Chapter Eight
Theo
The scene before me is one I don’t think I will ever forget as long as I live. Grace is trembling and cowering on the marble floor while a fucking stranger has a belt in the air, about to whip her with it.
What in the fucking hell?
I leave my girl at home for a few hours and this is what I come back to? Rage grows bubbling hot like lava inside me.
I have not had a great day. Watching my childhood friend being lowered into the ground and seeing his young daughter distraught was enough of a shit show. My only solace as I walked away from the funeral home was that I knew Grace would be waiting for me at home. That thought kept me in a good mood, until now.
I walk around the man, keeping my expression straight. “Tell me why you have your fucking belt in your hand, trying to whip my woman,” I grit out, trying my best to hold down the urge to slam a punch into his face.
His face twists with a sneer as he lowers his hand. “ Your woman? What right do you have to call her yours?” he snaps.
My fists bunch at his words. I move closer to Grace, taking in her posture, then I look back at the asshole. “Who the fuck are you, and what the hell are you doing in my house?” I ask.
The man snickers, and all I want to do is beat him to a pulp. Still, I wait.
“Abel Atkins,” he says, like I’m supposed to know who the fuck he is. He must see my expression, because his mouth curls bitterly. “The father of the whore sitting at your feet. I’m here to take her back home with me.”
My vision blurs as a dark rage overshadows my senses.
No one calls my girl a whore.
I growl low in my throat, taking a threatening step toward the bastard. I’m suddenly stopped by a gentle grip to my ankle. I glance down, my gaze clashing with Grace’s pleading eyes.
“Please…” she whispers, tears spilling down her beautiful face.
I grit my jaw hard as I see the red print on her face. I push down the urge to break all of her father’s limbs. “Grace is going nowhere with you. She’s mine, and I intend to protect her as long as I live,” I say with a raised brow.
The words come to me as easy as breathing. I don’t have to think about it. It’s something I’ve known since I’ve met her. Her father scoffs at my words. “Words from the devil himself. The creator of all evil. You’re going to burn and perish in hell. Both of you,” he spits.
“You know what? I’ve had enough. I want you off my property right now, or I’ll call the cops,” I threaten.
His eyes widen slightly before his face takes on a sick look of delight. “You want to call the cops on me? Have you forgotten who you are and what you do for a living, Theo Kane?”
His smile widens. “Yes, I know about you. An underground fighter, popular for leaving his opponents brutally injured or dead. I’ve done my research, and I know what you do is illegal. Why don’t you call the cops, let’s see who’ll be in trouble?”
His voice lowers as his eyes turn crazed with fanaticism. “But God is on your side, you see—if you let my daughter come with me, then I can stay quiet about your unclean activities. As men we have to cover for one another, don’t we?”
At his distasteful words, my heart goes out to Grace. I’ve only spent a few minutes with her father and I want to rough him up. I can’t imagine living years under his thumb and still turning out as angelic and graceful as she has. The more I watch Abel talk, the more recognizable he becomes to me. I never forget a face, and I’ve been trying to place his from the moment I set eyes on him.
It suddenly comes to me.
“You know, come to think of it,” I start in a soft but steely tone, “you remind me of a particular rowdy man in the underground. Flashy, always throwing money around. It’s you, isn’t it? I don’t know why I didn’t recognize your face immediately, seeing as you’re well-known among the women, for assault. You cover your tracks with money, but you sure are on your way to hell with the rest of us.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but I can see the smugness in his eyes faltering.
My smile turns cold. “I’m throwing your threat back at you. How about I call the cops and let’s see who gets locked up? A man who flaunts his money, dealing drugs and assaulting women, or a popular fighter who’s known for his contributions to the city. No one cares about how I make a living, nor do I care about my reputation. You, on the other hand, have a reputation to uphold, or would you rather I leak your clandestine and unclean activities to your church?”
“Y-you have no evidence,” Abel stutters, his eyes darting around.
“Why don’t you try me?”
After a few seconds of weighing his options, he says, “This is not the end. The lord will surely punish you for your transgressions.”
In one quick step, I grab him by his lapel, pulling him close until our noses are inches apart. “Not before he strikes you down, asshole.”
I snap my hand back and punch him square in the face, smiling in satisfaction at the stream of blood that trickles from his nose. “That’s for hitting Grace in the face,” I say harshly. “The next time I get a whiff of you around this place or you as much as breathe the same air as Grace, I’ll ruin you,” I vow, then push him away from me.
“You won’t get away with this,” Abel threatens before slinking out of the house.
I slam the door behind him, not giving him or his words a second thought. Instead, I bend to pick Grace up, and her arms immediately circle my neck.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly as I head toward the staircase.
She nods softly. “Why did you punch him?” she asks.
