Page 2 of Ensnared
Now I’m royally ticked. “I have to fight in just under two weeks. Coach is about to cut to just training and no sparring, and now’s when you girls decide to go easy on me?” I swear under my breath, getting ready to pummel the next guy within an inch of his lousy life.
“It’s not our fault,” Holden mutters.
“What does that mean?” My eyes narrow.
“Nothing,” Holden says.
“Shut up.” Javi mouths something angrily. “Idiot.”
So someone’s telling them to go easy on me. . .but who would dare? Everyone knows how much this next fight matters to my career. It’s almost a miracle Coach even got me the fight, and it’s being broadcast on prime time. My opponent, Gisele Costa, is technically way above my paygrade. I need to bring my A-game, and that means training my very hardest.
Why would anyone at my gym want me to fail?
Maybe I’m asking the wrong question. There aren’t many people all these guys would listen to, other than Coach Sousa. In fact, I can only think of one.
“Gideon!”
He’s sparring across the gym, but both he and his opponent freeze, so I know they heard me.
“Gideon Evans, get over here right now.”
He ignores me.
Fine. I’ll go to him. I hop out and jog toward the corner where he’s still holding Frank’s wrist. Javi, and Holden, and Isaac take my departure as their cue to leave, ducking out the back door before I’ve even reached Gideon’s ring.
Frank wrenches his hand free and moves away as I hit the edge of the ring and swing up. He ducks out nearly as fast as the other guys did.
“What’s going on?” Coach Sousa was wrapping an ankle in his office, but he must have abandoned that. He’s nearly reached the edge of our octagon.
“Gideon told the guys to take it easy on me.” I cross my arms. “And I want to know why.”
“He’s your biggest supporter,” Sousa says. “He wants you to win as much as the rest of us. . .” I notice he’s not saying Gideon didn’t tell them to ease up.
And we can both see the set of Gideon’s jaw and the flashing of his eyes.
“Tell me it’s not true,” I say. “Tell me you didn’t.”
Gideon shrugs. “So what if I did? Getting injured before your fight won’t help you.”
“But if I don’t train well enough, I’ll get injured worse later, with everyone watching.”
“You’re already great at holds,” Gideon says. “Javi’s a boxer, and Holden’s kicks are infamous. If one of them broke?—”
I’m done listening. He took my decent partners, so he can take their place. I spin a kick toward him without thinking, and it lands hard on his shoulder.
“Whoa,” Coach Sousa says.
But it’s too late for him to stop us. I’m furious, and Gideon looks nearly as angry. We’ve been in school together since I started kindergarten and trained together since I was seven years old and he was eight. He has always thought he knows better than I do, and I’m heartily sick of it.
He’s had a few big wins, just like I have. He has a few decent sponsors, just like I do. He’s tall, just like I am, only, tall for him is four inches over six feet. Tall for me is an inch shy of six feet. Still, by the percentages, I’m more impressive than he is.
Like me, Gideon’s not afraid to take a punch. When he fights, he’s relaxed, calm, and focused. My holds and kicks are better than his, but his strikes are much stronger than mine. Luckily, I’m fast enough to evade the force behind most of them.
His left hook’s famous, and it’s coming right at me. I shift slightly, and then I elbow the inside of his wrist, throwing him off balance. His hook glances, but it still stings.
That’s part of the reason we train. Even without fear, we still have to learn to deal with pain and move through it. Now that I’m inside his guard, an elbow to his gut causes him to fold inward, which gives me the opening I need to go for an armbar.
“I thought we agreed you weren’t doing these.” Gideon’s low tone is a little too close to a whisper, maybe because it’s right in my ear.
