Redemption (21 page)

“No he didn’t.” Lucky squirmed, fighting for air in Bo’s too-tight hold.

Eventually Bo eased his grip. “After I got busted I swore I’d be a new man. Not the hard bastard my father is. I went vegetarian, started running. Told myself I’d show them all. Dad, Darren…”

Darren? Oh, yeah. The boyfriend. “You don’t have to show them anything. The only one you gotta worry about is you.” Together they sank down to the mat, clinging to each other. “Listen Bo, what happened can’t be undone, but if you let it control your life, change who you are, the bastards win.”

Bo raised a weary gaze to meet Lucky’s. “Why are you so calm about this? He screwed you over too. Because of him good men are dead. He shot his father. Tried to have Victor killed. Might have succeeded.”

If Lucky dwelled too long on the past, his head might explode. He gave his best feral grin. “Getting mad is a waste of time. I plan to get even.”

“It’s wrong to hate. Hate destroys the soul.”

There Bo went, sounding like a textbook again. “It’s human, Bo. Guess what? You’re human. You don’t get to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders or save us all from ourselves. You’re not perfect.”

“You son of…”

“Shh…” Lucky stripped off his gloves and cradled Bo’s head in his hands. “It’s okay to not be perfect. As bad as you are now, can you imagine how insufferable you’d be?” Lucky forced a grin and a shudder.

Which earned him a watery laugh. “We certainly wouldn’t have much in common, then, would we?”

“Hey, now!” Lucky’s pretended offense crumbled. Bo had fought, gotten angry, and hadn’t turned into a monster. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“In the ring, you didn’t lose control, you gained control. You focused. I mean, you got mad, you hit like you meant it, but at no time were you a threat to me or anyone else. You were always you.”

All emotion fled Bo’s normally expressive face. He stared at Lucky, mouth hanging open. “I didn’t hurt you?”

Lucky bit back a yelp when Bo probed what had to be a nasty bruise forming on his jaw. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

Bo shook his head.

Lucky bit his lip to keep from crying out. “Yeah, you hurt me. You’re one hell of a fighter.”

“See, I told you—”

“We were fighting. I took a hit or two. But you didn’t go off your rocker. You held it together.” Tonight’s agenda: hot bath, ibuprofen, heating pad… But he wasn’t damaged… much.

And he’d call in sick tomorrow.

“I’m always so afraid that one day I’ll turn into my father.” The dam broke. Sobs wracked Bo’s body. Lucky held tight.

“Let go. Get it out of your system. It’s gonna be all right.” Lucky peered over Bo’s shoulders. “You’re not your father. Will never be him. You’ve got goodness in you that won’t let you cross the line.”

Johnson nodded toward Bo and mimicked putting a phone to her ear, with her thumb and little finger.

Lucky nodded. If he needed her, he’d call, but he’d try not to need her. Tears soaked Lucky’s T-shirt. He stripped off the soggy cotton to wipe Bo’s face.

“I’m a mess, ain’t I?” Bo’s half-hearted smile fell short of sincere.

“But you’re my mess.” Lucky busied himself removing Bo’s gloves.

So many thoughts likely churned in Bo’s brain. If Lucky could turn them all off and give the man a moment’s peace, he’d do it. “Stop thinking so hard. Accept that you’re not broken, and that I love you. I’m here for you.” Had Lucky really said something so sappy? For good measure, he added, “You cantankerous pain in the ass.”

Bo barked a laugh. “Takes one to know one. Now, let’s go home and practice that pain in the ass stuff. Then, I need a nap.”

“Well, look at the little faggots getting all lovey-dovey.” Two men stood outside the ring, one wearing a nasty sneer.

Bo tensed. “C’mon up and say that again in the ring.”

“Don’t think I won’t!”

Lucky jumped to his feet. Bo grabbed his arm and pulled up. “He’s mine.”

The guy glanced from Lucky to Bo, choosing which “faggot” he stood a better chance of beating, no doubt.

“No, Bo. Let me do this.” Bo had just been through enough. Time for Lucky to let off steam.

“Aww… isn’t that sweet. Protecting your teary-eyed boyfriend.” That bigot had a bruising coming.

The guy from the front desk came flying across the floor and skidded to a halt a few feet away. “Sorry, man,” he said to Lucky. “It’s one o’clock. I had to open the doors.” Damn, the guy did more than sit on a stool and play with his cell phone. Would miracles never cease? To the bigot, he said, “You know the rules, Trevor. Fights outside the ring will cost you your membership.”

