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Ty
No-freakin-way! Ty looked around, stunned stupid like everyone else. Well everyone appeared astonished except Quick. Kell really was the truth. He was a master. He’d stayed composed the whole time Jake was giving him crap, as if he wasn’t a threat, until that horny idiot had made one error that had him face down on the mat and humiliated before he could blink. Ty noted that Kell didn’t like anyone touching him without his permission. It seemed as if he didn’t like to be flirted and toyed with, either. His partner obviously wasn’t going to take Jake up on his offer of drinks. Ty didn’t know if Kell was gay or not, he wouldn’t assume because of his beauty.
Beauty?
Ty cast those puzzling thoughts to the side and put his full attention back on the next round. Jake got up and checked his lip for blood, which Ty thought was amusing, since the man had only been hit in the chest and back. The idiot was already confused.
Jake made the mistake of attempting the same takedown maneuver. Going for Kell’s body. If the man could get his hands around Kell he might get somewhere. But, as soon as Jake went down to ram his shoulder into Kell’s midsection, Kell rotated again, using Jake’s own forward movement to sweep his feet from under him. He hit the mat with a loud thud, arching his back as if it stung where he’d impacted. The men standing around gasped and cursed again. Kell wasn’t breathing heavily, not even a fine sheen of perspiration on his face. While the other men cheered and clapped, some came over and slapped Quick on his back for a job damn-well-done.
“I guess I’m not concerned about him getting hurt anymore. He can handle himself very well. Never took Jake’s bait, either,” Duke said, shaking his head, still watching Kell on the mat as he effortlessly avoided Jake’s tired attempts to get his grubby arms around him. Duke elbowed his partner beside him. “Damn, he’s lightning-quick. I think you’ve lost the rights to your name, Grandmaster.”
“That kid is badass, Rome, for real,” Brian added. “He ain’t even flinching at an almost three-hundred-pound man rushing at him. He’s fuckin’ fearless, man.”
“No. He does fear.” Quick said solemnly. “Just not on the mat.”
Ty would save that tidbit he’d overheard for another day. For now, he was so beyond impressed with his new partner that his insides danced with excitement and intrigue. Kell was amazing, his moves so fluid and calculated. Ty loved that. Loved how he could call on any one of his styles that he’d mastered to suit whatever situation he was in. Ty even liked how Kell’s hood stayed in place the entire time, as if it was custom made for him. Kell wouldn’t give Jake the satisfaction of feasting his beady eyes on all Kell had to offer. Ty held his head higher because he knew what was hidden there.
“All right. Enough playing around. I been too easy on you, little one.” Jake grimaced, putting his fists up again. Ty realized that Jake knew no style. He was a ’squabbler. A wrestler. Liked to get his hands around a man and tussle him down, using his size. He couldn’t do that with Kell. He was too damn fast to catch. So what did Jake-the-snake do when he was met with an opponent who was smaller, faster and smarter than him? He pretended like he was allowing all this to happen.
I’ll call him the ‘great pretender’.
“Jake. For shit’s sake stop going for his middle. You won’t get him that way.” Quick tried to help Jake out.
“Did I ask for your goddamn assistance, Quick? I got it!” Jake growled in annoyance, causing another round of laughter and ribbing from the fellas standing around. “I’m not afraid of you, and I’m damn sure not afraid of this “master” you brought to my gym.” Jake used air quotes when he said master.
He frustratingly stood one more time and locked his fist in front of his face. Jake’s brows were drawn down, his upper lip slightly raised in the left corner, and an unsettling tightness in his scowl. He looked determined to land at least one hit. This time around, Jake didn’t lunge, he stayed upright, moving around Kell in a boxer’s circle. Ty swallowed a lump of nerves when ‘the pretender’ swung a meaty fist toward Kell’s cheek. The way Kell reared backward, making Jake hit nothing but air was beautiful. He kept making him swing and miss, never engaging as if he was toying with him. When Jake had been spun in so many different ways by Kell’s swift direction changes that he tripped over his own foot, Duke called out ‘enough’. Jake was a hot mess of fury. Having not laid his hands on Kell even once.
