Page 21 of Enemies with Benefits (Finding the Right Brother #1)

"Really," I said, walking over to the storage unit in the corner to pull out gloves, letting him take his pick.

"They're expensive, but they know how to make sure no one gets in here drunk and does stupid shit.

Or at least, they do to a point, but they make sure that anything damaged gets back to them quickly. "

"Huh," he said, finding a pair and making his way toward the ring and climbing over the rope. "Bet that costs a pretty penny."

"It does," I said with a snort, following him into the ring. "But you get what you pay for, so I'm pretty happy."

"You never were afraid of showing off," he said with a roll of his eyes as he craned his neck from one side to the other, rolling his shoulders as he went.

"What? Should I be humble?"

"Can you be humble?"

"I can fake it, which doesn't count."

"No. It doesn't."

"Exactly, so what's the point?"

He sighed, and I watched his shoulders tense for a moment before his fist pistoned toward me.

I was ready, not surprised to find that for all the platitudes about being honorable when we were younger, he was still willing to take a cheap shot at me.

Sadly for him, though, I remembered how nasty and cheap he could be under all those honorable attempts when he thought it might get him a leg up.

"Wow," I grunted when his first blow and his follow-up hit my gloves and the side of my arm rather than their intended target. "You still going for the cheap shots when you think you've got the chance? Hope you aren't like that on the job."

He sneered, going for my side, and I weaved, pushing him back with a few jabs of my own that weren't meant to get me anything other than some space from his aggression. "And are you really trying to get me pissed off this early?"

"You always fight worse when you're pissed."

"It's not working. I'm a good cop."

"Funny, Kayden made it sound like you got yourself into some hot water recently...again."

His next swing went wild at the mention, and I smirked as I brought the glove up to his middle.

He still had enough sense to tighten his gut against the blow, but it was the first direct hit either of us had managed during our bobbing and weaving.

It didn't matter if it was petty or not, the fact that I got the first blow in after getting under his skin when he acted like I wouldn't be able to was a delicious victory, even if it was a couple of battles rather than the whole fight.

"He didn't tell you shit, not something like that," he said, going for another hit.

I redirected and pushed him back, jarring his elbow with one blow. "Maybe he did, maybe he didn't."

"He didn't."

"Yet I know somehow."

"Isn't hard to find out shit if you want to, and you were always good with people. Always had people tell you shit."

"True, but I don't live down here anymore. Just who am I going to pump for information?"

"Who the fuck knows with you?"

I snorted. “You have a lot more confidence in me than most people. Maybe under all that bitching and moaning, you actually like me."

"Go to hell!"

As I expected, he was getting more aggressive with each comment, each time I used the sarcastic, condescending tone that had always gotten on his nerves.

If it wasn't for the fact that my words were making him come at me a lot harder than before, I might have marveled at how things between us had changed so little.

We should have been, in theory, different people, with the years between now and the last time we'd seen one another—some changes, some growth.

Yet here we were, continuing the bitter rivalry we'd fostered in our teens like it was an old familiar game.

"It's okay to admit you like me," I said with a snort, dodging under the next blow and going low. Jace immediately responded by putting his arms together and shoving me back, putting both of us at a safe distance, and leaving me to consider how to approach the next round of jabs and punches.

"Everything's a fucking joke to you, isn't it?” he asked with a huff. "Was that what you really brought me here for? To prove you can piss me off like you used to?"

"Jesus, really? Because if that was the case, I would have had my proof back at the hotel," I said, pivoting into his space and jabbing, trying to put him on the defensive.

Anger made him sloppy, but being put on the defensive was a good way to create a lot of openings for me.

"Being pissed because I said something comes as naturally to you as breathing. "

"Maybe try being less of a bastard," he said, locking his arm around my neck and jabbing my exposed side while I protected my gut.

He was a little bigger than me, but not so big that I wasn't able to dig my heels into the mat and shove him into the post in one corner of the ring.

