Fight Like A Girl (Part One)

by Dawn Pendleton

  The fortunate part was that people didn’t remember the curly haired girl named Maxi who followed John around. I was a tiny girl back then, thin with almost no muscle. But I had bulked up, gotten taller, and permanently straightened all that curly blonde hair. When I emerged back on the scene, no one even recognized me, let alone had any inkling I was John’s daughter. And with a different last name, I had nothing to worry about.

  Freddie took it all with a grain of salt. He’d owned the gym when I was younger and I spent a lot of time there, hanging out while my dad worked out. When I returned, I didn’t try to hide who I was from Freddie. I simply told him I was starting over and he said he wanted to help. He didn’t tell anyone about me, and for that reason alone, I trusted him.

  He’d confided in me over the years that he didn’t think my father was a murderer, but I honestly didn’t care. A man who ran away from the truth, whether he was guilty or not, was a coward in my book. And I despised cowards.

  In his absence, I’d become someone I could look in the mirror at and be proud of, someone I actually liked. I had integrity and honor, two attributes I couldn’t say I inherited from him. Wherever he was, I hoped he knew how much better off I was without him.

  Four

  I tried not to be nervous when the door at the gym opened. Not wanting to psych myself out, I focused my attention on the punching bag in front of me and completely ignored the stranger among us. After a few minutes, I peeked around the gym and saw Freddie talking to someone in his office. My hands shook, but I wouldn’t let another asshole like Jeff into my life; I was stronger than ever, both physically and mentally, and I would not be pushed around.

  I kept up at the bag, giving it all I had. After a few minutes, I was acutely aware of someone watching me. I didn’t turn, though.

  “So where do you want to start?”

  I whirled around, recognizing the voice instantly. My one night stand stood there, bulky arms folded across his chest and a sly grin on his face. I set my hands on my hips. “Is this some kind of joke?” Because, honestly, my reality couldn’t be that bad.

  But it was. “Actually, your friend Freddie asked me to come train you. It’s not a joke.” He was serious, but his eyes shone with amusement.

  Fuck.

  “Such language,” he chastised me and I realized I’d said the word aloud.

  I shook my head. “No, really. What are you doing here?”

  His grin widened. “I’m your new trainer.”

  “But why?”

  He held back laughter. “Freddie called me. He didn’t mention that you weren’t very smart… I might have to up my fees if I have to keep repeating myself.”

  “Fuck you,” I mumbled and walked past him, straight toward Freddie’s office. “What the hell is this?” I all but shouted as soon as I crossed the threshold.

  He looked up at me, surprised. “What do you mean? King will be a great trainer. And he said you two already knew each other, so win-win.”

  I closed my eyes to ward off the rage that seemed to want to fill me. I took several breaths and then looked at Freddie again, certain I wouldn’t rip his fucking head off. “There’s some kind of mistake. He and I do not know each other, and there’s no way in hell I’m training with him.” There, I said it. I didn’t even raise my voice. I lifted my chin, proud of my feat.

  “We do know each other,” a voice said from behind me.

  I turned to glare at him. “This is a private conversation.” I moved to close the door in his face.

  “Actually,” he said, a firm hand on the door, “since I’m you’re trainer, I think I should be privy to all conversations between you and the gym owner.”

  I saw red. “You aren’t my trainer,” I grit out.

  “Alright, fine. Why don’t you ask Freddie who else is available?”

  Finally. “I was just about to do that.” I turned back to Freddie. “Who else?”

  Freddie looked pointedly at the chipping paint on his desk, his hands fiddling with a pen.

  “You aren’t serious. It’s Kingston or no one?” My shoulders slumped at his nod.

  I was stuck. Either I trained with a guy who rocked my world the night before, or I trained alone. What a fucking nightmare.

  I stomped my foot, painfully aware of my childish behavior and stormed out of the office, making sure to slam my shoulder into him. He let out an irritated laugh, but stepped back, out of my way. He needed to know just how much fun I was going to be to train.

  I walked to the ring, where two of the gyms best guys were practicing. I stood there, arms crossed, watching them as they fought. Their moves were calculated, each of them intense. I’d practiced with both of them in that ring, and though I knew they went easy on me, they always gave me great pointers on how to better myself.

  I hated criticism, especially from the men in my life, but I knew their words weren’t critical. They wanted to help make me better. We’d all become a bit of a family and we all wanted one another to succeed. Considering they were the only family I had, I took their words seriously and bettered myself. I worked ten times harder than any fighter I knew. It wasn’t good enough for me to be an average fighter; I had to be the best. Of course, the official fights would prove my skill, but in the meantime, I needed more training.

  “I’ll take winner,” I shouted, more than ready to prove myself. Even I knew my goal was only to prove myself to Kingston.

  “Actually, you won’t be fighting anyone until after your first fight,” Kingston announced to everyone, his voice echoing in the big space.

  “Will you stop saying that?”

  His brows drew together. “Saying what?”

  “Actually. You’ve said it too many times in the short time I’ve known you.”

  He laughed. “Okay, fine, I’ll cut back. But you still aren’t fighting.”

