Page 62 of B-ry
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
B-ry
“Where the hell you been, biker?” Andrei asked in his thick accent.
I smiled, maybe a bit more cocky than normal. It could have been that I was trying to cover everything up.
I stepped up to the ring where he had been sparring with another one of his men. It didn’t look like the guy was going to last much longer.
“Get in,” he said causing me to pause.
Andrei nodded at the guy standing on guard in front of him and the guy got out of the ring like his asshole was on fire.
He’d never invited me into the ring.
I’d never really had the want for him to.
But he caught me on an off day and I had to admit that I was a bit curious right now.
I’d seen Andrei fight enough times to know that he wasn’t someone you messed with.
Yet, here I was about to climb into the ring with him. Okay, it wasn’t like we were fighting for real, but it wasn’t like we weren’t going to try our hardest.
I had already warmed up before I jogged over here and I was ready to go. I tossed my bag to the side and slipped off my club hoodie and shirt. Then I patted the pockets of my black track pants to make sure they were empty.
With a deep breath, I climbed up and slid in between the ropes, never taking my eyes off of Andrei. I didn’t really think he would try to get a cheap shot in, he wasn’t the type, but I still knew better than to let my guard down.
One of the skinny guys that I’d seen around the place enough to know that he was kind of like a little bitch boy around here hopped in and walked over to me. He helped me get on a pair of gloves and once he was done, I gave him a short nod of thanks.
Then I clapped my gloves together, letting Andrei know that I was ready.
Arms up, feet planted, knees bent, I was ready for him.
“You haven’t been around lately,” Andrei said as he advanced slowly on me. “You might be a little slower than you think.”
“Shut the fuck up and do something,” I said then ducked my face behind my hands.
He chuckled, taking it as a joke, thank fuck.
Just like I had expected, he went low. His right arm curled around and aimed for my side. I jumped back and threw a jab. I barely clipped him because I wasn’t close enough, but I knew it.
He raised a brow at me.
“May have watched you a time or two,” I said and took a step to the left. “You always start with that when you go against a new opponent.”
For a second, I would have sworn he looked impressed.
Usually, people didn’t see it coming when he made that move and so they didn’t even get a chance to toss something out. He seemed a little happy, if not shocked, that I’d made a move right away.
But I wasn’t going to start beating my chest just yet.
He tossed out a left hook and I ducked, then hit him with an uppercut as I came up. His head jerked up a little, but not as much as I would have thought.
It went back and forth like this. He’d always make the first move and most of the time I had a good idea what it would be. I would attempt to block or dodge it, then throw out some sloppy followup that seemed to barely do anything to him.
“You’re not bad, biker.”
Wait? Was that a compliment?
