Page 12 of Fighter

“Get him, Max!” Elmore shouts from behind me. Then he starts chanting at the crowd to get them fired up. “Maximus! Maximus! Maximus!”

I have a lot of fans here tonight. They start chanting back and I start feeling like Russell Crowe in Gladiator. I’m not even sure if that’s a good thing or not – look how he ended up.

The bell dings and I turn just in time to see Carl lunging at me with his right hand. Son of a bitch knew I wasn’t ready, but he’ll take any opportunity he can get.

I duck left but the strike grazes against my cheek. It’s not much, but it knocks me off balance, and I stumble and slam against the wall of the ring. I cover up in anticipation of his follow-up. He catches me in the rib with one hand and the shoulder with the other, but I counter with a low blow that finds his stomach and knocks him back.

The Carl I know would be open to a hard hit after that, but he’s clearly been training, because he just braces himself on his back foot and grins at me. “Gonna take more than that, fucker.”

He comes at me again, and I do my best to fend off his blows, but he clips me in the chin, and I stumble backwards and land hard on my back on the cold, concrete floor. No mats or padding here.

This isn’t the UFC, so there’s no ground game here. He laughs and taunts me as I get to my feet and wastes no time attacking again. I land a jab against his chin and drive him back for a second, but only a second. Then he’s right back on me.

“Your right, Max!” Elmore shouts. “Your right!”

I throw my right, but it’s too late. I’m off my game. Slow, like I’m beaten already.

Why wouldn’t she come? Didn’t last night mean anything to her?

Carl ducks my fist and my arm catches nothing but air. He leans into a strong right and pounds the breath from my limbs. I stagger back, doing my best not to double over in pain.

My eyes should be on him, but they’re not; they’re scanning the crowd aga

in for her.

I fucked up. The strip club was a terrible idea. Why did I ever agree to go with him?

Now I’m screwed. I’m gonna lose this fight and I’m gonna lose her.

No. I already lost her.

9

Samantha

“Sorry, little lady. I don’t know you, and if I don’t know you, you aren’t getting in.”

The scary looking man guarding the door eyes me with suspicion. When Tressa and I arrived at the address Maximus gave us, we almost turned around. An old warehouse in the middle of nowhere? But I wasn’t going to miss tonight. Even if coming meant that Tressa was going to look at me like I was insane for the rest of our friendship.

“I told you!” I protest. “I’m here to see Maximus. You know Maximus, right?”

The man shakes his head. “I don’t know anyone by that name, and this is a private event. You’re going to have to leave.”

“Are you kidding?” Tressa chimes in. “You think two girls that look like us would just show up at a shithole like this? You think we’re cops or something?”

The man just shrugs and grins like it makes him happy to deny us.

“Look, I’m here to see Maximus,” I say, trying again. “He told me to come to this address and watch the fight—”

“You Sam?” I turn around to see an older man in a biker vest walking toward me. He’s thin and has ratty old gray hair, but there’s something threatening about him. I almost don’t want to answer.

“Y—yes.”

“She’s all right, Check,” the man says to the other bouncer. He nods to me. “Follow me.”

I look at Tressa, who shrugs and tilts her head to her purse, reminding me that she’s got her hands on her mace. The man pulls open a door and motions for us to follow. It’s beyond sketchy, but if I want to see Maximus, this is what I have to do. So, with a deep breath, I step inside.

The sounds of the fight instantly overwhelm me. The air is thick and stinks of sweat and smoke, and I try not to freak out as the man leads us down the hall and into the makeshift arena.

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