Strike: Dax

  You want your reward? You better win.

  Dad shoves me away by my chin, making me stumble back, disgust clearly written all over his face. “I want ya ready for Friday night, Dax.” My dad’s thick finger points at me, “No slappers, no fucking, keep yer hands off yer dick.”

  I nod, swallowing down the rage that boils in my gut. He’s a fucking genius. He wants me furious, determined…an outright demon in the ring. He knows the best way to get results is to keep me angry and horny.

  “Go’n do the bag. An hour. Not a minute less.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t bloody argue with me, lad!”

  The venom in his voice keeps me from talking back. Silently, I leave the cage, stalking over to the heavy bag in the corner, and start punching it, pretending it’s my father’s face I’m hitting instead of cracked old vinyl.

  As I do the various punches and kick combinations, each one in a specific order long ago committed to memory, I allow myself to imagine getting out of this place to have a life of my own. Where I get to choose what I do, who I fuck, and where no one else will have a goddamn say.

  For now, I go along with dad’s way simply because it’s easier. The money is good and I get pussy brought right to my feet. Regardless, I cannot wait until my gig Saturday night. It’s the beginning of my plan to leave Hackney, and the club, behind.

  Sweat is pouring off my face and body, making it difficult to see, but I keep pounding that sodding bag, too stubborn to back off and let my dad think he’s broken me.

  “Oi!”

  I give the bag one last good whack before snatching up a towel to wipe myself off. I need my brother giving me a pep talk like I need a second cock—It seems like a good idea until you realize it’s fucking useless.

  “What do you want, Ethan?”

  “Hey! Who put a goalpost up your arse?” He holds his hands up in mock offense.

  I glare at my oldest brother. He can be so fucking stupid sometimes. Of all of us, Ethan is the only one who looks like dad—dark hair, light eyes, intimidating as fuck all. The rest of us are big like them, but blonde with dark eyes like our mum.

  “Let me guess. Dad, of course. Who else would have you this aggro?” Ethan chuckles under his breath, but there’s no humor in his tone. “You have to ignore ninety percent of what the old codger says, Dax.”

  “Easy for you to say. He’s not riding your ass like he is mine.”

  I strip off my fingerless bag gloves, tossing them aside to grab my drink. Too late, I see Ethan’s hand whipping through the air.

  “Ow!” My instinct is to rear back and punch my brother after he slaps the back of my head, but I suppress it, knowing Ethan will give as good as he gets. “What the hell was that for?”

  “Because, you stupid knob, we share a room. Or have you forgotten?” My only answer is a rude grunt. “I work here with him every damn day, Dax. At least you have school and your music as an escape. You don’t hear him getting on me because you’re not here all the time.”

  “School,” I scoff. “Yeah, that’s a real relaxing break from the club, Ethan. Stuck with a perpetual stiffy while surrounded by girls that I can’t fuck for fourteen days out of every month.” Scowling, I grab my water bottle and drink most of it in a few large gulps.

  My oldest brother’s gray eyes soften, reflecting an age much wiser than his twenty-two years. “Trust me bro, take advantage of the freedom school gives you while you’re there. This…” he spins around with his arms spread wide, “is no paradise.”

  Well crap. If this is the best it’s going to get, I need to get moving on that plan.

  Kate

  “This is so exciting! I’m so glad I wore this dress, it shows off my body perfectly.”

  I stifle a giggle when Tasha hides her face and rolls her eyes so I can see it but Willa can’t. Willa is… well, let’s just say she only thinks about one thing—herself.

  “Ellie, you alright?” I elbow my newest, and somehow suddenly my closest, friend, bouncing my knees with anticipation. Ellie and I live in the same building so we’ve bonded by walking to school together or doing class work. Ellie turns in her seat to face me, her big blue eyes wide with anxiety.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she responds with a worried frown.

  I must be scowling because she adds on to her statement, sounding somewhat more convincing. “Really, Kate. I’m brilliant.” I watch her wipe her hands on the super tight jeans I made her wear.

  Fine. Hmph. She couldn’t be less fine if she were walking naked across the stage at the Royal Albert Hall.

