Fighting for Salvation Read online

  Copyright © 2014 Aubrey St. Clair

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialogue, and everything else are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to people or events, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Note from Aubrey

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  Table of Contents

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  PART TWO

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  COMING SOON (Early Fall 2014)

  Chapter One

  Joel

  "Don't get in my way, boy!" Joel's father yelled, his eyes a blaze of fury.

  "Leave her alone!" the boy yelled, arms outstretched in front of his cowering mother.

  The back of the man's hand moved like a flash and the boy spun as he was struck, arms flailing as he hit the ground. "I warned you. Never fucking listen to me, a day in your life. Like your bitch of a mother."

  Joel's father advanced again, both hands clenched into fists of black iron, dirty from an afternoon of fixing cars and strong for the same reason. He was lurching unsteadily, so his advance was slow enough that Joel was able to scramble back to his feet and throw himself between the two adults again before his father could close the gap. His mother stood hunched against the kitchen counter, hands held protectively in front of her face.

  Joel's father saw the boy moving back in front of his intended target and so he swung his right arm straight this time, trying to catch his wife before his son could get in the way. Joel grabbed the arm with his right and pushed it past his father, towards the left side of the big man's body, keeping him from using his left hand for any further striking. While he still held the arm, Joel lifted his leg and swung it into the man's exposed belly...

  * * *

  The crowd roared around Joel as his opponent stood up unsteadily after being knocked to the ground. His shirtless back was covered in sweat despite the cool breeze that blew through the alleyway, and a large gash was slowly starting to ooze blood from where he had just sliced it on the concrete. The man's right arm shot towards Joel's face, but he was too quick and he stepped out of the way, grabbing the arm with his right and pushing it left across the man's body, blocking him from throwing a punch with his other arm and exposing his belly.

  With a swing of his powerful hips, Joel spun on the ball of his left foot as he brought his right leg up and out, slamming it hard into the exposed mid section. With a sharp exhalation of breath, the other man doubled over. Joel released his arm as he did and then grabbed his bent over body with both hands and pulled him forward, slamming him into the wall behind him. The man was only able to raise his hands just in the nick of time to keep himself from hitting the brick headfirst.

  The crowd of 20 or so around Joel roared in cheer as arms went up and they widened around the two, shifting formation to maintain a rough circle and give them enough room to fight.

  The other man, the one who just called himself "Crush", pushed himself off the wall and whirled around to glare back at Joel. He was panting now, clearly winded from the blow to the stomach, but he shrugged it off and moved forward again, bringing his arms up and squaring his hips back into his fighting stance.

  Chapter Two

  Amber

  The only thing good about this apartment is how close it is to the subway, Amber Sinclair noted as she bounded up the stairs two at a time to emerge from the underground into the dark and cool night. She hated working the late shift at the bar, but that's where the tips were made and tips were the only salvation she had towards getting into a better neighborhood. With bars like hers, near a college, the weekends started on Thursday's.

  She absently clutched her spring jacket around her. Not from the cold, since despite the breeze the night was still warm enough, but because it almost felt like it was an extra blanket of security against whoever may be lurking in the shadows. Her mother had warned her about moving into this building, but it was only at night that she really wished she had listened to her.

  Her building was in sight pretty much as soon as she had come above ground, but it was still about a five minute walk to the front door. That was enough time for the creeps to settle in, so she hurried her pace. There weren't really any people around, but there did seem to be a lot of yelling coming from somewhere. As she got closer to home, the noise only got louder.

  By the time she reached the front security door of her building, it sounded as if the yelling was right next to her. It took her a moment to realize that it was coming from the alleyway next to her building. Despite not really wanting to get involved, the sounds of a cheering crowd made her feel safer than she probably should feel. You can still get raped by a group of men, it doesn't just happen with one. She could almost hear her mother's admonishing voice in her head.

  She peaked around the corner and was surprised to see a group of at least 20 in a circle, shoulder to shoulder and all yelling and clapping. They were standing too close for her to see what it was they were looking at, but she did see some females in the group which made her feel even safer. Their attention was on whatever they were watching, not her.

