Bastian's Storm

  A couple of hard lefts to the face and a quick kick to the side made college-boy drop to his knees. Orange-trunks jumped on his back and immediately began slamming the kid’s head against the mat. Stunned, the poor guy could barely smack his hand against the other dude’s shoulder to tap out.

  The winner began to jump around the cage, smacking his hands on the chain-link and yelling at the audience. I watched him closely—the way he moved, where his eyes went, and how his feet touched the floor—while college-boy was handed over to his buddies and another dude walked into the cage and looked out at the patrons.

  “Who’s next?” he shouted.

  I had to bite down on my lip to keep from volunteering.

  There was no fucking way Raine would approve of any of this shit. She wouldn’t like it, not at all. She wouldn’t like the idea of me fighting, getting hit, or hitting another guy. It was entirely possible she would give me shit just for walking into the damn bar, and she would probably be right, but knowing how Raine would react to the whole situation wasn’t what made me stop.

  I was going to do this shit—no doubt. I just wanted to see the dude fight again before I made myself known.

  My interest was piqued. At least for now, I was going to watch.

  The announcer called the dude in the orange shorts “Brutal Brutus,” which I thought sounded absolutely ridiculous, but it did seem to fit. He didn’t waste any time going after the next guy who walked into the cage with him. This one was a little older than college-boy, who was nursing a bloody and probably broken nose over by the bar. The new opponent was a muscular guy with biceps about as big as mine, but he also sported a lot of gut and very little hair.

  Brutal Brutus wasn’t impressed with Muscles. He avoided the guy’s lame attempts at a left hook with ease. As big as he was, Muscles obviously didn’t have much fighting experience, and he went down quickly. The short fight still gave me enough opportunity to observe Brutus’s fighting style.

  He favored his right way too much, and it left him unbalanced. He also stuck to very basic patterns that left little to the imagination. Right-right-left, right-right-left. He was predictable, which made him vulnerable.

  “Does anyone else dare to face Brutal Brutus?” The MC-slash-announcer walked around the ring, pointing his finger at the audience. “There’s a hundred dollars to anyone who can stay up for three minutes, five hundred if you can take him down!”

  I didn’t give a shit about the money, but I approached the edge of the ring and caught the MC’s eye.

  “Looks like we have a challenge!” he announced, and the crowd began to cheer.

  One of the bouncers led me back to a small room that served as a locker room but looked like it was supposed to be a large custodial closet. The smell was nearly enough to make me gag, but I breathed through my mouth and went inside. The bouncer dude pointed out a shelf with a few pairs of shorts on it, and I grabbed blue ones. He politely stood facing the door and away from me as I removed my shirt, dropped my jeans, and pulled on the trunks.

  “Ya ready?” he asked.

  “Just about,” I said. I rolled each shoulder around, stretched my arms and chest a bit, and then nodded to him.

  The bouncer brought me back out to the edge of the cage and opened the chain door. As I stepped into it, the MC leaned toward me.

  “What are ya?” he asked. “Six-three? Six-four?”

  “Six-three,” I replied.

  “Weight?”

  “About two-twenty.”

  “What’s your name?”

  I paused for a moment.

  “Daniel,” I said.

  “Got it!” The announcer cracked his knuckles as he looked me over a bit more.

  “Here we go again, everyone!” he called out. “Next into the cage is Dangerous Daniel!”

  I rolled my eyes. The chick in the referee bikini took my hand by the wrist and held it over her head as the MC went over my stats.

  “He’s six feet three inches tall, and weighs in at two hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle! Ladies, keep your eyes on this one!”

  I glanced out over the audience and listened to the hollering coming from the women in the bar. A warm tingle went up my spine as the familiarity of the situation relaxed me and I focused my attention on what was to come.

  Looking over at Brutus, I gripped my hands into fists and took a deep breath as the chick referee pushed a mouthguard between my teeth.

