A Fighter's Choice Read online

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Sam Crescent

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-068-7

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A FIGHTER’S CHOICE

  Sam Crescent

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  The feel of bones breaking filled Jasper Sutton with happiness. A lot of cash was riding on this fight, but he didn’t care about the money. No, he was only here to feed the savage within him and earn a little cash along the side. The cheering of the crowd did nothing to appease the violence within him. He needed to hurt something or someone. Fighting with men willing to take punches was simply a bonus. The fighting might be illegal, dangerous, and stupid, but there were plenty of stupid men for him to pound on. This allowed him the opportunity to blow off some steam in between fucking the latest bitch who wanted him. He picked the bloodthirsty women who hung around the fights. They expected their fucking rough, and he was never in the mood to be gentle. Jasper didn’t do gentle or love. He did cold hard fucking and the women better not expect a second go. Never had he fucked a woman more than one night. If they got to fuck him multiple times that night then they should consider themselves lucky.

  The bastard in front of him took another lunge for him. Jasper dodged the flailing fists aimed at him. There were few rules in these kinds of fights, and Jasper was bored. With three quick punches, one to the abdomen and two to the head, his opponent was down. Cheering erupted as Steve, the guy running the fight, slapped his hand down on the mat announcing the end of the fight. He took a step back and spat onto the floor. His saliva was mixed with blood.

  Someone touched his arm, and he jerked around ready to hurt whoever touched him. He found a fake blonde with even bigger fake tits smiling up at him.

  “Hey, handsome, are you looking for some company tonight?”

  He stared at her, seeing easy pussy. “You got some friends?”

  “Yeah, two of my girlfriends are here.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  Jasper saw the lie for what it was. He didn’t believe her age, so he wasn’t going to be going anywhere with her. “Go back to school, girl.” He pushed her aside and made his way out of the room. Steve would pay him once he took all of the cash flowing about. The basement in an abandoned warehouse was the best setting for the fight. No one would be looking for them or interrupting. The last thing he wanted was to end up in a cell.

  He entered the broom cupboard that was his to prepare for the fight. Steve had installed a couple of lockers for the fighters to put their stuff in. The crap helped to ease the illegal tension. He stared in the cracked mirror seeing the black eye and bloody lip he’d gained from this fight. Pulling his bag out of the locker, he removed his soiled shirt, wiping the blood up as he did. Ignoring the sting of pain, he quickly pulled on a clean shirt and tugged his bag onto his shoulder.

  “Damn, man, you got over two big ones this time. You sure you don’t want to consider becoming a fighter full time?” Steve asked, handing over the two thousand dollars he’d earned that night alone.

  “No.” Jasper took the money, pocketing the stash and glaring at the man who was always trying to get him to fight more.

  “You could be earning triple this every night, if not more. You’re a fucking rock in the ring. I can put a call to my brother. He’d love to have you.”

  “Those fights you want, they got rules?” Jasper asked.

  “Jasper, man, when has anything with rules ever been fun?” Steve opened his arms, and his face went bright red.

  “I like to keep breathing after a fight. What you’re offering is the chance for me to die. I don’t think so. Don’t bother calling your brother.” He pushed past Steve and headed out of the warehouse. Several women tried to stop him even as another fight started up. Tonight he wasn’t in the mood to take any of these women home. He’d gotten the release he needed in pummeling the bastard in the ring, not that there was much of a ring. The night was dark, and seeing a clock on the side of a gym he saw it was after twelve. He hiked his bag up on his shoulder and started the walk back to his apartment building. It was hot, and he didn’t need to wear a shirt to make it home. When he got back to the confines of his apartment he’d clean up his fresh cuts before collapsing into bed.

  Several women on the walk home tried to get him to take them in for the night. He wasn’t interested in some paid company. As far as he was concerned, women who had pimps were not to be trusted. They stole from you more than gave you pleasure. Also, he couldn’t guarantee how clean they were.

  He hadn’t picked up a woman for the night, so it was going to be a pretty boring few hours until the sun came up.

  Getting to the entrance of his apartment building he saw a woman climbing out of her car wearing a pair of shorts and a really tight top. She lived in the apartment opposite him, and he’d seen her many times. He didn’t know her name or what she did. All Jasper had noticed was the curvy shape of her body encased in the tight clothes she wore when she got home. There were never any friends handing around trying to get to know her, nor was there a boyfriend. She never came to him to ask for sugar, coffee, or tea unlike some of the women on their floor.

  He stared at her ass as she dropped her key and groaned. She leaned down exposing more of her thighs as she grabbed the key. There were men out there who’d be offended by the amount of flesh on display. He didn’t know what men saw in slender women. He always liked something he could hold onto. Jasper kept his distance while she unlocked the door and headed inside.

