Going the Distance by Meg Maguire Read Free Book Online Page B

fans—and with any woman possessed of eyes and a pulse—but hated by his fair share of enthusiasts, too.
    Moreau strode out to some hard-core rock song, minimalist in black warm-ups, his scalp gleaming under the lights.
    Lindsey felt a pain in her palm and realized she was clenching her fist hard enough to leave nail marks.
    The fighters had stripped to their shorts and gloves, both hopping and jogging in place, keeping warm. Rich shook out his arms and tossed punches in the air.
    The announcer went through the rigmarole, rattling through the rules for the three-round match, and the men went back to their corners. A ring girl circled, and with a shout, the fight was on.
    â€œOh, God,” Jenna said again. If the throw pillow in her lap had been an animal, she’d already have crushed the life out of it.
    Lindsey held her breath and bit her lip, hands squished between her clenched thighs.
    Rich took the offensive early. Moreau was a more cautious, strategic fighter. Rich baited him with a few quick swipes, but Moreau waited for an opening.
    â€œOh!” Jenna cried when the first punch landed. It was a soft, harmless jab to Rich’s shoulder, but she buried her face in the pillow all the same. Lindsey teetered at the edge of the cushion.
    The two fighters clinched for a few seconds, each landing a couple of good shots.
    â€œStay on your feet,” Lindsey murmured. “Stay on your feet.” Moreau was good on the mat—a far stronger grappler, even after Rich’s past months of world-class training. Or so she’d read in one of her incriminating magazines.
    Rich knocked his opponent with a sharp hook then dodged aside, clearly content to keep this fight upright.
    â€œGood. Good.” How had Mercer survived being in Rich’s and Delante’s corners? Lindsey felt a heart attack brewing just watching from the other side of the country. Yet she could practically feel everything, live and in three dimensions. Hear the crowd all around her as she had at the Boston fight, smell the sweat and feel the heat of the lights and bodies.
    â€œEstrada’s come out strong , ” the first announcer observed. “ But Moreau’s known for his pacing.”True.
    â€œBe cool,” she muttered. “Save something for the other two rounds.”
    â€œI have no idea who’s winning,” Brett said.
    â€œNo one yet.”
    By the time the horn blared to end the round, the two men had had a good dance, but neither was the clear favorite. Lindsey shoved popcorn in her face, just to have something to do.
    Jenna peeked from behind her pillow. “What happened?”
    â€œThey’re both holding steady,” Lindsey said.
    Jenna went back into hiding the second the ring girl was done prancing.
    Lindsey didn’t know what Moreau’s trainer had said to him during the break, but he came out with a fire under his ass, going right for Rich’s legs. Get him on his back. That’s what he’d been told.
    Rich dodged Moreau’s efforts to kick his feet out from under him, and with a solid roundhouse to the ribs he sent the other man stumbling into the chain-link.
    â€œYes,” Lindsey groaned, hugging the bowl. Her heart punched her ribs with every beat, easily a million times a minute.
    Rich sneaked in a flurry of jabs, then took a mean hit to the ear. He gave twice as good as he got, banging Moreau in the ribs with his knee. Thirty seconds before the horn, Moreau hooked him behind the legs and got them onto the ground, but they ended the round in a mutual tangle, neither in danger of submitting. Lindsey gulped a breath when the air horn sounded, the first she’d taken since the fighters had hit the mat.
    â€œAnything?” Jenna asked from behind her pillow.
    â€œNothing deciding.” But Moreau was probably winning now, if this fight came down to points.
    â€œIf Moreau can manage that again, early in the third,” noted the announcer,