Chapter Fourteen
Christian’s eyebrows furrowed despite his widening eyes, but Imara simply stared right back at him.
Gemma looked between them, waiting for an explanation.
Imara sighed. “Look, my mom owns a bar-slash-gentlemen’s club.
Yes, the kind with the half-naked dancing ladies.
Move on.” She narrowed her eyes at a smirking Colton.
“Anyway, people talk in places like that. The same kind of people who go to the fights. I may never have met you, but I know all about you, Christian Holm. Perileos isn’t that big of a place. ”
Christian’s jaw flexed. “It was a way of paying off my dad’s debts. Can we please leave it at that?”
“Of course,” Hawk interjected, patting Christian’s shoulder. “At least you got to have fun training. I had some stupid simulator I was required to log hours in. Your way sounds much more entertaining.”
Gemma’s face tightened as she watched Christian flex and relax his hands, the lines around his eyes deepening. Why would he not be proud that he’d found a way to provide for his family?
The boxing ring duplicated itself as the five of them wrapped their hands.
Gemma tried to mimic Christian, but he moved so fast with his tape that she quickly got lost. She’d only sparred with Dissent members a few times; remembering how to protect her knuckles was not something she’d thought to save.
Christian must’ve felt her watching him, for a corner of his mouth rose. “Need help?”
Her cheeks roasted. “Yeah, maybe.” She cleared her throat and held out her hands. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that made her heart flutter. Gemma pursed her lips and tried not to pay attention to his face.
Christian took her right hand in his and disentangled the fabric.
His touch was so tender, so gentle that she had to bite her lip to stay focused on learning.
He anchored the wrap around her thumb and wrist before crossing it over her hand and between her knuckles, ensuring each was protected.
He did the same with her left, and when he’d finished, his fingers lingered just long enough that Gemma’s stomach somersaulted.
“Hurry up, Mister Superstar,” Imara quipped. “I’d like to spar with my partner now.”
Gemma cleared her throat, unable to meet his stare as she tucked loose hair behind her ear. “Thanks.”
“Any time,” Christian replied. His bright gaze met hers, and Gemma had to force herself not to run away.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Why couldn’t she have just said no to his help?
Gemma climbed into the ring with Imara while Hawk and Colton stepped into theirs.
“Since you’re not fighting yet, Christian, you want to referee?” Hawk asked.
Christian nodded. “Sure.”
“And remember, team—no sensitive parts.”
Imara snorted. “Yeah, no one wants a boob punch or kick to the scrotum.”
Hawk shook his head. “You really know how to turn a phrase.”
“Why, thank you, kind sir.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“All right, guys,” Christian interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Imara and Gemma started circling each other.
“I’m sorry,” Imara apologized.
Gemma smiled. “Don’t be. This was Hawk’s stupid idea, remember?”
Imara smirked then threw a punch toward Gemma’s face.
Gemma barely got her arm up in time to block the hit but swiped her leg between Imara’s, dropping Imara to the mat. A corner of Gemma’s mouth flicked up. Maybe she had picked up enough tricks from the Dissent’s combat instructors.
Imara laughed. “That was awesome.” She climbed to her feet. “Why didn’t you punch the blazes out of me? You totally had me.”
Gemma shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been fun that way.” And ‘cause I never even thought about it . . .
Imara huffed. “Well, you’re nicer than me.”
The two of them began their dance once again. Imara’s dark brown eyes stalked every step Gemma took, waiting, calculating.
Gemma clenched her jaw and swung.
Imara stepped out of the way and drilled her fist into Gemma’s jaw. She sprawled onto the ground, white stars in her vision, and tried to climb back to her feet—
Imara’s knee collided with the side of her face.
Blood spewed from Gemma’s mouth as she tipped sideways, falling onto her elbows and knees.
Imara’s arm was around her neck in seconds, squeezing hard. “Submit!”
Apparently, this wasn’t the first time she’d sparred with someone either.
Gemma clawed at Imara’s arm, trying to recall how the Dissent taught her to break free. But Imara just tightened her grasp until Gemma had no choice but to tap her hand against her hip.
“Winner, Imara,” Christian declared.
Gemma gasped for air the moment Imara’s arm left her neck, the room swaying in her vision. Thank the stars the pain wouldn’t follow her from the simulation. There was nothing worse than the headache that followed after oxygen was cut off from your brain.
“Sorry.” Imara winced, helping Gemma to her feet.
“It’s fine.” Gemma gingerly rubbed her throat. “That was a good move.”
Gemma and Imara slid out of their ring to watch Colton and Hawk finish their match.
Unlike the girls, the guys were dripping in sweat, with blood rolling down their faces and leaking from their noses.
Gemma flinched every time one of their attacks connected.
Their moves were much more calculated and cunning—and brutal.
Hawk may have been trained to box since he was a child, but Colton definitely knew what he was doing. In fact, he was really good.
Gemma’s eyes narrowed. Where had he learned to fight?
“You okay?” Christian asked, loud enough for only Gemma to hear.
“Yeah.” She checked her lip for any more bleeding. “Just a bruised ego.”
He chuckled. “That may have been the fastest match I’ve ever seen. So, congratulations.”
Her cheeks flared with a sudden rush of heat.
A loud thud sounded from the boys’ ring as Hawk fell limp onto the mat. Gemma went to run to him, but Christian put an arm across her stomach.
“Winner, Colton,” Christian said, returning his attention to Gemma. “He’s fine. He’ll wake up in a minute. Just got hit in the right spot.”
Gemma opened her mouth to protest, but Colton dumped the water from Hawk’s bottle over Hawk’s head, and their ginger-haired teammate shouted himself awake.
Imara guffawed as Gemma pressed her fist against her mouth to keep from laughing.
“See, this is why we shouldn’t be called ‘Team Gallowood,’ ” Imara teased.