Fatal Knockout (Knockout Series Book 1) Read online

  “Southern men,” I huff, taking a seat on the bench. When I look up to the television, I see a familiar set of proud, yet humble, dark brown eyes. I pick up the remote next to me and turn up the volume. Blaze interacts with the commentators and acknowledges his fans. As he wraps up his interview, he shouts out those who’ve remained by his side throughout his journey. “Before I go, I want to tell my little man, Bentley, this win was for you, bud. We love you very much. I want to say thanks to the world’s greatest trainer, who has dealt with me tossing him around for the last eight weeks.” He pauses to laugh, and then he adds, “But, most importantly, my gorgeous wife, Madisyn…I love you, baby. Without you, Mads, I wouldn’t be standing here in this arena.”

  Warm, happy tears fill my eyes. No matter how many times I try to convince Blaze he didn’t need me to make it big, he disagrees. I knew from our first encounter that he was going to make it to the top. He was, and still is, the most amazing and determined fighter I’ve ever met. It was only a matter of time before he’d get signed with one of the largest organizations in the world. Blaze is here in this arena tonight because he was compassionate about chasing and capturing his dream. Blaze Benson never gave up—he never gives up. He deserves every bit of fame he gets. He is the reason for his success, no one else.

  Blaze bids the commentators a goodnight and I go over to the shower and turn on the water. As soon as the water heats, Blaze asks, “You’re still dressed?” I turn around and find his eyes roaming my body, curiously. He tosses his gloves and wrapping aside, and then lowers his shorts. Right away, my body acts as if this is the first time Blaze has stood before me, glistening with sweat and completely naked. My heart begins to race and my legs feel weak. “I wa-was watching you on—” He cuts me off. “It doesn’t matter, because they’re coming off—now.” He steps to me and slips his fingers under the collar of my shirt. With a quick and strong tug, he rips it down the middle. Gently, he trails his fingers across my collarbone and slides them under the tattered material, guiding my shirt down my arms until it falls to the floor.

  His fingertips tickle down my stomach until they reach the waistband of my shorts. Squatting, he lowers my bottoms and kisses each of my hips. He kisses all over my stomach, between my breasts, and along the front of my neck. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and crash my lips to his. His brawny hands travel down my sides and stop at my thighs, where he picks me up and urges my legs around his waist.

  Blaze holds me with one arm as he pushes the vinyl curtain aside and walks us into the heated mist. “No thinking, just feeling. Yeah?” Knowing exactly what he’s talking about, I nod. I’m nervous about a number of things that could go wrong with this pregnancy, but having my husband make love to me definitely isn’t one of them. “Good. Eyes on me, baby.” With my back resting against the cool and moist tile, he lifts my hips and sinks himself into me. His girth sends an erotic, electric sensation shooting through my core like a vicious bolt of lightning.

  As he rocks his hips against mine, my head falls back and a sneaky moan passes my lips. Suddenly, he pushes his hips into mine to hold me against the wall. He takes my head between his hands, lifts it upright, and whispers against my lips, “Open your eyes and look into mine, Madisyn. This is important. You show emotions through your eyes, baby. And when I fill you, I want to know that I’m all you’re thinking of.” Wrapped in a billow of steam, I lift my lids, gaze deep into his eyes, and breathe, “Only you.” Shaking his head, he kisses me softly and says, “Us. Only us.”

  Five

  Blaze

  “Why do you keeplooking at me like that?” I half grin. “Like what?” Timorously smiling, she says, “Like I’m the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and scoot close to her. Taking her hands in mine, I lift them to my lips and kiss each and every knuckle. “Because you are.” She rolls her eyes at me, acting as if what I’ve just said is absolutely ridiculous. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Madisyn,” I say sternly. The fact that she’s even the slightest bit self-conscious makes my blood boil. I release one of her hands, take her chin between my fingers, and turn her face to mine. Staring deep into her bright and beautiful blues eyes, I tell her, “Baby, your beauty sticks out like a red rose among a patch of thorns, it’s easily recognized and it knows no bounds. You, Madisyn Benson, are the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  As soon as I lean in to kiss her, my cell rings. “You should probably answer that,” she smiles against my lips. “I probably should, but I’m not.” She wraps her arms around my neck and swings her leg over mine to straddle me. “Good,” she breathes. She runs her fingers through my hair and tugs my head to the side. Then, she lowers her hot little mouth to my neck and kisses each of my weak spots, beginning beneath my jaw and ending at my ear. Again, my phone goes off and I ignore it. “It could be important,” she whispers in my ear. “Baby, you’re right here. Nothing or no one trumps you.” I guide my hand up her back, tangle my fingers in her hair, and urge her mouth to mine. “How are you—” My phone rings for the third time. “Dammit,” I groan. “Just answer it,” she says, returning her lips to the side of my neck. Frustrated, I pick up my cell and answer without checking to see who it is calling me. “Yeah?” My heart leaps into my throat when I hear my baby sister cry, “Blaze, it’s Bentley.”

