Chapter 33
Shooter
Iwanted that damn picture as my wallpaper, the one where the most perfect woman is in nothing but her panties and the cut with my name on it.
But I wasn’t going to murder my entire club if they looked at my phone.
But it was the best thing I could look at, even two weeks after first looking at it.
She was a beacon of beauty, the calm in my storm. The reason why I was smiling often.
She was finally letting go and when she put on that jacket, everything felt real, and I had another purpose of protecting everything and everyone around me.
“Watch your back foot,” I yelled out from the side, as two of our young fighters were sparing, calling out each combination, feeling the power in their strikes when they hit my mitt.
Everything was too good since the night of sending a message back to the Mafia family.
Hound Dog wondered if it was enough, upping security around the compound and even slowing the illegal business, just until we knew it would be good to resume.
Hank and Stray were off to the side working some of the other members of the gym. A chime from the door caught my attention, and our long lost blond young fighter walked in with a hood over his head. The man had gone quiet, I feared he was avoiding us for other reasons.
Instead of the vibrant, charming man he was, in place was a solemn man, like the world was crashing around him. His body was hunched over, like he was avoiding eye contact.
I stopped him, before he could head back to the lockers. I gave him a good squeeze, leaning down to search for the light in his eyes.
“Nice to see you,” I said softly, attempting not to spook him.
Dillon remained silent, afraid to even speak. I shook him for some attention. “Look at me.”
His sad eyes finally looked up. Dark circles appeared on his face, the tired expression on his face told me everything I needed to know. Something was eating him inside and rearing its ugly face.
“Hit the locker showers before you come onto the mat. Whatever is going on in that pretty head of yours, you’re safe. You hear me?”
Dillon nodded before shuffling off to the back. Stray stood by my side. “What the fuck is going on with that boy?”
I shook my head looking at Stray, “I have no idea, but he looks like he’s ready to snap or worse, walk off a ledge that he can’t come back from.”
Stray started to head out, but I needed to talk to him about something I have been brewing. “Hey, one second. Spar with me.”
Stray turned back on a dime, “I’m sorry, you want me to do what?”
“Spar with me,” I repeated, tapping the ring platform to signal the fighters to make themselves disappear. I wrapped up my hands before pulling out my gloves.
I had an idea that would benefit a lot of people, me included, and through connection and my idea, Amelia. Sooner or later, this was bound to happen, it was just a matter of when and the opportunity needed to happen.
Stray, a man that seemed a little bigger than me, but just as quick on his feet, stepped into the ring.
Eyes lifted towards us as Stray prepared himself to spar.
It felt like decades since my last fight, and if I remember the last time I was in the ring, I ended up in an emergency room looking at my future wife. Okay, it wasn’t that bad.
But that’s the dream.
Hank stood by the side, puzzled. “You want to tell me the sudden desire to step foot in here?”
“I don’t know, maybe I feel rusty and just wanted to feel the rush of youth.” I laughed.
“Rusty, my ass,” Hank scoffed. “Seriously, Shooter, what’s going on? If you need to hit something, the bags are over there. And if you need to pick on someone, pick on the prospects or something.”
I rolled my shoulders back. “It’s something better.”
“Something better? And you fucking pick me as your sparring partner?” Stray strides over, shoving me with a gloved hand.
I stood in my stance, taking a step toward him, walking him back to the center. Stray looked at Hank. Hank just shrugged it off, waving him to continue. Out of the corner of my eye, Dillon came out, standing near one of the corners of the ring, leaning on one of the ropes.
“I thought about having another fight night,” I said, giving the surprise element. Stray stood up straight, giving me the opportunity to play a little dirty and right hook his chin. He left his guard down and with a grunt, he staggered back.
“What the fuck you mean you having another fight night?” Stray huffed out.
“Exactly what I said. What if I was the headliner and we charge double for admission and up the fee for the gamblers?” I spewed off lunging forward to Stray, tossing out a few combos, but then being blocked by him.
I tried moving to the side, but Stray took that opportunity to throw a hit to my side, knocking me back a couple of steps.
I dug into the floor, steadying my body.
“Last time you fought, was what? Six years ago?” Hank asked, his attention fully on me.
“Yeah and?” I huffed out, bobbing from Stray’s offensive combinations.
