Invincible(2)

I didn’t know why but I had the urge to check on the sexy fighter. I had to get him to turn around. I had to see his face. I had to see his wet hair in his face. I don’t know, I kind of wanted to see him cry. To see a tall, muscular cut fighter stand there and cry. It was sexy as hell.

I grabbed the doorway and skidded to a stop, ready to demand the guy turn around. If he refused, I’d grab him by the arm and pull him.

Except he was gone.

The only memory in my mind was a small spot of blood on the wall where he had been pressing his fists.

It was for the best.

I had one rule I always followed. Never - ever - get involved with a fighter.





2.


(Wes)



On his knees, putting a hand up. Asking for a second. Just one f*cking second, man. Yet nobody did anything. There was no second to give in this world. It wasn’t scripted. It wasn’t sanctioned. He should have done something, anything, but he didn’t. He put his f*cking hand out. Weak. Then the punch sent him back, his head cracking off the ground. That was the end of the fight. Goddammit, that was the f*cking end. Only it wasn’t… the end of the fight, sure, but it was the beginning of death…

I shut my eyes and rubbed my temples. I couldn't get it out of my head. I was supposed to be dead drunk right now. I was supposed to get into a bar fight and win. I was supposed to take some woman home, demand she strip naked, then get behind her and let the rest of my anger out.

That’s how it all went. Year after f*cking year.

Except this year.

I never fought on the date my brother was killed. It was just my thing. I made sure I disappeared or had a good excuse. Or I’d just wake up and get piss drunk by nine in the morning, so if someone called me to fight, I couldn’t do it. Nobody would throw money on me winning if I was drunk.

Coincidentally, the year I thought about trying to be normal was the year Danny told me I was set to fight. He showed up, put a gun to my chest, and told me to stay sober. That I needed to win the fight. If I didn’t, Aton was going to put a bullet up my ass. Danny was nothing but a tall lunk. Thick with muscle, nothing with brains, he was solely a piece of muscle for Aton. And if Aton made the call on a fight, you better get your ass ready to fight.

Standing in the back of the building, I tried to find Aton.

He was a ghost sometimes and I f*cking hated it. Then again, maybe it was better. He was connected to a family that controlled more than my mind cared to think about. And all it took was one bullet to the head to end your life and nobody would care. Nobody would even know. Especially me. I tried to keep a low profile. I fought, earned, trained, ate, f*cked, and slept.

But to fight on the night of Shane’s death…

I stood at the wall, readying myself. I had to fight without thinking about Shane. Without seeing him hitting the ground. Seeing the fists hitting him, over and over. The crowd cheering louder and louder. Then foot stomps…

I sensed someone behind me the entire time I stood there. It was a woman. Of course it was a woman. What the f*ck did she want? Try to f*ck around before a fight?

After I told her go away - and she did - I walked away.

My emotions were destroying me from the inside out.

At the end of the hall, I saw Danny standing there with an arm around a woman, a drink in his hand.

“Start the fight,” I said.

“Hey! Who the f*ck…”

I threw a punch and hit the glass out of his hand. “Start the f*cking fight. I’m not waiting. I’ll walk out.”

“I’ll put a bullet in the back of your head,” Danny warned.

I turned and grabbed my hair. “Do it.”

A second later a guy came walking from the opposite direction. He was my height, same build, short spiky hair. He had an eagle tattooed on his chest that went up to his neck. He showed me his teeth as he walked by, flexing his pecs and arms.

I’m going to f*cking kill you.

That’s when I went into fight mode. Complete and total fight mode. That meant everything became a blur and sound was reduced to a mumble. I thought about my body moving. My muscles working. My fists striking.

“Get out there,” Danny said. “Go f*cking earn.”

The crowd was cheering as the other guy got out to the circle. I charged out right after him, walking up to his back, slamming my chest against him. That got a nice rise out of the crowd. The guy spun and came at me. Our chests touched. Our noses touched.

The building looked ready to explode.

“Let’s get this going!” a voice yelled.

It was Danny. He came lumbering out to the circle.

“I don’t think I have much time here,” Danny said. “They look ready to go.”

The crowd kept cheering.

“We’ve got the tattooed madman,” Danny said. “A man so dark he has a tattoo on his heart.”

The crowd oooh’ed.

The guy bounced from my chest and then tapped his chest, playing into the tattoo heart thing.

I just stared ahead, my hair in my face, wanting to finish this fast so I could get drunk. I felt like Shane was standing next to me, like he had done so many times. Telling me where to have my feet, how to hold my body, how to throw a punch. How to read the opponent without giving anything away.

“He’s evil,” Danny said. “Dark enough that hell refused him so he keeps coming back for more. Give it up for the freebird himself, Johnny!”