Trevor grinned and stepped into the ring. “I’ll take on both you candy-asses.”

“You’ll fight by the rules or your ass is out of here.” Lobby Boy cracked his knuckles. “And only if they agree.”

“Me and him.” Bo nodded at his would-be opponent.

Oh hell. Lucky should be the one to teach the asshole a lesson. “You don’t have to do this.”

“That’s up to me. And I say I do.” The determined set of Bo’s jaw said there’d be no talking him off this ledge. “You referee.”

“Oh hell no,” the bigot yelled. “Alan here will referee. Won’t ya, Alan?”

“Your cousin isn’t getting that honor,” Lobby Boy said. “He cheats as bad as you do. I’ve got to watch the front, but I’ll send someone. No hitting till they get here.”

The guy cheated. And he was going to fight Bo.

Bo clenched his fists. “You need time to warm up?”

“To whoop a pansy like you? As if!”

The asshole deserved what he’d soon get. “Are you sure about this?” Lucky should be the one dishing out the punishment; he shook with the need.

Bo’s death glare never wavered. “I’m sure.”

A mountain of muscles trod across the floor toward the ring, at a slow, practiced rate. Crooked nose, messed up ears, sleeve tats. “Badass” pulsed from the man like sonar. The vision of how Bo might look in a few years if he allowed Cyrus to take over.

Lucky recognized the walking mountain from the picture in the lobby. Sonny. A former heavyweight contender and owner of the gym. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right. Go gear up.”

Neither fighter moved.

“My rules, or this doesn’t happen.” Most likely, not too many people ignored Sonny’s commands.

Bo held his ground until the piece of shit bigot left the ring first. Point in his favor. Only then did Bo trudge to the front desk for a helmet and teeth guard. “I gotta protect the family jewels,” he said, and headed into the locker room to don groin protection.

When he returned, Lucky began wrapping Bo’s hands, but the referee waved him aside. “Here, I’ll do it.”

“Now wait a minute…” The guy’s sure, steady movements shut Lucky’s mouth. Now wasn’t the time to let pride stand in the way of Bo doing his best. If his hands weren’t properly wrapped, he’d break bones. This wasn’t Bo and Lucky sparring. Bo played for keeps this time. He flexed his fingers a few times and slid his hands into the gloves.

As confidently as he’d wrapped Bo’s hands, the guy secured the gloves. The whole time the man spoke to Bo, too softly for Lucky to hear the words, but Bo nodded a time or two, and shook his head as often.

Sonny strapped on Bo’s headgear and marched back toward the ring. Homophobic Asshole was already there, shadowboxing and in general looking like an overconfident moron.

Bo didn’t put on airs. He strolled to the ring and climbed through the ropes.

Sonny joined him a moment later. “I won’t ask you to shake hands, but on the count of three, I want a clean fight.”

Bo nodded. The Asshole sneered.

The referee one-upped him. “Either you agree or you get out of this gym.”

“Okay.”

“One, two…”

The Asshole drove an uppercut toward Bo’s chin.

“Hey!” Lucky shouted, ready to dive through the ropes.

The referee brought the whistle up to his lips and stopped.

Bo ducked, the blow missed. The asshole’s momentum spun him around. Bo knocked the guy down with no effort at all.

Instead of going in for the kill, Bo bounced in place.

Slowly the asshole regained his feet, his cockiness returning. He had a good two inches on Bo and a longer reach, but overconfidence handicapped a fighter. And the guy had no idea of Bo’s fighting skills.

Bo smiled, and it wasn’t pretty. Wolves probably smiled like that before bringing down an unsuspecting goat.

“Your move, asswipe.” The words came out garbled around his teeth guard. Was that really Bo? It didn’t sound like Cyrus either. Oh hell. Don’t say there was yet another person living inside Lucky’s man. Two was enough.

The guy led with his left. Bo stepped aside, he didn’t fight back. Why didn’t Bo hit? The guy was wide open!

“What’s wrong? Afraid to hit the faggot?” Bo’s grin stuck fear even into Lucky’s heart.

Lucky grabbed a towel out of a guy’s hand, ready to toss it in the ring and end the fight.

The referee’s glower made him step back. “Have a little faith.”

The asshole’s left hook grazed Bo’s arm.

Bo threw back his head and laughed. Laughed! “What’s wrong? Got
fairy
dust in your eyes?”

The guy swung again, losing form by overreaching. Bo tapped him on the exposed shoulder and hopped out of reach.

Anger made the guy stupid. He drove in, jabbing blindly.

