Crushed

  “I was looking online and it’s got your name written all over it,” he simply says, the playful quirk of his lips never leaving his face.

  I don’t care where we go as long as we’re together. He could take me to a motel on the other side of town and I’d be happy. Jackson places a covered hand over mine.

  “Okay. Tahiti it is.” I smile at him. “Now, will you win this fight for me? Because I’m in serious need of a shower.”

  “Anything you want.” With a quick stroke of my fingers, he straightens his posture and returns to his position on the mat.

  Jackson bounces on the balls of his feet, his stare never straying from his opponent, and the cage shudders and shakes under his weight. The dirty, white fabric he’s covered his hands in is tight, squeezing his fingers as he flexes them at his sides.

  The crowd is a constant noise in the background, the same lot of people cheering for him to win, cheering for him to fail. You’d think after they said it the first time, they’d give up, but no. They scream in my ears until their voices crack and fail, and even that doesn’t stop them. I used to relish in this kind of thing, this kind of crowd, but not anymore. Back then, I never understood why Olivia had such an issue with the fighting, she could barely stomach it. It wasn’t until it was Jackson standing inside the metal cage that I understood the unease. I can’t help it. My body absorbs each and every shout for him. Every negative comment fills me with anger and a need to defend the person I love. I used to enjoy watching Seth deal out his punishment and then take it on the chin, but it’s different with Jackson. Every punch that hits him, hits me too. I feel my stomach twist and churn as it fills with anxiety and threatens to explode. If he wins, his happiness means I win, but if he loses, well, it’ll hurt me too.

  A man dressed head to toe in black, the referee I assume, enters the cage and Jackson puts his mouthguard in. My lips part as a shaky breath blows through and I press a hand to my abdomen as cramps assault my uterus. When this is over, I’m going to need a strong drink, some painkillers, and a heat pack.

  The referee chats to both Jackson and Connor before slapping his hands together, signaling the start of the fight. The men move together and I’m jolted forward, my hips hitting a thin bar.

  “Fuck,” Olivia curses, turning to shout in my ear. “It’s insane in here.”

  Jackson and Connor move to the center of the canvas, their feet going back and forth, their arms becoming animated as they test the water, wondering who will take the first shot to kick this thing off. My heart leaps into my throat and I grip the railing in front of me as Connor strikes first. Jackson evades it and Connor throws another, the thick ropes of muscle in his arms tightening. I can see the glint in Jackson’s eyes as he gauges each and every one of Connor’s attacks. Dodging the third fist, Jackson dips low and slams his fist into Connor’s ribs. I gasp as everything in proximity of the impact ripples like a stone thrown into a river. Connor brings his arms down, leaving his head exposed. Jackson straightens his posture and drives his heavy fists into Connor’s face. In defense, he takes a couple of quick steps back, but Jackson follows, quick on his legs, despite his apparent thigh injury. The crowd roars in approval—in disapproval too—sending a surge of electricity through my veins.

  I move my hands from the thin railing in front of me, to the cage. The threats of contracting tetanus or hepatitis are no longer at the forefront of my mind as the cage shudders and the canvas creaks with every movement. I just want him to win so we can go.

  I’ve seen Jackson train more times than I can count. When training, he has this air of indifference about him. He doesn’t care about technique or time, but tonight, he’s taking it all very seriously. Blocking an incoming punch to his chin, Connor kicks Jackson in the thigh and I hear him hiss as he takes a few rapid steps back, giving Connor space to take a breather.

  “I told him about wearing that damn bandage!” Darryl snaps, turning to Seth. “Didn’t I tell him about that damn bandage?”

  “It’s all right,” Seth responds, squeezing beside Olivia to get closer to the cage. “He’s aware of it now. He won’t let it happen again.”

  Connor comes in quick, his wide chest heaving at the same pace as Jackson’s. He throws his arms with controlled precision and all Jackson can do is defend against it. I see his jaw clench tightly as he keeps his face down, desperate not to get clipped by Connor’s monstrous fists.