  Not wanting to start an argument on our girls’ night out, I keep my observations to myself. Frankly, I’m just chuffed that she came out with us. Ellie is… reticent to say the least.

  The tube slows to a stop and Tasha jumps to her feet when they announce the station. “This is ours!”

  We file out, laughing and chatting about everything and anything. The excitement of seeing a live band at a popular London pub has us all wound up like little children on a sugar high. Most of us are just over eighteen, so this is our first chance to go.

  At the front entrance of the bar, we meet up with some of our other teammates and head inside. The Drunken Kitten is a noisy, jam-packed little place in a bohemian area of London, filled to the brim with people of all sorts.

  Tasha leans close so I can hear her. “Let’s get a good spot!”

  I nod at Tasha and grab Ellie’s hand, making sure to hold my pint up in my other so the crowd doesn’t jostle it.

  “Perfect,” I declare when we carve out a little section right near the tiny stage. “I’ve heard these blokes are talented.”

  “No, you’ve heard that they’re smoking hot,” Tasha says, laughing as she sips her lager.

  “Shut it, Tash.” If it were bright enough in here, I’m certain everyone would see how red my face is. “So what? Yeah, they’re supposed to be good-looking. Is it a crime to want to watch hot guys sing?”

  Willa comes gliding through the throngs of people, sidling up to us. “I’m so going to shag one of the hot musicians,” she announces.

  Ellie frowns at Willa, but the rest of us have learned to ignore her. Willa’s only here because she overheard one of the girls discussing our plans during football practice. Otherwise, not one of us would have dared to invite her.

  The lights dim causing the packed crowd to whistle and yell. After initially stumbling over his own feet, the first musician hops onto the small, lighted stage. Right as it hits me that I recognize him, I spot another man with a guitar following close behind.

  Dax Davies.

  I’m struck dumb. Rooted to the spot like a total idiot. I’m so shocked I don’t even remember to fidget. In the background, I register that my friends are screaming for Dax and his friend Adam, and they’re screaming loudly. Everything after that becomes a blur. I’m sure there’s singing, clapping, hollering, dancing… I hear and see none of it.

  Instead, burned onto my impressionable brain forever, is the glorious sight of Dax in a tight white T-shirt, his ripped, sinewy bulk flexing as he strums his guitar. His jeans are frayed, the waist barely holding up on his narrow hips. I can’t tell if he’s any good at playing because the only sound I hear is blood rushing behind my ears as my poor heart works overtime to keep me on my feet.

  “Kate. Kate!”

  My unfocused eyes find Ellie, standing in front of me, blocking my view of Dax and his perfection.

  “What?”

  “I don’t feel well. Do you mind if we take off? My stomach…”

  I glance back up at Dax and my mouth goes dry at his magnificence. Then my eyes find a group of scantily dressed females congregating around the stage exit, Willa included. My stomach does a back flip, accompanied by a horrid feeling of despair.

  What’s the point of sticking around? So I can watch Dax snog someone else? Put those huge, talented hands on another girl’s body? I can’t compete with them. They’re all posh and gorgeous. Why would h
e want me when he could have one of them?

  My gaze drops back to Ellie. Christ, she really doesn’t look well at all. “Yeah. Let’s go, El.”

  What was supposed to be a fun night out has made me depressed as hell. Instead of having a laugh, I tortured myself for nearly two hours watching my walking dream get eye-fucked by every girl in the audience. I need to get it through my thick skull—Dax Davies doesn’t love me and never will.

  It’s better that way, I’m sure. But coming to grips with it? Well, that just plain sucks.

  CHAPTER 2

  Dax

  “Dad! I’ll be ready for the fight. I’m always ready. Stop bleedin’ jumping on me!”

  I stuff my head under my pillow, not wanting to hear my brother argue with my dad.

  “Yer not ready. Ya look like ya were whoring about last night. Forget the rules, Liam?”

  Fuck me. I let out a groan. The thin pillow can’t block out the shouting. Liam has a match tonight and I swear the old bastard is more obsessed with his rules than ever. Right now, he’s pushing his favorite rule on Liam, the one we hate the most.

