Pivot, evade the massive jab that had killed others.
Bouncing on his toes, he shuffled around the ring, avoiding two left punches and another right.He never allowed his fighting stance to falter, unlike The Butcher whose rage made his arms waver and feet stumble over each other.
“Stop running you fucking spineless coward.”The Butcher threw another right, catching Tavish in the temple.
White momentarily blinded his vision, a loud ringing that had nothing to do with the crowd blared in his ears.Refusing to be affected, Tavish threw out a punch, missing as The Butcher followed up with another blow of his own, this one meeting the corner of Tavish’s eye.
Needing a moment, he swiveled left then right, ignoring the pain pounding against his temple.He gulped in a gust of fresh air, squeezed his fists together, and focused on why he was there.
Hammer.
His friend, the man that was like another brother to him.For years, he was the only brother Tavish knew, the one who traveled with him, while his real family stayed safely in London.It was Hammer who pulled Tavish from under random women, Hammer who’d stopped him from losing himself over and over again, and The Butcher had brutally murdered him.
Right to the left kidney.
Left to the jaw.
Right to the left eye.
Left to the right eye.
Right to the left kidney.
Left to the nose.
The crunch of bone and the wetness of blood on his hands was proof that he’d struck true.
Right to the temple, and The Butcher was down.
“To your corner, Leprechaun!”the referee ordered, dropping down from the pole to check on The Butcher.
Tavish went and perched himself on Frank’s knee, taking a large gulp of beer from Sam.The cool liquid quenched his thirst and dulled his senses.He couldn’t make another mistake in the next round.
In the center of the ring, The Butcher stood, tottering from left to right as he tried to regain his composure.
“If you don’t knock him the feck out soon, he’s going to hunt you down until you’re dead,” Dutch shouted over the roaring crowd leaning over the rope.
“Dutch is right, da Butcher is mad as a rabid dog.”Frank pointed a thick finger over to where The Butcher sat on his knee man’s knee glaring at Tavish like he’d slept with his woman.
Sam handed Tavish another cup of beer.“He’s even uglier mad.”
“Aye,” Tavish agreed, before gulping the beer.
He welcomed the cool drink, loving the feel of it as it slipped down his chin to his bare chest.
The bellman rang the bell, officially putting an end to the sixty-second break.
“Fucking end it!”Dutch slammed his hand down on the ring.
Nodding, Tavish assumed the fighting position as he met The Butcher at the scratch line.
“You’re a dead man,” The Butcher growled out, death in his cold eyes.
Tavish couldn’t control the smirk that graced his lips.He’d gotten to him, one of the deadliest bare-knuckle fighters in the country and Tavish had annoyed him.He wanted to laugh, and he knew wherever Hammer was he’d be laughing right along with him.He’d always called Tavish an insufferable bastard, and he wasn’t wrong.
“Not today,” was all Tavish said before the bell rang and he pounced.
Right to jaw.
