Submit (Out of the Octagon, #1)
Submit
Out of the Octagon, Volume 1
Lexy Timms
Published by Dark Shadow Publishing, 2017.
Copyright 2017 Lexy Timms
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
All rights reserved.
Submit
Outside the Octagon Book # 1
Copyright 2017 by Lexy Timms
Cover by: Book Cover by Design
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Copyright Page
Also By Lexy Timms
Submit (Out of the Octagon, #1)
Submit Description:
Outside the Octagon
Find Lexy Timms:
Want to read more... | For FREE?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Further Reading: Faking It
Also By Lexy Timms
Submit Description:
Violent, painfully loyal, and willing to win at all costs.
Aedan Kearney learned from an early age that the only person he could count on was himself. Growing up on the rough side of New York City, he’s no stranger to a fight. He k
nows how to outlast the best of them—at least that’s what he’s trying to do. An ultimate fighter standing on the edge of something big.
Rescuing a beautiful woman and her friends from two street thugs isn’t exactly on Aedan’s list of to-dos, but he can’t just walk away. Rosalyn Thomas is sweet—so not the right kind of girl for him. She’s above his pay grade, and out of his social class. Mesmerized by her beauty, he can’t stop himself from tasting her just one time.
Except the heart wants what the heart wants and Outside the Octagon, you never know what is going to happen.
Outside the Octagon
Submit
Book 1
Fight
Book 2
Knockout
Book 3
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Contents
Submit Description:3
Outside the Octagon4
Find Lexy Timms:5
Want to read more for Free? 6
Chapter 18
Chapter 224
Chapter 335
Chapter 451
Chapter 562
Chapter 678
Chapter 789
Chapter 8107
Chapter 9116
Chapter 10133
Chapter 11152
Chapter 12166
Chapter 13179
Chapter 14190
Chapter 15199
Chapter 16212
Chapter 17221
Chapter 18232
Chapter 19240
More by Lexy Timms:249
Chapter 1
Aedan Kearney stalked along the gritty sidewalk on Longwood Avenue, his head down. It was late, and he wanted to be home, in bed. Preferably with some woman. But if not with a woman, at least asleep.
The day had been a long one and his body and head were exhausted. But he was restless and keyed up as well, looking for some kind of quick release. A bad combination; it made him edgy and uncomfortable in his own skin. He knew if he wanted, he could find something on this street that would take the edge off, make him relax. That was one of the great things about New York: pretty much anything you wanted, someone was selling, or offering.
Except that was a line he wasn’t willing to cross, for many reasons.
One of those reasons was the person responsible for his current mental and physical exhaustion. Other reasons lived within his past, people and events he’d tried hard to forget but never quite managed to put entirely behind him. Maybe that was the curse of not falling victim to the same lifestyle they had; he wasn’t going to repeat it, but he was powerless to forget.
Frank, his trainer at the gym, had put him through his paces, working Aedan harder than he usually did. Pushing him, yelling at him when he let up, when he tried to cut corners, when he asked for a break. It pissed him off when Frank wouldn’t stop.
But as angry as it made him—that anger served a purpose. It fueled him, kept him going. His trainer was the only person who could get away with making Aedan angry and not suffer for it. Frank was the only person Aedan respected enough to let him pull that kind of thing.
Frank’s the only one who understands...
Even with that, there were still things about Aedan even Frank didn’t know, that Aedan hadn’t trusted him with. Stuff that was no one’s business. Things that were just too painful to bring to the forefront. Aedan scoffed. The old guy probably already knew anyway. Most of the kids who went through his gym were running from the same past.
Still, Aedan wasn’t interested in opening up about the shit that haunted him, even with his most trusted friend.
As he walked along, he thought about the upcoming fight. It was still a couple of months down the road—an eternity since he couldn’t wait for the match-up. There were scouts, Frank said, who’d be there, guys who could take him on to bigger matches, gigs with payouts, and a chance to fight professionally, get him out of the amateur, underground scene.
No guarantees, but just maybe, if he worked hard enough...
The rest was left unsaid.
His head came up suddenly, his senses on high alert. He heard something ahead, sounds of a confrontation. Fights in the Bronx were a dime a dozen, especially now that it was warm, and he’d certainly been in enough of them to recognize the sound of one. He heard a woman’s cry, maybe more than one, high-pitched and scared. Men’s voices raised in aggression. Probably just a pimp and his girl.
