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Pushing forward with a kick to the chest, he stumbles back against the ring. Keeping on him, I hit him with a combination punch then a sweep to knock him on his ass. The kid doesn’t even see it coming.
I flip him to his stomach and pull his arm behind his back, keeping him pinned as I put him in a headlock. He struggles for a bit, but he knows he can’t get out of it. He can continue struggling all he wants, but we all know if he waits too long, he’s going to pass out. So instead, he does the one thing I’ll never do in front of a crowd—he taps out, giving me some of the easiest money of my life.
I get to my feet and help the kid up just as the ref comes out to hold my hand up and declare me the winner. And hell, maybe in a few years when he’s got some more training under his belt, I might even enjoy taking him on again.
I strut out of the ring, pretty damn pleased with myself, and wondering why the hell I didn’t get in the ring years ago. Hell, with the money I’m pulling in right now, I’ll be buying my own place pretty soon. Though, I might wait to see just how far I make it in this competition before purchasing anything. After all, if I win the final, it will change what kind of place I could buy, and hell, I plan on buying something really nice. Especially considering I have every intention of taking Charli with me.
The second I’m out of the ring, Cole launches himself at me along with Luke and Caden, who beam and boast about how great that was. Though to tell the truth, it seems too easy to boast about. When I get further into the competition and actually earn the win, then I’ll be happy to brag. Hell, beating this guy was almost easier than taking Caden down during the warm-up.
The guys lead me back out to the fighters’ room, and Cole puts me through a cool down, clearly forgetting about being pissed at me before the fight.
Dropping onto the bench, I peel off the tape around my knuckles. “Alright, see you later, kid,” Cole says once we’re done.
“Yeah, see ya,” I say, shoving my shit into my bag and turning to the door.
“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for being late,” he reminds me. “There’ll be hell to pay in training tomorrow.”
Fuck.
I give him a curt nod before saying my goodbyes to the boys and a few of the other fighters I’ve gotten to know over the past few months. Then after collecting my winnings, I make my way out, dying to get home to my girl.
I’m nearly at my truck when a movement through the darkness pulls me up short, and I find someone leaning up against my truck. My stare narrows, slowly creeping closer. I’ve already been jumped once, I’m not looking to make it twice. As I get closer, a strange familiarity starts to nag at me, until finally, I can make out his face.
Shit. Game over.
Aaron leans against the side of my truck with his foot propped up on the tire, his hands buried deep. His stance is casual, but after being on the team with the guy since the start of the season, I know his stance isn’t casual at all. Hell, he’s furious.
“Hey, man,” I cringe as I throw my gear in the backseat.
He doesn’t say a word, just looks at me with anger and betrayal pouring out of his eyes as he continues leaning against the truck. His head tilts slightly, and I know he’s ready. “You could have told us. We wouldn’t have said anything.”
“Seriously? You get why I can’t tell anyone about this, right? It’s the fucking Underground. It’s illegal. If anyone found out that you guys knew, you’d all be going down right along with me,” I explain. “Each and every one of you would have to kiss your NHL dreams goodbye.”
“Really? That’s the bullshit excuse you’re going with?” he scoffs. “We’re not fucking idiots. No one would have said a word. Hell, we probably would have been here after the games to cheer you on instead of getting fucked up at some ridiculous house party. We’ve all been wondering what the fuck is going on with you.”
“Sorry, man,” I grunt, unapologetically. “I’m prepared to risk my future, but I wouldn’t risk the whole fucking teams’ future.”
Aaron lets out a frustrated sigh, clenching his jaw. “Fuck,” he spits, pushing off the side of my truck as his hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck. “I don’t know whether to be pissed at you or impressed with how fucking good you are.”
“Yeah,” I grin. “I don’t suck.”