  “Jackson!” Seth booms, slamming a large hand against the cage. “Do not get caught by those hands! Get out of there!”

  I chew the tips of my fingernails and taste rusted metal. I don’t like the sound of Seth’s voice. It sounds as if Jackson will lose if he doesn’t get back on the offensive.

  “Keep him on his side of the canvas! Get off the back foot!”

  Beside me, Olivia threads her fingers with mine and squeezes tightly. I turn to look at her and she can’t keep her eyes off the scene unfolding in front of us. In the split-second I look at Olivia, the fight has turned once again, the roar of the crowd alerting me. I turn my attention to Jackson, who has Connor on his back. I inch forward, pressing myself into the railing until it hurts. Jackson pins Connor down, his thighs straddling his slim hips. Connor is desperate to protect his face from Jackson, but Jackson manages to break through, hitting Connor until his dirty, white fabric wraps are stained red. Tiny dots of blood paint both their chests as something on Connor’s face opens up.

  Seth and Darryl mimic the rest of the crowd, their faces turning red as they scream at Jackson to keep going. Connor’s hands fall away, his body becoming stiff. I cringe. Veins in Jackson’s arms become visible as he clenches with all his might. My gut revolts and I turn my head away from the fight. Across the floor and up on a small ledge, Amelia’s red hair catches my attention as it shines in the bright light of the spotlight beside her. She watches on in horror—much to my surprise, since I thought she wanted Jackson to win.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The sound of flesh smashing into flesh reverberates around my head, but I keep my attention on her and the way she holds herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach as her “husband” texts on his phone. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s almost as if she’s not enjoying the fact Jackson is winning.

  “Enough!” I hear the referee shout and I finally pull my stare toward the action.

  Jackson spits out his mouthguard on the canvas and launches himself to his feet. He shoots his arms up with a roar of victory and the crowd goes wild. My heart swells in my chest. I can’t believe he did it. Olivia jumps up and down beside me, her excited grip crushing my hand. I barely have time to take in the scene before I’m whisked through the crowd by Darryl and Seth and we end up back in Jackson’s room.

  The ruckus outside can be heard through the thin walls and I scratch at the back of my head, aware of the headache brewing. We wait for all of twenty minutes before the door opens and Jackson rushes in. He spots Seth and Olivia relaxing against the far wall, making gentle conversation with Darryl about Connor Cage’s pathetic performance.

  “You’re still here?” Jackson asks them, panting as he shuts the door behind him. “I’d get out before the police come.”

  “Good idea.” Seth pushes off the wall and dusts off his red shirt.

  “We have to pick Chloe up early in the morning, so we should get some rest,” Olivia adds, slipping her hand into Seth’s as Darryl lifts himself off the stool.

  “I rode with Seth, so I guess I’ll go back with them too.”

  I watch from my spot by the table in the middle of the room as Seth, Olivia, and Darryl offer Jackson handshakes and pats on the back before exiting into the fray outside.

  Gone are the days we used to party after a fight. I think we’re all too old for that now. The thought of having a hot shower and climbing into a comfortable bed is infinitely more appealing.

  I smile at a blood-splattered Jackson as he stands six feet from me, his wrapped hands planted firmly on his hips.
br />   “I won,” he simply says and my smile widens.

  I push off the table and rush forward, throwing my arms around his neck and jumping into his arms the second I enter his personal space. His sweat clings to me, so does blood that belongs to another man, but I don’t care. I kiss him deeply, deeper than I think I’ve ever kissed him.

  “Let’s go home,” he utters against my mouth. “We’ll stay in bed for a few days, until the money is transferred, and then we plan the rest of our lives.”

  I nod, sliding my forehead against his as I touch his face. Jackson lowers me to my feet and rushes across the room to his large, black sports bag on the other side. I can barely stand still as he stuffs all of his things inside, including two heavy training pads. From the bag’s depths, he retrieves a black hoodie and shrugs into it. He barely drags the zipper up when the door opens again. I glance over my shoulder at the man that enters the room.