Except it wasn’t a pimp.
As he made his way around the corner, his eyes swept over the scene. A small knot of people stood in the street. Three well-dressed young women and two rugged punks—one tall, dark-haired, skinny guy and a shorter, heavier one with lighter hair. Aedan didn’t recognize any of them and he knew most of the pimps, hookers and street rats in this neighborhood. Hell, he was one of them.
But these guys weren’t part of the neighborhood, and his exhaustion was instantly gone in a rush of fiery adrenaline. Because they were sure as hell interested in the women. Women who definitely weren’t hookers. They were far too well dressed and looked far too afraid to be working the streets, especially this street. Something told him if the men got their way, it wouldn’t end well for those three.
Aedan didn’t care whether they were after money or something else, he simply followed on instinct—the instinct that told him to dive in with his fists first and ask questions later. He moved in quietly, lightly, a slight bounce to his step, gaze tracking their motions as he approached.
It happened so quickly that no one in the circle even saw it coming.
The skinny guy received a blow to his mid-section that doubled him over, gasping for breath. He fell to his knees before tumbling hard to his side, like a demolished building. Aedan stepped around him, eyes already on Blondie.
Aedan had lost the element of surprise and Blondie turned on him, ready to fight. What Aedan had thought in the dim light was just a pudgy gut and nothing to worry about turned out to be a wall of muscle. Blondie charged, growling like a wild animal.
Aedan held his ground. Relaxed and loose, he watched the guy come at him. His eyes never left the flushed face, the teeth bared in a growl of rage. With the ease of years spent on the street and in the gym, Aedan swiftly sidestepped Blondie’s charge, bringing his closed fist down against the side of the guy’s neck.
Blondie coughed once, then vomited a thick stream of what appeared to be tomato sauce. His momentum carried him forward, and most of the vomit spilled down his shirt and over his pants, spattering on the pavement. He stumbled to a halt, hands on his knees, still gagging and retching, shaking his head in confusion, struggling to breathe.
Skinny had finally managed to suck in a lungful of air and was hauling himself to his feet. He lumbered forward, taking a roundhouse swing at Aedan’s head, which Aedan easily ducked beneath. Aedan took one step forward, pivoted and brought his foot up, kicking Skinny in the back, low. Then he swung around and caught him in the jaw. Aedan heard the click of Skinny’s teeth coming together and knew the guy had probably bitten his tongue.
Skinny did a repeat of his earlier performance, dropping to the ground with a thud. He didn’t get up this time, but lay there moaning. Aedan could hear Blondie coughing behind him, and he turned, watching the big man as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
Aedan stayed loose and relaxed, fists held ready, waiting for either of them to make the next move.
But Blondie s
taggered over to Skinny, pulling him to his feet with his eyes fixed warily on Aedan. A trickle of blood ran down Skinny’s chin. They silently backed away. When Aedan raised his fists and feinted forward, faking another attack, they spun quickly, breaking into a shambling run. They turned at the corner and dashed out of sight.
Aedan watched a moment longer, his body slowly relaxing, before turning back to where the girls were huddled together on the sidewalk.
“You okay?” He took a step forward, both hands palm out to show that he had no intention of hurting them.
One girl took a step backward, tugging on her friend’s arm. “No...no, we’re fine. Um...thanks.”
Her friend nodded nervously.
The third held her ground, looking him directly in the eyes.
A moment of confusion shot through him. Not many people, much less women unless they were professionals, held his gaze. They said his eyes were cold, intimidating. It was something he used to his advantage with his opponents.
But apparently not this girl.
The girl had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen, and he’d stared into many green eyes in his life. But there was something else there, a fire he’d never seen before. It caught him off guard.
It also made him wary. Cautious. Why was this girl making him so curious? Step back, man. This is not a good combination.
“You shouldn’t be here.” He looked over their expensive clothes. Short skirts, nicely cut hair, and perfectly manicured nails. He shook his head. Spoiled rich girls slumming for the night. “You’re lost, aren’t you?” He didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in his voice.
“As a matter of fact, yes. We are.” The second girl spoke, her tone aggressive but her voice unable to hide a shake. False bravado now that the real danger was past.
The blonde—the girl who had looked him in the eye—took a step toward him. She seemed tipsy maybe, a bit wobbly on her feet, but she held out her hand. “I’m Rosa Thomas.”