“You’re alright, Asher.” He didn’t say anything else as he and John headed toward the sparring gear.
She was more than alright. As she turned, her gaze lit on me and a spark zinged between us. But rather than focus on that, she slid her gaze past me to Gunner and then she walked toward the body bags as she’d been instructed earlier. A mild glistening of perspiration covered her skin and her chest rose and fell.
She’d looked at Gunner. She didn’t know she was supposed to be mine. She didn’t know that everything about her belonged to me.
And for once, I was finally willing to accept it. I just had no idea what to do about it.
Chapter 20
Gray
I didn’t wait around after practice, making my way to the locker room where I grabbed my bag and my gear and got out of there. I wasn’t even going to try to change in the suddenly over-sized area.
The other guys wouldn’t be done showering or changing for a bit and I could go to my truck without worrying about running into them.
Exhaustion weighed on me, pulling at my shoulders and pushing on my feet. I could have been walking through water for all the energy I had.
I’d parked the truck by the trees earlier that morning and as I made my way across the blacktop, I glanced up at the lighter afternoon sky.
The weather in the northwest was temperamental at best, bitchy at worst. I swear it couldn’t decide if it was raining, snowing, or shining so the cloud hung heavy above the trees but I was still in danger of getting a sunburn.
“Gray, psst, Gray, come here!” Chris called to me from the periphery of the parking lot, in the same area I’d seen him when I first got to the school.
I smiled, shaking my head. “Hey, Chris, what are you doing?” I hadn’t seen him in a while, even to the point that I had wondered if Jasmine had killed him.
He pushed his glasses up his nose and stared past me as if the tree he hid behind was enough to keep him hidden. After he ascertained no one followed me, he motioned me closer into the shadows of the trees. “I haven’t been at school in a while. I’ve been working.”
I furrowed my brow. Working? How was that possible? I studied Chris. He couldn’t be older than me and with his acne-riddled skin, he looked much younger. “Where do you work?”
He pulled back, pressing his shoulders against the tree and cocking his head to the side. “Why? Who wants to know?”
I turned to face him more fully and folded my arms across my chest. Blinking, I scrunched my nose. “What are you talking about? You said you’ve been working, I asked where you work. What is the problem?” I was too tired to play games and if Chris turned out to be one of those conspiracy theorists, I would have to walk away.
He stared at me, hard, his eyes narrowing the longer he looked.
“I’m not in the mood for this, man. Done.” I shook my head and moved to step past him, but he reached out, pressing me back with one hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I just… if I tell anyone and they find out, I’ll lose the job. My family really needs this money and I think I got the job because you stuck up for me.” He no longer looked at me like I was trying to sell him a quart of air. No, his expression had taken on one of hero worship and I definitely wasn’t comfortable with that.
I shifted in my tennis shoes and folded my arms. “Look, it’s no big deal. I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about, though.”
“I work for…” He shook his head. “No, seriously, I could lose my job and if you tell them… I’ll for sure lose it.” He glanced back over his shoulder in the direction I’d come from, then back to me. His puppy love look hardened and he asked dryly, “So, the story is you’re both off limits and on highest demand. Which is it?”
“You’re talking crazy, Chris. I have no idea what you’re talking about. A job and now this? All I know is the school isn’t throwing pepper bombs at me anymore. At least for the last few days.” I winced, remembering how cruel the students had been. Even now, as they ignored me and walked around me without really acknowledging that I was there, my feelings were raw and I needed some down time every night to try to recover. “You weren’t kidding about limbo being the worst kind of hell.” I laughed but not enough to bring a smile to my face.
That night, I had a serious plan to get my stress relieved and the longer I stood there chatting up Chris, the less time I had to get to ready.
