...Seven Years Ago...

Locking the front door to The Cage, Beau shivered as

cold, crisp air blew against his exposed skin. Snow was in

the forecast and since it was nearly ten o’clock at night, the

temperatures were barely in the low thirties. He pulled the

front of his leather jacket closed and moved toward his truck

as quickly as he could, wanting to escape the frigid weather.

He was also beyond exhausted and just wanted to go home

to sleep.

After buying the gym from his dad, Beau had been

putting in extra-long hours to renovate the inside of the gym

and update all the equipment. Not that there had been

anything wrong with the way his Pop had it, but Pop had

encouraged Beau to make The Cage his own, so he had

been painting the walls, installing new workout equipment,

and building new fighting cages.

Pulling his keys from his pocket, he hit the unlock

button on the fob and was reaching for the door handle

when he heard a woman screaming.

“Help me! Help!”

Looking around, he tried to figure out which direction

the voice was coming from. Furrowing his brows, he jogged

to the edge of the parking lot when he heard the woman

scream again.

“Help! Rape! Help!”

Looking to his left, Beau realized the voice was

coming from that direction, so he took off running. Every

nerve in his body was screaming at him to move faster and

find the woman. His brain was terrified of what he might find

but he was also seeing red as his rage rose to the surface.

“Help!”

The pleading voice made his blood run cold, but he

knew he was getting closer as her pleas were getting louder.

Rounding a corner, he heard the woman scream again, and

when he looked to his right, he could see movement down

an alleyway. He ran as fast as he could until he got closer to

the people who were scuffling.

“Help me! Please, help me!” she screamed.

“Hey! Let her go!” Beau roared.

The attacker froze briefly, but Beau could see the

man’s hand around her throat in a tight grip. The woman

that had been screaming was definitely not a woman, but a

teenager. Even though the alley was dark, there was a glow

of a nearby streetlamp illuminating them, and he could see

the terror etched on her face. He could also see her shirt

was ripped open.

Beau ran directly up to the attacker and jumped on

his back, pulling the man away from her. Both of them

landed on the ground with a painful thud, but within

seconds, they were back on their feet. Little did the man

know, Beau was a trained fighter, and this man wouldn’t

stand a chance in a fistfight with him. Pulling his arm back,

he swung forward, hitting the man in the jaw, and then with

his other arm, punched him in the throat.

The man stumbled back but kept his balance, and the

look in his eyes was pure evil. Suddenly he sprang forward,

and before Beau could react, he felt a burning pain low in

his abdomen. Looking down, Beau saw the blade of the

man’s knife being pulled from his body and then the man

pulled his hand back, ready to stab again.

 As his hand came forward with the knife, Beau

charged toward him, punching him in the eye. Another

source of burning pain, this time in his thigh, had him

growling in both pain and rage. One of them were going to

die in this battle, and it wasn’t going to be him.

Reaching behind his back, he pulled his black Kimber

1911 pistol from the waistband of his pants, and just as the

attacker’s hand was coming forward to stab him again he

pulled the trigger once, hitting the man square in the chest,

dropping him to the ground.

Beau kicked the knife away from his body and then

turned to find the girl crouched down on the ground,

sobbing. She cried out as he walked toward her and tried to

back away from him, but she couldn’t move any further.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re

bleeding, and I want to make sure you’re okay,” Beau said

calmly.

The girl looked past him at the dead man on the

ground and then moved her eyes to the gun he was still

holding at his side. He quickly tucked his gun into the

waistband of his jeans again and held up his hands for her

to see.

“I promise I won’t hurt you. My name is Beau Javier. I

heard you screaming when I was coming out of my

business. I just want to help you,” he said, hoping that

giving her some information about him would make her feel

more comfortable.

“Can I come closer?” he asked.

She gave him a small nod. Her entire body trembled,

and Beau realized the top half of her body was almost bare

besides the bra she was wearing. He didn’t know if her

trembling was from the freezing temperatures or from fear.