  Madisyn

  We caught the first flight home after we heard the news Bentley had been admitted to the children’s hospital. He went into a seizure and remained unresponsive for several minutes afterwards. “Who’s your favorite?” his nurse asks. She is dressed in black pants and an Avengers scrub top. He points and says, “The Hulk.” She fastens a small cuff around his arm and takes his blood pressure. “Yeah? Why’s that?” Bentley furrows his eyebrows and looks at her like she’s insane. “Have you seen his muscles?” She smiles and nods. “They are pretty big, huh? I bet he eats a lot of green foods, like, broccoli and green beans.” Bentley scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “His momma wouldn’t make him eat those things.” She giggles. “I bet you’re right.” She removes the cuff from his tiny arm and rubs his head. “Alright, bud, I’ll see you later.” She types Bentley’s vitals into her laptop and turns her attention to Keisha. “Dr. Kessler is making rounds this morning and so he should be in anytime.” Keisha faintly smiles. “Thank you.”

  Everyone is trying to keep their minds off of what’s happening; Keisha’s flipping aimlessly through People magazine, Blaze is spinning around on the stool like a kid, and Bentley is playing Angry Birds on his iPad. Me? I’m lying next to Bentley, rubbing his peach fuzzed head. “Mads, you hungry?” Blaze asks. I wouldn’t say I’m hungry, per se, but I am a little nauseous. “Not really, no. But, I wouldn’t turn down a pack of graham crackers and a pint of low fat milk, you know, if someone offered them to me,” I smile. He stands from the stool and walks over to kiss my head. “You got it, baby,” he says softly, gently rubbing his hand over my stomach. Keisha asks him to grab her a cup of yogurt with granola and a cup of coffee on his way back up. Once he’s gone, she looks to me and asks, “How’s baby Benson treatin’ you?”

  I get off the bed and go over to sit beside her on the two person sofa. “Surprisingly well.” I look down at my flat stomach and remember how sick I was with Eli. “With Eli, my word, I couldn’t keep so much as a sip of water down. That pregnancy, well, it was intense.” She closes the magazine and tosses it onto the side table. Then, she sits up and gazes across the room at her baby boy, who dozed off playing his game. “It’s crazy… what we go through for our children.” A tear falls from her eye and she hastily wipes it away. “We go through months of nausea and vomiting, back pain, Braxton Hicks, peeing ourselves when we laugh or cough too hard. I mean, our boobs swell up and leak milk, and we compare ourselves to that cow from the Blue Bell ice cream commercial,” she drifts off, half laughing through her tears. “You go through your pregnancy thinking labor is the worst pain you’ll ever experience, but it isn’t. Deliveri
ng a baby doesn’t hurt; loving him this much and not being able to protect him when he needs it most—that what hurts. I’d give anything to trade places with him,” she chokes.

  I reach over and rest my hand on her arm. “It’s okay, you know? Crying isn’t a sign of weakness, Keisha.” She lifts her hand and sets it atop of mine. “No, but it is a sign of shaken faith. No matter the thoughts that run through my mind, I won’t let them consume my heart. I can’t question God, Mads. I won’t. I can’t afford to.” I pull my hand out from under hers and wrap my arms around her. “Good morning.” Dr. Kessler enters without warning. I drop my arms and the both of us stand to greet him. He walks over to Bentley and gives his shoulder a little nudge. Bentley opens his eyes and flashes a faint smile. Dr. Kessler removes the draped stethoscope from around his neck and shows it to Bentley. “I’m going to take a quick listen to your drum to make sure it’s in tune. Will that be okay?” Bentley nods, weakly.

