Page 19 of Falling for the Forbidden Fighter
“I knew the second I walked in here that I’d have to fight him eventually,” he whispers. “Take off my headgear.”
“Youdefinitelydon’t have to do that.”
“Don’t worry…” He smirks. “He’s not gonna land a shot.”
When my brother says that, it’s bluster.
Louis, I believe.
I do as he says, realizing that my hands are trembling as I take off the headgear. All week, it’s just been training. Bags. Sparring. Running. Workouts that no one can get through without puking. But it was all safe, mostly.
This is real.
And I don’t want to see either of them get hurt.
“Come on!” Ricky screams. “You couldn’t make it in the Navy! You can’t make it here!”
Well, one of them has it coming.
I pound my fist against Louis’s chest. “Lay him out.”
“I’ll go easy.”
He flies past me, moving like a freed man.
Ricky explodes out of his corner, and the punches start flying before I’m even out of the ring. I join my dad on the bench, resting my head on his shoulder.
“He’s an idiot,” I sigh.
“Yeah, but he’s our idiot,” he says, “and this is the only way he’s ever learned.”
After a few testing jabs, Louis creates some distance and holds his hands behind his back.
“Come on,” he says with a wicked smile. “Maybe now you can land one.”
Ricky growls like a wild animal, completely blind with fury. He takes a big, clumsy step forward, cocks back a right hook, and—
Louis steps in sharply, bringing his left into my brother’s gut, doubling him over. He ends the fight with his own carefully placed right hook. It happens so fast that Ricky is down before we react.
“OH!” My dad jumps up and throws a towel into the ring. “All right. That’s it!”
Louis is already back in the red corner. He had no intention of doing more than what was necessary.
Ricky slams the mat, gasping. “The hell it is!”
His eye is already swelling.
“I said that’s it! You wanna push me in my own gym? Huh!?” My dad is pacing around, waving that damp cigar like a torch. “Get out of the ring, get those gloves off, and go home. Don’t come in on Monday. This is squashed. You hear me?”
Ricky rolls toward the rope, still gasping for air.
“Louis,” my dad says, exhaling. “Hell of a move, kid. That’s the speed I’m talking about.”
“He cheated!”
I’m up before Ricky can go on. “Grow up! Your opponent drops his gloves, and you think you’ve got free shots? He played you.”
“Fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book,” my dad laughs. “You should realize by now that Louis is all function and no flair. He’d never drop his gloves, not for real.”
