The Race

by Alice Ward

  Caleb seemed to like that because a full grin broke out on his face. “It will be fun to see him find out.”

  “Yeah, it will.”

  He nodded, his expression satisfied. “I’m going to scope out the ring and the coaches’ area. Naturally, I’ll be at the side of the ring, but I probably won’t be right by the ropes. Backers don’t particularly need to be caught on camera right in the action. Andre should be here any minute.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you when the fight is over?” A tiny bit of hope lifted out at the end of my sentence. I needed to stop that.

  “I certainly hope so.” A frown wrinkled his forehead. “Otherwise, we have drastically miscalculated the situation here.”

  He was right. There was always the possibility that I would be knocked out cold and carried out of the ring. I wouldn’t allow that to happen. After he left, I ramped up my warm-up ritual to Andre status. Once I didn’t have Caleb’s banter to distract me, my heart rate spiked, and I started to sweat. This was happening. This was really happening.

  After years of fighting in busted up parking garages or abandoned warehouses, I was fighting a professional in a legal fight that was going to be on television. If Dad was alive, I knew he would be proud. I just wished he was around to see me make a name for myself. Me a professional fighter while Sage was a future college graduate? He would have been tickled absolutely pink.

  Then again, if Dad was alive, who knew if I would have found this path. It was hard to say, considering the twists and turns that life liked to wind itself in. And I was wasting far too much mental energy on “what ifs,” when I needed to focus on what was now.

  And what was now, was the fight.

  When I surfaced from warming up, the murmur of hundreds of voices talking idly filtered in. Flicking on the TV in the room, I saw that they had a live feed to the string of fights beginning in the arena. It must’ve been some sort of simulcast so fighters or executives could stay on top of things without having to go ringside. Continuing with my warm-up, I watched intently as the stadium geared up for Roberto’s first fight of the night.

  I had watched plenty of videos of the man’s fights during my two-week surge, but it was an entirely different thing to see it live. There was an electricity in the air, a sort of breathless excitement that happened any time there was a large crowd that was enthusiastic about a live event. My adrenaline surged, and my heart began pumping like I was running a marathon.

  Andre came in as the first bell was ringing and planted himself in a chair. Once the fight started, Coach immediately pointed out different move sets and strategies of Roberto’s while I jumped rope. I tried to absorb as much as I could, but most of it was just rehashing what he had already drilled into my head during our prep.

  I could feel time rushing forward, and it seemed like just a handful of minutes later that both of the fights and the intermissions between them were over.

  It was my turn.

  My already free-flowing adrenaline went ape shit wild. A mixture of laughter and cheering, my name being called, was already coming from the audience. Had some of my fans from the underground heard I was fighting here and shown up? I could only hope so. I was about to make them either very proud or wish that they had never heard of Cherry Bomb.

  I could hear the video Caleb’d had made for the charity of my choice. I’d chosen to highlight his efforts with Good Samaritan and the kind of people they helped, and what they needed to expand. He’d helped me so much, bolstered my family and my mama with his sponsorship that there had really been no choice. I knew he believed his sister was out there, hurting, and I couldn’t not help any way I could.

  Then the announcer belted out my name with all the pomp and circumstance that you might expect. My intro music started, Coach slapped me on the back, and I made my legs move.

  Jogging down the hall through the flashing of cameras, the noise was what hit me first, so many voices — cheering, jeering — the music loud enough to burst eardrums. But then, the ring came into view, and nothing else mattered.

  This was it. Do or die time.

  And I certainly had no plans to die tonight.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Caleb

  This is it.

  All of her training, all of the money I poured into her prep were about to come to a head.

  Standing just a few feet away from the ring next to Hunter, I was close enough to see individual beads of sweat on both of the fighter’s faces. We hadn’t bet on this one, because we knew she couldn’t win and neither of us could bear betting against her.

