Both of them were equally bloody now, neither having been able to get the upper hand for long. The light blue mat was liberally smeared with the crimson evidence of their battle. When Mike was on all fours, he could watch it drip thickly from his head all the way down and splatter as if in slow motion. Jon had begun to look worried again.
Now, though, Meyers had him on the mat in a chokehold, and though he was able to defend enough to breathe, Mike knew at any moment, with one wrong move, he could be choked unconscious. He breathed as best he could around Meyers's restraining forearm, taking the opportunity to rest and still remain on guard while anticipating any and every move Meyers might make next.
The crowd was irrelevant; they'd faded into nothing a long time ago. Same as when he was a kid; he'd never given a fuck who was watching and shouting, who was rooting for whom. He'd eaten his share of dirt, grass, or asphalt while the other guy's friends cheered-it didn't bother him any. Now it was simply on a far bigger scope.
Slowly, he began to fight his way out. A series of elbow jabs, shifting his hips, pushing the mat with his feet, and suddenly Meyers's arm loosened and Mike sprang to his feet. Thanks for the rest, asswipe. Now eat this. He greeted Meyers's vagus nerve with a swift kick, all his accumulated power behind it, staggering his opponent. Then he speared him right back to the ground. Meyers, disoriented, threw a left from underneath. Thank you. Mike caught it, pinning the arm between his left shoulder and Meyers's head. As soon as he had the triangle set up, he scrambled off to his right, putting pressure on the carotid artery, cutting off air.
Good night, motherfucker.
Frank wasn't letting that belt go so easily, though. Mike didn't get the satisfaction of Meyers tapping. The ref jumped in and ended it just as Frank's body began to slacken as unconsciousness set in.
He'd won.
Savannah almost couldn't comprehend what was happening until Damien was on his feet yelling and pulling her up with him.
What? It was over?
Mike rolled off Meyers, who moved about in a daze. Mike came to his knees in the middle of the blood-smeared floor while a roar went up from the crowd, then fell over to his hands, his back heaving with his panting breath. Blood still dripped from his cut. He was the only thing Savannah could see as Damien grabbed her arm and they tore their way through the jostling bodies to the cage, where Zane met them and propelled Savannah forward.
Mike's team was already in there, hoisting him up to his feet again, pure jubilation on all their faces. An older man, presumably his coach, grabbed both sides of his head and then yanked him into a fierce hug. With Zane and Damien hustling her along, she climbed the steps at a run and dashed toward him.
Over his coach's shoulder, his eyes met hers.
Please want me, please . . .
"Savannah?" She couldn't hear the sound of her name from his lips in the tumult around them, but she saw it. He slipped past his coach, walking toward her, no one else in the entire building, in the entire world, but the two of them. Going to his knees in front of her, he wrapped both arms around her waist and rested his weary head against her stomach, where she cradled him gently and dropped kisses and tears on his short hair. "Oh God, baby," he groaned, and somehow she heard him. "Oh my God. You're here. I can't believe you're here."
"I saw the eagle again!" she exclaimed. "Tommy's eagle. I knew he was telling me to get my ass here, Michael, I just knew it, and-That was amazing!"
He cut her off by surging up and, with a bone-crushing hug, lifted her feet off the floor, his mingled sweat and blood smearing across her clothes, but she gave not one single damn. It could mingle with her tears too. Whether it was adrenaline still pumping or exhaustion or emotion, he was shaking against her.
Damien slapped him on the back, though, and she only reluctantly let him turn to look at his brother. "You realize you came into this as the underdog, right?" Damien said.
"So?"
"So you made me a nice chunk of change tonight, big brother. Thanks."
Mike laughed. "Thanks for betting on me, at least."
"Always." With a grin and a wink at Savannah, he left them to their celebration.
Frank Meyers had collected himself off the mat and ambled over grim faced for a grudging handshake. Mike lowered Savannah to the floor and graciously accepted. Then the former champion backed away to let his team examine his wounds.
"We gotta look at that cut, Mike," Jon said, and though Savannah wanted to pout over being deprived of his arms around her again, she knew he needed to get cleaned up. She only realized then how much she was still shaking herself. She also only realized exactly how massive this crowd was when she looked around at it from the middle. Wow.
Here she was, surrounded by twenty thousand strangers and millions watching at home. She'd been in the arms of the man the world thought she should hate. But she loved him. Oh, God, how she loved him right then.
It was his arm that was lifted by the referee when his name was called as the new undisputed heavyweight champion, his waist the belt went around, his face that was a reflection of the victory, emotion, and absolute rapture he must have felt right then. Frank even brought him in for a hug afterward, shaking hands with Jon as well. Savannah tried to stay back and let Mike have his moment of glory, but when he was approached for the postfight interview, he reached an arm out to her. She went timidly to his side. The question was coming; they both knew it. That he wanted her by his side when he had to answer it brought a fresh wash of tears down her cheeks. But first he was asked about his expectations, his training, his strategy. Then it was time.
"Mike, there were a lot of words exchanged between you and Frank about Tommy Dugas. How did that affect you coming into the fight?"
Mike turned his head to look down into Savannah's eyes before answering. "Dan, this is Tommy's sister, Savannah, standing by my side. I didn't do this for me," he said, pulling the belt from his waist. "This is for Tommy, who loved this sport, who would have fought on if the tables had been turned. He was a great competitor. I don't doubt that he would have been standing here one day, because he wouldn't have quit. It's not myself, but Tommy's memory that I care about honoring here tonight."
With an encouraging grin, Mike handed Savannah the belt, while she stood slack-jawed, gazing down at its golden inscriptions uncomprehendingly. Her tears dripped on it. Oh, God, how her brother would have loved this!
When Mike's arm looped around her upper thighs and he lifted her easily in the air to thunderous cheers, she seized the belt with both hands and hoisted it into the air over her head. This is a dream. There were so many people, so many cameras, so many reporters. For once, she didn't care; she only hoped Rowan could see this. Mike slowly turned, showing her off to everyone, his free hand in the air waving to the fans. He smiled up at her.
For you, Tommy, she thought, laughing through her tears. I love you.
Chapter Twenty-Six
"Here. I think this served its purpose. You can have it back now." Mike held out his closed fist to her and Savannah looked down at it, puzzled.
"What is it?" When she opened her hand to accept the contents of his, she gasped as he dropped her lost earring onto her palm. "Oh my God! You found it!"
It was dark inside the SUV taking them back to his hotel, but she saw his grin easily enough. "I hope you don't mind me borrowing it."
"You kept it with you all this time?"
He nodded, staring into her eyes. She didn't know what to say. "My good-luck charm," he said, keeping his voice low.
"I didn't know if you still felt the same, I . . . I was so scared you didn't."
"I do. I always will."
She grinned at him and, not knowing where the impulse came from, suddenly frowned down as she inspected the tiny piece of jewelry as she said loudly, "Hey, wait a minute. This is not my earring, Michael Larson."
He didn't miss a beat, shoving his hand into his pocket. "Oh, damn, my bad. Not that one. Here, let me see . . ."
She burst out laughing, unable to keep up the ruse in her giddiness to be near him again. Even their driver, privy to their conversation, chuckled. Mike laughed along with her until she fell against his side, exhausted and practically sore from the tension that had thrummed through her body all night. It was all gone now. But she could only imagine how he felt, his antics in the cage being the cause of all her tension. "You can keep it, you know," she told him at last. "Or you can borrow it whenever you need luck. We can pierce your ear, then you can wear it."