  Rule 3—No fucking, shagging, wanking, sucking, or getting off for seven days leading up to a fight.

  Naturally, with four randy sons sporting constant hard-ons in need of relief, dad has had a difficult time drilling that particular rule into our heads. Hell, Ethan told me that dad had expected him to be completely celibate once he was old enough to fight at the club. When that plan failed miserably, with Ethan running around behind the old man’s back shagging anything that moved, dad conceded to no sex for one full week before a fight. He insists it keeps the primal drive to win heightened. There’s something to it, especially his rewards. I just happen to think it’s cocked up when your dad is plotting your next suck and shag.

  Sighing¸ I glance over and notice Ethan’s small single bed is empty in our cramped room. My eyes find the digital clock on our shared nightstand. Crap. It’s already noon. After last night’s gig, I let some tart suck me off in the loo. That meant I didn’t get home until late. Adam, well, Adam went straight home, too obsessed over this Ellie girl from school to chat up anyone at the DK. After he noticed her in the audience, he went looking for her. When he couldn’t find Ellie anywhere, he was done for the night.

  “Dax! Get yer arse out here ya skiver! Your lie-in is over, son!”

  I punch my pillow miserably. My day has officially begun.

  “You need help?”

  My brother Liam ignores me, choosing to stretch his own muscles instead of answer as he readies for his fight.

  “Fine,” I snap, using Liam as an outlet for my irritation. “I don’t give a rat’s arse if you’re tight and pull every muscle in your body!”

  Liam doesn’t fight often. He’s not weak by any means. He honestly just doesn’t care enough to win, which makes our dad mental. The intense, burning fountain of rage and testosterone that the rest of us feel before a match doesn’t seem to extend to this particular Davies. Somehow, Liam maintains an even, Zen-like attitude no matter how much our dad berates him or how hard he works him. He doesn’t have to hide his emotions like the rest of us do.

  “Will you shut yer hole, Dax?” Shaun’s huge form barges into the tiny locker room, all puffed up and set to defend his less aggressive twin brother.

  “Fuck off,” I say lightly. Shaun glares at me, but his lips twitch just enough that I know he’s amused not angry. Thank god, because fighting Shaun is a nightmare. He’s ruthless.

  Shaun turns his attention to Liam. People say they can’t tell them apart, being identical twins and all, but for me it’s easy. Maybe it’s the way Liam’s eyes shine with compassion and warmth while Shaun’s are hard and cold. Hell, I’m Shaun’s little brother and the teeny tiny smirk he just gave me is about as much of a laugh as I’ve ever seen on his face. Polar fucking opposites, those two.

  They put their heads together, nodding and whispering and doing that strange twin thing they have with each other. Now I feel like an intruder. I have to get out of here. “I’ll be out by the cage,” I growl as I leave the suddenly stifling room.

  Liam and Shaun have each other. Ethan is never around anymore and with him being the oldest, I was always just the annoying kid brother. Dad only cares about the club and mum is too busy taking care of and feeding five huge, hungry men to worry about me.

  I live in a crowded fucking flat with five other people and I feel completely alone. Really, the only attention I get is when I’m fighting or when I get my reward. Right now, I live for those fucking rewards. It’s the only human contact I get that doesn’t involve punching, and the only time in my life when I have some sort of semblance of control.

  After Liam’s fight, I trudge down the dark streets towards my flat. By the time I’m nearly home, I feel guilty. I probably should have gone out to celebrate Liam’s win with the rest of my family. This particular match was such a big deal even my mum went with them to the local pub.

  Rule 1—Family first.

  Whatever. So I broke a rule. I’m the youngest, the defiant one, the one they always expect will go left when they say go right. I’m sure no one thought I’d turn up anyway. I told them I’d meet them out at the pub and came home instead. Any punishment dad comes up with won’t break me. I’m used to his methods by now. Yet those sodding rules still gnaw at me like Catholic guilt, popping into my thoughts every time I do something that doesn’t follow their restrictive instructions.