“I’ve just never seen anything like it. You’re being called the Ice Queen, a lesbian, Jasmine’s bitch, and a few other names all while everyone knows they can’t even attempt to touch you in any way. There’s even a rumor that Jasmine paid you to kiss her to get Stryker to pay attention to her.” His eyes widened more and his eyebrows almost reached his hairline. “The craziest thing is they’re still taking bets on which Jameson you’ll be sleeping with by this weekend.”
I huffed in a semblance of a laugh but that’s as far as my humor went. Sleeping with a Jameson when I couldn’t even get full sentences out of all of them? That would be the day. Blaze talked to me all the time and I’d refused to sleep with him. Where did the Jamesons get off thinking they had any special privileges or rights?
“I’m not going to be sleeping with any Jamesons this weekend. I’d rather sleep with a random stranger than get anywhere near those buys.” Anger curdled inside me and I realized it was only a matter of time when I blew.
I had to get home, get my fight gear and head back to The Pike. There was only so much stress a girl could take.
I was at my limit.
Chris pushed away from the tree and ran his hand through his oily hair. “So, wait. You’ll sleep with anyone but them?” His overeager voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “There are some parties this weekend. Do you want to go with me?”
I offered a weak smile. How sad that the only thing he’d heard was that I would rather sleep with anyone else than the Jameson boys and he immediately wanted to volunteer for the job. I shook my head and stepped back into the modicum of daylight, albeit filtered through the clouds. “Thanks, but I have a fight. I’ll see you Monday.” I didn’t have any intention of attending any parties in Idaho all weekend. I was still trying to figure out how to get Sara to come out with me. I didn’t want to deal with the Jamesons which meant I had to stay on the Timbercreek side.
No matter how much they threatened me.
I wasn’t going to be controlled. Most importantly, I wasn’t going to be confused by the way Stryker looked at me or the way he made me feel. I didn’t have to do what he said.
Even as I climbed into the truck and shifted into first, I couldn’t fight the thrill rippling over my body in goose bumps as I thought about what he would do when he found out I hadn’t done what he said.
Because, of course, he would find out. For some reason, he knew everything that happened – sometimes before it happened.
But not that night. That night, my card was up and I was going in as Alex Asher. I never fought under my own name. I couldn’t chance a spotty reputation with my real name. They’d never questioned me using my dad’s.
Rather than chance going home and running into Dad as I was running out and have to make something up about where I was going, I’d packed my gear earlier that morning before school.
All I had to do now was go to The Pike and sign in. In no time, I’d be pounding on some stupid wench who thought she knew how to use her fists.
That likelihood thrilled me almost as much as the thought of Stryker dealing with me for disregarding his orders.
***
Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.
I hung the gym jump rope on the hook for the fourth time since I’d started warming up and rolled my head on my shoulders, side to side to side. I bounced on the balls of my feet as I swung my arms in front of me and then back to my sides.
“Asher, you’re up.” Bruce would act as ring security while a couple other guys bounced the door during my fight. I wouldn’t let anyone else stand ringside. He was
the only guy who had never tried to manhandle me as we walked through the crowd to the ring.
Per The Pike’s policies, I had to wear a skimpy black sports bra with brightly colored shorts for my “uniform”. I didn’t care what I wore so long as I got to braid my hair back. The last thing I needed was for some of my hair to get in the way while I fought. I was ready and followed Bruce from the women’s locker room. It would be empty for the rest of the night except for me.
I wasn’t always treated that well at The Pike. My first two fights I was forced to change in the janitor’s closet because as far as the owner was concerned, I was just a piece of ass to show off in the ring. They never thought they could actually get good female fighters. I’d lied about my age then and Bruce was the only one who had known but he’d kept his mouth shut.
He was a true fan of boxing. Nothing got in the way of a good fight.
I rubbed at my shoulder with my gloved hand, the glove tighter than I normally laced it, but not so tight it was distracting or uncomfortable. I wore ankle socks in my Asics shoes and shadow jogged behind Bruce. I wore a black and dark purple hoodie with the hood pulled up to keep my heat in and my face protected. The large crowds at The Pike weren’t just watching, they were drinking which made for a questionable approach to the ring.
