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I should have known my brother didn’t have the spine for this life and would only look out for himself. He was never willing to step into a fight to help us out and was more than happy to be on the sidelines. I was blinded by thinking blood meant something.
Now I know blood has nothing to do with family.
Declan’s a better brother to me than Patrick ever was.
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and the thoughts of how fucking good Saoirse looked in her dress two nights ago is making it hard to concentrate as I leave the locker room and head out for my fight. I don’t fight as often as I used to, but lately it’s felt like the only outlet I had to burn off my frustration. I only had myself to blame for Saoirse going to school so far away and I knew it.
I welcomed a little bit of physical pain because I was putting myself through a shit ton of mental pain as it was. Every day with her thousands of miles away was pure fucking torture.
Now, I think I’ll be able to stop fighting again and only do it when I want to blow off a little steam or have a good time.
Boxing is as close as I’ve ever gotten to meditating. There’s something about the movement of it, the dance, and the way you need to read your opponent and get into their head. Then there’s the brute strength that goes along with it.
I slide between the ropes and soak up the way the crowd is already cheering for me. I’m not the crowd’s favorite, but they know I’ll put on a good show. The lights aren’t so bright in the room that I can’t see some of the people assembled to watch.
It’s a good-sized crowd tonight, even with how close it is to the holiday. This will be the last fight until after the New Year and it looks like people want to soak up a little violence before playing nice with their families or trudging through the holidays on their own.
When I turn toward the VIP section Declan has carved out for himself, I’m not expecting to see my Saoirse sitting there along with Roisin and Declan. Her eyes are wide and filled with a little fear when our gazes lock. I had no fucking idea she was going to be here tonight.
I’m not sure if I should strut around like a fucking peacock or go over there, throw her over my shoulder, and take her into the back room so I can spank her ass. What the fuck does she think she’s doing here?
The dress code for Emerald is clear and the women who make it down to the fights aren’t the exception to the rules. I know I’ve never seen the gorgeous navy dress my woman has on, but even with her sitting I can tell that it hugs all her curves just fucking right. Then there’s the slit that goes way too far up considering it’s exposing her crossed legs.
Far too much of her skin is on display and my fists clench at my sides causing the tape wrapped around them to strain. My ears are fucking ringing with seeing my woman out in the crowd. I’m shocked as hell her brother would allow her to be here tonight.
I force myself to look at Declan to find him scowling at me. I swear something like knowing flashes in his eyes. He gives one curt shake of his head that, for the first time in the ten years I’ve known the man, I don’t know how to interpret.
Roisin is beaming while looking between Saoirse and me. I wish I could be mad at her because I bet that she’s the one who mentioned the fight. If both his woman and his sister ganged up on Declan to convince Saoirse to come with them, he never stood a damn chance.
I force myself into my corner when my opponent comes sauntering into the ring like he’s not going to stumble out of it soon, while bleeding. The ringing in my ears only gets louder and it’s difficult as fuck to not focus on Saoirse. Men are looking at her; she’s too beautiful to not get some attention.
They probably won’t approach her considering she’s sitting with Declan, but that is hardly a comfort.
The moment the bell rings, all I can think about is Saoirse and muscle memory takes over. The fight is a blur as I throw punches, channeling my frustration because men are looking at what’s mine. I have no doubt they’re thinking about those legs of hers wrapped around their waist as they plow into her. They’ll never have a fucking chance with her.
I hit my opponent with a combo which has him stumbling back, but I’m not done, not nearly done. I step right into his personal space and batter his midsection before throwing an uppercut right to his jaw. I swear the fucker spins once before thundering to the ground like a damn redwood.
I blink down at him, my chest heaving and the buzzing in my head making it hard to concentrate.
They’re looking at her.
I can’t have them looking at my woman.
I’m through the ropes and jumping down to the floor before the ref can even declare me the winner. I’m sweating and my chest is heaving as I step right into the VIP area, grip Saoirse’s hips and pull her over my shoulder.
“Conor,” she gasps, her fingers digging into my lower back, “what the hell are you doing?”
I make sure to keep my hand right underneath her ass to support her as Declan stands and barks, “Conor.”
Roisin covers her mouth with her hand, but I can still hear her muffled, “I knew it!”
Declan turns his eyes to her, his expression incredulous as hell as he snarls, “Not helping.”
I don’t need to hear anything else. I turn on my heel and stride through the crowd like I didn’t just throw the McCarthy mob princess over my shoulder like I fucking own her. Because I do own her.
Men who were leering at her just moments ago, thinking of how they could entice her to bed, are now staring at me like I’m the one who has lost my mind. Maybe I have, but it’s all Saoirse’s fault. All her fucking fault.
I was once a sane man, one who wouldn’t have chosen a woman over anything or anyone else. Now look at me.
