Chapter 7
Max
As I walk through the tunnel, the crowd goes absolutely crazy.
My walkout song blasts throughout the arena.
Shouts come from the stands. “Master of Disaster!” “Lights out.” My heart pounds against my chest. Thump.
Thump. I’ve waited for this moment for so long.
The number of people is impressive when you see it from my standing view.
My somber blank face meets the gaze of Patrick “Double-decker” Ferraro.
That arrogant son of a bitch has been running his mouth to every reporter with a microphone, claiming he’ll knock me flat before the bell even rings for round three.
I’d like to see him try. He’s all talk and no bite.
I’ve watched his fights several times. He’s good, but not that good to knock me out that quickly.
He can put his money where his mouth is.
I might be a cocky bastard, but I’m all action.
I’ll show my opponent what I’m made of instead of talking shit.
The announcer’s voice booms through the arena, and seconds later, metal clangs against metal as the bell signals the start. Patrick wastes no time. His fist cuts through the air toward my jaw. I raise my arm just in time, deflecting his hook while pivoting to counter with a punch.
He’s so determined to knock me out that he’s gassing out. We are already in the fourth round.
My fist connects with his jaw, a dull crack sending him staggering backward.
His body hits the ropes. I throw another blow, this one catching the right temple where sweat has plastered his hair to his skull.
Patrick sways and then falls to the side.
His body makes a meaty thud against the floor.
The ref rushes, getting on one knee. My pulse races.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.” The referee counts Patrick on the floor.
He tries to stand but falls back. The referee steps in and waves it off.
The sound hits me before the referee’s hand finds mine.
The voice of the crowd cheers for me. So many of them.
Adrenaline courses through my body. Sweat soaks my entire frame.
The nick in my right eye stings, but it is nothing compared to the Underground fights.
Something swells in my chest that I don’t have a word for yet.
I’ve worked my ass off to get here. It’s only the beginning, but I’m here. I won.
Bob materializes at my shoulder the second the referee raises my hand. He has to shout over the crowd to be heard.
“Barreca’s team called ringside. Isaac wants you next.”
I’m still catching my breath. Still tasting copper from the cut above my eye. I look at Bob, my promoter. “Tell them yes.”
Henry, my manager, is by my side and nods.
Bob grins like he’s been sitting on that answer all night.
“Already did.” Isaac and his team have been running their mouths for a while, apparently.
I already knew Barreca was coming. He’s been on every sports network for two weeks—the next generation hasn’t been tested; anyone can look good fighting unknowns.
If Cano is real, he’ll prove it against someone who’s headlined.
The kind of talk designed to get under your skin.
It works. Not in the way he intended. It doesn’t rattle me.
It focuses me. What Barreca doesn’t know—what the recorded world doesn’t know—is that I have more fights in me than his entire career. Just none of them on paper.
Carlos, Xander, Leo, Bliss, and the other guys jump in the ring to congratulate me. The only person I’m searching for is my girl. Rainey is jumping up and down, tears streaming from her beautiful face. I wave for her to come, but she doesn’t see me. The announcer steps in front of me.
The announcer’s voice booms through the arena: “Max ‘Master of Disaster’ Cano!” He rattles off my record while blood pounds in my ears. “Max, word is, Isaac Barreca has formally requested a match. Any response?”
I look at the camera. Still sweating. Still bleeding a little. “I’m ready. Just tell me when.”
When the announcer moves on to my opponent, I flash my win in the air, searching for Rainey. Nessa is hugging Carlos, but I don’t see R—
“Max!” Rainey shouts, sliding under the ropes.
“Baby.”
She runs to me, and I lift her in the air, wrapping my arms around her. She kisses my sweaty face. “You did fucking good, champ. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you, tesoro.” My emotions catch in my throat. “I’m glad you’re here.” What I want to say is I’m so fucking happy you’re alive, and you’re by my side.
I can’t figure her out. One minute she’s herself—laughing like Sol, sharp-tongued like Rainey—and I think we’re getting somewhere.
Then she’s gone. Not physically, but might as well be.
Then she went back to being happy, talking about old times.
It finally felt like she was opening up, but this week she became distant.
Or maybe I’m imagining things. I have been very busy.
In this moment, I put it all aside and kiss her like crazy.
