My knee bounces and she looks down at my fidgeting and smirks.
“I just don’t want him to get hurt.” My gaze flickers back to the caged ring. Fighters grab their gear and trainers take care of their immediate wounds, wiping them and cleaning off their eyebrows to prevent more blood from hitting the mat. As soon as the cage is clear, another crew quickly sweeps in, wiping the floors and disinfecting everything.
They move efficiently, and within minutes the ring is sparkling clean again.
As the lights dim, everything inside me buzzes like a live wire, ready to zap anything I touch. Sweeping my hands down my thighs, I wipe the sweat off my clammy hands.
“He’s got this,” Sarah whispers, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. “Lynx said he’s been fighting really well the last couple of weeks. You must be giving him some good motivation.”
A snicker breezes past my tight lips, loosening the tension in my shoulders. “I think it’s more the lawyers and the Matsens that are making him angry right now.”
Two more weeks and we haven’t heard anything.
Keith Titon still believes they’ll come around and allow a visitation, but he reminds us that we shouldn’t expect to be able to let Thad know that we’re his birth parents.
I don’t want that, either, although nothing will be able to erase the memory of the deep line that appeared between Grayson’s eyes the night Keith told him that over the telephone.
He had left for the gym immediately following that conversation, and didn’t come home until hours after I was already asleep.
“Well,” Sarah says, tugging me tighter to her in a reassuring squeeze, “at least he has a way to get out his aggression and frustration.”
Her eyebrows wiggle at that implication.
“And you and Lynx?” I ask.
She simply winks. “You know me. It’s fun and he’s easy and great to be around.”
“But?”
“But nothing,” she says with a shrug. “We’re friends and we have fun together. There’s nothing more there.”
I slide a glance in her direction, pulling my gaze off the slightly darkened and quiet cage. I see nothing but honesty in her eyes and her expression. For a brief moment, I feel a pinch of sadness for her. She’s always so quick to keep men at a distance that I’ve always wondered if it has anything do with the trauma she experienced, and caused, when she was a teenager.
I’ve always wanted to ask, but since I held my own secrets from her, she has every right to do the same.
I figure someday she’ll meet a man and he’ll have to fight tooth and nail to get close to her if that’s what he wants.
Lynx doesn’t seem like that kind of guy. They’re too similar.
“Okay,” I acquiesce. I’m barely able to get the word out before the lights begin flashing.
“Here we go.” Excitement lingers in Sarah’s voice, but it’s barely above a whisper.
I hear nothing except my blood pumping in my ears while the crowd once again surges to their feet.
“Samson” and “Legend” are chanted in equal measure and increasing volume as lights spin and flare like a disco ball high above our heads.
Fists pump in the air and stomping reverberates throughout the arena as Samson enters his corner from a tunnel on the opposite side. He stalks toward the cage and goes through the pre-fight check that I can see from the Jumbotron high above the cage.
On the edge of the screen are Samson’s stats. He’s lost one less fight than Grayson, but he has more wins. Their weight and height are the same.
I’ve known this for weeks, yet seeing it in print, knowing that Legend does not have an advantage in this fight, makes my heart lodge deep in my throat.
Everything stops as soon as Samson enters the caged doors and Legend’s name begins to filter through the air around me. The volume grows with every sound until I’m on my feet, hands braced on the handrail next to me, and both Sarah and I are leaning as far over the guardrail to the side of us as we can go.
Rodney enters first, his permanent scowl firmly affixed on his expression.
Landon is right behind him, similar expression, arms spread wide as he ensures there’s room for Grayson to push past the crowd of people reaching for him.
My breath stalls when I see him. He doesn’t enter with cocky swagger like other fighters I’ve seen, and he never wears a robe or anything flashy. The guys all wear white T-shirts with a logo of black angel wings, the same as the tattoo he has covering his back and athletic pants.
With his brows pulled in, his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed tight, everything about Grayson screams concentration and aggression. A small breath flutters past my lips as I see how focused and determined he is.
I’ve seen him fight before. I’ve seen him win by knockouts and tap outs and judges’ decisions.
