The Fighter's Girl by The Fighter's Girl

Author:The Fighter's Girl [Girl, The Fighter's]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

The hit that came from his right had cracked his head to the side. Ears ringing and head fuzzy, Brock let the pain further fuel his rage. These assholes actually thought they were going to have Izzy, and that he would just give her to them to stop this? Not fucking likely. There might be three of them, but he was a trained MMA fighter, loved the thrill the violence caused in him, and always wanted more. Besides he wasn’t in a cage right now, and that meant he was about to do a little dirty bare-knuckle fighting. He was looking forward to this, not just because these assholes had started this shit, but because they had threatened his girl. Fierce possessiveness claimed him at the very thought of these motherfuckers wanting to touch what was his, and she was his. There was no question about it. He let them have the first hit, but that was all they were getting.

The leader, or at least who Brock assumed was the leader since he was the only douche-bag that had the balls to say anything to him since this started, charged him. He was drunk and high, and so he moved slowly, his punches were sloppy, and he was off the mark. Brock slammed his fist into his nose, grew even more excited when he heard the sound of his nose crunching from the hit, and immediately went after the next guy. He tossed him against the side of one of the buildings like a rag doll, and immediately turned on the third asshole. At least this guy seemed the smartest of the three, because he took a look at the other two pricks, and then back at Brock before turning and running like the little asshole he was. The guy he had thrown against the building must have hit his head on the brick because he was out cold.

“You motherfucker. You broke my nose.” The only one standing and the one that seemed to try to place some kind of claim on his girl stood a few feet from him. Blood poured from his nose, moved over his lips and chin, and covered his white shirt like a grotesque painting. “I’m going to kick your ass, and then fuck your girl. I might make you watch, but haven’t decided yet.”

He charged forward, but Brock was ready. A fighter never lost control, never took his eyes off his opponent, and always let the other guy make the first move. He came swinging like a damn freight train, but his anger was a cloud of amateur movements that Brock had seen a hundred times before. He swung out, and Brock caught his fist midair and used his opponent’s momentum against him. Slamming his fist into first his right side and then his left, he kept his composure when the guy doubled over and grunted in pain. Brock stood there and waited for him to come back for more or turn the other way and run.

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