  Connor Cage.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jackson

  He’s almost unrecognizable with his bloodied, swollen face and his monstrous frame hidden behind a baggy hoodie. As he saunters into the room, I become hyper aware of the distance between Selena and I. She’s closer to him than she is to me. Sensing the distance, Selena takes a few small steps backward as he pulls his shoulders back and slams the door behind him.

  I drop my bag at my feet. “Selena, come here.”

  She does as she’s told, and my nerves become less frazzled as she slowly closes the distance between us. Normally, I wouldn’t care so much, but Connor does not look friendly. Not at all.

  “Relax,” he groans out, limping further into the room. “I just need some topical for the bleeding, if you have it.”

  I do have it. In fact, Darryl doesn’t leave the house without it. Question is, why should I help him? I’m the one who did this to him, after all. I frown and open my mouth to tell him to get the fuck out, but Selena glances up at me, her glossy eyes wide with concern.

  “Jackson…” she mutters, tilting her head on an angle, like she did that time we saw a puppy in a cage at the pet store. “He needs help.”

  Fine. Exhaling, I bend low and unzip my bag. I dig around for a minute before finding the small box Darryl packed at the bottom. He’ll find everything he needs to stop the bleeding in here.

  “I guess you need it more than me,” I say, tossing the box at him.

  He catches it with a sharp hiss and one hand. When he has it, I expect him to leave. Instead, he props himself up on the table in the middle of the room and pops open the latch on the box. He stares inside the box for a minute or so before turning his swollen face back to us. Jesus. The look of it makes me want to throw up.

  “I can’t see,” he grumbles.

  I shrug. “That’s a shame.”

  He flicks his head to Selena. “Do you mind if she does it?”

  Over my dead body. She steps forward and I snatch her wrist, keeping her in place. I don’t trust it. I don’t trust him.

  “Not gonna hurt her.”

  “I just cost you a lot of money,” I tell him. “You’re stupid if you think I’m gonna let—”

  “You didn’t cost me a thing.” He clenches his ribs in one hand as he plucks out a cotton swab and a small vial with the other. “It was never in the cards for me to win. I wasn’t gonna get paid, even if I did.”

  In my grasp, I feel Selena’s tiny wrist move as she watches Connor struggle.

  “I had to lose,” he adds. “That was part of the deal.”

  “Bullshit,” I snap. “You didn’t throw the fight. I won fair and square.”

  “Please.” He spits blood onto the dirty floor. “I’ve fought dudes twice the size of you and won.”

  “Size doesn’t matter.”

  Connor smirks at Selena, or at least I think he does. It’s hard to tell when he looks like a lumpy mushroom. “You poor girl.”

  She sneers at him and the door flies open, slamming into the wall.

  “There you are!” Amelia hisses as she storms into the room, her heels clicking against the concrete while the door slams closed behind her. Her wild red hair whips around her face and her black eyes zero in on Connor—not me for a change.

  “You need to get out of here,” she snaps, stopping in front of him. “I paid the cops to be busy with other things only for so long.”

  He looks at her in silence…in a way that makes me feel like we should give them some privacy.

  “Does it make you feel good? To see me like this?” he asks her, his voice filled with a familiarity.

  Selena gapes up at me and mouths, “what the fuck?” and I shrug. How the hell am I supposed to know what’s going on? I’m just as confused as she is.

  Amelia hisses and snatches the cotton swab and vial of adrenaline from Connor’s hand. Pulling open the metal layer and popping the rubber stopper, she dips the swab in and presses it to Connor’s eyebrow.

  “Of course, it doesn’t, but this was the only way Cedric would spare your life,” she says, trying to lower her tone so we can’t hear.

  Little does she know that this room echoes, and she might as well be talking directly to our faces.

