One Last Fight (Part 1) (Fighter Romance) (Dark Desires) by Morgan Black

ONE
    JORDAN
    “Jordan, you’re up!”
    I looked down at my bloodied hands and wrapped them tighter with the fabric that was once white. I’d busted through at least three knuckles on my left hand and one on my right. I couldn’t understand why they had wanted me to fight again. I’d already been in the ring today. I didn’t need any more practice.
    “Leo, I’m good. I don’t want to bust on my shoulder again before the fight tonight.”
    Leo put his calloused hands on either of my bare shoulders. His thumb just brushed against my newest tattoo, a quote about fighting. It was all about freedom , that’s what it said. And to me, that’s exactly what getting torn up in the ring was about. “You need all the practice you can get, kid. The guy that you’re going up against tomorrow night, we don’t know much about him. All that I know is that he’s got some underground experience, and you know how those fuckers play. He’ll go right for your face. And by the time you realize what happened, you’ll be flat on your back and he’ll have won all our money.”
    I shook my head. “You know I won’t let that happen. Besides those Mexican gangbanger fighters, they’ve got nothing on us real pros. I know what I’m doing and I rank better than anybody else you have in this gym. And when I say I’ve had enough, I’ve had enough.”
    Leo pulled his hands off me and put them up in surrender. He might’ve been three times my age, but the old man did know what he was talking about. He had been a boxer first and then learned MMA. He had been my coach my entire life. But he also knew that I wasn’t just some little kid anymore. I was starting to get interest from sponsors and other investors. If I didn’t want to fight today because I knew it wouldn’t make me ready for tomorrow, then I wasn’t going to do it. After my shoulder injury two years ago I thought it was going to be completely done with fighting. But it was my passion, my life. I had done enough rehabilitation for five guys just to get myself back in the ring. And finally after another two years, I was in the prime of my fighting career. There was no way I was going to let some gangbanger fighter beat the hell out of me on my turf.
    “Fine. But I want you hitting the bag for at least another hour. And then definitely take some time to do some stretching this evening. Your kick’s a little weak. Especially your left.”
    I nodded and walked away. I made a stop at the locker room to grab my water and stretch out my shoulder in private. I didn’t like for other guys to see when I was in pain.
    I put my hands on either side of the sink and looked into the mirror. My shaved head was new, but I liked the look it gave me. Menacing. I had the look of a guy that said, “You don’t even want to begin to fuck with me. I’ll kill you.”
    I pulled my mouth guard out and spat blood into the sink from where one of the rookies had gotten an easy punch on me. I looked away at Leo for just a moment and the kid came at me. Like he had something to prove. I ended him—might’ve broken a couple of his ribs in the process. That way he’d learn that you don’t mess with Jordan Jackson.
    I walked over to my locker and opened it up, pulled out a gallon of water, and started sucking it down. I pulled a towel out and wiped off my sweaty face. There wasn’t much in my locker besides those two things. I liked it that way. Clean. Everything had a place and was a necessity if it was in there. But when I reached to put my towel back, my hand brushed against something I forgot I had left here. I considered pulling it out, just to look at it. Just to make me feel little bit better, stronger, but I didn’t. I let my hand linger there just a moment too long then I pulled it back like I’d been bitten by a snake.
    I was Jordan Jackson, an unbeatable fighter. But everyone has a weakness.

TWO
    SLOANE
    I totally hated being up this early in the morning. But I didn’t have a choice;