This man can do anything.
“Go Legend!” Sarah shouts, cupping her hands around her mouth right next to me.
The men make no sign they’ve heard us, and just as Grayson reaches us, I’m certain he’s going to continue passing me by.
At the last second, without flicking his gaze at me, giving no indication he even knows I’m here, he jumps onto the stands, gloved hands wrapped around the handrail, and his face is directly in front of me.
My head jerks back and my eyes fly open.
“Kiss me.”
“What?” I ask, not hearing him over the thunderous roar of the crowd.
“Kiss me for luck.” His expression is intense. His eyebrows are thick slashes along the tops of his eyes, his blue eyes like the hottest part of the flame. He licks his lips and I can’t deny him.
I lean in, press my lips firmly against his, and press my palms to the sides of his neck.
He pulls back too soon, just as fire begins flicking flames to my already throbbing and needy sex.
We haven’t had sex for a week.
He’s promised me tonight.
With blazing eyes, he leans back. His lips quirk up at the edges. “Fucking love seeing you in my corner, Kennedy.”
He jumps down, and behind him, I see Lynx shaking his head, but he’s grinning. With a nod at Sarah, he shoves Grayson forward.
Grayson doesn’t look back. He stalks to the referees in front of the judges like he didn’t just make a fool out of himself in front of thousands of people on another televised fight.
My fingertips press against my burning lips and I turn to Sarah.
She nods, her green eyes as serious as I’ve ever seen them.
“He’s got this.”
I tilt my chin once. “He’s got this.”
The fight is brutal. Both men are sitting on stools, blood being wiped from their cheeks. Grayson has a bruise already forming on the left side of his body from a side kick. He’s been taken down to the mat three times in the first two rounds. Samson is fighting with everything in him to beat Grayson, and if the judges were to make a call now, after two rounds, I think Samson might be able to pull out a win.
“He’s okay,” Sarah says, trying to comfort me by rubbing the back of my hand. “He’ll pull it out.”
I’ve seen Grayson in dozens of fights over the last few years. This is the first fight where I’ve stood in his corner, cheering for him. It’s the first time I might see him lose and not be happy about it.
It’s been a brutal fight, penalties on both of them and warnings from the refs for illegal contact.
I pull in a trembling breath until my lungs burn, and let it out through my lips just as the bell rings to signal the beginning of the third round.
I squeeze Sarah’s hand as if my life depends on cracking every bone in it.
Her fingers flex, and she cringes, but she doesn’t tell me to let go or ease up. She knows I need this.
“C’mon, Legend!” I shout, hollering as loud as I can.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I watch him and Samson trade back a set of equally vicious jabs and kicks until Grayson sweeps his leg out. He hits Samson just behind his left knee and it buckles, taking him to the floor.
Grayson immediately mounts him in a dominant position, twisting Samson’s fighting body into a painful contortion. With a heave of his shoulders, he rolls Samsun until he has him in a Kimura hold. Grayson is on the bottom, his legs restraining Samson’s by wrapping around his hips, and he has his left arm twisted. Their faces contort with pain and pressure while Grayson pulls on the trapped arm.
“Come on,” I mutter repeatedly. I let go of Sarah’s hand and bring mine to my mouth, clasping my hands together. Bouncing on the balls of my toes, I quietly plead with Grayson to end this thing.
My heart can’t take it.
Just when I think he has the hold...and the fight…and Samson is going to tap out, he begins pummeling the side of Grayson’s head with his right fist.
Grayson pulls tighter, even while grimacing from the pain inflicted on him. I know he can’t feel it now. But as he pushes Samson’s left arm, dodging his head from the punches landing at his temple, I see it before it happens.
His eyes slowly close and he shakes his head.
“Oh shit,” I mumble mostly to myself. No one can hear me.
Instinctively, Sarah reaches over and grabs onto my shirt.
Samson lands two more punches while Grayson tries to dodge them. I can see Lynx and Landon’s mouths moving rapidly, shouting instructions, but it only takes one more punch and Grayson’s hold evaporates. He blinks several times, but it’s too late.