Chapter Eighteen

Shrieks of laughter greeted Fighter when he entered through the front of the building, and smiling, he closed the door and stomped the snow from his feet.

Brick, holding Elijah like an airplane, was chasing Emma around the empty training facility. While the flooring wasn’t the new stuff yet, it still had some padding. When Emma tripped and went down, Brick scooped her up and placed her on her feet.

“No big deal,” Brick said using a deep sing song voice, and Emma was off and running again. Elijah waved his chubby arms in the air and Brick zoomed the baby after the little girl.

“Kind of cute, yeah?” Bishop said, coming from the office to stand next to him.

Fighter nodded with a soft smile. Bishop gave him a searching look before smirking.

“Mark is back,” Bishop said.

“Where?”

Bishop jerked his chin toward the office and Fighter gave a soft sigh. “I’ll put the kids down and then we’ll talk.”

“Want me to stick around?” Bishop asked.

“Yes.” Fighter advanced farther into the room and Emma spotted him. She ran up to him and Fighter lifted her into his arms and up high over his head. She laughed and he swung her on his hip. He found a smiling Brick walking toward him. Fighter held out his free arm and Brick handed him Elijah.

“Did they eat?” he asked, balancing both children.

“They did,” Brick said.

“I’ll be out once I get them down for a nap,” Fighter murmured, his eyes on Brick’s face. Their gazes locked and held. Warmth filled the sexy gray depths of Brick’s eyes and Fighter felt the familiar heat in his chest.

“Want me to wait?” Brick asked, tugging gently at Emma’s ponytail as the back of the man’s knuckles brushed against his shoulder.

He wanted that more than anything. It would also give Mark the chance to apologize to Brick about hitting Syn.

“Sure.”

Smiling, Fighter made his way into the back room. It took him fifteen minutes to rock Elijah to sleep and sing to Emma until she dozed off. Stepping out into the hallway, he gently closed the door.

“Mrs. Suwan!” Bishop called out loudly. “Wait please.”

“I won’t wait. Get your hands off of me!”

The start of a headache was immediate at the sound of his mother’s voice. Fighter turned the corner and she was right there swinging. Her hand slapped his face and then her fists and palms punched and slapped at his bowed head and shoulders. He no longer felt the pain of her blows. Neither physically or emotionally.

Brick had left the office the moment Bishop and Mark had launched out of their chairs when an older woman wearing boots and a jacket had slammed through the front door. Bishop had reached her first and gently took her arm, but she swung on him, screaming.

Shock held Brick still in the doorway as Bishop gave a pained sigh. The man didn’t seem surprised at all. The woman charged toward the hallway and both Brick and Mark hurried along after Bishop. By the time they reached the hallway, the woman was screaming in a foreign language at Fighter and slapping him in the face, head, and shoulders. When Fighter didn’t stop her and the woman kept hitting him, Brick wanted to fling her across the fucking room.

Fighter bowed his head beneath the onslaught of slaps and spewing words, and Brick felt his throat tighten, rage building. He didn’t know what the fuck she was saying, but by the shrieking tone of her voice, it couldn’t have been good.

Mark stepped past Brick and approached to wrap an arm around the woman’s waist. She screamed louder, but Mark didn’t release her until he had her out of the hallway and back into the training room.

Fighter followed, saying something firmly in the same language as the woman.

“Please, Mrs. Suwan, calm down,” Mark said gently.

“Get your hands off me, you faggot!” she spat, clawing at Mark’s forearm, digging grooves into his skin. When Mark hissed and abruptly released her, she whirled and clawed at the man’s face.

“Mom!” Fighter snapped, grabbing her arm, but she snatched her arm away. Mark bent over, holding his cheek.

“Give me my grandchildren!” she snarled in English, her accent thick, but there was no mistaking the threat in the words. “You are unfit to have them. You pervert!”

Unfit? Brick stared in amazement at the violent woman. If anyone was unfit, it would be her, that fact was apparent after the first few seconds of her entrance.

“XiXi left the children with me until she gets back. I can’t let you take them.”

Mrs. Suwan went off, spewing filth again, Brick was sure of it, but she was back using the other language.

Brick stalked forward and crowded Fighter back and away from the woman.

She was faced with a wall of muscle.

Mrs. Suwan was so startled, she stopped talking with her mouth hanging open. Clearly, she hadn’t seen Brick. That was how far gone she’d been, she’d missed the tattooed giant in the room.

Brick caught and held her furious brown gaze. His eyes were cold, flat, and menacing. Very slowly, he squeezed his hands into fists at his sides.

That’s all he did, but her eyes fell to his ham-sized fists and she backed hastily away.

She opened her mouth and Brick narrowed his eyes. She sucked in a breath and then thought better about whatever she’d been thinking of doing. In the next instant, she ran from the building and slammed the door.

Well, shit.

Wyatt and Hayden had not been mistaken. Fighter’s mother was a real piece of work.

Bishop cleared his throat and Fighter placed a hand on Brick’s arm before stepping past him and over to Mark.

Mark held one arm; blood dripped from the gouges on the skin as well as from the red welts on his cheek.

“I’ll check on the kids,” Bishop said and disappeared down the hallway.

Brick followed Fighter and Mark into the office and Mark took a seat while Fighter brought over a first aid kit and began dabbing at Mark’s scratches.

“What language was that?” Brick asked.

Fighter glanced over. “Thai. She was born and raised in Bangkok.”

Brick didn’t need to know what she’d said. He could imagine it was the same filth she’d spat in English. The only thing she’d given Fighter that Brick could see was his Asian heritage of beautiful skin, soulful eyes and silky black hair.

“You told me the kids were yours.” Brick arched one eyebrow.

Fighter nodded. “They’re my sister’s kids, but I’ve taken care of them since they were babies. So they are mine.”

“And they stay here all the time?”

“No. We share back and forth.”

“Where does your sister live?”

Fighter finished wrapping gauze around Mark’s arm and began dabbing at the scratches on the man’s cheek.

“It’s complicated,” Fighter said.

“I think I can keep up.”

Mark snorted on a laugh. “Family drama. Oh hey, sorry for hitting Syn. Is he doing okay?”

Brick studied Mark for a moment. “He’s good. You should apologize to him though, not me.”

“I will.”

Bishop appeared in the doorway. “Elijah was still sleeping. I rocked Emma a bit and she passed back out. She’s used to it and wasn’t even scared.”

“That’s sad,” Brick murmured, holding Fighter’s gaze.

After a long moment, Fighter’s throat moved in a hard swallow. The man nodded and bowed his head and Brick wanted to hold him and never let him go.