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“I don’t know…”
Emmy picked up on Fianna’s hang up. “Brennan said there’s some big fight tonight...”
She didn’t say if Ronan was fighting, but Fianna could read between the lines. At least Ronan wouldn’t be at the Velvet Club.
After that horrible speed date, she figured the night could only improve from here on out. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
2
Ronan
Ronan followed his brother Duncan to the makeshift cage in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. A sheen of sweat covered Ronan’s body after sparring with Duncan to prepare for his fight.
“Almost time, bro,” Duncan said over the shouting crowd.
Ronan peered through the chain-link fence. One fighter struggled to get up from the concrete floor in the cage. The other fighter showed no mercy as he jumped him and rammed his fists repeatedly against the already bloody, beaten torso of his opponent.
With this fight almost over, Ronan’s heart rate picked up. Duncan slapped Ronan’s back. “You’ve got this.”
As a former MMA fighter himself, Duncan understood Ronan’s state of mind. Even though Ronan wanted to fight, there was always that one fleeting moment of realization about the danger he deliberately put himself in.
“Yeah. I’ve got this.”
Ronan wasn’t being cocky. He wouldn’t lose tonight. When they told him Gazza would be his opponent, Ronan already knew his tactical game plan.
Sure, he wouldn’t underestimate the guy, but he had seen Gazza fight before. Gazza had a hard on for going in for the chokehold. Ronan heard that the sick bastard even liked to choke his women in bed.
The roaring crowd brought Ronan’s attention to the winner of the fight. Ronan understood the guy’s need to jump the chain-link fence in victory.
“It’s time!” Duncan held out both fists for Ronan to bump his wrapped knuckles against. When they connected, it hit home for Ronan that the twenty-first century gladiator arena demanded his full attention because otherwise, this fight could be his last fight ever.
The Iron Vikings MC, one of the most notorious motorcycle clubs in Texas, hosted this underground fight club. Ronan had seen enough over the past years during these fight nights. He didn’t want to end up in a wheelchair or get his brain scrambled.
His entire body amped up with so much stress that his mind cut through the noise of the crowd and found a dead calm.
With his mind fully focused on survival, fighting freed him from thoughts of her.
In a sick way, thinking about Fianna Ryan was more destructive than getting his head bashed in by some criminal, like Gazza.
At least he saw the hits of his opponent coming. He could dodge them or fight them off. But the memory of Fianna lying in his bed, kissing his neck, pained him more than a sudden punch in the gut.
Ronan rubbed his chest. Flashbacks of Fianna linking their hands on the dirt road on his cousin’s farm actually pained his heart.
After all those years apart, he still ached for her. It didn’t matter how much he drank to forget. Fucking an endless row of groupies didn’t work, either.
Thinking about Fianna killed him from the inside out. He couldn’t stop the memories crawling into his head, chipping away his sanity.
“Are you ready?”
Ronan nodded at his brother.
This warehouse was the one and only place for the unwanted ones tonight. He felt at home in this fucked up environment without rules.
Forget about referee decisions or rounds. It was all about being the meanest, toughest, and strongest fighter.
Nobody cared for padded boxing gloves. Or for a fighting mat to soften a blow to his back or to offer a grip.
In this underground scene, all that mattered for the crowd here or behind the live streams at home was the animalistic thrill of two fighting machines going all in with pure and brutal force.
