by Laura Day
JAX THE FIGHTER: Fighting Dirty Trilogy, Book 1
By Laura Day
I hurt people.
I lose myself in the sweat and blood and the sound of bones breaking.
Maple’s different.
She saved me, made me whole again.
Now, someone wants to hurt her.
And it’s my turn to save her.
Even if it means going back to jail
Even if it means killing again.
Chapter One
Maple
He looked at her face. Even after he had thrust himself inside her, he still looked at her face. Maple’s hands were wound around his neck and shoulders; her legs were wrapped around his waist, anchoring her against the wet countertop as he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside her.
She could feel his breath hot against her neck, and she could smell the blood from the cut just above his left eye. Maple closed her eyes and braced herself against his vigorous movements. She loved how rough and unapologetic he was. She loved how he had followed her into the gym’s grimy bathroom after the fight just so that he could fuck her on its tiled counter.
Maple had watched him fight that night with an awe she had not felt in a long time. He was confident, focused, and animalistic in his approach. He moved with a grace that belied his broad shoulders and intimidating height. He had taken his first hit without reaction, and even after being thrown to the ground, he had risen again, without hesitation, to finish the fight. Within half an hour, it was all over and Maple had moved towards the back of the large room with the crowd chanting his name. “Jax, Jax, Jax” that was all she could hear ricocheting off the walls of the underground gym.
His hand moved towards her breasts. Before Maple could form a single thought, he had ripped the buttons off her blouse to reveal the plain nude bra she wore underneath it. He popped it open expertly and ran his bloodstained hands over her breasts. Uncaring of the mark he left on her, Maple tried to pull herself closer to him. His body was hard and sinewy; there was nothing there but muscle and tattoos. They covered the length of him; the only part that wasn’t inked was his face. Maple was thankful for that; she was thankful that there was nothing there to compete with the brilliant steely blue of his eyes.
He bent his head down and took her left nipple in his mouth. Maple moaned as an unexpected thrill of pleasure shot through her. She could feel his tongue, as he sucked on her, and there was something primal and revelatory about how he made her feel. She could so easily lose herself in him, and Maple realized that was exactly what she wanted—to lose herself.
Suddenly, as though a fire had been lit under him, Jax increased the tempo of his speed. He started plunging himself harder against her until Maple was grabbing at him in order to keep herself from screaming. She grabbed his hand, and after a moment, a part of her brain registered moisture. She opened her eyes to see a thin flow of blood issuing from his open elbow.
“Oh my God,” Maple breathed. “Your elbow.”
“Forget it,” he breathed without slowing down.
Maple found her eyes rolling back inside her head, but she willed herself to concentrate. “It’s bleeding badly.”
“Yeah,” Jax replied. “And I have a cut on my face and a cracked rib. That’s not going to stop me.”
On the last word, he ploughed into her so hard that Maple screamed out loud. She could feel the Prince Albert tattoo on the end of his penis. She acknowledged a hint of pain, but the pleasure greatly outweighed it.
“Turn over,” he said, as he pulled her off the counter top, turned her around, and bent her over it.
Maple was completely wet, and he slid into her easily. He continued to fuck her with a ferocity that dazzled her. There was something about the way he touched her. He was not gentle or kind; he was not soft or delicate. He was single-minded and purposeful. His hands were rough as they travelled over her body, hitting her ass and squeezing her breasts until she cried out.
He fucked like he fought, Maple realized, as he slid in and out of her. He was looking for the same thing she was; he was looking to lose himself in sweat and blood and the thrill of ecstasy. His hands wrapped themselves around her and pulled her upright so that his lips were at her neck. She could hear the sound of his hips slamming against her buttocks and slowly the pleasure began to build. She felt him groan, and the sound sent another rush of pleasure through her.
His hand dipped down between her legs and his finger began to work at her in slow strokes that grew consistently faster. Maple gripped at him, at the counter, at whatever was in her reach as the build-up rose to its climax. She came with her eyes closed and her body shivering softly against him.
She had no time to recover, no time to breathe because he didn’t stop. He kept fucking her with a determination that belied all logic. Her back curved against the wall of muscle that was his stomach as his tongue worked over her ear and neck.
“Fuck!” Maple cried, as he rammed into her. “Fuck.”
She came again with her elbows on the counter and her legs throbbing and weak. Jax slipped out of her, his breathing coming in short, even bursts. There was sweat glistening off his shaved head, and his blue eyes glanced around as though they were seeing something else.
