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He was losing his mind. Maybe he had taken a hard hit to the head.
Izzy’s opponent had a coach of some kind with her, but Izzy was alone. She shouldn’t be alone. Even Jig had Zach in his corner. She’d need someone to hand her water, wipe away any blood—Jesus, she might bleed—and give her pointers. Someone to catch something she might miss about her opponent. Occasionally being so close to the action, fighters missed little details about their opponents a third party would notice.
Jig sure as hell wasn’t volunteering for the job, but…
“How the fuck did you know she was gonna be here, Z? How do you even know her?” Jig asked.
“She’s been training at the gym for hours every night over the past week. She’s damn good, brother. Overheard her muttering to herself about a match and put two and two together.”
“She by herself?”
Zach nodded. “Always.”
“So why don’t you go up there and be her fucking trainer?” He hadn’t meant it to sound quite as hostile as it did but, come on, no one fought completely solo. Who the fuck would drag her out if something happened?
Running a hand through his perfectly styled blond hair, Zach pursed his lips. “Hmm, not a bad idea. Sure you don’t want the job?”
“Yes, I’m fucking sure.” Shit, all the tension-relieving benefits of his own fight were flying out the goddamned window as restless agitation crept back in.
“All right then. Super Zach to save the day.” Zach shrugged out of his cut and handed it to Jig. “Keep it safe for me, brother.” Then he clapped his hands together three times. “Gonna go win me some more cash.” Bounding up to the ring, he let out a whistle and a holler that broke through Izzy’s focus. She turned her head in the direction of the noise, and her gaze met Jig’s.
A quick flare of the eyes and parting of the lips was her only acknowledgment of his presence but showed she hadn’t known he was there. Ignoring the hot punch of desire that struck low in his gut as he imagined those lips parting for his cock, he dipped his chin once.
She blinked then lifted her own chin back at him. Zach ducked through the ropes and slung an arm across her shoulders, bringing his head close to hers. They whispered back and forth, and, if Jig wasn’t mistaken, relief spread across Izzy’s face.
He sure as fuck couldn’t leave now. Crossing his arms, he stared at the ring and tried to block out the nagging question boring a hole into his brain.
Why the fuck did he care what the hell happened to Isabella Monroe?
CHAPTER SIX
THANK GOD FOR Zach.
Izzy’s nerves were stretched so tight the air wafting by irritated her skin. She might not let people into her life easily, but she’d always had a trainer with her at an event like this. The moment she walked into the old warehouse and saw the hundreds of half-wasted men being rowdy and battle-drunk, she had realized her mistake. If she conked out during the match, there’d be no one to make sure she made it out in one piece. Nor would there be anyone to critique her form, catch any subtleties she might miss in her opponent, give her pointers, or slap her ass and tell her job well done if she won.
Then Zach, who owned the gym, appeared out of nowhere like a giant, tatted biker angel of mercy. Just as Zach wormed his big body through the ropes, she caught sight of Jig standing with Maverick and Stephanie, the same scowl he’d had in the shop plastered on his face. His dark hair was matted to his forehead, his shirt was soaked through with sweat, and a puff of purple was growing under his eye. Sometime between when she met him and now, he’d tamed his beard as well.
Was he a fighter? Had he fought tonight?
She’d been hiding out in the makeshift locker room, wanting complete solitude before she was called up. Missing his fight was a damn shame. Watching him unleash all that power bubbling just beneath the surface would have been an experience. She bet he looked beautiful in action. Most people would probably think she was crazy, but she found the dance of fighters attractive. Sexy at times. And she just had a feeling Jig’s fight would have gotten her blood singing and her pussy wet.
He nodded at her, and contrary to how it made her feel in the shop, this time the chin dip warmed her heart. He’d sent Zach over. Somehow, she just knew it.
So she gave a nod of appreciation back and forced herself not to feel disappointed that he hadn’t joined her himself.
“Damn, woman, you look ready to rock this bitch into next week,” Zach said as he slung an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t look too shabby in this tight-ass getup either.”
