Unbroken (Fighting for Gisele #3) (9 page)

“Oh my God.” Gisele looked over at Zeke, whose eyes were riveted on the ring.

Noticing her glance, the bodyguard gave her a nod. “The guy’s a specimen,” Zeke said. “But Micah’s smart. He’s a good fighter.”

Gisele wasn’t sure if Zeke believed what he was saying or was just trying to reassure her. Then as Fromer bounced on his toes, the announcer screamed, “In this corner…Max
the Bru-u-ute
Fromer!”

Suddenly, Gisele’s mouth was dry. She stared at the walkway, and within a second Micah came prancing toward the floor. He was so impossibly good-looking, with his buff muscles and chiseled form. And he was so damn confident.

The coach parted the ropes, and Micah climbed into the ring. He lifted his gloves in the air and the crowd went wild. They were either bloodthirsty, or thought Micah was their hero and was about to pound that German tank into the mat.

“And in this corner…Micah
Thu-u-u-nder Pu-u-nch
Rinaldi!”

The screams were deafening. Gisele couldn’t hear the announcer, although his lips were moving. Micah scanned the crowd and spotted her, then pumped a glove in the air. Gisele raised her arms to give him two thumbs up.

Micah could win this, goddammit. Gisele knew he could. He looked fierce up there in the ring, and as honed as a statute of a Greek god. His arrogance was obvious. A mere look at Fromer said: “I’m going to pound you into the ground, you son of a bitch.”

But Former didn’t act intimidated. Instead, he took an aggressive stance, and the referee seemed barely able to restrain him while he gave the fighters their last instructions. The bell rang and Gisele held her breath.

The contenders went at each other, punching, dodging, and bouncing around the ring. The first few rounds weren’t telling. It was either man’s game. Fromer was ferocious and got in some good punches, but so did Micah.

The fighters were a mixture of brute power and sublime style. It was poetry in motion, in a raw, brutal sort of way. Gisele thought of it as a
ballet of violence
, and focused on the fighters’ agile skill. She’d seen Micah fight enough that a puffy eye or the sight of blood wasn’t her undoing.

But late in the rounds, the fighters decided to throw away the blueprint for what was expected to happen between the ropes of a boxing match. Or Fromer did, anyway. From what Gisele could tell, the Brute dismissed propriety and went for blood.

The fighters clashed as if in a kind of medieval combat, intent on literally punching each other into a bloody pulp. A few times, Gisele thought she saw Micah wince with pain when he slugged his opponent, but her eyes must have been deceiving her. Each time it looked like Fromer wouldn’t stop, the bell sounded, giving Micah a short break in which to recover.

Gisele watched wide-eyed as his coach waved his hands, talking animatedly. She hoped to hell he was telling him how to knock that monster to the ground. Luke handed water to Micah and he swigged it down in big gulps as he swabbed his face with a towel. He was cut, but there was so much blood that Gisele couldn’t tell what the injury was.

It seemed like Micah’s sheer will to win kept him going. He got knocked down, but he’d get right back up. Fromer would hit him with a low blow and Micah would rebound. On and on it went, and still Micah went at the asshole. He didn’t back away, showed no lack of confidence or focus, and Gisele began to think he would win.

Then without warning, Fromer stepped in front of the referee, blocking his view. While unseen, he dove into an illegal head butt, knocking Micah off balance. Before Micah regained stability, Fromer plowed his elbow into Micah’s neck, and when it threw him off, the German stuck out his foot to trip him.

Micah flew forward, and as his body plummeted toward Fromer, the ruthless fighter put all his force into a head blow, knocking Micah so hard that he flew across the ring into the ropes and slid to the mat.

Gisele screamed and stood up, waiting for Micah to move. But he didn’t. The referee called out the count, then screamed out that Fromer was the winner. The audience broke into total bedlam, and Gisele gasped in horror.

The coach was kneeling over Micah, but still he didn’t move. Harlan waved his hand in the air and a paramedic hopped into the ring. Gisele slipped out of Zeke’s grasp and raced around to Micah. She crawled through the ropes then fell to her knees beside him.

Micah was breathing, but he wasn’t responding. All that happened next seemed unreal. Gisele had tears streaming down her cheeks. Zeke was behind her, trying to move her out of the way. More paramedics arrived with a stretcher.