Luckily, no one spit as I passed through the waving and yelling throng. They would recognize my name. I’d only lost one fight at The Pike and that was based on a technicality – the girl’s ponytail got caught in the Velcro of my glove and they’d said it was a technical foul. The fans hadn’t been happy, but the chick agreed to a rematch some time in a few months.
Bright lights flooded the raised ring and I could almost imagine I fought in the professional arenas. But that wasn’t true.
My gloves weren’t the official boxing gloves. These were standard street fighting gloves. And all of the rules of street fighting were observed with us breaking every single one of them.
Remember, there’s never a fair fight. Even though it was supposed to be fair with a referee and everything, we were definitely not in it to make any friends.
Never signal that you want to fight. Why else were we there? Certainly not to dance around the ring trying to look pretty.
Keep your balance. Nine times out of ten one of the fighters was half drunk which made for a comical fight but was never completely fair in the whole scheme of things.
“I hear your opponent is from Canada. She’s supposed to be Russian, but that hasn’t been confirmed or denied yet.” Bruce spoke out of the side of his mouth as he folded his hands at waist level and watched the crowd around the ring. I furrowed my brow. If my fighter was Russian, she’d be desperate to prove herself, maybe even suicidal. That didn’t bode well for me.
She’d definitely be sober and she’d probably come out on the offensive. If she wasn’t Russian, then it’d be a passive aggressive fight. The Canadian women they sent down were definitely not of the same cloth as the men. They were sneaky fighters and I respected them while also keeping my distance.
I wasn’t sure what to think if the fighter was both Russian and Canadian.
Climbing between the ropes, I took my spot in my corner and slowly turned around, scanning the crowd. Jedediah Pike, the owner of the establishment would be sitting… ah, there he was. Right in front with his hand on the flavor of the week’s barely covered upper thigh.
He’d be banging her in the back of the kitchen before the last fight of the night was up. He nodded at me and flicked a glance at the other fighter coming in, then looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Jedediah pinched his fingers together and rubbed them.
My mouth went dry. Crap, she was Russian and the rubbing of the fingers meant she was in their mafia.
Just what I didn’t want or need. I gave a tight nod and regulated my breathing. I turned back to the center of the ring and worked on getting my head back in the game.
Jedediah only told me as a warning. Sometimes the fighters lived and sometimes they didn’t after losing a fight. I was never sure which happened to who. I did know my hardest fights were against Russians.
This was going to be brutal. After the week I’d had, I was in for one helluva fight.
A tall woman climbed into the ring, easily topping me by three inches. Her cheekbones stood out prominently under large wide brown eyes. A pretty girl like that should be in a magazine, not in the ring.
Determination darkened her eyes and I could see her hatred for me, the situation, and herself tightening the curve of her lips and clenching in her shoulder muscles as they took her robe off. She was dressed similarly to me but her shorts were red with gold trim.
I shimmied out of my hoody, tossing it over the side to Bruce or whoever would catch it. My dark purple shorts reflected the lights back on the outer curve of the shiny material.
The girl’s eyes were bloodshot as she side-bounced, using her heels to move her left to right, over and over. She reached out and grabbed the ropes with each hand, staring at me hungrily as she stretched.
The ref, I couldn’t recall the new guy’s name, moved into the center and the announcer from beside the bar on the outskirts of the room called out over the crowd. “Ladies and Pike men, introducing challenger, Sonya Ivanovs, taking on Alex Asher – a Pike favorite.” The crowd cheered, signaling it was time for me to start zoning everything out.
The referee blew his whistle, the sound shrill in the sudden expectant silence.
I could hear the blood rushing as my heart pumped, hard and strong. My breathing was level. I stepped forward, confident in my position in the ring.