  This was where I belonged.

  Brutus walked up, danced on the balls of his feet, and waited patiently for me to make the first move. Knowing he would start with his right, I moved into his space to give him what would appear to be a clear shot. The slight grin on his face told me he had fallen for it before he took his first swing.

  I dodged to the right, ducking and slamming my fist into his kidney as I went past him. He grabbed at his side for a second but recovered quickly and came at me again, his eyes narrowed. He swung again, missed again, and lost his footing briefly.

  When he regained his composure, he took a step back and watched me carefully. He had realized I wasn’t going down easily and was going to take his time now. Assuming he thought I would go with another ploy, I went straight at him, diving against his body and punching him rapidly in the gut and side.

  He returned the favor though his blows weren’t very hard from that angle. His arm twisted around mine, and he brought his free hand up high before slamming it into my temple.

  The blow sent me down and backward, but I didn’t fall. In fact, it just pissed me off. I leapt forward, diving at his body and sending us both to the ground. We rolled, both of us punching at each other’s sides until we hit the edge of the cage. My head bounced against the chain link, and Brutus pushed away from me, standing again.

  I followed suit, jumped up, and readied myself. I watched him closely as he danced from left to right, then came at me with his predictable pattern. I dodged right, turned swiftly, and locked one of my legs behind his. I grabbed his shoulder and pulled his back to my chest.

  With one leg wrapped around his torso, I threw him to the mat. I tightened my arm around his neck, wrapped my other arm around his head, and slammed his face into the ground twice. I pulled one arm back and elbowed him in the shoulder as hard as I could. He continued to struggle under me, trying to get his arms under him enough to push me off, but his efforts were wasted.

  I turned my head to the side and spit out the mouth guard.

  “You gonna tap out, or should I go ahead and kill you?” I snarled.

  I felt the pressure of his Adam’s apple under my forearm, but he couldn’t actually swallow as I flexed against his throat. His hand flew out, and he slammed it three times against the mat.

  I paused just a little longer than I needed to before tossing him to the ground. He lay there gasping as everyone in the bar started to cheer, and the post-violence high swept over me.

  I was elated. With wide eyes and what probably looked like a crazed smile, I looked over the crowd and felt my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel blood—hot and sticky—on my knuckles. The crowd continued to scream as the chick in the referee-styled bikini held my arm up as high as she could. She looked up at me with raised eyebrows.

  “Nice job,” she said with a smile and a wink. “I don’t think Brutus is going to forget that anytime soon.”

  “He better fucking not,” I replied, wriggling my eyebrows at her, “or I might have to come back and remind him.”

  She laughed. As she released my wrist, she ran her hand up to my shoulder and squeezed it a little before she wrapped her arm through mine.

  “All right, folks,” the announcer said as he waved his hands at the crowd, “that’s it for tonight! More fights next week! Don’t miss ‘em!”

  The bouncer who had taken me to the locker room knelt down next to Battered Brutus and hauled him out of the cage while the referee chick escorted me through the screaming patrons. They reached out to me, patted me on the back, and yelled o
ut various forms of congratulations as we made our way to the locker room so I could get dressed.

  When I came out, the ref was still there and still dressed in nothing but the skimpy bikini. She was all smiles as she took my arm again and led me over to the bar. She handed me an envelope full of cash, which I didn’t bother to count. The guy standing behind the bar with an empty beer glass in his hand reached out to give me a high-five.

  “Buy you a drink?” the referee asked. She leaned against the counter, which hiked up her boobs to put them more on display than they already had been, and motioned to the bartender.

  For a moment, I almost accepted her offer out of habit.

  “Nah, I’m good.” I shook my head and looked out at the people milling around. Most of them were looking at me with bright eyes, and many were leaning in to talk to their friends with hushed voices and nodding in my direction.

  “You sure?” Referee chick tilted her head and smiled up at me.

  “Yeah, pretty sure,” I gave her a half smile back.