  After he listens to Bentley’s heart and lungs, he slings the tubing back around his neck and helps Bentley sit up. Then, he spreads the back of Bent’s gown open and looks over the bruises covering his back. “Besides the bruising, how’s this little guy been acting at home?” The door opens and Blaze interject, “Watch calling him little, doc. He doesn’t like it much.” He shuts the door behind him and delivers my crackers and milk to me. “Thank you,” I smile up at him. He winks at me and sits on the arm of the sofa.

  “My apologies, Bentley. I meant little in age, not in size. I swear it.” Dr. Kessler holds his hand out and Bentley gives him a low five. He has Bentley lie back and he picks up the covers covering his legs. “He’s got several on his shin,” Dr. Kessler frowns. “And one on his left hip,” he notices. With a sad smile occupying his lips, he turns to us and says, “Now, I don’t want you to assume the worst, but as I’ve told you in the past, always prepare for it.” Keisha drops her face into her hands and mumbles, “I don’t want to need to be prepared, not again.” I point to the box of tissues sitting on the windowsill and Blaze pulls a few out for me to give to Keisha.

  “Hold up, doc, don’t expect the worst but prepare for it? What sense does that make?” Blaze speaks up. “Well, Mr. Benson, it means that I’m going to do everything in my power to help Bentley feel like a normal five year old boy. It also means that I’m a realist, and know I am not God. I can only do as much as He will let me. I can’t make any guarantees, but I can promise you that I won’t give up on getting him back into remission,” Dr. Kessler states. “Thank you, Dr. Kessler,” I say, standing and excusing myself. Suddenly, the nausea isn’t just in my stomach, it’s coming out of it. Of course, Blaze follows me into the restroom. He holds my hair back and kisses the back of my head as I expel all contents from my stomach into the toilet. “I’ll be okay. Go back out there with Keisha, please,” I plead, finally able to speak. “You sure?” I nod and urge him out the door. “Yes. Go.”

  I look inside Keisha’s overnight bag and get her travel size bottle of mouthwash to rinse my mouth. As I turn on the cold water to splash my face, I hear the sound of steel colliding with concrete. With my face dripping and heart racing, I hurry out of the restroom and see Blaze rearing back to punch the wall. “Mr. Benson, please, I need you to calm down before you frighten—” Instantly, I yell, “Blaze, don’t,” I yell. Hesitantly, he drops his fist to his side. Then, he rests his forearms against the wall, drops his head, and inhales a few deep breaths.

  I skim the room and see the steel I heard hitting the concrete was a stool Blaze must’ve thrown into the wall. Keisha, bless her heart, has finally let her tears fall. What is wrong with him? He knows better than to lose his temper in front of Bentley. Walking up behind him, I place my hand to the middle of his back and say, “Blaze, turn around and look at me.” It takes him a cycle of breathing, but he lifts his head and turns to face me. I lift my hands to the side of his face and trace the arches of his cheek with my thumbs. “Everything is going to be just fine, you hear me? This thing they call cancer, baby, it’s only a bump in the road, not a sinking hole. Bentley is strong. I mean, look who his uncle is,” I whisper. For the first time since Eli’s burial, Blaze’s eyes fill with tears and he croaks, “He doesn’t deserve this.” Dr. Kessler puts in, “You’re right, Mr. Benson, he doesn’t. No one does. But you can’t go around throwing stools and punching walls, and expect your anger to change things. You need to be strong, Mr. Benson. Your family needs you.” His voice is calm, compassionate, and sympathetic without pity. Good. We don’t want anyone’s pity. We want hope.

  Six

  Blaze

  “Where to, Bent?” After six weeks of intensive induction therapy, Bentley got to come home. He’s lost the small amount of hair he had grown over a three month period. He’s lost somewhere between ten to fifteen pounds, and I know he’s hungry for something other than hospital food. “Umm…” he debates, gazing out the window to all the restaurants lining West End. “McDonalds,” he exclaims. I stop at the red light and look at him through my rearview mirror. “Seriously, bud? I heard their burgers are made from horses—not cows,” I scrunch my nose in disgust. I expect to see the same look on his face, but I don’t. Like most kids his age, he doesn’t care about the food, just the crappy toy they toss inside the box.

