by HJ Bellus
Police sirens wail in the distance. Son of a bitch. That pit at the bottom of my stomach that has been weighing me down in worry and stress today just exposed itself. The man I once called my father stands in front of me. He looks the same as I remember, his eyes still dark and calculated. The only thing missing is the scent of whiskey or beer drowning his every feature. He’s sporting Titan’s Tribe gear.
I laugh. A full-out bout of laughter takes over at the scene in front of me. Here is the underlying trump card the Titan’s have. They discovered the one thing that could set me off and take me down without a single punch. Life is a funny bitch like that.
“Son, did you get my letter?” Abraham wipes the blood from his face with the back of his hand. His face is already swelling around his eyes.
I jerk my head back, relishing the sight of it. His evil will not touch me. I have a family and a woman I love. It’s all I need. This piece of trash no longer holds power over me. It was diminished the night the flames shredded his note to ashes.
“Is that your dad, Cruz?” My eyebrows scrunch up when I ask him.
He shakes his head.
I throw my hands up in the air. “Anyone recognize this man? He’s claiming to be a dad? Anyone claim him?”
You could hear a pin bounce off the cracked sidewalk. No one moves or speaks up. I catch the sight of Sunni in the back of the crowd. Her arms are wrapped tight around her Diablo’s tank top, her bottom lip locked under her teeth. I smile at her. It’s when she flashes one back that I know everything is going to be okay.
I let go of Boss and step in front of him. He and Cruz both warn me. I ignore them. My time for redemption has fallen at my feet, and it’s about time I scoop it up and make it my bitch.
“Seems you’re going senile, old man.” I shrug. “Does the state offer mental counseling for an ex-con like you?”
This gets a hushed awe from the crowd so intent on us. Abraham has the balls to step up to me. The corners of my lips turn up into an evil smile. He no longer towers over me and doesn’t even come close to intimidating me. I could snap his neck with a quick flip of my wrist. I remembered him as a giant with bulging muscles and a vicious backhand. He was never any of that. His frame is tall and lean. With his nearness, the scent of whiskey floats off him.
“Hitting the bottle already, Abraham?” I drag out his name, mollifying the finality of him in my life.
The sirens pierce the air before he can respond. Four police officers break into the crowd, pulling us apart. They take charge of the situation, barking and demanding answers. Boss steps up and tells the truth. He doesn’t hide his hatred or his actions.
Boss and Abraham are taken to the police cars and told to wait while they run background checks. Wasn’t shocked when Boss was cleared within seconds while the officer running Abraham’s took longer.
“Go inside, son, get your head on right.” Boss nods at me, only to be scolded by an officer for talking.
“He ain’t your fucking son! The boy bleeds my blood, not yours. He’s mine, and I’m back to make things right,” Abraham yells. “Jag, you owe me. I deserve all that money you’re raking in. You get your fighting from me.”
When he doesn’t shut the hell up, he’s cuffed and placed in the back of a patrol car. It doesn’t stop him from shouting out my name and threatening me. This should have me rattled. It doesn’t. The only thing shaking me up right now is the fact Boss is being held by cops.
“Sir, he only did it to protect me. He’s my coach and father. I have a fight in three hours and need him.” I step up to an officer.
He’s nice enough to listen to me but doesn’t acknowledge me. The three officers talk for a long time before parting. I know Boss is going to jail when all the men have remorseful looks on their face.
“Sir, you have the right to remain silent…”
The rest of the words fade off. My head spins, and the ground shakes. This can’t be happening.
“Jag, stop. You’ve got this. Go beat that motherfucker’s ass and show the Titans how real men do it,” Boss hollers as his head is pushed down into the backseat of a cop car.
My heart cracks at the sight of my hero in cuffs. Nothing has ever had the power to devastate me as this does. Layla quakes next to me. Her tears pool in her eyes as the car pulls away.
“Listen.” Sunni pushes into the crowd. “Layla, I’ll go with you to the police station. You can bail your dad out. Jag, you go back to getting ready for the fight. Cruz and Trick, you stay by him. We’ll have him back before the fight begins.”
