“Such an asshole,” Pete says in disgust.
The last time I had the displeasure of watching Scorpion come out to fight, Remington threw the fight to rescue Nora from that disgusting specimen of a man. And Nora, where is she now? What is Scorpion doing to her? Remington told me to trust him, and I do, but my fear is so great as I look into the face of that disgusting nightmare, every ounce of reason in me has fled. It’s impossible to silence the frantic screaming in my mind, telling me that Remington is going to get hurt tonight. He’s going to get hurt and once again, you can’t stop it! You can’t do anything about it!
Suddenly, I spot Nora across the stands, and an awful anger and hurt sweep through me as she carefully avoids my gaze.
Scorpion jumps up to the ring, and as his team removes his robe, the extra-large black scorpion he seems to have recently tattooed all across his back greets the crowd as he turns around to let everyone see it. The guy is still uglier than someone’s asshole, and I feel a perverse pleasure seeing that scar on his terrible face courtesy of Remy.
“The good news is, he’s still disgusting,” Pete says.
“Pete, I can’t believe my sister would be clear and free of him and then go back to that. It makes me sick.” I steal another glance at Nora across the ring, and her betrayal cuts me like a knife.
“It’s not what you think, Brooke,” Pete tells me, then nods at the ring. “Your guy’s got it. Just wait and see.”
“What do you mean?” I ask in bewilderment, but if Pete answers, I don’t hear.
Scorpion just turned in Nora’s direction, and she looks up at him with a somber expression that doesn’t really strike me as the look of a love-struck young woman. Then he jerks around to look at me, only to lift his middle finger in the air. Straight at me.
“Oh boy, Brooke, for the love of—”
I lift both my middle fingers in reply, and the beast smiles his yellow smile at me.
Pete gasps and groans as if in digestive pain. “All right, if Remington knows he just flipped you off and you just flipped him . . .”
“Booooo!” people instantly yell, and he shows them the bird too, along with his yellow smile, and as if that isn’t gross enough, he also grabs his groin and squeezes. “BOOOOO!!” the crowd yells.
God, I can’t understand why my sister would be with such a specimen! She used to be so romantic. She used to want a prince. And she goes with Scorpion?
“And challenging our champion tonight, we all know his name! We are all waiting to see if he’s gonna bring it to this ring tonight. So . . . is he? Get rrrready to welcome the one and only Remingtooooooon Tate, yourrr Riiiiiptide!!”
It’s impossible to quell the lightning bolt that runs through me on hearing his name. It had been noisy when Scorpion came out. But the way people start yelling for Remington makes my throat close with emotion and my heart jerk inside my chest.
“Rem-ing-ton! Rem-ing-ton!”
The chant tears through the crowd. The color red takes over the entire arena. Then I see the one spot of red that I’m dying to see as his shouted name surrounds me as completely as his color does. “Remyyyyy, kill him, Remyyyy!” “Go, Rrrrrriptide!”
My body functions heighten in every way. My lungs, my heart, my adrenals, my eyes, every part of me strains for him. The instant he comes trotting into the arena, I’m spun in a whirlwind of nervousness, fear, and excitement. I’m torn between the urge to usher him to safety and the want to cheer him on like the rest of his fans do, to let him know that I know if anyone owns that ring, it’s him.
With one easy leap, he takes the ring and immediately lets Riley pull his robe from his shoulders. I swear I hear a collective sigh from the women close to me.
“Remyyyyyyy! Kill him, Remy!!” one shouts.
And then, the amazing happens.
He starts with his signature cocky turn. All his muscles are glorious, tan, and hard, and I hear a woman scream nearby that his body should be immortalized, it is so masculine and perfect. Then he looks at me. Blue eyes shining. The bluest of the blue. His dimples flash, and I realize with a shuddering in my heart that this is what Coach meant about his blue coming back. His eyes are blue. Clear, beautiful, brilliant blue. Those eyes and dimples talk directly to the butterflies in my stomach, and I explode with them.
A frenzy of emotion shoots through me, and suddenly I know, with every fiber in my being, he’s got this. He does. He is Remington Tate. He’s a man who falls and gets up again and again. He pushes, plows, plunders, goes on. He’s. Got. This. I remember who he is. Where his drive comes from, some unnamable source that nobody in this world possesses. He is unconquerable and unbeatable—and he is going to crush Scorpion, just like he’s wanted to.