The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2)(33)

God, she wanted him to win.

She wanted a permanent reason for Chuito to stay in Garnet. To protect his family and stay here, because she knew if he lost, he was going to go back.

He had been wavering over it for months.

He’d gone back to Miami four times since Marcos was paroled, and every time he came back, he looked a little wearier, a little more concerned, and his nightmares would get worse and worse.

Alaine knew because she woke him up from them.

Their bedroom walls were connected.

When she heard them, she went to him with the key he had handed back to her. Always waking him up carefully, soft and gentle in a way he had come to recognize.

Then he would lie next to her in bed and confess his fears.

That he wasn’t good enough.

That he didn’t deserve all this fame and fortune that had shown up without him really expecting it.

That he would lose another family member to a war that raged across the country in Miami, and he would be here when it happened.

Let him win.

Give him enough money that his cousin would accept the handouts when Chuito offered. Alaine didn’t care if Chuito was rich; she just cared that it was enough of a reason for him to stay here in their little hidden place together.

“Introducing first, fighting out the blue corner, with black belts in tae kwon do and karate. He holds a professional record of twenty-one wins and three losses. Standing at five feet eleven inches and weighing in at one hundred ninety-nine pounds. Current Light-Heavyweight champion fighting out of Liverpool, England. William Evans!”

Alaine stared at Chuito’s competitor, a man who, like Wyatt, looked a little too clean-cut to be a UFC fighter, with intense blue eyes and cropped blond hair. William Evans turned around and held his fist up at the crowd like he deserved their admiration.

She didn’t even know William Evans, but a part of her hated him simply for being in the cage with Chuito. He was someone who could destroy Alaine’s future with his black belts and extensive fighting experience, because somewhere along the way, she had fallen deeply in love with Chuito.

If all it took to have Chuito stay here was for this fella to fall off his high horse…Alaine was all for it.

“Out of the red corner. This man is a mixed martial artist with a professional record of nine wins and zero losses. He stands at six feet two inches tall and weighing in at two hundred and three pounds. From Puerto Rico, fighting out of Garnet, Kentucky.” The announcer took a deep breath and shouted, “Jesus Garcia!”

Chuito’s eyes were closed during his introduction, but once the announcer was done, he crossed himself, making it obvious he had been praying. He bumped his fist against the cross tattoo on his chest and held it up as if silently asking for his brother and aunt to help him.

God, Alaine hoped they were watching!

At the referee’s urging, Chuito and the other fighter bumped fists in the center of the cage and then backed up to their corners. The two of them looked so mismatched, a clean-cut British man against Chuito, with his tattoos and dangerous glare across the cage.

Alaine held her breath, waiting for it to start.

Once it did, the commentators immediately homed in on Chuito.

“The southpaw, twenty-two-year-old Garcia in the black shorts,” one said just as Chuito stepped forward and swung for Evans. It didn’t look like Chuito hit him hard, but the announcers shouted anyway. “Oh! Right hook! You saw him warming up earlier with Clay Powers, UFC Heavyweight champion. He was fighting southpaw, but Garcia is clearly using an orthodox stance here.”

“Evans has been training to fight a southpaw,” the other announcer added. “This is significant. This is very much something out of the Cellar camp where Garcia trains. One of their strengths is strategy. They’ve clearly been working on this. Oh! Evans goes for the takedown!” Alaine still wasn’t breathing as she watched Chuito fight his way out of the other man’s hold and back up. “Garcia breaks out!”

“Garcia is not a strong ground fighter, but we’ve been seeing a heavy improvement in his ground game this past year. Evans is very quick, great footwork. Evans with the leg kick.”

Alaine covered her face, peeking through her fingers, when Chuito got kicked a second time.

“Evans with another high kick. Evans truly is one of the greatest athletes to ever be in the octagon. Garcia is a new fighter. He’s going to have a hard time competing with someone like Evans, whose skill set really is much more well-rounded. Ow! A left kick from Evans caught Garcia inadvertently! Sometimes those will slide up and get you in the groin.”

Alaine winced, thinking that was a very polite way to say this horrible man had just kicked Chuito in the balls. She covered her face again as the other fighter backed up, and the ref held out his hand, giving Chuito time to recover when he ended up on the mat.

She thought he recovered fast, and the announcers agreed.

“Garcia is a very intense fighter. We don’t see a lot of emotion from him. He’s very focused, and he wants this title. We saw in the locker room. This is very important to him.”

Those stupid announcers had no idea.

“He’s determined. We don’t see a lot of sportsmanship out of Garcia. You don’t see him reaching out to other fighters. No pats on the back. They call him the Slayer for a reason. Great jab from Garcia!” the announcer went on once the fight started again. “He is a fantastic striker. His strength is in his strikes, but Evans knows that. We see him constantly hopping out of Garcia’s reach, not letting him use those extra inches to his advantage. Another left kick from Evans. Keeping a good distance, not giving Garcia the opportunity to use that powerful left hook.”