Jezebel Koko Brown (best books to read non fiction txt) 📖

gulped. He had no idea hewas playing with a loose cannon with fist that could lay him flat. “Now if you would excuse me, I need to take care of somebusiness.”

Celeste wished him bonvoyage as he bounded up the stage steps. Hand held out, he walkedright up to Shane.

CHAPTERTWENTY SEVEN

Contrary to the morning’sexcitement, the cab ride home was decidedly somber. Celeste tried toengage Shane, but he simply brooded in the corner, tightlipped andstaring out the window.

Eventually, she gave up,chalking it up to tomorrow’s fight. Over the past several dayshe’d started to withdraw, grow more serious. Still, he’dnever been this withdrawn.

Had something happened atthe weigh-in? Celeste tensed. Was he mad about seeing her talkingwith another man? Worried and wanting to set the record straight, sheturned to him.

Unfortunately, Shane hadanother motive. He suddenly leaned forward and tapped the cabbie’sseat. “Take a left here on Flatbush. The lady’s going toForte Green.”

“What are you doing?”She balked after he gave the driver her address. Ever since they’dbeen back from their honeymoon, they’d fallen into domesticbliss in the Paddy Wagon.

“It’sbest you stay at your place tonight. I’m gonna need my rest forthe fight.”

“We don’t haveto do anything. I can sleep—”

He leaned back and closedhis eyes. “Don’t fight me on this, you’re going tolose. I need to get some rest, concentrate on the fight.”

Eventhough it made perfect sense, his excuse didn’t stop her fromstewing over the rejection and the fact that she would be spendingthe rest of Christmas on her own.

***

Adrenaline pulsed throughShane’s veins. The excitement of the crowd was palpable. He fedoff it, consumed it as he stood in the tunnel, preparing to make hisentrance. Shane closed his eyes, channeling their energy.

“You ready, kid?”Ollie came up behind him and slapped Shane’s shoulder.

“I’d better beor I’m a sitting duck.”

Chuckling, Ollie pattedShane’s shoulder. “This is your moment. Your victorywill be splashed across all the morning rags. I see it now.”Ollie lifted his hand. His fingers slightly curled from arthritis.“Sugar Shane Claims Bittersweet Victory Over the Mountain Man.”

As the challenger to thetitle, Shane’s entrance music, Nine Pound Hammer poundedthrough the Garden’s speaker system.

Not wasting another minute,Shane hastened toward his fate, Ollie trailing in his wake. Both hiscoach and corner man, he’d been his second ever since theirdays in Kansas City.

Once inside the ring, Shanemoved along the ropes.

Arms swaying in and out, tokeep the energy flowing, he scanned the ringside seats in search ofhis favorite color.

Shaneknew he’d set himself up for disappointment. He wouldn’tbe surprised if Celeste would not spite him by honoring his request.

Shane didn’t blameher. Yesterday, his treatment had been rotten, and yet necessary. He’d expected Ferruci at the weigh in, not the honoring oftheir appointment. The calendar date had come and gone without wordfrom the boxing promoter.

Naturally, Shane had givenup hope, his cause turning sour upon another man’s whims. Inturn, he’d been caught off guard when Ferruci showed up at theweigh in the other day, and he’d acted rashly from a guiltyconscience.

Aflash of Kelly green and Shane froze. Celeste sat in the second rowwearing his peace offering, an emerald green, satin dress, whichhugged every single one of her delectable curves.

Off the rack, the dress hadbeen delivered this morning by Madame LaRoche herself to ensure aperfect fit. The service hadn’t been cheap, but Shane didn’tbegrudge the cost. He’d pay ten times the price to make amends.And it seemed like his plan had been fruitful.

Not only had she worn thedress, but when their gazes clashed and held her expression softened,giving him a glimpse of the vulnerable woman he’d fallen inlove with.

Shesmiled and he drew himself to his full height. He even threw hisshoulders back. Yeah, he had it bad. A record breaking crowd ofmore than twenty thousand people had paid to see him fight and he waspreening for his wife’s favor.

Entranced by his wife, Shanedidn’t hear the announcer introduce Mountain Man Jim Clarke norhis entrance music. He didn’t move until called to ring centerto face his opponent.

An inch taller and possessedof a wiry build, his opponent hid lightning quick reflexes and adeadly right hook, which could buckle the knees. He’d neededit, Shane muse. He wasn’t going down easy.

With mounting impatience,Shane digested the rules and the referee’s customary wish ofgood luck. And he barely tapped the other man’s gloves beforeretreating to his corner.

“Remember stay in themiddle of the ring, keep your feet moving.” Ollie massagedShane’s right shoulder. “And whatever you do don’tlet him get you on the ropes.”

At the sound of the bell,Shane advanced on his opponent. Never one to strike the first blow,a silly superstition of his, Shane circled Clarke.

“You want a piece ofthis?” his opponent sneered. A showman of the first order,Clarke was known to taunt his opponents during an entire bout. Forsome fighters, it threw off their timing, messed with their head. NotShane. Steadfast, he could remain steady with a marching band nippingat his heels.

“I plan on taking mypound of flesh and then some.” Shane assured him. The fighter’soverconfident expression melted into a furrowed brow. Shane grinned,even winked. The man’s confusion had been worth the cheaptalk.

Bearing his teeth, Clarkestepped forward, throwing with his right. Inside the punch, Shanecountered with a hard left uppercut. The blow landed solid andClarke’s knees buckled. Shane shifted his body weight,preparing to strike. He drew his arm back at the same point Clarkefell to one knee and one of his gloves touched the mat.

The referee swung his arms,directing Shane to back up. “One…two…three…”

Slowly, Clarke regained hisfooting, but not his facilities. Eyes unfocused, his body swayedlike a willow in a light breeze.

However, looks weredeceiving. Shane barely advanced two steps