Page 107 of Magnetic God

“I’m not getting in the fucking ring again.”

“Even if it means saving your wife and unborn child?”

“You piece of shit.”

“You know I’m right, Henderson. Take the fucking deal and help me solve this problem.”

“And how, exactly, is getting back in the ring going to solve the problem?”

Blanc laughs. “You don’t have faith in me? I’m wounded.”

“Blanc.”

“Talk to Moretti. Keep it on the down-low. And I’ll see you in Miami.”

I glare at the wall. Fuck. He’s right. Looks like I’m going to Miami for one last stint in the ring.

31

Brooks

Hannah sits next to me backstage. Several of my colleagues stop by to congratulate us on our marriage. It’s strange how right it feels being back here, with them. I haven’t wrestled full time in years, but these people have welcomed me back with open arms.

Hannah rubs her thumb over the tattoo on my hand. The one that matches the one on the underside of her chin.

“How are you doing?” she asks in a low tone.

“Good. Nervous,” I admit.

“About the match or about the meeting?”

“Fuck the meeting. I’m nervous about the match.”

She smiles. “You’ve got this, Kitten. I’ll be out there cheering you on from the front row.”

I link my fingers through hers. “That makes it one-hundred times better.” I glance around, making sure no one is listening to us. “You remember the plan?”

“I do.”

“Swear to me that you’ll follow it.”

“I swear.”

I exhale. “Thank you. Now, give your husband a kiss.”

She pretends to think for a moment. “I suppose I can do that.”

Leaning over, she brushes her lips against mine.

“I love you, Hannah Henderson.”

“Not as much as I love you, Brooks Henderson.”

Hannah is led away to go to her seat.

I warm up with Larry, who is my opponent tonight.

“Just like old times, Brooks.”

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