Silver and Chrome: A Bad Boy MC Romance (72 page)

Later that day, Joel
explained to Amber that the only way that living together was going to work for
him was if he could contribute. To that end, he told her that he would split
the rent and bills with her fifty-fifty. He felt bad, but in order to explain
how he would manage his half, he made up a lie about Shawn giving him some work
to do at the club that he could do after they closed at nights.

The lie served two
purposes. For one, it explained his sudden influx of cash. But just as important,
it also explained away how he would be coming home late some nights. He figured
even if he only fought once a week, it would be more than enough to cover the
expenses. Anything over that he could just save for emergencies. If he showed
Amber too much cash, it would be suspicious anyway, since it was unlikely Shawn
would be paying him very much for doing odd jobs after hours at the club.

For a few weeks, things
went along perfectly. His training and conditioning at the gym were improving
his technique and stamina, and he was winning all of his after-hours fights for
Randy. Occasionally he'd come back with a noticeable bruise or black eye, but
those were easily explained away. He would tell Amber that he got it during
training, and he would tell each of the guys that he had got it the previous
day from one of the other guys when they were sparring. No one asked questions.
Injuries were part of the job.

"Why the big
smile," Amber asked him one morning, about a month after he had moved in.

"Isn't rent due
today?"

Amber squinted at her
boyfriend with a little frown. "Yes... so again, why the big smile?"

Joel shrugged. "I
don't know, I've never paid rent before. It feels kind of nice to be able to, I
guess." He handed her an envelope filled with his half.

Amber threw her head back
as she laughed. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who was happy to pay
rent before." When she saw Joel's smile fade a bit, she walked up to him
and cupped his cheeks in her hands, pulling his head down until their foreheads
touched. "I know what you mean, though. I think it's sweet." She
pressed her lips to his and gave him a hard kiss to emphasize her point.

"I got you something
else," he said, pulling away from her and opening her closet door. He
reached up to the top and stuck his hand between the extra blankets that were
out of her reach, pulling out a rectangular black box. It was almost as big as
a shoe box, but much thinner. He handed it to Amber as she gave him a
questioning look.

"What is this?"

"Open it," he
said.

Holding the box with one
hand, Amber lifted off the lid with the other. When she saw what was inside,
she inhaled sharply.

"You said you didn't
have one," he said, reaching into the box. He pulled apart the ends and
pushed his hands through her red hair to place it around her neck and then
stepped back. Amber hadn't said anything, she was just staring down at the
empty box in her hand.

"I think it
fits," he said. "I don't think it comes in different sizes."

Amber finally lifted her
head, and when she did there were tears streaming down her face. "I can't
believe you remembered..." Her hands reached up and she touched the metal
disc that hung around her belly, running her fingers around its edge.

Joel shrugged and reached
up to wipe away the tears from her face. "Can't be a nurse without a
stethoscope, right? Think of this as just the first step toward your
dreams."

Amber leapt forward,
tackling her boyfriend onto the bed behind him and kissing him, running her
fingers through his blond hair, pulling his face close to hers and biting on
his full lips. "You're amazing," she whispered.

Joel was almost late for
his training session that morning after Amber had insisted on demonstrating her
appreciation, over and over. He almost had to fight her off trying to get her
to let him get ready to go.

He sped through his
training, his mind on other things. As usual, he spent most of his time
studying technique and working on his stamina, foregoing weights and strength
training. He was more of a technical fighter and figured he would have time to
build up more power behind his punches later. For now, he decided it was more
important to be able to last long enough to go for the submissions he had been
perfecting. In the past, many of his wins came from those submissions and he
wanted to concentrate on his strengths. Chris argued that he needed to be more
well-rounded, as there were times where your opponent forced a boxing match no
matter how much you wanted to wrestle. Joel could see the value in that, but he
would have time to focus on that later.

He was fighting tonight,
and it was a big one. His opponent was from out of state, but
rumored
to be unbeaten. He was
on vacation and looking for some action while away from home. Randy had told
Joel it would be a big payday because there were a lot of people that had heard
about this guy and wanted to see him fight. He figured winning this one fight
alone would probably net Joel over a grand. Maybe a lot more.

When he finished at Rock
House at around six, he went through his normal routine. He headed to the
shelter nearest to the fight for a nap, and then woke up in time to walk to the
venue. This time it was inside of an abandoned factory. When he got there, the
parking lot was full and he could hear the noise from the crowd even before he
opened the front door.

Inside waiting for him
was the biggest crowd he'd seen at one of these. Easily a couple hundred
people, and he could see that Randy was already walking around with his
assistants, taking bets. When he noticed Joel, he waved him over and they
stepped away to talk privately.

