Trick (Diablo's Throne MMA Book 3)

by HJ Bellus

“Boss.” I tap him on his shoulder.

  He whirls around, a scowl firmly planted on his face. It softens the moment he sees me. “Mack-A-Bee, what’s up?”

  That damn nickname. I dig into my back pocket, pulling out Trick’s phone. “I don’t know how to say this.”

  “Say it.” He leans back on the counter. “I’m all ears.”

  I blurt it out in long-winded sentences. “Trick’s mom called the night of my birthday. He was upset afterward. He left his phone at Jag’s, and I read the unopened texts from his mom. I know I shouldn’t have. He’s been struggling, and it’s killing me. He does his best to hide it. His dad is dying.”

  My hands tremble, and tears war in my eyes. Guilt strikes me hard. I shouldn’t have opened that text. Boss doesn’t respond. He steps up and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug.

  “You love him, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day, Mack. We will talk to him after the fight. You’ve done the right thing.” He rubs soothing circles on my back.

  When he lets me go, I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand. “Do you think he’ll be okay tonight? I mean for the fight.”

  Boss nods. “I’ve got him.”

  I nod. Boss gives me one more pat before heading back to the locker room. I felt drained and energized at the same time. It took a lot getting that out and asking for help. I wander back to my seat after buying some popcorn and chilled Dr. Pepper. I don’t recognize any of the fighters in the first few matches. Layla does as she’s up on her feet and cussing like a sailor during every one.

  I don’t pay much attention to any of the fights until The Country Boy Brawler is announced.

  The baritone voice of the announcer booms across the gym. “Your hometown boy, representing Diablo’s Throne, with a mixed martial arts record of twelve knockouts and five submissions, this badass country boy fears nothing. Triiiiick, the Country Boy Brawler!”

  “A Country Boy Can Survive” beats steady as the crowd erupts in a deafening roar. Nearly everyone is on their feet, pumping their hands in the air for Trick. I’m not much of a country music fan, but I love this song. It’s Trick to the core.

  Trick stares straight ahead. His eyes are stone cold and laser-focused. His ball cap sits backward on his head; the black silk robe lies open, showcasing his abs. The closer he gets to the ring, the faster he walks. Stomping out each stride with power and confidence, Trick enters the ring.

  He shreds the robe and tosses it to the corner. He stares down his opponent for a long time before retreating to his corner. Boss puts stuff on his face while barking at him. The referee checks Trick’s mouthpiece and fists.

  “Clear your fucking head.” Boss taps Trick’s temples.

  He nods, hopping from foot to foot. I’m up on my feet with my hands balled into fists.

  “C’mon, baby,” I whisper to myself.

  The bell rings. The fighters dance around each other. The other man throws a punch, landing it square on Trick’s jaw. He doesn’t even try to dodge it. He absorbs it and the next four that come his way.

  I glance to his corner to see Riot and Boss clinging to the cage. The veins in Boss’ temple throb in frustration. Trick’s shoulders slump when the bell rings. Boss ridicules him once his ass hits the stool in his corner. Trick nods as if he’s listening.

  Before the time’s up, Boss leans down and whispers something in his ear. I didn’t think it was possible for Trick to slump any more than he already was. I was wrong. Boss slaps his back. His voice is so raised I can hear each word.

  “I mean it, Trick. Goddammit, I mean it. I’ll always be at every fight of yours, by your side.”

  It seems the pep talk did no good. Trick continues to take punch after punch. Blood covers his face and spills onto the mat. I glance at the clock to see there are thirty seconds left in the second round. The other man punishes Trick with a brutal knee to his ribcage. It snaps something in him. I see the moment it happens. Trick’s eyes finally flare to life.

  The muscles in his biceps flex in rage. He advances on his opponent even though fists are flying his way. It happens so damn fast; Trick pulls back his arm and lays a brutal punch to the man’s face. He stumbles back to the mat. Trick leaps on top of him, raining down blow after blow. The man’s head sways side to side on the mat.