Bo shielded each blow, bobbing and weaving.

The guy huffed and puffed. Bo wasn’t breathing hard at all. He was… fucking magnificent. All cool confidence.

The guy punched again, weaker now.

Bo wasn’t going to fight him. He planned to tire the guy out. A fair fight, no matter who won, was still a fight. He’d take the man down without a single punch.

A crowd gathered around the ring. Lucky flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder. “Hey!”

Loretta Johnson stood behind him. “I came back to make sure y’all were okay.”

Together they stared at the ring, watching as Bo swayed and ducked another punch. Fancy footwork put him out of reach time and again.

“Have you had enough?” Bo asked. “Me and my candy-ass boyfriend have plans this afternoon.”

The guy roared and charged.

Bo grabbed him in a bear hug, pinning his arms to this sides. “Aww… I didn’t know you cared.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on the man’s nose.

The referee didn’t do a good job of hiding a laugh behind a cough.

No matter how hard the guy struggled, Bo kept him captive.

Loretta handed Lucky a cold pack. “I’d use this on my jaw if I were you. Be a shame to mess up that purdy face.”

Lucky scowled but held the offering up to his abused flesh. Ah. Nice. Not that he’d tell her.

For five more minutes the guy who probably wished he’d kept his mouth shut chased Bo around the ring.

Then Bo spun. All traces of humor drained from his face. The subtle shift of weight gave warning enough of attack—a warning Mouthy Homophobe didn’t heed.

Wham!
Bo’s right hook reeled the man backwards.
Wham!
Bo’s uppercut drove the guy into the ropes.

The pitiful excuse for an opponent staggered back to the center of the ring, showing more stupidity than sense. He’d stumbled straight into Bo’s glove.

Right, left, right. Damned fast punches.

Sweat poured off the guy. His eyes lost focus and he fell to his knees.

One more jab and Bo rolled him over.

The man on the mat groaned but stayed flat on his back. The referee held Bo’s arm above his head.

“Now, let that be a lesson to you. Everybody’s welcome in this gym unless I say otherwise.” Sonny pointed at the guy on the mat. “Trevor, your membership is revoked. Antagonizing other members is against rules. And don’t ever fuck with a Marine!”

He yanked the neck of his tank top down, revealing a “Semper Fi” tattoo on his right pec. Lucky hid a smile.

By ones and twos, the crowd began to amble away.

“Wait a second, honeys. I think you boys owe me something.” Johnson grinned and held out her hand. Several men grumbled while piling tens on her outstretched palm. Lucky scowled.

“What? I deserve something for my trouble since I left such a thrilling existence to come here and watch boring old boxing.” She faked a yawn, folded the bills, and tucked them into her cleavage. “Want it, come get it. And I’m warning you, the girls bite.” To Lucky she whispered, “This’ll buy a nice housewarming gift.”

Lucky wouldn’t put it past her to wear a razor wire bra. “Thanks for coming.” Speaking too low for anyone else to hear didn’t make him a coward. Or ungrateful. Just… Lucky. He slipped the ice pack into the dirty T-shirt he’d balled up in his hand.

“C’mon. Let’s get out of here.” Bo wrapped one arm around Lucky’s shoulders and the other around Johnson’s. “I’ve got Sunday dinner to cook. Wanna join us?” He turned to face Johnson.

“Thanks, but I’ve got someone coming over. Raincheck?”

“Sure. And Loretta?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” The eye contact they shared might mean Bo thanked her for more than merely showing up today.

“Anytime.” Johnson patted the spot between her breasts where she’d hidden the money. “You’re good for my bank account.” She sashayed away, drawing appreciative stares from a few of the men she’d bet against. They must like dangerous living. One wrong look and she’d rip their arm off and shove it down their throat.

Bo didn’t take his arm from around Lucky on the way through the gym, and Lucky didn’t ask him to. If someone else didn’t like it, well, it was Lucky’s turn to teach a lesson. And unlike Bo’s reserved approach, Lucky would vent his spleen on some deserving shithead.

Lucky paused long enough to strip the gear off Bo and discard the items in a bin by the door. He’d remove the groin guard later, in private.

“Come back anytime,” Sonny said. He leaned against the front counter next to the attendant, who bore a striking, if somewhat smaller, resemblance. “If you need a sparring partner, I wouldn’t mind going a few rounds.” His open smile stamped the invitation genuine.

“I might take you up on it.” Bo swatted his middle. “Seems I’ve let myself go lately.” He glanced over at Lucky.