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Nope. Not going there.
A strange pang hit dead center in Izzy’s chest when she turned back to Maverick and Stephanie. She had to glance away. Love was written all over those two, and Izzy had no idea how to react to those feelings. She could honestly say she’d never spent any significant amount of time with people who loved each other, romantic or otherwise. Her mother loved only herself, and Izzy hadn’t let herself get close enough to anyone to love them. By now, her ability to love had to be stunted for sure.
She chatted off and on with Stephanie and Shell as she finished her meal then made her way back outside. She’d walk the distance back home since jogging on a full stomach was never a good idea.
Instead of curing the feeling of restlessness, her experience at the diner had intensified them. She wasn’t used to putting herself out there, and it was starting to grate on her. Drawing the phone number out of her pocket, she opened a new text and entered the information she was instructed to relay.
Izzy Monroe.
5’8”.
150 lbs.
10 wins 2 losses.
When she was just about home, her phone buzzed.
Friday night. 10pm. Will send directions Friday afternoon.
Immediately, some of the tension left her spine. She had five days to get ready for her next match, which should keep her mind and body occupied.
And away from thoughts of hot, brooding bikers with sad stories.
CHAPTER FIVE
JIG SPIT HIS mouthguard into his hand and sucked tremendous gulps of icy water straight from the gallon jug.
Damn, he was thirsty. The exertion, plastic mouthguard, and heavy breathing left him parched every time.
A hefty hand slapped him on the back, making the jug slip from his lips. Freezing water sloshed over his bare chest and ran in arctic-cold streams down his abs. If he hadn’t been so overheated, the blast of frigid water would have made his balls shrivel, but since he’d just beat the ass of some punk from out of state, he needed the cooldown.
“Good fucking fight, brother,” Zach said. “Somehow you managed to wipe the floor with him even though I haven’t seen you in my gym in two weeks.” He raised an eyebrow and tossed Jig a towel.
“Been working out at home,” Jig said as he wiped perspiration off his face and neck.
Zach grunted. “Fuck that. You need to spar, not just lift and hit the bag. Don’t want to say you got lucky tonight, but this guy wasn’t the toughest fucker you’ve faced.”
Was Zach for real? Jig just knocked some shitbag out in two rounds, and Zach was ragging on him? He opened his mouth to fire back at his brother when Zach’s face broke out in a shit-eating grin.
“Messing with ya,” Zach said.
Fucker.
Still cocky like he was the one who kicked ass, Zach said, “But seriously, you need to get back in the gym before the next fight. The next guy ain’t a slouch. When is it? Six weeks from now?”
Jig nodded. “Yeah, and I will. Just been a rough few weeks.” His heart gradually returned to a resting rate as the thrill of the fight seeped from his body. Already, just a few minutes out, the heavy weight of sorrow he’d been carrying around for the past few weeks had lightened. Always did when he pushed his body to extremes.
Nothing compared to the intense physical exertion of battling another human being when it came to ridding the body and mind of whatever toxicity had invaded them. Jig had tried to replicate the feeling in the gym, pushing himself to the limit for hours with weights, running, even flipping tires, but he could never shake the grip of despair unless he was fighting a down and dirty match.
Sometimes, as he dodged punches and used his intelligence to outwit his opponents, he was struck with the difference between the man who occupied the ring and the man he’d once been and always had planned to be.
If the Lincoln of just seven years ago had been told he would one day become an MMA-fighting, outlaw biker with more sins on his back than the devil himself, he’d have fallen to the ground with belly-heaving laughter. The man he’d been in those days felt guilty for killing a spider. Never would he have imagined laying his hands on another human being and enjoying the fuck out of it. Craving it, really. But life had changed him in the harshest of ways. Not just changed what he believed or how he acted, but fundamentally changed who he was at the core. At a cellular level, he wasn’t the man he’d been.
Some days he felt at peace with the hardened, tough biker and fighter he’d developed into. No one fucked with him anymore. If they tried, they ended up bleeding and broken. Being on top of the food chain had its perks, and security was one of them. Of course, Lefty was stupid enough to threaten that security, but Jig had no doubt his MC would take care of the Gray Dragons gang in time.
