Hurt: A Bad Boy MMA Romantic Suspense Novel (2 page)

I dropped my pants and kicked out of them.

There I was, mostly naked, ready to try and make ends meet.

All the while, in the back of my mind, I thought the same thing:
Where the fuck was Noah?

4.

(Noah)

“Jesus Christ!” I yelled.

Bo dropped to his knees, shaking. His hands were up, his joints locked. His face looked paralyzed, mouth open, drool dripping from the corner.

“Can’t take no chances,” a second guard said as he stuck a key into the lock and opened it. “Big Bo likes to fight.”

Bo collapsed to the floor, on his face, still shaking.

“You’re going to fucking kill him,” I said.

“No,” the guard said. “It’s just…
shocking
…” The guard smiled. “Then again, if we keep pulling the trigger and juicing him, he might die.”

“Then fucking stop!” I yelled.

“You, Noah, come out here,” the guard said. He stepped back and put a hand to his gun. “Right now.”

I had no choice but to step forward and step over Bo. He was still shaking. There were pins or something stuck in his back with a curled wire that lead to the other guard. His eyes were focused on Bo, his finger on the trigger.

“Bo wouldn’t hurt a guard,” I said. “He’s kept himself clean for years. Trying to make sure his family is cared for.”

“I don’t know that,” the guard said. “Now, Noah, put your fucking hands out.”

I stepped out of the cell and offered my wrists. The guard cuffed me and then nodded to the other guard. He stopped zapping the hell out of Bo.

“Clean him up,” the guard said. “He probably shit himself.” The guard looked at me. “It happens.” He looked to the other guard again. “Call it in that Bo was aggressive when we took Noah for questioning.”

“Questioning on what?” I asked.

“Someone killed an inmate,” the guard said. “I want to ask you questions about it.”

“I’ve been in my cage all fucking day.”

“Yeah, I know,” the guard said and grinned. “Walk.”

The guard shoved me and I started to walk.

Man, I wanted to throw an elbow at him. Send him hard into a wall. I knew I could have killed him. Easily. This guy was only tough and powerful because of his badge and his gun. Even with that I could still take him.

When you’re inside you have to look at the end game. The light at the end of the tunnel. For some guys, that light is death. For other guys -
like me
- it’s freedom. So you take your bad days, your hits, punishments, and beat downs with a frail sense of pride, knowing that one day you’ll walk away from the place.

“My name is Jack, by the way,” the guard said. “We’re going downstairs for a chat.”

“Downstairs?” I asked. “Jesus Christ, that’s…”

“You’re not going solitary, I promise.” Jack led the way a little more and then asked, “You ever have a family?”

“No,” I said.

“It’s expensive. Wife, kids, house. Cars. Can’t have too old of a car. Has to be somewhere in between, you know? Competing with the neighbor to the right but definitely nicer than the neighbor on the left. That’s my fucking life, Noah. Reading online messages to my daughter, trying to figure out what kind of fucking language teenagers use these days. Looking at my son and wondering if he’ll man up and play a sport or just end up sketching trees in a notebook, worried about his fucking feelings.”

“Sounds like the dream life,” I said.

Jack turned and put me against a wall.

We were downstairs, the pit of the jail. It stunk like water, piss, and rust. He put a club to my neck and held it there. He had a small and uneven mustache. His front teeth were yellowish and a little crooked. The bags under his eyes were big enough to carry Bo.

“I’m going to lose the house,” Jack said. “Unless you do what you do best.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.

“Fight. I got a bet on you.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“No,” Jack said. “I need five grand to get out from under a few things.”

“And I’m fighting someone?”

“Convicted rapist,” Jack said. “Real scum piece of shit. We all want him dead. So if you get things in motion, the paperwork gets easier.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah. You’ll get something out of it. I promise.”

“And if I lose?” I asked.

“One way or another, we’re filing paperwork for a dead inmate,” Jack said. “The information is all filled out… except the name.”

Jack started to walk forward again. He tucked his club away, hooked his thumbs into his belt, and started to whistle. It echoed and carried down the narrow hallway.

