Chapter 26
Killian
Adrenaline is pumping through my veins as I warm up with the jump rope.
I arrived about fifteen minutes ago and haven’t seen the crowd yet, but I catch bits of the noise when someone opens the door.
I haven’t seen my opponent yet, either, though I’m sure he’s already in the locker room.
Only thing I’m sure of is he’s going to be a cocky fucker.
I’m looking forward to being in the ring for real. Sparring with the lads is great for exercise, but there’s nothing like cracking bones when you throw a punch. I drop the rope and jab a few fists at the bag.
Fuck it, I’m ready.
Pulling my robe back on, I hitch my gym bag over my shoulder and knock my knuckles on my great-grandfather’s photo as I pass. “Wish me luck, Granda.”
The first thing that wallops me is the size of the crowd. It’s larger than I expected on the first night, and I recognize dozens of prominent Tampa figures. A lot of the same people who were at my soft launch.
Fair job, Sully.
As I keep to the edge of the crowd, I peer into the ring at the action. The fighters are drenched in sweat and blood, chests heaving. One of them will drop soon. I need to be ready.
Sully spots me and hustles into the locker room behind me. There are a few lads in here and the shower is running. Sully helps me tape up my wrists and pull on the light, MMA style finger gloves. I prefer to feel the crack of bone instead of a thud of padding and luckily my opponent agreed.
A toilet flushes and a giant man steps up to the sink. Our eyes meet in the mirror. He cracks a smile, washes his hands and then turns to eye me as he dries them.
I catch “The Punisher” embroidered on his black silk shorts and smirk back.
He’s a big feckin’ beast. But you know what they say. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
The Punisher turns away, dismissing me as a fella approaches him with his own gloves.
Yeah, I know what he sees and what he’s thinking. And he’s dead fuckin’ wrong.
Sully winks at me. “Have fun.”