Stray had been an accomplished fighter back in the day, fighting him was what anyone needed to feel like they could win.
At that moment, I wasn’t doing well. He was fast with his hits, he knew where weakness laid, and anticipated every move.
He almost backed me into a corner. Eventually he did. I had to find my opening.
“Well, judging by your stance and how well you’re doing right now, I don’t think that’s the best idea, my friend.” Hank chuckled deeply.
“I mean, give me a couple of weeks or so, and some time with this man, I’ll be back in winning shape,” I said, as the air in my lungs was failing me.
Fuck, I thought with the amount of fucking we did that my stamina would be up to speed.
“Tell me why you’re really doing this? Is this about the mafia folks? Everything has been fine.”
“No, it’s not about that,” I huffed out.
Stray took a step back, knowing that any more hits and I’d be on my knees and not in the pleasurable way. Sweat dripped down his face, “Then what’s this about.”
I had been dancing around telling the club the whole truth about Amelia, partially because it was going to be handled and mostly because Amelia already felt shit about this situation.
I sighed, “Shit’s been going on with Amelia and that night she came to the compound was just the tip of the iceberg.
And I can’t sit by and let it happen. And she won’t let anyone else touch it, much less me and little by little she’s starting to accept it. ”
“But not fast enough, right?” Stray asked.
I nodded. “One fight. One win. And it will be her freedom.”
Hank chimed in. “And who the fuck are you going to get to fight you?”
“I think we can help with that.” A deep voice from the front made us snap our heads to attention.
There in the entrance of the gym stood a man with dark hair and a hungry look in his eye, tailored in a suit that probably cost a lot more than he’d admit.
He walked in with two associates by his side.
I had only one guess who the fuck that was and my blood started to boil.
“Who the fuck are you, gentlemen?” Hank’s southern drawl rang out.
“Someone of an interested party,” the man cooed. “Where are my manners, allow me to introduce myself. You can call me Franklin Abbott, member of the De Santo family.”
De Santo family. My eyes saw red, I was about to find the strength to end it once and for all. It was stupid of them to walk into our territory, and act like they were a friendly party. I straightened up, taking off my gloves, wanting to wring their necks before their very eyes.
“You looking for an early grave? ‘Cause buddy, we don’t mind doing a little digging,” I threatened.
“I’ve come with a business proposition. And it seems like we are on the same idea.” His lips curled a smile. There was a slight northern accent, faint but it was there. I looked past him and tried to recall why one of the associates looked vaguely familiar.
“Last time we checked, we’re not in the business of working alongside the mafia.” Stray said, hopping off the ring and walking toward the group.
“Mafia? Are we that obvious? You haven’t listened to the best part,” Franklin said, slowly looking past myself and Stray.
I turned in that direction, seeing Dillon cower in the back.
“You run a very tight fighting ring. My compliments. But it sounds like you’re in the market for a fighter and we’re in the market for a fight. ”
“You just happen to have a fighter?” I said. “Nothing happens for no reason.”
“Yes, a young rookie. New to the family, well more like a second cousin once removed. But you get the idea.”
“Speak faster." I warned him.
“Now, Shooter, we wouldn't do anything with haste. I’d hate to send you home to your little nurse with bullet holes.” He threatened with a calm voice.
I rushed toward him but was stopped by Stray. “Watch what you say next.” I started to seethe with anger. Adrenaline pumped in my veins.
The mere mention of Amelia out of his prim and proper looking ass, and I was ready to unleash the monster inside and bathe in his warm blood.
“State your business, Mr. Abbott, and disrespectfully get the fuck out of here.” Hank stomped toward us, ready to fight, even if it meant pulling out the guns, hidden within compartments around us. Hank scrunched his face, his eyes narrowing.
“I’m merely offering a deal, and it looks like you might be more…
inclined to take the offer. I’m sure your leader, I mean your president would agree.
” Franklin smiled. He stared at me, stepping forward without a fear that I would rip with fucking throat.
“I think once you hear the offer, you’ll be a good little boy and agree. ”
I growled, lunging forward, breaking free from Stray’s grasp. I gripped his lapels, thrusting Franklin against the wall. The clicking of guns fell behind me.
“You messed with the wrong fucker.”