Sunni pushes up on her tiptoes, grabs Layla’s arm, and tugs her to the parking lot. Layla moves only with Sunni’s assistance. The women vanish around a corner. The crowd dissipates. I stare at the blood on the sidewalk and crouch down until the scent hits me.
“I’ll sign my name in his blood,” I whisper a promise to Boss.
“Can they do that?” Trick asks.
Cruz slaps me on the shoulder. “I don’t know. Sunni seemed determined, and once Layla snaps out of it, God bless whoever has to put up with her Latina temper.”
My teammates and best friends walk by my side back to our locker room. It’s time to get my head back in the fight. A job damn near impossible at this point.
Chapter 22
Jag
“Twenty minutes, man.” Trick slaps my back then my face, riling me up. “Twenty minutes until fucking show time.”
We’ve remained in the locker room, silent, as the minutes have ticked by in a painful fashion. I kept my Beats on, drowning in my music while thumping my feet to the beat. It did nothing to calm me down. This whole shit show has backfired on the Titans. The revenge streaming through my veins scares the shit out of me.
The booming sound of the crowd cheering and D.M.C. blaring through the speakers seeps into the room.
“He’s not going to make it,” I say out loud to no one and anyone who will listen.
“We’ve got you, Jag.” Trick tosses me my black hoodie I always wear when I walk out. “Let’s go.”
I stand, jerking on the hoodie and placing the hood over my head. My wrapped hands punch the air, jabbing in sequence. I bounce from toe to toe, loosening my limbs. My feet dance around in a memorized pattern. I’ll fight as if Boss was in my corner screaming out commands. I’ve got this.
Cruz opens the door and nods his head. The three of us stand in the middle of the hallway waiting for my intro music to kick in. I roll my head back and forth, shaking out the few remaining nerves. The screeching opening to “SpongeBob SquarePants” blares.
The hallway lights up from behind us. All three of us turn to see what in the hell is going on. A tall figure with broad shoulders I’d recognize anywhere enters and jogs toward us with Layla and Sunni on his heels.
“What the hell are you waiting for?” Boss knocks my shoulder.
I throw my arms up and hug the hell out of him. I squeeze him tight. The emotion running through me is one that’s indescribable. It’s more than love and happiness.
“I love ya, Boss,” I whisper in his ear.
“Love you too, son. That asshole will never touch or harm you, not even with his presence.”
“Thank you.” I break the hug and grab Sunni by the arm, tugging her to me.
I crash my lips on hers, parting her lips with my tongue, and kiss the hell out of her. Once I let her go, I stride down the hallway. When the music cuts to “Straight Out of Compton,” my body ignites to life. The adrenaline now runs the show.
I beat my chest and take off in a jog, leaping into the octagon. The fuel in my veins pushes me into a screaming, bouncing mess of energy. I stare down the Titan’s corner, and it takes everything inside of me not to spit on them.
***
Sunni
My heart drums out a steady beat as I take my seat again. My fingers tremble, and sweat races down the back of my neck. Going to the police station is the last place I thought I’d ever end up. Hell, I went voluntarily. I knew my way around the l
aw and knew there was a chance we could get Boss bailed out.
I remained in the corners and background and let Layla take control. The good guys do win sometimes. Boss’ clean record and understanding police made the bail process simple. Boss shared with us on the race back to the gym that one of the officers was the same man who took Jag out of his home years ago.
My body shudders remembering what Abraham hissed at me as he was led past me.
“I know who you are. Thought you’d be the ticket to crushing my son, but it seems Jaco has all sorts of connections. Double the impact.” Abraham licks his lips as he’s hauled away.
My time is up. The fairytale made for a princess has come to a tragic end. Layla reminded me Jag has four months until Vegas. I’d do anything to buy that time for Jag’s sake. This is going to destroy him.
Boss’ voice carries from Jag’s corner as he wipes an ointment on his face and then finishes off by slapping his face. You’d never know these men were just knocked off kilter. They’ve come back in full force.