He guessed it was a little of both.

Pulling off his jacket, he held it out for her as he

walked closer.

“Here, take my jacket. It’s freezing out here, and I

don’t want you to get hypothermia.”

When she didn’t reach out to take it from his hand,

Beau walked closer, and when he was close enough, he

lifted the jacket and put it gently around her shoulders.

Kneeling down, Beau studied her face. She was dirty and had a fresh bruise on her face as well as what looked like an

older bruise.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Emma,” she said, barely loud enough for him to

hear.

“That’s a pretty name. Emma, I’m going to call the

police. You need medical treatment.”

He pulled out his phone from his back pocket and

started dialing when her small, shaking hand reached out to

stop him.

“You can’t. You’ll go to jail for killing him. You saved

me. You have to go, or they’ll arrest you,” she said,

sounding more mature than she looked.

Lifting his gaze to the young girl, Beau could tell she

was genuinely scared for him, but he wouldn’t leave her,

and he knew that even if he got arrested, the charges would

be dropped since it was self-defense.

“You’re bleeding. I’m not leaving you. I’ll be fine. Just

stay there and cover up with my jacket as much as

possible.”

“I think they’re just scratches,” she said shakily.

“Doesn’t matter. You need medical attention,” he

replied.

He pressed the call button before she could protest

again.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I just found a young girl being attacked. The guy had

a knife and stabbed me twice, and I shot him. He’s dead,

but the girl needs medical attention. She’s bleeding.”

Beau gave the dispatch person all the details, and

they told him the police and medics would be there within a

few minutes.

“Emma, no matter what happens, just listen to what

the police say, okay? They’ll probably put me in handcuffs,

but you don’t need to freak out if they do. It’s standard procedure until they know I’m not a threat. Everything will

be okay. Look at me. I mean it. Everything will be okay.”

She was crying, but she nodded up at him. He

realized he was no longer cold, but he knew that was

because of his adrenaline.

Suddenly, Emma grabbed his wrist. “You’re bleeding!”

Beau suddenly felt woozy, and when he looked down,

the bottom half of his shirt and his pants were coated in

blood.

“I’ll be okay. You come first. You need medical

attention. Tell the cops everything he did to you.

Understand?” Beau said firmly.

She nodded, her big, glassy eyes watching him

closely. When she looked down at the body on the ground,

he moved in front of her gaze.

“Don’t look at him. He did something terrible, and he

deserved it. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. Understood?”

he told her sternly.

When she didn’t respond, he leaned forward and

hooked his finger under her chin, so she had to look up at

him.

“Understood, Emma?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” she answered quietly.

Beau nodded. She looked younger than fifteen but

sounded much more mature than that.

“Do you want my phone so you can call your

parents?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t have any parents. I’m

a foster kid.”

A knot formed in his stomach as Beau studied the

bruises on her face.

“Those bruises from your foster parents?”

She didn’t say anything but the vulnerable look in her

eyes and the slight nod gave him the answer to his question.

Before he could say anything else, the sound of sirens

approached, and dozens of police cars swarmed both sides

of the alleyway, along with two ambulances.

“Remember what I said. Do what the police tell you to

do and don’t worry about me. And tell the police about who

gave you those bruises on your face. I mean it.”

She stared up at him as he pulled his gun out of the

waistband of his pants and set it down on the ground before

putting his hands in the air as police officers ran toward him.

As soon as an officer started putting handcuffs on him,

Emma started screaming.

“Don’t hurt him! He saved me! He saved me!”

Turning his head, Beau watched as two medics held

her back from running toward him. Despite her disobeying

his instructions not to freak out, Beau had to swallow a lump

of emotion that was forming in his throat over the small girl

trying to protect him from being arrested.

“Emma, let them help you. I’ll be fine. Remember

what I said,” he shouted over the sirens.

She instantly stopped struggling against the medics

and watched him silently, tears dripping down her cheeks as

the police read him his rights and began asking questions.

“Thank you,” she mouthed to him silently as she was

loaded onto a stretcher.

