Fight Princess

By MS Kaye

Things aren't what they seem. Don't get involved.

 

Celisse is too headstrong to listen. Her best friend's boyfriend is dead, and she does not heed Cullen's warning, slipped to her in a note as he's being arrested for the murder.

 

Cullen tries to keep Celisse out of danger and also tries to avoid her, both unsuccessfully. He can't deny his feelings for her anymore, but he knows he can't have her. If she ever discovered the truth about his past, she'd surely hate him.

 

Struggling with her intense feelings for Cullen, Celisse uses her skills as an ex-prosecutor to investigate, all while continuing to fight for Ogden, the organizer of an underground fight ring. She eventually realizes things are connected: the ring, Ogden, Cullen, the murder—and herself. She races to uncover the truth before she's arrested or becomes the next victim—or perhaps, the next culprit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
• Release date: Apr 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781953335210

Book preview

Chapter 1

W hat if I told you I loved you? Floyd the bartender asked as he rested his elbows on the ring-stained mahogany.

Celisse was standing across the bar from him. "You love sex, Floyd."

There’s a difference? Floyd grinned.

Celisse rolled her eyes. She really didn’t know if there was a difference. Blackberry— she started.

Whiskey, Floyd finished. He stood straight and poured her usual shot. Ogden said it’s on the house.

That’s unusual.

Fuck yeah. You must be making an impression.

Celisse downed the shot. She didn’t particularly care about Ogden’s opinion, as long as she got to keep coming here.

The guy on the stool next to her spoke up. You need liquid courage to be a ring girl? His grin curled like a skunk’s tail.

I just like the taste, she said, then thanked Floyd and walked away.

The blaring heavy metal music seemed even thicker to wade through than the crowd or the shadows. It bounced off the cement walls and floors and squirmed into the tight spaces around the people. The betting was now closed, and the anticipation of the crowd seemed to deepen the rumbling bass. It was too loud, but she knew she’d feel better in a few minutes.

A hand on her ass. She turned, ripping the guy’s hand away, and the heels of her palms slammed into his flabby chest. Though he was much bigger, he stepped back under the force of her strike.

Bitch, he sneered. The stench of beer wafted from him like the steady flow of fog, as if it wasn’t from his breath, more like something in his skin.

She held her stance, right foot behind her. The crowd stayed back. Some of them were simply watching, as if they already knew the outcome if the guy tried her patience any more, and some of them were grinning and nudging each other.

Hey. One of the bouncers pushed through the drunks and gamblers. Back off. He glanced at Celisse, then back to beer-guy. You don’t wanna fuck with her. He stepped back, out of the guy’s reach, then turned and escorted her through the rest of the crowd.

He let her through the door in the low cement wall surrounding the ring. The odor changed, less of beer and putrid breath, more the scent of decaying remnants of past beatings, mostly sweat and blood, along with the vomit of inexperienced fighters who should have never entered this ring in the first place. She stood in the corner and pulled her long curls into a ponytail, then wrapped her hands. She could hide bruises under clothes, but she couldn’t cover beat-up knuckles with gloves all day in her office job.

She thought it was funny the guy at the bar thought she was a ring girl, one of those cheerleader rejects, too slutty for the respectable career of shaking pompoms. She was only wearing a tank top and loose jeans, not the Spandex and spankies the ring girls always seemed to wear. Oh well. She decided to take it as a compliment and forget about it.

Her opponent entered the ring and stood in the opposite corner. Celisse had never seen her before. The woman was likely here from another city, looking for a better challenge.

Celisse looked over at her, caught her eye, and smiled. For some reason, that seemed to piss off her opponents. That was why she kept doing it.

The girl’s lip curled, and she came at her. Celisse liked this no-rules fighting. There was no bell ringing, telling her when she could start and when she had to stop. There were no points—only one way to win.

Celisse stepped out of her corner, slipped under the girl’s wide punch while making sure not to slip on the blood from the previous fight, landed an upset punch in her stomach, then stood straight, cracking a hook across the girl’s jaw.

The girl stumbled back.

