My fingers claw into his arms as blood runs down my cheek, but it’s too tight. Too fucking tight. My vision shrinks, but I don’t know if it’s from the cheap shot or lack of oxygen. Probably both.
“Fuck!” I seethe as my hand finds the mat, and I slap my palm against it, tapping out just to see if my eye is still in my skull or if it’s punctured on the asshole’s finger like a black olive after the shit he pulled. The ref approaches instantly. He tugs Morgan off me, then raises my opponent’s hand into the air, declaring him the winner, and fuck if it doesn’t sting. Literally. Gingerly, I press my fingers against my eye, confirming it’s where it’s supposed to be. Yeah, it doesn’t feel good. I’m gonna need some ice and maybe a doctor’s appointment.
I’ve never lost a fight. Not an official one, anyway. It probably cost my brothers a few grand a piece. The realization burns almost as much as the loss. Add in my aching eye that’s already swelling shut, and I’m nothing short of livid.
“Good fight, Jag off!” Morgan calls behind me.
Ignoring him, I stand up from the mat and stride toward the edge of the ring as the crowd loses their shit around me from the fight’s results. Yeah, I didn’t think I’d lose either. Join the club.
“What the hell happened?” Roman demands. “You had him?—”
“Guess it wasn’t my night.” Attempting to block the damage from his view, I reach for my discarded shirt and press it to my eye socket.
“Let me get you some ice,” Roman grumbles.
“Probably a good idea.” I can feel my heartbeat in the side of my face.Thump thump. Thump thump. Yeah, this can’t be good. I can only imagine how shitty I must look right now. Not that it matters.
My best friend returns a minute later, offering me the ice wrapped in a towel. “Here.”
Removing my shirt so I can replace it with the homemade ice-pack, I take the towel from Roman when he grabs my wrist and stops me. “Let me see,” he demands. Roman grabs my jaw and forces my head to one side so he can get a better look. “Shit.”
Sensing our friend’s concern, Ford moves closer and pushes Roman aside, so he can discern the damage, too. “What the hell?”
“Ref!” Roman booms.
“Don’t,” I seethe.
“Ref!” Ford chimes in.
I shove him away. “I said don’t.”
“There a problem?” the ref interjects.
I look over my shoulder, and the man frowns before moving forward with the same concern as my family. Careful of my split brow, he frames my eyes with his thumb and forefinger, spreading the swollen surface apart so he can get a better lookat my actual eyeball. Coming to his own conclusion, I’m almost surprised when he asks me, “Did he eye gouge?”
My glare cuts to Ethan. The bastard’s already off the mat, celebrating with his friends. He pulls the girl beside Violet into a hug, then does the same to his sister, causing another wave of red to wash over me.
“Jagger?” the ref pushes.
“It’s swollen from the hit in the first round,” I answer, tearing my attention from Violet and back to the ref. “It was a clean fight.”
“Bullshit,” Ford snarls.
I give him a warning look. “I said it was clean.”
The ref gives us both a pointed stare as my brother’s jaw works overtime. Yeah, he’s pissed, but I’m not a rat, and I sure as shit am not interested in winning by default.
“If he says it was clean, it was clean,” the ref finally decides.
Another heavy pause follows until Roman steps forward. “Thanks again for your help tonight. We’ll be in touch when the next fight night gets closer. As always, I’ll drop off payment tomorrow morning.”
The ref nods and shifts back. “Thanks again.” He turns to me. “Take care of the cut above your eye, too. It looks like it’s gonna need stitches.”
“Sure thing.”
“I’m serious, Jagger,” the ref warns.
“So am I,” I lie.