Harlan spoke to Micah as he was carried away, though it was unlikely he heard. “I’ll be at the hospital,” he said, and watched the stretcher disappear down the aisle.

Gisele stared after Micah, then turned to see Fromer sitting in his corner drinking water. He was surrounded by his staff, and looked unaffected, although scraped and bruised. If anything, he had a look of pride, and he appeared downright vicious. He was the type to brag about killing a man.

Well, he hadn’t succeeded this time. Gisele glared at him.
You’ll get yours, asshole
, she thought. But Micah was her first priority. Zeke put his hand on her arm and guided her to the car to take her to the hospital. Gisele had no idea how badly Micah was injured.

Chapter 9

At the hospital, they had to wait. Harlan paced the waiting room like a caged tiger, and Luke chain-drank coffee. Zeke was the only one halfway calm, and even he looked concerned. It seemed like forever before they were allowed in the room to see the patient. The bodyguard stayed back to wait for them.

Micah was conscious in the hospital bed, cleaned up but looked a bit wiped. The bruises and cuts on his face were evidence of the recent fight, but Gisele was more interested in his darn head. The doctor stood beside the bed. “I have Micah’s permission to tell you all about his condition.”

Gisele went to the side of the bed and took Micah’s left hand. He had the other one tucked under the sheet. She was so relieved to see him awake. Micah squeezed her hand and her world seemed to come back into proper focus.

The doctor stood at the foot of the bed with a clipboard and looked at all of them. “Micah has suffered a mild traumatic brain injury…he has a concussion.”

Gisele stared at him. “Is there any permanent damage?”

“Jarring the brain like that knocked him unconscious. But based on the CT scan and my examination, I found no evidence that would indicate lasting damage. Fortunately, there was no bleeding in the brain,” the doctor said. “I’m going to release him. The best thing for him is rest, and he will get better rest at home than here.”

“That’s great news,” Gisele said.

“I’ve given Micah a list of symptoms. If he becomes aware of any additional signs of injury, he’s to call his doctor. But I don’t expect that, as long as he behaves and takes care of himself.”

“That might be a problem,” Harlan said, patting Micah’s leg. “But it is doctor’s orders, so maybe he will listen.”

“I did examine one other injury, but I understand that it wasn’t a result of this fight,” the doctor said. “Micah says he had an encounter in an alley a few days ago, and his right hand hurt after he punched the guy.”

The doctor had everyone’s attention. “Micah sprained his hand. He has a couple of ligament tears, which explains the pain he’s been having. The hand will heal up. I’ve told him to ice it and take pain relievers as needed.”

Harlan looked at Micah. “You fought…with a sprained hand? You kept that from me, didn’t you?”

“If I’d told you, then you wouldn’t have let me get in the ring,” Micah said.

“You’re damned right.” The coach shook his head. “And what were you doing in a street fight, anyway?”

Micah didn’t offer much. “They attacked me.”

When the banter settled down, the doctor spoke. “The hand will return to normal if he stops using it for a while, and gives the tears a chance to heal.” No one asked any questions. “Well, I’ll leave you all to visit, while the desk processes the paperwork.” The doctor exited the room, and for a second there was silence.

Then Luke stood over Micah. “Jesus, what happened out there, man?”

“Fromer pummeled me,” Micah said. “That’s what happened.”

Luke replied without missing a beat, “You didn’t move…I thought you were dead.”

Micah chuckled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Harlan piped up. “The guy outweighed you by twenty pounds.”

“It felt like forty.” Micah looked tired. But then he turned to Luke with renewed interest. “How bad did we lose?”

Luke rolled his shoulder. “I’m a businessman, not a fool. I bet on you, of course, but I wasn’t ridiculous about it.” He paused. “We lost enough, but we’re okay. We’ll just have to win it back.”

Micah grinned. “Maybe I’ll send you into the ring next time.”

Luke laughed. “Or maybe you won’t.”

Harlan looked at Micah. “It’s just a good thing you have a hard head.”

“Very true.” Micah smiled. “I’m just glad they’re letting me out of here. I hate hospitals.”

