6. Chapter 5
Knuckles
“Bend at the fucking knees and duck!” I shout as I slam my hand on the ring floor with frustration and I glare over at the prospect who doesn’t duck in time to miss Scar’s fist. His head knocks to the side, spit and blood going everywhere as his eyes roll and I shake my head, my frustration doubling quicker than normal like it has in the past two days and yeah I fucking understand why but like a responsible adult I’m going to ignore it or try to at least.
“Fuck’s sake,” Blaze grunts from beside me as Andrew goes down like a lump, knocked out while Scar shakes his head. He’s barely breathing hard despite trying to train Andrew in the ring for the past hour.
The fucker is a lost cause and never should have been sponsored in.
“That is the fifth fucking time he’s managed to get himself knocked out. I dread to think what he’d be like holding a fucking gun while the Chargers are shooting at him,” I spit, glaring at the fucker groaning on the floor.
All week, we have been seeing what the prospects are made of by putting them through several tests on the one day a week my gym is closed.
One of the rules for patching in is to be able to handle yourself, and this fucker has failed epically.
“Fucking Willow could fight better than him,” I mutter, and Blaze snorts before he asks, “Who sponsored him?”
Now I snort. Usually, when men come to a brother and ask if they can patch in, it isn’t a normal club vote like some clubs.
While recommendations and concerns can be spoken, a brother must sponsor them, and they become liable for their fuck ups and I was against Andrew joining, but of course, my voice isn’t counted in the club.
“My fucking father,” I growl, “From the insistence of my mother because she’s probably been screwing his dad, who has money.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Blaze snaps, “Why in the fuck would your dad agree to that shit? That is an instant red fucking flag!”
I shake my head but don’t verbally answer him. I don’t need him losing it right now, because then he’ll want to spar, and I’ll end up knocking him out with the mood I’m in.
Mom, over the years, laid it on thick with my dad. How she’s had to raise me like a single mother, how I was unhinged and angry all the fucking time when she’s done nothing but supposedly love me and care for me.
She fucking guilt-tripped him into sponsoring one of the children of her current lover. Just to shut her up, he said, "Fine,” and now he can answer for this shit.
“Scar, get him outta here and take the leather off him,” I command instead of answering Blaze, and he grunts in acknowledgment as he bends and grabs the moaning fucker.
“He was a lousy fucking prospect,” Blaze mutters, and I snort as we watch him stumble to his feet, then balance on a pissed-off Scar. I turn away, not bothering to deal with whatever shit he’s about to come up with to keep his prospect cut.
“I’ll speak to your dad,” Blaze grunts as he walks with me towards the front desk, and I nod in acknowledgment as I grab the fucker’s file and pass it over to Blaze, who says, “Tray, you’re next,” and the bald fucker nods once and takes off his cut and shirt, and I smirk.
Tray is a regular at my gym, and I trained him myself, and fuck yeah, I sponsored him.
“Good luck to Scar,” I mutter as Tray stalks to the ring, and Blaze laughs, already knowing how crazy Tray is.
I’m not the only one always fucking angry.
Shaking my head, I turn and eye my mobile sitting on the desk as Blaze confirms, “Crusher got his ass kicked last night before he finally fought back, didn’t he?” already knowing how much his brother is struggling with Alexiana being gone.
I grunt, “Yeah, but he also found out that someone answered his phone after the fight, so he’s even more fucked up,” as last night comes back and hits me hard in my chest.
For fucking years, I never wanted someone to touch me, I felt physically fucking sick with just the thought of it, with how I was brought up, the shit I had to watch, yet seeing Kodi in that dress…
Fuck.
I lost all senses, she looked inviting and very fucking edible, and for the first time, after seeing Mags touch her, without her fucking permission, to see him eyeing her tits that I can confirm taste fucking delicious and are just over a handful, I lost all control in the ring.
The ring is my happy place, it’s where I can control the narrative of my life. If I want a few hits to my face, I allow it. Fuck, last night I nearly killed the fucker, and when she said she wanted to have some fun, I could have burned the fucking building down with the rage that ran through me.
As soon as I realized that I wanted her, all rational decisions were gone, including when I felt her barrier.