  “Whatever.”

  He walked over to me, his face fierce. “I mean it, Max. You won’t risk injuring yourself before a big fight. And this one will be your first, which means you need to be in tip top shape, not bruised from one of these guys knocking you down.”

  I wanted to argue. Sure, my next fight was my first regulation fight, but I’d been in enough street fights to know I could hold my own. But I decided to let that be a secret, a little something for Kingston to find out later.

  “Fine.” I gave him a paltry smile and walked away, proud that I didn’t even yell at him. I was more than a little smug because I left him standing there, all alone.

  “Max,” he called, drawing my attention back toward the ring. I stopped and looked at him. “Get your running shoes on. We start training today.”

  I raised a brow but didn’t say a word. I didn’t run often. I knew it was good to be light on my feet, but running was so boring. There was no greater workout than slamming my fist into the bag several hundred times. Running just wasn’t my thing. But I figured a quick run to warm up could be beneficial. I knew I had to maintain at least a neutral attitude toward Kingston, if only until after I won my first fight.

  Part of the reason no one wanted to train me, in particular was the fact that I hadn’t proven myself just yet. Once I won my upcoming fight, I figured I’d have offers pouring in, all but begging me to let them train me. And once I had my choice of trainer, Kingston could pack sand. I was excited to be able to fire him.

  In the locker room, I slipped on my shoes and sat down to tighten the laces. I heard him approach before I saw him, though I didn’t even bother to lift my head when he stopped in front of me. I kept my attention on my shoes as long as I could, but eventually, I had to look up.

  His heavily muscled arms were crossed over his chest, pulling his black t-shirt tight. I had no idea how I hadn’t guessed he was a fighter, or a trainer, because his body was severely built for fighting.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, his gray eyes piercing mine. He was so damn intense, I had to look away.

  “Yeah, let’s do it,” I said, standing up. Kingston didn�
��t move away, leaving us far too close for comfort. His eyes flicked to my lips. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned.

  There was humor in his eyes when he met my gaze again. “Don’t what? I was just thinking your lips look bruised.”

  Belatedly, I realized they probably were. His kisses last night were rough, not that I minded, but just being reminded of how good last night was made my stomach clench with desire. The bastard did it on purpose.

  “Yeah, I think I made out with a vacuum,” I commented.

  He sucked in a breath, fully understanding my insult. “Let’s go.” He turned and walked out of the locker room.

  I followed him, chuckling softly. At least I could get under his skin as much as he got under mine.

  On the street, he suggested I stretch, and I took his advice. He also took his own advice, and the two of us were silent as we warmed up. I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off his magnificent body. His bulky calves led up to tree-trunk-worthy thighs and then up to his fairly narrow hips. He was the epitome of a fighter, but his arms were what drew most of my attention.

  The sheer size of his arms were enough to keep me interested, but the actual muscle definition was pleasing, as well. The fact that he’d used those arms while we fucked the previous night sort of turned me on, too. As if sensing my thoughts, Kingston stopped stretching to look at me, his eyes roaming over my body for a full minute before he looked me in the eye.

  “Ready?” he asked, his voice much deeper than it had been a few minutes ago, reminding of just how deep it got last night while I was riding his cock. He must have been thinking about it, too.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He turned away and started off at a slow jog. I forced myself to keep in step with him, even though all I wanted to do was sprint as far away as I possibly could. I needed to get the hell away from him, if only to control my obvious desire for him. Distance wouldn’t be a bad thing, but I knew better. Taking off would only piss him off, and I’d end up spending even more time with him to make up for running away.

  For the time being, I was absolutely stuck. I followed a few steps behind him, not wanting to show him up. I figured I could run circles around him. He didn’t increase his speed, either. Our jog was just that: slow, steady, and extremely boring. I found myself trying to think of anything other than how tight his ass was as we went. Of course, I couldn’t, since I was forced to stare at it through the run.

  Eventually, I got tired of his slow pace. I needed to run. Like actually run. I moved my feet faster, going around him. He laughed as I passed him, but he let me lead, the two of us running through the city. It almost became a game for us; I led for a while and then he would speed up to lead us for a few blocks.

  I was getting tired, my body finally running out of adrenaline, so I slowed down a bit. Kingston didn’t realize I slowed and he kept up the pace, putting more distance between us. I was about to call out for him to slow down when someone hit me from behind.

  I went down hard into the pavement, nearly face planting into the ground. My hands barely caught me, but my palms slid across the sidewalk, all but tearing them up. I rolled over to look at my attacker, certain whoever it was would have run away. Standing over me was a man dressed all in black, a hoodie covering his hair and a black bandana tied around his face. The only part of him I could see were his eyes. They were ridiculously blue, brighter than any blue eyes I’d ever seen before, and it occurred to me he was wearing colored contacts.

  “You’re dead, just like your dad.” The voice was deep, but not in an attractive way like Kingston’s. The guy was purposely masking his voice by speaking like a life-long smoker, the sound raspy. “Stay out of the ring.”

