Page 22 of Protective Biker
They walk out into the main club area, where everyone is impatiently waiting for the fight to begin. Ripper in front and Angel behind, both repping our new club colors. The scent of old, spilled booze, various cleaners mixed with bleach, and cologne or perfume all hit me at once. These places always stink, yet somehow people don’t seem to realize it when they’re too busy drinking and dancing. Blood and sweat will mingle with the other scents tonight, along with the leather and smoke from the various brothers. You should see outside, it looks like we’re at a mini biker rally, so many have shown up to support and cut loose.
Neon lights are everywhere, it seems, the colors shining over random spots. The speaker system is turned up, blasting out rock music, while the spectators chant our names. An MC randomly shouts out shit on his microphone to get people more amped up, not that they need it with how loud it already is. As we finally leave the back area and make our way to where people can see us, noisy cheers and whistles go out, as everyone already knows what’s coming.
I can’t believe how packed this place is. If the cops show up, no one is getting out of here without being trampled. The owner will surely be fined one hefty ass sum, luckily they’ve already made a grip with the door and beer fees. Hopefully, if law enforcement does show, it’s someone we’re cool with, so we don’t head to jail tonight as well.
My opponents tonight are stupid. They have no idea how much I want this, and when it comes to Raven, I have no limits. I’ll do anything for her. Anything. Including beating men nearly to death to pay for her surgeries. The medical system has failed her. The dance community has failed her.
I’m not a fucking failure.
I bump my fists against Prez’s and Angel's, then make my way inside the roped-off portion designated for the fight. This isunderground fighting; there are no licensed officials or anything of the sort. Just me and some others willing to pound on each other, with a couple of refs in place to call it like they see it. The ropes are pulled tight and attached to tall, massive pillars that run through the middle of the club. It’s like they tried to make this place fancier than it should be, and now we’re using the uppity architecture design as a makeshift ring, trapping us inside to brawl it out.
The rules are limited.No weapons.The main one?No liability.Meaning if you die, you die silently. No one goes down for shit. That being said, there’s a ton of betting going on. Heads get hot, and it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for things to become heated, for clubs to begin fighting as well. Like I mentioned, the owner is making bank tonight, or he wouldn’t be doing this. Being patched to the Oath Keeper’s MC now comes with a whole new sense of pride and privilege, as no one is stupid enough to challenge a club full of Nomads and brawlers.
We’d fuck them up badly.
My first opponent of the night comes out from the back, Ford, a former professional MMA fighter. He once went up against the champion, Jace ‘The King’ Cash, and got his ass beat. He fell out after the loss, found an MC to join, and has been fighting underground ever since. I’d been eyeing him up for a while, noting his weaknesses, and like Prez said, I’ve got this one. I’ve also metThe Kingbefore in passing. He’s a fellow Texan, and when you’re into fighting like we are, you eventually run into the same people. He was a nice guy, not conceited or a hothead like most would be, especially given his status.
Ford glowers at me as he enters the roped-off portion, staying in the opposite corner. “Ready to die?” He asks, stupid enough to think it’ll intimidate me. I’ve been doing this for too long and have faced way too many assholes to allow a little threat to shake me where I stand.
Fuck him.
I’m going to hit him in his mouth just for saying that shit.
I spit out my mouth guard, momentarily sending him a wide smile. Raising my hands out to each side of me, showing off my wide wingspan, I taunt, “Come to Daddy, pumpkin.” I do the come here motion with my hands before stuffing my mouthpiece back between my bite. My muscles jump as they flex with my movements, my adrenaline building in anticipation of hitting this jerk's face in front of me.
My name is chanted even louder coming from the left, so I glance over, finding my brothers. I send up a fist to them, silently thanking them for their support and acknowledging my club’s presence. Next, my eyes momentarily lock on my sweet dancer, right smack in the middle of the club, surrounded by the other ol’ ladies.
I can’t hold back, hell, I don’t want to. The entire world needs to know how crazy obsessed I am with this woman.“I love you.”
She signs back,“I love you more. Please win.”
“I’m gonna fuck your bitch, after I put you to sleep,” Ford screams across the area. It’s enough to send me into a rage. Who the fuck does he think he is, being disrespectful by talking about Raven like that? You want to be a dick to me? Fine, but the moment you speak ill towards her, it’s over.
“Get over here, motherfucker,” I grit and as soon as I’m close enough, land a punch to his smug fucking face.
His hands shoot up attempting to block another hit, and his knee rises, getting me on the side of my thigh. It’s hard enough to make me grunt, and my responding fist finds his ribs. I hit him there in quick succession, until I feel them break against my knuckles.
Somehow, Ford manages to get off the rope and spins around with a flying elbow. He’s sloppy, too slow, and I catch it.My grip on his arm tightens as I twist until I hear a very audible snap. His scream follows up the broken bone, as he instantly shifts his body to the side to protect the useless limb.
“Not done yet,” I growl, swiftly reaching around and grabbing his injured arm and yanking, punching down on the top of his shoulder to knock it out of place. I’m not here for a clean brawl; we don’t do that in these fights. Tonight, he’s going to hurt,ifhe survives.
Rage burns in his eyes as he roars in pain and anger, charging me. He goes for my middle, and I lean over his back, wrapping my arms around his body to hold him in place. I’m working on my stance to pick him up and body slam him, when he takes advantage of the position, rearing back and headbutting me with the back of his head. He knocks my chin so hard, I momentarily see stars.
In my stupor, he drives his head forward, headbutting me again with the front of his forehead. The impact slams into my nose, blood spraying everywhere. I know it must be broken again. Damn it.
It’s enough to shake me from the brief stupor and shift me back into gear. Blood flows down my face, coating my lips and chin to drip down my chest. Some in the crowd scream, while others cheer, but none of it matters. Only the asshole in front of me who has most likely frightened my woman, now on top of disrespecting her. I’m so done playing with him.
Jolting forward, I slam my head into his nose, matching his move. I lean back with a bloody, taunting smile, “My turn, fucker.” I wrap my arms around him and switch to my knees. I bring them up in quick succession, the harsh clap of muscle meeting skin and bone on his thighs until he’s fighting to get away from me, and I eventually release him.
He falls to the ground, the impact on his legs, making them cramp up in pain, momentarily useless. He’s smart enough toroll onto his back in defense, to keep his legs raised as much as he can to try and ward me off as I pace around him in a circle, looking for my in with him. Each lunge I take forward, he locks up, trying to kick me. It reminds me of a lion, strolling in a circle, patiently waiting for the right time to strike, and fill his belly.
Finally, something catches Ford’s attention, it’s a brief moment in time, but just enough of a fuck up for me to shove his leg to the side and scoot in. I leap on top of his body, my thick tree trunk-like thighs straddling his frame, holding him in place, and then it’s game over.
Blow after blow.
Left to right.
I hit him, again and again.