  The referee struggles to pull Trick off. Boss scrambles to get to Trick. The ref resorts to a shove on Trick’s shoulder. This gets his attention. Boss is there to rip Trick back to his corner. There’s no celebrating in his corner or by the man himself. It doesn’t stop the crowd from going wild.

  Boss signals to Layla. She rushes to her dad and then back to me.

  “Dad wants you in the locker room in ten minutes.” She nods then is off controlling the crowd. She’s a little thing but has balls of steel.

  I swallow down hard and feel each minute tick by in agony. My steps are heavy as I walk back to the locker room. I hear shouting before I push open the door. My heart drops to the pit of my stomach.

  When I push open the door, Trick flicks his gaze to me. He’s pissed off. Nothing but hatred and anger stream from him.

  “Fucking really, Mack?” He slams his chest. “My business is just that. Not fucking yours.”

  Chapter 21

  Trick

  A mistake. That’s what that whole match was. I let my mind win out over dedication and training. I took those punches as a form of punishment. My mom’s pleading voice echoed around in my head. She needs me, and I turned my back on her.

  I punch the locker room door open. It bounces off the wall. The crashing sound reverberates off the walls.

  “Fuck,” I roar, punching the wall. Not even my wraps can protect my knuckles. I feel them crush and crack.

  The door opens behind me. Boss’ pissed off face glares at me. Not good. I’m in deep shit with him and the association. A hefty-ass fine will be slapped down on me. I wait for the beating down by him. It never comes. He pulls my cell phone from his pocket and holds it out to me. The screen is lit up with texts from my mom. I read each one. The ground beneath me quakes. He may hate me, but I never stopped loving him, and now the guy who used to be my hero is dying.

  “Explain,” Boss growls.

  I peer up at him. “You know the story.”

  “Yeah, I do, but still can’t put the pieces together. Like to think you were a stronger man than the shit I saw out there. You lost control, Trick.”

  I drop my head. “I did.”

  There’s no way to argue with him. I fucked up. Ran away from my reality and now I’m in a world of hurt. I couldn’t care less about the fine. Hell, fighters get them slapped down all the time. The man standing in front of me is who I fear. I let him down, and that hurts the most.

  “What’s it going to take to get you straightened out, Trick?” He takes a step toward me.

  I keep my stare at my feet. Droplets of blood pool on the floor. “I don’t know, and that scares the shit out of me.”

  “It should. Time to man up, son. You fix the problem, or you let it go.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Look at me,” he roars. Boss picks up a water bottle and throttles it into the wall. “You should’ve seen your girl. She was all sorts of torn up and worried about you.”

  I tilt my head in question.

  “You left your phone at Jag’s house. She brought it to me after reading the texts. You are messing her up and dragging her down right along with you. Is that what you want?”

  This bit of information has the power to set me off again. My heart hammers against my sternum. Not once have I aired her dirty laundry. Not fucking once. I kept it close to me and watched her walk her way through it all.

  “Fucking great,” I grit out.

  The door to the locker room opens again. The main subject of our conversation stands staring wide-eyed at me. Not the right moment. Once again, my heart and head war against each other. The evil wins out.

  “Fucking really, Mack?” I slam my
chest. “My business is just that. Not fucking yours.”

  She takes a slight step back. I open my mouth to lay out more of the line, pointing out I never once pushed her too far like she’s done me. Before I can get a word out, a hand wraps around my throat, and my back is slammed up against the wall. Boss sneers in my face.

  “I suggest you shut your fucking mouth before you ruin everything.” He tightens his grip. “You’re reacting. Doing the same exact thing I’ve trained you not to do for years.”

  I glance toward Mack out of the corner of my eye. Finally, Boss’ words soak in. I’m out of control. I’ve hurt her, and that’s the last thing I’ve ever wanted to do. I close my eyes and inhale through the pressure being applied to my throat.

  “Gonna back up now, and I expect you better fucking gain control, son.” Boss’ hand falls away, and he does step back.

  “I’m sorry, Mack.” I step toward her, and she backs up. Everything she’s fought through the last few months vanishes before my eyes. “There’s no excuse for what I just said. I was a dick and would take it back if I could.”