Celisse smiled at her again, and the girl lunged, hands wide like a grizzly bear. Good, she was angry—easy to handle. Celisse sidestepped, shot her hand through the gap in the girl’s defenses, reached to the back of her neck, and bent her over, then slammed her forearm into the crook at the girl’s neck and shoulder. While she pinned the girl’s hand to her side, she rammed her knee into her gut. The girl made a sound like a garbled cough. Celisse pulled her knee back, then slammed it into her opponent’s solar plexus. The girl made no sound, gaping at the floor with an open mouth like a choir boy singing Christmas hymns.

Then Celisse let her go. She didn’t want the fight to end yet.

They exchanged a few shots, and then the girl landed a solid punch to Celisse’s side. Pain radiated through each of her ribs, then burrowed into her chest cavity. She managed to maintain her guard and posture and decided she shouldn’t play around anymore.

She dodged a few attacks, then slipped past the girl’s guard and landed a fist against her mouth. Blood stained Celisse’s hand wraps, and the warmth of it oozed down her forearm. All rage and consciousness smeared off the girl’s face, and Celisse saw she was actually quite pretty without the anger distorting her face like the crumpling of a dry leaf. The girl collapsed back, narrowly missing knocking her head against the low cement wall.

The noise from the crowd came back to Celisse. They were cheering.

While someone dragged her opponent away, she walked out of the ring and through the crowd—no one touched her this time. She always felt a little disappointed when the fight was over. Everything was simpler in the ring, black and white. Winning and losing only had to do with who was stronger and faster and who was conscious at the end. The real world wasn’t so easy. The world in the ring she could control.

Where are you running off to so fast? Ogden, the organizer of the fights and the betting, stood in front of the stairs that led up out of the dank basement space. You never stick around and party, enjoy your victory. His lopsided smile pushed his full cheeks out unevenly. Under his right cheek, his stubble fell over the tattoo of a daisy on his neck, That daisy always caught Celisse’s eye. She wanted to know why he had a tattoo like that. But she never asked.

I have to get up early, she said with a smile. She hoped he wasn’t angry with her for almost starting a fight in the crowd. He made money off fights in the ring, not in the crowd, and had no tolerance for anything that interrupted the flow of money.

Well, that’s a shame. Pretty girl like you could have lots of fun at a party like this.

She glanced around at the bulk of the spectators, who were on the main floor struggling to get a better view of the ring, or perhaps of the bikini-clad ring girl, now walking the edge of the low wall with a poster board of the spread for the next fight.

Not with these heathens, Ogden said. I could introduce you to some high-power people. They’re interested in meeting a girl with your talents.

Your ring girls are more likely to satisfy them.

He laughed. That they do. That they do. No, these men want to meet you for your more exclusive talents, although I’m sure you would be fun in those other ways as well.

No, thanks. She took a step to get around him.

He cut her off. No offense. Just pointing out all of your charms. He looked over at the betting station, a series of booths protected with bulletproof glass, and waved his hand. One of his assistants came trotting over and handed him something.

Ogden dismissed the assistant and held the small brown paper bag out to Celisse.

What’s this? she asked.

Your commission.

She had heard some of the fighters were paid shares of the gambling profits, but she had never actually seen money exchange hands. In the bag was a healthy stack of twenties.

There’s more, Ogden said, for those who can control the outcomes.

Are you talking about throwing fights?

I would never dream of asking someone such as you to do something so...distasteful. The real money, you see, doesn’t come from the spread. It’s in the proposition bets—the length of the fight, the number of falls, how first blood is drawn...

So the money is with the fighter who can control the details.

He smiled. Exactly, he said. Oh, but we don’t have to deal with these details tonight. You need your rest. Go home and get some sleep. He tucked one of her stray curls behind her ear—she managed not to pull away or hit him. Then he walked away, back to his office next to the betting stations.

She walked up the stairs and out into the cold alley. While she headed through the darkness toward her car parked along the road on the next block, she wondered, or maybe worried, about what was going on. She knew Ogden was far from trustworthy. But then she also knew his main driving force was money, which really wasn’t any more sinister than the corporate world in which her father operated. Ogden didn’t push drugs on her, wasn’t trying to get her to prostitute herself, didn’t want to sell her into human slavery. She had seen all that, and worse.

What the hell. If Ogden wanted her to control her matches, so what? She had done that tonight, hadn’t she? She hadn’t wanted the fight to end, so she’d prolonged it. She wanted more of a challenge, and that was exactly what she was being offered.