  After seconds had passed he followed her inside, grabbing the mail that had been stuck into his mailbox, aware of her standing beside him, flicking through the junk mail. He couldn’t stop looking at her even as he wanted to turn his gaze away. What was it about this woman? There was nothing special about her. She had long silky brown hair that fell to her waist. It was long enough to get a good grasp on when he fucked her, ramming hard into her sweet cunt.

  Licking his lips, Jasper wanted her, and he had wanted her for a long time, perhaps from the first moment he met her.

  She slammed her mailbox closed and turned. Her gaze landed on his, and he saw her hazel eyes taking in his bruises.

  “Ouch!” She winced the word as she looked at his face.

  He frowned. Her voice was fucking hot, smoky yet sweet at the same time.

  Shaking his head, he made his way up to their floor following behind her, admiring the fullness of her ass as they went further up. She didn’t shout at him or demand anything of him. Whoever she was, she simply walked to her door, unlocked it, and disappeared inside.

  Jasper did the same, ignoring the thickness of his cock as he went through to his bathroom. He saw the damage the moment he looked in the mirror. The bruising was coming out, and over the next couple of hours it was only going to get worse.

  ****

  Amber looked over her small apartment and blew out a sigh of relief. Working at the titty bar as a waitress was downright depressing. She hated the work, the men, the women—everything about the job she hated, yet she loved the tips, and the owners. The money was worth the job. Some of the men loved to cop a feel of her a
ss or watch her bend over to pick something up. Whatever, she was more than willing to do what needed to be done to earn a few extra tips. Unlike some of the other women, she didn’t need to reveal everything to get the money. Yes, she didn’t get as much as the girls that revealed everything, but she got a small chunk for herself.

  Running fingers through her hair she groaned at the greasy feel of the length. One of the wives of the men had walked in as she was handing out drinks. The wife had grabbed the drink and aimed it at the husband only to get most of it on her. Amber hated cheating men. They were awful to watch pawing at the naked women while wearing a wedding band. She’d never get married or be tied down to one man. No man she’d come across knew how to keep it in their pants.

  The worst, for her, were the men in the suits. They walked into the titty bar as if they were better than anyone else, yet they still grunted and shouted their insults to the women there.

  Grabbing a beer from the fridge, she walked past her bedroom into her bathroom. She turned the shower on and stripped out of the clothes she called a uniform. They needed some serious washing before she even thought of wearing them again. She was sure one of the men had wiped his cum on her ass. His hand had been going underneath the table, repulsing her with the speed at which he went. When she’d placed a beer in front of him, his hand had glided across her ass as if he was wiping mess off.

  She shuddered, throwing the soiled pants into the basket with the rest of her clothes. Tomorrow she’d be down at the launderette to clean her weekly washing. She waited for the water to get warm before climbing in. The apartment block wasn’t the best place in the world, but it certainly wasn’t the worst. Hot running water all day every day was too much to ask for. She quickly washed up, thankful the night was hot. In the winter she was always tempted to shower with her clothes on.

  Once she finished, she turned the water off, climbing out to grab a towel. She dried her body first, then finished drying up her hair as she walked toward her bedroom. Amber turned her bed down and climbed under the covers without bothering with any clothes. She hated wearing any nightclothes. Reaching toward the drawer, she opened it and tugged out the crime book she’d gotten out of the library last week. She didn’t own a computer or an e-reader, so she settled on the good old fashioned library to keep her entertained. She wasn’t in the mood for the television. The news only ever reported the bad shit going on in the world. If all she wanted to hear was the bad she would look outside of her window at the city streets. Bad shit went on around her all the time. There was nothing she could do about the bad shit, so she simply lived with it all day every day. The life she’d made for herself was something more than she thought she’d ever have.

  Opening up the book she started to read where she’d left off earlier before going to work. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed her.

  Chapter Two

  Jasper carried his clothing down the apartment stairs. It was morning, and already the stairs had several kids dotted up and down the staircase. There were so many of them, but he made sure he didn’t step on them. Screaming kids were not something he wanted to be listening to for the foreseeable future. Once outside in the fresh air, he walked down the street, passing people as he made his way to the launderette. He wasn’t into wasting money on throwing out clothes and buying new when he could wash them. Also, he couldn’t get his grandparents’ teachings out of his mind. They’d owned a ranch, and while staying with them, he’d had no choice but to do everything himself, which he loved. He used to love visiting his grandparents. It was his only regret in giving into the need to fight.

  He ignored the appreciative gazes from passing women. Even with his bruised face, they wanted him. He’d never get women. They were too fucking strange for him, but they were useful for one thing, sex. He always had plenty of time for sex.

  Entering the launderette he was met with the heat of the machines. He walked past the women chattering together, who had quieted when he entered the shop. Jasper took his usual post at the back of the shop toward the spinner in the corner.

