Knock Out (Worth the Fight) by Mannon Michele

Author:Mannon, Michele [Mannon, Michele]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2013-12-01T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

HIP THROW: When a hip is used to first knock an opponent off balance and then to flip them onto their back

“Whoo, hoo! Loving them shorts, honey!” Sal hollered, coming to stand next to him. From his position behind the black curtain, Keane had a clear view of the events unfolding on stage.

He sent an uppercut flying toward the curtain, trying miserably to ignore both the old timer and the sway of Logan’s sweet ass on display for the entire arena.

“Look at her go. That’s my girl, working the crowd and all.”

Keane kept up a steady jog. Even from this angle on the side of the stage, he could tell his eyes weren’t the only ones fixed on her ass. He sent another fist flying.

“Glad I didn’t miss this.”

“Shut up, Sal,” Keane shouted. What the hell is she doing? There was no explanation for the scene playing out on stage right now. Jerry spoke into his mic several times but the crowd’s chanting—Luscious, Luscious—drowned him out. The chanting from this crew pissed Keane off, so much so that he wanted to grab the guy with the brightest smirk from the front row and grind his nose into the stage. Right next to Jerry’s, after he got his hands on him.

Jerry had intentionally riled these animals up. He was going to pay for it, too. Although, Logan seemed to be...what the holy hell was she doing?

“What I wouldn’t give to be you for a night,” Sal muttered.

Keane tossed another jab at the curtain and picked up speed. He wished the locker room had a sauna or even a hot tub, someplace to sweat out two pounds of excess water weight.

“Jerry might have an eye for girly wear but there’s not much else good I can say about the guy.”

“Is this even legal?” Keane demanded. Furious. So much so he wished the old timer would leave him alone before he did something he’d regret. Of course that asshole’s messing with the weight requirement was illegal, and stupid beyond belief.

Nothing Keane hated more than going into a fight riddled with surprises. He’d made a habit of being careful, of evaluating ahead of time the skill level of his opponent, of weighing the odds of what the potential outcome might be. How the fight was being managed. Shit, was an honest, well-run fight too much to expect?

Why cut the weight requirement by two pounds? It didn’t add up.

“God knows, it should be. Those hips in those shorts are definitely illegal. Makes a man forget all about fighting and turn the old heart a-thumping.”

What the fuck? Keane stopped mid-stride, barely holding off on turning the old timer’s head a-thumping, and glared at the irritating man. Sal shifted nervously on his feet as awareness of his mistake dawned on him.

“Eh...um...we’re discussing Jerry. Right. Did you know about his change in venues? Waited around for a while until the kid at the smoothie bar told me about the arena.”

“That fool lowered the weight requirement to 168 pounds,” Keane said, as he began a series of jumping jacks.

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