Trigger: An Alpha Bad Boy MMA Romance (8 page)

Chapter Twenty Two

Roxy

“You don’t have to do this.”

I was struggling to keep up with Travis, as he was led through the crowd of bikers and truckers towards the back door of the old bar.

“Travis!” I shouted, reaching out to tug at one of his arms. “I’m seriously.
Don’t do this
.”

Travis paused, and spun around.

He towered over me, eyes burning intently, and for a moment my stomach flipped – either from fear, or arousal. Or both.

“Of
course
I have to do this, Roxy,” Travis growled, as the crowd gathered around us. “If I don’t, that rusty-haired son-of-a-bitch is gonna go back and break my father’s legs.”

I looked up at Travis and gulped dryly.

He was right, I guess. But this didn’t feel right.
None
of it did.

A notorious roadside bar? An illegal fight in the parking lot? This sounded more like an old Patrick Swayze movie than real life; and I knew the plot was just as dangerous.

“Travis…” I opened my mouth to continue pleading, but he ignored me. Reaching out to grab my hand, Travis dragged me through the crowd towards a back door of the bar; and then out into the cool, crisp night.

There was a balcony out back, and more stairs leading to a dirty parking lot looking out over the water.

Red led a procession down the stairs – his bouncer, Roy. Me and Travis. And then a line of bikers, truckers and other bar patrons – all still clutching their bottles of Budweiser and shots of whiskey.

Out in the parking lot, somebody flicked on some floodlights – and it lit up a makeshift circle drawn in the dirt.

Clearly this wasn’t a one-time thing. Fights out here happened a lot.

Roy lumbered off to one edge of the circle, and started stripping off his jacket and shirt. Two of Red’s other bouncers – one of them the same son-of-a-bitch Travis punched out that afternoon – shuffled over to grab his shit. They were his makeshift corner team, I guessed.

Red led Travis and I to the opposite end of the circle.

“Ain’t nothing fancy,” he admitted, spitting into the dirt as he addressed us, “but it’s how we do things out here.” And then he turned to face the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Red roared, his voice louder than a megaphone. “You know the drill. One round. Bare knuckle. First one to tap, nap or snap loses.”

…and the crowd roared their approval.

As Red was busy with the crowd, I turned and looked up at Travis desperately. ‘Tap, nap or snap’ was an ominous warning. It meant the winner had to make his opponent either surrender, get knocked out… or snap a bone and be unable to continue.

“I’ve got a
bad
feeling about this,” I warned Travis, watching him peel off his t-shirt. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Travis pulled his tight shirt off over his head and handed it to me. It was still warm as I accepted it.

“Hun, I don’t reckon I got much choice.”

I’m ashamed to say I blanked out for a second when he said that. I was momentarily stunned to see my former boyfriend – my first love – shirtless for the first time in years.

Dammit, my stomach flipped as I looked up and down over that long, lean torso. Travis’ broad chest and tight abs were both achingly familiar to me, and yet so different to how I remembered them.

Years of training had filled him out a little. Tattoos adorned what I’d remembered as smooth, tan skin. Scars marked his body like badges of honor.

But despite the new additions, this was still the same man I’d loved all those years ago – the one who’d taken my virginity in the back of his dad’s truck, and who’s body I’d once been as familiar with as my own.

“Roxy?”

Travis’ sharp voice snapped me from my thoughts.

“Roxy,” he repeated. “You blanked out on me for a second, there?”

I shook my head.

“Sorry.”

“Just pay attention.” He reached over, and I felt his heavy hand on my shoulder. “You’re all I’ve got, babe. Anything goes wrong, I need you to look after it.”

And then he reached down and pressed his lips against mine – and I nearly fainted.

It felt so natural, and organic – but at the same time, it was like mainlining drugs. My heart skipped a beat. My knees went weak. My panties flooded.

“Roxy?”

I shook my head, blinking as Travis pulled his lips from mine.

“We good?” he asked, eyes burning hotly.

