Fight For You

By L. A. Shorter

Grace is haunted by the events of that night at the mansion, the night when her whole world changed. She's battling her guilt while trying to support Chase, the man she loves, while he deals with his grief - a grief she imparted on him.

Cain had fled, hiding out of town and trying to scratch a living working in a bar. He soon gets sucked into the world of underground fighting, a world that proves more lucrative and exciting that he might have imagined. But there are loose ends he needs to tie up, things he needs to do back home, people he needs to see.

When he returns home a shadow from his past begins to haunt him, putting his life, and the lives of those he cares for most, in danger. As Grace battles with her guilt, a revelation about the past comes out, sending her, Cain, Chase, and Emily all on a course that will lead them into peril.

This is the second book in the 'Always for You' series:
Only for You (Part 1)
Fight for You (Part 2)
Kill for You (Part 3)

• Language: English
• Publisher: L. A. Shorter
• Release date: Nov 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310207242

Book preview

Fight for You

by L.A.Shorter

Published by Lindsey Shorter at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 L.A.Shorter

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the

copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for

commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage

your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also

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Previous Book in the Series:

Only For You (Free to Download)

Prologue

September 28th 2013

Grace

A light wind brushed past my face as I stood there looking at the coffin. It was being gently lowered into the grave, the cloudy skies above echoing the sombre mood. There were dozens of people around me, all of them dressed in black, all of them with sad eyes, their thoughts on the man in the wooden box, the man who'd had an impact on their lives.

He'd certainly made an impact on mine, but probably in a different way to the rest. I'd hated him, hated him to the core. I had wanted him to die, wanted him to leave me alone, to disappear. The way it happened, however, wasn't what I had wanted. I was directly involved in his death, and I couldn't shake that feeling of guilt as I stood there.

Chase was by my side, and he made it even harder. He'd been devastated by the news, devastated by the loss of his mentor. His family were around us, a family supported by the man in the coffin when they lost their father, a family so grateful for what he'd done for them. It was so hard meeting them, looking them in the eye, offering my condolences. It wanted to run away, break free and escape, but I couldn't.

I kept it together. For all the suffering around me, I knew that John deserved what he got. The public persona that everyone knew, that was his mask. I'd seen his real face, and it was vile. He'd shown me the man he really was, and that man deserved this fate. He'd tried to buy me for sex, he'd left me to die, he'd drugged me, and he'd attempted to kill Cain, stab him through the heart with a knife. Yes, he deserved exactly what he got.

I'd only ever been to one funeral before this one, and that was a wholly different occasion altogether. It had been for my mom, killed in a car accident, her life fading away right there next to me as I lay caught in that prison of twisted metal. Cain had saved me that day, like he had so many times, but he couldn't save her, as much as he tried.

Where was he now? I'd gone to see him that morning, the morning after he'd woken, but he wasn't there. He'd gone, disappeared, and I hadn't seen or heard from him since. I had gone to see Brad but he told me nothing, said he didn't know. I suspected he was lying, but I wasn't going to get anything from him. I thanked him though, thanked him for helping us, for saving us that night. I don't know what would have happened without him.

I looked over to see a tear roll down Chase's face as he brushed it aside quickly. His expression was stern, angry almost. He'd been finding it so hard recently, knowing that John had been murdered. That's what the cops were saying – that it was murder, that his wounds suggested a fight, perhaps a break-in at his mansion.

They'd concluded that he tried to fight the attacker or attackers off, and was killed doing so. They'd then burned the entire house to hide their tracks, but his burnt body had told the police all they needed to know. Chase had talked about it often, talked about it with fury, with a burning anger. It was so hard hearing him break down and vent over it, all the while knowing it was me. I'd have to live with that now, live with it forever. I really hope it gets easier.

Chapter 1

November 22nd 2013

Cain

Fuck me that hurt. I hit the floor with a thud, my brain rattling away in my skull. I pulled myself up onto my knees and put my hand to my face. Blood was already beginning to spurt from my eyebrow, the familiar feeling of warmth spreading down one side of my face.

