The F King:A Bad Boy Romance(59)

Once they were gone, I stumbled to the freezer to get a couple gel  packs. Then I got myself to the grappling mats, which were about the  softest flat surfaces in the building big enough for me to lie down on.  The lumps on my head told me that I'd been pistol-whipped at least  twice, and the biggest one was probably from the butt of one of those  assault rifles.

When I thought of Skylar, those screams, I wanted to tear my chest open  and rip my heart out so I wouldn't have to feel it anymore. I'd been  fucking and fighting my way through life for so long, I never had time  to think about the possibility of something better being out there, or  what it would feel like to lose it.

Well, now I knew. Skylar was it. She was mine and I swore silently to  myself that, first and foremost, I'd save her if I could, and then I'd  scorch the fucking Earth to cleanse it of every last Picolli or  Bertolini.

Fucking with me was bad enough, but they made their last mistake  bringing Skylar into it. I had to win this fight tomorrow, play humble,  promise to fight for free, all that shit. Whatever it took to get her  out of their clutches.

That was easier said than done, of course. Some people made the argument  that Brenton Southgate was the greatest heavyweight fighter that ever  lived. It was ten years since a then-inexperienced Southgate last lost,  and even that was by split decision. Specifically not by KO or  submission in the first fucking minute of the first round.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I couldn't rely on my conditioning to last until the later rounds, where  I had an advantage over the older fighter. That was one thing Ross and I  had agreed on when it came to this fight at least.

Fuck. Ross was dead.

He was a bit of an asshole sometimes, but he was a coach, a friend, and  the closest thing I ever had to a father figure. I'd pay them back for  him too.

I shook my head and grimaced at the pain the movement brought. Holding  the gel packs more firmly against my head, I forced down thoughts of  Ross. There'd be a time for thinking about him, but everything I had  left needed to be focused on Skylar.

What I needed was an explosive, brutal, knockout right out of the gate.  That might have been easier if I hadn't tipped my hand a little with  that KO against Sanchez. Southgate would have seen it and taken some  time out of his grappling training to dedicate to the striking side of  things in response.

In my mind, I visualized scenario after scenario of the opening minute  of my fight. Every step I could take, every counter-measure he could  take, every way I could get him to expose his head for a knockout.

After a couple of hours, my mind started drifting to what I'd do after  the fight, once I'd got her back. She might not want to see me, now that  she knew a bit more about the real me, but if she was alive then at  least I could have a chance to make her happy again.

Either way, I'd put her in my car and drive until I ran out of gas, then  I'd steal somebody else's car and drive in a different direction until  that one ran out of gas. Then I'd put her on a bus to wherever I could,  from wherever we were, and make my way back to New Ashby to burn the  whole city to the ground if I had to.

One of the guys who came to the gym sometimes was ex-army. He once  dropped the fact that he knew a guy still in the services who was dirty  as fuck and not above supplying military-grade equipment in an  unofficial capacity.

I'd get myself as much as I could afford, and put a mushroom cloud where  that fucking mansion used to be. Of course, I'd make sure Gavino, his  nephew and that piece of shit Renato Picolli weren't in there when I did  it. Oh no. I had some much more invasive plans for them.

First, I'd …

The room on the other side of my closed eyelids brightened up for a  second as daylight flooded in from the door, then went dark again when I  heard it slam shut on its spring. Some motherfucker had ignored the  ‘closed' sign.

Footsteps approached the mats, two sets of them. I didn't bother to open my eyes.

"Gym's closed, fuck off."

"I'm not here for the gym."

I turned my head and opened my eyes to see a big guy in a suit with some  dainty little brunette chick standing next to him. He had the build of a  pretty handy mafia soldier, maybe only a bit smaller than me, but his  suit looked more expensive than the usual fare the low-level guys  dressed themselves in.

What was this cunt doing here? Did Gavino send him to keep me in line?  Make sure I was doing what I was told in the lead up to the fight? The  smoldering embers of anger in my chest began to find fresh fuel.         

