Fighter

It was my cousin. He was large and in charge, and dressed all in black, except for the white lettering across his chest that said STAFF. Between his sunglasses, bald head, and tattoo circling his neck and trailing up the back of his skull, he would’ve terrified most people. Not me. He was just a year older than me, even though he looked thirty, and I had enough dirt on him to know he had a healthy fear of his mother. The knowledge I could share with her would be my blackmail.

“You have a weapon,” he pointed out. “No way, Dale. Besides, your brothers are already here, and I have strict instructions not to let you in.”

I pointed the stun gun at him. “Still have those strict instructions?”

He grumbled, but he knew I would do it. It didn’t matter where we were or that my escape would’ve reminisced a tortoise trying to flee the scene.

He shook his head. “Fine. Whatever.” He held open the door, and as we started in, he grumbled, “You got in through the back door, okay? Ted’s back there, and he’s wasted. If they ask him, he’ll probably be convinced you actually did get in through there.” He stopped talking as Haley brushed against his arm.

She smiled at him, slow and seductive. “Nice and large,” she said as she dropped her gaze. “I wonder what else is nice and large.”

He stood upright and fought not to smile back. Still wearing his shades, he scanned her up and down. “Still with that Carl guy, Haley?”

She tilted her head and trailed a hand down his chest. “We ended things last Friday.”

“So you’re living free and fun now?”

She winked at him. “How’d you know the names of my two girls?” She jiggled her chest, making her breasts sway. Then, continuing to laugh, she pushed my wheelchair forward. “Let me know if you’ve got some free time. I’ll arrange an introduction.”

He grunted, his eyes trained solely on her backside now. “Will do. Will do.”

Once we were inside, I twisted around, frowning. “Who’s Carl? I thought it was Clint.”

“It was, but your cousin can call my ex any name he wants. I forgot how delicious he is.”

“My cousin or my brother?”

“Oh.” She pretended to swat at my head. “I’m single. Clint’s been pretending he was single for the last two years, so I’m doing the same thing now. I have every intention of flirting with all hot male specimens who cross my path. Whether I hook up or not is up to me.” She made a clicking sound from the corner of her mouth and winked at me. “Now, let’s go find you some of your own fun and freedom, huh? Where’s that hot piece of ass I know you’re drooling to see fight again?”

I scowled at her, but I couldn’t ignore the little burst of sensation that shot through me. A tingle of excitement. She was right. It’d been too long since I saw Jaxon fighting, and when she wheeled me around a group of people to an open space where we could see the fighting ring, I got a view that lit my groin on fire.

Holy. Shit.

Jaxon was already in the ring, clad only in black shorts that hung low over his slim hips. As his opponent swung at him, he dodged, and every muscle in his backside contracted, showcasing themselves for my viewing pleasure. Stepping forward, he twisted to the side and brought an uppercut, ramming underneath his opponent’s chin. As he did, the rest of my lady parts jerked awake. I got a view of his front then, and his stomach muscles were just as ripped and sculpted as his backside. They were also red and bruised. He’d already taken a beating. I wasn’t surprised. His opponent was twice his size.

Wearing a mean-looking scowl, his opponent stumbled back a few steps, then grabbed the rope to steady himself. The crowd was going nuts, and Jaxon didn’t hesitate. He followed the larger man, delivering a series of jabs and uppercuts, from which his opponent couldn’t recover. He fell to a knee, and Jaxon backed up, but he shifted on his feet, and I knew what was next: He sprang up, flicking his knee forward and bringing his foot down on top of the guy’s head.

It was done after that. His opponent fell to the floor in a sprawl, and when the referee lifted his hand and let it go, it landed with a thump. He was out.

This was an automatic win, and the crowd roared in approval. Jaxon raked his taped hands over his face, spreading blood from his knuckles. I also saw a cut at the top of his eye seeping blood. He might’ve made it worse, but he didn’t seem to care. A cocky smirk covered his face as he turned to his corner. One of the guys waiting there helped him climb out of the ring.

“Again! Again!” The crowd started to chant, raising fisted hands in the air.

Jaxon lifted his head, his smirk growing, and turned back to the ring. His fallen opponent was being carried off, and another guy had jumped in. This one was leaner than the first but wore another ugly scowl. He began bouncing up and down, stretching his arms over his chest, and he waved a finger at Jaxon, beckoning him into the ring.