Fighting Lust: A Deadly Sins Novel (7 page)

“Yes, he’s uncomfortable moving to his left. That’s your ticket,” Jax adds. “Got it?”

Looking at them both briefly, I nod, then wait for the bell to ring signaling the beginning of round one. When it finally comes, I move forward and Zach and I circle each other a few times, measuring one another up, then take my first shot. We each get in a few punches and kicks, and after minimal sparring; we tie each other up in the center of the octagon, vying for position. His leverage and skill take me by surprise, and before I know it, his strength has taken me to the ground. Cursing internally, I’m angry he’s got top position and control. I’m fighting hard to defend against his elbows. One gets by me and connects with my forehead; it hurts like a son of a bitch. I can’t tell if the moisture running down the side of my head is sweat from exertion, or blood from the blow. Managing to hold him off and tie him up, he can’t do any more damage in this position. I’m thankful when the sound of the bell resounds through my pain.

Angrily stalking to my corner, I sit as Coach and Jax immediately start in on me, “What the fuck are you doing out there? You look like a rookie! You want to get beat to shit?” Coach asks me making me glare at him. “Your looks have no effect on me pretty boy, he says to drive home the taunting of my opponent. Get your shit together.”

“How are you feeling?” Jax asks as he pulls away a cloth from my face that’s covered in blood. That answers that question. Not sweat, blood. He begins covering the cut with wax to try and slow down the bleeding.

“I’m fine,” I grit out as I avoid thinking about the sting above my eye and the pounding in my head, the unseen result.

“Listen, do what we talked about before,” Jax says. “Stay on your feet. Keep him going to the left, and whatever you do, don’t let him get you to the ground. Got it?”

As I nod, he finishes up, and the bell rings signaling for round two. I’m boiling. All of my training kicks in and I’m able to do what I want. I get him moving back with my jabs and to the left with my hooks. Continuing to push him back, I leverage him with my weight, and strike with continuous hits that are finding their way home. Zach raises his hands in defense, trying to fend me off. I continue to consistently land each blow right where I aim. This pace continues for most of the second run. When it’s all said and done, he hasn’t landed too many shots, but I once again feel blood running down the side of my head and eye. I do my best to see past the crimson curtain and keep focused.

When the round ends, we drop our arms and stances immediately and go back to our corners. Breathing heavy, I listen as my team tells me I’m doing great and that we definitely won that round. “Go back and have another round just like that one,” Coach instructs.

“Do it again and you’ve got this,” Jax confirms.

Before the bell rings, I take a moment to close my eyes and let the energy and screaming fans around me seep into my pores like a mental adrenaline shot. The third round has both Zach and I showing evidence of ensuing fatigue, but I do my best to push through, still pulling on the energy from those around me. It’s clear Zach and I both know this last round is needed to win. Our aggressiveness is in high gear as we bound out of our respective corners. We’re both determined to win and end this. I’m swinging and throwing, trying to land punches, while keeping him moving back again. He’s trying to get to my knees so he can try to take me down. I’m able to block him by positioning my legs and hips so that he can’t get into a good position. I hear him curse under his breath with each failure and it spurns me on.

Finally, I’m able to push him off, stay on my feet, and land another one two combination of punches to his face. Blood explodes from his nose and I feel profound satisfaction at the sight. I follow that up with a hard leg kick that hurts his knee. At this point, I know I’ve got him. He’s lost steam and winces in pain – maybe his nose is broken too. The shot to his knee takes away some of his aggressive take down attempts, which only helps me reach my goal.

Breaking through the adrenaline pumping through my body, my team’s cries reach my ears. “Be smart! You’ve got this!” Jax yells.

“You’ve got this. You’ve fucking got this, King,” Coach yells. “Steady now!”

Trying to maintain a little bit of distance, yet at the same time maintain contact with my blows, I move around the octagon hoping that the bell will sound soon because I know I’ve won this round and I’m ready for this shit to be over.

When the bell rings, Zach throws his hands up in the air like he thinks he’s won and I laugh out loud at the sight. Heading to my corner, Jax mutters, “Dream on mother fucker,” to Zach and takes my hand and raises it over my head for me, boldly declaring his opinion of the outcome.

Waiting for the judges to confirm, Jax goes to town on my eye again, and Dylan, Cole, Zane, Levi and Tyson appear behind Jax and Gil. “Fuck dude, your eye is swelling up good,” Cole tells me when he gets a good look at my face.

“It’s a good look for Playboy here. Or should we start calling him pretty boy?” Levi says and Zane pushes him off the side of the octagon making me chuckle.

Finally the judge’s scorecards are as I thought they would be. 29-28, 29-28, 29-28. A win by unanimous decision. “And that’s it folks, the judges have decided. Winner by unanimous decision is Ryderrrrr ‘Playboy’ Kingggggg,” the announcer bellows and the place around us erupts.

Throwing up my arms in victory, I do a lap around the octagon and encourage the cheering. The guys all come inside the octagon and cheer excitedly, pat me on the back, and offer their congratulations. All the while, in between my celebrating, Jax keeps working on the bleeding. Considering the look on his face, it’s going to require just a bit more than what he has to offer, first aid-wise.

