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“Then we’ll go to Fists of Fury, and you can show us what you got.”
“Fists of Fury?”
Thorn nods. “It’s the MMA gym owned by the club.”
I smirk. “Let’s go.”
Thorn’s gonna wish he never doubted me. I’m gonna put him on his ass.
CHAPTER 21
THORN
“She’s got brass balls, I’ll give her that.”
Smirking at Soul’s assessment, I don’t take my eyes off Delaney, who’s in the ring with Mark. She’s already taken on Knuckles, Abyss, and Spike, and she’s still going. Oh, and let’s not forget the two minutes she spent in the ring with Grim. Sure, she ended up on her ass, but she’s over a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than the big man, and she got right back up. I’m impressed but not ready to cave on using her as bait.
“I can assure you, she’s got no balls betwe?—”
“Gonna stop you right there, brother,” Soul says with a chuckle.
“You know what she’s trying to do, right?” I ask, shifting the conversation.
“Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.” Soul smacks my back. “And you made it very clear when you demanded we all come to the gym.”
I dart my gaze to my president and scowl. “We’re not using her as bait for a serial killer.”
“Seems like she can handle herself.”
“Yeah, here, in a controlled setting,” I snap. “Out there in the real world, it’s different.”
Soul narrows his eyes and tilts his head thoughtfully. “Is this about Delaney or Tamara?”
My body tenses. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m just wondering if you’re trying to make up for the past when the future is right in front of you.”
Before I can formulate a response, my name is shouted from the ring, and I look at Delaney.
“Your turn,” she says with a grin.
“You wanna fight me?” I ask incredulously.
“Chick doesn’t fight fair, Thorn,” Mark mutters as he strides past me and Soul toward the showers, his hands cupping his junk. “Watch your back with that one.”
“I fight to win, prospect,” Delaney says proudly. “Not to be fair.”
Pride swells at the way she easily and effortlessly puts Mark in his place. I try to remind myself that I don’t have the right to be proud of her, but no part of me gets the memo.
I walk to the ring and roll under the bottom rope. Hopping to my feet, I move closer to her.
“You sure about this?” I ask.
Delaney arches a brow. “Are you?”
“Bring it on, sweetheart.”
To start, I throw a left hook, knowing she’ll quickly deflect it based on how I’ve seen her fight all morning. What I don’t count on is the commotion coming from the entrance when the ol’ ladies come barreling through the door. Delaney spins around with a roundhouse kick, which she lands on my chest, and I stumble back more than I care to admit.