Mr. Beautiful

Bianca.

Bianca going limp, crumpling to the ground, blood in her hair, blood on her face.

My worst nightmare come to life.

Bianca.

I'd seen her shot, seen her fall.

No.  No.  No.  No.  I couldn't lose her.  It was inconceivable.

"Bianca," I wheezed, my chest burning like it was on fire with that one word.

CHAPTER NINE

I'M OKAY, YOU'RE OKAY, WE'RE OKAY

PAST

STEPHAN

We didn't shake hands or touch gloves.  Not that we got to wear gloves.

It wasn't that kind of a fight.  Some underground clubs had rules.  Some of them even operated under a code.  This wasn't one of those.  That kind of ring wouldn't take an under-aged street kid into the mix, no matter how good he was at hurting people.

We nodded at each other across the small space allotted us for this desperate bout of violence.  I made the mistake of meeting his eyes.

They were dead.  He already thought he'd lost everything.  He was about to lose more.

I wanted to tell him just to fall with the first blow, that I never lost, so he shouldn't make me hurt him more than I had to, to get paid.

I wanted to tell them all that.  I didn't want to do more damage than I had to, but sometimes I couldn't help it.

I never wanted to reach the place where I couldn't help it.

I took a deep breath, letting my eyes move through the crowd to find the only face in the world that reassured me.

Bianca's serene eyes met mine, and I felt instantly better.

The place was packed, but there was an invisible barrier around her that no one dared to encroach on, thanks to me and my temper.

Everyone here knew what I'd do if someone so much as bumped into her.  It was a rough crowd, and I'd made a point of educating them with a few bloody examples.

"Love you," she mouthed, looking utterly composed amidst this chaos.  It was just what I needed.  Her calm was the anchor that kept me grounded, always.  I did the fighting, but she was the one that kept me safe and alive.  I'd have lost the will to live a long time ago, if I hadn't found her.

"Love you," I mouthed back.

Of course, everyone assumed we were young lovers.  We always let them assume.  It was just easier than explaining that, though she'd never be my girlfriend, she was as essential to me as air, and I'd die before I'd let anyone hurt her.

I focused back on the task at hand, my will renewed.  I hated fighting, hated it more than just about anything, but it was a necessary evil, at the moment.

And hate it or not, I was very good at it.  Undefeated, in fact.  Defending myself against someone four times my body weight from an early age was my training.  And it was good training.

The bell rang, and I went to work.  He started dancing my way, light on his feet for such a big guy, and trained to box, I guessed.

It wouldn't be enough.

I was trained to survive, to fight dirty, no matter the means.

I dodged his first quick blows, observing his moves before I made my own.  He was quick, but I knew I was quicker.  And more desperate.  I didn't just have myself to win for.

I stopped his fancy footwork with one brutal blow to the gut, followed through instantly with a vicious fist to his temple.

He went down, but unfortunately, I hadn't knocked him out.

He came at me again, and I blocked each of his blows easily.  The blow to the head had made him slower, and I could see each hit coming.

I clenched my jaw, cursed myself, and attacked, landing three quick-fire, savage punches, two to his midsection that I knew would leave him coughing up blood for days, the third an uppercut into his chin.

He went down, and when he got back up, his eyes were dazed, feet stumbling.  I'd messed him up good, and I wasn't done.

He managed to clip me on the shoulder before I laid into him again, but it was nothing, certainly not compared to the damage I did to him that round.

He just kept getting up.  He'd barely managed to land a blow, but he wouldn't stay down.  Either he had a death wish, or he didn't understand.

We got a breather after a time, and I went to check on Bianca while the poor bastard went and licked his wounds in the corner.

"You okay?" she asked, wiping my brow, her eyes as steady as her hands.

I nodded.  "I'm fine, but he won't be, if we keep this up.  Guy doesn't know when to quit."

"Be careful.  He strikes me as desperate."

I let her see the bleakness in my eyes.  "We all are."

She nodded.  "I know, but I don't trust him.  Just be extra careful, okay?"

I agreed and kissed her on the forehead.

She leaned into me, unmindful of the sweat, uncaring of the filth and blood on me.

It was what I needed.  It was all I'd ever needed.

Acceptance.

Such a simple concept, but I needed it like I needed air to breathe, and only one person had ever given it to me.

I hugged her into my chest and breathed it in.  It was more than salve to a wound.

It was life-sustaining.

I soaked up as much as I could before heading back into the ring.

My girl had impeccable instincts.

The guy pulled a knife on me for that round, jabbing me with it before I saw his intent.

It wasn't serious, just a flesh wound, but it set me off.

My vision went red, and so did the room.

I took his legs out from under him with a vicious kick to the front of his knee and a hard shove.  I followed him down, pummeling his face.