Page 111 of Falcon

Chapter 23

Falcon

“Thanks, guys. Have fun tomorrow night, okay?” I say, as I sign a few autographs for a couple young boys who have approached me in the hotel lobby.

“We really hope you win. You have to. Braxton White can’t hang with you. He just can’t,” the little brown-headed one says.

“Well, he’s a pretty skilled fighter, but I think you’re right. I can take him,” I say, giving him a pat on the head, then I look up to the woman who brought them up, whom I assume is their mother. “Ma’am? I’m going to speak to my team at the merch table. Tomorrow, go there and they can pick out anything they’d like. On me.”

“Oh my goodness, thank you so much,” she says, then looks down at the kids. “Boys, what do you say?”

“Thank you!” they say, nearly in unison, then they turn around and bolt off, cheering and looking at their signed pictures.

I laugh. “You’re welcome, guys. Thank you for the support.”

The mother thanks me again, then turns to go after her boys.

“Wow, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” I turn toward the voice and spot the most beautiful woman in the room.

“Did it excite you?” I ask Faith.

“Very much so.”

“Were you spying on me?” I ask.

“Maybe I’m a voyeur at heart, like you.” She steps toward me, places her hands on my chest, and pushes up on her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the lips.

We made the trip up to Chicago late last night after spending a few days off in Dallas. It’s not typical to have one fight so close to another, but this was scheduled when I was at my most arrogant, most cocky. In fact, I think I even said, “I can win three fights in a row with no turnaround time. No fucking problem.”

I cup her face in my hands as the kiss breaks. “When did you come down here? I was going to bring you up some coffee.”

“I wanted to come find you. I thought we could have breakfast together before you had to head to your workout.” She lazily traces my hairline at the nape of my neck.

She is dressed simply, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. She has her hair piled in this messy bun type of thing on top of her head, and there isn’t a stitch of makeup on her face. She has a smattering of freckles that decorate the center of her face, over the bridge of her nose. She’s so beautiful that it makes my chest ache.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, giving her head the slightest tilt.

I release a breath through my nose and then kiss the tip of hers. “I just love looking at you.”

“Well, you can look all you want for as long as you want.”

“I’ll take you up on that.” I kiss her again.

***

A few hours later, after breakfast with Faith and a quickie against the hotel room window, I step out of the shower and nearly buckle over in pain.

It feels like an ice pick is wedged behind my eye. The pain is searing and cold. It’s bringing tears to my eyes and a deep, sharp ring to my ears.

I have to squeeze my eyes closed. The light is too much.

“Fuck!” I growl out, reaching for the counter ledge to balance myself, but I knock off the hair dryer Faith left there this morning and send it clattering to the floor.

“FUCK! Shit,” I shout again. I bend forward and brace myself against the counter, head bowed, breathing through the pain.

“Marco?” Faith calls from the other side of the door, knocking softly just after. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just slipped.”

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