Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (12 page)

Poppy Dennison – BLINDSIDED (Hurt/Comfort)*

Genre:
contemporary

Tags:
boxing, tattoos, athletes, mafia, hurt-

Dear Author,

comfort

Ever since he lost

Words:
3,600

everything he’s been

wasting away in

BLINDSIDED

underground fighting rings,

selling his meat in an

by Poppy Dennison

attempt to pay back a debt

greater than his own life.

Noah held his fist in front of his face, the

When events lead to his

bloody knuckles wrapped up in an old t-shirt

fighting days abruptly

after last night’s fight. He moved his fist slowly

ending, what is a broken

man to do with nothing left

to the side and after an inch or so, it

to give? Perhaps a familiar

disappeared.
Fuck
. The peripheral vision in his

looking someone can save

right eye was gone.

his lost soul.

[PHOTO: Two tattooed,

A crowd’s muffled roar came from above

muscular fighters hold each

and he looked up as he undid the make-shift

other tightly while kissing.

bandages from his hands. One fight down, two

The shorter, in a white tank-

top, has his right arm

to go. His fight was the last of the night. It

behind his lover’s lower

would probably be his last period. The boss had

back, the left hand, wrapped

brought in some monster of a Russian for the

in white fabric, across his

bout. His nickname was the Terminator and

lover’s shoulders. The taller

Noah’d heard stories as to why. His opponents

is naked, his left hand

holding the back of his

didn’t always walk away.

lover’s neck, the right

playing with his own rear.]

The boss told Noah it would be the best

fight of the night. Huge bets on the match

Please give these sweeties a

happy, smexy ending~

guaranteed that he’d make plenty of money,

Thank you muchly!

even though he wouldn’t see a penny of it. No,

the boss got it all. Would keep getting it all until

~ Min

he no longer owned Noah’s ass.

But with one eye barely working, he wasn’t

sure how much longer he could fight. One solid

punch from the Russian’s ham-sized fist and

Noah was pretty sure he’d be totally blinded in

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 66

his right eye. He considered dropping the left and giving the other

fighter an opening on his good side. He just didn’t know how much

damage that would cause. Still fifty grand in the hole, Noah couldn’t

risk losing sight in his other eye.

He heard footsteps coming toward the locker room and cleared his

expression. It wouldn’t do for anyone else to know he was scared

shitless to face this fighter. Noah stood up and started his dance, his

fists up in front of his face and his feet moving from side to side as he

dodged imaginary punches.

One of the other fighters, known as The Jackal, sauntered into the

room, his face slightly battered after his time in the ring. A relative

newcomer to the scene, Jason Jackson was rapidly becoming the

fighter to beat. His quick fists and quicker feet made him hard to take

down. His nickname fit, Noah thought, because he stalked his

opponents and wore them down until he went in for the kill.

Something about him had drawn Noah in from their first meeting.

Maybe he recognized a little of himself in him? They were a bit

similar in appearance, both with cropped dark hair and lean frames.

Jax also had a number of tattoos, and they’d compared ink and stories

that first time they’d met while working out.

Noah remembered that night with mixed feelings. Jax was brand

new to the scene, hadn’t even had his first fight for the boss yet. Mr.

Salvatore kept a run-down warehouse that they used as a gym. He

wanted his fighters in tip-top shape, which was laughable really, since

the equipment he provided was so worn out and beat up that it was

barely usable.

That night Jax had made the rounds, introducing himself to the

few other guys there before making his way over to the bag Noah was

punching. He’d grabbed it and kept it from swinging while Noah kept

up his hooks and jabs. After a few minutes, Noah had stopped to

shake the stiffness out of his arms and Jax had stuck out a hand.

“Jason Jackson, but you can call me Jax.”

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 67

Noah had raised a brow, but returned the handshake. “Noah.” He

didn’t really have much to say to anyone and wasn’t looking to make

friends, so he’d turned and gone over to the corner where a few jump

ropes hung from a peg on the wall. He’d grabbed the least dilapidated

one and continued his workout. Jax took a second one from the wall

and tested the handles. He huffed out a frustrated breath at the shabby

state of the rope but started to use it anyway.

Noah had tried to ignore him, but Jax moved so fast that Noah

found himself wanting to compete. He picked up his pace, and they

found a rhythm together, the slap-slapping of the ropes hitting the

concrete floor matched by the slight squeaks from their shoes as they

found purchase.

After several minutes, Noah was a sweaty mess. His breath came

in harsh pants and his feet began to miss their steps. He stumbled over

the rope and stopped, resting his hands on his knees. Jax stopped also,

and Noah was relieved to see that he was struggling to breathe as well.

When Jax looked like he was going to speak, Noah hung his rope back

up and went over to the weights.

The guy was unshakable. He followed Noah to the bench and

spotted while Noah pressed the heavy barbell up and down. He leaned

over and Noah couldn’t help but stare at his crotch in his loose, black

boxing shorts. There was a nice size bulge in them and Noah felt a

stirring of his own that he tried to ignore. He looked away and

concentrated on counting his reps, but his eyes kept drifting back to

that one spot where he shouldn’t be fixated.

