Vail frowned at me, and even though his gaze kept shooting away whenever someone walked past, I had his attention. “What do you mean fight professionally again? Since when?”
Fallon was still chewing, so it was up to me to answer.
“We talked and he misses fighting.” I gestured in the direction of the cage where a few officials were running around getting ready for the match. “I told him Mr. Killough might be able to get him back into it. Become his sponsor. He’d need to win some matches, but he can do it.”
“I’m not that old yet,” Fallon said after he’d finally swallowed what was left in his mouth. “And I still have fire left in me.” He leaned closer to Vail and lowered his voice. “You know all about what kind of energy I have, don’t you?”
I couldn’t see Vail’s face while he looked at Fallon but could imagine it, especially when he whispered, “I love your energy. You keep me going all night.”
A low buzz began in the crowd, and I checked the large screen on one of the walls. The timer on it was counting down—it was only a minute until the first fight, and the audience was ready. Shouting had begun a few rows back, and there were cheers, too, as the announcer walked into the cage with a microphone and raised his hand.
Whatever Fallon was saying to Vail stopped immediately and he turned his attention to the man in the middle of the cage. The introductions began, and when the announcer called out Jack Murphy’s name, along with his nickname, The Leprechaun, half the crowd went wild while the other half booed.
The Gallagher men sitting across from us to the left side of the cage stood, clapping and hooting as Murphy came out of one of the entranceways that led past the crowd. He got high-fives on the way down as he bounced on his feet and mimed punches in his bright green-and-silver robe. When he got closer to the Gallaghers they shook hands with him, and he gave them a grin, or as much as he could with the green guard jammed into his mouth.
Next came Oleksander—The Dragon—Zmey, and he got the same reaction, with half the audience cheering and the other half booing. He wore a white robe with red flames around the bottom, but he stripped that off as soon as he got to the side of the cage, then raised his hands and roared. His fans went wild, jumping to their feet and chanting “Dragon” repeatedly.
While I wasn’t the hugest fan of MMA, I couldn’t fault the atmosphere. The arena was dark and lights streaked over the crowd and past the fighters, and music pumped at high volume, amping up the excitement.
The referee took the time to pat down the fighters, probably to check for anything sharp, before they were welcomed into the octagon. The announcer left the cage once he’d done his spiel about both fighters, and the referee took his place before the fight started.
I didn’t much care for the dramatics, but these sportsmen did it well. While there was no doubt they were talented at fighting, their antics fired up their fans and the hollering and yelling grew louder. Fallon leaned over with a hand on Vail’s knee to explain to him what was happening. He said something about dirty boxing, eye gouges, clinching, elbow strikes, and submission, and the only one that caught my attention was the last word.
The way Murphy and Zmey fought was sexy and reminded me a bit of me and Cillian, and how we tortured and killed like it was a dance we knew well. We’d worked together long enough to know the other’s next move, and there was nothing sexier. The fight in front of me was more controlled, and whenever they went too far the referee pulled them back. There was no one to do that with me and Cillian and that’s how we liked it. I was fucking excited about Miami and what it would bring. Even with Jamie there, he wouldn’t control us. He knew what we were like.
“Fuck! Did you see that?” Fallon shouted toward me, and I blinked, completely missing what had happened.
Vail nudged me, and I smirked at him, kissing him on the cheek.
“What were you thinking about?” he asked, after Fallon turned back to the fight.
“Nothing.” I wanted to tell him why we were going to Miami, but I couldn’t. The less Vail knew, the better. As far as he knew, Cillian and I were going away for Sloan, and that’s all. He knew it was for work, though. I cupped Vail’s cheek, and he focused on my eyes, his pupils going wide as I brushed my mouth over his. “Or maybe I’m thinking about you, and what Fallon and I are going to do to you when we get home.”
“Don’t tease me with a good time.” He exhaled, tongue swiping over his bottom lip.
There were cheers around us again, but we ignored them.
“Now you sound like Fallon. Tell me, is he hard right now, watching this fight?”
Vail’s teeth bit into his lip as he reached behind himself. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I suspected he was getting a squeeze of Fallon’s junk because Fallon hissed and his hips jerked forward.
“So hard,” Vail answered with a wicked grin.
Horny or not, Fallon’s eyes were on the cage, and nothing was pulling his attention away from it, not even Vail’s hand. That’s what I called commitment. Chuckling to myself, I dragged Vail against my side and settled in to watch Zmey and Murphy go at it.
Vail pouted up at me, and I kissed him on the nose.
“Later, baby. This is our date night, and Fallon’s enjoying it. We have all night.”
His brows dipped in concern. “I don’t like the idea of him fighting.”
“I know, but he likes it. The official cage is better than underground fights, right?”
Vail made a noise like he agreed, but he still wasn’t happy about it.
Whether we liked it or not, fighting was Fallon’s choice, and we weren’t his parents—we didn’t want to control him. He needed us to have his back, not stomp on it. He’d been made to feel useless his entire life, and I would chew off my own arm before I’d make him feel the same way. No, if he wanted to fight in the MMA cage again, I’d make it happen. All I needed to do was have a few words with Cillian and Sloan.
Fallon jumped to his feet and yelled when Zmey got Murphy in a leg bar. He spun toward me, grinning wider than I’d ever seen. “Best. Date. Night.Ever!”
