music to use during trivia night.

  She’d never done any of those things before, much less in one night.

  She didn’t know if it was because of the beer or the general friendliness of the people at the bar, but Annie ended up blurting out a recap of the last seventeen years of her life, telling Ashley just about everything.

  Ashley had said she wanted to kick Jeff’s ass.

  Annie bet she could.

  They had talked for a few hours, possibly more than Annie had ever talked in her life. They swapped stories, good and bad, and Ashley gave her hope and made her laugh. And Annie thought she just might have made her first adult friend.

  After winning a fifty-dollar gift certificate to Foley’s, Ashley had hugged Annie and reminded her that she needed to live, not just be alive.

  So now, spurred by that conversation and Auntie Mame on the television, Annie sat at her kitchen table, in her nightgown, eating boxed mac and cheese directly from the pan. A notepad in front of her, she gripped her favorite purple pen and wrote a headline on a clean, lined page.

  Live Live Live!

  That was scary.

  She licked her lips and wrote some more. And more.

  It wasn’t quite so scary anymore.

  Soon the pages were filled with momentous things, silly things, and some things that she had already done just so she could mark them off the list.

  The phone rang. Annie checked the clock. It wasn’t even that late! That prompted another entry.

  Stay up all night.

  She scribbled as she picked up the phone.

  “I was thinking. I know, scary as hell, right?” Ashley said with no greeting or introduction. “You’re coming out with us on Friday. You remember Em, right? Her husband and Rory have friends in a band that comes through—they’ll be playing that night.”