THE NEXT MORNING, CELISSE’S ribs hurt like hell. She hoped she could hide it from Bridgette and Lily. No good excuses came to mind for having bruised ribs—she was fairly certain none of them were broken. Instead of the stairs as usual, she took the elevator up to the office.

The maintenance man had his ladder set up right behind her desk. He was busy changing fluorescent bulbs.

She rested her hand on her desk and leaned so she could set her bag in her bottom drawer. She gripped the desk for support and used it to push herself upright.

You okay? Cullen was looking down at her from atop his ladder.

Fine.

Coffee, coffee. Lily appeared from the break room holding three mugs. She set one on Bridgette’s empty desk and handed one to Celisse.

Thanks, Celisse said. Bridgette isn’t here yet? That was odd.

Not yet, Lily said. Then she looked up at Cullen and smiled. You want some?

No, thank you. He clicked one of the long bulbs into place.

What was your name again? Lily asked.

Cullen, Celisse said.

He looked down at her.

She sipped at her coffee, with both of her cool hands on the warm mug.

Lily walked around the ladder so she could see him better. He clicked another bulb into place, and his T-shirt sleeve slid up a bit, revealing the tattoo of chains wrapping his biceps.

So, what’s up with your tattoos? Lily asked. One of the things Celisse most liked about having Lily around was that she asked the questions Celisse wanted to know the answers to but was hesitant to ask, perhaps remnants of the propriety her mother had stuffed down her throat as she grew up.

Cullen remained focused on what he was doing. I was bored.

"Well, that’s not a very good answer."

It’s the only one you’re going to get.

Celisse laughed a little. She had never seen anyone deny Lily anything she wanted. She was charming and energetic with an exotic beauty, inherited from her Filipino mother.

Cullen glanced at Celisse again.

She turned at the sound of the door opening from the common hallway. Bridgette walked in. Good morning, she said and set her purse on her desk.

Lily flirted with Cullen a little more, but Celisse didn’t pay attention. Bridgette’s eye was swollen, covered in caked-on makeup. Even with Bridgette’s medium-tone skin to help camouflage it, Celisse saw the discoloration, the way her pretty brown eyes that reminded Celisse of those Manga cartoons seemed closed off, and not just from the swelling.

Paula came out of her office in the back, the only room in the small space with a window. You’re late, she said to Bridgette. I need the revenue sheets by noon.

I’ll have it done, Bridgette said.

Paula went back to her office and closed the door.

She needs to get laid, Lily said.

Bridgette forced a smile—Celisse saw the pain tweaking the corners of her mouth, like the odd angle of a broken limb. So that’s the problem, Bridgette said. Maybe I can feel sorry for her now.

Lily raised her eyebrows.

Bridgette laughed. Maybe not. She started sorting through papers on her desk.

Lily resumed flirting while Cullen finished and then descended his ladder. Once he walked out into the hall, she said, He’s way cute.

Too scruffy. Bridgette’s nose didn’t scrunch up like it usually did when she used that tone.

Who cares? Lily asked. He can be a little scruffy if he’s built like that.

With another attempt at a smile, Bridgette stood. I had too much coffee this morning. It goes right through me. She walked out.

A few seconds later, Celisse followed her to the ladies’ room down the hall.

Just inside, Celisse stood in front of the door, blocking her path. What happened?

Hm? Bridgette continued washing her hands.

Your eye.

What? She looked up. Oh, I ran into the door in the dark. Can you believe that?

No. Since when was Bridgette clumsy? Lily, maybe, but not Bridgette. Who did that to you? Daryl?

Bridgette grabbed a couple paper towels from the dispenser. I told you. I walked into a door.

Did it jump out at you while you were sprinting across your apartment?

Bridgette hurled the balled-up paper towels into the trash. Drop it.

No. Celisse stayed positioned in front of the door.

Bridgette glared.

Celisse had never liked Daryl, but she was pretty sure she hid it well. As soon as Bridgette and Daryl got together, Celisse started seeing the signs, but kept hoping she was seeing wrong. Bridgette stopped going with Celisse and Lily on their occasional nights out. The way she dressed changed to be more conservative, no more of that hint of cleavage she liked. And everything she said, every excuse she made, seemed to have something to do with Daryl.

