Read Online Her Tattooed Fighter by Jenika Snow - Free Book Online Page A

had tasted her, he was a fucking fiend for more. The feeling of someone staring daggers at him had London breaking eye contact with her and looking over at Mack. The fighter had his attention on Sunny, and then slowly turned his head back to London. Mack stared at him for a long second, and it didn’t take a genius to realize the Russian knew what the fuck was going on. Harlond was talking with another fighter, and fortunately didn’t realize what in the hell was going on. London cleared his throat, because though a confrontation was bound to happen, it wasn’t going to happen right now.   Before either of them could say anything Harlond turned his attention back to him and Mack and started talking.
    “With the fight coming up I need everyone to buckle down and quit with the bullshit.” London tore his eyes from the stare-down he currently had with Mack and looked at Harlond.
    “Bullshit?”
    “You and some of the other guys getting drunk even when you’re not training for a fight. I can’t have my best fighters coming in here hung-over. Yah feel me?”
    He couldn’t argue, because he did know better. He may earn his living fighting dirty in the underground circuit, but Harlond was right. Shit, if he hadn’t been feeling the alcohol at Taylor’s a few nights ago would he have had the balls to go after Sunny? He glanced at her again. She was working out on the treadmill once again. God, he would have in a heartbeat, because having her so close that night had been like nothing he had ever felt.
    “You feel me, London?” Harlond’s voice was stern and sharp like the crack of a whip.
    “Yeah, I understand. It won’t happen again.” That answer seemed to satisfy their trainer. He gave a sharp nod, and after another hard look from Mack, the two of them went over to the ring. He needed to take a break, and now was as good a time as any other. He let himself glance at Sunny once more and forced himself to go to the locker room. He pushed the door open and made his way to his locker. After grabbing his phone and seeing he had a text from Ross, he swiped his finger across the screen and brought it up.
    Ross: Call me. Got deets on the Lion. Call me when U got a min.
    London punched in Ross’s number, and after only two rings he answered.
    “Hey.” Ross didn’t waste any time getting out what he needed to say. “Got word on hitting it up with the Lion if you’re still in.” Whenever communicating through the phone, they never talked openly about fighting. Who knew who was listening. “Got a date and an amount, but we can talk about that in person. If you’re interested, the price is insane. Seems a lot of people think the Lion will be victorious. If you’re a go we can meet at the Den, go over the details, and set it all up.”
    London rested his elbows on his thighs and leaned forward. Even after training for six straight hours he was still juiced up. He would have thought it funny that everyone assumed this “Lion” was going to win. Over the last couple of days he had seen a few of the underground videos of the guy’s fights. There was no doubt he was a fucking machine, but he was an amateur all the way. Clearly one of those guys that had come off the street and thought they could kick ass. He was also cocky, getting the crowd into a frenzy more than he concentrated on his opponent. London wasn’t arrogant by any stretch of the imagination, but he didn’t doubt he could take the asshole. He lived for this shit, trained with sweat and blood, and was diligent. He didn’t get his undefeated title for nothing. He put everything he had into a fight, applied his anger, frustration, passion, and energy into each and every swing.
    “Yeah, sounds good.” After confirming a few more things, he hung up and let his head hang between his shoulders. The sweat on his body started to dry, and he could use a shower, but he was still too ramped up. He needed to put in a few more hours, and then he could get cleaned