Leave a Trail (Signal Bend #7)(100)
“You’re not. You couldn’t. But she’s not with me, and I lost everything she was a part of. I feel like I need one, you know? I don’t think I could call you anything but Shannon—that’s just how I know you.
But…I’d like it if…if it’s okay.”
Shannon’s eyes sparkled. “Yes. It’s wonderful. But, honey, I can’t tell you club business, even so. It disrespects Badge. Do you understand?”
She did. She understood. As curious as she was, in a way it made her love this family even more.
But she and Badger were going to need to talk.
oOo
The Horde had been locked in the Keep for about thirty minutes when the doors slammed open and Isaac stalked out, pulling his kutte and shirt off as he stormed down the side hallway. Show followed right after him, doing the same thing, his face turbulent with anger.
“Oh, Lord. Oh, no. Here—take Joey, would you?”
She did, and her sleeping baby brother stirred and resettled in her arms. “What’s going on? Can I ask that?”
“If you’d like to see how these men settle their disagreements, follow me.” Shannon stood, and Adrienne followed. Everybody was going down the side hallway. They turned at the end and went into a room through two double doors and some plastic strip sheeting.
There was a boxing ring in the room. Isaac and Show had both stripped bare to the waist and were taking off their boots and socks.
“They’re going to fight?”
Shannon rolled her eyes. Badger came up to them then, and he put his hand on Adrienne’s lower back, a possessive gesture she loved a lot. “You sure you want to see this, babe? It gets pretty rough.”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Alright. I have to go over there. If you need to leave, do. It’s okay.” He kissed her cheek and trotted over to the ring.
Isaac threw his rings to the floor. Show did the same and dropped his beanie, too, staring back at Isaac.
And then they both climbed into the ring. Len called Isaac to one corner; Badger called Show to the opposite. Len and Isaac were talking with evident heat; then Len swung himself into the ring and went to the center, his eyes on Show. “No rounds. Fight to knockout or tap out.” Show stared and then nodded curtly. Len went back to Isaac’s corner.
Shannon sighed. “God. They must be really pissed.”
“What does that all mean?”
“They’re going to fight until one of them can’t anymore. Basically, they’re about to beat the crap out of each other.”
“Without gloves or anything? But they’re old! And Isaac’s all bruised already.” He was—he had several large, dark bruises on his belly and ribs.
“Yes. They’re being testosterone-addled idiots. But there’s no one here who could tell them that and make them hear it.” She looked around. “Kellen—where’s Lilli?”
“In Isaac’s office. I told her, but I don’t think she’s coming out.”
Shannon nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
A bell sounded, and Isaac and Show met each other in the middle of the ring.
They were impressive specimens of maleness, really. As much as she loved Badger’s lean muscularity, there was something dazzling about the two giant men in the ring now. Adrienne knew what it was like to be hugged by Show, entirely surrounded and sheltered by his huge body. Isaac was even bigger. And they were both massed with sculpted muscle—Show’s chest hairless except for a line up his rock-hard belly, Isaac’s covered lightly with dark hair that narrowed to a similar trail. Isaac had the full complement of ridges over his torso—six-pack, scallops on his sides, everything. Muscles rippled over Show’s torso, too, though his body was a bit meatier and thus his contours were fewer. Their arms bulged enormously. As they moved—dancing around each other, throwing punches, dodging and connecting—their muscles flexed and rolled. The sweat of their exertions began to make them glisten, and then they looked almost unreal.
Adrienne realized she was standing there with her mouth open. It was probably deeply weird to be staring in such amazement at two men old enough to be her father, especially when one of them basically was, but they were amazing.
They weren’t all beautiful, though. Show’s back, as she’d known, was a shock of scars. And Isaac’s, too. While Show’s looked almost intentionally organized into a crude pattern, though, Isaac’s were more random—uneven blotches of dark, raised skin, and pale, straight lines that were obviously left from surgeries. They had scars on their fronts and their arms, and their faces, too. Kind of everywhere. And lots of ink.
Once Adrienne had processed the magnificence of their bodies, she understood how serious the fight really was—those rolling, flexing muscles were impelling fists forward and doing real damage. There was blood on the mat. The crunching sound of fist meeting unyielding flesh and the animal echo of their grunts were louder than she’d realized.
“Are they really trying to hurt each other? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t, either.” Shannon’s answer was tight with worry. “This is bad. I wish Len would stop it.”
But Len didn’t. Nobody did. Show got Isaac on the ropes twice. Isaac brought Show to his knees once.
But they kept fighting. After several minutes, they were leaving huge, bloody footprints and smears on the mat; they’d stepped through the widening spatters of blood. The air was growing dense with the smell of sweat, blood, and testosterone. But they kept going.