She was a fucking virgin, just like me, and her body spoke to me. It woke up with my touch, and she orgasmed fucking beautifully six fucking times to the point she could barely keep her head up. It was then that I realized what the fuck we had done, what I had done.
I felt dirty, I felt like I needed to scrub my body, but then that made me fucking angry because her touch, her smell made me feel whole. It only angered me more, and I wanted to scrub myself even harder, and she knew when I had changed because her body tensed.
I told her to fuck off, to get out, I told her she can go whore herself to someone else now, that I’d had enough of her. I was fucking angry, and instantly I hated myself, I hated the words coming out of my mouth, but seeing the unshed tears, fuck…
I felt like I had been shot in the chest.
And don’t get me started when she stormed out of my office, calling me a prick with a few tears falling, and I looked down and saw the blood on my cock.
Safe to say my office is in need of a redecoration because not one piece of furniture survived my fury.
I hated her, I hated myself, I hated my parents, so much fucking hate came out, and now I just feel numb because I feel like I’m missing something or more like someone.
I lock my jaw as I eye my phone again.
Trick got her number for me this morning, didn’t ask why, but I’ve yet to use it.
Kodi isn’t a one-night stand kind of girl, last night proved that when I tore through her virginity.
She probably won’t do enemies with benefits shit because in all seriousness, we aren’t fucking friends let alone enemies, we don’t know each other enough for that kind of title.
I’m not a relationship kind of guy, fuck, the fact I’ve only just lost my own virginity is proof I didn’t want anyone.
Fuck.
Maybe I could give her a call or go see her and make her an offer.
Fuck, no, that’s just a bad idea, she’s a relationship kind of fucking girl.
Would a relationship really be so bad, though? The angel on my shoulder whispers, You had a connection with her, she’s yours…
The devil instantly shoves the angel off, and I clear my throat, suddenly feeling like I’m going insane as Kodi’s moans echo in my ear, making my cock twitch, wanting another round with her, and Blaze asks, “Why should that matter?”
Shit! What were we talking about before all thoughts of Kodi took over?
Right Crusher, yeah…
“Alexiana called him before she left, apparently,” I say as I look at the man, and his eyes darken with anger.
I explain, “Kodi was at the fight, and she overheard a few women behind her gloat about how their friend answered Crusher’s phone eight years ago.
Apparently, she claimed she was knocked up and that they were engaged and I’m inclined to think it’s true, not the knocking someone up shit, but the phone call shit, because otherwise, why would she run? ”
“Fuck’s sake, I need to give him a call,” Blaze mutters, and I nod as he walks over to the other side of the gym, where it’s quieter, and I look back at my phone, everything deep inside me urging me to call Kodi, to see if we could…
Fuck, could what?
Get to know each other?
Fuck?
You’re not a relationship kind of guy, your mother is a whore who tried trapping your dad who never wanted you.
You’re unwanted, you wouldn’t even kiss her, you know you’ll just taint her, the devil whispers and I clench my fists as grunts echo from the ring, Tray mostly likely giving Scar a run for his money and knowing the devil is right.
I silently groan and go to turn instead of grabbing my phone, but I pause when the gym door opens and three skinny fuckers, covered in tattoos stroll in like they own the place.
The grunts in the ring stop, and even Blaze has hung up his phone after saying something, while I tilt my head as the fuckers look around the gym with a grin.
“We’re closed,” I call out to the three fuckers, and all look my way, which is when I notice the cannon tattoos on their necks, blood dripping from them.
Fucking Chargers.
They look at me with a grin clearly thinking I’m the only brother here, and I don’t hesitate with the mood I’m in. I pull my gun from behind my jeans and hold it before me, Blaze doing the same while Scar and Tray stand next to me.
“Not very nice holding a gun out to potential customers,” the shorter one sneers, not noticing Blaze’s gun, and I smirk coldly.
“Charger scum are not welcome here, turn around and fuck off before I shoot,” I say lowly as Blaze cocks his gun finally getting their attention and the one in the back tenses.
It’s six in the evening, the streets are quiet, but the cops keep doing a drive-by, no thanks to that fucker Chief Marshalls and his hard-on for our club.