Beau nodded, giving her the most reassuring smile he

could manage. He might have had to take a life, but he also

saved an innocent one, and that was worth everything.

The next thing he knew, the world was slowly going

black as he tried to listen to what the officers were asking

him.

“He’s bleeding out! We need a stretcher over here

now!” a voice shouted as Beau fell to the ground.

...Present Time...

Beau

Thwap! Thwap!

Thwap! Thwap!

Sweat dripped down his face as he continuously hit

the heavy punching bag in front of him. Sleep had evaded

him the night before and he had no idea why. Well, okay, he

had a small inkling as to why. Their names were Addie and

Kylie, two Littles who had quickly become part of his family,

yet neither of them belonged to him. Not that he wanted his

brothers’ women. No, that wasn’t it. But the presence of the

two women in the family made the void in Beau’s life all

that more prominent.

So, there he was, punching the shit out of a bag,

trying to work out the aggression and tiredness he was

feeling, hoping by the time he was done that he would fall

asleep for at least a few hours. Sleep had been an issue for

Beau since he was young, especially after Celeste had been

murdered. There were months after her death that he’d

barely gotten two hours of sleep a night. Now he could

usually get four hours, maybe five if he was lucky.

Breathing through each hit, Beau landed punch after

punch onto the bag until his fists ached, and he was

practically swaying from exhaustion. Cinnamon, the dog

that he had rescued a few months back, trotted up to him

with her tail wagging. He brought her to The Cage, the MMA

gym he owned, every day when he went to work. The poor

dog had been a bait dog in a dog fighting ring and had been

left out to die until he and his brother Ash had gone and

rescued her.

Pulling his gloves off, Beau squatted down to the floor

and stroked Cinnamon’s head. She was a reddish-colored pit

bull with white markings on her chest. Her face was scarred

from however long she’d been used for other, stronger dogs

to practice their attacks on but now, other than the physical scars, Cinnamon was just a normal, happy dog. It had taken

a few weeks before she started coming out of her shell after

he had brought her home, but once she did and Beau

started bringing her to work with him, the only thing that

would give off the fact that she had been a fighting dog

were the scars.

Members at the gym loved her, and as much as he

hated to admit it, he had totally fallen in love with the dog.

He had planned on only fostering her until she had healed,

and then he was going to find her a loving home, but the

missing feeling of love in his life had been quickly filled by

Cinnamon.

“Hey, girl,” he said, scratching her behind the ears.

She greeted him back with excited panting and tail

wags. When she tried to lick the sweat off of his face, Beau

chuckled and stood to avoid her slobbery tongue.

“Hey, son.”

Beau looked up to find his dad walking toward him

with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Despite being in his

late fifties, his Pop was still in as good shape as Beau and

his brothers. Pop had been a boxer all his life, and the years

of training still reflected on his physique.

“Hey, Pop. What are you up to? It’s early for you to be

here.”

Beau looked at the clock on the wall. It was only nine

in the morning. Pop usually didn’t come into the gym until

the afternoon.

“I’m going to lunch and a movie with Claire today, but

I still wanted to get a workout in,” Pop said.

His dad was already wrapping his hands to get ready

to put his gloves on. Cinnamon walked over and sat in front

of Pop, who started stroking her fur and talking gently to

her.

Claire was his brother’s girlfriend’s mom, and though

Pop denied to Ash that he was dating her, Beau was pretty

sure there was something between the two. If it hadn’t been for Pop getting angry when Ash had asked him about it,

Beau would have started asking questions, but he didn’t

really want to get into it with his dad so early in the

morning.

“Why do you look like shit?” Pop asked.

Beau gave his dad an exasperated look.

“I’m not sleeping well,” Beau said dryly.

Pop nodded, studying Beau for a long moment.

“What’s bothering you, son?”

His dad knew him too well sometimes.

He shrugged and grabbed his workout towel from the

bench where Pop was sitting, wiping the sweat from his

face.