Page 16 of Sold to the Fighter

I walk around the man, keeping my expression straight. “Tell me why you have your fucking belt in your hand, trying to whip my woman,” I grit out, trying my best to hold down the urge to slam a punch into his face.

His face twists with a sneer as he lowers his hand. “Yourwoman? What right do you have to call her yours?” he snaps.

My fists bunch at his words. I move closer to Grace, taking in her posture, then I look back at the asshole. “Who the fuck are you, and what the hell are you doing in my house?” I ask.

The man snickers, and all I want to do is beat him to a pulp. Still, I wait.

“Abel Atkins,” he says, like I’m supposed to know who the fuck he is. He must see my expression, because his mouth curls bitterly. “The father of the whore sitting at your feet. I’m here to take her back home with me.”

My vision blurs as a dark rage overshadows my senses.

No one calls my girl a whore.

I growl low in my throat, taking a threatening step toward the bastard. I’m suddenly stopped by a gentle grip to my ankle. I glance down, my gaze clashing with Grace’s pleading eyes.

“Please…” she whispers, tears spilling down her beautiful face.

I grit my jaw hard as I see the red print on her face. I push down the urge to break all of her father’s limbs. “Grace is going nowhere with you. She’s mine, and I intend to protect her as long as I live,” I say with a raised brow.

The words come to me as easy as breathing. I don’t have to think about it. It’s something I’ve known since I’ve met her. Her father scoffs at my words. “Words from the devil himself. The creator of all evil. You’re going to burn and perish in hell. Both of you,” he spits.

“You know what? I’ve had enough. I want you off my property right now, or I’ll call the cops,” I threaten.

His eyes widen slightly before his face takes on a sick look of delight. “You want to call the cops on me? Have you forgotten who you are and what you do for a living, Theo Kane?”

His smile widens. “Yes, I know about you. An underground fighter, popular for leaving his opponents brutally injured or dead. I’ve done my research, and I know what you do is illegal. Why don’t you call the cops, let’s see who’ll be in trouble?”

His voice lowers as his eyes turn crazed with fanaticism. “But God is on your side, you see—if you let my daughter come with me, then I can stay quiet about your unclean activities. As men we have to cover for one another, don’t we?”

At his distasteful words, my heart goes out to Grace. I’ve only spent a few minutes with her father and I want to rough him up. I can’t imagine living years under his thumb and still turning out as angelic and graceful as she has. The more I watch Abel talk, the more recognizable he becomes to me. I never forget a face, and I’ve been trying to place his from the moment I set eyes on him.

It suddenly comes to me.

“You know, come to think of it,” I start in a soft but steely tone, “you remind me of a particular rowdy man in the underground. Flashy, always throwing money around. It’s you, isn’t it? I don’t know why I didn’t recognize your face immediately, seeing as you’re well-known among the women, for assault. You cover your tracks with money, but you sure are on your way to hell with the rest of us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but I can see the smugness in his eyes faltering.

My smile turns cold. “I’m throwing your threat back at you. How about I call the cops and let’s see who gets locked up? A man who flaunts his money, dealing drugs and assaulting women, or a popular fighter who’s known for his contributions to the city. No one cares about how I make a living, nor do I care about my reputation. You, on the other hand, have a reputation to uphold, or would you rather I leak your clandestine anduncleanactivities to your church?”

“Y-you have no evidence,” Abel stutters, his eyes darting around.

“Why don’t you try me?”

After a few seconds of weighing his options, he says, “This is not the end. The lord will surely punish you for your transgressions.”

In one quick step, I grab him by his lapel, pulling him close until our noses are inches apart. “Not before he strikes you down, asshole.”

I snap my hand back and punch him square in the face, smiling in satisfaction at the stream of blood that trickles from his nose. “That’s for hitting Grace in the face,” I say harshly. “The next time I get a whiff of you around this place or you as much as breathe the same air as Grace, I’ll ruin you,” I vow, then push him away from me.

“You won’t get away with this,” Abel threatens before slinking out of the house.

I slam the door behind him, not giving him or his words a second thought. Instead, I bend to pick Grace up, and her arms immediately circle my neck.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly as I head toward the staircase.

She nods softly. “Why did you punch him?” she asks.

“He deserved it, sweetheart. He put his hands on you. The only reason I let him go without more damage is because you don’t want him hurt.” I walk down the hallway to my bedroom, open the door and enter, pushing it closed with my leg. I place her gingerly at the center of the bed and I go into the bathroom to soak a towel in warm water. As I return, I climb in beside her and slowly dab the warm towel against her red cheek.

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