And just like that, I was back to square one.

Fighting for my life.

5.

(Ashlynn)

I never took my top off. I never got naked. I never went home with anyone who came in, no matter how good the offer seemed to be. There were girls hired to dance on the tables and take their tops off. That wasn’t me. My boss Ricky had offered me a lot of money to do just that when he hired me, but I refused. He offered more than the top earning girl because he claimed there was a
heavy-tit-milk
fetish that guys liked.

I still declined.

Bad enough I had to wear a bikini to do my job, I wasn’t going to let it go anywhere else.

I had plenty of tables and that meant plenty of money. It really wasn’t all that bad of a job. Just a mix between a restaurant and a strip club. But much more low key. No hard thumping music or a stage and a runway. It was more upscale, almost elegant, if you were able to look at it that way.

Whatever though, it paid all my bills, left me able to take care of Jude, and I had a little here and there leftover for myself. That was all I could ask for right then. It wasn’t a forever kind of thing. I was still trying to grasp all that had changed in my life. Pregnant by a stranger who had all but disappeared.
Big shock.
My mother getting diagnosed with cancer after she thought she had nothing but a stubborn case of heartburn.

It was a barrage of bullshit and I simply stood in the hurricane and waited it all out.

At least that’s what I told myself at night so I could sleep easier.

I served another round of drinks to a table of four businessmen. As I turned, I felt a hand touch my lower back. Next thing I knew, my bottoms were being ripped open. I spun, swinging my hand. The guy ducked and let out a cackling laugh. I fell into him, of course my chest inches from his dumb face.

“Now that’s something I’ll take,” he said. “I was just giving you a tip, sweetie. I guess I’m getting mine.”

“You’re a pig,” I said and got away from him. I grabbed the bill from my waist and saw it was a fifty. As much as I wanted to give it back…
I needed it.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from. I heard a rumor that you recently had a baby. And that… everything still works.”

I looked around the table. These guys were staring right at my chest. I wasn’t some kind of fucking play toy. This wasn’t some kind of fantasy either.

“I’ll have someone else finish up here,” I said.

“Wait,” the guy said and grabbed for my wrist. “Don’t be a bitch about it. Come on. You’re fucking beautiful. All the right curves. A little extra skin jumping around. Those tits…”

I swung my hand again and connected with the guy’s face.

The slap hurt me worse than him. He jumped back in his chair and grabbed his face.

“Fucking whore,” he growled.

Next thing I knew he grabbed a drink and threw it at me. He jumped up and lunged forward, right at me. I felt his hands grab my top and pull.

“Show me!” he said. “Right now!”

I tried to wiggle away but the guy was bigger than I was.

I tried to scream but was in complete shock.

Two bouncers were there, thankfully, and grabbed the guy. He turned and threw a punch, hitting one of the bouncer’s in the mouth. Blood sprayed from the bouncer’s mouth.

I gasped and covered my mouth.

The other bouncer hit the guy in the side of the head, dropping him, knocking him out cold.

Ricky came out of nowhere and got in the mix of things. He was short, heavy, a neck full of gold chains, fingers to match. He took out a gun and pointed it at the bouncer.

“You two, out of here,” he said.

“Hey, this asshole hit first.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Ricky said. “Get the fuck out of here.”

The two bouncers walked away.

The guy on the floor started to move.

One of the other guys stood up and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. He took out a business card and gave it to Ricky.

“You’ll be hearing from me,” he said. “I’m an attorney. We all are.” The guy then turned to me and grabbed the fifty dollar bill out of my hand. “You definitely didn’t earn this.”

The guys picked up their wounded friend and walked out of the restaurant.

Ricky looked around, surveying the rest of the paying customers. Everyone was calm, collected, and Ricky reassured everyone things were just fine. It wasn’t the first time someone grabbed at me or did something ignorant. It wouldn’t be the last. My job was to get away from the table peacefully and ask for help. I shouldn’t have hit the guy. Even if he did deserve it.

