Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
As if she’s ignored our protests, one of the girls makes a beeline for Venom, Bear Trap, and me. If she moves any quicker, her boobs are gonna explode out of her tight red satin dress.
They might’ve dressed her up like a tart, but her hazel eyes are sharp and assessing. “Venom, Stonewall, Bear Trap, right?” she says pointing at each of us. “I’m Kiki.”
“Congratulations,” Venom says in a dry tone.
“Not. Interested,” Bear Trap adds.
Who knows if she wasn’t tricked into being here? Maybe she was told she’d auditioned for a date-an-athlete show. “Sorry. I think we’re all spoken for.” I glance at Bear Trap to confirm but he just keeps glaring at Kiki.
“Where the fuck is Diane?” Venom twists around, his gaze searching the vast house. He storms off, and Bear Trap follows him.
Kiki steps closer to me. “Don’t go.” She pouts. “We watched the pickup videos for all the guys. Your little girlfriend was so cute.” Her tone turns a shade mocking.
Danger prickles over the back of my neck. My expression hardens. I didn’t want to be a dick, but my relationship isn’t up for discussion. With anyone. Not for any price.
She glances to the side, then lifts her gaze to mine again. She rests her hand on my chest. “I’ve got a question for you, though.”
I wrap my hand around her wrist and pry her hand off me. “Yeah? What’s that?” I sneer.
“Why are you letting some little girl back in your hick town lock you down so young, Griff?” Her hazel eyes drill into mine but there’s no genuine curiosity or kindness. “You have so much potential. Why shackle yourself to one girl when you can have your pick of any woman?”
She wants to bait me into an argument. And I’m not biting.
I lean down to make sure she hears every word. “You wouldn’t understand. She’s not my prison. She’s my peace.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Griff
Everything I thought I knew about fighting up to this point in my life was a lie.
I’ve never trained harder. In school, I learned to fight on the playground to protect myself and later to protect my friends. In the dank basement of the detention center, I started out fighting to gain special privileges from the sick guards who pitted inmates against each other. Later, it became a battle just to survive that hellhole.
Once I left the correctional facility behind, I never fought dirty. Hard—yes. Dirty—no.
Remy and I formed our fight club to keep our skills sharp and earn extra money. I thought I was hot shit. I rarely lost a fight at The Castle. Respect was earned with blood, sweat, and fists.
At the “training house,” I’m way the fuck out of my depth. The little underground fighting ring I run with Remy might as well be a playground happy hour.
Half of these guys are street fighters. Dirty fighters. The kind of guys Remy and I would ban from entering the ring at The Castle.
Despite the upscale surroundings, it reminds me way too much of my time in the basement.
Venom, Bear Trap, Woolly, and I form a sort of alliance. Together, we’ve avoided the “romantic drama” element that was introduced to the show.
They’re all serious fighters. Venom’s clearly above all our skill levels, but instead of dogging us for it or using our lack of knowledge against us, he’s been showing us different techniques. Each of us adds a little something to our group.
Unfortunately, one thing I know a lot about is avoiding strikes. I can advance, and dodge, and throw some vicious punches. The day before our first matches, we huddle in the gym and talk strategy.
“Your reflexes are unbelievable,” Venom says.
I tilt my head. “I’ve conditioned myself to respond without thinking.”
“I see that. You’ve got a useful toolbox of moves.”
I snort. Sounds like something Eraser would say. “I have a friend back home that would agree with you.”
“He fight too?”
“Sometimes.” Only out of necessity.
“You’re going up against Hammer Fists. You need to use your evasive moves,” Woolly says.
No shit. That guy’s built like the side of a mountain.
Venom nods. “He’ll bulldoze you easily if you try to engage him at long range.”
“I don’t know about easily,” I protest, mildly insulted. “But yeah, I plan to get close, cut loose, withdraw.”
“Resist the temptation to blast him with a flurry of body shots,” Bear Trap says.
I roll my eyes his way. “Do I look suicidal?”
“He’s heavy on the back leg,” Venom says with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “A quick step in and chop is something he probably won’t expect.”
“He’s heavy period,” Woolly says. “Make him move so he’s out of breath. Use those quick feet to dart away and cut some angles. Make him keep moving to defend himself.”
“I will.” I’ve fought bigger guys before, and that strategy’s worked well.
On fight night, I’m bubbling over with confidence. Maybe too much. The air in the arena we’re using tonight is thick with anticipation.