Chapter 7

Jack

Though my opponent had taken to stomping wherever he walked, I strolled as coolly as a spring breeze. I was in no hurry to break his teeth, nor was I in any hurry to have him pound on my already tender bruises. There wasn't any way in hell this wannabe bad boy was a legitimate threat, and I was happy to take my time and enjoy the ride. It wasn't every day I got to fight for such a valuable prize.

Once we were outside, I pulled a smoke from my shirt pocket and lit up, leaning against the grimy back wall of the bar and waiting for everyone to assemble in the parking lot. If it were a paid fight, this would usually be the time people started to make bets. Me and my opponent would glare at each other for a couple of minutes first to build the tension and make the crowd sweat. In this case, I just wanted to enjoy my smoke first.

"You sure you want to do this?" I asked Donnie, who had taken to pacing a few feet ahead of me.

"You want to back out, big guy?" jeered one of his friends, a short balding guy in a plaid jacket.

"You're all talk, aren't you? It's just a show so chicks think you're bad ass," another added.

I chuckled, smoke billowing from my lips. Other than that, I paid no mind to Donnie's friends. I was out here to fight him, and the rest of them may as well have not existed as far as I was concerned. This was between me and this churlish asshole, who was looking more unhinged by the second.

"What's the matter with you, anyway?" I asked him, waving my smoke in the air for emphasis. "You've got a beautiful girl, real nice too, and you treat her like shit. What's that about?" I took another inhale while he glared at me, his friends shouting at me to shut the fuck up and at him to kick my face in.

"Is it because she's too good for you?" I continued. "Everybody can see that, you must be able to too. She's way too good for you so you gotta keep her down to feel better about yourself. I bet that's it." I grinned. "Am I close?"

In my life I had seen a great many angry men. I'd fought a great many angry men. But never, never had I seen someone quite so infuriated as Donnie was just after I insulted him. He didn't lunge at me, which was what I half-expected him to do. I hoped for it too, since an emotional attack is always the easiest to defend against if you could anticipate it was coming. But Donnie didn't lunge, he stood there and bared his teeth at me like a wild animal, face so bright and red you could have fried an egg on it.

I quickly surmised that Donnie knew he was no match against me when it came to verbal sparring. His vocabulary obviously fell short somewhere after "I'm going to fucking kill you" and he knew it too, which was why he was letting me rag on him like this. I imagine his plan was to beat the ever living shit out of me to make up for it, but that straight up wasn't going to happen.

I finished my smoke and tossed it on the ground, crunching it against the gravel with my foot. "No matter," I told him. "I'll treat her better than you ever could."

Donnie had had enough. He shot forward, fists first, aiming a blow at my jaw. I easily sidestepped him and he went stumbling past me, throwing his hands out to catch him as his momentum drove him toward the ground.

I knew it was cocky, but I couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't really fair of me to challenge someone so drunk and so inexperienced to a fight, but if anyone deserved a good beating, it was this guy. Anyway, I would let up on him before things went too far. I wasn't out to kill or maim anyone—I just wanted to teach him a lesson.

"You're dead!" he screeched, standing back up and going for me again.

I let him land a blow on my shoulder, countering with an uppercut into his sternum that knocked the air from his lungs. Pain exploded through my shoulder but I gritted my teeth and forced myself back a step, then swung a punch into his jaw.

Donnie staggered back. The crowd was a mix of people cheering for me and cheering for him, though his friends easily drowned out the cheers for me with angry boos.

"That was a dirty hit!" one yelled.

I rolled my eyes but didn't lose focus. I doubted they would be so scrupulous about the rules if it was me bent over, spitting a stream of blood and spit onto the gravel. Some other people in the crowd chorused in in my defense, and considering I was standing there waiting for Donnie to recover, I found the whole thing fairly ridiculous.

"Are you done?" I asked him.

Donnie looked up at me and snarled. "Not even fucking close."

I had to hand it to him—at least he didn't give up that easy. It was probably more to do with the booze and the crowd than anything else. He might not be feeling my hits tonight but he would sure as hell be feeling them in the morning.

"Alright then." I squared up with him, focused on his face over the tops of my fists.

The crowd went wild as we approached each other again. I went in for the first hit, narrowly dodging a shot at my head as I pulled back. Donnie strode forward and let his rage take control. Big mistake.

The Vikings used to send these crazy motherfuckers called berserkers into battle. They'd get them all drugged up and send them off to do their thing, which was basically just scaring the shit out of the other side while in a fury so great that they felt no pain and tore through their enemies like butter.

Donnie came at me like a clumsy berserker. It might have been terrifying if it wasn't so funny. He charged me, teeth gnashing, arms flailing, eyes wide and crazed, and I didn't doubt that he would rip me apart given the chance.