  Roberto, to his credit, didn’t look like he was taking Cherry lightly. I guessed that after being a professional for so long, he knew anyone could hurt him if he didn’t take them seriously.

  His first two fights had been a cakewalk, and the crowd was clearly restless. This was a prime opportunity for Cherry to knock it out of the park. All she had to do was dig deep and last five rounds, one more than Roberto’s previous two opponents.

  The bell rang, making my breath catch in my chest, and they were dancing toward each other. She looked beautiful, like some kind of Wonder Woman slash warrior fairy princess with her almost steampunk outfit that was a tight-fitting tank and mock miniskirt.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, surprised to find that instead of excited, I was being dunked in an overwhelming pool of dread. Watching Roberto advance on Cherry made me want to duck into the ring and protect her, even if that negated the entire reason she was here. When he threw the first punch, my stomach practically dropped out of my body.

  She dodged, and the blow went wide, and my stomach was still clenched. When Hunter hooted beside me, I wondered what the hell was wrong with me.

  Cherry was a fighter. Her job was beating the living daylights out of people, which included getting her own ass kicked every now and then. Her body was both her tool and her product, and if she was successful, her whole young life would involve her being in physical danger from others.

  But even though I knew all that logically, my emotions were all over the place. This wasn’t like me. I wiped sweat from my forehead. Not at all. How was a single woman, one I had supreme confidence in in the ring, throwing me so out of whack? Had I gone soft?

  I didn’t have an answer for that, and I couldn’t dedicate the extra brain power to figuring it out right now. Roberto was chasing Cherry around the ring, and she was doing an insane job of dodging every blow.

  As if she wasn’t at enough of a disadvantage, this fight was a boxing match instead of an MMA battle so she couldn’t rely on her impressive list of trick holds and escapes. No, it was all about power and speed, and while Cherry had plenty of both, Roberto had more.

  He cornered her, and my heart squeezed so painfully that the sweat on my forehead dripped down my temple. If he managed to get her in a place where she couldn’t escape, she would be done for.

  Roberto tensed, his tell just before he flew into one of his infamous combos, but before a single punch could fly, Cherry grabbed one of the ropes for leverage and vaulted to the left of Roberto, landing out of reach.

  My frayed nerve endings jangled, and I stood there, shocked, as the crowd went absolutely wild. Cherry used the surprise to retreat to the middle of the ring, and I was grateful that she remembered she couldn’t punch her opponent’s back or deliver any sort of blows while using the ropes as leverage. Andre really had taught her well.

  Roberto rounded on her, respect evident across his features. He took a single step forward, but then the bell rang. The first round was over.

  I heaved a sigh of relief that ran through my entire body, barely resisting the urge to go over to her corner and make sure she drank enough and was otherwise level-headed. I took deep breaths as I watched Andre coach her. But the respite was short-lived. Too soon, she was marching back toward the center as round two was starting.

  Just like her first fight, Cherry never wavered, never seemed unsure or doubtful. But unlike her first fight, she
wasn’t dominating. In fact, in the first round she hadn’t thrown a single blow, and as the second round ticked on, it was turning out to be much the same.

  I could feel the crowd getting restless, and I began to pace in the aisle between the spectators. I had too much energy trapped within me, the stress of it building to a suffocating frenzy. I wanted to punch something, run a mile. Anything to get the storm brewing inside of me out so I could concentrate.

  The round ended without either of them landing a single hit, and there were no cheers when the bell rang.

  How fickle the love of a crowd.

  But Cherry was already a third of the way to her goal. Didn’t these people realize how amazing that was? If they didn’t, I prayed they would soon. I wanted each and every one of them to know the fierce warrior that she was.

  The third round bell rang, and Cherry rushed out to the middle of the ring to meet Roberto. Then the moment I had been dreading happened.

  Roberto lashed out with a vicious jab, and Cherry couldn’t move in time. She blocked, but the sheer power of the blow turned her sideways, allowing him a clear cross right to her ribs. Thud.