And now they were living together.

Her best friend was slipping away from her.

He’s not worth it, Celisse said.

"What are you talking about?"

Only a fist would cause damage like that.

"Or a door. You’re not as smart as you think you are, Celisse."

Celisse knew she wasn’t Einstein, but Harvard didn’t give law degrees to idiots. She took a breath and cooled her tone. You’re my best friend.

If you’re my friend, Bridgette said, then you should respect my privacy.

You know I can’t do that.

Fuck you. Bridgette started toward the door, as if ready to walk over Celisse.

Celisse held her position. Please.

Bridgette kept moving. Celisse let her push past—she wasn’t about to restrain her by force, or show Bridgette she was able to restrain her.

Bridgette walked out.

Celisse followed her into the hall. Hey, she said to her back.

Bridgette turned to glare. Leave. Me. Alone.

Do you remember that time we went to O’Malley’s?

What are you talking about?

And that huge drunk guy started hitting on Lily?

Bridgette waited.

Celisse moved slowly forward. And then he grabbed her arm, and she couldn’t pull away. You stood up and demanded that he back off, with no regard for your chances of success. You were hell-bent on defending her no matter what. Because she’s your friend. That was all you needed to know to propel you into action. I gained so much respect for you that night.

Bridgette’s glare started to slip.

You’re my friend, Celisse said. I’ll do anything to defend you—even if you don’t want it, even if you scream at me to leave you alone.

Bridgette said nothing.

Celisse was just in front of her now. She made her voice gentle, like the patter of rain. He hit you. Didn’t he?

A long pause.

Bridgette’s expression twisted, and tears welled in her eyes. I don’t know what to do.

I’ll help you figure it out.

Celisse wrapped her arms around Bridgette, and she deflated. She sobbed against Celisse’s hair. Celisse held on to her and rubbed her hand slowly up and down her back.

What happened? Celisse murmured.

He...he got so mad. I didn’t understand.

Why was he mad?

I don’t know. Her body shook. He started ranting. He said I don’t respect him.

You said he was angry when that guy at the grocery store flirted with you. Did something like that happen again?

He hasn’t been the same since then. I’m starting to think he...he only wanted me because he thought I’d be easy to keep.

Easy to control, Celisse said. He doesn’t know you very well.

Bridgette held tighter. Celisse had the feeling it was partially to hold on for support and partially to hold on to her high opinion. She knew Bridgette well enough to know she was torturing herself with thoughts of how stupid she had been, and hating herself for needing support. Celisse squeezed her to let her know she wasn’t about to turn away. Bridgette was the first person in Celisse’s life who had pulled this kind of loyalty, respect, out of her. She loved her for that.

Then movement down the hall caught Celisse’s eye. Cullen picked up his toolbox from the floor next to where he had been kneeling, apparently to fix a ding in the wall. He glanced at her, made eye contact, then turned to walk away, around the corner.

Bridgette continued to sob. Celisse had never seen her cry like this before. Bridgette took a shaking breath.

I can tell Paula you’re sick and I have to take you home, Celisse said.

She stood straight. I... She swallowed hard. I don’t want to go home.

Celisse wiped her tears gently with her fingers. You can stay with me.

I don’t want to bring you into this.

As Celisse looked at her, she realized—all her attitude wasn’t to keep Celisse away. It was to keep her safe. Sometimes it upset Celisse that there was so much Bridgette didn’t know about her, so much she couldn’t tell her. It might scare Bridgette or change who Celisse was in her eyes. It doesn’t matter what you want. You’re my best friend. I’m involved.

Bridgette hesitated.

Would you let me go through something like this alone? Celisse asked.

Bridgette shook her head.

Celisse took her hand and led her back to the ladies’ room. I’ll help you clean up.

Celisse offered again to get her out of work the rest of the day, but Bridgette said she wanted to stay, that the normalcy felt nice. Of course, Paula complained about how long they were in the ladies’ room, but they were used to her rantings. At lunch, Bridgette told Lily what had happened. Lily looked ready to jump out of her chair and go beat the crap out of Daryl. Celisse prepared herself to stop her—Lily didn’t get mad often, but when she did, it was fiery.

Lily managed to stay in her chair.

