Caged (Mastered, #4)(56)
Surprisingly, Fisher was the first guy to reach him. Deacon removed the mitts and his headgear and said softly, “He doesn’t hit as hard as you, so why am I on my ass?”
Fisher didn’t crack a smile. “Because your equilibrium is off due to the head protection. You don’t wear it in the ring, so it’s stupid for you to train with it.” He leaned closer. “And don’t get me started on why the f*ck you’re wearing mitts and being his bitch. Should be the other way around.”
One thing Deacon respected about Fisher—the man was loyal to the Black Arts fighters. Even their dustup about Molly taking private lessons from him hadn’t damaged their professional working relationship.
Deacon moved his head side to side, trying to work the tension out of his neck. He saw Maddox advising Courey. He saw Ivan and Sergei on the bench. He saw Ronin off to the side, keeping an eye on everyone. Blue had disappeared.
Then Maddox wandered over and crouched next to him. “If you’ve caught your balance, get back to it. Courey’s turn with the mitts.”
He wasn’t feeling real cooperative, but he forced a cool tone. “Another day.”
“Why? You’ve taken hits harder than that.”
“No shit. But I wasn’t expecting to get knocked on my ass first thing this morning after being gone from training for six days. I’ve still got Saturday drills to do. Ito’s coming to work throws with me, right?” He paused. “Unless you were planning on having Ito working with Courey. In that case I’ll do footwork with Fisher, Sergei, and Ivan.”
If the sour look on Maddox’s face was any indication, he knew he was f*cked. Deacon had covered all his training possibilities for the day—none would be with Courey. “I get that you’re pissed off he’s here, Deacon, but you’re supposed to be learning from him.”
“Maybe he’d better learn what Sensei means by prefight power level.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Ronin walk away.
“I’ll give you a pass today, but Courey will be training here off and on over the next few weeks, so get used to the idea you’ll be partners.”
Fuck that. Maddox could force him to do a lot of things, but being a punching bag for Micah Courey wasn’t on the list.
Before Maddox could force the issue, Ivan and Sergei climbed into the ring and stepped between Deacon and their trainer. Maddox took off. Ivan held out his big hand to help Deacon to his feet.
“Thanks, man.”
“No problem. You ready to play footsie?”
Deacon snorted. Footsie. Ivan poked at Sergei for his expertise in savate, French foot fighting. Sergei, whose English was minimal, trash-talked Ivan’s specialty in sambo, the Russian martial art that was a weird combination of wrestling and judo.
One thing Maddox could be given props for—all of the fighters he’d brought on board had different specialties. “Yeah, I’ll see what punch-kick or kick-punch combos Sergei has been working on to trip me up.”
“Trip you up. Funny.” Ivan translated for Sergei, and he barked out a laugh.
“Hey, where’s Blaze?”
“Pulled his calf muscle. Same day you left. Riggins told him to rest it for a week minimum,” Fisher said. “He’ll be hobbling around for Beck’s thing tonight.”
“Beck’s thing?” Deacon asked.
Ivan shot a quick look over his shoulder. “Birthday thing. Not everyone is invited.”
“Aw, but I am?”
Fisher clapped him on the shoulder. “At a strip club. Right up your alley, huh?”
Fuck. It would be, if he hadn’t promised Molly he’d steer clear of them.
Sergei frowned and spoke to Ivan. The big Russian shook his head. Deacon made out three words—Dave & Buster’s.
While Ivan and Sergei went back and forth, Deacon watched Maddox and Courey confer with Ito, who’d just walked into the training room.
Ivan pinned Fisher with a hard look. “We’re going to that game-playing place first, right?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Sergei’s girlfriend forbids him to go to strip clubs.”
“And he lets her dictate that to him?” Fisher said. “Lame.”
Two weeks ago Deacon would’ve been railing against that too. But now . . . he wouldn’t break his promise to Molly even to save face with the guys.
“Like Sergei said, he’d rather not piss off his girlfriend and get cut off from * just to look at some random stripper’s tits.”
That gave him an out. “That’ll work for me too. I’ll hang at Dave and Buster’s, but then I’ve got plans with Molly.”
Fisher sighed. “Didn’t you just spend an entire week with her?”
“Because her grandma died. A funeral ain’t exactly fun.”
“Guess it’s up to me’n Blaze to get Beck his birthday lap dance,” Fisher said.
“If you guys go to Jiggles, I’ll give you my VIP pass,” Deacon offered.
His eyes lit up. “No shit? You da man, bro.” He held his fist out for a bump.
Ivan thrust his fist at Fisher and Deacon for a bump. “No woman tells Ivan what to do. I’m in.”
Sergei snickered and said something in Russian that caused Ivan to gut punch him.