"You ready for this
one, kid?"

"Of course,"
Joel said.

"This guy is
big," Randy said, motioning with his head.

Joel looked over to where
he had indicated. Standing by the wall of the factory was a huge monster of a
man. His arms were thick and corded with muscle, and his long legs reminded
Joel of tree trunks. He had tattoo sleeves running up both arms and seemed to
have virtually no neck that Joel could see. He went from broad muscular
shoulders directly to a head that was topped with a closely cropped haircut
that looked like it had been done at a military barber. Joel tried not to look
disturbed by the size of the man and just nodded.

Randy laughed nervously.
"Well, the bigger they are the harder they fall, right? That's what they
say." He clapped Joel on the shoulder. "Good luck, kid. We start in
five." Randy returned to the crowd to continue collecting bets.

He's big, but can he
fight?
 
Joel knew from experience that size didn't really
mean anything if there wasn't enough technique to back it up. This guy was
unbeaten, but who knows what the competition was like where he came from. Joel
had been training with actual professionals. He'd been working a lot on his
stamina and technique lately. Surely he had the advantage. As big as this guy
was, he'd have to lug all of that weight around. Probably tires him out pretty
quickly.

"Joel, hey!"

His attention shifted to
the familiar bald man that had recognized him from his tournament. He'd seen
the man come to a few of his fights since then, and wasn't surprised to see him
here again today.

"That's one big
mother fucker," the man noted.

"So is Carlos,"
Joel responded. "But I'll still happily kick his ass if I ever get the
chance."

The other man gave a
slight nod, pursing his lips as if he was doubtful, but too polite to say it.
Joel shrugged and turned away. He'd dealt with doubters all his life. He
usually proved himself with his fists. He wondered whether he'd ever get the
chance to do that with Carlos.

Walking back through the
crowd, Joel pulled off his shirt as Randy started the introductions. The crowd
cheered when he announced Joel. He imagined how much louder it would be if he
ever made it to the big time, fighting in massive Las Vegas casinos or city
stadiums.

Then Randy introduced his
opponent who apparently went by the nickname the Executioner. The crowd roared
even louder when they heard that. He wondered, not for the first time, whether
he should have a nickname of his own.

The fight began and both
men approached each other. As Joel suspected, the big man wasn't quick, and he
started to strategize how to use that to his advantage. Each step the man took
was an awkward forward shuffle that led with his right leg as he seemed to drag
the rest of his bulk up behind it.

His opponent was standing
in a traditional fighting stance, with his right arm raised near his face,
squared off with his right knee, and his shoulder facing Joel. As they got
closer, Joel noticed the tattoo that was plastered across his entire upper arm.
It was a very detailed image of a muscular man with a black hood draped across
his head and face. His hands held a sharpened axe that lay across his shoulder,
dripping blood. The entire tattoo was black and white except for the blood,
which was bright red. He wondered which came first, the nickname or the tattoo.

Joel decided to make his
move, anticipating a slow response from the big man. With a burst of speed, he
swung his leg up and slammed it into his opponent, right under the raised right
arm and then pulled it away before the big man could respond. He connected
solidly, but the Executioner barely even flinched. Instead, he took another step
toward Joel. Joel moved a step back, trying to keep out of reach.

The crowd reacted with a
roar when he had thrown his kick, but now they booed as he moved out of reach,
thirsting for more action.

He leapt forward again,
this time throwing two punches at the big man's mid-section and then slipping
away just as his meaty arms came down to try and grab for him. And again,
although his punches were solid, the other man didn't seem to be affected by
the attacks.

Again the man advanced,
and as Joel stepped back he reached the edge of the crowd behind him. Usually
the circle would move as the crowd kept a relatively equal distance between
themselves and the fighters. Tonight, though, they weren't getting out of the
way. Joel wasn't sure if it was because there were a lot more people here than
usual, and maybe they just didn't know the etiquette, or if it was because they
thought they could force more action by blocking his retreat. Whatever it was,
he was trapped from moving back any further.

Before he could decide
what to do, the other fighter attacked. He took another step forward to close
the gap and then threw a roundhouse punch at Joel's head. It wasn't quick and
Joel had plenty of time to raise his arm to deflect it, but the sheer power of
the other man pushed right past his block and his fist connected with the side
of his head, knocking him off balance.

He could hear the crowd
around him roar as they finally stepped back, anxious to not become part of the
action themselves. It was too late for Joel, though. He tried to stagger back
out of the way, but the Executioner moved forward again before he'd completely
recovered. Another fist drove into him, this time hitting him right in the face
after once again pushing past his guard as if he were a white belt on his first
day of class.