Page 17 of Klutch's Kryptonite

“I just thought she was hot,” I insist, eyes narrowing. Jesus, fuck. He’s like a dog with a goddamn bone sometimes.

“Sure,” he nods, finishing up the tape job. “Ready?”

I flex my hands, testing the tape’s give. “Let’s do it.”

We exit the locker room, making our way through the hallway that leads back to the front of the arena. As we round the corner, I nearly collide with Smoke.

“Shit,” he mutters before quickly ending his phone call. “Didn’t see you there.”

My eyes narrow. This motherfucker is always lurking in the shadows and it’s starting to piss me off. Call me paranoid, but there’s something about him that just isn’t fucking right. I’ve brought it up to Diablo and Pee Wee on a couple of occasions and they tell me I’m being paranoid. That it’s all in my head. Maybe they’re right, but I just don’t trust him.

“Everything good?” I ask, noting the way he tucks his phone away.

“Yeah, yeah,” Smoke nods, forcing a grin. “Just handling some personal shit.”

Beast watches us closely. He hasn’t said shit, but I think he’s noticed Smoke’s odd behavior lately too.

I give Smoke a chin lift, deciding to file this away for later. “We’re about to spar. You want in?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he replies, already edging past us. “Got some errands to run for Denali.”

“Suit yourself,” Beast shrugs as Smoke disappears down the hallway.

“That dude’s always been sketchy,” Beast mutters once Smoke is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” I agree, still staring after him. “It’s weird right?”

Beast nods, and we continue toward the octagon.

The cage looms in the center of the room. It’s empty now, but come fight night, it’ll be surrounded by hundreds of bloodthirsty spectators.

I duck through the gate, rolling my shoulders as I step onto the canvas. My body automatically falls into a fighting stance—weight balanced, hands up, chin tucked. This cage is my domain. I run shit in here.

Beast circles around me, his own hands raised. “Ready to get your ass handed to you?”

“In your dreams, fat boy,” I taunt, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet.

We start slow, feeling each other out with jabs and light kicks. Beast has the weight advantage, but I’m faster. It’s a dance we’ve done hundreds of times.

“So,” Beast says, throwing a lazy hook that I easily slip under, “she starts tomorrow, huh?”

“Who?” I play dumb, even as an image of her vivid blue eyes flashes through my mind.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Beast laughs, blocking my counter jab. “The hottie who had you drooling all over the floor.”

“I wasn’t drooling,” I grunt, landing a solid body shot that makes him wince.

“Whatever you say, Casanova.” Beast raises an eyebrow, circling left. “We both know you want her.”

I feint a right cross and come in with a left hook that grazes his chin. “You’re seeing things.”

“Oh?” Beast questions, launching into a combination that forces me back against the cage. “So I can make a move?”

“Fuck off,” I growl, ducking under his arm and spinning away from the fence.

“That’s what I thought,” he taunts, grinning as he follows.

I answer with a quick one-two that catches him clean, snapping his head back. “Happy now?”

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