“You’re fucking crazy, Doc!” Brick yelled in response.
The sardonic smile I’d already been wearing, grew in size.
“I know,” I growled before quickly spinning and sweeping Brick’s leg. A round of cheers from the onlookers could be heard behind me but I paid them no mind. I didn’t give a shit about the people watching this fight between Brick and I. All I cared about was the pain.
The pain of being hit so hard that it took my breath away.
Or the pain of landing the perfect punch against an opponent’s bone, so that the sensation bounced back and moved through my knuckles and up my arm, reaching my chest.
It was only once I started feeling that pain that the memories of the day started to fall away. It was only then that I was truly able to relax, a little, at least.
The physical pain was better than the memories.
Today, the memory that I couldn’t shake loose was what happened in the OR. I’d been performing a simple breast lift on a patient. A second year resident joined me as part of his training. My first instinct was to kick him out of the wash room when he entered with that stupid, fucking cocky-ass grin on his face. But I opted to let him stay. After all, Memorial is one of the best teaching hospitals in the state. And despite going against my first instincts, I let the resident assist in a delicate process during the procedure. The dumb fucker ended up nicking one of the patient’s arteries.
Thus, a surgery that should’ve been relatively simple and uncomplicated nearly turned deadly. All because I let a fucking resident join in. That was my fuck up. And that is what brought me to the Underground.
“Aw fuck!” Brick grunted when a fist of mine landed in his ribs.
“Feeling a little fleshy, Brick. Been eating good, huh?” I continued to taunt. It was a lie, however. Brick was just as solid as his Underground name indicated. The man was built like a goddamn brick wall. And whereas most guys with his size and build were rather slow, that wasn’t the case with Brick. He’d obviously been working on his agility. Which was why in the next second I found myself flat on my back, flailing as his large, six-foot-six nearly two-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame came down on top of me.
Thankfully, I was expecting one of his infamous takedowns, and hurriedly countered his move with one of my own. I managed to wiggle out of his hold and get my legs to wrap around his upper body. I could feel him struggling to get free from the inevitable but it was too late. My legs were soon wrapped tightly around his neck, squeezing the air from him.
He pounded with one fist against my leg but the pain from his punches only invigorated me more. I knew I’d be covered in bruises tomorrow from this fight, but the deep satisfaction I got from the pain was almost intoxicating.
“Let him up!” I heard Buddy yell from the side of the ring.
That’s what forced me to release Brick. When I did, I heard the gagging and coughing sounds as he fought inhale normally again.
“Shit!” Brick cursed once he finally got back on his feet. “Anyone ever tell you, you fight like that fucker Luke whatever the hell his name is, from the NFA?” Brick sputtered in between breaths just after he tapped knuckles to signal the end of the fight.
“I don’t watch the NFA. I don’t know who the fuck that is,” I gruffly answered, quickly dismissing his comment and turning to head out of the ring.
“You look like him a little, too,” Brick yelled behind me.
Pausing, I turned back to him, my eyes narrowed. I swore I caught something glinting in his eyes. As if he wanted to say more but chose not to.
I spun on my heels and headed for the changing room. I moved through the throng of guys clamoring to pat my back after a fight or angling to convince Buddy to let them in the ring for a fight of their own.
I didn’t stay to find out who was entering the ring next. I got what I came here for. Relief.
That was all I ever sought most nights in this place that to the outside world looked like an abandoned building. But to the men who gathered here two to three nights out of the week, we knew it was more. It was a place where most of us chose to let our demons out so we wouldn’t unleash them on the rest of the world.
“Good fight, Reynolds,” I heard from behind me as I redressed in the pair of dark jeans and T-shirt I’d worn to the Underground that night.
I rose to my full six-foot-two height, which still caused me to be about three inches shorter than the man standing opposite me.
“Connor.” I nodded but didn’t bother to reply to his initial comment. He never called me by my Underground name—which was Doc—for obvious reasons. Most of the men down here were professionals with our own careers or businesses. But like I said, everyone needed some sort of outlet to release the bullshit of the day.
“You get what you needed?”
I nodded while also throwing the strap of my gym bag over my shoulder. “I always do,” I answered as I moved past him and through the door of the changing room to take me out into the main area again. I could feel Connor’s eyes on my back but he didn’t say anything else. As the co-organizer of this underground fighting ring, he was sort of the Godfather of the guys down here, I supposed. But not mine. I didn’t need a fucking father figure or anyone else to oversee me.
After exiting through the main door, I hopped into my dark-colored Range Rover to make the twenty-minute drive back to my condo. However, once I arrived and pulled into my parking spot in the enclosed garage, I wasn’t ready to head upstairs just yet.
I still had the energy from the fight coursing through my veins and that did not make for a good night’s sleep. Thus, instead of heading toward the elevator to the twelfth floor of my building, I headed for the stairs that led to the open sidewalk. Walking aimlessly for a while, I ended up approximately ten blocks from where I started—on a street lined with bars and a few restaurants that converted to lounges this late in the evening.
Most of the doors of the nightclubs and bars were open, seeking to lure people through their doors. The giggles and cheers of the patrons in each of the bars turned my fucking stomach. I didn’t like being in large groups of people. Hell, I didn’t like most people in general. So, I opted to keep walking, with no intentions of stopping at any of the clubs. There was a bar at the end of this street that was usually pretty quiet. Every time I came to this establishment, there were only a handful of other patrons; I wondered how they stayed open. Nevertheless, the beers were cold and that’s all I needed.
