Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(85)

Now, though, Meyers had him on the mat in a chokehold, and though he was able to defend enough to breathe, Mike knew at any moment, with one wrong move, he could be choked unconscious. He breathed as best he could around Meyers’s restraining forearm, taking the opportunity to rest and still remain on guard while anticipating any and every move Meyers might make next.

The crowd was irrelevant; they’d faded into nothing a long time ago. Same as when he was a kid; he’d never given a f*ck who was watching and shouting, who was rooting for whom. He’d eaten his share of dirt, grass, or asphalt while the other guy’s friends cheered—it didn’t bother him any. Now it was simply on a far bigger scope.

Slowly, he began to fight his way out. A series of elbow jabs, shifting his hips, pushing the mat with his feet, and suddenly Meyers’s arm loosened and Mike sprang to his feet. Thanks for the rest, asswipe. Now eat this. He greeted Meyers’s vagus nerve with a swift kick, all his accumulated power behind it, staggering his opponent. Then he speared him right back to the ground. Meyers, disoriented, threw a left from underneath. Thank you. Mike caught it, pinning the arm between his left shoulder and Meyers’s head. As soon as he had the triangle set up, he scrambled off to his right, putting pressure on the carotid artery, cutting off air.

Good night, motherf*cker.

Frank wasn’t letting that belt go so easily, though. Mike didn’t get the satisfaction of Meyers tapping. The ref jumped in and ended it just as Frank’s body began to slacken as unconsciousness set in.

He’d won.



Savannah almost couldn’t comprehend what was happening until Damien was on his feet yelling and pulling her up with him.

What? It was over?

Mike rolled off Meyers, who moved about in a daze. Mike came to his knees in the middle of the blood-smeared floor while a roar went up from the crowd, then fell over to his hands, his back heaving with his panting breath. Blood still dripped from his cut. He was the only thing Savannah could see as Damien grabbed her arm and they tore their way through the jostling bodies to the cage, where Zane met them and propelled Savannah forward.

Mike’s team was already in there, hoisting him up to his feet again, pure jubilation on all their faces. An older man, presumably his coach, grabbed both sides of his head and then yanked him into a fierce hug. With Zane and Damien hustling her along, she climbed the steps at a run and dashed toward him.

Over his coach’s shoulder, his eyes met hers.

Please want me, please . . .

“Savannah?” She couldn’t hear the sound of her name from his lips in the tumult around them, but she saw it. He slipped past his coach, walking toward her, no one else in the entire building, in the entire world, but the two of them. Going to his knees in front of her, he wrapped both arms around her waist and rested his weary head against her stomach, where she cradled him gently and dropped kisses and tears on his short hair. “Oh God, baby,” he groaned, and somehow she heard him. “Oh my God. You’re here. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I saw the eagle again!” she exclaimed. “Tommy’s eagle. I knew he was telling me to get my ass here, Michael, I just knew it, and—That was amazing!”

He cut her off by surging up and, with a bone-crushing hug, lifted her feet off the floor, his mingled sweat and blood smearing across her clothes, but she gave not one single damn. It could mingle with her tears too. Whether it was adrenaline still pumping or exhaustion or emotion, he was shaking against her.

Damien slapped him on the back, though, and she only reluctantly let him turn to look at his brother. “You realize you came into this as the underdog, right?” Damien said.

“So?”

“So you made me a nice chunk of change tonight, big brother. Thanks.”

Mike laughed. “Thanks for betting on me, at least.”

“Always.” With a grin and a wink at Savannah, he left them to their celebration.

Frank Meyers had collected himself off the mat and ambled over grim faced for a grudging handshake. Mike lowered Savannah to the floor and graciously accepted. Then the former champion backed away to let his team examine his wounds.

“We gotta look at that cut, Mike,” Jon said, and though Savannah wanted to pout over being deprived of his arms around her again, she knew he needed to get cleaned up. She only realized then how much she was still shaking herself. She also only realized exactly how massive this crowd was when she looked around at it from the middle. Wow.

Here she was, surrounded by twenty thousand strangers and millions watching at home. She’d been in the arms of the man the world thought she should hate. But she loved him. Oh, God, how she loved him right then.

It was his arm that was lifted by the referee when his name was called as the new undisputed heavyweight champion, his waist the belt went around, his face that was a reflection of the victory, emotion, and absolute rapture he must have felt right then. Frank even brought him in for a hug afterward, shaking hands with Jon as well. Savannah tried to stay back and let Mike have his moment of glory, but when he was approached for the postfight interview, he reached an arm out to her. She went timidly to his side. The question was coming; they both knew it. That he wanted her by his side when he had to answer it brought a fresh wash of tears down her cheeks. But first he was asked about his expectations, his training, his strategy. Then it was time.

“Mike, there were a lot of words exchanged between you and Frank about Tommy Dugas. How did that affect you coming into the fight?”