When he finished his first set of presses, Noah sat up and rested

his arms. Jax came around and Noah did the polite thing and gave up

his seat to him. Jax laid back and got ready to do his exercise then

watched Noah expectantly. Noah held back a sigh and took his turn at

spotting. Of course, the position put his groin in the same position and

Jax definitely noticed. He licked his lips a bit and Noah pretended that

the gesture didn’t mean anything.

“We going bigger?” Jax asked when he’d finished.

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 68

“Yeah.” Noah grabbed another large weight off the stand and

brought it over to the equipment. After loading it on and tightening

the bolts to secure it, he returned to his spot and started his next set.

Jax again stood at his head, but this time he seemed to be just a little

closer. Noah couldn’t tear his gaze away and when that bulge jerked

and grew bigger, he fumbled the bar and nearly crushed himself. Jax

grabbed it and helped Noah guide it back to the rest.

Noah covered his slip by wiping his hands on his shorts. “Sorry.

My hands were sweaty.”

“You should be more careful,” Jax said with a wink.

Noah could feel a blush forming and tried to fight it. Jax came

around to his side and ran a finger down Noah’s arm. “Nice ink,” he

whispered as he touched the lines of Noah’s tattoo.

“Thanks.” Noah searched the room and realized that the other

guys had left. He felt more exposed than he had just moments before

knowing they were alone.

Jax traced the lines of the woman on Noah’s arm before asking,

“Who is she?”

No one had asked him before and Noah didn’t want to answer.

The tattoo looked like a woman in old-fashioned clothes. She wore a

big brimmed hat and resembled a southern belle. “My sister,” Noah

finally replied.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, she was.” Every time Noah remembered Natalie, he got

this big lump in his throat. The tattoo honored her in the only way he

knew how, especially since he couldn’t really talk about her to

anyone. She was the only family he had, and now she was gone. The

medical treatments she’d needed were so expensive that he’d taken a

loan from Mr. Salvatore to pay for what she had to have, but they

didn’t work and he’d lost her anyway. And now he was trapped here,

paying off a seemingly endless debt with his fists.

“I’m sorry.”

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 69

Everyone always said that, Noah thought, but the words didn’t

help. “I’m going to go shower. I’ll see you around.” This time, Jax

didn’t follow.

Noah pushed the memory aside and forced his attention back to

the empty locker room where they now stood. Again that spark

between them burned brightly. Jax looked Noah up and down and

Noah felt a surge of something in his belly that he hadn’t felt in a long

time. Noah gave him a little nod and looked away, uncomfortable

with the intensity of his stare.

“You ready to fight?” Jax asked, stepping back into Noah’s field

of vision.

“Yeah,” Noah answered. “Gonna be a good one.”

Jax snorted. “Not if you don’t get that right arm up. The

Terminator has a wicked left hook and you’re dropping that side.” He

took a practice swing at Noah, who jerked back and nearly tripped.

“What the hell?” Jax jumped forward and grabbed Noah by the arms

to steady him.

Noah shook out of his hold. “Back off, man” He hated showing

his weakness in front of anyone, but he hadn’t been expecting that

swing. His mind was focused a little further south. Jax pulled him in

closer and when Noah tried to look away, he pulled his head up so

their eyes met.

“Fuck. What’s wrong with your eye?”

Noah flinched and tried to pull away. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Jax ran his thumb over Noah’s cheek. “You aren’t fine.”

Noah couldn’t afford to let the other guys know about him. He

wasn’t quite sure how Jax had figured it out so fast. Maybe that’s

where his nickname came from. Weren’t Jackals known for having

good instincts or something?

Before Noah could think of a response, he heard more footsteps in

the hall. Heavy and slow, with a distinctive click, Noah realized the

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 70

boss was on his way down. He jerked away from Jax and spun around

to face the hook that served as his locker.

Mr. Salvatore’s slick black boots appeared at Noah’s side. One

meaty mitt clapped down on Noah’s left shoulder and he tried not to

flinch as the boss gave his muscle a tight squeeze. His guard went

over to Jax and crossed his arms. “Out,” he demanded.

Jax nodded and left. No one questioned the boss or his goons, not

if they knew what was good for them. The guard followed him to the

door and left Noah and the boss alone. “Big fight tonight, boy.”

“Yes, sir. I’m ready.”

“You better be. I’ve got a lot riding on this one. In fact, that’s

what I’m here for. Got a job for you.”

Noah lowered his head and held back a sigh. He knew what was

coming. “Yes, sir.”

“Third round, you go down and don’t get back up. Make it look

good.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked to throw a fight. Mr.

Salvatore liked to know where he was going to make his money for

each of the events he hosted.

“You got it, boss.” Noah knew it was pointless to argue.

“That’s my boy.” Mr. Salvatore patted his face and smirked. “You

do it right and it’ll be 5 g’s off what you owe me.”

Damn. Five grand for one fight would be his best payout yet.

Problem was, he wasn’t sure he could last three rounds against his

opponent. He’d planned on getting in and getting out fast, using his

speed to his advantage in the first round or two. The Terminator was

known for his stamina, taking fights low and slow and wearing his