Unbroken (Fighter Erotic Romance #4) (9 page)

“Just like you always say brother Ripp,
I got this.
Just go with them. Give me ten, alright?” A-Train asked.

“Whu whu what you gonna…” the man stammered.

“Shut the fuck up,” A-Train shouted.

“Alec? What are you going to do?” Bug asked.

“Baby, I’m just going to take care of this guy. Don’t worry. Come back in ten, okay?” A-Train asked calmly.

I pointing to the car and looking around the dimly lit parking lot, “Get in the car. Alec’s right. I don’t need my ass on the news.”

After everyone nervously got into the car, we drove around the block. Something about the event in the parking lot must have had everyone on some form of mental high, and now that it was over we all sat in the car quietly staring straight ahead. As Vee drove, everyone sat motionless. Kace rested her head on my shoulder, and Bug stared out the window. When we approached the parking lot again, A-Train was leaning against the brick building beside the entrance, waiting calmly with his hands in his pockets. By my watch, twelve minutes had passed. As Vee slowed the SUV down at the edge of the entrance, A-Train opened the rear door and climbed in beside me.

“Why all the solemn faces?” A-Train asked.

Silence.

“Are you okay?” Bug asked softly from the seat behind us and broke the silence.

A-Train looked over his shoulder, “I’m fine, babe. No worries.”

“Dude, you takin’ that gun from that guy was some serious Jack Reacher shit. That was just like, whappity whap.
Who’s got the gun now, motherfucker?
”
Ripp said excitedly over his shoulder from the front seat.

“Who the fuck is Jack Reacher?” A-Train asked.

“You know. Tom Cruise plays him in the movies.
Jack Reacher
. He’s a bad ass mother fucker. He’d do something like that. Him or Jason Bourne,” Ripp chuckled.

“Well, I couldn’t have him taking Dekk’s seventeen bucks he’s got in that squeaky wallet of his,” A-Train laughed.

“I’m just glad we’re all okay,” Kace breathed.

The SUV filled with
me too’s
and
same here’s
as everyone agreed with Kace.

And the vehicle became quiet again.

As Vee approached the entrance to the highway, A-Train pulled up his shirt and reached into his pants. I watched as he removed the pistol from the waist of his jeans pressed a lever on the side of the weapon. After pulling on the barreled portion, he had the pistol in several pieces in his lap.

“Vee, I’m going to roll down the window for a second,” he said.

“Okay…” Vee responded over her shoulder from the driver’s seat.

A-Train wiped the portion of the pistol he held with his shirt until it was clean. Carefully holding it with the bottom of his untucked tee shirt, he tossed a piece of the pistol out the window into the darkness of the night and rolled up the window.

Five minutes later, he did the same thing.

And five minutes after that, he did it again.

And no one spoke a word.

SHANE
. I believe my experience in mentally preparing for fights has kept me from being nervous in the days which precede a fight. The length of time I have been boxing certainly comes into play as does my undefeated title. Not being defeated builds a level of confidence a new opponent doesn’t easily diminish – at least not by merely challenging me to a fight. To me, fighting is a part of my life no differently than going to church is to some people.

Something about
this
fight was different. I wanted this win for other reasons; and my deep desire for the win was causing me to second guess my ability. Without a doubt, Tyson Brock was a fighter who would present far more of a challenge to me than any opponent I faced in my entire career. The difference between him and everyone else I had fought was the difference between a backyard baseball game and the World Series. Although I would never admit it publicly, simply completing this particular fight would be a tremendous feat for me.

I felt if I would happen to win the fight my life would be in order for as long as Kace, our children and I would ever live. Through endorsements and prize money, Kelsey said I could expect between 50 and 100 million dollars before it was all over. Secretly, I wanted to retire undefeated and live a quiet life at home raising my children and acting as the husband and father I’ve always wanted to become.

In
this
fight, I’d need to dig deeper and find an inner strength to fuel me. In the past, the demons inside of me fueled me to step into the ring and fight. My talent in fighting allowed me to stand the successor in the end. Fighting Brock would be so much different for many reasons. I no longer felt the deep inner demons, nor did I truly believe I was a more talented fighter than he was. From a strength standpoint, although I was in better physical condition than I had ever been, he was certainly fractionally stronger.

Ultimately, I wanted to win.

But.

I wanted to be a father even more.

KACE.
Pride. For me to accurately explain how proud I was of Shane for making it to this level in his career would be nothing short of impossible. I have overheard him talking to Ripp, A-Train and even Kelsey expressing his concerns regarding his performance in this fight. Tick-Tock Brock is far more of a savage fighter than Shane from what little I have read. Brock is supposed to be a brawler, and Shane is a boxer. By everyone’s description, this is to be a mismatch.