  She inched closer to the crowd until she was standing behind one short female who she could see above. What in the hell?

  Two men were standing bare-chested in the middle of the group, arms up defensively in front of themselves. There was a car backed into the alleyway and it's headlights were on, shining towards the group and lighting the night up.

  One of the men had short cropped black hair, military style, and looked to be some sort of mulatto mix. He had a bleeding scar on his back that looked pretty fresh. He was short, and squat, but heavily muscled. One of his eyes were
puffy, and his lip looked swollen as well, but the grimace on his face made it seem like those injuries just made him angry instead of hurt.

  The other man couldn't look more different. He was taller, and although his body was very well defined and muscular, it seemed to be more of the kind of muscle you get from working all your life as opposed to lifting weights. He had much fairer skin, as well, and blond hair that was short but not cropped. He had an angry looking bruise on his cheekbone but other than that didn't seem to be in such bad condition.

  Both men were covered in a thin film of sweat. She was about to tap the girl in front of her on the shoulder and ask her what the hell was going on when all of a sudden the shorter man charged towards the blond and grabbed him by the waist, slamming them both against the brick side of her building. The crowd around her roared and she saw a couple men high five each other. What the fuck is this, fight club?

  Chapter Three

  Joel

  "Get the fuck off me Joel, or you're next, so help me!"

  Joel gripped his father by the waist as his mother ran from the living room, taking the escape her son had provided for her without another thought as to what might be in store for him by offering it. He heard the bathroom door slam and the lock click. That wouldn't stop his father for long.

  "You think you're big enough to stop me now, you little shit? I'll always be stronger than you. You ain't a man yet. As soon as you are, I'll be happy to kick you the fuck out of this house without having to worry about the fucking cops bringing you back."

  His father pushed an elbow into the back of his neck painfully, but he held on tightly. At seventeen, he was already as tall as his father but in this position, holding him by the waist, his height was no longer an advantage.

  All of a sudden his father slammed his foot down onto Joel's instep, causing him to yelp in pain and instinctively loosen his grip. His father then pried his hands off and shoved him to the ground...

  * * *

  Joel lifted his foot and slammed it down onto the instep of Crush, causing the man to grunt in pain and move back instinctively. His arms still gripped Joel's waist, but he could feel that the hold had loosened. Crush had stepped back enough now to let him bring his knee up and make contact with the man's groin. That caused his grip to fall away completely and Joel spun out of the hold. Crush was bent over slightly with his hands clutched between his legs, offering him no protection anywhere else.

  Seizing his opportunity to put an end to the fight, Joel raised his arm and slammed his fist hard into the side of his opponents head. Crush went down in a heap immediately and the crowd surrounding Joel let out a roar.

  People started to move forward now, slapping Joel on the back and congratulating him. Money began to change hands between the group, with a wad of it pressed firmly into Joel's fist. A couple of men went over to Crush and started to shake him until the man started to move on his own, and then they helped him to his feet.

  "Great finish, my man!"

  "Way to go. My money was on you the whole time. Fucking A."

  "You ready to go again tomorrow night?"

  This last question was posed by Randy, a big beefy black man who had introduced him to this group just two weeks ago after seeing him in a bar fight. Since then he had set him up with another fight almost every other night. This was the first time he had offered him another bout the very next day.

  Joel nodded. "Sure."

  "Great. We'll do it here again. Looks like we haven't been ratted out so we may as well use this place another night. Same time."

  Joel nodded. His cheek hurt, but other than that he hadn't been injured too badly. He'd be ready to go again. A few more fights and he'd be able to afford first and last month's rent on a shitty apartment, get himself out of the shelter. He was tired of sleeping with all of his valuables up against his body under the covers. Not that he had that much to lose.

  The crowd was already starting to disperse and the headlights on the car behind him shut down, leaving him in darkness as he watched the people filter away.

  Chapter Four

  Amber

  She couldn't believe what she had just witnessed. All of these people had been standing around watching a fight and betting on it? She was no stranger to fighting, of course, she'd seen UFC fights on TV on occasion, and although she didn't seek them out, she had to admit to getting a bit of a thrill watching two scantily clad and buff men rolling around getting all sweaty together. But in an alleyway next to her building? She would never have imagined such things actually happened.