I nodded: “We’re good.”

And, with that, he turned to face his opponent.

Chapter Twenty Three

Travis

It’d been weeks since my last fight – and I’d
never
expected my next one to be in circumstances like these.

No octagon. No announcer. Shit, there wasn’t even canvas on the floor.

This was
Roadhouse
shit. Except this shit was
real
.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen,” Red saw me step into the dirt circle, and addressed the crowd. “On this side, we have the son of one of our own: Walter Oates’ kid. You’ve seen him on TV, and more than a few of you have lost your shirt ‘cos of him.” He held up his arms, and announced: “Travis ‘Trigger’ Oates.”

The crowd rumbled with approval. I’m not going to lie, it was kind of underwhelming.

But they perked up when Red turned to his bouncer, Roy, and announced him, too:

“And y’all know this fat son-of-a-bitch,” he grinned, and the crowd roared with laughter. “Roy Jenkins.”

If Roy objected to being called ‘fat’, he didn’t seem to show it. He’d stripped off his white shirt, and was standing opposite me with the floodlights gleaming off his pale, flabby body.

Sure, he was fat – he probably had a hundred pounds on me. But He had a frame like a John Deere tractor, and fists the size of jackhammers.

“$500 dollars to the winner,” Red announced, and then he challenged the crowd: “And I hope you’re layin’ some money down out there, too. Maybe ol’ Trigger will give you a chance to earn back some of the money he lost ya.”

There was a chuckle from the crowd, and I tightened my hands into fists. Making jokes about my last two losses stung.

Red gave the crowd some time to hustle. Two of his black-suited buddies were collecting fistfuls of twenties and tens as they ran bets, and a couple of waitresses from inside were running out bottles of beer to thirsty customers.

But all too soon, the transactions were wrapped up – and Red turned to address the crowd again.

“And let the games…
begin
!”

And then he scurried out of the dirt circle – and I stood facing Roy in the harsh glare of those burning floodlights.

Roy lumbered forward, swinging his big fists. With his pale body gleaming in the floodlights, he looked rather like a massive wild hog; and he was clearly as ornery as one.

“Yer goin’ down, cowboy,” Roy growled, as he closed the gap between us and swung his giant fists towards my face.

It was almost too easy. This big lug was used to dealing with drunk bikers and rowdy truckers. He’d clearly never fought anybody with actual combat experience before.

By the time his fists reached where my head had been, I’d ducked easily out of the way – and Roy’d left himself wide open for me to plant two hard punches on the side of his big, ugly face.

The burly bouncer snarled, and staggered past me, shaking his head. I’d clearly stunned him – but the big bastard wasn’t going down easy.

The crowd had cheered when I’d hit him, and there was a collective “oooooh” as Roy wheeled around and snarled at me.

A trickle of blood was running down his chin, but he looked more pissed off than injured.

I raised my fists, and braced myself on my back foot, ready for whatever he tried.

Chapter Twenty Four

Roxy

My heart was pounding as I watched Travis and Roy face off against each other in the dirt circle.

It didn’t matter how many years I’d studied and practiced martial arts – things always felt different when people were
really
fighting.

And while Red had declared the competition was over at ‘tap, nap or snap’, I knew there was the very real danger that something could go wrong; and Travis and I wouldn’t get much help amongst this reprobate crowd of truckers and bikers.

So I bit my fist, and watched my ex-boyfriend as he prepared himself for Roy’s next move.

Once again, the lumbering bouncer came in with an unsophisticated barrage of punches – swinging his big fists like they were sledgehammers.

Travis ducked easily out of the way, and then popped up under the reach of Roy’s burly arms to deliver a one-two combo of jabs that crushed Roy’s nose like it was a ripe tomato.

It would have been enough to put a regular fighter on the floor – but Roy just snarled and shook his head – bringing his fists down like he was a wrecking ball.

And this time, Travis wasn’t quick enough to escape them. Roy pounded both his huge hands into my ex-boyfriend’s back, and Travis was slammed to the dirt like a sack of potatoes.

