“My apologies for the delay, folks,” Joe chuckled. “Looks like Romeo was living up to his namesake.”
I looked back over my shoulder as I inched through the crowd. The room quickly filled with sniggering and wolf whistles, all directed at Roxy as she remained at the top of the stairs. She didn’t care (she thrived on that kind of attention) but was pinning me with a glare, her knuckles near white from the grip she had on the rail. Then she turned on her heel and marched back into the corridor. Followed out by the boos and disappointed groans of the men in the room.
The distraction Roxy provided had bought me a little time to get through to the barrier. Jumping over it easily, my feet hit the floorboards and a deafening eruption of cheers roared around the room in response. One of the few people not cheering was Antonio, sitting in his little section of the crowd with front-row seats. His expression gave off nothing, his hands crossed over the end of his cane as he tapped his fingers.
He didn’t like it when one of his fighters was late.
Waiting and pacing on the other side of the pit was Murphy. A gold tooth replaced the incisor I had knocked out on Saturday. His short, blonde hair was shaved closer to his head. He looked pissed and ready for redemption, knocking his wrapped fists against one another and not taking his eyes off me. Like an enraged snake ready to strike.
And then he did, without the prompt of Joe’s bell. Launching himself across the pit, he swung before I had a chance to get my arms free of my hoodie.
He aimed high, so I went low, barging my shoulder into his gut and pushing him into the middle as he beat his fists into my back. The last thing I wanted was to be backed against the barrier. I shoved him off and sent a quick glare at Joe, slowly pacing nearby. Ripping off my hoodie quickly, I mouthed, “What the fuck?”
Joe only shrugged and tilted his head in Antonio’s direction.
I barely got my arms out of the sleeves before Murphy swung again. Twisting aside, I finally yanked my arms loose.
Antonio was smirking. He wanted me to be caught off guard as punishment for arriving the way I had.
I gritted my teeth and tossed the hoodie aside, rolling out my shoulders as I stalked towards Murphy. His smile was pure malice as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, leaning more on his left side.
“Her pussy must be something if she’s got you runnin’ late,” he chuckled.
“Shut the fuck up.”
He expected me to go for his face, keeping his arms up to block, but I kicked out his right leg instead. Watching as he winced before his back hit the ground.
Murphy took muscle relaxers for cramps or muscle spasms. A little detail Seb had told me earlier tonight. He had seen Murphy take them while out the back with his team. With that in mind, and him saving his right leg so much, it was easy to figure out what the pills were for.
Maybe it was time he retired.
I slowly circled him as he got off the floor, giving him a little time to shake off the head spins before I struck again. Swiping it out from under him a second time, he fell forward this time, face-planting hard.
He slammed a closed fist onto the ground in frustration, spitting a blob of blood onto the ground before he got to his feet. Swaying and panting a little, he wiped blood from the fresh split in his bottom lip. Then his eyes widened and his hand shot back to his mouth as he felt for his gold tooth. Only to find a gap.
“You motherfucker,” he growled in that thick, Irish brogue.
“Has your mother been asking for me again, Murph?” I half smirked.
Rage filled Murphy’s eyes.
Now the fight could really begin.
I bit down hard into my bunched-up T-shirt as Seb rotated my right arm backward. A grinding, stretching pain burst through my upper arm before my shoulder slipped back into place with a muffled pop. Instant relief flooded the stretched tendons in my arm, and I slumped back onto the couch, letting my shirt drop from my teeth.
“Maybe don’t act so smug next time,” Seb said from beside me, pressing an ice pack to his ribs.
I massaged my shoulder and half smiled. “It was still worth it.”
Seb huffed a laugh and shook his head.
Murphy had almost won. After 35 minutes, he decided to use a shoulder throw when he finally had an opening.
I had thrown a punch; he blocked and grabbed my arm. Twisting himself around so fast all I could do was think of how I wanted to land once he dropped me from his shoulder height. Either land head first or post my arm. I went with the latter and finished and won the fight with a dislocated shoulder.
“Well done, tonight, boys,” Antonio said as he came to a stop beside the arm of the couch, resuming his usual, casual stance of folding his hands over the top of his cane.
“Thanks, boss,” Seb half smiled.