“He deserved it, sweetheart. He put his hands on you. The only reason I let him go without more damage is because you don’t want him hurt.” I walk down the hallway to my bedroom, open the door and enter, pushing it closed with my leg. I place her gingerly at the center of the bed and I go into the bathroom to soak a towel in warm water. As I return, I climb in beside her and slowly dab the warm towel against her red cheek.
“Does it hurt?” I ask gently.
“Not anymore.”
We stare at each other in silence until she shyly drops her gaze.
“Has he always been that way?” I ask quietly.
Grace sighs. “Yes. Not as far back as I can remember, but I guess things kinda progressed over the years. He’s always been a religious person who gradually became a fanatic. When my mother was alive, she shielded me from him, so I didn’t know the extent of his cruelty.”
She lifts her gaze to mine and my chest tightens at the echoes of pain in her gorgeous green eyes. “He took everything away from me…my confidence, my self-worth. Sometimes, I wonder if he’s right and I’m unworthy of love.”
“No, baby, he’s wrong.” I gently cup her face in my palm, keeping my eyes locked on hers, hoping she feels my sincerity. “I love you.”
Grace’s eyes grow as huge as saucers. She opens her mouth and closes it again, swallowing nervously as a deep blush spreads across her features.
I chuckle, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “You don’t need to say anything right away, sweetheart,” I say, smiling into her eyes. “We have forever to go.”
She chuckles even as a teardrop slips from her eyes. Then she surprises me by throwing her arms around my neck and pressing her body against mine in a tight hug. I wrap my arms around her, my heart swelling with an indescribable warmth.
So this is love? It sure is an incredible feeling.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my neck. “For everything.”
We remain silent for a long time, just soaking in the feeling of our bodies against each other and the unspoken emotions swirling between us.
“Can I ask you a question?” Grace asks, finally pulling away from the hug.
I nod at her with a small smile. “Yes, baby. Anything.”
“Fighting…” She hesitates. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“It is.”
“Why do you still do it then? You have enough to retire now.”
“Are you scared for me, baby?” I ask, slowly running my thumb down her cheek to her plump lower lip…
“Yes,” she murmurs breathlessly, her cheeks rosy, her eyes never leaving mine. The thought of her lips around my cock suddenly steals my breath.
Fuck.
“You should be scared for my opponents, baby. You heard your dad—I either leave them dead or maimed.”
“That doesn’t make you invincible,” she mutters grumpily, a small frown marring her beautiful face. “It only means you’re in danger of being dead or wounded every time you’re in the ring.”
I swallow my smile. She looks so cute worrying about me that I don’t have the heart to tell her that the “ring” is really more like a slab with thick ropes surrounding it than an actual professional fighting space.
I pick up her small hands, bunch them into fists, and press kisses on them. “Wanna try punching me?” I ask, directing her fists to my cheeks, then my stomach.
Grace gapes. “What are you doing?”
“Come on, try. I have a feeling you punch like a girl.”
She laughs. “That’s because I’m a girl , silly.”
“So you agree your punch is weak?” I tease.
“That’s not true!”
“Prove me wrong then.”
She hesitates, a small smile playing on her lips, then she bunches up her hand and rams her fist into my gut.
“Ah!” I exhale, pretending to grab my stomach.
“Oh God!” she gasps, her eyes growing wide with alarm. “I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to punch so hard.”
I snicker, then burst into a full-blown laughter as I watch the play of emotion on Grace’s beautiful face. Her lips twitch and she punches me playfully in the same spot. “It’s not funny,” she says, grinning widely at me.
I sit up and pull her into the space between my legs, her back against my chest. I drop my head to the crook of her neck, wrapping my arms around her waist. Then I close my eyes, letting her soft, flowery scent calm the storm rising in my soul.
“At first, fighting was a means of survival,” I say quietly, tightening my arms around her waist, anchoring myself. “Then it became a means of release. I had so many pent-up emotions, so much frustration eating me up from the inside. I was angry at the world for being so shitty, at my dad for giving up, at myself… Fighting was the only thing that kept me sane.”
She twists her neck to look at my face, her gaze soft and searching. “You’ve been fighting for a long time, Theo. Do you still feel…angry?”
“Not since I met you.”
A radiant smile spreads across her features. She turns around in my arms and gently presses her lips on mine in a chaste kiss. She starts to pull away, but I hold her in place and deepen the kiss, pushing my tongue past her lips into the welcoming warmth of her mouth. When we pull apart, we’re both breathing hard. I smile into her glazed eyes and then drop my gaze, letting my eyes roam over the luscious swell of her breasts before looking back up at her inquiringly.
“You were sad about your friend, and I wanted to do something to make you feel better. So, I tried to dress up for you,” she explains shyly.
“Well, we can’t let all that preparation go to waste, now can we?”