  From my spot on the sidewalk, laying on my back, I couldn’t exactly beat the guy to a pulp, which is what I wanted to do, but I figured Kingston would approach at any second, and he could act out what I wanted. More seconds passed without any sign of my trainer, and finally, the guy in black laugher.

  “No one’s coming to save you. Not your daddy, not Kingston – you’ve got no one, Max. Do yourself a favor and stay away from the ring.”

  And then he was gone, ducking into an alley. I stared after him, my heart hammering inside my chest. What the fuck is going on?

  Five

  Kingston came back for me eventually, but he was less than concerned when he found me on my back in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “Did you trip?” he asked, his voice more than amused. He hadn’t seen what happened.

  I wanted to tell him about the guy, about what he said, but the truth was, I had no idea if I could trust him, so I kept it to myself. “Yeah, I guess I hit a lip in the sidewalk,” I lied. He helped me up and turned my hands over to examine them.

  “You really torn them up,” he said, our bodies close. I kept my gaze on my hands, but something in his voice caused me to look up. He was too close.

  His lips were on mine before I could protest. Not that I wanted to. I wound my injured hands around his neck, careful not to get blood on his shirt. He lifted me up with his hands on my ass so his hard dick was cradled between my thighs. His tongue thrust into my mouth, and I let him. I was still shook up from my encounter, and I needed his touch.

  After several minutes making out, we finally pulled away from each other. “Fuck.”

  I smiled against his chest. “My thoughts exactly.”

  “What the hell is wrong with us? We’re working together, now. We shouldn’t be engaging like this.” He sounded less than remorseful.

  “Agreed.” I didn’t pull away from him.

  He let out a heavy sigh and then took a step back, his hands on my shoulders. “We should head back to the gym and get your hands checked out.”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  We walked back to the gym, Kingston deciding we shouldn’t run with me injured. It was a slow trip, and I couldn’t help but be curious about him.

  “Were you a fighter?” I asked as we walked.

  He glanced at me, as if he was trying to decide if I was worth an honest answer. He relented a few seconds later. “Yeah, I fought for six years.”

  “Were you any good?”

  He laughed. “You could say that. I only ever lost one fight in my career.”

  I was impressed. “Why’d you quit?”

  “You ask too many questions, Max.”

  “Oh, come on. If we’re going to be working together, it’s probably a good idea for me to know a little bit about your history.”

  He thought about it for a minute. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I quit because I was in an accident and all the bones in my left leg were crushed.”

  “What? Was it a car accident? How long ago did it happen? Should you even be running?” I asked, flooding him with questions.

  “Easy, killer,” he said with a laugh. “It wasn’t a car accident. I was too good, too cocky for my own good and another fighter had my leg crushed. It was about two years ago. The doctors were convinced I’d never walk again, let alone be able to run or train. But I proved them wrong.”

  “Wow. That’s incredible,” I said, admiring him. “Did they catch the guy who did it?”

  He shot me a look. “No. This is Boston. They weren’t interested in a fight between fighters, even if I had proof of who it was.”

  “Wait. You knew who did it and they still didn’t do anything?” I was appalled.

  “I had a strong suspicion… But they weren’t interested in my speculation. And they didn’t want to work on the case, so it was shoved to the back burner and forgotten about.”

  I stared at the sidewalk as we walked. I didn’t want to stir things up by bringing up my own attack just a few minutes ago, so I kept quiet. I also knew better than to rely on a man for anything.

  Sure, men were great sexual partners, but to lean on someone other than myself scared me. I leaned on my father for a long time, and he let me down. Hard. So I was skeptical about trusting Kingston. Hell, Dad was there for me for year
s, but then when it mattered, he ran away. And Kingston… I barely knew him. I wasn’t about to trust him, let alone share any part of myself with him.

  I realized then that I wasn’t afraid of the asshole in black. He might have threatened my life, but I was stronger than some jerk who wanted to intimidate me. No matter what happened, I wasn’t backing out of my next fight, or any after that. I wouldn’t be pushed around. In fact, if my hands hadn’t been all jacked up, I probably would have taken a swing or two at the guy.

  “You should probably go home after we bandage up your hands. You need a day or two to heal before you start training again,” Kingston explained when we were about half a mile from the gym.

  I wasn’t excited about the idea of not training, especially so close to my first fight, but I knew he was right. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

  “Rest up tonight and you can come into the gym tomorrow afternoon and do some leg work,” he amended.

  Thank God. “Thanks. I don’t even know what I would do if I had to sit at home all day by myself.”

  He gave me a half smile, one corner of his mouth lifting and creating the most adorable dimple. My breath caught. I was captivated by him, even though I certainly didn’t want to be. Attraction was one of those things that was hard to control, and even harder to fight. I wanted nothing more than for the two of us to end up back in bed together.

  I had to shake my head to clear it and force my feet to keep walking. Despite our unplanned kiss earlier, I still needed to keep my distance. He was far too dangerous – to my heart and my career. After one night with him, all I could think about was getting him back into bed. I definitely needed some space from him. Maybe I’d forget about how good in the sack he was.