Legend (Real, #6)(37)

“Do you want the headgear now?”

I lunge and start hitting, and he blocks, deflects, blocks. “Fuck you,” I grit out.

“Getting angry doesn’t help. You control the anger, not let it control you.”

I want to prove him wrong, I loop out my arm and aim for his head.

He ducks and hooks, his knuckles cracking into my jaw. I spurt blood and bounce against the ropes.

I shake my head, wipe the blood away, grit my teeth, and straighten, narrowing my eyes. “My turn,” I growl, and I swing. My fist connects: a kidney punch.

He blocks my next hit, frowning in thought. “You’re cocky for someone who just lost yesterday.”

He jabs.

I dive my upper body to the side, evading. “You got to play it to become it.”

“I’m the champion, not you.”

“You won’t live forever, champ.”

He jabs three times, then leaps back, flexes his arm, and looks at it.

“Muscle memory. You hit enough times, you fight on instinct; part of your brain works on your assault, the other is focused on the other’s assault. Let your muscle memory work for you and consciously stay focused on your opponent’s eyes.”

I laugh mockingly. “I don’t need your pointers.”

“Go back home to daddy, then.”

“When I’m finished with you.” I punch him, then raise my left hook and connect hard enough to stun him.

He raises his head, shakes it to clear it, and wipes blood from his nose. I catch my breath, satisfied I got some blood. At least I won’t be the only one with an ice pack tonight.

He sees the blood on his arm and looks at me, impressed.

“TIME!” his coach yells out from the corner. “You two won’t have shit for the fight if you keep up this nonsense.”

Tate grins at him, then turns back and glowers at me. “You get enough?”

“Barely warming up here.” I squint the blood out of one eye and raise my gloves. “Come get it, Riptide,” I growl.

We go at it for three hours. His team is pissed with him. We end up bloodied and losing pounds of water from sweat. His team comes over with electrolyte drinks, and he tosses one my way with the crook of his arm.

“Same time, a day before the Atlanta fight. You have a lot to learn.” He yanks off his gloves.

I say nothing. Out of pride, I shoot him a f*ck-you look. But I know I’ll be there.

? ? ?

I’M PROSTRATE ON the bed, ice packs wrapped all around my body. I don’t get this guy. I don’t get him at all. I’m being set up. I have to be. I wonder if Reese is in on it. If she’s meant to be my distraction.

Fuck, she is.

I groan and take out my phone. I want to text her, but I don’t have her number. I want to text somebody who gives a shit. My mom? No way. I text Oz.

You alive?

I am.

Where the f*ck are you?

I want her to come over.

Can’t get what you want, *, that mean little voice tells me.

I glance at the pail of ice water on the floor by the bed, toss my phone aside, and shove my knuckles back into the ice. Then I lift my eyes to my father’s gloves, letting my anger fuel me.





TWENTY-ONE


THE AVENGER IS CLOSE


Reese

I haven’t seen him since that night. I didn’t go to the gym in Denver again, coward that I am. I’ve been stressing over the possibility of Remy finding out and deciding not to train with Maverick ever again. I’ve been battling the urge to seek out Maverick against feelings of betrayal to the Tates, to Miles, the logical but painstaking truth that our friendship is more than a friendship but probably won’t go anywhere.

Now we’re in Dallas, five days after I gave him my V card. I’m trying to focus on the fact that Miles texted to let me know he, Gabe, and Avery are coming to the semifinals. But the Avenger is causing a stir.

I heard the team discussing how he knocked out a few difficult opponents and ended up one away from fighting Remy again on the last fight. It’s like he’s a legend simply by trying to avenge the Scorpion alone. He’s a contender. He’s getting respect, admiration, and a lot of fear.

I couldn’t bear to listen.

The thought of Maverick fighting Remy, who’s part of my family, is starting to be painful. So instead, as the team talked, I focused on Racer’s trains, the perfect therapy if you ask me.

I’m at a Dallas gym. Today my conversation with myself has been focusing on how great it is that he’s not here so I can actually feel calm as I exercise and also stay focused on supporting Team Remy. I’m glad when I head over to day care, ready to clear my mind with some good old Racer fun, when I get a text from Brooke.

Take the day R and I are taking Racer to the zoo

You sure?

Yes, picking him up right now

OK HAVE FUN!

Ending up standing in the middle of the sidewalk halfway to the day care, I suddenly don’t know what to do with the rest of my day.

For some reason I find myself traveling the exact same path I came from. I push open the gym doors, greet the receptionist, and am aware of my heart starting to flip-flop in my chest as I slip inside. I pass the treadmills, bicycles, the weight section, heading toward the mats at the end and the boxing bags. I scan the area where I’d find him. There are several guys at the bags now. None of them are as big, or mysterious. Or hot.