  I should have picked up on her vibe right away, but I was still in the zone from the fight and I wasn’t thinking straight.

  “I’m Andi,” she informed me as she leaned forward again.

  “Daniel,” I said.

  “I heard that…Dangerous Daniel.” She giggled. “I think it suits you.”

  “Sometimes.” I smirked back at her.

  She pushed off the bar and took a step closer.

  “I like dangerous guys,” she said as she placed her hands on my chest. Her eyes followed the movements of her fingers as she took inventory of my pecs and shoulders through my shirt.

  “Doesn’t seem very smart,” I observed. I took a half step back, feeling a little uncomfortable. As my violence-induced haze began to fade, I realized she was coming on to me.

  It was a strange feeling. A chick hadn’t hit on me since Raine and I had returned from our little exile. When I’d been living on my ship, I’d usually been the instigator of any contact with the opposite sex. Still, as long ago as it had been, it felt familiar.

  Not just familiar, but right.

  This was what was supposed to happen after a fight. Fight, win, sex. That was the natural order. As if it were ingrained somewhere deep inside of me, my body began to react to the situation.

  I was instantly hard.

  Andi’s hands were running from my chest to my abs, and she was standing close enough for me to feel the heat from her body all around me. She reached around and placed her hands at the small of my back as she pressed her body against me. There was no doubt she could feel how affected I was—my dick was right up against her stomach.

  Then panic set in.

  What the fuck was I thinking? This wasn’t a normal tournament fight, and I wasn’t a single guy. I had Raine back at our condo, probably freaking out, wondering where the fuck I was, and my dick was reacting to some random chick in a bar.

  I grabbed her wrists and pushed them down.

  “Sorry,” I said with a shrug, “I really ought to go.”

  “It’s not that late,” Andi said. She twisted her wrists in my hands and looked up at me with a twinkle in her eye. “I don’t live too far from here.”

  “Maybe another time,” I said quietly. A lump in my throat formed, and I had to swallow hard to get past it. I took a step back and dropped her hands. “Thanks for the offer.”

  I turned and got the fuck out of there.

  Back at my bike, I sat down and tried to regain a little composure. I closed my eyes tightly and took a few calming breaths. My stomach was churning, and I felt like I was going to puke. I’d let that girl run her hands all over me, and I hadn’t even been thinking about Raine at all.

  You didn’t do anything wrong.

  No, I didn’t, but damn if my dick didn’t want to.

  I slammed my foot against the kickstand and started up the bike with a roar. It was nearly three in the morning, and I kept the motorcycle at the speed limit through the streets, down the highway, and back over to Miami Beach.

  I needed the time to think, but it didn’t help that much.

  I was still sweating as I headed up the stairs. I wanted to blame it on the humidity, but I knew that wasn’t it. I had no idea what I was going to walk into when I got up to the condo. Were Nick and Lindsay still going to be there? Would Raine be waiting up for me, pissed off and ready for a fight?

  A mental image of her sitting at the kitchen island smoking my cigarettes and drinking scotch came to mind. It was a ridiculous notion, but the vision wouldn’t go away as I quietly slid the key into the deadbolt and opened the door.

  The living area was empty. There was one dim light still on above the stove, but that was it. The whole place was quiet.

  Was she even here?

  I swallowed hard. My skin began to crawl at the thought that she might have left. I tiptoed to the bedroom, terrified of finding the room empty. The space beyond was dark, and the door was partially closed. I pushed it the rest of the way open.

  I could see Raine on the bed, lying down and breathing steadily, her shape clearly outlined by the light slipping through the blinds. A breath escaped from my lungs, and my shoulders dropped in relief. She didn’t move as I carefully and quietly slipped off my T-shirt and jeans and ditched them in a pile by the laundry hamper.