Hands slide around my waist and startled I turn around to find a scantily clad blonde grinning ear to ear and clinging to me. “Congratulations, Playboy. How about I help you celebrate?”

Grinning widely, I lean down to whisper in her ear, but am jerked back hard, making me curse. “Sorry, darlin’ he’s not available right now. He’s due for his post-fight concussion check. It’s protocol,” Jax tells her.

She sticks her big lip out in a pout and I’m surprised when I feel her hand at the waist of my shorts. She tucks something inside and gives me a wink, “Call me,” she instructs, making it clear I am now the owner of her phone number. As I watch her fine ass walk away, I consider myself lucky to have obtained it.

“Alright, come on,” Coach pushes me in the direction of Jax and I grin at him while he shakes his head at me.

On our way to the back locker rooms, Jax continues to dab at my head with a cloth between several interruptions along the way – I must greet my fans and accept their congratulations – it just wouldn’t be right not to do that. I give him looks of exasperation and he just stares back at me in challenge. “Get changed quickly,” he tells me as we enter the room. “I want you to get to the hospital immediately.”

“I don’t need a hospital. Just have them check me for a concussion, I’ll put a bandage on and be fine.” I gesture to the fight doctor.

“Nope, not happening. You’re skin is laid out. You’re going to need stitches.”

“No fucking way. I’m not spending all night in the emergency room to get two stitches. Put a bandage on it and stop being a little bitch about it,” I snap at Jax, aware however of the ever increasing throbbing in my head.

Cole walks up and gestures for Jax to move the towel aside, “I’ll take him,” he says. Before I can protest he shakes his head, “Dude, it’s bad. You know we wouldn’t push it if it weren’t. You’ll bleed through a pressure bandage in no time. Jax is right.”

“Thank you,” Jax says sarcastically but we ignore him.

“Fine,” I mumble. Yanking my clothes off in anger and frustration, I turn to Cole, “I’m going to shower the best I can, then we can go.”

Cole nods and follows me. I start to protest, but know he has to at least sit outside and make sure he doesn’t hear me fall or something in case I’m concussed. While this is annoying as hell, complaining is useless. Protocol is what it is.

The whole time I shower, blood pours from my head. Head wounds bleed terribly – it’s ridiculous. It’s easy to feel like you’ve lost buckets of blood. I keep a towel pressed against it as best I can, but even I can tell I’ll need stitches – it’s just not letting up. Feeling bad for giving Jax such a hard time, I pat him on the back when I walk back out after dressing, prepared to go. He nods, “Good fight, man. Text me and let me know what the doctor says, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Cole and I tell everyone good night and after a quick battle with Dylan and Levi, convincing them they don’t need to come with us, we head out. When we get to the emergency room, I’m happy to see it appears to be a slow night. There are few people in the waiting room and I didn’t see any ambulances parked at the entrance. We register quickly and take a seat.

We don’t wait long before we’re called back. Cole comes with me even though I don’t need him to, but what the hell, it’s just stitches and he can keep me company. We discuss the fight as we’re shown to a triage room, and Cole talks excitedly about his own fight that’s quickly approaching. He’s been training hard and if he wins, it could mean a big pay out and more fights in his future.

“Alright, Mr. King, my name is Tessa and I’ll be your nurse this evening. Can you please tell me what happened?”

I look at her immediately when she walks inside the room. While it isn’t down like before, the red catches my attention. My entire body instinctively seemed to know it was her the second she walked in. I’m grinning like a stupid imbecile while I watch her wash her hands. She doesn’t even look at me while she’s talking. Clearly, she read my chart and is used to her practiced lines. Laughing softly to myself more audibly than I realize as she dries her hands, she finally looks up at me, confusion lining her brow. Grinning wider at finally having those beautiful baby blues on my face once more, I finally speak. “Well I’ll be damned. Wasn’t sure I’d see you again. Tessa you said, was it?”

Her professional façade slips from her face and for a moment I see momentary perplexity in her gorgeous eyes, which appears to morph into understanding and then panic. She takes a step back in reaction, and I bark out a laugh when she actually utters, “Oh, fuck.”

It’s been another long night at the hospital. I’m not sure why, but it’s dragging – a combination of not having many patients, any really interesting or complicated cases and just plain being ready to go home. I wonder if the increase of urgent care facilities across the area are taking away our business. I know I should be happy about that in a way – less people being critically injured or suffering serious illnesses that need our help, but for some reason, considering that does not provide any satisfaction. As exhausting as it can be, I like the busyness and even the controlled chaos. And while I’d typically use this time to get some paperwork done, or catch up on employee files and other managerial related work, I’m too antsy tonight. I don’t have the concentration or desire to do that type of work. Desperate to encourage the time to go by faster, I’m taking any patient that comes in. The residents are itching to treat patients themselves and the staff nurses are restless as well, but I’m putting them to work on general department responsibilities - restocking supplies, cleaning the med room, doing inventory, reviewing open charts, and other chores that we usually struggle to find time to complete. Most of them hate it. I don’t care. This is part of what it means to be on a team and some of these tasks are ones we could become more proficient at – and really, in this work, tedious tasks and paperwork are never in short supply.