Page 12 of Ignited

Finishing her warmup, she went to the curtain that divided the ready area from the main club floor, and peeked out. The place was packed.

She hoped uneasily that Tucker had kept his word to her—and kept those damn flyers off the internet.

“You keep doing that,” Jake said. “Looking for your boyfriend?”

As if. She was looking for Maximilian’s men. She knew she was probably paranoid—but paranoid was how you stayed alive and out of cages.

She said to Jake, “More like my next victim.” Tucker had been bugging her to do a challenge fight—to let him pick some guy out of the audience to challenge her, after her regular fights.

The crowd loved that shit.

Jake laughed. “Come on over, Tiger Queen, and I’ll tape your hands.” The club fights were pretty much ‘no rules.’ Any style of fighting, so you got everything from kickboxing to MMA to bare-knuckle brawling, and the occasional wack job who just flung himself on you, kicking and scratching and howling.

No gloves, no helmets—just mouth guards, tape on your hands, and a slap on the back for good luck. Good thing she didn’t need luck.

She was about to turn away from the opening when her gaze fell on a group of men entering the club. One of them looked so familiar…

Then he turned so she could see his whole face, and her heart stopped.

In one second, her mind traveled back ten years, to a cage and a carnival tent and a teenage boy, looking at her through the bars. Packing the lock with explosives. Setting her free.

Boomer. But it couldn’t be. That had been two thousand miles away from here, in another lifetime. There was no way he could possibly show up, out of the blue, in this tiny fight venue in the middle of the Adirondacks.

It was crazy. But she was sure it was him.

Ten years had made a difference. He was taller, rougher, more muscled, his hard, wary expression saying he wasn’t somebody to mess with. But he had the same hair, brown with golden glints, long and shaggy and shoved back any which way. Same eyes, light brown and assessing.

She wondered if he was the same on the inside. Reckless, brave, with the kind of soft heart that made him want to rescue a caged shifter.

She’d been thinking about hiring local help. And it looked like Fate had sent her the one person who’d ever done right by her, asking nothing in return. Who’d risked himself for her.

She wondered if he would still be willing to risk everything for her. She wondered what he’d acquired in his life that he might not be willing to lose.

Maybe she should see what he was made of.

She walked over to Jake. “Get Tucker over here,” she said.

“What for? Don’t tell me you’re not fighting tonight.” He stopped moving, a strand of tape in his hands.

“Of course I’m fighting. But I need to talk to him.” She gave him her best tiger grin. “I’ve decided I want to do that challenge fight after all.”

Boomer hated the fight club the minute he walked inside. It was hot, dim, and claustrophobic: too many sweaty bodies jostling for position, too much stink of testosterone, spilled alcohol, and hidden rage.

He and his wolf were already buzzing with adrenalin, and all that just made it worse.

Everything in the club was low-rent—a basic boxing ring on a raised platform in the middle of the room, hard wooden bleachers around it. Not enough seating and no regard for fire regs, so more people were crowded in anywhere there was standing room.

There was a chalkboard on the wall, listing tonight’s fights, and a bulletin board next to it with headshots of the star attractions.

Underneath that was the oddsmaker, updating the betting odds on the chalkboard while the bookies went through the crowd taking bets and calling them in through their headsets.

Karisma the Siberian Tiger Queen stared at him from the bulletin board—the same picture as on the flyer, her grin challenging him. According to the schedule, she was fifth on the program—and sixth, and seventh. Three fights in a row.

He kept telling himself she couldn’t be the tiger from the carnival, all those years ago. He was crazy to think he’d ever find her. But this woman had to be some kind of shifter. No human could take three fights a night and be undefeated—especially the guys she looked to be fighting.

And her gaze gave him the same shivery feeling he’d gotten all those years ago when he first saw the tiger in the carnival tent.

Luckily, this place had an unlicensed bar. He was gonna need it.