Free Guarded Heart (Dubicki's) by Lisa Andres

seemed to
glint in the light of the auditorium. His face was hard with a square jaw, and
his skin tone looked almost cinnamon in color. His jaw was covered in short,
dark stubble that towed the line between sexy and creepy, and he held himself
as if he knew he was creepy and was proud of it. He looked slightly flushed in
his cheeks, which was the result of the various pock marks on his face from his
battle with acne in his youth.
    His fans stood up and cheered for him, all wearing their
green “Detonator” shirts. An obnoxiously big-chested woman a few rows over from
them held a sign that said “Do Me, Detonator,” and her t-shirt had what looked
to be simulated fuses going off over each of her breasts.
    “Okay, folks! Here’s the moment you have been waiting for.
Our defending hometown champion we know and love. Are you ready?”
    Deafening screams enveloped the auditorium in answer.
    “Here he is. Jesse… THE PATRIOT… DUUUBICCKKIIIIIIII!”
    The volume seemed to rise to a decibel level of sound that
rivaled a freight train.
    Jesse emerged from the tunnel with his head under the soft
hood of his navy blue “Patriot” robe. Carissa’s mouth dropped open as she
watched him jump up to the ring. She had not realized how sexy he was. As he
lowered his hood, she felt the heat raise a notch in her body as she took in
the intensity of his gaze. His steely, blue-gray eyes seemed unforgiving just then,
and she marveled at how chiseled his facial features were. His skin looked as
if it was both sun-kissed and slightly oiled, and he scanned the crowd.
    Both men finished disrobing and talking in their respective
corners to their coaching teams. They then met in the center of the ring while
the referee recited the rules, after which they bumped fists. They went back to
their corners, and the bell signaling the fight had begun resounded through the
air. The arena suddenly went quiet as both men walked toward the center of the
ring.
    The men circled each other for what seemed like too long as
they assessed each other and waited for the other to make the first move.
    Velasquez swung a right hook to connect to Jesse’s upper
body, but Jesse was quick to dodge the attempt. Velasquez barely let him
correct himself, still advancing on him like a predator. He threw a few more
shots at Jesse, and Jesse finally seized the opportunity for an upper cut to
Damon’s jaw. Damon’s head flew back in surprise as Jesse connected again with
his right eye. The crowd went wild.
    A woman above them screamed, “I want to have your babies, Jesse!”
    After Jesse had landed a hit to Damon’s eyebrow, Damon
recovered quickly and the men continued to dance back and forth.
    “Kill him, Jesse! You’ve got this!” one man in the crowd
screamed.
    Jesse stood still while Damon danced around him, waiting
until Damon hit the perfect angle, and landed a hard shot with his fist to the
side of Damon’s torso. Damon barely flinched.
    Damon continued to dance with Jesse in an effort to tire
him. It worked. He backed Jesse into the corner, which was a bad place for a fighter
to be overpowered. It took talent for the man trapped in the corner to
overpower his opponent and get back on his feet.
    An evil smile seemed to erupt across Damon’s face as he
delivered a series of quick punches to Jesse’s side. It was a move that was
risky. It could tire the person delivering the punches more than the fighter
the punches were delivered to.
    Jesse used that to his advantage to power his way out of the
corner.
    The bell rang signaling the end of the round.
    “Kill him, Jesse!” a few people yelled in the crowd. Clearly,
Jesse’s fans wanted vengeance for him, too.
    At that moment, the tension in the arena seemed to be at a fever
pitch, and a few little scuffles broke out in the crowd.
    “Jesse, do NOT let him get the best of you so soon,” Pablo
said to him as Jesse got back into his corner.
    “I know, Pablo. I’m just as frustrated as you