  The crowd went utterly silent.

  Stunned, I involuntarily took a step forward before catching myself.

  Cherry stumbled backward, while Roberto quickly advanced.

  My stomach churned, and I wanted to close my eyes, not watch what was probably going to be the end of the fight.

  Roberto sent out another unbelievably fast punch, but Cherry stepped into it while turning to the side. Somehow, that was just enough for his blow to miss.

  While his arm was extended, she delivered four rapid punches to the top of his ribs, just under his armpit.

  The crowd went mad, hooting and screaming as Roberto danced away to the ropes. His face hardened, and his muscles tensed, the set of his brow growing much more serious. It was like someone punched me in the gut when I realized that he had probably been taking it easy because he’d underestimated Cherry.

  That clearly wasn’t going to happen anymore.

  He advanced on her like a bolt of lightning, punches flying.

  Cherry did a great job of dodging and blocking, but she was hard pressed to dodge all of them, and I could see the red marks that would develop into welts and bruises on her arms as he pummeled her.

  The audience was absolutely living for it, but I felt sick. How was I going to survive her actually making it to the professionals when I got so messed up about a relatively tame fight? Whatever was wrong with me, I needed to get over it.

  The round ended and another began, with Cherry mostly dodging blows. But every once in a while, she landed a flurry of punches that left the man reeling for a second or more. Cherry may not have had the same power as him, but she was relentless, whittling him down bit by bit.

  And then, the round ended, and we were coming up on round five. She had done it!

  Both of them were breathing hard as they went to their corners, and my own breath rushed out of me in a whoosh. I’d never seen a professional go so long without a bloody face, but the crowd still seemed plenty entertained, which was the whole point here.

  But Cherry was tiring. When round five began, I could see the way her guard was lowering second by second. She was moving with much less speed.

  Roberto swung.

  Landed a punch square to her solar plexus.

  She fell backward, nearly in slow motion, and landed in a sitting position.

  This time, I did start forward but forced my feet to stop moving before I made it ringside.

  According to regulations, Cherry had ten seconds to get up unaided. If she was smart, she would take a few seconds of rest, then slowly rise, allowing her body the most time possible to recover from the blow she’d just taken.

  Ten.

  She flinched at the start of the count. Hunter’s hand came down on my arm and clenched, holding me there.

  Nine.

  She blinked, the dazed look leaving her eyes.

  Eight.

  Clenched her fists.

  Seven.

  Took a deep breath.

  Six.

  Made eye contact with me. Fuck, she was beautiful. My cock jumped as it recalled the last time I’d seen her on a mat.

  Five.

  One side of her lip quirked up as I willed her every ounce of strength in my body.

  Four.

  She rose, slowly, each muscle stretching out into a long, fine, lean, and ready fighter’s body.

  The fight resumed, Hunter and I shouting as Cherry managed to land the first face blow of the match, a solid punch right to the side of Roberto’s jaw.

  The crowd was absolutely beside themselves now. Cherry had won them over, exactly as she had hoped to. Without a doubt, the fighting forums would be abuzz tomorrow with the woman who took on Roberto De La Matta and not only survived five, going on six rounds but thrived.

  But then she made a fatal mistake. I saw it a split second before the blow landed, and if she did by then, it was too late.

  Roberto landed a crushing blow square to her face, and once more she was tumbling backward.

  She somehow stayed on her feet, blood pouring from her nose, dripping over her full lips and spattering her top. She swayed for a moment but managed to recover.

  I could tell she was struggling to stay on her feet. My insides clenched to know she had to be in pain. I knew from experience that the blood was no doubt distracting, making her reactions slower and her dodges less effective. Every passing second put me on edge.

  I heard the audience cheering and screaming through a mental fog, my eyes locked on Cherry as she continued to struggle.

  With only seconds left in the round, Roberto delivered a punch straight to her jaw.

