Avenging Angel (Pounding Hearts 5)

I’m going to kill someone.

The referee steps into the middle of the ring and looks at Jamey and me. “You ready?”

Nodding my head, I smile a little smile for Jamey.

I’m going to hurt this motherfucker.

“Let’s get to it!” Jim yells and motions for us to start.

Time to shine.

My feet carry me across the ring faster than I thought possible as I go in for a flying knee. I miss Jamey’s face, but my knee hits his shoulder.

Spinning him sideways gives me time to snap a kick to his ribs, and the kick sends him scurrying back and away from me.

Jamey’s face may look set and pissed, but the look in his eyes says that my attack freaked him the fuck out. He wasn’t ready for me to use one of his signature moves against him—the flying knee. That’s what knocked me down the last time we fought; it also gave him the chance to fuck my shoulder up.

Grinning at him again, I stalk over to him. He’s got his elbow a little closer to his ribcage, as if he’s protecting it. He probably doesn’t know I’ve noticed, but I have.

I’m gonna use that.

Moving in, I swing for his face fully knowing he’ll block it, but he can’t block the knee I drive right into the side of him. It isn’t hard enough to break him, but this fight is going to be about picking his ass apart.

Every time he gives me a piece to chew on, I’m going to make him regret it.

We end up in a clench up against the cage walls when I’m able to throw an elbow to his eyebrow that instantly splits the skin.

I can tell it dazes him too because his eyes go a little hazy.

Pulling back and away from him to give myself enough room, I start throwing punches as hard as I can. Each one connects with either his arms, the side of his head, or his face.

I’m doing damage to him now.

Doing damage is my specialty, that’s another reason they called me the Angel. I used to fight with perfection. I was precise and efficient, and I would pick apart my opponent before they ever knew what happened.

It could also be because I’m kinda hot too.

My loss to Jamey was entirely my fault. I got sloppy, I grew a big head, and I got lazy. He took advantage of all my errors and made me pay dearly for taking the fight with him as a layup.

I took my fights as a joke toward the end. Not anymore. I know my ass still has a gut, and my abs need a lot of work.

My stomach definitely lets me know that its not ready for all the abuse its going to take when he gets in a solid foot to my side.

I hunch over and Jamey comes in charging for a knockout punch. Guarding my stomach with one arm, I’m able to get a hand up in time to deflect the blow and stop him from hitting my temple.

The instant flash of red though tells me he’s cut me over the eyebrow.

“Fucker,” I grunt as I push up against him to buy myself some time.

He keeps trying to slam an elbow up against the cut to make it bleed more. It’s dirty but not exactly illegal. He wants to blind me with enough blood that there’s either a stoppage or I can’t see exactly what he’s doing.

Pushing my shoulder into his, I wrap my arms up around his chest as I try to heave him up enough to knee him in the ribs.

Each time I get him right where I want him though, he squirms or drops a heavy elbow to my face.

“Fuck!” I shout out my frustration and then do the last thing either of us are expecting.

Sliding my arms down around his waist, I lift him up into the air.