Chapter 16
Max
Audrey’s here.
And she’s in the front row where she belonged.
I expected that. I did not expect to see my old gym jacket draped over her body. I didn’t even know she still had it after all these years. My last name still looked good over her heart.
Reluctantly, I tore my eyes away from her and turned to my opponent who was entering the ring.
Deon Sanders was a tall, dark-skinned man who outweighed me by a few pounds in muscle.
During our training sessions, Tony warned me not to be deceived by his size.
Apparently this dude was fast as hell. Probably strong too.
Yet, neither of those traits scared me. For as long as I’ve been fighting, there hasn’t been much I haven’t seen before.
He held his glove out in respect. Returning it, I tapped it with my own.
“Ready?” The referee asked each of us. After receiving nods from both of us, he threw his hand up and called, “Fight!”
As soon as the referee freed the space between us, Deon was charging at me. He swung quick, powerful punches and kicks.
I danced around his first few strikes, already anticipating the speed and combination.
What I wasn’t expecting were his false strikes.
He’d crank one arm back as if about to throw a punch, leaving me focused on that glove, and then actually throw a punch with his other.
The first one caught me in the cheek. The second was a blow to my ribcage.
The third, another hit to my face, sent me a few steps backwards, directing into the metal stitching of the octagon.
Deon smirked as he tried to corner me there. He moved in close, caging me between his body and the netting, and targeted my abdomen.
I held my arms at an angle to keep some distance between us and guard my ribs. Between his hits, I managed to find a few openings - a few opportunities to knee him straight in his stomach and ribs.
Deon hissed at one of the harder blows. His punches paused for the briefest moment.
Before it was gone, I took the second to dive my knee back into the same location.
Hissing again, he finally took a few steps, freeing me.
I threw a few more punches at his face as I stepped away from the netting. I was trying to get us back towards the middle, away from the edge so he couldn’t pin me there again.
Deon tried to hit me with a false attack again, but this time I was ready. I dodged the punch and gave him a swift kick to the ribs - the spot I’d been hitting with my knee just moments before.
I smiled around the blood on my lip at the grimace forming on his face from the collision. Looks like I found his weak spot.
I aimed for it as I struck again.
This time, Deon was ready for the attack. He grabbed onto my ankle and swung me down onto the ground.
My back slammed down against the ground. I didn’t have time to comprehend the pain from the impact before Deon was on me.
He punched my face with one hand, laying down quick, harsh blows.
After being caught off guard by the first few, I held up my arms to block my face. I took a quick moment to process our new position. Deon, so quick to pounce, completely forgot to mount me properly.
I locked my legs around him and flipped us over.
Mercilessly, I pounded down on Deon’s face and torso, giving him a taste of his own medicine. I only stopped when Deon’s fist connected with my cheek. The force behind the punch knocked me off of him.
My vision blurred for a moment, the hit temporarily stunning me.
Deon noticed and pounced at me again. This time he caught my back, wrapped his arm around my neck and threw himself onto his own back. He wrapped his legs around my torso to restrict my movements. With his free hand, Deon gripped his wrist and increased the pressure around my neck.
“You motherfucker,” I muttered as his bicep squeezed my windpipe.
Deon chuckled. “You’re not getting out of this. You might as well tap now.”
I almost laughed. “You’re gonna need more than a headlock if you’re looking for a submit.” I dug my elbows into Deon’s thighs.
My sharp bones against his muscle caused Deon’s hold around my torso to weaken.
I took advantage of the small opening and used my elbows to free myself of his legs’ grip.
I rolled my torso away from Deon’s legs before he could try to grab me again.
But, Deon still had a good grip on my head.
I punched at his chest and stomach to take his concentration away from his hold.
My diversion worked, and Deon’s grip let up.
I pushed my head out from underneath his arm and grabbed his wrist. Taking his hand with me, I lay down against the mats and wrapped my legs around his arm, pinning his shoulders down. Smirking, I tugged at Deon’s arm.
“Fuck,” Deon groaned.
“What were you saying about me tapping?” I added more strength to my pull. “Now how about you tap before I pull your arm out of its socket?”
“Fuck you,” Deon replied. He let out another groan as I tugged even harder.
“I will rip out your goddamn arm if you don’t tap pretty soon.”
Ignoring my warning, he tried to push and punch at my calves.
