Page 111 of Sterling Fight

I’m also feeling a little off tonight.

A strange vibe buzzes around me. Nerves I haven’t felt since my first fight years ago. When Harvey Mack asked why a pretty boy like me would want to box. He didn’t like my answer. I said I had my reasons. Hoping to set me down a peg, he put me in the ring with a guy in the next higher weight class. I didn’t win but I held my own, hellbent on proving myself. To Harvey. To me.

And I’ve become a fan favorite.

But now, who was I proving anything to? Genie didn’t want to see this side of me, but she was also sitting out there waiting on me.

She’d be my reason to fight tonight.

I press off the cold metal chair and follow the kid into the dim arena. An area that is darker than the front bar, lighting aimed only on the twenty-by-twenty space. The air around the ring is smoky although smoking is not allowed in here. The surrounding tables are hard to make out, but I know exactly where Genie is seated.

As I slide through the ropes, I glance her way, noticing two men are also sitting at the table with her while two more stand behind her like bodyguards. Arms crossed over their chests. Stern looks on their faces.

Shit.

Knox and Ford both look stoic. Clay leans on the table, his face unreadable for once. Sebastian sits next to him, leaning forward against his thighs, one leg bouncing like mine had been only moments ago.

At first, anger spikes. Genie. What did she do? How could she do this to me? I feel betrayed. I’d trusted her with this secret, not wanting my family to know. Wanting something for me.

A new surge fills me. A fresh level of irritation.

Why am I only proving to myself I can fight? They should all see that I’m not a weakling. I’m stronger than they give me credit. I’m braver than they know.

So when the match is called and my opponent, some guy from Wrightwood, another small town in West Virginia, steps forward, I easily fall into a better mindset.

Focus. Determination. Fight.

We dance, at first. A hop here, a bounce there, until the first punch is thrown. I’m not even certain who strikes first.

As the battle begins, I’m all in. The gathered crowd disappears. The murmur of the patrons mutes. Nothing outside the ring exists for me.

My mind goes blank.

Then, that unfamiliar buzz humming near me in the locker room returns. The energy crackling around me like a sudden summer storm. I shake it off again.

My opponent and I circle one another before a second round of hits happen. A right hook to his chest. A left jab to my shoulder.

Despite my no-face rule, my opposition gets a knock to my head, and I twist.

The sharp feminine gasp from just outside the ring breaks through the muting barrier in my head. My vision flips outside the perimeters of the ropes. In a matter of seconds, I take in everything.

Genie’s hand covering her mouth. Clay sitting straighter. Sebastian leaning upright, holding up a fist. Knox has lowered his arms. Ford leans toward him, muttering something out the side of his mouth.

Then, I hear my name. “Get him, Judd.”

I don’t know who calls it, but it brings me back to the ring and the man standing opposite me, bouncing on his toes and taunting me.

“Pretty little thing you got there,” he snarks, salacious and hungry for a taste of what’s mine.

I lose my mind at the thought of anyone coming near Genie. Hurting her. Touching her. And I become a fury of fists. Practiced punches and hammering hooks. Quick jabs and dancing feet.

The next few minutes are a whirlwind until someone is pulling me off my opponent and pressing me into the opposite corner.

My chest heaves. My heart thunders against my ribs.

I glance toward the table where my family remains, staring in shock and wonder and pride.

But Genie is missing.