“Give me a minute,” I bark to Carlos, who’s trying to pull me away. Annette stands next to him. She won her fight as well earlier today.
I go back to kissing Rainey, and I don’t give two fucks who’s around. My sweetest victory will always be her.
She grins when I pull away.
Damn, she’s gorgeous. I don’t know what it is, but she’s fucking glowing.
“Cano!” I hear a shout from the stands. I’ve been hearing them all night. “Cano!” I wave at everyone in the stands, then turn to my team with my arms wrapped around my woman.
“Congratulations,” Nessa says, embracing me in a hug, followed by Leo and Xander.
Annette steps in front of me. “Congratulations. Max. You fought like the champ you are,” she breathes, extending her hands out for a hug as if Rainey is invisible.
I would never do anything to make Rainey feel less than. I know she has beef with Annette, and that’s mainly because Annette thinks I’d give up Rainey for her. She’s out of her damn mind. I wave my hand in front of her to stop her.
“Thank you,” I simply say.
I tuck Rainey into the pit of my arm, her small body warm against my sweaty skin, and walk out of the ring.
“Cano!” I hear the same voice calling me. “Cano, you badass motherfucker!”
“You have so many fans. It warms my heart to hear them chant your name. And I agree with him. You are a badass motherfucker.” Rainey gives me a flirty grin.
“Cano, you shit. Come here. Hey, let me through!”
I turn toward the man who is still shouting at me, but I can’t see him clearly through the crowd.
“Dammit. They won’t let me get to you.” The man groans.
I’m still trying to find the determined fan.
“Dammit, kiddo.”
My body freezes, and so does Rainey’s.
“Kiddo?” I breathe out in a whisper. Is it him? It can’t fucking be. I’ve looked for that ass wipe for years. The thing is, I didn’t know his last name, or at least I didn’t remember it.
Faded denim jeans and a black shirt with my face plastered on it.
He’s hairy as fuck—well, facial hair-wise.
He always had that baby face. I remember him hunched over the sink at sixteen, razor in hand, scraping stubble.
Then again, after dinner. He always wanted to look good for the girl he was dating.
Now, ink snakes up his forearms in a tangle up to his biceps.
An ink design on one side of his neck. His shoulders have doubled in width, biceps straining against the shirt sleeves.
He’s definitely bulked up. He can crack a skull with those.
He’s holding a sign that reads, “Fuck him up, Cano.”
Is it really him?
My heart speeds up. “Drake,” I whisper, as if he can hear me through the noise.
Rainey gasps.
“Drake?” I shout, tilting my head, unsure. What are the odds that anyone else would call me kiddo?
He nods, grinning from ear to ear. “Tell the security to let me get down before I fuck them up.”
Drake jumps down from the rails, arms spread wide, and crashes into me.
His embrace envelops me, his palms drumming against my spine.
He squeezes me just as tight as I’m squeezing him.
Not a day has gone by that I haven’t wondered what had happened to the boy I saw as a big brother.
The boy who took so many beatings for me.
The boy who saved the woman I love. I’ve always wondered what would have happened if Drake hadn’t shown up.
There was only so much I could have done at my age to save Sol.
Would he have beaten me black and blue to get to her?
Would he have? I can’t even say the word. I will be forever grateful to him.
The strangling sensation in the base of my throat prevents me from swallowing the lump forming. I clear my throat to speak. “I can’t believe this.”
Our foreheads touch, and he squeezes my nape. “I told you I’d find you, little bro.”
He kept his promise.
He ruffles my wet hair just like old times and turns toward Rainey. Her eyes are wide, mouth still open. “Close that mouth, Sunny. A fly will land in there,” he jokes.
Drake called her “Sunny” after he heard me call her “Sunshine.” He teased me about it.
“I know you don’t remember me. We’re old…” He looks at me. “Friends.” He knew she had lost her memory when Mrs. Sara had told us before he left.
I turn to Carlos and the rest of them, who are standing around us. “Go on ahead.” They trail off when they are far from earshot. I tell Drake, “I told her about you.”
“Yes, he’s told me so much about you. I regained my memory months ago, but Max had told me everything before then.” Rainey sucks in a breath, then exhales. “You should have told me who you were at the café.”
My brows furrow up to my hairline. “You went to the café?” I wave him over to follow me into the room for privacy. I take Rainey’s hand in mine.