We cannot risk killing them even if I really want to.
“This will be our territory soon, so you should treat us like royalty,” the beefier guy says, and Scar chuckles darkly.
“You’re a little delusional, aren’t you? Cans is locked up and currently taking it up the ass,” Scar spits, “I heard he loves being dominated…”
The skinny fucker takes a step forward, and I cock my gun this time, and I warn, “I’m all for spending time in prison for murder. Maybe I can finally kill your sick leader, so please, I dare you, take another step forward.”
The men glare at me just as several echoes of bike rumbles surround us, and all three pale, making me grin just as the door opens within seconds.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Crash says as he strolls inside the gym with my dad, Cage, Trick, and Crusher.
“Three soon-to-be-dead men, by the looks of things,” Cage says, and the men look ready to piss themselves as they eye him circling them.
Cage's reputation as the underground cage fighter precedes him.
I notice a patrol car through the one-sided window, and I put my gun away along with Blaze as the beefy guy grunts, “We were just looking for a gym to join.”
“Well, you’re not joining this one now, are you?
So, turn around and fuck off,” Trick sneers and all three tense but nod and do as he says but just as they reach the door I call, “I’d look over my shoulders if I were you because your little scare tactics has just put you on my radar and if you think Cage is scary, you haven’t seen me in the ring. ”
All three tense before they leave, and the patrol car slows as it drives past.
“Fucking cops,” I mutter, and Cage curses, “I’ve fucking had enough of that guy.”
“Why is Andrew no longer a prospect?” my dad asks suddenly as he looks at his phone, and I roll my eyes as Blaze snaps, “Because he’s a fucking pussy who got knocked out by Scar yet again!”
Dad looks at him with a brow raise, but Blaze isn’t fazed, and he growls, “Your son told you not to sponsor the fucker, and instead of listening, you went against his word, and we’ve spent weeks trying to fucking train him, and I have never seen a man go from terrible to fucking worse.”
Dad looks my way, but I shake my head as I grab my phone off the front desk, then call, “Tray, close up for me,” and I storm towards the front door.
“You’re going to have to talk to me at some point, son,” my dad says as I walk past him, and I mutter, “No, I fucking don’t, Splinter,” and storm out of my own gym just to get away from the fucker.
Years he’s never had my back, never saw how Mom was treating me, or didn’t want to see it. And now instead of saying alright and paying the ten-grand penalty since his sponsored prospect fucking sucked, he’s questioning me.
I don’t know why I even bother staying in the fucking club.
***
Three hours, that is how fucking long I’ve been ignoring the club for, how long my phone has been switched off after several missed calls.
Three hours and I’ve managed to find those three fuckers high off their asses and watch them burn inside that crappy sedan they were driving after I lit it up like a fucking bonfire and I watched them die without remorse.
Three hours and I suddenly find myself sitting astride my bike and waiting for Kodi to return home, to where she lives with her father, who is still at work.
I may have turned my phone on for ten minutes so Trick could find all the details I needed before I went radio silent again.
I gently rub my bottom lip as car lights from a bright red jeep light up the night sky, and my heart suddenly flutters, my stomach tightening.
I’m fucked up, I know this, yet I can’t seem to walk away from this girl. She’s all I’ve fucking thought of since meeting weeks ago.
Kodi pulls up next to my bike and looks at me with a guarded look, which I know I deserve, and I watch as she climbs out of her jeep.
“Hey,” I rasp as I take in her summer dress hugging her figure.
“What are you doing here, Knuckles?” she asks with a bit of grit, which again I know I deserve.
Not ready to answer her question, I instead deflect and ask, “How was your day with Clark and Willow?”
Trick mentioned she left the park hours ago, yet she’s only just gotten home.
Was she with someone else?
Did she listen to me and fuck others already?
Fuck that thought makes me itch…
“Fine, I won’t ask again, Knuckles!” she snaps, anger burning in her deep hazel eyes that make her look completely innocent, though her personality says otherwise.
She’s a fucking fireball when she wants to be.
“Come for a ride with me,” I command softly instead of answering her question, and I instantly tense as her eyes go wide.
Fuck me, why did I just say that?