I’m proud he has made it to this point. The fact he is here fighting for the Heavyweight Championship of the World is enough for me. The support of all of Alec’s friends has made my day far more pleasurable. They’ve helped take my nervousness and turn it into a newfound excitement. Because Shane is the challenger, we all have special seats at the front of the ring, they call these seats
ringside seats
. Ripp says it’s a big deal. I’m excited because Casey will probably be seen by millions of people on television.

Ripp’s parents, Ripp, Vee, Jessie, A-Train, Manda, Katie, Austin, and all of A-Train’s friends who came to support Ripp in court were also here – Kelli, Erik, Kelli’s father, Teddy, Heather, and some guy they call Bunny. Having this big crowd to support Shane throughout the fight makes me happy. Win or lose, tonight Shane is a winner. With Casey held high in the air above my head, we all cheered as Shane came down the aisle toward the ring. Joe and Kelsey proudly followed, one in front and one behind him.

I was on pins and needles, now sitting between Kelli and Vee. No matter who won, this fight needed to end quickly. The people, the cameras, and all of the commotion was far more than I would have ever imagined. My heart was racing no differently than if I was the one stepping into the ring.

As the announcer spoke into the microphone, the sound echoed throughout the entire arena.

“The challenger, in the blue corner, with a career record of 52 and 0, and a professional record of 13 and 0, weighing in at two hundred twenty seven pounds, Shane…Shame…On…Deeeeekkaaaaar.”

When the crowd cheered for Shane, it was incredible – thousands of people were screaming his name. The sound was nothing short of deafening and it felt so good to have all of these people behind him.

“And the champion, in the red corner,” when the announcer paused, the crowd went absolutely wild. The amount of noise they made for Tick-Tock Brock was twice what they made for Shane.

“With a professional record of 17 and 0, weighing in at two hundred thirty six pounds…” the announcer paused again.

“Tyson…Tick-Tock…BaaaahRocckkkk.”

The crowd went insane. I began to feel bad for Shane, considering the difference in the amount of cheering the crowd did for the champion. I guess Brock is the champion after all. If Shane was champion, I’d want people to cheer for him just as much.

Come on Shane, keep your head up. These people love you.

The referee talked to the fighters, and they went to their corners. In a minute, the bell rang and the fight began. Most of Shane’s fights are a challenge of two talented men, fighting in a boxing match where they have to study each other, and find an opening – a mistake in the other fighters prediction of what is going to happen – and take advantage of it.

This fight was nothing like that.

As soon as the bell rang, Tick-Tock rushed toward Shane and began swinging wildly. He hit Shane in the shoulder so hard he almost knocked him over. Another wild punch caught Shane in the face and caused him to attempt to cover up his face with his forearms and hands. During the cover up and attempted recovery for Shane, Brock hit him no less than thirty times.

It was as if Shane got off to a bad start and wasn’t going to have time or an opportunity to recover.

At the beginning of the fight, we all screamed for Shane. As the round continued, the yelling turned into people wincing and covering their mouths as Shane was hit once again by Brock’s powerful right hand. Shane did get a few good punches in, and the crowd cheered wildly, but those counter attacks were short lived and more of a defensive tactic for Shane.

As the round came to a close, I knew I didn’t want to hear what everyone had to say. I kind of hoped this would just end and we could go home.

When Shane walked to the corner, Kelsey began to scream, and I felt as if I was going to be sick. I needed to be strong for Shane so I sat up in my seat, propped Casey up by my chest, smiled and waved.

And said a silent prayer.

God, please let him make it out of this fight alive.

SHANE.
“I have a fucking minute to convince you to either fight or fly home a loser. God damn it kid, I didn’t come here to be embarrassed,” Kelsey paused and wiped my face with a sponge.

“Fights aren’t won in the ring, kid. They’re won in the gym, in your training, and inside your head. You’ve seen to many videos of this maniac, and you’re scared. This man is strong, but you’ve got talent. He’s brutal, but you’re intelligent.”

“I remember when we met, kid. I saw those scarred up hands of yours and I knew you were a street fighter. Now I need you to get off this stool here in about forty five seconds and forget everything you know
.
I can’t tell you how to fight this guy; hell I don’t even know what to say. He’s not fighting, he’s brawling. Forget everything I’ve ever taught you about boxing, Shane,” he hesitated.

“
Everything
,” he breathed into my face.

I sat stunned at what I was hearing.