     



 

"I don't care what you're here for. Fuck. Off."

The guy looked from me, to the chick and back again. I could see the  tats on his neck, and on his forearm and wrist. He had enough of them  that I thought he must be some low-level guy who had a biggish payday,  and blew his load on some ego-wardrobe.

What that woman was doing here I had no fucking idea. She was in the  later stages of pregnancy too, by the look of things, so this was a  fucking weird place for the Bertolinis to send her. Whatever, it didn't  matter.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked.

I shot to my feet and flung the gel packs, now barely below room  temperature, off to the side. The woman took a half-step back, but the  guy didn't even flinch.

"The last guy who asked me that has to get his mommy to wipe his ass  now. If you wanna fuckin' join him, you've come to the right place,  otherwise listen to me when I tell you this. Fuck. Off."

If this dude didn't leave soon, I was going to bury him on general  principle. He looked unsure of himself for a second, as if this  conversation had gone differently in his head. Big as he was he probably  wasn't used to any arguments. Well, I wasn't like anybody else he ever  met.

"Do you believe in fate?" he asked.

"Are you a fucking monk? Is this a motherfuckin' mountaintop where you  dish out your wisdom? You fucking cunt! Turn your ass around and walk  out that door before I fuck you up in front of your bitch. You tell  Gavino that Southgate's going down. I'm doing my part and I'm coming for  Skylar."

The guy took a deep breath and sighed, a resigned expression crossing  his face before he started taking off his jacket. The caged animal in me  leapt for joy and fresh adrenaline started pumping through my veins.

Another big tough guy who needed to learn that being big wasn't enough  to try to fuck with me. A willing victim to beat the shit out of and let  some of this pressure off. I fuckin' welcomed it.

He handed his jacket to the woman, who looked at him with disbelief. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"He's not going to listen until he's tested me. I know the type, like  the back of my own hand. There's no respect except what you earn with  your fist."

A maniacal grin grew on my face and I flexed my hands, opening and  closing my fists in preparation for a one-sided fight where most of it  was spent with my opponent unconscious.

"Are you serious right now?" she said.

The guy held out his expensive watch to her, which she didn't accept.  Instead she looked back and forth between us with an expression that  said "Men!" as clearly as any words could and threw up her hands.

"Austin. This is Jace Barlow …  your brother. I'm Kendall Barlow. I'm your  sister-in-law. This." She patted her swollen belly. "Is your nephew."

The monster-truck of my anger suddenly found itself in mid-air with no  traction. I looked around, half expecting the host of some practical  jokes TV show to step out of the shadows and point to all the hidden  cameras.

"Fuck …  off."

The words came out on auto-pilot, weaker than before, the wheels of that  monster-truck spinning as the engine redlined. What the fuck was going  on here? I could fight a man, but how was I supposed to fight a  mindfuck?

I took a few steps towards him and his eyes narrowed in concentration,  muscles twitching in readiness for whatever I might do. The woman,  Kendall if she wasn't bullshitting, took a few steps backwards away from  the two of us as I slowly closed the distance.

We were eye to eye, toe to toe, and he didn't back down even an inch. He  was exactly my height, probably would have been my size if he spent as  much time in the gym as I did. He did look a little like a slightly  older version of me.

What was I supposed to do? Fuck him up, or listen to this bullshit that I didn't have time for?

"Is there somewhere we can sit down? Talk?" asked Kendall hopefully.





Austin





I sat in Ross' chair behind his desk, halfway dumbfounded by the story  Jace laid out for me. It was fucking insanity, but since the only person  I ever told I was bought and sold as a baby was Skylar, he just seemed  to know too much to ignore.

If it was true, then I was rescued from the womb of my dead mother after  she and my father were killed in a mob hit in front of Jace, back when  he was six or so. After that, I was stolen from the hospital and nobody  ever heard anything more about me. Until now.

They tracked down the guy who'd been spotted on hospital security  footage abducting me, some Picolli associate. He'd served fifteen years  for kidnapping and manslaughter after saying he'd left me in a dumpster  somewhere.