I panted heavily, sweat pouring into my eyes, stinging them. My vision was blurred but I didn’t need to see clearly to know my way around a ring. Damon and I circled one another. He had a cut just above his right eye. I was sure blood was pouring into his eye, but he was just intent as I was.
“How’s my right hook feel now?” I taunted, baring my teeth.
“’Bout as good as my left uppercut,” he tossed back.
Just the mention of his uppercut caused my right ribs to ache. But the pain only made me grin, similar to the way Damon was grinning back at me. In the ring we didn’t feel any pain, just the thrill of the fight and the need to take the other guy down. I’d long since moved on from the dank gym my father first brought me to seven years earlier. We were now in what would be considered a world class gymnasium on the outskirts of Williamsport. Connor technically owned the building, but I was the backer, as I was with a number of these underground fighting rings around the country. The network was extensive and extremely secretive.
Yeah, just like the movie, the first rule of our fight club was you didn’t fucking talk about fight club.
“You two pussies going to keep talking or fight?” Connor yelled from the side of the ring.
“Suck my cock!” I growled.
“He’s got a point. I have a date later on,” Damon said just before lunging at me. He attempted to use one of his infamous takedowns and he nearly succeeded in getting me down, but as usual, I was too quick for him. Just as he was about to swipe my right leg from under me, I did a spin move and ended up getting behind him. I went to put him in a chokehold but he elbowed me in the same spot in my ribs where his uppercut had caught me.
“Shit!” I grunted, falling to my left knee. I quickly rebounded and sent one of my own uppercuts to his jaw. He pivoted his head at the last second, causing me to just clip him. I’d made contact but it wasn’t enough to do any real damage. Not to Damon, at least. A lesser fighter would’ve felt it.
We kept at it for another three rounds before Connor finally made us call it. Damon and I always ended our fights like this. In a damned tie. I fucking loathed ties.
“I’m gonna beat the shit out of you one day,” I warned as we touched gloves.
“Not before I whoop your ass,” he returned.
“Ah, both of you are full of it!” Connor grunted as he removed our gloves. “My grandmother could whoop both of your asses. With her eyes closed.”
“Oh yeah? Why don’t you invite her over to my place.” Damon winked.
I chuckled while Connor threw him a middle finger.
I stretched out my fingers from the gloves and ducked under the ropes of the ring to climb down. “Who’s next?” I shouted to the ten or so guys who were present and watching the fight between Damon and I. An array of hands went up.
“You and you.” I nodded at two separate guys who looked to be about the same height and build. I watched as the two men sized each other up, carefully searching for each other’s weaknesses as they moved to the ring.
A smile tugged at my lips.
I, too, loved the sizing up of an opponent before we stepped into the ring. Most times I’d already won the fight in my head long before first contact was ever made. Fighting was definitely just as mental as it was physical. Most sports were.
“This should be a good one. Doc’s been out of the ring for weeks due to his injury. He’s itching to pop someone.”
I turned my gaze over my right shoulder to peer at Damon who was now standing next to me, but staring ahead at the ring, as he sipped from a bottle of water. I nodded.
“I don’t think the poor guy knows what he’s getting into,” I retorted.
Damon chuckled. “At least he’s a real doctor. After Jacob kicks Daniel’s ass, he can stitch him up before he sends the new guy home.”
I nodded in agreement, carefully watching as both men entered the ring. Daniel was new to our group. Damon and I both took a few steps back, joining the handful of other guys who began intently watching the start of the next fight.
Fighters.
That’s who we all became once we got down there. In these rooms, we weren’t our professions. I wasn’t Joshua Townsend, born into a multi-billion dollar empire with a silver spoon in my mouth. Damon wasn’t the former drug dealer turned real estate mogul. And the guy currently beating the hell out of one of the newer members of our group wasn’t an up-and-coming plastic surgeon. We were all warriors. Catering to our base instincts. Working to get out the stress and pressure of the day, week, year, whatever. It was either fight, or we’d explode on someone out there and sometimes that wasn’t an option.
I watched as Jacob—the doctor in the ring—circled his opponent, taking him down with a surprise leg sweep. It was a beautiful move, that landed the doc on top of his much slower opponent.
“Hey, you need to ask Jacob to teach you to do a leg sweep like that. Yours was sloppy as shit.” Damon laughed.
“Fuck off,” I grunted.
I continued observing the fight, but to my dismay, my thoughts began drifting. The initial adrenaline rush of the fight had begun to taper off and long ago memories of my former best friend started to resurface. I’d worked hard to forget about Kayla for years now. She’d left me during the saddest time in my life. So why the hell was her being back an issue for me now? Why had I already decided to have my family’s security team get me the contact information on where she was now living and working?