  Looking back at me, he grins and says, “That horse sure taste good.” I shake my head in disbelief. Unbelievable. “Can I make you another offer?” I ask him. “I guess,” he shrugs. “What do you say about us going to Memaw’s for lunch? I’m sure if Maddie called her, she’d bake you some of those dinosaur chicken nuggets you like.” Immediately, his eye grow wide and that grin he’s wearing stretches across his entire face. “Please, Aunt Maddie? Will you call Memaw and tell her I want some dinosaur chickens?” Giggling, Maddie picks up her phone and dials Memaw’s number. Before she presses the send button, she looks over her shoulder to Bentley and says, “I’ll only call if you promise to share.”

  Immediately, his smiles turns upside down. “With everybody?” Maddie shakes her head. “Nope, only me. Your momma and Blaze are on their own.” Bentley sighs in relief. “Good, because Uncle Blaze doesn’t know how share very well.” Maddie looks at me. “Yeah, your uncle has always been an all-or-nothing type of guy,” she winks at me. Reaching my hand over to rest on her barely noticeable baby bump, I say under my breath, “Damn straight.” My voice is too low for anyone to hear, but the way she smiles and bites onto her bottom lip tells me she heard me, loud and clear.

  Forty-five minutes of driving and we’re sitting in Memaw’s kitchen. She had Bentley’s plate of chicken and baked sweet potato fries on the table when we walked through the front door. “Blaze, I made you some of those roasted chicken salad wrap things you like. I was going to drop them off to you when I made my trip to the grocer later, but since you’re here now, you want one?” Memaw asks. “Memaw, you know I love your cookin’, but those tortillas are full of stuff I can’t hav—”

  “Oh, hush ya fussin’, child. I had your papa go on down to that Whole Foods store y’all shop at and fetch you these here low carb tortillas. They’re high in fiber, too. See, says it right here on the package,” she says, tossing the pack of tortillas on the table before me. “So they are,” I chuckle. She sets two wraps wrapped in paraffin wax paper on a plate and hands me a bottled water. “Go on, eat up.” Standing from my chair, I wrap my arms around her neck and bend down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Memaw.” She returns the gesture and stains my cheek with her red lipstick.

  “Where’s Papa?” Maddie asks, her mouth full of chicken. “You know your papa, Maddie. He’s a grumpy ole soul if he doesn’t get his afternoon nap in.” She picks up Bentley’s empty plate and drops it in the sink. “Bentley, I’d bet Papa would like it if you’re the one who wakes him. What do you say?” He jumps out of his seat. “Yes, ma’am!” He takes off through the living room and hurries up the stairs. Memaw takes his seat and begins to ask us the questions we’ve been avoiding. “How is he? He seems to be movin’ aro
und just fine,” Memaw laughs.

  “He’s okay, I guess. I mean, he’s not in remission, but they didn’t find any leukemia cells in his blood,” Keisha answers. “That’s good, right?” Keisha takes one of my wraps and bites into it. “It is good,” Maddie speaks up. “But?” Maddie takes the wrap I’m eating from my hand and begins eating it. “But, he needs a stem cell transplant,” I finish telling her, taking my wraps back from both Keisha and Maddie. “He’s been waitin’ on a donor for over a year,” Memaw frowns. “True, but I have an idea,” Maddie tells us. “You do?” Keisha and I say in unison. “Yup,” she pops her lips. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this ‘idea’?” I question her.

  “Because, I haven’t researched it just yet. I don’t want to get everyone excited and then have my plan not work,” she shrugs. “Oh-kay… You going to tell us what it is?” She holds her hand out to me. “Give me the rest of that wrap and I will,” she negotiates. “Fine. But only because he needs the protein,” I grin, looking down at her belly. “He? How do you know our baby is a he?” She gets close to my face and sinks her teeth into my lunch. “Because the Lord knows I can’t be wrapped around another woman’s fingers.” Maddie sits back in her chair and sighs. “Gah, I love… this wrap.”