Surge: (#7 The Beat and The Pulse) Read Online Free PDF

that’s what the majority of men liked, but it never ceased to make me want to puke. The fact that Fiona was one of Dean’s almost on camera conquests didn’t help, and I instantly wondered if there had been any funny business backstage. There was certainly unrestricted access.
    The announcer shook hands with Charlie Freeman and took center stage again. “First up, let’s announce the fighters up for the featherweight division.”
    We stood by and watched the fighters weigh in for the lower weight classes, waiting for the middleweight, which was where Dean was placed. Violet stood beside me, really getting into the spirit of things, hanging on every word the announcer was saying. That girl had come a long way since the first day I met her, and her devotion to her man and his sport was something else. She was Ash Fuller’s little sister and had been his personal cheer squad for years, so it was only natural she was there for Lincoln in the same way. Dean had come into her equation by default, as did all things where his twin was concerned. The two men were inseparable. I’d hate to see the day when they’d inevitably have to fight one another.
    “Now the middleweight fight,” the announcer bellowed. “I’m sure you already know these guys. They’re heavy hitters in the cage, and you love ‘em for their roughish good looks. The bad boys of the comp are here in AUFC Middleweight 35! Dean Hayes versus Gabe O’Connell!”
    The crowd cheered, and there were a few catcalls, but I was glued to the side of the stage, waiting for Dean to appear.
    The announcer flipped the card in his hand and said, “First up to the scale is Dean Hayes.”
    Violet grabbed Lincoln’s arm and jumped up and down as Dean walked out onto the stage, followed by Coach Miller. Shucking his shirt and trainers, Dean stepped up onto the scales, staring right down the barrel of the camera, ignoring the whole scene around him. He was one of the most focused and professional fighters I’d seen on the circuit despite his shenanigans off it, and he was well known for his no fuss approach with his fists.
    “Eighty-one point three kilograms,” the announcer bellowed. “Dean Hayes!”
    Good. That was a good weigh-in for middleweight.
    He stepped off the scales, and Coach scooped up his shirt and shoes before they moved off to the opposite side of the stage.
    “And his opponent, please welcome Gabe O’Connell!”
    Here we go , I thought to myself as everyone turned to wait for Gabe’s appearance.
    The man himself pushed the curtains aside and strode past us, his stature pretty darn impressive. At six foot tall, he was a wall of sculpted muscle, complete with tattoos all over his body. They crawled all over his arms and torso, over his hands and up his neck in grayscale patterns I couldn’t make out as he passed in a flash, his stormy gray eyes firmly locked on the stage.
    Chiseled jaw, check. Shaved head, check. Aura of arrogance, check. Bevy of women swooning at his feet, check.
    If the gossip about him was anything to go by, he was the ultimate bad boy who put Dean’s antics to shame. Being a total magnet for troubled tattooed men, I found myself giving him the once-over. Hell, I was single now. A girl was free to look at the rival as long as she didn’t touch.
    Gabe had been around for a while now, fighting his way up the ranks, and it was the first time he’d been up against one of the Twins. Considering he was one win away from being able to challenge for the title, it was being billed as one of the fights of the year by some commentators. And guess who currently held the middleweight belt? Lincoln Hayes. I didn’t know about it being the fight of the year but it was sure going to be spectacular.
    I glanced at Vee as he climbed the stairs and did a flawless cartwheel-flip-tumble thing for the cameras, landing smoothly on his feet. It was a hit with the assembled fans, and they whistled and jeered. Making a show of peeling off his shirt,