I Dare You (The Hook Up #1)(37)

Kai is standing over me and delivers a kick straight to my ribcage.

I choke out a gasp and focus. Fuck. I’m drifting, my mind wandering because I’ve been hit one too many times.

I scramble up and dart away from Kai’s massive legs to rest against the ropes. He approaches with his gloves up, his mouthpiece filled with saliva mixed with blood. I’ve gotten in a couple of good hits to his wide face, but it’s like banging my hand against concrete.

His fist connects with my hip and I stumble back again.

Ryker is yelling at me from the sidelines, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. The crowd cheers and shakes their fists, some for me and some for Kai. Loud rock music blares from the speakers, and all the lights are out except for the spotlight that’s narrowed in on the ring.

Panting through the mouthpiece, I bounce around on the ropes, moving away from Kai. God dammit. I need a fucking minute to get myself together.

Raven.

Pineview.

Fifty thousand dollars.

I shake myself off and roll my neck, barely pausing before I rush at him, my first strike clipping his shoulder, not the chest like I wanted, but the hit has enough force that he stumbles a bit. He barrels back at me, his legs maneuvering a roundhouse kick that plants right into my side.

He bounces away. “Second-degree black belt, asshole. Anything goes in this fight—didn’t you know that?”

I narrow my good eye at him, my fists curling. “Mississippi boys learn how to fight for real in their fucking sleep. Karate isn’t going to help you.”

I wipe sweat out of my eyes, square off again, and eye him, looking for chinks in his armor. He’s proficient in MMA, but boxing is where my strengths lie, and that’s what I focus on.

Bobbing around him, my fists are up as I dart sideways, moving in and out, teasing him then popping just out of reach. I land a small right uppercut to his jaw, and he comes right back at me with a quick two-handed jab. I block it with my forearms and retaliate with an uppercut to his gut.

Whoosh. He grunts and bends over to catch his breath but pops right back up.

He maneuvers behind me, and this time I’m ready before he kicks, managing to block him with a punch to his thigh.

He growls out a curse and backs up, a slight limp to his normal swagger, and my fist aches inside the glove—it was a good solid blow.

He shifts around, eyeing me. He thinks I should be down by now.

I force a grin, knowing I probably look maniacal.

He comes at me again, his swipe a hair too wide, and I duck. He breathes heavily as he chases after me.

“Stop playing and take him down!” one of the men from Kai’s corner calls out.

“Go back to Ole Miss!” Ryker yells back.

Kai runs at me head down, in football mode, and I anchor myself, waiting. He gets a second from knocking me on my ass, I sidestep like a good boxer, and he misses completely, lurching into the ropes.

I rush at him, landing a punch to his lower back.

Score.

Using my shoulder, I pop him in the chest and send him reeling.

Stay down, asshole, my face is telling him.

But he gets back up, his eyes glazed.

“You done?” I pant.

“Pussy,” he calls at me as he slings blood out of his face.

“Your funeral,” I say and raise my fists up.

My words spur him into action and he rushes at me again. He lands a strike to my spleen, and I thrash away to get my breath back. Fuck.

“Killer! Killer! Killer!” some of the Ole Miss fans chant.

It’s like he brought his own cheering section.

I spare a glance at Ryker, and he screams out that there’s a minute left in the round.

I’m not sure I can last sixty more seconds without a breather.

Kai advances again, on the offense, and I skirt around him, my feet skipping on purpose. If I can’t take him down, maybe I can distract him. I make my way over to the crowd of people who’ve congregated in Kai’s corner, cross my left arm into my inner right elbow, and pull it up—the universal sign for fuck you. The crowd roars its approval while Kai’s fans shake their fists at me. I prance off, forcing my body to move like it isn’t screaming in pain.

He runs at me, more sluggish than before, and I square off and wait. I suspect he’s going to throw more fancy karate moves at me, and he does, his legs kicking at me as his fist aims for my face. I turn my body sideways and he misses, the inertia of his movement making him stumble. Before he recovers, I hit him in the head and he pops back with a dazed expression.

Down he goes like a rock off the side of a cliff.

“Hell yeah!” Ryker screams from the side, and I look around for Leslie, who motions for the ref standing off to the side. He jumps in and checks on Kai, who hasn’t even twitched. His chest is rising and falling so at least I know he’s breathing—I don’t want anything serious to be wrong with him.

“Winner!” the ref yells as he holds up my hand.

I take a walk around the ring, eyeing the people in the audience. Some are cheering—thank you, fellow Waylon fans—while some are surly and sneer at me. Whatever.

It’s fucking over.





Delaney



Mav-Man: I miss you.

Me: Me too. Will I see you today?

Mav-Man: No. I’ll see you soon, Buttercup. Just…be patient and wait for me.