Brawler (DS Fight Club Book 4)

by Josie Kerr

  Darren offered to supplement Johnny’s official patrols, and Kyle said he’d swing by the apartment as well. At that, Annie dismissed all her frustration and irritation. Gathered here were a group of people that she barely knew but who were making sure she stayed safe. It was enough to make her cry, and she definitely couldn’t say anything in response to the magnanimity.

  Ashley reached around Annie’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “You’re family, honey. That’s all you need to know.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Oi! Move your feet more, boyo! That fuck’s going to catch you flat-footed and either knock your arse out or put your back on the mat. Move!”

  Pierce growled in the back of his throat. He was about this close to ripping off his wraps and storming over to Annie’s office. What he was going to do once there, he didn’t know, but after he got the call from Kyle Richards, who informed him that Annie had gotten a literal box of shit and bugs delivered to her office? Yeah, Pierce had just about lost his mind.

  “Fuck!” The bag caught him on the side of the face, and he smashed it with his fist, sending the speed bag flying off the drum.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Your fight is in five days. Five days, son.” Paddy trotted after Pierce, who had had enough and had stormed away from the now busted speed bag. “Pierce!” Paddy grabbed Pierce’s arm, and Pierce spun and cracked the Irishman across the jaw.

  The fight club became absolutely silent.

  “Shit! Paddy? Paddy?” Pierce dove to the ground and patted Paddy’s face. “Paddy?”

  “Pierce, back off. Let me check him out.” Ryan knelt down next to Paddy just as the man regained full consciousness.

  Pierce paced around behind Ryan, who performed a quick concussion check. Satisfied that Paddy wasn’t concussed, Ryan gripped Paddy’s hand and helped him up. Pierce stood awkwardly to the side and braced for a deluge of cursing and possible physical violence.

  Paddy pointed at Pierce. “That. That. Do that. First round. Cripes, I think Junior was right—you do hit harder than C.” Paddy massaged his jaw. “Okay, we’re even, now, yeah?”

  Pierce chuckled despite himself. Almost three years ago, Paddy had punched him square in the face, breaking his nose. Not that Pierce hadn’t deserved it, but yeah, no one expected that.

  “Paddy, you better fucking tell me if you’re having headaches or nausea or any of the things that point to a concussion,” Ryan warned. “Call it a day. Let C take over.” The cutman shook his head and began walking away. “Don’t think I won’t call Sheila,” Ryan called over his shoulder.

  “Fuck,” Paddy muttered under his breath. “Okay, boyo. It was almost quitting time anyway. Junior wants you to give him a call tonight. I sent him the tapes of you sparring with C, and I’m sure he’s got some feedback for you.” He cocked his head toward Pierce. “You okay? You’ve been real focused the since the start of camp, hell, since you started training again. Today, you were in the shitter.”

  Ugh.

  “Yeah, I got some news from Kyle Richards that wasn’t too great.” Pierce recapped what Kyle told him about Annie’s special package.

  Paddy whistled through his teeth. “That Andrea chippie has caused more trouble around here. Hopefully she’ll get caught and locked up tight, for good.”

  Pierce snorted. People like Andrea didn’t get caught, not unless they got really sloppy or the cops got really lucky. Last time, it was sheer luck that she’d been caught. Pierce was pretty sure Andrea wouldn’t let that happen again.

  After Pierce checked in with C and had checked out for the day, at least until after dinner, he relaxed in his room and let his mind wander. He and Annie had texted a bit, but things were awkward, as she didn’t know that Kyle had reported in with Pierce. Pierce waited for her to say something, but that never happened. He knew how important her independence was to her, but how to convince her that asking for help was perhaps the strongest thing she could do was beyond him.

  Still, something wasn’t sitting right with him about this latest development. While sneaky and shrewd, generally Andrea didn’t shy away from confrontation. A shit-filled box wasn’t her style at all, unless she had delivered it herself, hoping to unnerve Annie. He made a note to call Kyle and mention this, but for now, he had to talk to Junior.

  His phone buzzed in his hand even as he started to call the trainer.

  “Hey, Junior.”

  “What the actual fuck were you thinking, knocking Paddy down?”

