drawn to him like a magnet. There was something about the guy that commanded attention and respect. His body was spectacular, all hard muscle and sinew, his jaw was hard and sharp, his dark hair short and messy…and his eyes… Well, no doubt he’d be able to pin a woman down in more ways than one.
I glanced around at the crowd and saw how he commanded them. He was adored by all. The women were falling over themselves, shouting obscene come-ons. Do me Rebel! Fuck me hard! Let me suck your cock! The men were hero-worshipping the guy and the ones who weren’t were openly envious. I could see it in their eyes. The lot of them. Rebel was king in this place. The man of the moment.
The two men toed their lines, and before I had time to collect myself, the fight began.
It was all twisting bodies glistening with sweat, grunting, and blood. A total doodle-fest. A battle of who had the most testosterone.
Fists collided against flesh, knees and feet smacked into torsos, and when Rebel heaved Crowbar over his shoulder and flung him like he weighed nothing, I almost had to cover my eyes. Then he simply got up and kept going. There were no rules, huh? I could see that. Both men wanted to win, but the difference was Crowbar was desperate and Rebel wasn’t. Rebel made beating a man half to death look easy.
Holy fucking hell .
Rebel clocked Crowbar in the jaw, the smack of his fist audible over the din, and I found myself flinching as the guy’s head snapped to the side. He fell to the ground, his temple smashing against the concrete. Blood dribbled from his mouth, his expression dazed, but he placed his palms against the floor and pushed.
My eyes were opened, alright.
I glanced up at the fighter known as Rebel and froze. He was staring right at me . So much for a low profile.
He began to move, not even glancing at Crowbar, who was trying to struggle to his feet. The bout wasn’t over until he tapped, but he didn’t seem to care. Rebel was…I was enthralled. I’d never seen a man fight like that, not even in all my years as a beat cop. He fought like his life was on the line. He fought like a predator .
And he was coming right for me.
Chapter 2
Rebel
M y fist slammed into flesh and the crowd roared.
This. This is what I was born to do. I was a fighter through and through. Had to be. I hadn’t had one of those fancy, normal upbringings with home-cooked meals and a safe bed to sleep in at night. I learned how to fight the moment my parents died, and I had been fighting ever since. Junkies, fucked up foster parents, bullies, thugs, and petty thieves. I’d fought them all.
They called me Rebel for a reason. It’s not just the name I take when I step into the cage at The Underground. It’s the name that life gave me when I rebelled against it.
So fuckin’ what? I got dealt a shit card and I just had to deal with it.
The Underground housed some of the meanest fighters out there. If they couldn’t or didn’t want to go pro, or just wanted something a little more violent without the rules and regulations, they came here. Motherfucking illegal, but it was better I fought in the cage than out there on the street. In here, I could earn real money for using my fists instead of using them to keep my life. Either way, I could die doing this shit, but in this cage, I had less of a chance of kicking the bucket. In the cage, it was only fists, not guns and knives.
With it being the first bout of the night, I was full of energy, adrenaline running hot and hard through my veins. My opponent was Crowbar, and the few times I’d fought him he’d made it good. There was a great deal of grappling and blood when we were pitted against each other.
Swinging with my right, I clipped past his guard, and my knuckles collided with his temple. I felt the shock of the blow shoot up my arm, but I was so amped up and high, I hardly felt it. Crowbar fell, his head cracking on the concrete. The fucker would be down for more than a minute. I
I glanced around at the crowd and saw how he commanded them. He was adored by all. The women were falling over themselves, shouting obscene come-ons. Do me Rebel! Fuck me hard! Let me suck your cock! The men were hero-worshipping the guy and the ones who weren’t were openly envious. I could see it in their eyes. The lot of them. Rebel was king in this place. The man of the moment.
The two men toed their lines, and before I had time to collect myself, the fight began.
It was all twisting bodies glistening with sweat, grunting, and blood. A total doodle-fest. A battle of who had the most testosterone.
Fists collided against flesh, knees and feet smacked into torsos, and when Rebel heaved Crowbar over his shoulder and flung him like he weighed nothing, I almost had to cover my eyes. Then he simply got up and kept going. There were no rules, huh? I could see that. Both men wanted to win, but the difference was Crowbar was desperate and Rebel wasn’t. Rebel made beating a man half to death look easy.
Holy fucking hell .
Rebel clocked Crowbar in the jaw, the smack of his fist audible over the din, and I found myself flinching as the guy’s head snapped to the side. He fell to the ground, his temple smashing against the concrete. Blood dribbled from his mouth, his expression dazed, but he placed his palms against the floor and pushed.
My eyes were opened, alright.
I glanced up at the fighter known as Rebel and froze. He was staring right at me . So much for a low profile.
He began to move, not even glancing at Crowbar, who was trying to struggle to his feet. The bout wasn’t over until he tapped, but he didn’t seem to care. Rebel was…I was enthralled. I’d never seen a man fight like that, not even in all my years as a beat cop. He fought like his life was on the line. He fought like a predator .
And he was coming right for me.
Chapter 2
Rebel
M y fist slammed into flesh and the crowd roared.
This. This is what I was born to do. I was a fighter through and through. Had to be. I hadn’t had one of those fancy, normal upbringings with home-cooked meals and a safe bed to sleep in at night. I learned how to fight the moment my parents died, and I had been fighting ever since. Junkies, fucked up foster parents, bullies, thugs, and petty thieves. I’d fought them all.
They called me Rebel for a reason. It’s not just the name I take when I step into the cage at The Underground. It’s the name that life gave me when I rebelled against it.
So fuckin’ what? I got dealt a shit card and I just had to deal with it.
The Underground housed some of the meanest fighters out there. If they couldn’t or didn’t want to go pro, or just wanted something a little more violent without the rules and regulations, they came here. Motherfucking illegal, but it was better I fought in the cage than out there on the street. In here, I could earn real money for using my fists instead of using them to keep my life. Either way, I could die doing this shit, but in this cage, I had less of a chance of kicking the bucket. In the cage, it was only fists, not guns and knives.
With it being the first bout of the night, I was full of energy, adrenaline running hot and hard through my veins. My opponent was Crowbar, and the few times I’d fought him he’d made it good. There was a great deal of grappling and blood when we were pitted against each other.
Swinging with my right, I clipped past his guard, and my knuckles collided with his temple. I felt the shock of the blow shoot up my arm, but I was so amped up and high, I hardly felt it. Crowbar fell, his head cracking on the concrete. The fucker would be down for more than a minute. I
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