Page 79 of A Fighter’s Love

“That’s great.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry we’re a bit late, traffic was murder. It’s nearly time to get this fight underway.”

“It is.” Jenny swallowed and was glad she’d had a glass of wine to steady her nerves. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, we’ll head over there now. Do you want me to do a build up? Welcome the crowd.”

“If you can.”

“Yes, of course I can. I love boxing. Been looking forward to this fight. And between you and me, I wouldn’t push Jackson O’Brian out of bed on a cold night. That guy has a body made for worshipping.” She giggled.

“Er, no…me neither.” Jenny frowned. A shard of possessiveness went through her. She didn’t want other women ogling her man, thinking about fucking him. He belonged to her and Dale.

But of course women, from all corners of the globe, if he continued to rise to fame in the boxing world, would admire him. He was hot, talented and sexy as hell. It was something she’d have to get used to.

Melanie slipped into the crowd. Within a minute she was on the podium, holding a microphone. “Testing. Testing.” Her voice rang around the gym. Then she turned to the audience, raised her hand and swept her gaze over the room. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the place to be this Friday night. Coming up we have the fight everyone has been waiting for. The fight to end the bitter dispute over who is the best fighter in the East End. Jackson O’Brian or Grinder Black?” She paused as the crowd cheered and huddled closer to the ring.

Jenny stayed back, and leaned against the office door. She didn’t need to see gory details.

“It’s judgement day,” Melanie went on. “And tonight you’re all going to witness the most anticipated fight this club has seen in a long time. The winner will go on to fight again, moving up the prestigious ranks. Perhaps all the way, to heavyweight champion of the world. And you, my friends,” she grinned and pointed around the room, “will be able to say you were here, tonight, when history was made.”

Another wild round of applause. Cheering, too.

“So now, without further ado,” Melanie shouted as she strutted on her podium. “Let’s get ready to rumble.”

The audience stamped and clapped. The vibrations were rushing through Jenny. She pressed her hand to her chest as the changing room door opened.

Grinder’s trainer stood there wearing a grim expression. Behind him Grinder loomed tall and wide. He had a thick black beard and a shiny bald head with a red tattoo of the devil’s face at his temple.

Jenny swallowed down a bite of fear. Sure she’d known what he looked like, had seen images of him. But in real life, he appeared to be a cross between an axe-murderer and a pirate.

“I give to you, wearing red, Grinder Black, official weight one hundred and eighty-nine pounds, with a professional record of eighteen victories, three knockouts, and two draws.”

Sudden thumping music filled the gym and the lights dimmed so the ring was in spotlight.

Grinder stepped into the room, the crowd parting to let him through.

Jenny lost sight of him as he made his way through the mass of people. The noise was deafening and rang in her ears.

Then he was in the ring. He held his arms up, showing off a mass of black underarm hair, and paced around, as if claiming his territory.

Fear seemed to infiltrate every one of Jenny’s cells. The man was a monster. He’d been bad mouthing Jackson to anyone who’d listen. And although boxers did that, what he said and how he said it was nasty and personal.

The cheering and stomping died down.

The music went off.

“And now,” Melanie yelled, “the man tipped for great things, if he can handle the heat tonight. I give to you Jackson O’Brian.”

Before she could say any more the crowd erupted.

She held up her hand and the noise calmed a fraction. “He’s officially at one hundred and eighty-two pounds, and with an impressive record of twenty-two victories, five knockouts and no draws. In purple, please give your best welcome to Jackson O’Brian.” She gestured to the changing room door.

Jackson stood there with a bright light shining on him. He wore purple silk shorts with a wide black belt. His upper body glowed with strength and his face was set in the most determined expression she’d ever seen.

He stepped out. The beat of the music seemed to shake the room as he made his way to the ring.

Dale and Michael were close behind him. And when Jackson got into the ring she saw them talking in the corner.

“And his home crowd loves him!” Melanie shouted, turning to the camera. “And what’s not to love.”

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