He had just enough time to roll aside, and avoided Roy’s boot as the bouncer brought it crushing down onto the dirt where Travis’ head had been a second earlier.

That alone might have killed him – but Travis’ situation didn’t improve much as he tried to scramble to his feet. Roy lumbered forward and slammed his fists to the side of Travis’ head, sending him sprawling to the dirt.

The crowd roared in approval, as Roy took a menacing step forward, ready to finish his opponent once and for all…

…but I knew Travis better than that, and he didn’t disappoint me.

Just as Roy lurched forward, ready to deliver a knock-out blow, Travis surprised him. He whipped out his long, lean legs and kicked Roy’s sturdy limbs out from under him. Like a felled oak, the burly bouncer went crashing down onto the dirt – and from then it was all over.

Even stunned and bloody, Travis struck with the speed and deadliness of a rattlesnake. He was on top of Roy in a heartbeat, wrapping his long, strong arm around the bouncer’s thick neck.

Roy snarled, and tried to haul himself to his knees – but Travis was on his back now, hooking his other arm behind Roy’s throat, and locking in a rear naked choke.

It was one of the most lethally effective moves in mixed martial arts – and a roughhouse bouncer like Roy was defenseless against it.

Bucking like a bronco, the pale, flabby bouncer struggled to shake Travis off his back – but my ex-boyfriend was on their like a limpet.

Travis tightened his grip, and Roy’s face went from red, to purple, and then to blue.

The fat man clawed at his throat, and his eyes bulged… and then he slumped into the first like a stunned elephant.

Travis held that brutal chokehold for a few more seconds – enough to confirm that Roy wasn’t feinting. And then he released the vice-like grip, and rolled off the fat man’s back onto the dirt.

They both lay there – Roy face down, and Travis staring up into the floodlights overhead.

The crowd was in stunned silence. For seconds, they just stood there in awe – before Red finally stepped into the dirt circle, and jabbed at Roy’s flabby, comatose body with the tip of his cowboy boot.

“He dead?” he asked.

Roy finally gurgled and groaned, and Red breathed a sigh of relief as the fat man stirred.

“He ain’t dead.”

And that’s when the crowd finally found their voice again.

They roared and hollered - even those who’d lost money on the fight impressed with its brutality.

As the crowd cheered, Red stepped up to where Travis was lying, and offered my ex-boyfriend his hand.

Reluctantly, Travis accepted it – and Red helped haul him to his feet.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Red grinned, turning to address the crowd. “We’ve got ourselves a winner.”

And then he hoisted Travis’ arm into the air, and the crowd lost their shit – roaring and cheering for my bloodied, filthy boyfriend.

I didn’t know whether to be proud, or disgusted. Instead, as I drank in Travis’ sweaty, shirtless torso, I found myself getting a little turned on, instead.

Chapter Twenty Five

Travis

“If it’s all the same to you,” I groaned, as Red finally let my arm flop back down by my side, “I’ll take that drink now.”

I was unsteady on my feet, and my lungs were filled with grit and blood. Choking that big, bastard Roy out had in no way been the most challenging fight of my career – but it was an easier winner for ‘dirtiest.’

“Sure thing, cowboy,” Red turned to me, and shook my reluctant hand. “You’ve earned it, hoss.”

He patted me on the shoulder.

“Now get your ass inside. We’ll settle up.”

With that, Red left me, to attend to Roy. The pale, flabby bouncer was getting hauled to his feet by two of Red’s bouncers, and was barely able to stand up.

For a second, I felt bad. A rear naked choke is brutally effective; and I’d expected him to tap out before he passed out. But then I remembered how the big bastard had clubbed me to the ground, and then tried to crush my head like a watermelon with his boot.

The fat asshole deserved everything he got.

Shaking my head, I wheeled around to where Roxy had been standing – and I found her staring over at me, my t-shirt clutched in her hands, and her blue eyes wide and glistening.

