Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)(2)

It wasn’t until my mother overdosed on heroin a few years earlier that my father entered the picture, allowing me to breathe easy for the first time in my young life. He had money. A nice house. A warm bed. A stocked fridge. And, because he was the owner of Guardian Protection Agency, our security system was unrivaled. We were always surrounded by his men. They were part of my family too—and the reason I knew how to defend myself in the first place. Insecurity and fear should have been a thing of the past for me. But experiences like mine didn’t leave a person easily, no matter how old they were. So, when those two boys snatched my iPad and began throwing rocks at me as I scrambled to get it back, I lost my mind.

And then they lost their pride at the hands of a nine-year-old girl.

“Take it back!” I screamed again as he painfully banged me against the brick wall.

My grip faltered, which allowed him enough time to flip my small body over his shoulder and fling me to the hard ground. At the last second, I caught him and dragged him down with me.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” the boy heaved as I attempted to regain my hold on his neck.

It was worthless. While I’d caught him off guard the first time, he was way bigger than I was and used that to his advantage. His body quickly covered mine as I fought underneath him.

“Get your hands off me, butt face!” I shouted.

Suddenly, he was gone, and I don’t mean he let me go. I mean, one second, he was on top of me and, the next, he was flying away from me as if I had finally been able to harness The Force.

“Who the hell are you?” the boy, still cupping his balls, shouted.

Before I even had a chance to see who the question was aimed at, a pair of unforgettable hazel eyes leaned over me.

“Are you okay?”

I was nine. Boys were disgusting. They were even worse than snips and snails and puppy-dog tails.

But not this one.

This one was beautiful, and my normal sass evaded me as my mouth dried out.

I stared up at him from the ground for entirely too long.

With a wicked dimple denting his cheek, he tilted his head in question, causing his straight, black hair to hang in his eyes. “Did you swallow your tongue? I just heard you screaming, so I know you can talk. Are you okay?”

I nodded, still unable to find my voice. After pushing myself off the ground, I dusted dirt off the back of my purple dress, which I’d paired with adorable, sparkly leggings.

“You bitch!” the punk I’d almost killed yelled, rubbing his neck.

The hazel eyes I couldn’t stop staring at never left mine, even as his jaw twitched from the boy’s curse.

“Are you a bitch?” he asked calmly.

I shook my head and the most spectacular lopsided grin formed on his lips.

“I didn’t think so.” Spinning, he grabbed the boy’s throat and swept his leg out from under him. Hazel Eyes crashed to the ground, pinning him. “What the f*ck did you call her, dickhead?” He mercilessly grabbed his throat as the boy fought under his grip.

I wasn’t sure how old my hero was, but I figured he had to have been at least fourteen. He was a giant compared to both of the wusses who had been picking on me.

Blue Balls made a tight circle around them, unsure whether to jump in and help his pal or not.

I made his decision for him when I shook my head and leveled him with a pointed glare.

His eyes nervously flashed between his friend and me. “She attacked us!” he yelled, slowly backing toward the door.

“I did not! You threw a rock at me first.”

“You kicked me in the balls!” he returned.

“Yep. Want another go?” I took a giant step toward him.

“Judging by the fact that you’re scared of a girl half your size, I’m not sure you had any balls to begin with,” my nameless hero sniped.

I smiled proudly, turning to him. My stomach fluttered when my gaze met his. His murderous expression softened as he blinked at me with thick, black lashes.

We both awkwardly looked away.

“Apologize,” he growled at the boy still pinned to the ground.

Hazel Eyes released his neck long enough for the boy to cough a, “Sorry,” in my direction.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Make him apologize for calling me a girl, too.”

He swung his head to face me. “Um. You are a girl,” he stated incredulously.

I let out a frustrated huff and looked away to cover the heat that rushed to my cheeks.

I was completely okay with being a girl in his eyes. Those two idiots though? No way.

“Just do it!” I ordered.

Shrugging, he shook his head and then barked, “Fucking apologize.”

“This is bull crap. I’m telling Slate,” the boy said.

“Telling him what? That you got your ass handed to you by a”—his gaze flicked to mine—“girl you were throwing rocks at? Let me know how that works out for you.”

“No, I’m telling on you. There’s no fighting allowed outside the ring. He’ll kick you out of the youth program if he finds out you put your hands on me.”

I swear I saw the proverbial light bulb flash on above my hero’s head.

“Well, seeing as this is my first day and I don’t want to be here anyway, that would be awesome.” He moved to the back door of the gym before yanking it open. “My name’s Quarry Page. Make sure you add that so there’s no confusion.”