Page 63 of Shifting Gears

The dim lights of the parking garage illuminated our path as we made our way to the street. No one paid us any attention until we came to a stop at the front entrance to the club. A bouncer looked us over, and I told him we had a match tonight. With a quick check on his phone, he nodded and let us inside.

The sounds of music filled the stairway as we made our way down into the main room.

It was already packed. And perched in his own version of a throne at the edge of the center of the ring was the target of my vengeance himself.

Kaito sat with other men, all dressed in ridiculously meticulous suits with sexy women wearing barely anything hovering around, bringing them drinks and food.

He didn’t even look in our direction as we made our way to the space where fighters warmed up. There were so many faces here I didn’t recognize. I now regretted not insisting I come with Raven when she and Touma had fought here. I felt out of place and completely on edge.

I was taken by surprise when an arm wrapped around my waist and tugged me backward. I twisted to try to see who had grabbed me and sighed when I saw it was AJ.

“What are you doing?” I gritted out as he pulled me to a dark corner behind some punching bags and pinned me against a wall.

“Helping you to not blow your grand plan. You looked like you were about to run across that ring and stab him where hesat. Just chill, baby. Watch me fight,” AJ murmured in my ear as he blocked me from view.

I realized then exactly how much his presence centered my energy and nerves. As much as he could agitate me, I was glad it was him by my side.

“You’re right. I was thinking about how great it would be to take him out right now. Thanks for snapping me out of that.” I gave his chest a gentle shove. “I’m good now, thanks. Besides, you should warm up. Your match is only a few minutes away, and I have a bet to go place.” I gave him a small smile, trying to assure him I was going to be fine.

He waited another moment before backing away and walking into a space to stretch. I made my way over to the betting cage, placing all the money I’d won on AJ’s last few matches on him tonight. His odds were decent. When he won, I wouldn’t make much more than I was betting. Even so, a win was a win.

The announcer gave a five-minute warning for the start of the match, and people made their way to the seats. I walked over to the gate where AJ would walk out of, finding him there, waiting for me.

“Are you ready?” I asked as I looked him over.

I tried to hand him a bottle of water, but he declined it.

He nodded. “Like I said, don’t worry about me. Relax and enjoy the show.”

Easy for him to say.

I would still try to relax a little more, as impossible as that might be.

The announcer called AJ’s challenger into the ring. He was his toughest opponent yet, and as he punched and kicked the air as he got to the middle, he seemed calm.

And so did AJ as he pushed through the gate as the announcer’s arm swung in his direction.

“The Akumaaaa!”

The cage door slammed behind him with a sound that struck a chord with the crowd. A new fighter, one whose name had slowly circulated in the shadows, was now standing in front of them.

Across from AJ stood a man with scars over his torso. Cold eyes. Bald head. Thick neck. The kind of fighter who didn’t need to puff his chest. He’d been doing this for a long time. They called him Lockjaw, and the second I saw how tight his guard was, I knew why.

The announcer started the fight and stepped back as they circled one another. The crowd was loud, but my focus narrowed to AJ and his opponent. Lockjaw didn’t rush. He waited. AJ jabbed first, testing his distance. He didn’t flinch. When AJ stepped in with a feint and tried to catch him with a hook, Lockjaw swatted it and countered with a leg kick that rattled AJ’s side. He grunted as the crowd cheered, and then he adjusted his stance.

I gripped the edge of the gate as I watched the first two minutes—fakes, movement, light shots. Then Lockjaw switched it up and shot in low. AJ sprawled, but not fast enough. He caught his leg and slammed AJ into the mat. I flinched as AJ’s spine hit the concrete under the thin padding on the floor and Lockjaw’s fist came down like a hammer.

I gasped as AJ blocked the first hit, then ate the second on his jaw. My ears rang, and my blood pounded as I watched them.

AJ twisted and reversed, using momentum to throw him off just enough to scramble to his feet.

Something in AJ changed. His body language went loose, and there was no doubt about it—now he was pissed.

Lockjaw attacked again, throwing a fast combo—jab, cross, elbow. AJ ducked under, pivoted, and landed a body shot so clean that it echoed, and the crowd went silent. Lockjaw grunted and threw a knee that nearly took the wind out of AJ, but hegritted through it and cracked Lockjaw with a right that made his head snap.

He blinked, backing up. AJ pressed in, using his advantage.

AJ had found his rhythm. Body, head, body. Slipping Lockjaw’s punches, weaving around him.

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