“You sure?” he asks a little quieter.
“I love you, Gabe. So damned much. More than I knew was possible. Give ’em hell and then tomorrow, we’re definitely sleeping in, and I’m going to use those ladybug salt and pepper shakers to make you fluffy eggs from Scarlett’s Diner.”
A grin takes over his face, which is shiny with sweat. “That sounds like a hell of a plan, and I can’t fucking wait. I love you too. Relax. Everything’s going to be fine.”
I lean in to kiss him, inhaling the masculine scent wafting off his skin. “I’ll see you soon.”
As I walk out of the room, I wave at Jeb and the guys, keeping my head held high. As soon as Hal shuts the door behind me, I pause and release a huge breath.
“You okay, Ms. Priest?”
I turn and meet the older man’s green eyes. “I don’t know, Hal. I really don’t know.”
He pats me on the back. “Pre-fight jitters. I’ve seen it a thousand times. You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart, and so is he. This is what he’s been training for. You gotta believe he can do it.”
“I believe he can . . . I really do. But how am I supposed to be okay with watching someone try to hurt him?”
Hal shrugs. “It’s all part of the game. You’ll feel better in a bit. All your friends are waiting for you.”
With another shaky breath, I let him lead me down to the main level and out onto the floor. People call my name as I walk by, and I smile blindly at them but I don’t stop. I can’t possibly make conversation right now with someone who needs me to be “on.” I don’t have it in me.
As soon as I spot Harlow and Jimmy, Monroe and Nate, Ryan and Christine, and Kelsey and her brother Jon, a layer of nerves fades away. They’re my people, and if I’m freaking out, they’ll understand.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper as I scoot down the row past Harlow and Monroe.
“Girl, you look . . . insane. Good God.”
I’ve long since forgotten about what I’m wearing and have to glance down at the dress to remember. “Oh, yeah. Thank you.”
Harlow catches on first. “Shit, you look like you’re going to puke.”
I inhale a slow, calming breath and release it. “I’m really glad you’re next to me, because I’m gonna need to hold your hand. I swear I’ll try not to break it.”
“You got it, girl. Whatever you need.”
I give a wide smile to the entire audience as I scan it before turning to sit down. One face almost makes it falter.
See. You. Next. Tuesday. Herself. Lucy Byers. She’s at the end of the row, near the door to the cage.
I turn and drop into my seat before my smile turns into a jealous-for-no-reason glare. “What is she doing here?” I whisper to Harlow through clenched teeth.
“Who?”
“Lucy.”
Harlow turns to look before I can tell her not to. “That fucking bitch. I didn’t see her earlier. You want me to have security tell her to get the fuck out of here?”
I shake my head. “No. Because then she’ll cause a scene and I’ll have to kill her, and I don’t want to be stuck with only seeing Gabriel naked during conjugal visits for the rest of my life.”
“Wait, are you getting married?” Harlow asks loudly enough for Monroe’s head to turn on a swivel.
“Whoa. What did I miss? Did you get a ring?” she asks, reaching for my hand.
“No. No, I was just saying—”
“Lucy Byers is here,” Harlow says, explaining to Monroe before squeezing my hand. “If she bothers you, I’ll handle her. Okay?”
“Me too.” Monroe lifts her chin. “I hate that bitch.”
“Everything good?” Kelsey asks from the row behind us.
“We’re perfect,” Harlow replies with another squeeze.
The lights dim in the club, and everyone goes quiet before the music starts playing.
I don’t recognize the song, but then Jon Pak says from behind us, “Whoa. ‘Sweet Revenge’ by Motorhead. That’s one hell of a message.”
Those nerves I felt earlier? They’re rising strong as Bodhi walks out down the aisle toward the cage, looking like a giant in all black.
Jesus Christ. I forgot how big he is. Gabriel’s not small, but Bodhi is massive.
“They’d never be able to fight if it wasn’t catchweight,” Jon Pak says.
Part of me wants to turn around and tell him to shut the hell up before I freak out . . . and the fight hasn’t even started.
Bodhi strips down to his shorts and waits while a man smears what appears to be Vaseline on his face. A second man, a ref, steps up and checks his nails and mouthpiece, then makes Bodhi tap his cup. When they’re finished with the ritual, he climbs the short set of stairs leading into the cage. It’s the shape of an octagon, with eight black-coated chain-link sides and padded rails at the top.
My former self-defense instructor jogs around the center before the music goes silent for a beat, then changes to a Tom Petty song that I’ve heard many times before. But it’s never given me chills like it does tonight.
The entire club is on its feet as the lyrics of “Won’t Back Down” blare through the speakers, and we all wait for Gabriel to make his entrance.
As soon as I catch sight of movement in the aisle, my heart skips a beat. I squeeze Harlow’s hand tightly.
“Here he comes!” She squeals, bouncing beside me. “Gah. This is happening!”
Fifty
Legend
I waited until the last minute to decide on my walk-out song, but I think “Won’t Back Down” sends exactly the right message as I jog down the aisle, slapping the hands of people in the crowd.
This may not be the biggest fight in the biggest venue, but it feels that fucking way to me because I’ve never had more on the line. My coaches are behind me, and my confidence is at an all-time high.
Bodhi has come for his revenge, but he won’t be finding it here tonight. Not a fucking chance.
Everyone is on their feet, and the energy inside this club, the club that I built, is electric. I feed off it, letting it flow through my body as I approach the cage. I stop in front of the ref to strip off my shirt, kick off my shoes and socks, and peel my pants off. The cheers grow louder, and the crowd starts to chant.
“Legend. Legend. Legend.”
I may be an underdog in the odds, but clearly I’m the favorite with the people in this club tonight, and that works for me.
There’s more pomp and showmanship tonight than for any of the fights I’ve been in before, but it feels right. I’m here, in front of the city I’ve adopted as my home, to win.
After the cutman greases me up and the ref checks me out, I head into the cage and send up a prayer.
Don’t let me forget who I am and what I came here for.
I jog a lap around the inside of the cage, my gaze trained on Bodhi. He’s just as big, if not bigger, than he was before. Fighting at catchweight puts me at a disadvantage, another reason for the odds, but he doesn’t intimidate me in the least. Not ever before and certainly not tonight, in my house.
He may be bigger, but I’ve got knockout power too, and I’m younger, faster, and smarter. That’s all going to play in my favor.