I stop and swing my gaze to them, lifting my chin in greeting. My opponent is surrounded by a few guys who must be from his camp, all shit-stares and sneers. “Reece.”
“Hope you’re ready for tomorrow night, puppy dog.” He takes a few steps toward me. “I don’t plan on leaving you conscious.”
What a douche. There’s no way I’m falling for his lame attempt at shit talk. “Yeah, well, I hope you do try to knock me out. That’s what we train for.” I move past them, and two steps beyond his little crew, I get shoved in the back.
There are a lot of things a man can take. Shit talk is one of them. But when a dude puts his hands on me with aggression? It’s fucking on.
I whirl around and glare. His lips curl to expose one gold tooth right up front, and I almost lose the battle against my laughter. Jackass.
“I’m ready to beat the fuck out of you tomorrow night, but if you insist on starting this now”—I hold out my arms—“take a shot.”
“You know I can’t touch you before we hit the octagon.” He jerks his head, motioning to a stocky guy with a buzzed head. “But he can.”
I turn to the bald guy, who’s bouncing on his toes looking amped for a fight. “You shove me?”
“Yeah, bitch.” He gets in my face, nose to nose. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
Fuck, I’d give anything to knock this dipshit out, but I know that’s exactly what he wants. “Not a thing.”
Reece laughs. “What a *.”
I turn to him, taking my eyes off the twitchy fucker in my face. Probably not smart, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this guy think his threats intimidate me. “What’s your fucking problem? You should be kissing my ass for saving this fight for you.”
“My problem, dog, is that you’re sandbagging. You probably begged for this fight to save your non-existent fighting record.”
My fighting is the only thing I take seriously, and implying that I’d drop weight to fight in a lower weight class for an easy win is beyond insulting.
“I’m loyal to the UFL.” I step into his space and feel the snarl that pulls back my lips. “And I’d never turn down the opportunity to fuck you up.”
He shoves me. “What’re you waiting for?”
I move to throw my weight behind my fist.
“Stop!” Layla’s voice pulls me from my internal struggle not to hit Reece. She stomps our way, shaking her head. “Tell me you guys aren’t doing what it looks like you’re doing.” Her eyes go back and forth between me and Team Dumbass.
I step back from Reece, but move toward Layla. Call me paranoid, but I’m a little nervous at the idea of her getting between us. And knowing that she’s carrying Blake’s baby ups my unease.
“It’s cool, Layla.” I don’t take my eyes off the little shit who looks as if he’s about to pop the first person who gets close enough. Damn, what is that dude on? “Why don’t you go find—”
“Now hang on there, puppy dog.” Reece puffs out his chest. “Layla, huh?” He runs his dirty eyes up and down her body, and I pray like hell Blake’s not within one hundred yards.
“Go on, Layla.” I move in front of her, facing Reece.
She moves around me and glares at him. “No. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You heard her; she wants to stay. Stop cock-blockin’.” His pack of idiots laughs.
My muscles tense, readying to defend Layla from his advances. “I’d watch your fuckin’ mouth if I were you, Reece.”
“Back off, dog.” He licks his lips. “Damn, you’re hot.” He moves to grab her hand. I pull her behind me.
“Please, for the love of fuck, tell me you are not hitting on my woman.” Blake’s voice comes booming from behind me. Before I have a chance to turn around, he’s in front of me and nose to nose with Reece. “You’re over here nutting up on my boy and disrespecting my woman? Back the hell off, asshole.”
Blake’s always been protective of Layla, but ever since they found out she was pregnant, he’s gone nuclear possessive. Come to think of it, I rarely see her anywhere in the training center without him.
“Ha! Your woman?” Reece laughs and his team of dumb asses follows along. “You tappin’ her ass doesn’t make her yours. If that were the case, half the women in Vegas would belong to you.” The group of them burst into laughter.
The fighters in my camp are the closest thing I have to family. We get each other’s backs in every situation and nothing—career fight or risk of being fired—means more than that. Blake’s shoulders are flexed to his ears. Shit’s about to go down. My muscles tense and I flex my fists.
“Layla,” I say over my shoulder. “Go. Now.”
She grips the back of my tee. “No, Rex. I’m not leaving and—”
“Mouse, baby, listen to Rex.” Blake’s low grumble gets Layla moving, and I take my first full breath, knowing that she’s safely out of the way.