The official checks mouth guards and the wraps on the fighter’s hands. The bell rings, and Layla is up on her feet. I follow suit with my hands clutched to my chest. Jag dances around the ring, bobbing his head side to side. The other fighter throws a few punches. Jag dances around each one.
I don’t know what is worse, when Jag is getting punched or the anticipation of the first one. The seconds drag by, painfully clenching my heart. The Titan’s fighter gets the first punch in. His fist lands square on the bridge of Jag’s nose. He wavers back, shaking his head out, then holds his arms up, taunting the fighter.
His opponent takes advantage of his stance, landing several more punches, leaving trails of blood running down Jag’s face. Layla screams profanities from her position. It’s the only time I hear her cuss.
The bell rings, signaling the end of the round. Jag didn’t get one punch or move in. My heart falls. Today had to have rattled him up. Cruz, Boss, and Trick swarm him, covering up most of his sitting frame. I catch sight of him spitting blood into a bucket, and bloody paper towels drop to the corner. Trick squirts water into Jag’s mouth before he bounces up to his feet.
“Quit playing games,” Boss roars before Jag goes back to the center of the ring.
The bell rings, and the second round starts out much the same, Jag getting his ass kicked. I begin screaming along with Layla, encouraging Jag to get it together. I see it when it happens. Jag snaps. His body rages into a violent storm of flying fists and sweeping leg kicks.
He has the other fighter pinned up against the cage. Jag doesn’t try to take him down or put him in a hold. He uses his fists, brutally beating the shit out of the guy until his figure goes limp. Jag steps back and winds up one arm, laying down the final upper cut that sends his opponent to the mat.
The official has to pull Jag off the man because he doesn’t stop. Boss and the other men jump in the ring, forcing Jag back. They hold him in the corner until all the Titans clear the octagon.
Once they let go of him, Jag flies to the side of the cage the Titans just exited. He climbs the chain link in one swift movement and straddles the top, all the while beating his chest.
“Landon,” he roars, “who’s the pussy now?”
Somehow Jag catches Landon’s attention over the roar of the crowd. He throws Jag a look over his shoulder.
“Want a taste, you little bitch?” Jag throws back his head with manic laughter streaming from his beautiful lips. He’s gone mad. High on his win. It was more than just winning the match. He faced his demons today and came out the other side untarnished.
I don’t absorb the win until Jag jumps from the top of the ring, landing on the outside. His tall, lean frame jogs my way, rounding the ring. Sweat, blood, and lust pour off the man’s skin. He doesn’t say a word as he clutches the back of my neck, pulling me to him. He seals his lips to me, gaining cheers from the crowd. My face burns in embarrassment.
Jag deepens the kiss, angling his head and swirling his tongue in my mouth. He flexes his hips into mine. His spandex fighting shorts highlight his want for me. His tongue glides out of my mouth. Jag catches my bottom lip between his teeth, sinking down in a perfect pleasure of pain. He drags his teeth over my flesh until he pops free.
“Door. Ten minutes.” He kisses my forehead. His sweat drips down on me. “Craving some honey right now, baby girl.”
Jag showboats for the crowd as he jogs away with his hands raised in the air and his dick saluting the audience. I cover my face, trying to soothe away the flame burning my cheeks. The man has no shame at all. I watch his retreating form until he disappears into the hallway.
“Thank you,” Layla whispers as she wraps me in a hug. “I would’ve been lost without you today.”
“You’re welcome.” The two words slip easily from my tongue. I don’t bat away gratitude like I typically would. I accept it like I have everything else this family has offered me.
It takes Jag longer than ten minutes to make it to the front door. I chalk it up to him and the boys talking about what happened tonight. I check my phone for a text from Jag even though the small device hasn’t dinged yet.
“Excuse me.”
I look up to see Landon glowering down at me. His crisp blue eyes pierce through my armor. The sharp lining of his jaw is so damn familiar, and yet I can’t place it. His stare screams he knows me. The man gives me the creeps. Dread chills my bones as he doesn’t break eye contact.
“Do I know you?” I stutter out, regretting my question as soon as it comes out.