“Why don’t you guys take off,” Gisele said. “Then Micah can get dressed, and as soon as he’s released Zeke can drive us back to the hotel.”

“Good idea, and no training for a few weeks
at least
…take some time,” Harlan said, his eyes boring into Micah. “And make sure you do what the doctor says.” Then he left.

Luke picked up the conversation. “I texted Abby and told her that everything’s fine. Her performance is over, so I’ll go pick her up. And I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” he said to Micah, then disappeared into the hall.

Alone at last, Gisele touched Micah’s cheek, then leaned down to kiss his dry lips. “You were good out there,” she said. “I’m proud of you. If a fighter has to
cheat
in order to beat you, it means you are one
tough competitor
.”

Micah took her hand. “I’m glad you were there. It meant a lot to me.” He kissed her wrist. “Now…take me home.”

*****

Micah was a little foggy and there was uncomfortable pressure in his head. The nurse had given him painkillers, so his hand felt decent at the moment. He slid from the hospital bed and got dressed. Gisele had gone to see how soon he’d be released.

Waiting was frustrating, as Micah didn’t like being confined. He looked in the bathroom mirror and figured he looked like he’d just fought a battle. Fair enough—he had. He didn’t mind the bruises and scrapes, as they’d clear up quickly.

There was swelling on the right side of his face where Fromer had slugged him. He didn’t like seeing the evidence of the beating he’d taken. The sight of it made him angry, but there wasn’t much he could do about it then.

By the time he got out of the bathroom, Gisele was back. “We can go,” she said, waving some papers. “The attendant will be here to wheel you out.”

“I can walk.”

“It doesn’t matter…liability issues, you know. The hospital has to wheel you out the entrance to ensure your safe exit.”

Micah sighed. “Ridiculous.”

Yet the attendant arrived, and Micah sat in the wheelchair. As he was wheeled down the hallway, he thought of being a kid. It would have been fun riding in a wheelchair down the glossy hallway floor…as a five-year-old. But as a fighter, it was embarrassing.

The automatic doors parted and Micah was allowed to get up. He took Gisele’s arm and they walked out to the circular drive. It was dark outside, but the entrance was brightly lit. Zeke pulled up, but wisely didn’t get out to open the door for his recently injured employer.

Micah opened the back door for Gisele, then slid in beside her. “This is Vegas,” he said to Zeke. “Find one of those all-night burger joints.”

“You’re hungry?” Gisele said.

“The injuries didn’t affect my appetite.”

“Didn’t they feed you in there?” Zeke said.

Micah laughed. “A Salisbury steak with gravy that was inedible…looked like dog food,” Micah said. “I need some real food, if I have any hope of getting my strength back.”

Finding a fast food joint that was open wasn’t a problem. Micah bought dinner for them, including a Quarter Pounder with fries for the bodyguard.

“Thanks,” Zeke said, with a mouthful of food. “All I had were those snack machines. Over-roasted peanuts and stale chips…talk about inedible.”

After the quick meal, Zeke drove them to the Wynn. “I take it you’ll be resting up for a while, but call if you need me.”

“Will do.” Micah slid out and reached for Gisele’s hand.

As Micah walked through the noisy lobby, exhaustion seeped into his bones. The adrenaline from the fight and the excitement at the hospital had kept him going. But with food in his belly and a comfortable bed waiting, he was suddenly wiped out.

The bright lights and clanging noises in the casino were annoying; it was kind of like he had a heavy-duty hangover. Feeling a bit hazy, Micah got in the elevator with Gisele and leaned against the side.

“You need rest,” Gisele said. “That’s what the doctor said, and I’m going to make sure you get plenty of it.”

Micah held her hand, but didn’t argue.

In the room, Gisele called the concierge for some ice packs and, when they arrived, put one on his hand to help with the swelling. Micah stretched out on the bed, shoes off, and closed his eyes. He hadn’t realized how damn tired he was.

The meds must have worn off, because his head was pounding. Gisele gave him some pills to chill out the pain again, and Micah undressed to crawl into bed. He just didn’t feel right, so he pulled the blanket up and stuffed the pillow under his neck.

That was the last thing Micah remembered. He didn’t open his eyes again until late the next morning. It wasn’t like him to sleep late, but when he peeled his eyelids back to look at the clock it was already eleven.

