FIGHT

Chapter 1

Step right, step left, jab.

    Again.

    Step right, step left, jab.

    The mantra repeats in my head as I thrust my small hand forward to make contact with the heavy bag, hardly getting it to sway. I repeat the move over and over, mentally talking myself through it just as Josh, my trainer, taught me to do.

    A vision of my older brother flashes through my mind and my punches become more forceful. The large punching bag pushes further back as a result of my hit. My punches are always better when I think of my brother. He's the one person I want to use these newly learned boxing moves on — he ruined our family and if I ever see him again, I'm going to ruin him.

    I bring my left arm across my forehead, wiping the thin sheen of sweat gathered there before returning all of my attention to pulverizing this bag. I can hear footsteps from some other part of the gym behind me, but I ignore them, concentrating on my form.

    Step right, step left, jab.

    I inhale through my nose, exhaling through my mouth as my fist connects with the heavy bag. Rolling my shoulders, I stop to think about the new punch that Josh trained me for yesterday. "The trick for a successful hook is keeping your elbow bent. Aim for the liver, jaw, or the ribs."

    Step forward left, bend arm, and punch.

    The new punch stings when I first make contact with the bag, but I push the pain away and try to put more force behind my hits.

    I continue throwing punches at the stiff bag, my breathing gradually getting heavier.

    "Your elbow isn't bent correctly. If you keep throwing hooks like that, you're going to end up injured." I let my hands fall to my sides as I turn around, expecting to find Josh in front of me.

    Instead, there's a man I've never seen here before. He's tall, around six feet I'm guessing, with chestnut colored curls pushed back by a black bandana. Through his white tank top, I can see faint outlines of various tattoos, and the muscles he attains are obvious. When I look up to meet his eyes, I see emerald green ones staring vividly back at me, his pink lips curled up in a confident smirk.

    For some reason, that smirk just really ticks me off.

    "Do I know you?" My eyebrow raises and I cross my arms over my chest, watching as his eyes travel to watch my movement, staring at my breasts through my thick sports bra.

    "Eyes on mine, Curly."

    He meets my eyes and my sneaker impatiently taps on the padded floor. His smirk grows, testing my patience further.

    "You know exactly who I am."

    "I do?"

    I feel both of my eyebrows scrunch together as I look at him in question. My eyes study his face once more, trying to find anything that looks recognizable. Anything my memory could recall of this creature.

    Nothing.

    I'm positive that today is the first time I've ever seen him. His cocky smirk falls as he realizes that I honestly have absolutely no idea who he is.

    "Seriously?" His green eyes widen in disbelief and I halfheartedly shrug, not understanding what the big deal is about the whole thing.

    "Holden Samuels." His annoying smirk returns like he expects his name to have some kind of meaning to me. Instead, I shrug again, offering up my name.

    "Well hi, Holden. I'm Tatum. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get back to my training."

    I start to turn my body back to the bag before I'm stopped by a large, calloused hand wrapping around my dainty wrist.