Five o’clock neared, and Celisse texted Bridgette not to worry about clothes or whatever. They could stop at the store and get anything she needed. Daryl had used her car today, which was why she’d almost been late. He wouldn’t get up early enough to drop her at work. She had to take a cab. So, she was going to drive home with Celisse. And then they would figure out what to do about Daryl.

Paula sent Lily to the bank to make a deposit and told her she could go straight home afterward since it was so late. Lily offered to come over to Celisse’s place later, but Bridgette told her to go to class—Lily took college classes in the evenings. Paula left right after Lily, and at about half past five, after Bridgette finished what she was working on, she and Celisse walked down the stairs together. Most of the rest of the building had already emptied by the time they headed out into the parking lot.

Celisse tugged her jacket a little tighter. Autumn was coming on strong this year. The wind pulled through her hair and rumpled her oversize curls.

Grocery store? Celisse asked. Walmart? Where do you want to go?

Bridgette, a male voice yelled from a few yards away. Why in the hell didn’t you tell me you’d be late?

They turned to see Daryl walking toward them.

Chapter 2

Bridgette glanced at Celisse, then back to Daryl. I’m sorry, baby. I just... She glanced again. Celisse wasn’t sure if it was a plea for help or her wishing Celisse wasn’t standing here with her, in the line of fire.

Daryl continued walking at a deliberate pace. He was a big guy, and he seemed to like to use that to his advantage. Whenever he talked to Bridgette, or anyone for that matter, he stood as tall as possible and closer than normal so that he looked down at her, like dictators did to their subjects from their palace balconies. That one habit of his was what had first made Celisse not like him.

She had a few things to finish up, Celisse said. I’ll take her home. You don’t have to worry about it.

"Well, I’m here now."

I probably just distracted her from remembering to call you. We were talking.

He smirked. She’s always chatting with someone.

Sorry. Celisse controlled her tone, her anger. I asked her to go shopping with me, and then I’ll drop her off at home.

I won’t be that long— Bridgette started.

She doesn’t need to go shopping, Daryl said. She spends too much as it is.

Celisse clenched her fist, yearning to ram it into Daryl’s face. Bridgette made significantly more than he did. He didn’t even own a car, for goodness’ sake.

She’s going to help me pick out a new dress, Celisse said. We won’t be that late.

He finally addressed Bridgette. And who’s going to make dinner?

There’s an Arby’s around the corner, Celisse said.

He sneered, then looked back at Bridgette. Get in the car.

Celisse shifted, in front of Bridgette.

Then Bridgette stepped out from behind her. We’ll only be a little bit, she said. Then Celisse will bring me home. I can still make your dinner.

He moved closer. Get. In. The. Car.

That was the same tone Bridgette had used with Celisse earlier. She was picking up his habits. He was changing her.

Oh, hell no.

Celisse stepped forward while forcing Bridgette to take a step back. She’s coming shopping with me. She won’t spend anything, and you can get whatever you want for dinner. She’ll even cook for you when she gets home, if you prefer. He’ll have to kill me before I let her go back home to him.

Stay out of this, Celeste.

Her name is Celisse, Bridgette said, with the first amount of defiance she had displayed since he showed up.

He waved his hand in Celisse’s direction, as if wiping eraser crumbs off a piece of paper. Whatever.

She’s my best friend. You should know what her name is.

"You don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, bitch."

Celisse’s tone flattened. Don’t call her that.

I’ll call her whatever the fuck I want. And the same goes for you—bitch.

She’s not going home with you.

The fuck she isn’t.

She can press charges on you for hitting her and get a restraining order. But she might reconsider if you let her go now.

Hitting her? When in the hell did I hit her? The clumsy bitch ran into the kitchen cabinet.

Gymnasts aren’t clumsy. Bridgette had competed when she was in her early teens, and she still had that grace and balance, evident simply in the way she walked.

She’s not a fucking gymnast anymore. She’s a goddamn whale.

Daryl, please, Bridgette said. Let’s just step away for a while, and we’ll talk later. I’ll call you once we get back to Celisse’s.

Get in the car.

We’re both upset, she said. It’ll be easier to talk once we both calm down.

With a sneer, he reached around Celisse and grabbed Bridgette’s arm above the elbow. Drops of saliva spewed as he talked. Now.