  The winner, the blond who just collected the money, still stood in the alley watching everyone else depart, as if he had nowhere of his own to hurry off to at this time of night. In the darkness, she could no longer see the sheen of sweat that covered his well defined abs, but in her mind's eye she could still imagine it. She had to admit this boy was fine, but such an animal. The look on his face as he punched the other man seemed cold, as if he didn't care at all what happened to him.

  As she stared at him, only a few feet away and no longer hidden by the crowd of people, he looked up at her and caught her gaze. His eyes flickered with something, the coldness gone for a moment, and her heart started to pound in her chest as she realized that she was exposed now, and very nearly alone with a man that had just beaten someone unconscious.

  His eyes seemed to pull her in as they met her own, and she could feel her heart pound even harder and her face start to flush. Quickly, she yanked her gaze away and hurried out of the alley. Fumbling with her keys, she unlocked the security door and shut it behind her, only then letting out the heaving breaths that she hadn't even realized she had been holding. She didn't even want to imagine what her mother would say to her in this situation.

  She stood there for another minute until her breathing was back to normal, thinking about the tall stranger she had just watched. What did it feel like to have such power? To know that you could dominate another person so physically. She wondered if he was that dominant in the bedroom and she felt her face redden again. Shaking her head to clear such ridiculous thoughts, she headed for the elevator. It was time to get to bed. Wondering idly whether her dreams would be filled with violence and domination, she couldn't help but think that if they included the tall fighter, maybe they wouldn't be completely unwelcome.

  Chapter Five

  Joel

  Joel looked at his watch, a vestige of his old life and the last thing his father had given him before kicking him out of the house. It wasn’t worth anything beyond timekeeping, and he wouldn’t even keep the thing if he didn’t need exactly that. Most people these days didn’t even wear watches anymore, but he had no money for smart phones or tablets or whatever it was people used. This old Timex would do until he’d made it, and it would serve as a reminder of what he’d left behind until he did.

  It was still two hours to go, plenty of time for him to get there on foot. No need to waste money on a subway when it was only three miles away from this shelter. The walk could double as a warm up for the upcoming fight.

  A light rain started to fall as he walked, making the poor visibility of the nighttime darkness even worse. He didn't love the rain, although it would help cool him during the fight. The weather may also thin the crowds, unfortunately. That would affect him directly, since less people meant less money for him. Randy gave the winner 20% of the action. Last night, that worked out to almost $200. Loser got nothing but a potential hospital bill, something he definitely couldn’t afford. But he’d need at least a broken bone to even consider that. He was used to pain. Pain he could deal with. Broken bones were something he couldn’t fix on his own.

  * * *

  “He’ll need at least six stitches along with the cast,” the doctor said to Joel’s father. “How did you say this happened, again?”

  “Kids,” my father said with a laugh that was almost convincing, even to Joel. It helped that his father probably did think his injury was funny. “Skateboarding accide
nt, landed on his face and arm. We cleaned it up before we came in, got the gravel out.”

  “You did a remarkable job,” the doctor said. Joel could see he was skeptical, but he wasn’t going to get a different story out of Joel. “At any rate, we’ll need to give him morphine before we set the arm. And then I’ll stitch up the head.” His father sat in the room the whole time, making sure Joel didn’t say anything to contradict his story. On the way home, they stopped to fill his prescription for morphine pills to take for the next few days to ease the pain.

  By the time they got home, his arm was throbbing again.

  “My arm is hurting,” he said to his father as he walked into the kitchen. His father was standing at the sink with a beer and the bottle of pills in front of him, they were already open.

  His father fished a couple of fingers into the bottle and pulled out a pill. He looked at Joel and smiled cruelly, then popped it into his own mouth and swallowed it down with a swig from his bottle. “Tough luck on that,” he said. “Maybe next time you stay the fuck out of the way when your mother and I are talking.” He popped the top back onto the bottle and dropped them into his pocket.

  Talking. That’s what he called what he did with his fists.