Free Saving a Legend: A Kavanagh Legends Novel by Sarah Robinson Page A

and stopped with her. Whatever the reason, he knew that having her sparkling eyes look at him was a privilege, one he wanted to earn again.

Chapter 6
    “Holy fuck! Look whose sorry ass just walked in,” announced Tate, a beefy fighter Kieran had once been friends with, as he walked into Legends that evening for the first time in over two years.
    “Tate, good to see you, man,” Kieran replied with a nod, in hopes that would be the end of it.
    Tate wasn’t having it, though. He came bounding over and slapped a hand on Kieran’s shoulder. His face resembled that of a lonely puppy, begging for someone’s approval.
    “Damn, Killer, it’s been a minute. Everything looking a little brighter without bars in front of it?” He called Kieran by his fighting name, half teasing, half provoking.
    “Shut up, asshole.” Kieran walked farther into the gym, but Tate followed.
    “Hey, Killer!” Another fighter called out to him, raising one hand in the air.
    Kieran waved, not changing his path. Men stopped to look at him but kept their distance. Some people made side comments to one another just out of his range of hearing; others looked nervous; and a few even looked impressed.
    “I’m serious, Killer! We’ve been missing you around here. Go wrap up—let’s spar for old time’s sake,” Tate suggested, quickly resembling a parasite stuck to Kieran’s side.
    “I’ll think about it,” Kieran told him, although he had already decided yes. He’d been dying for years to get back in the cage. “Let me check the place out first—I just walked in.”

    “Nothing’s changed,” Tate said with a shrug. “It’s the same as it’s always been since your pops first opened it twenty years ago.” He walked off.
    Kieran looked around at the large open-floor gym, with one large cage in the center and several smaller octagons on the outskirts, and he knew what Tate claimed wasn’t true. This place was as modern as they came. His father took precision-like care of all the octagons, and every weight machine was top of the line. Some of the decorations on the walls were a bit outdated—like pictures from old fights back in the day—but they just added to the ambience of the place.
    It was one of the reasons why he’d loved it so much, why it had been his favorite place growing up. When he walked past the lobby and receptionist desk, past the lockers jutting off the entry hallway, and entered this big room, he could feel the importance of this place. That history was being made here.
    And he’d almost been the one to make it.
    “Hey, Kieran!” Kane called from an octagon to his left. Kieran headed over and saw that he was sparring with Rory, probably training for his upcoming regional fight, which would be followed almost immediately by the statewide fight. Kane was fixing to be the next Rory, at least the Rory from before he blew out his knee and got hooked on prescription pills.
    Kieran felt proud anytime he saw his twin in the octagon. He knew how bad Kane wanted the fame, the attention, the title. He’d thought he wanted those things, too, but really, he just loved the physical act of taking his body to the limit. The one time he’d entertained a future in MMA, he’d been miserable. Everything was so strict, so regulated. It took the fun out of the sport.

    But when he’d found a way to skirt the rigidity and still make money, he’d ended up in prison. Turns out gambling is the real sport in illegal street fighting. Very little about the entire sport appealed to him now, except the pure enjoyment of being all fists and sweat, and moving lithely around a cage.
    “What are you doing here?” a sweaty Kane asked as he leaned against the cage and stared at Kieran. Ace dutifully lay sleeping outside the cage, waiting for Rory.
    “Thought I’d get in a workout, see the old place.”
    “Want to spar?” Kane directed at Kieran, then turned to call over to Rory, who was getting some water. “Hey Rory, can we tag in