looked ready to press the issue, but then just nodded.
“You won’t find it offensive if I offered you good luck?”
Given the fact that Alexis needed all the help she could get, Alexis answered, “Not at all.”
CHAPTER 2
The rope from the ring bit into Travis Dekker’s callused hands. Two of his students sparred in front of him. Well, attempted to spar. This was supposed to be MMA fighting. It was more like a kindergarten karate class. But that is what you got when you lost control in the ring, as he had. The crowds that once cheered you on to victory threw you out into the cold.
The cold world where a once-great champion was forced to teach those so far inferior. The gym was filled with them. While these two attempted to spar, the mats behind him were filled with equally eager but inept wannabes. Dekker could hear the sound of punches hitting the bags. Never quite as satisfying as hitting flesh though, he could tell you.
Gritting his teeth, Dekker watched as Bull grazed his sparring partner’s face with a weak backfist. Both men’s breaths came in gasps, and they dragged their feet as they circled the ring. Bull’s opponent, Mitch, retaliated with a front kick. His stance weak, guard dropped, Bull sidestepped the kick, sweeping Mitch’s leg. His opponent stumbled, but righted himself.
Dekker had seen enough. Slow and sloppy. What they needed were quick jabs and pivots. Go in for the kill. Otherwise, what else were they doing here? This wasn’t some Zen Buddhist kung fu, “only learn to fight to protect yourself,” crap. This was fighting to win .
“Hold!” Dekker shouted. The room silenced at his command. Students practicing on the floor stopped and snapped to attention. All eyes riveted on Dekker.
Dekker jumped down from ringside and landed lightly on the floor. He surveyed the sorry group in front of him.
“What kind of pussy moves are you practicing?” Angrily, he flung his arm toward Bull and Mitch in the ring. “This isn’t some spiritual mecca we’re on. We’re here to kick some ass .”
Some murmured in agreement, but most held their tongues—uncertain of which way the wind blew. Well, if you wanted the wind to make up your mind, you weren’t ready for the shit storm coming at you.
“If you can’t give me all you’ve got and then some, there’s the door.” Dekker jabbed his finger toward the exit as a twenty something brunette strolled in. Her face was wary at the silence in the room. She wore snug jeans and a T-shirt, and her face was pretty but not stunning. She must be lost, because she definitely didn’t look like the type to date the crew in this room.
Focusing his attention back on the group, Dekker stated, “I’m dead serious. If you aren’t up to taking me on, then get out. Now.”
Dekker glared at each man in turn. He had to give them credit. Only a couple backed away, their heads bowed. The rest stood their ground, even with the threat of getting their butts handed back to them.
Dekker gave a curt nod. “Good. That means the rest of you are ready to fight. What is the first rule of combat?” Dekker looked up into the ring. “Bull?”
Bull vaulted over the rope and stepped in front of Dekker. At six feet and two hundred fifty pounds, he was still a few inches shorter than Dekker and without nearly as much muscle.
“Get to your opponent first,” Bull answered.
Dekker paced back and forth, glaring at his students. “And how would I do that?”
“First, you would take the offense …”
Dekker slammed a back kick into Bull’s stomach, taking him off guard and off his feet. Bull’s breath came out in a grunt as he hit the floor. Dekker spun, getting Bull in a chokehold. Bull frantically clawed at Dekker’s arm, twisting and turning on the floor, trying to break free.
A satisfied smile spread across Dekker’s face.
“Something like that, Bull?” he asked as the muscles on his arms bunched under the pressure he exerted on his
“You won’t find it offensive if I offered you good luck?”
Given the fact that Alexis needed all the help she could get, Alexis answered, “Not at all.”
CHAPTER 2
The rope from the ring bit into Travis Dekker’s callused hands. Two of his students sparred in front of him. Well, attempted to spar. This was supposed to be MMA fighting. It was more like a kindergarten karate class. But that is what you got when you lost control in the ring, as he had. The crowds that once cheered you on to victory threw you out into the cold.
The cold world where a once-great champion was forced to teach those so far inferior. The gym was filled with them. While these two attempted to spar, the mats behind him were filled with equally eager but inept wannabes. Dekker could hear the sound of punches hitting the bags. Never quite as satisfying as hitting flesh though, he could tell you.
Gritting his teeth, Dekker watched as Bull grazed his sparring partner’s face with a weak backfist. Both men’s breaths came in gasps, and they dragged their feet as they circled the ring. Bull’s opponent, Mitch, retaliated with a front kick. His stance weak, guard dropped, Bull sidestepped the kick, sweeping Mitch’s leg. His opponent stumbled, but righted himself.
Dekker had seen enough. Slow and sloppy. What they needed were quick jabs and pivots. Go in for the kill. Otherwise, what else were they doing here? This wasn’t some Zen Buddhist kung fu, “only learn to fight to protect yourself,” crap. This was fighting to win .
“Hold!” Dekker shouted. The room silenced at his command. Students practicing on the floor stopped and snapped to attention. All eyes riveted on Dekker.
Dekker jumped down from ringside and landed lightly on the floor. He surveyed the sorry group in front of him.
“What kind of pussy moves are you practicing?” Angrily, he flung his arm toward Bull and Mitch in the ring. “This isn’t some spiritual mecca we’re on. We’re here to kick some ass .”
Some murmured in agreement, but most held their tongues—uncertain of which way the wind blew. Well, if you wanted the wind to make up your mind, you weren’t ready for the shit storm coming at you.
“If you can’t give me all you’ve got and then some, there’s the door.” Dekker jabbed his finger toward the exit as a twenty something brunette strolled in. Her face was wary at the silence in the room. She wore snug jeans and a T-shirt, and her face was pretty but not stunning. She must be lost, because she definitely didn’t look like the type to date the crew in this room.
Focusing his attention back on the group, Dekker stated, “I’m dead serious. If you aren’t up to taking me on, then get out. Now.”
Dekker glared at each man in turn. He had to give them credit. Only a couple backed away, their heads bowed. The rest stood their ground, even with the threat of getting their butts handed back to them.
Dekker gave a curt nod. “Good. That means the rest of you are ready to fight. What is the first rule of combat?” Dekker looked up into the ring. “Bull?”
Bull vaulted over the rope and stepped in front of Dekker. At six feet and two hundred fifty pounds, he was still a few inches shorter than Dekker and without nearly as much muscle.
“Get to your opponent first,” Bull answered.
Dekker paced back and forth, glaring at his students. “And how would I do that?”
“First, you would take the offense …”
Dekker slammed a back kick into Bull’s stomach, taking him off guard and off his feet. Bull’s breath came out in a grunt as he hit the floor. Dekker spun, getting Bull in a chokehold. Bull frantically clawed at Dekker’s arm, twisting and turning on the floor, trying to break free.
A satisfied smile spread across Dekker’s face.
“Something like that, Bull?” he asked as the muscles on his arms bunched under the pressure he exerted on his
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