My head settled as I stood back up. Crack. Another punch caught me in the back between the shoulder blades. I tumbled forward once more into the cage, rattling the makeshift structure as the jeers of the crown grew louder.

I turned around as a fist came flying at my face, and quickly ducked under it, stepping back into the middle of the ring as my opponent went crashing into the wall of the cage. I jumped about lightly on my feet, shaking the pins and needles out of my arms and legs as the man turned around, his bulky frame lumbering back towards me.

He swung again, his heavy arm slow, his movement so obvious. I arched my body and his arm missed, bringing his soft stomach right into the path of my flying fist. I caught him right in the gut, sending the air straight out of his lungs as he crumbled to his knees, gasping for breath.

I took my chance as he struggled to recover, connecting with the side of his face with a vicious punch that cracked his jaw. I saw his eyes wobble in their sockets as his jaw went limp, his large frame falling to the deck with a heavy thud.

Half the small crowd around me erupted in cheers as the other half started jeering and throwing their beer glasses towards the ring. I guess only half the people here bet on me tonight.

Nice, very nice finish Cain. It was Dax, the organizer. He opened the cage and stepped in, announcing me as the winner and holding my hand aloft.

Thanks, I said. Nice to please at least half the crowd.

Think half of them are the guys friends. Tread carefully when you leave. I'd go out the back if I were you.

Fucks sake, not again. If someone's gonna sign up for a no holds barred cage match then they can expect that, I dunno, maybe they might catch a beating. It's not my fault the guy was so slow.

I stepped from the cage and snatched a towel for my bleeding eye. You're gonna need a few stitches there Cain, said Drax, taking a quick look. Here, he passed me an envelope, your winnings. Now get yourself down to ER, or that's gonna scar bad.

Another trip to the hospital. I was getting used to it, even moreso than before. Since I'd been getting into this underground fighting thing, it was almost a weekly event. Nothing major yet, thank God, but you never know what's round the corner.

Frankly, I didn't care. The last couple of months had been a nightmare: living on the road, staying where I could. I needed cash, so started doing anything possible to get it. What were my skills? Bar work? Fighting? That's about it.

I'd been working a few shifts in a bar in this dusty little town out in the desert. You know, the kinda place where truckers come through and stop off for the night. It was a mecca for those passing through this isolated part of the state, somewhere to get some RnR before getting back on the road. I'd stopped by looking for work in the local watering hole, and managed to snag a couple of cash-in-hand shifts. That's what I liked about this place: no questions asked, no official employment. Do the work, get the cash. Just the way I liked it.

I'd only been working there a few days when I found out what went down in the cellar. This was back in early October, about a month after that night in the mansion. My wound was getting better, but I wasn't ready for a fight. I watched though, saw these passing bikers and truckers step into the ring to see if they could win some money. There were no professionals down there, no real fighters. They were all scrappers, hard men looking for an easy paycheque. It looked to be right up my street.

I wasn't ready to go back though, back home to West Norton. Not yet, not until things were calmer. I kept an eye out to see what was going on: watching the news, reading the papers, finding out from Brad whether he knew anything. It was a high profile case, so the press were all over it. One of the richest guys in town murdered in his country mansion. It didn't look like something the police were going to drop for a while, but it didn't seem like they had any leads, had anything to tie it all to me, to Grace.

By late October I'd stepped into the ring for the first time. I'd never had a structured fight like this before. Every fight I'd ever had had been driven by alcohol or my own rage. This was different. This was staged. I had no idea how it would go down, but I knew one thing: I knew I was excited by it, my nerves enlivened by it. I felt a rush as I stood in that cage, my opponent clambering in with me. And the money, well, that made the risk of injury well worth it.

I don't know whether it was the fact that I was so conscious of protecting my abdomen or whether I was just born for it, but the guy never even touched me. I was so quick on my feet, so aware of his movements. I ducked and dived like Ali, cracking the guy round the face and putting him to the floor within minutes. Maybe he was just a shit fighter.

Two minutes work, one hundred dollars in my pocket. I could get used to this.

And I did. I kept going back