Breathing heavily, Maple straightened herself slowly and tried to adjust what remained of her clothes. She was grateful that she kept a change in the locker she had been assigned when she had first been given the job cleaning out the gym. She opened the tap and washed her hands. Her dark brown hair lay in a heap of tangles around her head, but it did nothing to hide the large and prominent red scar that snaked down her face. It began in a sharp peak at the top of her left eye and snaked downwards, well past her cheek, dominating her whole face.
Tentatively, she turned, wondering how to make her exit. He was already fully clothed, but Maple could see his tattoos winking out at her from underneath his sleeves. He came forward unexpectedly, and Maple froze. He raised his hand and traced the scar on her face with an unknowable expression. Then, he turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving Maple standing there with his blood, sweat, and scent clinging to every inch of her body.
Chapter Two
Jax
“Jax.”
As his fist hit the sandbag for what must have been the hundredth time, Jax felt a sting skate over his knuckles. He gritted his teeth and steeled himself against the pain, as he continued the attack on his inanimate opponent. Sweat was dripping down his face and into his eyes, but he refused to slow down.
“Jax!”
He tightened his muscles and narrowed his eyes, as he struggled to overcome the need to stop and take a breath. His vision blurred slightly, and he started seeing dark spots that looked like people he used to know. They were coming closer, converging on him like vultures, and Jax knew he needed to push that much harder to keep them at bay.
“Jax!” Evan appeared in front of him, grabbing the punching bag and pulling it to a stop before Jax’s next punch. “Didn’t you hear me?” he asked impatiently.
“I was concentrating,” Jax replied.
“There’s concentration and then there’s obsession,” Evan said dryly. “You’ve been at the punching bag for a half hour. Take a break.”
“I don’t need a break,” Jax said roughly.
“Fine, then move on to some muscle strengthening exercises.”
Jax moved to the right corner of the gym where the weights were kept. There were no storage cupboards, just old benches that were rusting at the legs. The gym was large enough to be a fighting venue, but it didn’t suffer from delusions of grandeur. The walls had a crust on them that had been built up over years of neglect. Its floors had been matted for training purposes, but there was a greasiness that seemed to creep in every
where else. Lighting was minimal—even during fight nights—because the gym had no sanction to exist in the first place.
Jax grabbed the rope that was circled like a sleeping snake right next to the weights bench. He found a shorter cut that was thick, sturdy, and strong enough to support the weights that Jax attached to one end of it. Once he was done, Jax bent his head down and wrapped the other end of the rope around his own neck, tightening it around his throat. On the count of three, he pulled his head up, bringing the weights up with him. The strain made his throat constrict, but he ignored the gagging reflex and kept moving his head up and down.
Jax could hear the sounds of overhead movement. The dim lights of the gym flickered now and again, as though to remind everyone where they were. From the corner of his eye, he could see Evan watching him with his lips pursed and his eyes focused. Jax ignored him and everything else and kept going until he had counted to a hundred.
“Are you done?” Evan asked coming forward.
“No,” Jax replied, his voice came out in a rasp.
Evan sighed. “You’ve been at this for almost four hours. You need to stop now.”
“I just need another hour,” Jax said abruptly.
“You’re pushing too hard,” Evan said, as he tried to make himself heard.
Jax ignored him and moved towards the rope that hung down from the ceiling. Again, he wrapped its end around his neck.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Evan asked, as he stepped in front of Jax.
“Muscle training,” Jax replied. “To build up my neck strength so I can resist punches to the face.”
Before Evan could reply, Jax lifted both his feet from the ground, effectively strangling himself. He could feel his face go red as his circulation became more and more restricted. He shut out the entire world and concentrated hard. The urge to put his feet back on the ground was great, but he fought against it, counting seconds like they were minutes.
Shorter than he could have anticipated, his eyes began to water and the world seemed to slip out of focus for the briefest of seconds. Jax sharpened his determination like a steel sword and pushed himself against it until another ten seconds had gone by and he tried to think of what else would help him get through the next ten seconds.
It was only when he realized his consciousness was slowly slipping away, that he relented and put his feet back on the ground. Relief flooding through his body in waves, as he removed the rope from around his neck, aware that Evan was still standing right in front of him.
“What?” Jax asked defensively.
“You insane bastard,” Evan said shaking his head.
Jax smiled. “That’s why I’m your greatest student.”
Evan’s lips twitched at the corners, but he managed to keep the smile off his face. “You’ve been training harder than usual lately.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Jax asked, unconcerned.
“Not if you risk killing yourself in the process,” Evan pointed out.
Jax rolled his eyes. “Do you remember when I first walked into this gym? Do you remember the speech you gave me?”
Evan sighed. “Something tells me I’m going to regret giving that speech in the first place.”
“You told me that I needed to give you everything. You told me that I needed to give this gym everything. You said that I needed to train hard and fight hard, never give up and never give in, because you were not going to waste your time on half-assed fuckers who didn’t really, really want it.”