  As I approach my crumbling old building, I see the dark shadow of a person sitting near the graffiti-covered entrance. No matter how good I am with my fists—and I’m good—I’m still wary of getting into a street fight with a bloke on the piss or a nutter who went off his meds. When I get close I have my hands clenched and ready for whatever comes next.

  A low moan breaks the silence and the figure turns his head towards the dim streetlight.

  “Adam?”

  Fuck! I sprint the remaining distance, dropping to the cold ground next to my best friend. My heart seems to clog up my throat, making it difficult to breathe. Something is very wrong.

  “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  Adam wheezes, wincing from the effort, but doesn’t answer. Gravel digs into my knees as I check him for injuries, but I ignore the sharp pain. All I can see are a few scrapes on his face, some worse than others. It’s not nearly enough to have him looking this pale or to render him practically unconscious.

  “Adam!” I lightly shake his shoulders.

  Still no answer. Adam’s hazel eyes are glassy, unfocused. Panicking, I yank up his thin jumper, exposing his undershirt to the cold air. My mouth dries up and I let out a gasp, bending over in pain as if I were punched in the gut.

  Holy fuck!

  It’s dark out, so the shiny, dripping wetness on his white shirt looks black. But it’s not. It’s blood. Loads of it. So much so that I can smell the metallic tang in the crisp January air.

  “Adam! I need to get you to hospital.”

  I reach down to help him up, shoving one arm under his arms from the back and the other in front. I’m easily able to hoist him to his feet. Miraculously, he doesn’t collapse even though I’m supporting most of his weight.

  Adam whispers in my ear, so soft it’s just a faint rasp.

  “Come again?”

  I can hardly hear him, but his words are clear. “No. Hospital. Danny.”

  His own brother? Bastard!

  I tense up, squeezing with my arms, which causes Adam to hiss in pain. “Danny did this?”

  Adam can’t respond. He passes out, his head dropping forward and his body becoming slack in my arms. Lucky for me Adam is fairly thin and I’m fit, or else I wouldn’t be able to manage. It takes almost half an hour, but I get him back to his flat and into his bed. I can’t keep him at my place, my parents would insist on going to A&E. They’ve known Adam forever and care about him as if he were another Davies.

  By the time I get him home, get to the all-night chemist
to retrieve some supplies to clean his wound, and get back to Adam’s flat, we’re both drenched with sweat —me from exertion, Adam from shock.

  Shaking, I sit on the edge of Adam’s bed—just a dingy mattress on the floor—and hold my head in my hands. My best mate was almost killed tonight. Something has got to change.

  Kate

  I watch ruefully as Dax and Ellie walk away from school together, threading my fingers through the end of my braid. Never in my life did I think I would hate football, but today I do. I’m stuck at practice, in the freezing cold, while Ellie gets escorted round town by the boy I want more than anything in the world.

  “Oi. What’s that about?”

  I turn to see Tasha staring at Dax and Ellie, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

  Shrugging, I play it off. “Don’t know. He’s been walking her to Adam’s flat every day. She said it has something to do with Adam being out of school. He takes her to visit.”

  “Adam? Adam Reynolds?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tasha gives me an incredulous look as if she doesn’t believe their story. That it’s a cover for some sordid affair between Dax and my best mate.

  “Ellie’s not with Dax, Tash.”

  “Hmph. What does a god like Dax Davies see in a boring little mouse like Ellie?”

  I startle, not realizing Willa had joined us on the edge of the pitch. Both Tasha’s mouth and mine fall open at Willa’s rudeness.

  She takes note of our shocked expressions and sneers, curling her lip up in disgust. “Well, it’s true. Didn’t you see all the girls at the DK waiting to get a piece of him? They were all way better looking than her,” Willa sniffs, tossing her hair over one shoulder.

  Annoyed, I defend my friend. “How can you say that? Ellie’s flat out gorgeous, Willa.” God, I could slap that condescending look off of her face.

  Jealous cow.

  “Is she? Then how come it was me sucking him off after the concert and not her?” She arches one of those perfectly groomed eyebrows of hers, shoving her superiority in my face.