Granite Grit (Fighting's in the Blood #1)

Dedicated to

My Mother, Grandmother, and friend Leigh Henderson.

Parents are not to be put to death for their children, nor children put to death for their parents; each will die for their own sin.

Deuteronomy 24:16

Only a man who knows what it is like                              

to be defeated

Can reach down to the bottom of his soul

And come up with the extra ounce

of power it takes to win

when the match is even.

Muhammad Ali.

Chapter 1 The Beginning of the End

Chapter 2 Stuck in a Rut 2014

Chapter 3 Boxing as a Teen

Chapter 4 Strange Turn

Chapter 5 The House and Home

Chapter 6 Butterflies

Chapter 7 Kilgours

Chapter 8 The Spar

Chapter 9 The Aftermath

Chapter 10 Good Feeling

Chapter 11 Preparation

Chapter 12 The Eyes

Chapter 13 Old Man

Chapter 14 The Training

Chapter 15 The Hard Truth

Chapter 16 Montrose

Chapter 17 The Venue

Chapter 18 The Fight

Chapter 19 The Buzz

Chapter 20 The Hangover and Ride Home

Chapter 21 Back to the Same Old Same

Chapter 22 No Choices

Chapter 23 Back To The Slog

Chapter 24 More Lies

Chapter 25 Bad Memories, 2003

Chapter 26 The Fountain

Chapter 27 Coffee

Chapter 28 Blood

Chapter 29 Wounded Knuckles

Chapter 30 Mike and Dad

Chapter 31 Ticking Clock

Chapter 32 In Anticipation

Chapter 33 Pre-Fight

Chapter 34 Skinner

Chapter 35 The Victor Claims The Spoils

Chapter 36 Sunday Morning Blues

Chapter 37 Job Prospects

Chapter 38 Working Life

Chapter 39 Paranoia

Chapter 40 Weekend Blues

Chapter 41 Junior

Chapter 42 Phone Call

Chapter 43 The Chase

Chapter 44 Northern Ireland

Chapter 45 The Meeting With Mr Dean

Chapter 46 Changing Times

Chapter 47 New Life

Chapter 48 Been Here Before

Chapter 49 Restraining Order

Chapter 50 Pre-McGregor Fight

Chapter 51 Ball Point

Chapter 52 Matt McGregor

Chapter 53 Date With Destiny

Chapter 54 Pumped Up

Chapter 55 Micky

Chapter 56 Grief

Chapter 57 In The Zone

Chapter 58 Mags

Chapter 59 The Docks

Chapter 60 Back To The Interview

Chapter 61 The first half of the meeting with Mr Dean after returning from Northern Ireland

Chapter 62 Lousy Bastard

Chapter 63 Pre-Fight

Chapter 64 The Beginning Of The End

Chapter 65 The Reaper

Chapter 66 Remorseful

Chapter 67 The Eidolon

Chapter 68 Lukas

Chapter 69 Fate

Chapter 1

The Beginning of the End:

  Standing in this run-down, retired shipyard building on the banks of the Clyde, a desolate part of Glasgow, staring down at the palms of my shaking hands wondering what my fists had turned me into. Wondering how I let things escalate this far.

  Across from me was a beast, a monster like no other I had seen, a modern day Barbarian only interested in seeing me defeated, lying in a puddle of my own blood and piss. A man that had no mercy and had destroyed everyone he had faced. He earned his reputation as the hardest man with two fists in the country.

  The nonchalant look as he stared me down across the circle of thugs and gangsters was one I had never seen, no signs of weakness. Instead, a burning fire of hatred for life, hidden beneath intense, intimidating eyes. The doubts were racing around my head like never before, where will I be after this is all over? Will I get through this?

  But this was no time to reflect. I had to stay focused on the task at hand, or I’d be lifted off this cold concrete floor in a body bag.

  It was the money, or so I kept telling myself, but to be truthful, I was hooked on the game. The buzz of the crowd, the feeling of tearing your opponent apart, the pure adrenaline you get when you swap punches, and of course the sight of your foe lying on the floor partially paralysed. The cash handed to you after victory was secondary to the real reason I stood in this building.

  The countdown was on. Five minutes to go.

  There was going to be a duel between two warriors that no one in this crowd of peasants had seen before and a battle no one in this room will forget. My hands began to feel clammy with sweat and my legs started to shake with fear. All this was hidden on the inside, but on the outside, the only feeling that was projected from my face and pumped-up frame, was the need to see The Reaper broken down, in pain, bloodied, bruised and begging for his life.

  I was the main man. The top dog. Not him. He was just some cunt in the way of me becoming the hardest in the country. I had come too far, gave up everything. Lost the love of my life and my two kids, to let this degenerate Liverpool faggot beat me.

  Time was ticking and I could smell his blood, I could picture me smashing his head off the concrete floor. He gave another stare from across the room. He looked as pumped as I did, standing a few inches taller than me and every bit of his body ripped with muscle. His arms were bulging, his stomach, body and back were all ripped, with a set of traps on him that made seeing his neck difficult.

  His physique and the look of hatred in his eyes made him spine-chillingly evil to face. His two sidekicks looked as if they were giving him his last pep talk. That wasn’t going to help him, no pep talk was going to stop me fucking him up and sending him in a taxi to the morgue.

  I took my eyes off his, turned my back and gave myself a final word, as the memory of my murdered mate ran through my head.

  Things went unusually dead in the room, as if the crowd were awaiting the start of a hundred metre race. Everybody knew what they were about to witness, they knew history in the underworld was about to happen. I briefly felt a shiver up my spine and the strangest feeling I had been here before, or maybe this was my destiny?  

  A shout of a minute to go came. This was it. The time had come to dethrone this cunt and separate his head from his body. My heart beating like a mad man, the adrenaline kicked into overdrive and my blood pumped through my veins with fear, my breath heavy in anger and anticipation of the first exchange of fists.

  Tim, one of a few friends I had left that didn’t fear me, turned and fixed his stare into my eyes, nodding his head. “You fucking ready for this, Joe?”

  “Born ready, my friend.”

  “Last-man-standing, no fucking mercy, or you’ll be a dead man.”

  “There will be none!” I answered, no sign of remorse for what I had to do. Or, what he might do to me.

  “No guts! No glory!” Tim grunted from the depths of his throat.

  “Let’s get the show on the road.” The so-called ref in the middle of me and The Reaper shouted.

  Tim took a step back, still looking me with overwhelming uncertainty and anxiety written over his face, as if this could be the last time we exchange words.

  I turned around, stepped towards The Reaper, leaving all doubt behind, ready to fight for my right to exist. As The Reaper did the same, our eyes locked, glaring at each other like a couple of battle-hardened warriors.

We met in the middle…