Celisse pulled Bridgette’s arm away from him with a wrist release technique, then pushed Bridgette back another step. She’s coming with me. And if you attempt to hurt me, I won’t hesitate to file charges. I’ll have your ass locked up in a cell before nightfall. She knew that was the smart thing to do, but she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to let him go without beating the hell out of him, even if Bridgette saw.

Fucking bitch. You’ve always been Bridgette’s goddamn problem.

Celisse raised her chin. I’m glad I’ve made life difficult for you.

He lifted his hand, obviously about to backhand her across the face. She put her guard up, ready for the fight, wanting it. His hand came hurtling at her—and then he was stumbling backward.

Cullen was standing between them, facing Daryl, having just pushed him away. Leave, Cullen said to Daryl. He was just as tall as Daryl, but all muscle, not flabby girth.

Get the fuck out of the way, Daryl said.

What are you doing? Celisse demanded.

Cullen said nothing, just stood there like a cinderblock wall.

Daryl hurled a fist in a wide, swinging motion. Before it could find its target, Cullen rammed his fist into Daryl’s face. He punched perfectly, simply, straight-out, the fastest and most powerful route. A loud pop rang through the crisp air.

Daryl stumbled and held his hand to his nose.

Cullen turned his head halfway toward Celisse. Get her out of here.

What are you doing?

He sighed through his sinuses. Then as Daryl started forward, Cullen turned back to him. Daryl barreled toward Cullen with another haymaker.

Cullen blocked with his forearm and didn’t shift at all under Daryl’s weight.

With a growl, Daryl threw another punch and then another. Cullen blocked each one, and then, as if he was annoyed Daryl wasn’t getting the point, he struck Daryl’s shoulder with the heel of his palm.

Daryl twisted back and held his shoulder.

Are you done? Cullen asked.

You son of a bitch. My arm’s numb. I’m suing your ass.

You can’t sue him for self-defense, Celisse said. Sometimes the lawyer in her popped out at the oddest times. She hated it when people said things that were wrong and just stupid.

Cullen glanced at her, then turned back to Daryl as he came at him again. This time, Cullen grabbed his arm and twisted it into a hammerlock. He had Daryl’s arm folded behind his back while he held Daryl against him, his arm at Daryl’s throat. He struggled, but Cullen cinched Daryl’s arm farther up his back. It would break, or at least his shoulder would pop out of its socket, if he pushed it up any more.

Cullen looked at Celisse and demanded, Go.

This is nothing to do with you.

Son of a bitch. Cullen turned his attention back to Daryl as he tried again to struggle. Cullen smacked him facedown onto the hood of his car, which was parked right next to Celisse’s.

Then there was a loud snap, either Daryl’s arm or shoulder.

Fuck, Daryl roared.

Cullen looked at Celisse. Get her the fuck out of here.

Bridgette tugged at Celisse’s arm. Please, she whispered.

Celisse looked at her, at her red eyes and wet cheeks. She was sobbing and barely breathing through the tears. Celisse glanced at Cullen and Daryl. She yearned to show that women could fight—but Bridgette was more important. She stepped back and unlocked her car.

I’ll call the police, Celisse told Cullen.

Go.

Bridgette sat in the passenger seat as Celisse started the engine. As they turned out of the lot, Cullen lifted Daryl by the back of his shirt and smashed his face again into the hood with a hollow metal thud. Blood splattered.

BRIDGETTE SAT AT CELISSE’S little kitchen table. What do you think he’ll do?

Daryl doesn’t know where I live. He won’t find you.

I mean Cullen.

Celisse set a plate with a turkey sandwich in front of Bridgette.

Thanks.

Celisse took the next chair. What do you mean, about Cullen?

You don’t think he’ll hurt Daryl any worse, do you?

Screw Daryl.

I’m not worried about Daryl, really. I just don’t want Cullen to get into trouble. I’m thankful to him. If Daryl would have hurt you... She looked down at her plate.

Just like she told Cullen she would, Celisse called the police as soon as they had pulled out of the parking lot. She had done it partially for Bridgette, so they could get a police report filed against Daryl, and partially to help Cullen get Daryl under control, though he didn’t seem to need any help.

Tomorrow she figured she would talk Bridgette into going to the station, filling out