Gisele was in the shower, as he could hear the water running. She had closed the dark curtains, and he was grateful. Micah didn’t think that he was ready for bright light yet. He took a couple of pain pills from a bottle on the nightstand, and slugged them back with water. Then he dropped back onto the pillow.

Micah felt like a ton of bricks had fallen on his head. He rubbed his temples, willing the meds to work faster. He didn’t have any numbness or blurred vision, and last night he hadn’t slurred his speech, that he recalled. The knock in the head hadn’t been so bad, since he didn’t have any complications except the headache.

It irked him that Max Fromer had likely been out celebrating last night while Micah had been holding down a hospital bed. He wondered if the guy had any injuries from their encounter, other than a few scratches.

The German had come at him like a tank, but that hadn’t swayed the match in his favor. Micah had expected that, and had trained for it. He’d even had an edge on the guy, and for a fleeting moment thought he could win.

And Micah might have won, except that the Brute got desperate. The dude was a criminal and hung out with the Russian mafia, so what did Micah expect? There was too much money riding on the asshole’s win, and when it came to dirty tactics, the sponsors looked the other way.

Harlan had predicted that Micah’s opponent would do anything to win, yet it had happened so fast that he hadn’t seen it coming. There hadn’t even been a split second to avoid the impact. Once Fromer had driven into him with a head butt, the rest of the sequence had rolled out like a row of dominoes.

The injury to Micah’s head was nothing compared to the damage to his ego. The German’s underhanded way of winning had been effective, and it had worked. But as Harlan said, “There is always another fight.” And there would be. It wasn’t over yet; Micah wasn’t finished with the dude. Fromer could wallow in his arrogance for a while, but eventually Micah would take him.

It was best not to tell Gisele that he planned to fight the Brute again, since it would be a while before that happened. She’d been concerned about him fighting the guy in the first place, and had done her best to talk Micah out of it. She had been unhappy that he’d gotten in the ring, but that was over for now.

Gisele came out of the bathroom with a robe on and a towel around her hair, looking as delectable as ever. “You’re awake. How do you feel?” She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

Since the injury, Gisele had babied him, making sure he iced his hand and having the pain meds nearby. She’d shut the curtains so he could sleep, and expressed concern over how he was feeling. Micah was really fine, but he kind of liked the attention and how sweet she was to him.

Gisele leaned down and gave him a kiss, then smiled.

“I’m feeling better.” It wasn’t much of a lie, since looking at Gisele made him feel a lot better. “I’m not staying in this hotel room, though. I’ll shower and we’ll go out.”

Gisele frowned. “We could call room service.”

“Not a chance.” Micah hopped out of bed and headed for the shower.

As soon as he was ready, they went out. The day was warm but it wasn’t quite as scorching as the weather had been. For a while, they held hands and strolled along the sidewalk. At least a knock in the head gave Micah a legitimate excuse to skip training and spend some time with Gisele.

The Strip was the heartbeat of Las Vegas, with its many elaborately themed casinos. Micah was tempted to duck into one to do some gambling, certain that he’d be lucky with Gisele by his side. But he didn’t think he could tolerate the noise level and bright lights yet.

There were a lot of stores and restaurants, as well as hotels. Micah stopped in front of the Bellagio fountains and put his arm around Gisele’s waist. They stayed to watch the show, listening to the orchestra music playing through the speakers while the water spray shot high, dancing across the lake in predesigned patterns.

“It’s so pretty,” Gisele said, and leaned her head against his chest.

Micah agreed. Yet it was Gisele that was pretty, and she made all the usual stuff that Micah had seen a dozen times seem special. He hugged her close and kissed the top of her head, smelling her floral perfume. She did something to him, mesmerized him with her beauty, and when he was with her, the world was as it should be.

Midafternoon, Gisele suggested food. “You slept so late that we skipped breakfast and it’s well past lunch.” She led him to a nearby buffet, and they had a late meal. For an average place on the Strip, the food was exceptionally good.

Or maybe it was Gisele’s company that made it all better somehow. Vegas seemed to dazzle Micah a bit more than it had, the food tasted more delicious than it might have, and when he walked down the street, he felt
happy
.