“Boss?” I mumbled.

I felt as if I wanted some form of direction. Maybe something I wasn’t seeing or noticing that Kelsey
had
noticed and he’d bring it to my attention, which would allow me to go into the second round with a clearer vision of what was happening.

It was clear to me the first round got off to a bad start. The first punch Brock hit me with contacted my left shoulder. The amount of force behind the punch almost caused me to lose my footing. We’re both similar in size and weight, but he is far stronger than I am. After the first punch, he never let up. It was as if I never had a chance to determine what might be next. The entire round was one big right hand.

Over.

And.

Over.

Typically, I can study a boxer’s style and counter the technique he uses with my own. I have a unique ability to box either left or right handed and I am equally talented in each posture. With Brock,
boxing
was out of the question. Kasey was right. I couldn’t box this guy. I needed to find a way to
fight
him.

“Pay attention kid,” Kelsey growled.

“You’re far more talented than he is. But talent isn’t gonna pay the bills tonight, you hear me?” Kelsey’s face contorted with anger as he looked into my eyes.

I nodded my head.

“I need three god damned minutes of the guy who was out on the road away from his wife searching for bar fights. Find that guy. Or for three minutes, just three, get in that ring as
The Ripper
. Get in there and be Mike Ripton, kid. Give me three minutes of the meanest motherfucker I’ve ever seen. I need you to street fight this asshole. That’s all I’ve got, kid. Three minutes of mean.”

I nodded my head and stood from the stool.

Ding.

SHANE.
I’ve dreamed of reaching a point in my career where I was in a televised fight and the people who took the time to watch it were going to be treated to my fighting ability, style and finesse. I’ve always considered myself an entertaining boxer, and felt I have a reasonable amount to offer the up and coming talent in the industry. I am both a boxer and a fighter; but in the ring I am a boxer. My fighting has always been on and in the streets. Fighting, in no respect, is a show of talent. It is a measure of one’s ability to become or be vicious.

My preference tonight and all future nights was to be a boxer. A show of my ability to out-perform another man in the sport I’ve grown to love. But tonight, or at least three minutes at a time, I needed to find a way to become a monster.

As I stepped into the center of the ring, I began to think of all the men I had beaten over the years for their mistreatment of others. The guy in Watts, Los Angeles who cut his wife’s face for not having dinner ready when he got off work. The man three blocks down from my old gym who had beat his eleven year old son unconscious for chewing tobacco at school. The man who allowed his friends to gang-rape his wife.

Buster.

And my blood began to boil.

As Brock hurried to the center of the ring, I stepped in close with my elbows tucked, as if I were going to allow him to punch on me no differently than I did in the first round. My decision to attempt to box this man was tossed out the window. I decided to allow him to beat me for a few seconds, and the second he paused…

I was going to show him
how we do it here in in Texas
, as Ripp says.

With my gloves raised, and my elbows tucked in tight, he began to unleash a flurry into my forearms and gloves. His power was tremendous, but it was nothing I hadn’t felt before. I just had never allowed a man to continue to beat me in this manner. As he continued to pound me, the crowd went wild. Waiting for him to tire, I remembered the infamous Mohammad Ali, and his Rope-a-Dope fashion I had always made fun of – allowing his opponent to beat him until the challenger grew tired, and then hammering him with a flurry of heavy-handed punches. As he continued to swing wildly into my arms, I noticed a pattern.

Immediately prior to throwing a strong right hand, and only a strong right hand, he grunted deeply. The window of opportunity between the grunt and the punch wasn’t much, but it was there. Almost as if he provided himself energy from within, the grunting continued with every vicious right hand. As he continued to hammer me with a combination, I waited.

Tell-tale signs, big boy…you want to leave those at the door.

Grunt for me, you big bastard, I have to give this crowd what they paid for, and that’s a show.

A half second break in punches, and I heard it. He was preparing to throw a hard right.

I swung a left uppercut in the direction I hoped his chin was. My hand felt as if it contacted a brick wall.

I opened my stance and switched to unorthodox.

For a fraction of a second, stunned, he stood and stared.

Never been hit like that, have you? See what you think of this.

I unleashed a series of punches into his midsection, followed by a right hook to his left temple. The crowd went insane. The entire arena began screaming.

Dehhh-Kaaar, Dehhh-Kaaar, Dehhh-Kaaar.

Sorry folks, Dekkar isn’t here tonight. He’s been replaced by a man known as Ripp – a man with no conscience and a love for seeing blood. A man who’s fucking cock gets hard when he beats on people.

The referee was behind me and to the left slightly.