  Her head snapped back, and she fell, her body hitting the mat with a resounding thud.

  It took everything in me to hold myself back and let the ref count, as concern for her and relief that it was over made my hands shake. As soon as the count ended, I was striding to the ring, ready to carry her to the on-site medical room.

  Her eyes blinked open just then, and the ref helped her slowly get to her feet.

  Roberto walked up to her, took off his glove and offered her his hand. Cherry sent him the brightest smile I had ever seen and shook it enthusiastically, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from her.

  The stadium was on their feet, people clapping and screaming like mad. Cameras flashed, and music boomed over the speakers.

  She had done it. She hadn’t won, but she’d made a name for herself, and she wasn’t even professional yet. Now, all we had to do was sit back and let word of mouth do its job.

  After I took her to the medic, of course.

  To my disappointment, Andre was in the ring first, arms around her waist as he helped her limp down to the ground and out of pandemonium. She may have lost, but it certainly didn’t feel that way as I followed after them.

  Cherry caught sight of me, craning her neck to look back at me with one eye already starting to swell shut. “Did you see?” she asked through her split upper lip.

  “Yeah, I did. And so did everyone else.”

  There was that dazzling smile again, making the intensity of my fear melt, giving way to pride building in my chest, and something else…

  I would never understand how I had stumbled across possibly the most amazing woman to ever walk the Earth, and I was suddenly staring down the fact that she was the type who would want more than what I was willing or able to give. Cherry was fire and passion and everything that I desired in a partner — if I wanted a partner, which I didn’t.

  I couldn’t allow myself that. How could I when Lillie was out there somewhere living under an overpass or waiting in line at a soup kitchen? The time I would spend with a partner would be precious hours taken away from time I could be spending trying to find her. Plus, I didn’t deserve to be happy while my twin lived in misery. Not after what I did…

  Hunter clapped Cherry on th
e back, and I had the sudden urge to slap his hand away. “Congrats. Now let these people fix you up.” His hand moved to my shoulder. “See you Monday, bro. Nice work.”

  We headed into the med-room, and the doctor from the sign-ups smiled. “Ah, Cherry Bomb.” He looked her over, pressing on her ribs, feeling for broken or cracked bones. “I have to admit, you’re a lot less battered than I thought you would be.”

  She gave him a superior glare, considering how much blood was on her puffy and bruised features. “You thought I’d go down on my ass in the first round,” she said, slurring just slightly. It might have been amusing if it wasn’t for the fact that she was loopy from a literal blow to the face and loss of consciousness. “I sure showed you!” She laughed then winced.

  “Yeah, yeah you did. Consider it a lesson learned. Now, do me a favor and try to follow my finger here.” He went through a series of tests, which Cherry passed.

  I was suddenly exhausted from the tension I’d held on to throughout the fight. But as the seconds passed, and Cherry’s adrenaline wore off, I saw the pain set in. She didn’t complain, but the lines of her face hardened despite their swelling, and the muscles in her body tensed.

  I disliked seeing her in pain even more than I disliked seeing someone punch at her.

  The doctor asked her a question, and she shook her head fiercely then groaned at the sensation.

  “Take it easy the next few days. You have to rest to heal.”

  “Okey dokey artichokey.” She giggled, a sound I’d never heard her make. When her eyes locked with mine, then traveled down my body, I could see she was thinking of jumping my bones for celebration. I snorted. She’d only had her brain jiggled a little. Besides, once the adrenaline was totally gone, all she’d be able to think about was an ice pack.

  With every passing moment, my worry eased as she returned to her normal self, only glowing. She was happy at what she had accomplished, thrilled even, that much was obvious. Triumph looked very good on her, even if that victory had come in the form of a loss.

  When she was all patched up, still grinning despite her purpling lips, she carefully stood and put her hands on her hips. “Thank you. Andre, I’ll see you tomorrow for our next session?”