  Well, shit. “My temper got the best of me,” Pierce admitted. “Everyone’s okay, though, so it’s all good.”

  “Aside from the fact that you could have blown it big-time, Paddy’s pretty impressed. I’d call that a win.”

  Pierce chuckled. They talked for a few minutes about the upcoming fight and what needed to be in place for these last few days of training camp. After that, things took a turn for the personal.

  “So, what’s going on with the girlie? Annie, right?”

  Pierce relayed the information from Kyle, but since Junior had experience with the craziness of Andrea, Pierce expressed his other concerns as well.

  “Have you told anyone else this? Kyle or Johnny?”

  “No, not yet. I was going to call Kyle after I talked to you.”

  “Definitely do that, and then call your lady next and reassure her.” Junior cleared his throat. “How was Ryan?”

  “He looked good and seemed to be in good spirits. He performed the concussion protocol, and Paddy was fine.”

  “Okay, good. Good.” Pierce could hear Junior crack his neck, even across the phone line. Sheesh. “Okay, Pierce, I gotta go run a late-night practice. Just keep on doing what you’re doing, and I’ll check back with you tomorrow.”

  “Remember, tomorrow’s the pre-fight presser.”

  “Oh, shit. Yeah, I’ll definitely be checking in with all of you tomorrow. These things turn into shit shows when someone breathes wrong. Just keep your head, dude. Keep your head.” Junior chuckled. “Man, I never thought I’d see the day when you’re the calm one. Holy shit.”

  Pierce laughed as well. “Hell, no one’s more surprised than I am.”

  They signed off, and then Pierce called Kyle. He had just hung up when he got a text.

  Sweet dreams, handsome.

  A selfie of Annie in that gown she wore the first night accompanied her text.

  Damn. Again, instantly hard.

  Pierce groaned and decided he couldn’t risk calling her because he’d ruin the easy flirtation they were enjoying. And he knew that he’d end up saying something awkward and then she would know that all the men had colluded behind her back, and that would both disappoint her and make her angry.

  So instead, he took his own selfie, with his first two fingers pressed to his lips, and hoped that everything would turn out all right for once.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “Why the hell do we always have to do pressers on their turf? Are they using trick quarters?” Dig groused.

  “Hell, I wouldn’t put it past them.” Colin cracked his neck. “You good, Pierce?”

  “Yep.”

  Pierce stared out the window of the van. He generally was a mess the last few days before a fight, but today, even though he felt uneasy, it wasn’t because of the upcoming fight. He had the fight. He was going to get into that cage, beat Bernard’s ass, and go home to Annie. He could hardly wait to be able to devote on hundred percent of his attention to her.

  “Damon!”

  “Huh?” Pierce dragged himself out of his own head and found everyone else in the van staring at him. Tig and Dig looked uneasy, Colin had a half smile on his face, as if he knew exactly what Pierce had been thinking, and Paddy, who called his name, scowled, his jaw purple and blue where Pierce’s fist made contact with his face.

  “I asked you if you remembered the game plan.” Paddy kept his voice low and steady.

  Pierce nodded. “Get in, don’t hit anyone, don’t throw anything, play nice,
get the fuck out.”

  “Good, you were listening to me.” Paddy shook his head. “It seems like all you boys meet your match right before the biggest fight of your life. That’s good. Either way, you’ll have someone there for you, to celebrate or help you lick your wounds.”

  When the men gawped at him, Paddy just snorted. “Oh, I didn’t say anything dirty. You boys are just a bunch of sex-deprived perverts. Let’s get this done.”

  The men from DS Fight Club met Bruce Pryde as they walked into the Raptor Pryde training facility.

  “Paddy, I want you to know I had nothing to do with—”

  While the rest of the DS Fight Club crew looked at Pryde in confusion, Pierce knew exactly what Pryde was talking about, and he focused on it with laser-like accuracy: Andrea. And not only was she at Raptor Pryde, she was wearing a Southland Promotions ring girl T-shirt.

  Fuck me.

  A hand gripped the back of Pierce’s neck like a vise. “Steady, man. Breathe through this. I’ll talk to Matt from SoPro and get her the fuck out of the event.” Paddy spoke low in his ear, and Pierce nodded, though his heart raced and he knew, absolutely knew, there was no way in hell he was going to be able to keep his cool.