His first mistake, of course, was assuming he would get a chance.

I slipped aside at the last second and landed a kick on his ass that sent him sprawling. My supporters laughed and hooted with joy.

Donnie got up faster this time, turning back to me with fire in his eyes.

The back door squeaked open. I wouldn't have paid it any mind if I didn't recognize the long-limbed brunette running out toward us, an expression of pure horror marring her pretty features.

I smiled at Melissa, a big, white, blood-free smile. It was more than she'd be getting from her boyfriend. Her eyes widened with shock and I recognized a second too late that I'd taken my eyes off of Donnie for too long.

The sucker punch cracked against my jaw and flung my head to one side. I threw up a fist reflexively and managed to catch him in the shoulder, sending him back a couple paces while I recovered.

It was a good punch. Even if he was a shit fighter, the guy could throw a good punch and I'd give him that at least. My split lip opened up again and I wiped it against the back of my hand.

"Stop now!" Melissa called. "This is enough."

I laughed and shook my head.

"Your boyfriend’s determined to make a fool out of himself, sweetheart. Besides, it's in your best interests for me to win."

"Get inside!" Donnie screamed.

I had lost count of how many times tonight he'd pissed me off just by speaking to her.

"What? You're afraid of her seeing you lose?" I taunted. "If you’re nice maybe I’ll help you finish with a little dignity."

Donnie's attention turned straight back to me and he stepped closer, holding his fists up and tracking my movements with his eyes. So, the rage had worn off. He was getting tired now, and in his tiredness he must have realized that he wasn't getting anywhere by attacking me blindly.

"Get him, Donnie!"

"You've got this!"

"Fuck yeah, new guy! Fuck him up!"

This was probably the most exciting thing to happen in Cannon in a long time and the energy was electric. I fed off it, letting it fill me, letting it push me up straighter, hold my hands higher, make my feet lighter.

I was a fighter. And this, this was my ring.

Donnie took the next swing, dodging one I aimed for his head. He nailed me in the ribs and I cried out as agony threatened to overwhelm me. I would be lucky if my cracked rib was still only just cracked.

Donnie took advantage of my pain and hit me in the chin while I was doubled over. I staggered back a couple paces and slammed a cross punch into his jaw. Then I got him with a headshot on the other side. Spit and blood flew into the air and he fell backward, landing with a meaty thunk against the gravel.

I clenched and unclenched my fist, letting the pain of that motion distract me from the searing pain in my side. The sounds of the crowd filtered in, either cheering for Donnie being down or urging Donnie to get back up. It took a second for anyone to notice he'd been knocked out cold.

It was over. Thank fuck. Fighting someone I truly despised was just as draining as it was rewarding, and I needed a good drink and an ice pack or two asap.

"He's out!" someone called. "Fight's over."

People started filtering back inside, a few coming over to clap me on the back as they left. I stood immobile, staring at Donnie's prone figure like he might leap back up and attack me again if I looked away for even a second. I wasn't afraid of him but I didn't trust him, and experience had taught me that assholes like him didn't generally take losing well.

Melissa was at his side the moment he hit the ground, and his friends lingered nearby. I watched his eyes flutter open just as the last of the onlookers disappeared through the back door, and confidently strode toward him.

Melissa, seeing me approach, froze like a deer in the headlights. "Leave him alone," she said, pink coating her cheeks.

"I'm just going to help him up," I assured her.

She nodded and rose to her feet, giving me space to squat down and offer Donnie my hand.

He glared, turning his head to spit on my boots. Where I might've felt a little bad for him before, since he'd just proven to everyone in the bar how pathetic and full of it he was, now I was ready to pull the rug out from under him entirely.

"Have it your way then," I said brightly. "I'll just collect my prize and be on my way."

I stood up and stepped over him, meeting Melissa's eyes.

She had backed against the wall of the building, palms resting on the brick. The air between us felt thick, like slogging through smoke and ash, but I continued forward.

She looked almost like she might run, might dart away like a frightened deer. I wondered if I would chase her.

I had never challenged a guy to a fight over a girl before, but I could see myself fighting for this one over and over again. She stared at me defiantly, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Her beauty and charm would have made her an excellent prize, far better than any of the other ones I'd ever gotten for flinging my fists around, but it was those eyes that made her truly irresistible. She communicated more with one look than some people did in a whole conversation, and I sensed that she took the world in like that too. Those eyes saw everything—for what it was, what it could be, and what it never would be—and I was transfixed.

Too transfixed, as it turned out. I didn't see or hear the guy sneaking up behind me until I felt the glass bottle break on my head and the world around me went dark.