I smiled at her, and then spat out a mouthful of blood.

Staggering across the dirt, I held open my arms, and she ran into them – pressing her face against my sweaty, dirt-caked chest.

“Oh
fuck
, Travis,” Roxy breathed hotly into my chest. “Jesus, you scared the
shit
out of me.”

She looked up – her cheek brown with dirt now.

“Are you okay?”

I snorted dryly.

“Sure.”

Truth be told, I wasn’t even sure, yet. After a fight there’s so much adrenalin churning through your veins, it’s difficult to even realize when you’re hurt or not.

But the worst I remembered Roy giving me was a punch or two to the face – and a black eye and a busted lip was probably the worst I’d end up with.

At least, I hoped so.

“Yo! Cowboy!”

It was Red again, swaggering up to us, as the crowd dispersed and slowly started filtering back upstairs into the bar.

“There’s a washroom and hose under the stairs,” he pointed to what looked like a rickety outhouse, beneath the raised floor of the old bar. “Get washed up and meet me back upstairs. We’ll talk.”

And then he handed me something – a neatly folded, black t-shirt. I opened it up and saw the logo of Ol’ Smokey’s emblazoned on the front.

“Consider that one a tip.”

And then, giving me a wink and a nod, Red followed the crowd of bikers and truckers as they headed upstairs – and a moment later the sound of the band started reverberating through the open windows again.

Roxy and I were alone in the parking lot. Even Roy had been hauled off by the other bouncers, presumably to get patched up.

Roxy turned to me, and I suddenly felt her palm hard against my cheek.

“Ow!” I reached up to cup where she’d slapped me. “What in the hell was
that
for?”

“That was for scarin’t he bejesus out of me, Travis,” Roxy snarled, and I’d forgotten how cute she was when she was made. She punched me lightly in the ribs. “Jesus, what where you thinking? You could have got
hurt
.”

I snorted, and wiped blood from the cut above my right eye.

“What does this look like, honey? It’s hardly a kiss.”

She snarled again, and I decided not to push the subject.

“Dammit, Travis. You’re in town for less than two days, and look what’s happened?” She snorted, shaking her pretty head. “Last week I was complaining about how fucking boring this shitbox town is.
Now
look at me.”

And I did look at her.

I looked down at curvy, compact little Roxy, with her tousled black hair and big blue eyes. She looked gorgeous, even in the unforgiving glare of the floodlights, and I couldn’t have thought of anybody in the world I’d want by my side through all this.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, and reached over to curl my fingers around her arms. “It’s all a great, big, fucking mess and I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”

And Roxy looked up, and her plump, red lips curled deliciously.

“Well, everything happens for a reason,” she told me. “And if nothing else, all this excitement helps me forget how goddamn mad at you I was.”

And then, to my surprise, Roxy stood up on her tiptoes, and pressed her lips hotly against mine.

It was different from the kiss earlier. That had been in the heat of the moment – a desperate this-could-be-goodbye to somebody dear to me.

But now, I felt Roxy’s hands circle my bare waist, and her lips writhed against mine. This was a kiss. A
real
kiss.

And I kissed her back.

I wrapped my arms around Roxy’s curvy frame, and I kissed her with all my might; slipping my tongue into her mouth even as I dug my fingers into her supple, muscular flesh.

God, she tasted delicious – just as I remembered her. The smell of her hair. The heat of her breath. I was suddenly eighteen again, kissing her for the first time, and it made my stomach flip.

And my jeans grow cramped…

In fact, just as I was starting to develop a painful hard-on, Roxy pulled her lips away from mine and dropped back down to the balls of her feet.

She looked up at me, eyes wide and mouth half open. I’d kissed the lipstick from her swollen lips.

“W-we better get back upstairs,” she gasped, and I could hear the reluctance in her voice.

I reached down and adjusted my painfully cramped erection.

“S-sure,” I gasped, as reluctant as she was to break the spell. “Let me wash up some, and we’ll go talk to that bastard Red.”