“I don’t know, do you?” He leans in, encroaching on my personal space.
“Never mind.” I duck my head and turn my back to him.
“You’ll soon connect the dots, princess.” He grabs my shoulder.
I step away from him, not looking back. His sinister laughter pierces my eardrums. I wait in a corner, keeping my stare on the hallway. As each moment ticks by, I grow more uncomfortable. I feel glaring stares drilling holes in my back, but I don’t turn around. I just need Jag to pop his gorgeous smile out of that hallway, and everything will be right in the world…for now.
Every second that ticks by is felt on my skin. It begins to creep and crawl as the time passes by. I hear his contagious laugh before I see him. It’s magnetic, and I dart to the opening of the hallway away from the gate to my escape. All because of him.
Jag has his head turned, laughing about something with Boss. He doesn’t see me coming as I sprint to him. He turns his head just in time to drop his bag. I leap into his open arms. The protection of his chest catches me and holds me safely to him. His solid torso absorbs all my trembles and shivers.
“Baby girl, you okay?” He runs a hand up and down my back.
“I am now.” My lips run up and down his neck.
“Someone fuck with you?”
I pause before answering. His body stiffens, knowing I’m about to lie to him. It hurts more than any other pain in my life. I’d serve jail time again not to feel this man tense under me. “No, I missed you.”
He kisses the shell of my ear. “I got you, baby. I got you.”
One hand continues to run up and down my back as he strides out of the gym. He walks past all the prying stares, not giving two fucks. Boss picks up his bag and follows us. Ice-cold chills continue to attack me even though I’m in the arms of my place of safety. Jag doesn’t stop or put me down until we are in the parking lot near Boss’ truck.
I slide out of his arms and let him have time with his coach. I stare at the city line and setting sun, praying as I’ve never done before. Warm, loving arms wrap around me, and they’re not Jag’s.
“You’re part of the family, Sunni. Fall on us.” Boss’ deep baritone voice vibrates against my flesh.
I freeze in his arms. It doesn’t stop him from hugging the hell out of me. He doesn’t let go of me even though I don’t hug him back. His large, wise palms run up and down my back. It’s not until I melt into him that he relaxes.
He doesn’t say another word. My arms finally wrap around his wide torso, embracing him back.
Tears attack, threatening to spill over. I battle back, not allowing the weak emotion to take over at this moment. I don’t speak a word when he lets me go. His gentle, kind, and caring eyes send me a wink before he disappears into his truck. It’s everything. Boss is the godfather of the operation and just accepted me with open arms. I’ve never in my life felt so damn loved.
Before I know it, Jag clasps my hand, and we are running down the sidewalk toward home. He tugs me into a hole in an alleyway. His gym bag tumbles to the ground as I’m hoisted up into his chest. My legs wrap around his middle as my back collides with an unforgiving brick wall.
The sharp pain from the gritty brick is taken away as Jag’s lips attach to my neck. His finger flicks open the button of my jeans as I press into him and tug at the back of his neck.
“I fucking need you, Sunni.”
“Take me.”
“My cock has been throbbing for you, and I can’t wait any longer.”
“Don’t.” I tug on his long hair. “Take me.”
They’re the only words Jag needs. He rips down my shorts, parts my thong, and slides in. His first thrust is gentle, as is his growl. His pace picks up with each movement as his fingertips dig into my side and the raw abrasion of the bricks digs into my flesh. The pain is nothing compared to the pleasure of Jag adoring me as he pushes inside of me. I focus on his stare and loving nature. It grounds me as his sweat rains down on my flesh. His love pours down on me in the form of pain, terror, and safety. It’s all consuming and conflicting. All I know is with each thrust, this is the man God put me on Earth for. Jag is my savior and everything between.
I clutch the back of his neck and express my love with words from my vocabulary. His cock throbs inside of me, and my chants continue. Jag doesn’t stop his relentless pounding and grunts. Every single one of his punches in the octagon is mirrored in his thrusts. It was the greatest victory, and I’m coming out the victor. I take each one of his merciless thrusts.
