Let Me by Cecy Robson

Author:Cecy Robson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, New Adult & College, Contemporary, Sports
Publisher: Cecy Robson, LLC
Published: 2016-04-18T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Finn

MMA followers in general are loud, fanatical, and so full of energy you can feel it. Tonight is no different. Everyone is pumped and eager for more action and blood, their need for it luring me to the octagon like a predator to its prey.

I’m ready. I’m willing. I’ve got this.

The moment I yank my T-shirt on, I head for the door. I know Sol’s scared, and I hate that she is. But right now the best I can do to assure her is to step into the octagon and get the job done.

I don’t get far.

Kill steps in front of me, blocking my way. His expression is hard, bordering on pissed. “Look, Finn. I don’t believe the shit Angus says about tonight being cursed.”

“Good,” I tell him. “Cause I don’t either.”

He doesn’t move, and suddenly Curran is there, too. “What’s the problem?” I ask. Jesus, the adrenaline pumping through my bloodstream has me jumping in place. I need to move, not keep still and hear more of Angus’s superstitious bullshit.

Kill works his jaw. “I don’t want you to put on a show tonight.”

“What?” I ask, thinking he’s lost his mind.

Here’s the thing, MMA isn’t staged, it isn’t fixed, but the promoters like the drama. It stirs the crowd, gets fans talking, fills seats, and makes everyone more money. Men, they have to show what they’re made of, they have to show off their moves, bash skulls, and talk trash. The women, that’s a whole different level of drama. They get personal, vindictive, and nasty. But either way you slice it, you’re putting on a show.

“It could cost me the title match,” I point out.

Sumar Okafe just moved up from ninth to fourth for the lightweight title. When I win tonight, it will take me from seventh to the number one spot based on my opponent’s rank. Technically this puts me next in line for the belt. The problem is, Sumar has a big mouth and a bigger attitude.

Following his win last week, Sumar ran out into the audience and called out the champ, the champ’s woman, and his mother in front of a capacity crowd. Fans and fighters alike lost their shit all over social media, calling Sumar disrespectful, which the asshole is. But because of what he did―and because he stole the champ’s belt during the press conference that followed, fans of the champ are demanding he pummel his ass―which means they’ll pay big money to see it. If I don’t put on a big enough show, asshole or not, Sumar is going to get that title bout before I do.

“I don’t care about that right now,” Kill says.

My scowl deepens. “As my manager and my brother, you damn well should.”

“It’s not always about the money, Finnie,” he says.

“You’re right,” I grind out. “It’s also about getting what I deserve.”

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve a shot at the title. God knows you’ve earned it,” he says. “Just keep cool and stick with the plan.” He motions out the door, ignoring the reps beating on the door, telling me I’m needed out now.

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