Released (Caged #3)(68)

“Liam!” Al called back. “Perfect timing! I want you to meet someone!”

I circled the ring to find a guy sitting in one of the referee’s chairs on the far side.

“Liam, this is Graham,” Al said. The dude stood up and shook my hand. “Graham does a lot of MMA stuff. I thought the two of you would get along well, and maybe I wouldn’t go home with so many bruises.”

He gave me a wry smile, and I shrugged an apology.

“Hey, Liam,” Graham said. He was a decent sized guy—right around two hundred pounds and maybe an inch or two shorter than me, so he looked a bit stockier. Dark, cropped hair and bright eyes gave him that rugged look readers find in sportsman’s magazines. “What’s your preference?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Girls,” I said, and Graham laughed.

“I told you he was an *,” Al said as he walked away.

“How about a fighting preference?”

“No gloves is what I’m used to,” I said. “I do a mix of Muay Thai and Aikido, mostly.”

“Awesome! Let’s shake it up!”

Al helped me get my hands taped, and I climbed through the ropes to meet Graham in the middle of the ring. I bounced up and down on my toes and squeezed my hands into fists a few times to get the feel back. It had been a long time since I did this—no gloves, unknown opponent.

We circled slowly, both of us watching the other intently and not feeling too rushed to get into the battle. I figured he was going to wait for me to make the first move anyway, so I went for him.

He was quick.

He dodged, grabbed both my shoulders, and kneed me in the side.

With a grunt, I turned back, got my balance, and punched out twice. He backed up, his eyes widening in surprise. Bare-handed fighters rarely punched outright—you were as likely to hurt your hands as someone else’s face, but I was used to it. I’d cracked my fingers so often, it was a wonder they didn’t just fall right off my hands.

I followed after him with a jump, and came down with my knee to his chest. He grabbed my leg, flipped me over, and we both went down on the mat. I could hear people yelling—we must have gathered a little bit of a crowd—but I didn’t pay much attention to it.

I was focused.

My vision sharpened.

I was in my element.

Spinning around, I flung my elbow into his chin, which slammed the back of his head into the mat. He rolled enough to get away, and kicked out with both feet as I came at him again. I felt the ropes dig into my back as I flew backwards, bounced off of them, and then went back to my opponent.

Back and forth.

He’d kick; I’d punch.

Hitting him with a quick succession of jabs from my foot into his stomach, I finally got the upper hand when his diaphragm had a spasm, and he couldn’t catch his breath. A moment later I was behind him with my arm around his throat, pressing against the side of his neck.

His hand slammed the mat three times, and I released him.

“Holy shit,” he muttered. “You have a hell of a hit.”

Al laughed from the side of the ring as he tossed us both bottles of water. I popped the lid off one of them before helping Graham back to his feet.

“All good?” I asked.

“Very,” he replied. “I’m gonna be sore tomorrow, though!”

Laughing, I climbed through the ropes and dropped to the floor, and Graham followed.

“You really are good,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” I said. “It’s been a while—I think I’m a little out of shape.”

Graham turned back to Al and the two started talking as I gathered up my stuff.

“Good to see you haven’t lost your touch.”

The voice startled me, not because I didn’t realize there was someone behind me—I had heard the footsteps as I was talking to Graham—but because I recognized the voice.

“What the f*ck are you doing here?” I snapped.

“Checking up on you,” Yolanda replied.

“Bullshit,” I growled back. “You’re done with me, remember? Besides, my parents aren’t paying you anymore.”

Yolanda took a half step back. She actually had the decency to look embarrassed, but it didn’t really matter.

“That wasn’t…” She paused, took a long breath, and then looked me in the eye. “That wasn’t the reason, you know.”

“Oh, really?” I replied with a full head of sarcasm. “I don’t know—you took a cut of my pay, and you were getting paid off to keep tabs on me. What exactly was the reason then?”

Yolanda walked over to the bench and dropped down heavily. She rested her forehead in her hands as she bent over her knees.

“I did,” she admitted. “But that’s not the reason I took you in. You were already living with me when your father came up and offered the money to me.”

My instinctive reaction was to tell her to f*ck off and walk away. I wanted to more than just about anything, but a lot of shit Erin said about making my life easier by actually listening to people kept floating around in my head. So, instead of calling bullshit again, I folded my arms across my chest and just watched and waited.

Yolanda eyed me warily for a moment and then went on.