“Ella,” he yelled, using her name for the very first time and loving the way it felt on his tongue. “Take her down. You’ve got this, baby. Take her down. Don’t stand toe-to-toe.”
She had spent so much time focusing on her weakness, she had forgotten her strength. She’d taken down a two-hundred-plus man with her rear-naked choke hold, easily tossed Billy around the canvas when they’d trained, had even done a good job of wrestling with him. Though his size and weight had been to his advantage, and he’d bested her each time, she’d been a worthy opponent. She would dominate this woman on the ground.
A few tense seconds went by before she unfolded from her submissive position and took a punch square in the face. As her head swung violently to the side, he roared his fury—at himself for being so focused on his own goddamn pride that she’d willingly done this, at her for being so fucking determined to save him, and at that woman for laying a damn finger on the woman he loved.
But the next thing he knew, Ella came around with a hook to the chin that caused her opponent to stumble backward. Ella took advantage of the lowered guard and hurled her shoulder into the body of the woman. Both thudded to the ground. Shocked gasps sounded around him as everyone fell silent for a moment, then the room erupted in encouragement for Brittany.
Ella quickly shuffled behind Brittany and snaked her arm around her neck. Not tight enough, though. Damn it. The woman had been able to point her chin down, keeping the hold from getting locked in. The only way for Ella to get the upper hand would be to hit her on the side of the head until the woman gave in.
Breath held, he waited to see what she would do. As much as she loved to train, she wasn’t a violent person, had always preferred to train as if she was on the defense, not the offense. Right now, it was up to her to finish this.
Seconds later, she started knocking her fist into the side of the woman’s head. With each hit, her arm slipped just a little further under the woman’s chin. One more blow and she had the submission locked in. Fucking tight as hell. Shouted “no’s” stood out among angry “what the fucks?”
Face purpling, Brittany squirmed, but eventually tapped Ella’s forearm. The referee rushed over waving his arms in the air, and she released the other woman. As she rose to her feet, the ref lifted her arm high into the air. “Winner. Ella Watts.”
The crowd roared its displeasure as torn pieces of paper were tossed into the air.
Win or lose, he had never felt so much pride as he did in that moment. He glanced toward the back of the room. Gabe and Mitch were in their usual spot, and gave each other a high five. Why had they taken this gamble? Yeah, they’d taken a chance on him when they’d thrown him in the cage with Bane, but he’d had a damn good record and years of experience. On Ella, they seriously took a chance.
After making sure she was still in the cage, he walked over to the cousins. As he approached, they straightened off the wall and faced him.
“Sorry, we left you in the dark, Black,” Mitch said. “Ella made us swear to. Since we know you haven’t looked at the betting cards since we started this, we were pretty sure you weren’t aware what everyone was gambling on.”
“My loss was a guarantee. I was going to go in there and lose. Ella had to win, and it was her first fight, ever. Why did you take that chance?”
Gabe turned droopy, blood-shot eyes toward the cage and an awed smile curved his lips. “I would never bet against Ella Watts. That bitch is capable of anything.”
He was damn right about that.
“We’re square now, Black,” Mitch said, slapping him on the back. “I mean no offense when I say this, but we never want to see your or Ella’s face again.”
Lance laughed. “We share the same sentiments.”
He was done with the McNealys forever.
After Gabe and Mitch walked off, he stayed put as he watched Ella leave the cage then disappear into the bathroom. He wanted to go to her now, but he also wanted to give her time to come to terms with whatever feelings she may have had. Doing what she did tonight couldn’t have been easy.
The warehouse was emptying faster than usual, most likely due to the overwhelming number of bad bets on that last fight. Lance grabbed up one of the folding chairs, placed it outside the bathroom door then sat.
Thirty minutes later, she finally stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of jeans, a red cotton T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. The sound of her boot-clad feet echoed in the nearly empty warehouse. She was digging around in her gym bag. He soaked in the sight of her, hoping beyond hope that she hadn’t returned to fight in his place and then leave again.
He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Thank God. You took for fucking ever,” he said, like he had the first night he’d waited for her after an event.
Squealing, she spun around and slapped her hand to her chest. “Stop doing that.”
Chuckling, he stood and strode over to her. “So, Ella Watts, huh?”