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

utmost respect for the Championship and his opponent. If you asked me, Gabe didn’t deserve it, but from a PR standpoint, Dean was a perfect angel. A dream come true.
    It was a show of power if I ever saw one. A fighter standing his ground in the face of defeat. Epic sportsmanship.
    And I couldn’t help but feel he did it in lieu of apologizing. I wasn’t sure what I wanted more. For him to admit he was wrong about going to see Monica to my face or for him to act responsible and make my job a little easier for once. I guess beggars couldn’t be choosers. Not when my screwed-up heart was involved.
    I still couldn’t get the image of Dean falling to the mat out of my mind. I’d seen Hamish take hits like that before, but that was at The Underground where there were no rules, and he’d toughened himself up enough to be able to get up and keep going. I’d never seen Dean dropped by another fighter because he hadn’t been KO’d before. In the AUFC, they stopped the fight if it got to that point, but Gabe’s punch had been brutal and on point.
    It made me think about Hamish, and I wondered how he was getting on at The Underground after our break up. Realizing I hadn’t thought about him for at least two weeks, I began to feel guilty.
    When things were good between us, they were brilliant, but when they were bad… Hamish was a really good guy, but there was nothing I could do about it now. What was done was done.
    Scrolling through the top AUFC fan site—MMA Addiction—on my phone, I skimmed a blog post about Dean’s hit. They weren’t happy about it, calling it a cheap shot on O’Connell’s behalf. Total knockouts had been a rare occurrence in the all-Australian league, and they’d mostly happened by chance, but many were speculating it had been done deliberately. Gabe O’Connell had the reputation.
    Besides, he’d given me the impression he was coming back for more when he’d tried to seduce me over to the dark side at the weigh-in. I knew the next fight he’d be looking for was against Lincoln for the middleweight title, and it’d put him in my orbit yet again.
    “Josie?”
    I blinked and turned to face Violet. She was standing beside me, holding up a black gown and waggling it in my face.
    “Are you in there?” she asked. “Or have you left the building?”
    “I’m here,” I replied, itching to look down at my phone again.
    We were standing in the middle of one of the fanciest boutiques in Sydney, shopping for gowns to wear to the annual AUFC Charity Gala that was happening two weeks from now. It was a huge party the league put on every year to raise money for their partner charity, Tightrope—a foundation that prided itself on raising awareness of depression and mental illness in professional sports, but they also extended their reach to teens and younger kids. It was a big reason why the Twins were always donating their time to go out to local training days at gyms and dojos. The AUFC wasn’t kid-appropriate, but the Twins knew more than most why it was important to focus energy on fighting in a sporting arena rather than out on the streets. It was a big deal for some of the teens they went out to meet.
    Reaching out, I ran my fingers over the fabric of the gown Violet was holding up. The store was bright and full of beautiful dresses I’d usually be pawing like a horny teenager, but my focus was split much like Dean’s had been. I lost to the guy who tried to take you from me. My heart wasn’t in it today.
    “Put that away,” Vee said, snatching my phone from my hand. “Work can wait a few hours. You’ve been going nonstop since we met up. Life is up here.” She waved her hand around, gesturing to the store with my phone dangling like a carrot in front my nose. “It took me a long time to realize that, and now I’m in it, I’m not letting anyone else miss the good stuff. Especially not you.”
    “But,” I complained, reaching for my phone.
    She pulled her hand back. “No buts. I