SWOLLEN: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

hurt. Somehow we’ve made our way to the front row, where I have a perfect view of what’s to come, but is also the closest to the action. One mistimed punch or an over enthusiastic audience member and I’ll be going home with a black eye, a split lip or something even worse.
    We are about to begin. One of the boxers has a grimace on his face like a pit-bull, tattoos all over his chest and an energy about him that makes him look dangerous. The other still hasn’t removed his hood so it’s impossible to see his face. He’s thinner than the other guy, much calmer too. At a guess, based entirely on his approach, I’d say he might have even more experience here than Knockout.
    The referee introduces them as the Pitbull, no surprise there and the Cobra, and when the Cobra finally removes his hood, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my heart skips a beat.
    Liam. Holy fuck.
     
    Liam
    It’s been a good year. In fact, it’s been such a good year, I might be able to make this my last. I’ve got cash saved up, I’m not getting any younger, I’m sick of the environment, and I’m fed up of being alone. I’m incredibly good at kicking the shit out of people, but it’s not exactly something you can share with your friends and loved ones.
    Loved ones. That’s a good one. Jasmine was the last, and after her, I knew everything would pale in comparison so I just haven’t bothered looking. I’m hoping that’s going to change soon, though. I’ve been all over this country the last year making a name for myself, which is why I’m here fighting tonight. This isn’t an event you just turn up to and put your name down for. This is an exclusive, invite-only, jewel in the crown, ten thousand dollar event with some of the best fighters from across the country.
    I’ve had such a good win record this year that I’m up first in my weight division. If I win, which I’m more than likely to do, I’ll take home enough to leave this whole fucking world behind me.
    I’m up against the Pitbull. I’ve never fought this guy before, but I’ve seen him fight, and nobody fights dirtier. I’ve seen him practically rip someone’s ears off the top of their head before pushing his thumbs into their eye sockets until they bled out. He’s an animal, and he’s bigger than me, but I know how to beat him, even if he’s got some kind of blade concealed somewhere, which I wouldn’t put past him.
    There’s a huge crowd in here tonight, but I never look at it too closely, not until I’m absolutely sure the fight is over. I keep away from it as much as possible, because getting hit from supporters of your opponent is definitely some of the skeevier shit that goes on here, and as good as I am, I don’t have eyes in the back of my head. If there is one thing that shouldn’t be tolerated in this no-rules environment it’s immoral shit like that, but often the referee turns a blind eye to it, and the other supporters aren’t quick enough to stop it anyway.
    I come alone, but I always have support, even if I don’t know who these people are. I’ve become well-known on the circuit, and the crowds seem to like the way I fight, which means they like to get behind me. I’m good too, but I already told you that. Some of these men have no formal training but can handle themselves pretty well, others have a huge amount of formal training but don’t know how to fight, luckily, I’ve got a mix of the two.
    I’m barely out of my hoodie before the Pitbull is up in my face, jumping the referee’s starting whistle by a good few seconds and indicating exactly how he means to continue.
    I’m quick enough to skip gracefully out of his way, and in doing so get a couple of digs into his side to test my range. I feel good. Relaxed, confident and ready for anything he thinks he can throw at me.
    Pitbull comes again, his face twisted into a grimace and this time I stand up, take a few haymakers into my arms and get inside him to open him up. He’s