Read Online Flow (The Beat and the Pulse #6) by Amity Cross - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amity Cross
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prepare myself for the fight that was going down in the next twenty minutes. Striding through the crowd, I pushed into the fighter-only area and into the changing rooms with one thing on my mind. Smashing Storm’s face in.
I came to a halt just inside the room and raised my eyebrows at the scene before me. A group of men was huddled together, talking earnestly among themselves, but it was the ringleader who had me curling my lip in distaste.
In the middle of the wall of testosterone was Storm himself, his hair still conspicuously wet, lording it up like a king. I eyed Rebel across the room, and he shrugged. Rebel was a good guy and equal first in the rankings with me for the Championship. If I lost to him, I wouldn’t mind because he was the only other bloke in the place who seemed to adhere to good sportsmanship. That, and second place was still real good money. If I lost to any of these other idiots? Heads would roll.
Staring at the group of fighters, I narrowed my eyes. It was like the prodigal son had returned. After two years away making it big, he’d come back with his tail between his legs. He would’ve dropped out because there was no way he’d chance coming here if he had a contract. Shit, sponsors would drop him without hesitation if they knew he was fighting illegally.
Storm had been kicked out of the UFC. No doubt about it. Now he was flaunting his experience to idiots who were too stupid to go pro in the first place.
“In the welterweight, the guys are tougher,” Storm was saying. “There’s more bulk involved, so you need more skill to bring them down.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to my locker, wrenching the door open. It slammed against the one next to it, the bang echoing through the room, causing a slight lull in the dickhead’s boasting behind me.
“What do you think, Goblin?” he called out to me. “You’re the right size for welterweight.”
I knew he was taking a dig, trying to get me to bite, but the only place he was getting his head knocked off was inside the cage in the next fifteen minutes. Instead, I pulled out the wraps from my bag, shoved my thumb through the loop, and began wrapping up my left hand.
Voices murmured behind me, and I went on, ignoring the lot of them. That was until a hand came to rest on the locker beside mine.
“Well… Goblin? ”
“I have a fight to get ready for,” I drawled, not even looking up. “Which is what you should be doin’ since you’re drawn with me.”
Storm laughed and glanced over his shoulder. Leaning close, he muttered, “So I hear you and Lori are a thing.”
My jaw tensed, and this time, I glanced at the little fucker. “I also heard the way you spoke to her.”
“Sorry, man,” he said, smiling like an arrogant little tosser. “If I’d known you two were fucking…”
“We’re not fuckin’,” I said, fixing the Velcro closure around my wrist. “We’re friends, and I’m lookin’ out for her.”
“A man can’t be just friends with a woman like Lori,” he said, adjusting his cock. “She’s something, all right.”
A stab of jealousy shot through my chest, and I snorted. Storm wasn’t done with her even after she’d made it absolutely clear she wanted nothing to do with the guy. He was still an arrogant asshole, and I was itching for our fight to start so I could pound some sense into his thick skull.
“So what happened with the UFC?” I asked, turning the tables. Storm’s eyes narrowed, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. “If you’re under contract, it’d be a shame for them to find out you were fightin’ here.”
“I’m done with the UFC,” he replied, his voice sounding thin with restraint.
I smirked and began wrapping my right hand. “Yeah? That’s a real shame, brother.”
He slammed his fist against the locker and stalked off, hopefully someplace far away where he could work himself up into a ball of rage. An overly angry opponent in the cage was easier to work than a level-headed one,
I came to a halt just inside the room and raised my eyebrows at the scene before me. A group of men was huddled together, talking earnestly among themselves, but it was the ringleader who had me curling my lip in distaste.
In the middle of the wall of testosterone was Storm himself, his hair still conspicuously wet, lording it up like a king. I eyed Rebel across the room, and he shrugged. Rebel was a good guy and equal first in the rankings with me for the Championship. If I lost to him, I wouldn’t mind because he was the only other bloke in the place who seemed to adhere to good sportsmanship. That, and second place was still real good money. If I lost to any of these other idiots? Heads would roll.
Staring at the group of fighters, I narrowed my eyes. It was like the prodigal son had returned. After two years away making it big, he’d come back with his tail between his legs. He would’ve dropped out because there was no way he’d chance coming here if he had a contract. Shit, sponsors would drop him without hesitation if they knew he was fighting illegally.
Storm had been kicked out of the UFC. No doubt about it. Now he was flaunting his experience to idiots who were too stupid to go pro in the first place.
“In the welterweight, the guys are tougher,” Storm was saying. “There’s more bulk involved, so you need more skill to bring them down.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to my locker, wrenching the door open. It slammed against the one next to it, the bang echoing through the room, causing a slight lull in the dickhead’s boasting behind me.
“What do you think, Goblin?” he called out to me. “You’re the right size for welterweight.”
I knew he was taking a dig, trying to get me to bite, but the only place he was getting his head knocked off was inside the cage in the next fifteen minutes. Instead, I pulled out the wraps from my bag, shoved my thumb through the loop, and began wrapping up my left hand.
Voices murmured behind me, and I went on, ignoring the lot of them. That was until a hand came to rest on the locker beside mine.
“Well… Goblin? ”
“I have a fight to get ready for,” I drawled, not even looking up. “Which is what you should be doin’ since you’re drawn with me.”
Storm laughed and glanced over his shoulder. Leaning close, he muttered, “So I hear you and Lori are a thing.”
My jaw tensed, and this time, I glanced at the little fucker. “I also heard the way you spoke to her.”
“Sorry, man,” he said, smiling like an arrogant little tosser. “If I’d known you two were fucking…”
“We’re not fuckin’,” I said, fixing the Velcro closure around my wrist. “We’re friends, and I’m lookin’ out for her.”
“A man can’t be just friends with a woman like Lori,” he said, adjusting his cock. “She’s something, all right.”
A stab of jealousy shot through my chest, and I snorted. Storm wasn’t done with her even after she’d made it absolutely clear she wanted nothing to do with the guy. He was still an arrogant asshole, and I was itching for our fight to start so I could pound some sense into his thick skull.
“So what happened with the UFC?” I asked, turning the tables. Storm’s eyes narrowed, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. “If you’re under contract, it’d be a shame for them to find out you were fightin’ here.”
“I’m done with the UFC,” he replied, his voice sounding thin with restraint.
I smirked and began wrapping my right hand. “Yeah? That’s a real shame, brother.”
He slammed his fist against the locker and stalked off, hopefully someplace far away where he could work himself up into a ball of rage. An overly angry opponent in the cage was easier to work than a level-headed one,
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