A Fighting Chance

Jade Marshall A Fighting Chance Chance Brothers Book 1 Copyright © 2023 by Jade Marshall All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. First edition Cover art by Rebeca Covers Editing by Dallas Ann This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy Find out more at reedsy.com For Helene van Zyl Thank you for always being my ride-or-die. Foreword Content Warning Authors Note: A Fighting Chance may contain triggers for some. As a reader, I find trigger warnings to be spoilers, but as an author, I understand that they are sometimes necessary. Although I am not going to list each one, there are many, please feel free to email me at [email protected] with your specific trigger(s) and I will let you know if that trigger is in this book. For those of you that wish to go in blind, please remember that this is a work of fiction, and I DO NOT condone any of the situations or actions of the characters. Chapter One Alistair I can feel the crowd. Their excitement is palpable in the air as I stand in the octagon facing yet another opponent. The heat is stifling, the noise deafening. For normal people, this would be overwhelming but for me, it’s just another day at the office. Taking a deep breath, I zone out everything around me focusing only on the man before me. He is shorter than I am but in every other sense, we are evenly matched. People have been talking about this fight for the past two weeks, saying it was going to be a knockdown, drag-out fight. That’s not going to happen tonight. The referee speaks to us, but I don’t hear a word. It doesn’t matter anyway; I know the rules. Stepping back to my corner I wait for the bell to sound so I can take this guy down and get my money. He glares at me, rolling his shoulders, trying to make himself look bigger and tougher than he actually is. I smirk in return. Nothing gets to an opponent quite as much as my nonchalant attitude about their supposed talents. His ears redden as his temper spikes, and I know that I have this fight won before it even starts. The bell sounds and my opponent charges. His maneuver is easily dodged. I wait for him to turn around and charge at me again because as sure as shit that’s what he is going to do. When I dodge this time, I kick out at his left knee and send him to the ground. The moment he is down I jump on him raining blows like my life depends on it. The sound of flesh on flesh is both disturbing and calming. This is my world, my peace. He tries to maneuver out from beneath me, wriggling and trying to throw me off. But I have the upper hand and land a second flurry of blows using my elbow. I feel his nose give way beneath my violent ministrations and know that he is done. He is out cold. The referee lifts my hand in the air when I stand. “Winner by knockout,” he yells over the crowd. “Alistair “Beserker” Chance.” I don’t preen in the ring. I nod at the referee and my trainer before walking through the gate and forcing my way to the back. Sixteen wins. Zero losses. Not a bad record if I say so myself. My mind is already working through the rankings, figuring out who my next opponent will be. That’s why I don’t see the woman before it is too late. With the crowd pushing and shoving in their over excitement, she ends up directly in my path. On her knees. For the longest moment, I stare down at what is surely a fallen angel. Black hair, porcelain skin, large brown eyes, and lips painted a shade of red I am sure would look perfect smeared around my fat cock. Reaching down, I grab her under her arms and help her up. Another body collides with her, sending her crashing into my chest. Her curves fit perfectly along every hard line of my body, and I feel my cock thicken in my shorts. Her eyes widen before she smirks. “Great fight, Ali.” Her husky voice washes over me. “Maybe next time you should let the other guy land a punch?” “Don’t call me that.” My voice comes out all raspy. I hate that fucking nickname. No one calls me that. Except for Mercedes. The problem isn’t my dislike of the nickname but the fact that I like it too much. But this fucking girl has always had that effect on me. Turning me inside out with nothing but a smile. “See you around big guy.” Standing on her tiptoes she places a kiss on my cheek before turning and walking away. I watch her leave, my gaze glued to the perfect curve of her ass. Her black skirt is the perfect length to entice men to madness but not so short that it makes her look slutty. What I wouldn’t give to flip that fabric over those globes and lose myself in her. The moment she is out of view I snap back to reality and continue my journey back to the changing rooms. People try to stop me to talk about the fight, but I have zero patience left after my run-in with Mercedes. All I want is to shower, get my money, and go home. ***