One move I’d been practicing involved stepping on the opponent’s foot and slamming them with an uppercut as they were stuck under my weight. When I said practicing, I meant, shadow boxing in my room. I hadn’t actually tried the move, but I’d seen it done multiple times.
Watching for the right moment was going to be tough, since I hadn’t ever actually done it.
We moved in, kind of touching gloves to get the formality out of the way and then dancing back until the ref was out of the way. We moved in, dodging, dancing, testing each other with jabs and crosses.
Sonya didn’t pull out any ambidextrous fighting so we stayed with our lefts leading which was fine with me.
I had to watch for haymakers and hooks. Coming from my left, I was more vulnerable since I’d taken one to the eye a year ago. My vision wasn’t bad, just sometimes spotty in the darker rings.
We parried each other, jabbing, hooking, and throwing crosses more.
“Enough, Asher. Get it over with.” That voice… I couldn’t look away from my opponent but I’d be hanged, if that wasn’t Stryker. He’d be the only one who could break through my concentration.
Which meant he was there and so was Gunner and Brock. I was surprised they hadn’t come in and broken up the fight to yank me out of Timbercreek’s territory.
Sonya suddenly leapt forward, jab, jab, jabbing and then slam with a cross that broke past my raised fists and jacked my jaw.
I bit down on the mouthguard Jedediah required me to wear, stepping back while my brain resettled. I couldn’t wait much longer to use a combination designed to flatten her. The girl was after blood and she wasn’t going to stop.
Luckily for her, neither was I.
We moved in, both of us determined to get the fight done. I hated hanging out in the ring. I just wanted to get my frustrations out and be done with it. Trading crap shots wasn’t my idea of getting anything released.
She threw a fake punch but I dodged the hook she tossed at me while stepping forward onto her foot. I ground down, holding my heel there while I used the spare second to slam my fist under her jaw with a full twist uppercut. I heard and felt her lower teeth connect with her top, even with her mouthguard in place.
I leapt off her foot to avoid getting called out and stepped back, watching as she stumbled backward, catching herself on the ropes. She shook her head, her eyes closed. Blood dripped from her n
ose, bright red on the faded white canvas at her feet.
I hadn’t touched her nose. I’d come up from beneath. Had I really hit her that hard?
She tried to push off the ropes and slid forward, her arms still hooked on the black cables.
I lowered my guard, watching in worry as she fell to her knees and then stared up at the lights, her pupils asymmetrical in dilation.
I stepped forward as she slumped to the side, more blood staining the canvas under our feet.
The referee rushed to her side, counting and I moved forward. “Check her, something’s wrong.” But my words were drowned in the chaos of the crowd screaming, pounding and clapping.
The referee, shot a look at me, motioning with one finger for me to get out of the ring. I nodded, turning from the scene and crawling through the ropes.
Bruce was there, his expression grim as his eyes shot around the crowded area. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, holding my hoodie in his other hand. He pulled my head toward his chest, leaning down to speak as we strode confidently toward the locker rooms. “It doesn’t look good. Marcel said something about her situation with the mob. I’ll get you more details, but you better hope she’s not the daughter of the dom like they’re saying. Get in the locker room, shower, and wait for Jedediah.”
I crossed the threshold with one mighty shove from the security guard and pressed my fingers to my forehead. I wasn’t worried about the mob or Jedediah or even the Jameson cousins.
I had a sinking sensation in my gut I’d just killed that girl. That wasn’t something I could wash off my skin and leave behind to rinse down the drain.
Bile rose in the back of my throat. I rushed to the toilet, losing everything I’d eaten that day and then some.
One thing was sure, if I was arrested for killing her, I couldn’t do it in that sweaty outfit. I pulled my clothes off and tossed them in the general direction of my locker and rushed to the showers. Maybe the nausea had passed. Maybe I was wrong about her condition.
Her Challengers: A high school bully romance (Bad Boys of Jameson High Book 1) Page 18
