their bodies, his weights were damn impressive. But the dude really caught Nate’s attention after he finished the circuit and donned a pair of hammer fist gloves. Clearly the guy knew what the hell he was doing. He attacked the bag like a pro but it was the addition of a series of impressive taekwondo high/low kicks that had Nate climbing off his bike to take a closer look.
Wiping off a layer of sweat from his head and chest, Nate tossed a towel around his neck and ambled over to get up close and personal. The guy ignored him for a few minutes finishing a pattern that Nate recognized. When he was done, he stripped off the gloves and tossed them in a pile of his equipment and grabbed a towel from the shelf. Swiping at his glistening body he moved toward Nate.
Nate arched a questioning brow. “MMA?” When the guy nodded, Nate pushed, “UFC?” referring to the gold standard competition of the Mixed Martial Arts circuit.
The man shrugged as though competing in the world class competition wasn’t a feat achieved by only the most select fighters in the world.
“Yeah, didn’t get very far. It was a while back.”
Nate guffawed at the guy’s understated response and pressed. “If it was a while back you seem to have hung on to those skills.”
The guy shrugged again. “I work at it.”
Nate eyed him for a long moment, then held out his hand. “Name’s Nate Stryker.”
The man shook his hand and replied. “Sam Carter. Good to meet you.”
Jerking his head at the ring in the center of the gym, Nate queried, “You wanna go a couple rounds?”
Sam looked him over and shrugged again. “Hell, why not. You have a few pounds on me but people say I’m quick.”
Nate chuckled. “Bet you’re modest, too.”
A smile lurked at the corner of Sam’s mouth. “Probably about like you.”
Nate grinned. Already a handsome guy, Sam’s responding grin had the power of a thousand watts. Nate grabbed a pair of gloves from the rack and motioned to the headgear as he took one off the rack and strapped it on.
“I always insist my men wear it. Your call.”
Sam raised a brow and grabbed the protective gear. “Are you joking? I plan to use my brain long after this body wears out.”
Nate’s appreciation of the cultured, understated guy ratcheted up. As they climbed into the ring, he asked, “For blood or show?”
Sam laughed, a pleasant confident sound. “Hey, blood scares the hell of me. Always for show.”
They shared a laugh as Nate held down the ropes, a courteous gesture that Sam acknowledged with a pleasant nod.
It didn’t take Nate long to recognize a military trained fighter. Basic close quarter combat training was required of all soldiers. As opposed to the hard core MMA fighters, CQC relied on basic takedown and escape moves. But Sam, like Nate, had taken it to a high art going well beyond the basics required in the Army. His admiration growing, Nate would put money on the fact that the guy who was matching him kick for kick and strike for strike had been Special Forces. Both of them had a stand up style that relied more on the traditional martial arts. Nate saw elements of Taekwondo and Muay Thai in Sam’s fighting along with basic grappling techniques. For the most part they were evenly matched except that Nate held back on submission holds, knowing instinctively that was where he would take Sam if he chose. For the moment they both seemed to enjoy showing off a wide range of flashy kicks and strikes that soon had an admiring audience circling the ring. Finally no longer able to avoid a takedown, Sam conceded to Nate’s clear ground control mastery and raised his hands in acceptance.
A round of applause rang out from the cops and firefighters standing four deep around the ring. Nate agreed. It had been a long time since he had fought as talented a fighter as Sam Carter. If it hadn’t been for Nate’s superior strength, Sam could have taken him on technique alone. Nate bounced to his feet then
Wiping off a layer of sweat from his head and chest, Nate tossed a towel around his neck and ambled over to get up close and personal. The guy ignored him for a few minutes finishing a pattern that Nate recognized. When he was done, he stripped off the gloves and tossed them in a pile of his equipment and grabbed a towel from the shelf. Swiping at his glistening body he moved toward Nate.
Nate arched a questioning brow. “MMA?” When the guy nodded, Nate pushed, “UFC?” referring to the gold standard competition of the Mixed Martial Arts circuit.
The man shrugged as though competing in the world class competition wasn’t a feat achieved by only the most select fighters in the world.
“Yeah, didn’t get very far. It was a while back.”
Nate guffawed at the guy’s understated response and pressed. “If it was a while back you seem to have hung on to those skills.”
The guy shrugged again. “I work at it.”
Nate eyed him for a long moment, then held out his hand. “Name’s Nate Stryker.”
The man shook his hand and replied. “Sam Carter. Good to meet you.”
Jerking his head at the ring in the center of the gym, Nate queried, “You wanna go a couple rounds?”
Sam looked him over and shrugged again. “Hell, why not. You have a few pounds on me but people say I’m quick.”
Nate chuckled. “Bet you’re modest, too.”
A smile lurked at the corner of Sam’s mouth. “Probably about like you.”
Nate grinned. Already a handsome guy, Sam’s responding grin had the power of a thousand watts. Nate grabbed a pair of gloves from the rack and motioned to the headgear as he took one off the rack and strapped it on.
“I always insist my men wear it. Your call.”
Sam raised a brow and grabbed the protective gear. “Are you joking? I plan to use my brain long after this body wears out.”
Nate’s appreciation of the cultured, understated guy ratcheted up. As they climbed into the ring, he asked, “For blood or show?”
Sam laughed, a pleasant confident sound. “Hey, blood scares the hell of me. Always for show.”
They shared a laugh as Nate held down the ropes, a courteous gesture that Sam acknowledged with a pleasant nod.
It didn’t take Nate long to recognize a military trained fighter. Basic close quarter combat training was required of all soldiers. As opposed to the hard core MMA fighters, CQC relied on basic takedown and escape moves. But Sam, like Nate, had taken it to a high art going well beyond the basics required in the Army. His admiration growing, Nate would put money on the fact that the guy who was matching him kick for kick and strike for strike had been Special Forces. Both of them had a stand up style that relied more on the traditional martial arts. Nate saw elements of Taekwondo and Muay Thai in Sam’s fighting along with basic grappling techniques. For the most part they were evenly matched except that Nate held back on submission holds, knowing instinctively that was where he would take Sam if he chose. For the moment they both seemed to enjoy showing off a wide range of flashy kicks and strikes that soon had an admiring audience circling the ring. Finally no longer able to avoid a takedown, Sam conceded to Nate’s clear ground control mastery and raised his hands in acceptance.
A round of applause rang out from the cops and firefighters standing four deep around the ring. Nate agreed. It had been a long time since he had fought as talented a fighter as Sam Carter. If it hadn’t been for Nate’s superior strength, Sam could have taken him on technique alone. Nate bounced to his feet then
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