Once Ricky seemed satisfied, he looked at me. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I…”

“Get a towel and wipe yourself off,” he said. “Then I want to see you in my office. Now.”

Just what I needed to top of another perfect day in my life.

I was about get fired.

6.

(Noah)

His name was Hank. He had a sculpted figure, tattoos everywhere except his actual face, and he had no problem coming after me to kick off the fight.

We were in a small room with three concrete walls and one wall made of glass. On the other side of the glass were three guards. There was no sound in the room except me and Hank breathing.

I had circled him a few times, trying to grasp at what was happening here. There was no way in fucking hell Benito sanctioned this kind of shit. He was supposed to keep me protected. Which meant… what? Had Benito given up on me? Was I on my own now? Christ, if that was true, that meant he’d have Bo transferred from me - or just killed.

I thought about Bo’s family when Hank threw the first punch.

My head bounced back and I felt my nose start to swell almost instantly. I blinked fast and stepped back.

“You ready for this?” I asked.

“Fuck you,” Hank said.

“I know what you did. They told me.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Hank said.

“Just once?”

“A few times.”

I felt the rage build up. They definitely gave me someone to go after. I shifted forward and threw a punch. I barely connected, but my second punch did. Hank moved to the left, covering his face. I hit him again with the same hand to the ribs. His head fell back as he screamed. So I punched him at the side of the face again.

That’s when he dropped to one knee.

I rushed up behind him and grabbed his head. I pulled it back to my knee, getting him good.

Hank fell forward on his hands and knees.

The fire rushed through my body.

It had been a long time since I had a fight like this. With an audience. With money backing it. Yeah, I was in the basement of a fucking jail, but it was still something. It meant something. I felt alive, like I had purpose again.

I kicked at Hank’s ribs and flipped him to his back. I dropped down on him, pinning his shoulders down with my knees. I looked him in the eyes and spit on his face.

“Scum,” I said.

“Please…”

“Beg me,” I said. “You’re my bitch, Hank. Now take it like a fucking man.”

I had no clue what had really gotten into me. It was like a killer had been hiding in me for a long time and was finally getting attention.

Punch after punch, I hit Hank harder. He tried to talk and I hit him harder. I felt his teeth cut my knuckles. He coughed on his own blood, turning his head, spitting it out. Each time he lifted his head, I’d hit him and his head would smack the ground. When I stopped, it was blood with the whites of his eyes.

I climbed off and backed away. My hands were sore. My heart raced faster than I could remember in a long time. Each time I took a breath, my mind shifted gears. One second I could hear the sound of the cops raiding the fight. The next second I could hear the moans of
her
as I fucked
her
in the bathroom. Her hands at the back of my neck. Her lips touching my skin. That desperate sense to hold on tight, her body confessing to me that she’d never been fucked the right way before.

None of that shit mattered though. I was in jail and she was somewhere else. Probably living a normal life. Knowing in the back of her mind she had a wild story about a wild night with a wild fighter. A memory and nothing more.

Hank groaned and rolled to his side. He started to push himself up.

There was a knocking sound behind me.

I turned and Jack waved his hands.

“He’s done,” I said.

No
, Jack mouthed. He then put his thumb to his throat and ran it across.

Anger hit me again and I walked forward. I had no reason or business killing Hank. It was a bad idea.

When I got close enough, Hank jumped to his feet and drove his head into my gut. The fucking guy had played me. I stumbled back and tripped, crashing to the ground. We hit and I lifted my knees, sending Hank over me. I turned and got to my feet a second before he did. He was a dripping, bloody mess as he tried to attack again.

The fighter in me took control, mapping out all my punches. I took Hank right to the glass and pounded at him until he lowered his hands. I grabbed him and turned him, showing his face to Jack. Then I slammed his face over and over on the glass, watching the guards as their faces all turned white.

I finally let Hank go and he dropped.

Maybe he was dead, maybe he wasn’t.

I didn’t care.

The fight was over and I had won.

Jack came around and opened the door.