Fight Dirty, Daddy

Before Carol wakes

CHAPTER FOUR

SLAV

The crowd wanted blood.

They always did down here. That was the point, was it not? That was why they paid ridiculous amounts of money to stand packed shoulder to shoulder in the underground heat and scream themselves raw.

"Viking! Viking! Viking!"

I gave them what they wanted.

Three years undefeated, they knew what they were getting when The Viking walked into the fighting ring. When I walked into the ring.

The man across from me, the Reaper, was some Hungarian dude with a jaw like concrete. His hands, which had hospitalized six men, threw a right hook at me. If that hit me, it would likely separate my head from my shoulders.

Too bad I wasn’t in the mood for a hospital trip tonight.

I rolled under it, felt the air move against the Viking helmet covering my face. I came up close to him before he finished the swing. His eyes widened in surprise just as I drove my elbow into his ribs.

The sickening crack of his ribs getting smashed was audible over the crowd noise.

Reaper grunted and staggered left.

Too slow, little fucker. I chuckled.

A flash of the b***h I had f****d before my match filled my head. Technically, she couldn't be called a b***h since she was a virgin. I should not have been thinking about the girl. I knew better. Twenty years of fighting, and the rule had never changed- nothing in the ring except the man in front of you.

Women, money, problems, all of it waits outside the ropes. Inside the ring, there was only this. But Bozhe, she had been tight.

Dammit, not now, I was in a bloody fight. I do not think about women in a fight. That was a recipe for disaster. I rolled my shoulders, squaring up for Reaper’s attack.

But Bozhe, she had been so tight, I should have known she was a virgin. But I was so f*****g hard, I was caught up in getting release that I hadn't noticed that. Why would Keyes send me a virgin? He knew how I liked my sluts. Exactly as their name implied- slutty. Not innocent, wide-eyed virgins, Christ, what if my d**k had torn her to shreds?

Nichego. Nothing to be done about it now.

Reaper came at me again and threw three rapid punches. I dodged the first two and caught the third on my forearm. The crowd booed.

"Show him what you're made of!"

"Break his bones! Crush him to pieces!"

They wanted me to take all three punches. They always wanted The Viking to bleed a little before he ended it. It made the ending feel very dramatic and climactic. Normally, I would oblige them. Da, fine. Another time. Not tonight. I wanted this done.

This fight needed to be over as soon as possible so I could make it back in time before Carol woke up.

My mind went back to the girl I had f****d. She had been young, I thought, circling with the Reaper in the ring. Young and tight. I didn't f**k girls like her. How the f**k had I gotten so carried away?

Blin, but she felt so good. Her tight, untried p***y had gripped my c**k like a hot suction cup, and that had almost unmanned me. I would bet she tasted good, too.

“Don’t f*****g ignore me, you bastard!” Reaper let out a bellow and charged towards me. I loomed over him several inches and drove an uppercut under his chin. His head snapped back. His mouth guard hit the mat a second before the rest of his body did.

He didn't get up after falling. The commentator's voice exploded over the megaphone.

"AND THE VIKING DOES IT AGAIN!

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THAT IS HIS THOR'S HAMMER, THAT IS HIS SIGNATURE, ONE SHOT, ONE SHOT IS ALL IT TAKES! AND REAPER, THE UNBREAKABLE REAPER, IS DOWN. THREE YEARS, THREE YEARS UNDEFEATED, THE VIKING REMAINS THE MOST DANGEROUS MAN IN THIS RING!”

The crowd cheered and bellowed, chanting my name. I stood over Reaper's unconscious body, rolled my right shoulder, and checked my knuckles. Two of them were split, but they would heal. I walked to the corner where the championship belt was waiting, draped over the ropes.

A woman appeared immediately at the edge of the ring, a blonde with all legs and red lipstick, reaching for the helmet. They always went for the helmet. These bitches pined and ached to see what I looked like under it.

My eyes moved coldly to her, and she squeaked, took three steps backwards, and ran off.

Good girl.

I took the belt from the official and ducked through the ropes. I had to get my ass home. Though I was still hardly used to it, I had a wife and a.... A stepdaughter who hated my guts. I sighed at the thought of Jasmine. If she were here tonight, she would have prayed for the Reaper to scatter my guts like confetti. That little feisty thing hated my guts, and I had no idea why.

Keyes was waiting at the bottom of the steps, his black leather jacket on, hands in his pockets. He was a slender man in his fifties, all grey-haired, probably from managing fighters all his life. He had found me in a bar fight in Oslo twenty years ago, told me I threw a punch like a freight train, and was wasting it on civilians.

He hadn't been wrong.

"Good fight," he grumbled, falling into step beside me as we moved through the corridor toward the back rooms. The Delirium club stood several floors above the arena, and I wondered if the little slut I had f****d earlier was still sticking around.

"The crowd loved the fight, Slav," Keyes stated behind me.

"They always love it. All it takes is a punch."

"Yeah,” He chuckled. “You f****d up Reaper's jaw, man. Poor kid's not going to remember his own name for a week."

"He'll be fine." I pushed through the door to the back corridor, the noise of the crowd dropping behind us. "Did you send a girl with a gold mask up to my suite?"

"Gold mask?” Keyes frowned. “I didn't send anyone with a gold mask. Why do you ask?"

"Doesn't matter." I shrugged. It was no use pining over some girl who came to the club and got into my bed. She knew what she was getting into. I f****d her and would probably never see her again. It was done.

But those dark eyes, damn, I loved the way they had rolled under the mask as she came hard around my c**k. Perhaps… I could find her, and I would see her again.

"We've got a bigger problem than gold masks," Keyes said in a low growl. I had been pulling the tape from my knuckles and stopped, my spine going rigid.

"Who?"

"Renner's people. I saw three of them in the back row on the left side. They weren't watching the fight." He paused, his eyes staring pointedly at me. "They were watching you."

I cursed under my breath, reaching for my helmet to yank it off. Of course, f*****g Renner.

I had refused to throw the Callahan fight eight months ago. Renner had lost three million dollars on the outcome of that fight and had been trying to get on my f*****g nerves ever since. What the f**k was he doing in my building this time?

"How close did they get?" I demanded.

"Close enough to know the venue. Not close enough to know your real face yet, thanks to the helmet,” Keyes grunted.

I resumed pulling the rest of the tape around my knuckles and dropped it.

The gold mask girl surfaced briefly in my head, the warmth of her tight virgin cunt, the sounds she'd made against my hand, the way her hips had rolled up to meet me... She must be new.

"Keep them off my trail," I ordered, detesting the uneasiness that filled my chest. I had sworn to never feel fear after leaving Oslo, twenty f*****g years ago. There was no way I would go back to living that life. "Keep them away from my family.”

Keyes sighed. "That's going to get harder to manage because Renner's men are getting bolder."

"Then manage it harder." I spat, turning to face him. "We had an agreement. I keep winning, and you keep the slimy bastards away from my family. Carol and Jasmine stay out of this. That is not negotiable, Keyes. Not now, not ever. Ponyatno?"

"Understood." He held my gaze. "I'll handle it. Calm your titties.”

Carol had agreed to marry me after a few years of friendship. Open marriage or not, I had to protect her and Jasmine- even if her annoying brat was a Valkyrie out to draw my blood.

Russian words explained

Bozhe- God

Nichego — Nothing to be done or Never mind

Blin- Damn/ shoot

Ponytano — Understood or Got it