Tonight, because Merrick was the contender, he’d enter the ring first. When the lights dimmed and the first strains of Merrick’s entry song began, goose bumps chased up Elle’s arms. She yanked her gaze up the aisle, straining to get a glimpse of Merrick when he appeared.
His nickname still made her giggle. Merrick “The Hit Man” Sullivan. It sounded so…mafia. But he’d gained the nickname because it was said he had lead fists and, with one well-placed punch, could drop a much larger guy like a stone.
Merrick began his jaunt down to the ring, surrounded by Dakota, Cade, Dallas and Charlie along with several security guards. He looked loose, but more important, he looked focused and calm. Confident.
He walked by Elle without a glance, something she didn’t take offense to. His gaze was riveted to the ring, and she doubted he even saw her. This was one time she wanted to be invisible. She wanted nothing to distract him from his goal.
The crowd roared when Merrick was introduced, and Merrick raised his gloved hands in the air, rotating in a 360, inciting the crowd to yell even louder.
Her heart surged with pride. This was her man.
Her gaze slid to Cade a short distance from Merrick, at the confidence in his eyes. Confidence radiated from every member of Merrick’s camp. Then, to her surprise, Cade found her in the crowd, and he winked at her.
Not caring who saw or what they made of it, she blew Cade a kiss. To her utter shock, Merrick turned, touched two fingers to his lips and then extended his arm toward her.
Her heart felt like it was going to explode right out of her chest. Automatically she blew him a kiss in return, and he made a show of catching it and pressing it to his chest.
It was so deeply romantic and public that her knees threatened to turn to jelly.
Once again the lights went down, dousing the arena in darkness. The spotlight swung to where Lash was making his appearance, and the crowd erupted just as the first strains of his music began blaring.
Her stomach twisted into nervous knots. Lash was huge. And mean-looking. He looked intensely focused and ready to tear Merrick apart.
The belt he wore around his waist shone in the spotlight. He took his time walking down the pathway to the ring and stopped for the referee to check his gloves. Then he stepped into the ring, and the announcer began the impressive introduction of the World’s Heavyweight Champion.
Elle felt like she wanted to puke. She wasn’t sure she could watch this.
When the two men met in the center of the ring, Elle blinked, her eyes widening as she realized that Merrick was every bit as big as Lash. The champion just looked so intimidating to her, but for the first time, she looked at Merrick the way most other people likely viewed him.
He was big, heavily muscled, and he looked like a complete badass.
Would she have ever given him a second glance if they hadn’t met the way they had? If he hadn’t been so kind and gentle with her?
“Here they go!” Catherine shouted next to her.
Elle blinked again, realizing the bell had rung and the two men were dancing around each other in the ring. Oh shit. It was here. The culmination of all Merrick’s training. All his hard work. It came down to tonight. One night. One fight. Everything was on the line.
Lash landed the first punch, snapping Merrick’s head back. Elle flinched and looked away but quickly yanked her gaze back to the ring to see Merrick follow up with a flurry of punches that drove Lash back against the cage.
Her own fist curled into a tight ball, and she found herself holding her breath.
“Lash will never beat him in a boxing match,” Catherine yelled. “The only way he can win is to get Merrick on the ground. If Merrick can stay on his feet, he’ll win this quickly.”
Elle grabbed hold of Catherine’s confidence and held tightly to it. She was so nervous and uptight that each second was an eternity. She’d never felt so miserable in her life. The anticipation was agony. The knowledge that one lucky punch could kill Merrick’s dreams. One slip and Lash could get him in a hold, forcing him to tap.
Merrick drew blood with a forceful jab, opening up a cut on Lash’s cheek. But then Lash landed a left hook that sent Merrick reeling back, and Elle saw blood above Merrick’s left eye.
Shit.
Lash made several attempts to take Merrick down, but each time, Merrick sprawled, making it impossible for the other man to take him to the mat. It was obvious that Lash was getting frustrated, and Elle saw it as a positive sign that Merrick was still focused and calm.
At thirty seconds left in the first round, Merrick went for the kill shot, and Lash dodged and lunged forward, slamming Merrick onto the mat. Elle’s throat hurt, and she realized she’d yelled at the top of her lungs the moment Merrick went down.
“He’s okay. He’s okay,” Catherine hollered next to her ear. “Lash doesn’t have his back. He doesn’t have position.”
The two men scrambled and rolled, a flurry of bodies as they grappled, twisted and turned. Merrick suffered a series of blows to the head and side that had Elle wincing.
She turned anxiously to the clock, counting down the seconds until the end of the round.
Hold on. Hold on.
The chant echoed through her mind as she watched, unable to look away as Merrick’s blood smeared onto the mat.
Finally the bell sounded, and the referee pulled Lash off Merrick. Merrick rolled to his feet, quickly jumping up. Elle wasn’t sure if he truly wasn’t affected by the pounding he’d just taken or if he just wanted to get into Lash’s head by making him think he wasn’t.
She watched as Dakota got in front of him, talking earnestly and gesturing. Cade handed Merrick water, and Dallas watched closely as the ringside doctor assessed the cut over Merrick’s eye and applied Vaseline to stop the bleeding.
“What is Dakota saying to him?” Elle asked anxiously.
“He’s just pumping him up. Telling him to stay on his feet and not to let Lash take him down. Merrick keeps the advantage if he stays off the mat.”
“Who won that round?”
Catherine’s lips tightened. “I don’t know. It was close. It might go to Lash because of that last thirty seconds. He landed a lot of punches, and he gets points for the takedown.”
“Damn,” Elle swore.
Catherine burst out laughing. “I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say a cuss word. Stick with us, kid. We’ll have you swearing like a sailor before long.”
All too soon, the bell rang, signaling the start of the second round. Lash came out with more determination, calmer, more focused. He seemed to have gotten his frustration under control, and he looked…cold and deadly.
Merrick appeared unruffled. But the cut above his eye bothered Elle. The fact that Lash had made him bleed. It didn’t matter that there was as much of Lash’s blood coating the mat as there was of Merrick’s. She saw only Merrick’s, and she flinched with every blow that Lash landed.
“I give that round to Merrick,” Catherine said, edging close to Elle when the second round was over.”
“I wish it was over,” Elle said, her stomach in a vicious knot. “I wish he’d knock him out so this would be over!”
“You and me both!”
The third round, Merrick started to show wear. Up to then, he’d been fresh, almost robotically so. Untouchable. He moved slower, and Lash, sensing his opponent’s change in strength, began pressing. Taking him to the mat more. Merrick bounced up. Lash took him down.
In the fourth round, Merrick showed a resurgence, and Lash began to fray. Elle was beside herself. She knew many fights went the full five rounds, but they were often brutal, bloody matches of endurance.