  Slipping into bed as silently as I could, I shoved my legs in under the sheet. Raine didn’t stir as I maneuvered myself behind her and snaked my arm around her waist. I relaxed against her, let out a long breath, and closed my eyes. For a moment, I thought I was home free.

  “You going to tell me where you’ve been?”

  Ah, shit.

  I opened my eyes though I couldn’t really see much in the dim light from the balcony door. My throat seized up on me, and it took me a second to find my voice. I tensed my fingers around the fabric of her shirt and gripped it tightly, like I was afraid she’d try to get away from me if I wasn’t holding on.

  “Just took the bike out for a ride,” I claimed. I swallowed a couple of times and licked my lips.

  “For seven hours?” Raine rolled over and looked into my eyes. Even in the dim light, I could still see the shine in her beautiful, red-rimmed brown eyes. She’d been crying, and I felt like a total asshole.

  I kept my grip on her shirt as if I could keep all of this from happening just by holding on tightly enough.

  “I just needed to…to get away for a bit.” I looked down her bare arm and dropped my head against her shoulder. I rubbed my forehead against her skin and felt myself relax further when she didn’t push me away. “Those people were driving me bat-shit.”

  “Those people,” Raine snarled, “are my friends!”

  Yeah, there I went again—making shit worse by opening my big fat mouth.

  “I didn’t mean it like that…I mean…ah, fuck it!” I started to push away from her, but my arm got wrapped up in the sheet and held me back. Maybe it was because my fingers wouldn’t initially loosen from her shirt—whatever. I fought with it for a second, finally freeing myself, and sat up.

  Raine sat up beside me, glaring.

  “Well, what did you mean, then?” she asked.

  I had meant exactly what I said, but I wasn’t about to admit that. There was no way I was going to come out and say I hated them being in the condo at all, even if they did keep their mouths shut, which of course they didn’t. She was already pissed off at me enough, and I had to figure out a way to make it better, not worse.

  “I just…I don’t like people.”

  Raine stared at me for a moment.

  “Why?” she asked.

  My mind began to race. I wasn’t really sure how to answer the question. I never considered myself a people person, but I never really thought about the reason for that. It was just the way it was.

  “I just…don’t.”

  Apparently, Raine wasn’t going to let me off the hook and prodded me to give her a better answer.

  Tensing, I t
ried to come up with a decent answer that didn’t make me sound like an ass, but I couldn’t think of anything. As I struggled inside to come up with the perfect words, the turmoil inside of me increased and eventually overflowed. Closing my eyes tightly, I opened my mouth and let shit run out of it.

  “Because I don’t have anything to say to them!” I blurted. I covered my face with one hand and slammed the back of my head ineffectually into the pillow. It didn’t help.

  “What does that mean?” Raine’s voice was soft as she propped herself on one elbow to look down at me. A small amount of my tension ebbed.

  “When people are around, they end up asking me questions,” I said as I shoved myself off the pillow and sat up. I wrapped my arms around my legs and put my chin on my knees. “I don’t have any answers for them. I don’t have anything to say.”

  “Will you give me an example?” Raine asked, her tone going soft.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to say?” My voice rose in pitch as my throat constricted. My gut churned as if a little tornado were forming inside of it. “What am I supposed to talk about? About how I was such a fucked up kid that my own parents dumped me? Should I tell them about how every foster home I was ever in kicked me out? How about my time in juvie? There’s a fun topic. Or the best question of all—‘what do you do for a living?’ How am I supposed to answer that? Oh, you know, I made a shit-ton of money killing people, but I’m retired now.”

  Raine’s face scrunched up, and she squished her lips together. She let out a long sigh through her nose before opening her arms and pulling me back down to the pillows.

  “I never thought about it that way,” she admitted. “I can see where that would be difficult. You are right—the kinds of things people usually ask would be difficult for you to answer.”

  With a shudder, my body relaxed, and the whirlwind inside dissipated. I wrapped my arms around her and held her against my chest in silent appreciation of her understanding.