Each punch made me squeeze harder. Hopefully, he didn’t think I was playing. I’d really tear his arm out of his socket if that’s what it was going to take.
Thankfully, for him anyway, he accepted his fate and tapped on my leg.
The crowd’s cheers rang through my ears as I released him. I hopped to my feet and held up my arms in victory. Scanning over the crowd again, I quickly found Audrey.
Smiling, she clapped and hooted for me.
A grin conquered my lips as I took in the magnificent sight. I kissed the knuckle pads on my glove and held it out towards her.
Her smile grew at the gesture.
After I was ushered off the stage, I headed back to my designated dressing room to clean myself off and get dressed.
The on site doctor tried to fuss over the cuts on my face and the bruises forming around my ribs, but I shooed her off once she concluded I didn’t have any serious injuries.
I could bandage myself up once I got home.
“Max?” Tysir’s voice surprised me.
I looked up from my task of tying my shoes and met his gaze. “Where’s Audrey?” I asked.
“She’s on her way back with Wesley and her friend,” he explained. “The girls are talking about going out for drinks, so I wanted to know: who’s transporting the money and who’s taking the girls home?”
That was a good question. When I switched around the roles of my men tonight, I didn’t give much thought to the second half of the night.
I was just worried about making sure my girl was protected.
My brain told me I should ride with the new men on the job, but my heart yearned to spend time with Audrey.
She looked so happy in the stands. I didn’t want to waste a moment of sharing her joy for a responsibility I didn’t even want.
Delegate, my father’s voice rang in my head. For once, I didn’t disagree with it.
“You’ll go,” I decided.
Between him and Wesley, Tysir was the one I saw becoming a right hand man someday.
He kept his mouth shut and his mind sharp.
He was someone I needed for tasks like this.
Wesley and his motor-mouth, on the other hand, wasn’t built for leadership, but had a way of keeping even the tensest of air light.
On a night like this, I needed a wing man like him.
“Make sure the newbies won’t fuck up,” I told Tysir. “Let them know if they do, it’s their ass on the line - not yours.”
Tysir nodded. “Got it.” Turning on his heel, he walked back out the room to attend to his new duty.
As he was exiting, Audrey was entering. A smile spread across her face at the sight of me. “Hey!” She yelled as she jogged towards me.
I opened my arms and caught her as she leaped into them. I lifted her off her feet and gave her a twirl.
Giggling, her arms tightened around my neck. “Congratulations!” she exclaimed. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I said as I sat her down on her feet.
“But, you were getting your ass kicked in the beginning. I’m not gonna lie.”
“Shut up before you get your ass kicked.”
She raised a playful brow. “By who?” She squealed as I wrapped my arm around her neck and pulled her head down into a lock.
“Don’t make me embarrass you,” I warned.
She laughed, shoving off my arm. Her eyes sparkled with a whimsical glow I hadn’t seen in a while. The one she used to carry around in the playful moments we shared as kids.
It quickly disappeared as she inspected my bruised face. Frowning, she grabbed my jaw and turned my head back and forth to inspect my wounds. “Max,” she whined. “Don’t tell me you didn’t let the paramedic patch you up.”
“I left the job for you,” I told her.
She rolled her eyes. “No, you’re just a glutton for pain.” She shoved me back into the seat and skimmed the dresser for the first aid kit. She pulled out the small bottle of alcohol and some cotton balls from the kit. Turning on her heel, she headed into the adjoining bathroom to grab a wash rag.
“Where’s your friend?” I asked, noticing we were alone.
“Wesley is giving her a backstage tour,” Audrey yelled above the running water.
When she returned, she held my face still with one hand and used the other to start washing the dried blood off my face. Gently, she padded the wet rag around my skin, careful not to press too hard on the cuts and bruises.
I admired the concentration on her face. Whenever she was focused, a small crease furrowed between her brows and her mouth poked out in a tiny pout. I remembered the look all too well from the nights we spent studying for school exams. I thought it was cute back then too.
Audrey’s eyes bounced over for a second, meeting mine. The crease in her brow deepened. Cocking her head, she silently asked, The hell are you staring at?
I answered her question with a smug smirk.
Audrey rolled her eyes and went back to concentrating on her task. She cleaned the cuts with alcohol and carefully placed bandages over them.