I stepped in close and threw a series of unanswered jabs, followed by a shallow right cross. Intentionally, I allowed my elbow to swing wild and come in contact with is chin. He wasn’t the type of fighter to complain about an illegal elbow. As long as the referee didn’t see it, I’d be just fine…

That’s right Tick-Tock, I decided to fight your big ass.

“You got it, kid. That’s what I’m talking about. Take it to him,” Kelsey screamed.

I’m doing my best, boss.

Brock responded with a thundering left which caught my right bicep. Immediately he grunted and threw a right uppercut – a fraction of an inch short of my chin. As the punch glanced past my nose, I switched my stance and threw a right hook to his midsection.

I like ribs, big boy. Did I get me one?

His face contorted as his body absorbed the punch.

The crowd began to cheer again.

Shame.

On.

Shame.

On.

Kace must have started that cheer. She knows how it fuels me.

I love that damned woman.

I thought of the day she walked into Ripp’s back yard, her face covered with dried blood and her teeth broken. Her broken smile and squashed pride made my stomach churn.

As Brock brought a combination to my body, I closed my arms in tight and waited. As soon as I heard the grunt, I twisted right and threw a hard left to his jaw.

Boom!

The punch landed hard on his jaw, sending him into a back-peddling series of steps as he attempted to catch his balance.

Oh shit, this guy’s never been hit. He knows how to fight, but he doesn’t know how to take a punch. He’s got a glass jaw.

Time seemed to stand still. I wished I could turn toward Kelsey and give him the thumbs up. I felt with these two revelations – the grunting, and his inability to take a power punch, I could actually win this fight.

I moved in and hammered him with a combination I never knew I had in me. Fifteen or twenty unanswered punches while I was in close, none of which were really threatening.

But.

He would remember them later.

I felt Kelsey beating his hand on the mat.

I hear you, old man.

We’re down to seconds, big boy. Let me close the round…

With this.

I swung a left hook to his ribs, followed by a hopeful right uppercut. As the left made contact, his head tilted forward as his body absorbed the punch. The right, thrown a little short, glanced off the tip of his forehead, but made good contact.

Stunned, he stumbled into the ropes.

I’m going to beat your big ass senseless. Come here, you big prick.

I took one step in his direction.

Ding!

Fuck! I was just beginning to enjoy this.

SHANE.
“God damned right. You took it to him in the second half of the round. Now give me three more minutes of whoever fought in
that
round, kid,” Kelsey growled.

I nodded my head, eager to get back in the ring and fight.

“I haven’t got much to offer, kid. I can’t tell you how to box this big bastard; I can only say I’m placing all my trust in you. You know kid, this is my dream.
To make it to
the show
. And we’re here. You and I, kid. We’re here.”

“Listen up,” Kelsey grunted.

I turned my head and looked in his direction.

“Take a quick look at your girl,” he said, motioning toward where Kace was seated.

I hadn’t so much as glanced in Kace’s direction since walking down the aisle and into the ring. My focus was elsewhere. I turned and looked in the location Kelsey pointed.

Holy shit.

The entire row of ring-side seats was full of my friends. Additionally, A-Trains friends from Kansas who had come in support of Ripp’s trial were here. I had no idea they were going to come. As I stared their direction, Kace screamed and swung her hand like an excited little girl as she held Casey’s arm in the air, waving it as well.

“We love you, baby!” she screamed.

Full of a newfound pride, I turned toward Kelsey.

“Now there’s not a first and second place here tonight, kid. There never is. There’s the champion, and
the other guy
. No one, you included, can tell me the long list of losers over the years who have attempted unsuccessfully to win the title. They only remember the champion. If we go home with a loss, the world will forget you even exist in a matter of minutes.”

“But,” he paused and placed his hands on either side of my face, turning it toward Kace and Casey.

“If you beat this son-of-an-Alabama-bitch tonight, you’ll forever be the fucking champion in the eyes of
that
little man. Give me
three more minutes of mean
, and in this round do it for the kid, kid.”

He released my head. I turned to face the ring and considered what he had said. He was right, no one remembers the losers. But. The names of the great fighters who have succeeded at winning the championship still linger in the air decades after the fights are over.

Mohammad Ali, Joe Frazier, Sonny Liston, Lennox Lewis. All decades prior, had won the championship at some point in time. And, I had no idea who their challengers were.

Kelsey moved his head beside mine and breathed into my face, “It’s no secret you aren’t proud of who your father was, kid. But in the next three minutes, make your little boy proud of you.”

“For a lifetime,” Kelsey growled.

Ding!