Free GAGE: A Bad Boy Military Romance by Cordelia Blanc Page A

I had to push through to the front of the crowd.
     
    I recognized both men in the fight. It was Gage and the bald-headed, bearded man who had his hands all over me the night before.
     
    Across from us, a crowd of soldiers had formed, screaming and cheering for their favourite fighter. None of them seemed to be too concerned about the fight, so I assumed it was a casual ordeal, maybe a friendly spar, like boxers have. They were marines, after all. Their lives depended on their ability to fight.
     
    At least, most marines’ lives depend on their ability to fight.
     
    But, before the first punch was even thrown, I realized it wasn’t just a casual spar. The bearded man leaned forward and spat in Gage’s face, eliciting a low oohing from the crowd of Marines.
     
    “Bring it, Daniels. Or are the big muscles just for show?”
     
    Gage wiped the spit from his face and then raised his fists up towards his chin, assuming a fighting stance.
     
    The bearded man scared me. So much so that I had nightmares about him the night before, when I was sleeping in Gage’s bed. I couldn’t shake the thought of his cold, rough hand slithering up my leg, and his coarse beard hair brushing against my cheek as he tried to inch his face closer to mine.
     
    He started to circle Gage, hopping around, doing his best Muhammad Ali impression. Gage remained stationary, swivelling to face his bearded opponent around the imaginary ring.
     
    The girls around me were fighting to whisper over one another. “Isn’t that the guy that fucked Ashley?” one girl asked.
     
    “No, that’s the gay guy,” another said. “The guy who was so busy looking at his muscles when we landed yesterday.”
     
    “No—that’s the guy in the picture—the guy Ashley slept with last night.”
     
    “He’s cute.”
     
    “He’s a queer. He wouldn’t even look at me.”
     
    “Maybe he just wasn’t into you,” I said.
     
    Silence fell over the women and heads spun to face me. Caroline Kinley—or as she preferred, Kerry Kinley, Miss September—was staring at me as if I was a five foot tall cockroach.
     
    She looked like she had some mean things to say, but her attention quickly turned back to the fight, along with all the other girls’ attention.
     
    The bearded creep went in for a right hook, but Gage blocked.
     
    “Go for the body, Lyon!” one of the soldiers yelled from the sideline.
     
    The bearded man, apparently named Lyon, continued swinging for the head, hitting nothing but Gage’s blockers. Gage didn’t swing back, holding his position, pulling his arms in closer and closer to his face with each punch.
     
    “Is he going to do anything?” one of the girls asked.
     
    Kerry Kinley had a big, dumb smirk on her face—it was obvious who she was rooting for.
     
    “C’mon, Gage! Hit the bastard!” one of the soldiers called out.
     
    One of Lyon’s throws connected with the side of Gage’s head, throwing Gage off balance. He stumbled, but caught himself. The bearded Lyon could have taken advantage of the stumble, but instead used it as an opportunity to soak in the sudden cheer that came from his half of the soldiers. The other half cringed.
     
    “Do something, you piece of shit! I’ve got a hundred bucks on ya!” a soldier yelled at Gage.
     
    Lyon approached Gage again and started swinging, aiming again for the face, hitting nothing but blockers, only occasionally shooting low and hitting Gage’s side.
     
    From the cafeteria building, the reporter came running, screwing a lens onto his camera as he approached.
     
    Lyon finally clued into Gage’s strategy and decided to start throwing swings at Gage’s torso. Gage kept his arms up, continuing to protect his face, allowing the blows to his body to connect.
     
    Beads of sweat were starting to trickle down Lyon’s face. Each of his punches was accompanied by a deep grunt. He was tiring, but Gage still hadn’t thrown a single punch.
     
    The reporter began snapping photos,