Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Remy, I’ll choke you out.” I tighten my arm a fraction more.
He launches himself backward, throwing my shoulder into the cage wall. The fence is sturdy but not exactly up to safety standards. It buckles and rattles. I release him from the hold, brace my palms against his shoulders and shove him away from me.
He coughs and sucks in a huge breath, but whips around faster than I expected and fires off a kick to my midsection. I dodge the worst of it but his heel glances off my side and I stumble against the cage again.
I hurry to put distance between us. Regroup. New attack plan.
We circle each other slowly.
Remy runs a lot. He’s got endurance. I won’t tire him out easily. As furious as I am, I don’t want to hurt him more than I have to. But he’s obviously not giving up.
Fuck it. I move in, letting him think he has an easy shot at my face. As soon as he cocks his arm I duck and take him down.
“Fucker,” he breathes out.
I’m an octopus, wrapping my limbs around him. Locking my legs around his hips and my arm around his neck. A python, squeezing my prey.
He freezes for a second, then lets his body go limp.
“I’m not falling for that.” I squeeze him harder. We’re ending this now.
“I. Warned. You. Not. To. Hurt. Her.” He reaches up and behind, knocking his glove against my temple. Not enough to hurt. More like the annoying tap of a cat’s paw.
“I didn’t know…” The protest dies on my tongue. I’m tired of saying it. Tired of defending my actions. I’ve apologized to Molly and she forgave me. But I hurt Remy too and my pride wouldn’t allow me to admit it. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I never wanted any of that.”
He taps my arm three times.
Finally.
I release him so fast, his chin hits the floor. He rolls to his back, panting and staring up at the ceiling. I fall down on the mat an arm’s length away.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
He rolls his head my way. “You’re right. I should have known it was bullshit. I’m sorry too.”
My eyes widen and I flick my gaze to the ceiling. “Holy shit. Did you manage to knock me out after all? Am I hallucinating? The great Remington Holt didn’t just apologize, did he?”
“Christ, you came home a better grappler and a supreme asshole. Fantastic.”
“Hah. You admit I’m better than you. Finally.”
“That’s not what I said.” He groans and rolls to a sitting position, then glances over at me. “But yeah, you’re damn good.”
I sit up and stretch. “Thank you.”
“I hate that you’re doing the Vegas fight.”
“Why?”
He runs his hand over the top of his head and winces, then shakes out his arm. “I’m worried it’s another setup. I don’t trust anything that comes as a result of that damn show.”
He’s not saying anything I haven’t already considered. “It’s not the same company. But yeah, the way they got Underhill to agree to coach me, means they’re probably involved.” I stop and consider the bigger picture. “We both know I have a small window of opportunity, though. Once the second season airs, everyone will lose interest in me. Life will return to normal.”
He scoffs. “I think you’re kidding yourself. But okay.”
“I’d like your support.”
“You’ve already got it. You know that.” He hesitates. “I’m not thrilled Molly’s going with you to Vegas, though.”
“I can’t do this again without her. It’s not fair. It won’t interfere with her classes—”
“I’m not worried about that. She’ll be done with finals, by then.”
“You worried she’ll get upset during the fight?” If things get as bad as they did in my fight with Naptime, I don’t know if Molly can handle seeing me bleed that much.
“Yeah.” He stretches out his arm and waves his hand near my face. “For some reason she likes your ugly mug arranged as it is.” He pauses, then adds, “I also don’t want any of the fight bros that’ll be hanging around the event bothering her. They’ll do it just to fuck with your head.”
A slow grin slides over my face. “Then come with us, and be my fight bro, bro.”
He flicks his gaze to the ceiling. “Yeah, I probably should be there to chaperon. I don’t want you two getting any ideas while you’re in Vegas.”
It takes a second for his meaning to sink in. “Molly wants to get married in a rose garden, not Vegas.”
He groans and shakes his head.
“We’re not ready for that anyway.” I cock my head. “You don’t need to make up reasons. It’s okay to want to be there to watch me win. Just say you’ll be my emotional support fight bro.”
He cracks up and kicks his foot at me. “Fine, fucker. Yeah, I wanna be there to see you hand that guy his ass. And to make sure no one in his crew tries to mess with you outside the ring.”