  “Pierce, chill. I can guarantee that Raptor is trying to psych you out. Paddy, wait a beat. I’m going to call Johnny so he can arrest her crazy ass right here, right now.” Ryan had already pulled out his phone, his eyes glued to the blonde woman who was laughing loudly and darting heated and deadly looks toward the DS Fight Club crew.

  As Ryan stepped away, Jett Raptor approached them, stepping up to Bruce’s side. Pryde shook hands with each member of the team, but Raptor didn’t.

  “Damn, it’s like the Raptor Pryde team from three years ago.” Raptor shook his head. “Taking castoffs is no way to build a roster, Carmichael.”

  Colin stepped up to Raptor. “Turns out that some people’s trash is another’s treasure, especially if you realize what you’re getting.”

  “Treasure?” Raptor snorted.

  “I’m seeing a lot more fucking gold on this side.” Colin nodded at Tig and Dig, who wore their belts across their shoulders. “Even if they didn’t have those belts, I don’t have to worry about them pissing hot. Oh, and thanks for that twenty percent boost to Tig’s purse at that fight.”

  Pierce winced. Ouch. Raptor’s fighter didn’t make weight, resulting in a penalty that went directly into Tig’s bank account.

  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Paddy muttered. “Okay, while we’re having a friendly discussion, that woman has got to go. I know she was hired by the promotion company, but she’s not welcome. I’m going to talk to SoPro as soon as he gets here, but I warn you, if she stays, DS Fight Club will not be participating in this event. I don’t care how big of a penalty gets levied.”

  “What’s this about?” Matt from Southland Promotions approached the rival groups.

  Raptor snorted. “A ring girl. Looks like someone, no, two someones got their feelings hurt, and now they don’t want her to be a part of the event.”

  Pierce had had enough. “Fuck you, Raptor. She cleaned me out, took practically every fucking dime I had. In fact, she’s breaking the law right now. She’s supposed to be in Wisconsin, to stay in fucking Wisconsin. That’s what happens when you’re on parole.”

  Matt stared at Raptor. “What the hell, Jett? You know I don’t hire felons. I skipped the background check because you said she was clean.”

  Pierce, his emotions getting the best of him, stepped in front of Matt to get in Raptor’s face. “And I have a restraining order against her. She can’t be within three hundred yards of me, period.”

  “My wife and I have a restraining order against her as well.” Colin stepped up beside Pierce in solidarity and gave him a nod.

  Matt held up his hands. “Fuck this bullshit. She’s out.”

  Both fight clubs watched Matt stalk over to Andrea.

  Ryan slipped back into the group and said in a low voice, “They’re on their way.”

  They couldn’t hear the conversation, but the news was clear from Andrea’s outraged expression. She pushed Matt and stormed toward the group of men.

  “What the fuck? I don’t know which one of you pussies is trying to hamper my right to work, but—”

  “What the hell, Andrea? Where’s all the cash you stole from me? Huh? You know what, I don’t even care. I just don’t want to see you ever again. No, on second thought, I do want to see you—in an orange jumpsuit.”

  Andrea charged at Pierce. She hit him with the full force of her weight, slamming him in the chest. “God, you’re as bad as Carmichael. A fucking crybaby. And what is it with you guys and these little mousy women? I kind of expected it out of C. I think there’s something wrong with him anyway. What millionaire stays a virgin until they’re twenty-seven? Jesus. But you? Knowing your background? What the hell are you doing with that little thing? You’d split her in two.”

  “Stop.” Pierce’s voice was low and deadly. “You don’t ever say a word about her.”

  Andrea cackled. “I mean, you slept on the couch. She probably won’t even let you touch her. She seemed like a frigid bitch.”

  “Goddammit, Andrea, you shut the fuck up!” Pierce’s hands went up as he got in Andrea’s face. “Close your damn mouth!” He put his hands on her shoulders but stopped prior to pushing her down, though he was sorely tempted.

  But Andrea collapsed in a heap, crying out, “See? See how he is? I should be the one with the restraining order.”

  “Fucking A, Pierce.” Colin pulled him back, bracing his arm across Pierce’s chest. “Stop and think. Stop. And. Think.”