  Layla pops her head in the door. She picks up on the intense mood immediately. Cruz is right behind her. Boss flicks his head to his daughter. Everything that needs to be said to get her up to speed is all expressed in one single gesture.

  “Mack, honey, come with me.” Layla pulls on her arm. “We’ll let these guys chat.”

  She doesn’t hesitate, turning, embracing Layla’s touch. I don’t miss the fact she ducks her head down and never looks back. Boss walks over to the door and slams it shut. Cruz relaxes back on the wall, folding his arms over his chest.

  “Nobody is leaving until you work this out, Trick. The three of us have all fucking night.”

  Cruz tilts his head in question. Boss has no qualms about filling him in. He doesn’t sugarcoat shit. It’s shredding the hell out of me and also healing me at the same time. Hearing the words spoken out loud forces me to face it. Something I’ve never done. The moment I stepped out of my childhood home and the door slammed, so did that chapter of my life. Of course, I had my moments where I wished liked hell my parents would be out in the crowd supporting me.

  “Trick took it upon himself to also rip into Mack when all she was doing was supporting him. So at this point, he’s hell-bent on destroying everything in his life from his career to his family and Mack.”

  His last sentence rips a growl from me. “I’m not pushing Mack away. I reacted. That’s on me.”

  “So what are you going to do to fix it? Looks to me like you’re not doing a damn thing. Your mom.” He waves my phone in the air. “The woman who gave birth to you is begging you to go home. Yeah, your dad may be a dick when you get there. That’s not the point. Your mom needs you.”

  “Yeah.” I drop my head again.

  “I fucking know you better than anyone else, Trick. You’re a helper and fixer. You don’t turn your back on people in your world. I can’t force you to go back home for a bit. You have to choose to. I do know one thing you will regret, and that’s not making peace, no matter how ugly your past is.”

  “Take me to the cage,” I respond. “I need a release.”

  “Man, you’re already beaten the hell up. Don’t do this,” Cruz adds.

  “I have to. I’m cracked, and I need that gap to be torn wide. Everything needs to go silent just for a little.”

  Boss leads the way back out to the ring. Everyone has long since disappeared except for Riot and a few other fighters. They each take their turn with me in the ring. I don’t stop until I fight every single one of the fuckers. They don’t go easy on me. I give it all through my exhausted, foggy haze. Boss’ face is the last person I see. His fist flies to my face, and then it’s lights out.

  Chapter 22

  Mack

  Layla made me tea. Belle has me set up on the floor of the living room, pushing doll after doll in my face. The whirlwind cutie doesn’t give me any time to dwell on the memory of Trick’s hateful stare. Layla’s whispered a few times that everything will be okay. My gut tells a different story.

  Belle rubs her eyes; her head sways from side to side, then she hops up on her feet doing a little dance. It’s adorable. She’s doing her best to keep herself awake.

  Layla speaks to her in Spanish. Belle frantically shakes her head side to side.

  “Papí. No sleep.” She waves a little finger at her mom.

  “Stubborn,” Layla mutters underneath her breath.

  Their front door glides open. Cruz’s massive form fills it. Belle squeals and races to her dad. He swoops her up, letting her pepper kisses all over his face. After Belle’s babbles die off, Cruz makes eye contact with me.

  “I’ll walk you to Trick’s.” He jerks his chin.

  “No. I’ll ride my bike home.” I stand up, stretching out my back.

  “He asked for you.” Cruz adjusts Belle in his arms. “He was pretty damn persistent about it.”

  “Is he…” I pause for a moment before I can finish. “…still pissed at me?”

  Cruz shakes his head. “Feels like sh—crap for what he said. He worked some things out. He’s going to be okay.”

  I nod and take a deep breath. “I guess lead the way then.”

  Belle slaps her chest. “I go, Papí, I go.”

  In unison, Layla tells their daughter no while Cruz tells her yes. After an intense stare-off between the parents, Cruz walks out the door. I follow him down the steps. I’m thankful once again for the chatterbox toddler. She goes on and on about the stars and moon the entire walk.

