Read Unlikely Hero (Atlanta #1) for Free Online

 
    His hard-muscled frame finally relaxed back into the cushions for sleep. The picture behind his eyes was Erin Connor. Usually on Fight Day, his vision focused on the bloodied face of his upcoming opponent.  
    He woke up about seven hours later and ran down to get a steak from George to eat before the fight.
    “Who ya got tonight?” George asked while wrapping his traditional pre-fight steak.  
    “Don’t even know yet. Bill says 10 on the ticket, so could be anyone, I guess. Thanks.” Marcus held his steak up at George as he took the flight up his steps in about four bounds.
    Marcus went through his routine quickly. He ate, packed his gym bag, and started the mental prep for his fight. He let himself sink further into the dark area of his brain and think less about things more human, things like saying thank you for a steak. Marcus’s eyes grew heavy-lidded and deeper as he loosened the chains on the animal inside.  
    He walked past George without a good-bye, like every fight day.
    “Good luck, kid” George called after him, also like every fight day.
    Marcus walked, well rather stalked, his way to the arena and headed back to the locker room to get taped up. This was not a long process. Small, open-finger gloves, no shoes, basic boxers and a protective jock did not take long to put on. Mental prep meant everything.  
    Bill taped his knuckles silently, knowing Marcus’s prep time was all internal. He didn’t need speeches or yelling to motivate him. He found everything he needed from inside. There was enough hatred in his memories to fuel any fight he could enter.  
    Marcus focused on every backhand his father had delivered to him, every punch on his back as he threw his body over his sister, every drunken insult he’d ever heard. He just had to let his mind take one step backward in time, and he would be ready to pummel anyone.  
    Marcus loved Mixed Martial Arts fighting — nothing in the cage but him, his enemy, and a ref that no one paid much attention to. No shoes, no fancy footwork, no helmets, hardly any rules. Man-against-man was raw that way: pure and great release. Every punch he delivered was retribution for past wrongs, every kick he landed was proof he was not a victim. Even the punches he received did nothing but exorcise his demons and prove he was strong enough to take them — on his own terms.  
    As he fell into that place in his head, Bill said to him, “You’re on Skevly tonight. He’s one of the three I told you about. He’s taller than you, but top heavy. No legs on that guy worth anything. Knock him off balance and he’s yours. I’ve watched him fight before. He’s a bit of a wrestler, so don’t get wrapped up. If you need to hold on, get at him from behind. Stick to the kicks and punches and he’s all yours. You can take this guy. Your third up. Watchin’ the first two?”
    Marcus just shook his head and let the animal simmer right under the surface, ready to come out the minute he was in the cage. Bill left him to his brooding and walked out to the main room to coach his first fighter through the match. The night would see good fighting all the way around, but Bill was always most anxious to watch Marcus.  
    He knew that Marcus was a beast, but he also knew there was more. Marcus had all the rage to work with, but at the sacrifice of precision. If Bill could somehow focus his best fighter’s rage into keenly skilled attacks? Marcus would be genuinely unstoppable. All in good time, Bill figured. But for now, he would get to watch the show when Marcus came in to dominate the ring, and win or lose, a match including Marcus Walker was a good show.

    Erin reread her response to M for about the twentieth time before she finally made herself stop. She couldn’t really change the words anyway — they were ink on paper. She couldn’t get her mind off of the journal, though, and she nearly laughed out loud when she remembered something her therapist had told her five years