  The room erupted in chaos, with the other ring girls forming a protective shield with their bodies between Pierce and Colin and Andrea.

  “I didn’t push her, I swear. I swear I didn’t push her down.” Pierce panicked. An assault charge could get his fighter’s license pulled, a domestic violence charge could ensure that he never fought again. Holy fuck, what did I do?

  “Control your fighters, Carmichael,” Raptor sneered. “Like I said earlier: trash.”

  “Fuck you, Raptor.”

  “Oh, you don’t have your cop buddies to hide behind now? Oh yeah, I know that so-called wrestling coach is a vice cop. He has ‘pig’ written all over him.”

  “I said shut the fuck up, Raptor.” Colin wrapped his hands in Raptor’s shirt.

  Pierce glimpsed a moment of panic in Raptor’s expression before Colin lifted Raptor off the ground.

  “C! Shit. C, think about what you told me earlier. Think.”

  “This is the Fulton County Police Department, and Andrea Michaels, you are under arrest!” Johnny Richards, accompanied by five other officers, swarmed into the room.

  “There she is! She’s there!” Raptor yelled, pointing to a door that Andrea disappeared through. Colin dropped him and took off running until Ryan held him back.

  “C, let the cops take care of it. Easy, big guy, okay? You okay?” Ryan patted Colin’s chest even as he held on tight in case Colin decided to rush through the door.

  “Good Lord. God. You can let go, Goody. I’m good.” Colin swiped his hand across his face. “Shit.”

  Everyone stood around, the DS Fight Club, Raptor Pryde, and Matt and the ring girls divided into clumps, with Johnny Richards and a few other police eyeing the groups warily.

  A young cop pushed through the door, shaking his head. “She got away.”

  Johnny cursed.

  Jett Raptor pointed to Pierce. “Damon Pierce assaulted Andrea. We all saw it. He pushed her down.”

  Pierce’s frazzled nerves couldn’t take anymore. “Fuck you, Raptor. I’m done with you screwing me over. I could bury you if I wanted to. I could fucking bury you.” This time it took Colin and Ryan to hold Pierce back.

  “Are you fucking threatening me? Me? You owe me everything, Pierce. Everything!”

  “I owe you nothing, Raptor. Not a damn thing. And I didn’t push her. She
faked it, like she faked everything. She’s a fucking sociopath who needs to go away, permanently.” Pierce grunted and swung at the air. He stood with his back to the room, chest heaving.

  Tig clapped his hands together. “Well. This makes tossing a chair and a few bottles of Monster Energy look like playtime.”

  Pierce couldn’t help but laugh, and soon the others were laughing as well.

  What a fucking mess.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The distinctive thumping bass of Johnny Cash sounded through the auditorium as Pierce, Colin, Paddy, and Ryan made their way down the aisle to the octagon. Pierce rid himself of his shoes and track pants, and Colin helped him off with his shirt, but before he put in his mouth guard, Pierce scanned the first row for Annie.

  The moment he located her, Pierce reached across the metal guardrail and planted a hard kiss on her mouth. She grasped his face in her hands and kissed each cheek and then let him go with a nod. Pierce took a swallow of water, and Ryan popped his mouth guard in. Pierce then turned to the fight cutman to apply Vaseline to his skin and check his ears, and let the ref pat him down and check his gloves. Pierce tapped his cup, and with a nod to the ref and to his team, he bounded into the octagon.

  Pierce paced and bounced, slapping his chest and arms as he watched Shawn Bernard make his way to the cage. Known for “inadvertent” eye pokes and “accidental” small joint manipulation inside the cage, and less-than-consensual sex and general manhandling outside, Bernard was an asshole’s asshole. Even when Pierce was touted as the “bad boy of MMA,” Bernard made him look like a Boy Scout.

  And especially because of the insanity at the presser, Pierce was ready for anything. Before the fight, as Ryan was wrapping Pierce’s hands, Colin had held a cell phone up to his head while Junior, trapped in snowy Buffalo, New York, with a college wrestling champion who had a bad case of the nerves and an even worse habit of not listening to his corners, rattled off some last-minute advice.

  Keep your focus.

  Fight your fight.

  Bring the violence.