  “Thank you.” I grab the doorknob to Trick’s front door.

  “Mack.” Cruz reaches out, touching my shoulder. “You’ll learn that being with a fighter isn’t easy. We bottle shit up and then eventually blow. We care, fight hard, and love even bigger. Make sure it’s a lifestyle you can handle and please give Trick a chance.”

  I don’t flinch or hesitate before I answer. “I’d do anything for him. I owe Trick everything. He owns my heart, and I won’t ever be getting it back until he says so.”

  Cruz nods. Belle blows me air kisses, and then they disappear into the darkness of the night. Belle’s squeals of laughter echo down the street. This group of people has shown me the true meaning of family and without blinking an eye welcomed me into the circle.

  The door creaks open. Trick’s apartment is deathly silent. The vibe floating around unnerves me. I continue in. I hear his voice streaming from his room. I pad to the entrance, lean on the door jam, and study Trick’s hunched form. His elbows rest on the tops of his thighs, one hand holding a phone to his ear while the other is clutched in his hair.

  “I’ll come home for a week.” His voice cracks on each word.

  Silence.

  “Yeah, Mom, love you too.” He tosses the phone on his bed.

  I don’t move. I can’t. If I'm honest, I want to run. It would be the most natural thing to do. I’m here to fight. If Trick can punish his body day in and day out, I can fight for us.

  He finally gazes up at me. His jaw goes slack, and after long moments, he runs his hand over his face, wincing in pain.

  “Come sit.” He pats the bed. “Please.”

  I walk over to him, but I don’t sit as he asked me to. Instead, I drop to my knees and scoot forward between his spread legs. I reach up with one hand and cup his face while keeping my other hand grounded on top of his leg.

  “I’m here, Trick. I’m not leaving or going to freak out on you. Lord knows I ran and was pretty damn brutal to you in the beginning.”

  “I’m going home.” He winces.

  “Okay.” I encourage him to continue.

  “Guess Dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a few years back. The stubborn asshole refused treatment. Mom did her best to stuff holistic treatments down his throat. It extended his life, but the time is here.”

  “I’m sorry, baby.” I brush his jawline where miraculously there’s no bruises or cuts. I can’t focus on his face r
ight now. It’s twenty times worse than last time.

  “She’s hurting so damn bad. It crushed her when I left. She’s done her best to keep what she could together. She needs me, and I feel like shit for ignoring her for so long. I gave her so little.”

  “Stop.” I stand up to my feet, taking a seat in his lap. I loop my arm around his neck and rest my cheek on his shoulder. “Don’t you dare beat yourself up over this. Trick, you’ve taught me one thing, and that’s our past doesn’t define us. We always have the power to change and live life. That’s what you’re going to do.”

  “Will you go with me?” His fingers dig into my hip.

  “Yes. I don’t even have to think about it.” Love trumps all, even my fear of being caged in a running automobile.

  “We have Fall break next week at school. It’s a day and a half drive to Idaho. We can leave late afternoon tomorrow so we can wrap things up.”

  “Okay. I’ll need to check in with Gene and let the center know I’ll be gone for a week. We can work on our project on the drive.”

  “I know you said I didn’t have to apologize, baby, but you have no idea how sorry I am for barking at you like that.”

  “I may have overstepped by looking at your phone. I promise you it all came from good intentions.”

  “I know.” Trick falls back on the bed, pulling me on top of him.

  I wiggle around until we’re lined up and I’m staring down at his battered face. Even through the swelling and bruising, he’s still sexy as sin. He’s the symbol of safety, love, and life.

  “You’re making one of my wishes and your promise come true.” I rub my nose on his.

  “What’s that?” His tired hands run up and down the length of my back.

  “I get to ride Rooster. You told me I would one day.” A smile covers my face.

  This gets a light chuckle out of him. He even manages to offer me a crooked grin. “Yes, baby, you’ll get to ride Rooster. We can go to the hot springs at night, fool around in the barn, and eat at the only restaurant in town.”