Page 54 of Fighting for Irish
Chapter Thirteen
He was covered in sweat and smears of blood and not all of it belonged to him. His right eye had started to swell and the cut on his lip from the week before had been reopened. The invisible injuries, like the one over his left rib cage and the one on the inside of his right calf, would turn shades of purple later. And yet he barely felt any of it. Not yet. Not while the rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins and fueled his muscles. Not while he still had a job to do.
The crowd’s deafening cheers echoed in the old arena, but like the pain, the sound was diluted, nothing more than a muffled din in the back of Aiden’s mind. A fighter couldn’t afford distractions. A fighter was trained to focus all his senses on his opponent while keeping his ears open just enough to hear instructions from his corner. Everything else was a blur, like a lens out of focus.
When it was done right, every part of a fighter’s mind and body worked together to accomplish a single goal: win.
The air horn blast sliced through the roars, signaling the end of the second round. The ref broke apart Aiden and the other fighter known as Bulldog and sent them to their corners in the black octagonal cage. Breathing heavily, Aiden dropped his ass onto the stool and accepted the bottle Xander offered him. He took out his mouth guard and squeezed some water into his mouth. He swished, turned his head to the side, and spit it onto the mat. The next squeeze he greedily swallowed.
Xan had fought earlier. He had a gash over his left eye and a swollen jaw, but that was nothing compared to what the other guy looked like. Xan had passed to the next round and would be fighting in a week. Now Aiden had to do the same thing or else—
Smack!Aiden’s head snapped to the side before he brought it back to center and glared at his best friend.
“Do I have your attention now, mate? Because you looked like you’d danced off to La La Land, which is exactly where you’ll end up if you don’t bloody finish that fucker in the next five minutes!”
Winning was necessary, which meant focusing was necessary. If Aiden let himself think about anything else—especially the consequences of losing—he was as good as beat. Xander was right. He’d needed the slap in the face.
“You’re holding back,” Xan yelled to be heard above the crowd. “Stop pussyfooting around and lay him out!”
“Fuck off,” he growled as one of Xan’s fight buddies smeared Vaseline on his cheeks, nose, and forehead. “What do you think I’m trying to do out there?”
Xander got right in his face and nailed him with a serious glare. “I think you’re afraid to let yourself go and fight like you used to. But I’m telling you, if you keep the animal caged much longer, Aid, you’re going to lose. That guy is no joke.”
No, he wasn’t. Bulldog was a few inches shorter than Aiden’s six-four, but he weighed in at 240, which made him a heavyweight. At 205, Aiden fell into the light heavyweight category, but the underground circuit wasn’t concerned with keeping strict weight classes.
Aiden glanced across the cage at the other fighter. He was already standing, shaking his muscles out and cracking his neck to either side as he waited to be called out for the final round. Fuck, he was a beast. But he was slow and preferred the ground game. Aiden’s best bet was to keep him standing and hope to land a punch just right that would knock the guy’s lights out.
The end of the break sounded. He stood and shoved his mouth guard back in. Before Xander picked up the stool and left the octagon, he spoke in Aiden’s ear. “Either you finish him or Kat’s as good as sold to the highest bidder.”
So much for not thinking about the consequences.
Both men met in the middle, fists in front of their faces as they slowly circled, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Xander was right. Aiden had been holding back. Not much, but just enough. Enough to keep himself under control. Then, after the whole situation was over and the smoke cleared, he could rein back in this dangerous side of him like he’d done before. But he couldn’t take the risk that that might not get the job done. He needed to let go and drop that last wall.
So, taking a deep breath, he did.
Like a punch of nitrous oxide in a high-performance racecar, Aiden’s darker half flooded his veins. What he hadn’t let out in more than five years stretched and yawned inside him…then shook off the sleep and bared its teeth. It was done. The beast was unleashed. He stared down his opponent and let him see it in his eyes.
Then he attacked.
Man to man, they clashed in the middle of the cage like modern-day gladiators. But instead of a shield and sword, their fists were all they used to both punish and protect. Though Aiden’s appearance hadn’t changed, his technique had. His strikes were harder, quicker.
Bulldog swung and connected a meaty fist with Aiden’s ribs. Pain like shards of glass sliced through his torso. He smiled through the pangs, the kind that if his mouth guard wasn’t in would be all teeth, no mirth. The kind that warned of something unpleasant to come.
Aiden answered with a jab-hook combo that rattled Bulldog’s head, but not for more than a couple of seconds. They engaged each other again and again. The man moved like a boxer and hit like a train, but his bulk made him slow. For every punch he threw, Aiden threw combinations of two or three. Still, they were pretty evenly matched standing up, and Aiden wasn’t in this fight for good times. So when he saw an opportunity, Aiden shot in at the man’s hips and took him to the ground. Hopefully Bulldog’s jujitsu wasn’t up to par with Aiden’s.
He swung his body off to the side, yanked Bulldog’s right arm between his thighs, and slammed the rest of his legs across the prone man’s chest to pin him in place. Pulling Bulldog’s wrist down, Aiden threatened to break the fighter’s arm, bending it back in the wrong damn direction.
It only took a few seconds before Bulldog used his other hand to tap the mat three times, signaling to the ref that he conceded the match. Aiden let go, they both stood up, and the ref raised Aiden’s hand as the winner while the announcer said his piece.
“And the winner, finishing the fight at one minute, thirty-seven seconds in the third round by submission is…Ooooooo’BRIEN!”
With sweat pouring down his body and his breaths still coming hard and fast, Aiden aimlessly scanned the mostly booing crowd. Underground tournaments were hotbeds for big-time gamblers, and apparently Bulldog had been favored to win. Looks like he wasn’t about to make any new friends tonight. Fine by him. He had no intentions of being buddies with anyone. He just wanted to win his fights, collect the money, pay off Sicoli, and keep Kat safe with him.
He shook his head. Those head shots must have been worse than he thought. He couldn’t keep Kat with him. He was making her safe by paying off her bogus debt, then he was sending her on her way with a decent chunk of cash to start a new life somewhere else. That was the plan.
Finally, everything was over. The ref dropped his arm and the crowd was getting pumped up for the next fight. Aiden stepped out of the cage and met Xander, who gave him his duffel bag.