  “By humiliating me?” he growls. “That’s not going to stop me from going after the thing I want most.”

  “This wasn’t to humiliate you,” Amelia snaps, tossing a bloody cotton swab over her shoulder and grabbing another. “I told you, Connor. I told you to stay away and you didn’t. When Cedric found out about us, I had to prove to him you meant nothing to me. These were his terms, not mine.”

  “We could have ran.”

  She laughs, but it’s a laugh that breaks with a choked sob in the center. I flinch at the sound of so much emotion in her voice. I’ve never heard it. I’ve always known her tones to be callous and cold.

  “I can’t run.” She presses a swab to his nose and he flinches. “Not yet.”

  Selena and I stand still, stunned at whatever the hell we’re witnessing. I try to wrap my head around it. So, Amelia is married to Cedric? But is also romantically tied to Connor? They were found out and this is Cedric’s revenge? Great, but where do I come in? Why am I involved in this?

  “Why me?” I ask, startling Selena beside me.

  Amelia straightens her spine and glances over her shoulder. A thin line of mascara trails down her cheek and it’s haunting. “Hm?”

  “Why choose me to crush your little boyfriend?” I ask. “You could have chosen anyone.”

  “Because I knew you needed the money. I wanted to help you…after everything I’ve done.”

  Connor peers around Amelia’s small frame. “You two know each other?”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t be so surprised. She knows everyone.”

  Amelia glares at me. “I told Cedric I knew of someone who wasted his talents fighting in shitty, secluded bars when life didn’t go his way. I convinced him you were the man for the job. I left out the part that you and I used to fuck each other’s brains out. You’re welcome for that.”

  Jesus Christ. I bend low and pick up my bag. She’s not getting a thank you, if that’s what she wants.

  “How’d you two meet?” Selena asks, but I’m not staying around for the story.

  I tug Selena along behind me as I make my way to the door.

  “It was just after I lost my professional contract. I was in a bad place. She helped me.”

  I snort. “Yeah, she’s a real fucking saint.”

  “You don’t know a damn thing about her.”

  I whip around to face him. “I know everything about her. You think you were in a bad place then? Look at you. You’re in a worse place now.”

  “It looks pretty bad, but my demise will keep Cedric off our backs.”

  I can’t believe he’s actually rationalizing this. How did Amelia convince him to do it, anyway? How did she convince him to throw a fight in front of so many people for nothing in return?

  “You’re sleeping with his wife,” I point out, nudging Sele
na in front of me so she can open the door. “If it were me, you’d be dead.”

  Selena opens the door and I gently ease her out of the room and into the hall. I tuck her under my arm and escort her toward an exit. I don’t care about their bullshit. I don’t want to hear their origin story or how madly in love with her he is. I’m done with all things Amelia Petrovic. For good.

  “That was…interesting.”

  I scoff under my breath. “To say the least.”

  “Do you think she really cares about him?”

  “Probably not.” I pull my bag higher on my shoulder and squeeze the strap in my wrapped hands.

  I don’t know what just happened and I don’t care. All I want is to go home, shower, and rest. I’ll deal with everything else tomorrow morning.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Selena

  Six months later

  The ocean water laps at my thighs and inches toward my hips as the tide comes in. Despite the sun that sank under the horizon a little over an hour ago, I still feel warm and it’s not just me that has managed to retain the heat from the sun. The water that encompasses parts of my body is warm, and Jackson’s hand as he trails it between my breasts and down the surface of my flat stomach is warm. Everything about this beautiful, tropical island is warm.

  Sighing, I push my sunglasses on top of my head and roll my body toward Jackson.

  Flames from the large bamboo torches that light the beach cast a beautiful glow over our surroundings. The water, more black than crystal blue in this light, gently rolls its way into shore, barely felt as it caresses my sides.

  Jackson smiles at me, propping his head on his hand as he continues to rub my torso. “Best sunset yet?”

  “It’s definitely up there with the best.”