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As the men agreed, Jesse scanned the room to see that more people had arrived. Most were out on the blue mats stretching and shooting the shit, and there were maybe eighteen in all—and Dani and Tara were the only women.
Not interesting, my ass.
He and Coach sat on a bench. “So Jesse, tell me a little about yourself.”
&n
bsp; “Well, I retired from navy EOD last year and just moved to DC for a new job a few weeks ago.”
Coach made some notes. “Any prior MMA experience?”
Jesse nodded. “I have a third-degree black belt in taekwondo. And I’ve done some boxing, wrestling, and judo.”
“That’s perfect,” Coach said. “How about injuries?”
He shook his head. “I’m in good health.”
“Prior injuries?”
Just then, Tara emerged from the locker room wearing a pair of gray spandex bike shorts, a loose-fitting tank over a sports bra, and a pair of black fingerless gloves. God, she had curves for days and drew him like a fucking magnet.
Jesse cleared his throat. “Oh, uh. Yeah. A few. Two GSWs, one to the thigh, the other to the shoulder. A mild TBI about eight years ago. And, you know, a million close calls.” Like the time ten pounds of explosive had detonated a few feet behind him, tossing him a dozen feet in the air and burning and bloodying the backs of his legs. But it hadn’t been his time, and he’d walked away from that roadside bomb—flipping his middle finger at the unseen insurgent who’d triggered it for good measure. Due to the nature of the gig, EOD techs suffered some of the most severe and life-changing injuries in the military. By comparison, Jesse had gotten off easy, so the attention on this wasn’t entirely comfortable.
The older man listened intently, the kind of listening that made you feel heard. Understood, even. Finally, Coach Mack nodded and handed him some paperwork. “If you decide to join, get this back to me next time. You’re clear to participate in everything except sparring today. Need your doc to sign off before that.”
Nodding, Jesse tucked the packet into his duffle. “Thanks, Coach.”
Clapping him on the back, Mack smiled. “Welcome to Warrior Fight Club.”
Chapter 13
Jesse was liking WFC. The people were cool. It was the perfect way to keep up his exercise routine. And, just like at work, it was good to be around military personnel again—people who understood a lot about you and your experiences without even having to ask.
It also meant more time with Tara—even if sometimes Jesse was competing against her, like he was now.
They were on opposing sides of a tag-team grappling drill that focused on groundwork skills, which were all about achieving the submission of your opponent after a takedown. It shifted the focus of the fight from striking and kicking to wrestling and grappling. A good fighter needed to be competent at both, because in a true fight you had to be able to transition between different martial arts techniques sometimes in the space of just a few seconds.
Jesse had been placed on a team with Noah, Dani, and Leo, along with a few other people he’d only been able to talk to long enough to shake hands and exchange names.
“We’re practicing groundwork here,” Coach Mack said. “Your turn ends when you tap out or if you can get close enough to the edge to tag in one of your teammates. No striking, this is all about grappling for submission. Mo, Sean, you’re up first.”
Good-natured laughter and ribbing rumbled around the group, and then Jesse saw why. Both men were stacked. “Come on, Mo,” Jesse said, cheering on his teammate.
With their teams forming a circle around them, the two men knelt facing one another. Both looked like mountains compared to the rest of the men in the room—none of whom were small. Jesse was half glad he wasn’t starting off facing one of them. Mack gave the signal, and they tapped gloves. And then it was on—the grappling and the shit-talking.
“Hate to take you down, Mo,” Sean said.
Mo actually managed to chuckle as they struggled for dominance. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you.”
“Come on, Mo, get him,” Dani said. “Teach that bigmouth a lesson.”
“Love you, too, D,” Sean called out.
It was teasing he paid for, though, because Mo managed to get a hold around Sean’s chest and flipped him over, going for a rear-naked choke with a body lock. Sean just escaped it, rolling his hips in a way that weakened Mo’s hold. Going for another lock, Mo rolled him, coming close enough to tag Dani in.
“Excellent,” she said, rubbing her hands together.
Everyone congratulated Mo as he came out.
