Surge: (#7 The Beat and The Pulse) by Amity Cross Read Free Book Online

the trickle of blood running down my face. The fucker had split my eyebrow.
    Returning to my corner, I glared at Coach, who gestured for me to kneel. He jumped into the cage and dabbed a towel against my cut, wiping the blood away. “I don’t know what he said to you, but don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to split your focus. Shut him out.”
    “Yes, Coach.” I nodded, my gaze lifting.
    I don’t know if it was intentional or unconscious, but I saw Josie sitting next to my brother. Our gazes locked, and she nodded.
    You’ve got this , she mouthed, but all I could see was Gabe O’Connell and the filthy shit he’d said about her. Disrespectful shit. Josie was classy as fuck, had balls of steel, and could duke it out with the best men in this business. Not literally, but she didn’t take crap from anybody, especially me. Nobody spoke about her like she was a thing to be taken advantage of. Nobody .
    All I felt was anger, and anger to a fighter was the worst thing he could fixate on in the octagon. It was the farthest thing from maintaining focus there was, and I was letting it rule me, but I didn’t care. Gabe O’Connell needed to have his mouth shut, and I was just the man to do it for him.
    Pushing away from the mesh, I turned back to face my opponent.
    Round three began, and Gabe and I danced again, this time, testing the waters a little more forcibly. I threw a few punch combinations, trying to break through his guard, and he shot some back at me.
    “Here pussy, pussy, pussy,” he cooed at me.
    “Clean fight, gentlemen,” Harrington bellowed, reminding O’Connell to keep it in check, but he didn’t stop the fight and let us maintain.
    “You had her yet?” Gabe asked, ignoring the warning from the referee.
    I felt my already shredded focus disintegrate, and I attacked, throwing myself onto Gabe for the mother of all takedowns, but he saw it coming a mile off. He’d been counting on it. Uncontrollable forward momentum, his fist…it was a perfect combination.
    Gabe threw a punch with his right fist, and it smacked into my temple with a precision that surprised me. Coach warned me O’Connell fought dirty. I knew he’d try something underhanded, and I let the cocksucker throw me off.
    My head snapped backward, the lights above the octagon burning into my retinas as I fell. Like the world was in slow motion, I slammed into the mat, my jaw jarring from the impact, and I was powerless.
    With the last of my strength, I rolled over onto my stomach, attempting to get back up and stay in the fight, but my palms slipped, and I was down again.
    The world fell from view, the mat and the drops of blood from my own face the only things I could see…and they were becoming blurrier by the minute.
    Harrington was on his knees beside me, his face practically shoved up in mine waiting to call it. I tried to hold on so I could teach O’Connell some fucking manners, but my body had other ideas.
    The referee’s hand slapped onto the mat beside me, and he shouted. I didn’t hear what he said as I slipped into unconsciousness, but I didn’t have to.
    Third round KO.
    I’d lost.

    * * *
    P ushing away the hands of an overzealous paramedic, I reached for the bag of ice beside me and pushed it against my aching temple. If only I could ice my pride, then maybe I’d feel a little better. What was above a pile of shit? The pitter-patter of Gabe O’Connell’s piss?
    “Leave me alone,” I snapped at the paramedic. “I’m fine.”
    “You might have a concussion,” he argued. “I need to check—”
    “I said fuck off!”
    Coach appeared beside us and gestured for the paramedic to leave me be. “I’ll see to it he gets checked out,” he told the guy. “He’s angry, so you won’t get a proper look-in for a while yet. Don’t take it to heart.”
    The guy snorted, picking up his bag. “I’ve dealt with worse dented egos.” He glanced at me, and I narrowed my eyes in return. “Make sure someone is with him