Page 1 of Blast from the Past

Chapter One

Shane Blake

I can feel the crowd. Their excitement is palpable in the air as I stand in the octagon facing yet another opponent. The heat is stifling, the noise deafening. For normal people, this would be overwhelming, but for me, it’s just another day at the office. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Taking a deep breath, I zone out everything around me focusing only on the man before me. He is shorter than I am but in every other sense, we are evenly matched. People have been talking about this fight for the past two weeks, saying it was going to be a knockdown, drag-out fight. That’s not going to happen tonight.

The referee speaks to us, but I don’t hear a word. It doesn’t matter anyway, I know the rules. Stepping back to my corner, I wait for the bell to sound so I can take this guy down and get my money. He glares at me, rolling his shoulders, trying to make himself look bigger and tougher than he is. I smirk in return. Nothing gets to an opponent quite as much as my nonchalant attitude about their supposed talents.

The tips of his ears redden as his temper spikes, and I know I have won this fight before it even starts. The bell sounds and my opponent charges. His maneuver is easily dodged. I wait for him to turn around and charge at me again because as sure as shit that’s what he is going to do. When I dodge this time, I kick out at his left knee and send him to the ground. The moment he is down I jump on him raining blows like my life depends on it.

The sound of flesh on flesh is both disturbing and calming. This is my world, my peace, the way I release all stress from everything in my life. He tries to maneuver out from beneath me, wriggling and trying to throw me off. But I have the upper hand and land a second flurry of blows using my elbow.I feel his nose give way beneath my violent ministrations and know that he is done. He is out cold.

The referee lifts my hand in the air when I stand.

“Winner by knockout,” he yells over the crowd. “Shane ‘The Rage’ Blake.”

I don’t preen in the ring. I nod at the referee and my trainer before walking through the gate and forcing my way to the back. Sweaty bodies are pressed together and even with my bulk it is hard to force my way through.

Sixteen wins. Zero losses. Not a bad record if I say so myself. And a good way to get rid of all my pent-up frustration. Charlotte, the mother of my unborn child, is working on my last goddamn nerve. And this is certainly a better way to deal with my anger than to actually try and talk shit through.

I know that sounds counterintuitive but every time we talk, we only fight. She doesn’t want the baby and has made that clear but the least she could do is try to ensure the health and safety of our unborn child.

My mind is already thinking through all my problems, work-related shit, and the rankings, figuring out who my next opponent will be. My complete preoccupation with my shit show of a life is why I don’t see the woman before it is too late. With the crowd pushing and shoving in their overexcitement, she ends up directly in my path. On her knees.

For the longest moment, I stare down at what is surely a fallen angel. Black hair, porcelain skin, large brown eyes, and lips painted a shade of red I am sure would look perfect smeared around my fat cock. Reaching down, I grab her under her arms and help her up.

Another body collides with her, sending her crashing into my sweat-covered chest. Her curves fit perfectly along every hard line of my body, and I feel my cock thicken in my shorts. Anger rushes through me. Not five seconds ago I was thinking ofCharlotte and our child, and now all I can think of is stripping and mounting the curvy minx in my arms. I’m a fucking bastard.

Her eyes widen before she smirks.

“Great fight, Shay.” Her husky voice washes over me. “Maybe next time you should let the other guy land a punch?”

“Don’t call me that.” My voice comes out all raspy.

I hate that fucking nickname. No one calls me that. Except for Mercy. The problem isn’t my dislike of the nickname but the fact that I like it too much. But this fucking girl has always had that effect on me. Turning me inside out with nothing but a smile.

“See you around, big guy.” Standing on her tiptoes she places a kiss on my cheek before turning and walking away.

I watch her leave, my gaze glued to the perfect curve of her ass. Her black skirt is the perfect length to entice men to madness but not so short that it makes her look slutty. What I wouldn’t give to flip that fabric over those globes and lose myself in her.

The moment she is out of view I snap back to reality and continue my journey back to the changing rooms. People try to stop me to talk about the fight, but I have zero patience left after my run-in with Mercy. All I want is to shower, get my money, and go home.

****

Mercy West

Fuck me.

Shane Blake is a real man—the kind other men aspire to be, and women would do anything to get a piece of. Trust me, I know. I’ve been trying to get his attention since I was sixteen years old. I haven’t seen him in more than five years, and he has become a fine specimen. His body is ridiculous from allthe training he must do. Muscles and tattoos as far as the eye can see. His dark hair is cropped short like always. His slate-gray eyes have always had a way of seeing right into my soul and leaving me feeling vulnerable. And from the bulge he had pressed to my stomach earlier, I know he is big all over.

I grew up next door to the Blake brothers. When we were little, I was one of them. Climbing trees, skinning knees, and just causing general mayhem. But then we all grew up. Shane was my first crush, first love, and first heartbreak all rolled into one. All in the space of a single year.

When he wouldn’t give me the time of day, I tried to make him jealous. Other boys were interested in me, but I could never get him to see me that way. After a while, all the Blake boys started treating me differently and soon we had all drifted apart.

We were still part of each other’s lives, though, and they always had my back. When my prom date made me cry, Wesley, the oldest Blake brother, broke his nose. When my mom died, they were all there at the funeral, Adam, the youngest brother, holding my hand. When I decided to move to the city, they helped me load the truck.

Growing up in a small town like Severn is both a blessing and a curse. Everyone knows each other, their histories, families, everything. So, you always have support when you need it, but you also always have people putting their noses where they don’t belong.

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