  He paused as he saw the girl from his apartment building sat across from where he usually did his washing with her legs crossed. She wore a pair of jeans with a plain red shirt that revealed nothing. Compared to her clothing last night, she looked tame.

  Walking past her, he was surprised when she didn’t even look up. Most women paid attention when he was in the room or even entering. He frowned as he thought back to last night. All she’d said to him was “ouch”. That didn’t mean anything. They rarely bumped into each other or spoke. He passed her by and placed his washing on the bench. She had some headphones on, and music blasted from her ears. None of the music made any sense to him, and he didn’t recognize it.

  She turned the page of her book, wriggling her foot as she did. He threw the dark clothing into the open washing machine, trying not to watch her. She didn’t pay any attention to him. One song moved into another, and he continued to throw more clothes into the washing machine.

  “You’re going to turn that grey,” she said, lifting her gaze from the book to him.

  “What?”

  “You just threw in a white shirt with all those darks. Your clothes are going to come out a mess.” She stood up and started toward him. He watched as she reached into the washing machine and tugged out the shirt he’d thrown in without watching. Wait, how did she know what he’d thrown in unless she’d been watching him? He stared down at the shirt she placed in his hand then at her retreating back.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” She put her headphones on once again and started humming out of tune to whatever song was playing. He closed the door to the washing machine and moved away to pay for the washing powder. The woman on the counter tried to flirt with him, to draw more out of him.

  It took him a good five minutes before he got a chance to get back to his clothes. He found his neighbor chuckling while he poured the powder into the compartment of the machine.

  “What are you laughing at?” he asked, annoyed, but again, he didn’t know why.

  “You should have seen your face with Beatrice flirting with you. You looked like you’d been caught with your hands in the till or something.” She continued to laugh. “Don’t take it personally. She flirts with everyone, and you’re cute.”

  She finished putting her washing into a basket and finally stared up at him. Her hazel eyes captured him once again, making it hard for him to look away.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked. “She’s always like that.”

  “I know. You’re the only guy here today. Last week, you should have seen her with another guy. I don’t know his name, but he’s yet to return.” She passed him and started putting the soaked washing into the spinner. He sat down and watched as she bent down to pick up her loose change that had fallen. The jeans went a little tighter over those mounded globes. Fuck, he was rock hard, and he didn’t have any way of covering up the evidence. Placing his hands in front of him, he watched her turn and start walking back toward her book. Her tits had a nice jiggle to them as she walked. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.

  She took a seat, placing one leg under the other as she picked up her book.

  The scent of lemon hit him, and he noticed the smell came from her. It was a nice refreshing smell that had his mouth watering. He tapped his thigh, wishing his cock would deflate or something. Leaning his head back against the wall he started to remember the fight last night. Each punch and kick a reminder of what he needed to do to stop himself from getting hurt next time. He loved to fight, but he didn’t actually have a death wish.

  “Do you like running into fists?” she said, causing him to jump. Her voice was right next to his ear.

  Opening his eyes, he glanced to the side to find her inches away from his face. Her gaze was on his bruises, assessing them.

  “I didn’t run into any fist.” He liked her gaze on him.

  “Really? Are you a wimp, or did the
other guy come worse off?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he asked.

  “Not really. My book is finished, and I’m bored. It was a lame ass ending, and now I’m pissed I wasted time reading it.” She frowned. “You live opposite me, right?”

  She hadn’t even noticed they were neighbors? Okay, his ego was taking a serious beating now.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Whoa, watch the attitude.” She held her hands up in surrender.

  What was with this woman?

  “I’m Amber,” she said, offering her hand.

  “Jasper.”

  “Love the name, neighbor.”

  “Do you really not recognize we’ve been living across from each other for over a year?” he asked.

  She smiled and completely blew his mind. Amber was a beauty and weird, completely weird. He saw something in her gaze, though. Something sweet that made her off limits to him.

  “I was yanking your chain or whatever. I know who you are. Okay, I didn’t know your name, and you’ve got that whole scary thing going on about you. I didn’t know if I’d come out one night and see you escorting dead bodies or something.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “You’re always covered in bruises, and you’re always frowning.” She frowned back at him. “Like that, you’re pretty scary. I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to kill me.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I know.” She placed her hands back in her lap. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jasper.”

  The spinner stopped, and she got to her feet to deal with it. What the hell had just happened? More importantly, why was he so damn happy she just spoke to him?

  ****

  Placing the clothes into the dryer, Amber glanced over at Jasper to find him staring at her. He was a strange man, and she didn’t know if it was a good strange or a bad strange. Either way, he confused her and intrigued her. She’d never met a guy like him, which again was strange seeing as she met a lot of guys. He was very secretive, never giving anything away. She’d noticed him living across from her. Amber wasn’t stupid or blind. She knew he was a hot piece, but he was a scary hot piece. She’d never liked her men to come with the fear of being killed midway through sex.