I have no idea how he didn't see that coming, he should have expected I’d try something like that, considering my limited options.

Well, then again, when was the last time he'd fought someone in a ring?

And for that matter, he was an unusually large man, and big men like him weren't used to opponents who could contend with their size, strength, and weight.

That gave me enough time to yank out of his arm, jabbing at his face as I backed up to get my bearings.

He was clearly not ready to let me have my space, probably knowing that giving me time to think was a bad idea.

If I could think, I could plan, but more importantly, thinking meant I could find ways to turn the screws and drive him even crazier.

"That's ripe," I grunted, twisting and bending to block his blows.

"You calling someone a bastard. We're both assholes, I just have the self-awareness to admit it.

You still like to think of yourself as this golden boy who hasn't been discovered yet.

Let it go already, Jace. You're a prick and you're always going to be a prick! "

"Shut the fuck up!” he all but snarled as he rushed me, his swings strong but wild.

"You might have everyone else willing to put up with your shit, but I'm not!

Arrogant bastard. You've got a whole great family, had a good life, and you still act like you've got an excuse for your dickhead behavior. "

"Is that," I began with a grunt, barely catching one of his hooks before it caught me. It was enough of a blow that I felt it vibrate along my upper body and send a ripple of pain after it, "what you think? Damn, I'm going to have to take back that comment about you knowing me pretty well."

"Stop talking!” he said and rushed me.

I sidestepped, sticking out my foot and reaching to grab his shoulder so I could fling him over my leg and send him flying into the post. "Get over yourself, Jace.

The difference between us isn't the fact that you grew up poor, with shitty parents, and I grew up with a dead dad, a crazy family, and a hotel as a home.

You're an arrogant asshole with anger issues, and I'm an arrogant asshole with my own anger issues.

But the real difference is that at some point, you decided there has to be a reason for everything.

That's why you feel this need to wrap yourself up in an image of what you should be; that way, you can say you beat all the reasons that made you an angry asshole.

But you know what? There is no reason. We choose to be these people every fucking day, and until you figure that out and stop hanging onto bullshit like it's important when there's actual important shit to worry about, you aren't going to be happy.

And if you can't be happy, how the fuck are you going to be a positive part of my nephew's life? "

There was no response as he got on his hands and knees.

I could see the way his body went taut, and I knew what was about to happen.

Admittedly, knowing that didn't do a whole lot to help me when he finally flung himself at me.

Yet, even knowing what he was going to do before he launched himself, I hadn't been as prepared for the sheer force as he surged forward.

The wind was knocked out of me even though I managed to brace at the last second for the blow, which meant I probably prevented something far worse from happening.

I managed to keep from immediately holding onto him and slamming my arms onto the mat to take some of the force as I went down hard, his weight bearing down on me.

With a snarl, I punched him in the side of the head, no longer caring that this was originally supposed to be a 'friendly' match.

He had gone for significant damage with that slam, padded, shock absorbing mat or not, that had hurt like hell, and that was with me mitigating the possible damage.

I didn't know how, but at some point, the glove on my fist was yanked off as we flailed against one another, both grappling to get the other under control.

With my fist free, however, I didn't hesitate to punch him in the side of the head, only being reminded of how bad an idea that was when pain wrapped its claws around my hand as I yanked it back with a hiss.

Thankfully, I'd hit him in a soft place, so it didn't feel like I'd broken anything, but I had definitely caused him enough pain to loosen his hold and let me wrap my legs around him to try to wrestle him onto his side so I could get a better angle to attack.

"Fucking fists? Seriously?” he snarled, trying to yank one of his gloves off, so I had to grapple with his arms to not only keep him from pinning me, but from getting the glove off and making him more dangerous.

And although it wasn't easy to think clearly, I still knew that both fights were ones I wanted to win and come out on top completely, but in the end, I could only pick one to win, so I didn't lose both.