Evan shook his head and took a step forward. Despite the fact that Jax was several inches taller than Evan’s lean and sturdy six feet, he always felt like he was looking up him. “I said that,” Evan nodded. “And I meant it. But I don’t know what you want anymore.”
Jax furrowed his brow. “I want this. I want to fight. I want to be the best MMA fighter there is.”
“Is that all?”
“What does that mean?” Jax asked defensively.
Evan looked at him with an expression that resembled concern. “The way you fight… it’s like you want to forget something; it’s like you want to run away from something.”
Jax shifted his gaze. “Everyone has something in their life they want to escape.”
“But not everyone is willing to destroy themselves in order to escape it.”
Jax shook his head. “I—”
“Listen to me,” Evan said, cutting him off. “You are a brilliant fighter. But you need to figure out the reason you fight in the first place. Do you want to be an illegal MMA fighter who never even made it out of the pits? Or do you want to stand in open rings and fight in front of a real crowd and gain some legitimate recognition?” He paused for a second, his dark eyes blazing. “Don’t you want to get out of this shitty underground gym?”
“Of course—”
“Then stop fucking around,” Evan said fiercely. “And stop fighting like you have nothing to lose.”
Chapter Three
Maple
Maple woke up to the sound of a police siren. She had a thin sheet pulled up over her face, but it did nothing to keep the light from streaming in through her windows. Her body was aching from her night of restless sleep, and she could feel a cramp coming on along her left leg.
She did her best to stretch in the small space that the backseat of her car afforded her, but no matter which way she turned, she always managed to hit something. She caught her reflection in the rearview mirror and cursed internally. Her face looked pale and hollowed in at the cheeks, and there were dark circles under her eyes that made her scar look particularly prominent that morning.
She slipped out of the oversized shirt she was wearing and pulled on pants and a t-shirt that still had a day left in them. Then she slipped into the rat-infested alleyway that served as her bathroom and brushed her teeth quickly before heading to work. Finding a job at the gym had been a stroke of luck for Maple. She had spent months trying to find employment in the city, and she might even have succeeded had it not been for the giant scar that snaked down her face.
Maple hated that she could never forget about the scar. She saw it every time she looked at another person. It was reflected in their eyes, the mistrust, the dislike and worst of all, the pity. Evan had been different from the others. He hadn’t blinked twice when he had first seen her. He had been direct, blunt, and to the point. He asked her if she could clean the gym and keep its operations secret, and the moment she had said yes, he had given her the job.
Maple had worked there for a few weeks, and for the first time, she was starting to feel as though she was on steady ground. The gym was only a fifteen-minute walk from where her car was parked. Because she set off to work so early each morning, the streets were usually quiet with only a few people milling around. Today was no different, but Maple kept turning around every few minutes, trying to figure out if there really was someone following her or if she was just being paranoid.
The door to the club was open, and Sam was wiping down tables when Maple entered. She waved to him before moving down to the large, underground basement where the gym was located. There were only two people training on the mats when Maple walked in. She stayed in the shadows and watched for a little bit. When she watched them fight, there were times it reminded her of a dance. Evan was faster, but Jax was all about power and strength. His attack was instinctive but focused, and his face seemed to be cut out of stone with the intensity of his concentration.
Maple closed her eyes for a moment, trying to bottle that feeling of floating that she had first experienced when Jax had pushed himself inside her. It was right on the periphery of her memory, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to catch it before it disappeared. Unconsciously, her hand travelled up to her face to trace the line of her scar. She remembered how he had looked at her, the way his fingers had felt against her face. He had looked at her as though he couldn’t see her scar.
She watched as Jax came at Evan from the right. His body slanted, as he
made contact with Evan, grabbing his torso and throwing him to the ground in a move that looked effortless. Maple had never liked fighting of any kind; it reminded her of violence, and her body shied away instinctively. Somehow, watching Jax fight, it was different. If she saw the violence-taking place, she was also forced to acknowledge the beauty that existed there.
She watched as Jax held out his hand and helped Evan to his feet. The two of them smiled as they exchanged words and moved towards the back of the gym where the water cooler was kept. Maple turned to move towards the bathrooms when a tall silhouette caught her eye, and she froze in place, caught unawares.
“Liked that did you?” an eerily familiar voice asked, tauntingly.
“Ryan?” Maple said on a breath, feeling the color drain from her face.
He took a step forward, and she saw the smile playing on his lips. His thin, blond hair was an untidy mess, and his dark eyes were sharp and aimed at her with purpose. “Nice scar. I’m glad I was able to give you a parting gift.”
